Thursday, September 17, 2015

A Powerful Story

When I was six years old, I gave my first blowjob.
“It’s a game”, said He. “Don’t you want to play?”
It was too big, and I threw up on him.
He said I’d do better the next time.
When I was seven years old, I watched a group of fellow second graders cheer as a boy in my class tried to kiss me. He hugged me from behind, giggling all the while.
I threw sand in his eyes, and was sent to the Principal.
When I was eight years old, I had an elderly teacher ask me to stay behind in class. He carried me on his shoulders, and called me pretty.
“Teacher’s Pet!” my friends declared, the envy visible on their faces.
They ignored me at lunch that day.
When I was nine years old, an older girl on the school bus would ask me to lift my skirt up for her. She was pretty and kind, and told me that I could only be her friend if I did what she said.
I wanted to be her friend.
When I was ten years old, a relative demanded that he get a kiss on the cheek every time we met. He was large and loud, and I proceeded to hide under my bed whenever I learnt that he was visiting.
I was known as a rude child.
When I was eleven, my auto-man told me that we would only leave if I gave him a hug every day.
He smelled like cheap soap and cigarettes.
When I was twelve years old, I watched as a man on the street touched my mother’s breast as he passed us. She slapped him amidst the shouts of onlookers telling her to calm down.
She didn’t calm down.
When I was thirteen years old, I exited a restaurant only to see a man visibly masturbating as he walked towards me. As he passed, he winked lasciviously.
My friends and I shifted our gazes down, aghast.
When I was fourteen, a young man in an expensive car followed me home as I walked back from an evening class. I ignored his offer to give me a ride, and I panicked when he got out, only to buy me a box of chocolate that I refused. He parked at the end of my road, and didn’t go away for an hour.
“It turns me on to see you so scared.”
When I was fifteen, I was groped on a bus. It was with a heart full of shame that I confided in a friend, only to be met with his anger and disappointment that I had not shouted at the molester at the time when it happened. My soft protests of being afraid and alone were drowned out as he berated my inaction. To him, my passiveness and silence were the reasons why things like this continue to happen.
He did not wait for my response.
When I was sixteen, I discovered that Facebook had a section of inbox messages named ‘others’, which contained those mails received from strangers, automatically stored as spam. Curious, I opened it to find numerous messages from men I had never seen before. I was propositioned, called sexy, asked for nudes, and insulted.
Delete message.
When I was seventeen, I called for help as a drunken man tried to sexually harass me in a crowded street.
The people around me seemed to walk by quicker.
At eighteen, I was told that sexism doesn’t exist in modern society.
I was told that harassment couldn’t be as bad as us women make it out to be.
That I should watch what I wear.
Never mind you were six, never mind you were wearing pink pajamas.That I should be louder.
But not too loud, a lady must be polite.That I should always ask for help.
But stop overreacting, there’s a difference.That I should stay in at night, because it isn’t safe.
You can’t get harassed in broad daylight.That I should always travel with no less than two boys with me.
You need to be protected. 
That it can’t be that hard to be a girl.
I am now nineteen years old.
I am now tired.

(This poem was anonymously submitted to Glasnost.)

Monday, August 31, 2015

The Ghost Story (true)

As a rule I do not believe in ghosts. The following is a true story. It happened to me.

I work for a security company, and some times I get assigned to work at Cowtown. Cowtown is a living museum of how our city was back in the wild west days. I had been told other guards had seen ghosts there. That strange things happen that just can not be explained. That even a couple of guards refused to work there. I just laughed and said I would have to see to believe.

So a week or so ago I was assigned to Cowtown. I was told that I needed to check doors. Kind of like the sheriff would do back in the old days walking around the town checking to make sure doors were locked. So at around 8 pm I take off to go check doors. As I am making the rounds everything is going good, everything is locked up.

As I turn the corner and head towards the saloon I start to hear piano music. As I get to the saloon I find it is locked and I listen the music is not coming from in there. So as I walk to the next building the music gets a little louder. I check that door and it is locked. I again listen but the music is not coming from inside. I move on to the next building. I check the door it is locked, but listening at the door I can tell this is where the music is coming from.

So now I have found where the piano music is coming from I shine my flash light in the windows and the music stops. I shine the light around the room, I don't see anything out of place so I figure someone forgot to turn something off. I laugh to myself and turn my flash light off. The music starts playing again. I step to another window shine my light in and again the music stops. In my mind I think someone is playing games with me. I turn my light off and the music starts. I walk around to check the side door and it is unlocked. This is when I think OK, one of the Cowtown people are playing games with me.

I step in side the door and this is definitely where the music is coming from. On the inside of the building it's just one big room, like maybe a dance hall. There are two rows of chairs pushed up against the north and south sides of the room, leaving the middle of the room empty from the front to the back. To the right of the side door there is a piano. I think ok, someone forgot to turn the player piano off. But as I look at it, the keys are not moving and it appears to be a standard piano. I yell "Hello, anyone in here". Nothing, but the music gets louder. I yell again "Hello, I going to lock the door. If anyone is in here they need to come out now". Nothing the music just keeps playing. I step back outside and close the door. The music keeps playing. The second I turn the key in the lock the music stops. I wait a couple of minutes and no music. I laugh to myself and check the rest of the doors. That was the only door that was unlocked.

I'm still not saying I believe in ghosts. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation as to why this happened. When I told my boss about this he just laughed. He said that it seems in the fall there is more of this stuff happening. He said he didn't know if it was because they were old buildings with old wiring and with the change in weather it caused these things to happen. Or if the place really was haunted. To be honest with you I can't wait. Because if nothing else it adds a little food for thought.