THE   RULES   0F   THE   BLACK   WIDOW  




The child's second day back at the orphanage

had been quite informative ...

first ...

the spider lady's name was not Mz. Ol'Biddy ...

but it did cause a slight gasp and giggle in the dining room ...



"NOW ...

for the benefit of the new boy ...

which shall find this time around

to be quite different ... indeed ...

would someone like to stand up

and recite the first rule of this house ...



JEF-FREY!"





This was definately a woman

you would not want to be around

for any lenght of time ...

if at all.


It was as though

she purposely waited

for every child to be seated,

at the dining table,

with their heads bowed,

ready for the morning prayer,

when ... BOOM ...

out came the first word

like thunder from a big black cloud ...

causing every child to jump

at least an inch,

and and it took no time at all

for the oldest boy,

sitting at the far end of the table,

opposite of the end where the widow sat,

to jump to attention,

knocking over his chair,

and begin his rather stiffened recital.



"The first rule of the house is ...

if you break a rule

YOU WILL BE PUNISHED."



Having stated the first rule of the orphanage,

the Widow's toy soldier,

quietly,

picked up his chair ...

and as he sat down,

the woman sprang to her feet

and again came the thunder ...


"FINE ...

now you know the first rule,

AND ...

as I do not have the time

to inform EACH AND EVERY CHILD

of each and every rule,

you will just have to learn them

as YOU, or someone else, breaks them ...


DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"





In a soft ...

hesititant ... wisper,

the child,

while staring into a bowl

containing a solid mass

of cold oatmeal,

muttered .....


"y-yes, mz.o'biddy."


which was the cause

of a slight gasp and giggle,

but only a slight one,

to come from those

that were sitting on either side of him.





"WHAT ... WHAT WAS THAT?

WHAT DID YOU S-S-S-A-A-A-A-Y?

LOOK AT ME, DAMN YOU!"



Shaking,

like an old maple tree's last autumn leaf

quivering within the first breeze

of a very harsh winter to come,

goosebumps rising here, there,

and everywhere,

and not just on his body,

but on everyone's body

in the dining room,

the child raised his head,

just slightly,

looked straight into her gaunt old face,

and muttered ...


"y-y-yes?"


Yes, indeed,

the first day was extremely informative,

as were the many days that followed.

And as the days passed,

it became more and more obvious

that this woman,

whom he began to think of as "The Widow",

had more rules than hell had brimstone.


It was also quite obvious

that the children

had plenty of reason

for acting the way they did

in her presence,

for as soon as she entered a room,

each and every child

seemed to turn into a statue of stone ...

it was downright eerie.


If everyone was sitting,

there was an enormous sound of thunder

as everyone jumped to their feet,

eyes trained straight ahead,

hands stiffened against their sides,

their complexions paled ...

she had every child in the orphange

so scared ... so terrified ...

that even their breathing seemed to stop ...


THAT'S FEAR ...


no ...



THAT'S TERROR





and, as if that were not enough ...

there were other fears

that had begun to develop

within the child,

fears that the other children

could not know of,

could not feel,

because they were orphans,

and they had probably been orphans

for as far back as they could remember,

so they could not know the fears

that exists within a child's

beginning to think that his mother

may have forgotten he existed ...

that he may have been ...


"oh please, baby Jesus, please makes my mommy no forgetted"


ABANDONED!


And that was not acceptable ...

because that would mean

that he was all alone in the world.

That would mean that he was unloved ...

unloveable ... unworthy ...

and that scared the holy hell out of him.



ORPHANIZED


Yes,

he knew fear ...

he knew fear very well ...

much more than any child should know fear,

especially a four year old child.



FEAR ...

it was being locked in a bathroom ...

all night long ...

while his mother worked the bars ...

sleeping in a cold hard bathtub,

with a toilet-paper pillow

and a towel for a blanket.



And when he wasn't sleeping,

he was floating toilet-paper boats

in a rust-stained toilet bowl,

or laying upon the floor,

at the foot of the bathroom door,

listening for any possible footsteps

and the songs of a decade gone by

playing on the radio ...

down the hall.



Pacing and crying,

pacing and crying ...

scared to death

that she might never come back.


Truth be known,

his mother had problems of her own.

She hated being tied down,

but it was the price to be paid

for a roof over one's head ...

but all she really wanted

was to be left alone,

to wallow in her own miseries ...

the miseries of a manic depressive nature,

and all the memories of her own abusive childhood.


Guess what ...


LIKE MOTHER, LIKE CHILD!


THE ABUSED ALMOST ALWAYS BECOMES AN ABUSER.


FEAR ...

what would he do ...

if she never came back?

What would become of him,

if she never came back?


Pacing and crying,

pacing and crying ...

uncontrollable sobbings of total despair ...

feeling more alone than anyone should ever feel,

especially someone that was only four years old,

almost five ... and almost abandoned.

And then came the rocking,

rocking back and forth,

back and forth,

hugging his knees to his chest ...

then would come the anxiety attack,

the hard hitting panic attack ...

eventually leading to a seizure ...


exhaustion ... then sleep.


Unconscious on the cold bathroom floor,

that's how it always ended ...

that's how it always was ...

and always would be ...

for the unwanted child of an unstable alcoholic.



AND NO ONE WOULD EVER KNOW!



Why?


Because bad children go to hell,

and there are so many ways to be bad.



Bad children have accidents!

Bad children get dirty!

Bad children are tattletales!

Bad children are cry-babies!

Bad children are pests!

Bad children get thrown away!



FEAR ...

it was being the unwanted child

of a woman with a manic-depressive nature ...

it was being truly loved one minute,

and then ... without any warning ...

extremely hated the next.



HATED WITH EVERY FIBER OF HER BEING.



It was being paraded around town

as the ultimate child,

her pint-sized bundle of joy,

loved and adored by one and by all ...

and then,

without any warning what-so-ever,

being beaten, for God knows why.

But always behind closed door ...



secretly.



It was being cuddled

through a long chilly night ...

then given the silent treatment for days on end.



IT WAS BEING TREATED AS A LEPER.



FEAR ...

it was knowing that an accident

would be another cause of abuse,

both physical and mental ...

that stupid kids scrape their knees ...

bad children hurt themselves at play,

and brainless little twits fall down,

and everybody hates a cry-baby ....

and those crocodile tears.


All of which are perfectly good reasons

to beat the hell out of the child for.



"DON'T YOU DARE GIVE ME THOSE CROCODILE TEARS!"


"THERE ARE NO ACCIDENTS,

GOD IS PUNISHING YOU FOR SOMETHING,

WHAT DID YOU DO, WHAT DID YOU DO?"



Those were the fears of a four year old

with so many more fears to come ...

to the almost orphanized.



FEAR ...

it was the day the police took him away ...

the day she hadn't come home before sunrise,

and the child had gotten frightened ...

the radio had stopped playing its songs ...

the child had thought the world had ended,

or that something horrible had happened to his mother ...

the child began crying and pacing,

then screaming his lungs out,

until the police arrived.


THEN ...

they had taken him away ...

placed him in the orphanage,

to prove that she was a good mother,

that she was as good a mother

as any other mother ...

even better ...

and that's exactly what she did ...



SHE BECAME THE PERFECT MOTHER!



The perfect mother

of a child she would tell the court

was often extremely unmanageable,

and was quite the little liar,

causing problems for her and neighbors.



MY HEAVENS ... A FOUR YEAR OLD CRY-BABY TERRORIST,

which she became the perfect mother of!



She obtained a job as a bar hostess,

showered the child with candy and gifts,

which the child would always share with the orphans ...

just to see them smile and get so excited ...

he liked seeing people smile,

it made him feel good,

and that is what he needed most of all.


Besides,

he didn't need all that candy,

he had something they didn't have ...

he had a mother ... again!


The perfect mother

that came to see him every weekend,

taking him to bar, on Saturday,

where everyone would dote over

the green eye'd child with the magnetic personality ...

and then again on Sunday,

when it was closed for cleaning,

and the bar owner would make him milkshakes,

super-duper thick, and double chocolaty.

She showed the orphanage, and the court,

that there was no better mother on earth.



SHE DID IT ALL ... AND SHE DID IT PERFECTLY!



Because,

above all else,

she could not allow anyone to think

that she was anything but

the most perfect person possible.


That's just how she was built,

perfect hair,

perfect make-up,

perfect attire ...

its just how she was raised,

keep the bruises hidden,

the tears a secret,

and never let anyone see anything ...

except, THE PERFECT HOME!


And if they did see the real you ...



MOVE!



LIKE PARENTS, LIKE CHILDREN!



But ...

what do you do

if your husband is out to sea,

and it is impossible to move?



You lie,

you blame everything on someone else,

and you literally become


MRS. JUNE CLEAVER!



And ...

that is just how she did it,

and she got her darling little boy back ...

took a week off from her hostess job,

paraded the child around town,

as well as the bar ...

... then ..... abruptly .....

right before his fifth birthday,

with no warning what-so-ever ...

she paid the orphanage to take him back,

so she could go back to being a hostess.



She loved being a bar hostess ...

having a good reason

to wear pretty coaktail dresses ...

having her hair and nails done

on a weekly basis ...

singing her songs

with a handsome piano player ...

getting all that attention,

and so many gifts

of perfume, flowers, and cash ...

she had found her place in the world,

her home,

and she was as free as a bird

to soar to great heights ...

there was nothing standing in her way.


Thanks to the Navy,

for shipping her husband to Korea,

and thanks to the Courts

for introducing her to the widow ...

and the widow knew,

from years of experience,

such circumstances

almost always leads to

complete abandonment.



So ... the child was abandoned ...





I think it's the way she did it

that made it so much worse for the child.

Deliberate,

a calculated act of pure evilness ...

an act of jealousy,

an act of revenge,

that would never be seen,

especially by the child.br>
But it would,

subconsciously,

force the child to hide his flame

beneath that proverbial bushel.


Confused?


Let me explain.



It was the 12th of May,

a friday ...

and the child was born on a friday,

Friday's Child,

five years earlier ...


anyhoot ...


this was the child's fifth birthday,

and it would be spent ...

you know where ...

yep, at the bar ...

which happened to be

the child's second most favorite place in the world ...

first being home, naturally!


Anyway ...

everyone knew it was the child's birthday,

word of mouth being what it is,

especially when the bar owner

was the perfect telegram ... tele-sam ...

and it being friday ... payday ...

the bar was packed with well-wishers,

gift-givers,

and the kind old jokester that yelled out .....


"HEY SAM, SET THE OLD MAN UP WITH ANOTHER SHIRLEY TEMPLE ON ME!"


It was the most perfect day

the child had ever had ...

it was beyond perfect ...

it was utterly fantabulous ...

and he was sitting in the clouds ...

until he was sitting in the car,

on the way home,

and hearing the mumblings of a not so sober mother .....


"my, my, look at all those shot glasses,
we're gonna have to carry you home,
if you don't slow down a bit; old man.

WHAT THE HELL'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT YOU?

I'm not an old man, I be fives."

They're only nice to you

because you belong to me!"


He would be sleeping alone tonight ...

in his own bed ...

that was all too obvious.

What was not so obvious,

was that it would be the last time

he'd be sleeping there,

for it would be the very next night

that he would wake up

screaming in the darkness ...

dragged from the dorm

and tossed into the boogeyman closet ...

clueless to the past, present, and future.



AND THEN THE NEW FEARS BEGAN!



FEAR ...

it was the saturday night fear

that she might not even be there

for her sunday afternoon visit either,

and the sunday night fear

that she may have completely forgotten

that she even had a child.

Afteral,

forgetting came easy to him,

why shouldn't it come easy to her too?

He forgot things on a daily basis ...

all she'd have to do is give him a smile ...

toss him a kiss ...

give him a hug ...

perhaps a little song ...

a song that would get him through

the very worse of times ......



"Catch a falling star

and put it in your pocket,

save it for a rainy day ...

catch a falling star

and put it in your pocket,

never let it fade away ...

for love may come

and tap you on the shoulder,

some starless night,

and just in case

you feel you want to hold me,

you'll have a pocket full of starlight ....."



and the devastations of the past

completely melted away ...

they never happened at all .....



ALL GONE!






FEAR ...


it was the Mistress,

the anger filled orphanage Mistress,

whose one and only pleasure

seemed to exist within the fears

she instilled within each and every orphan.



The courts weren't watching now,

the gifts weren't coming now,

the mother wasn't visiting now,

so everything could go back to normal ...

she could go back to normal!






FEAR ...


it was a huge bear of a man,

the beer bellied, foul-mouthed,

smelly, orphanage handyman,

whose sexual appetite included,

more often than not,

any boy, or girl,

he discovered

in the attic's punishment box.






FEAR ...


it was the other children,

the motherless, fatherless,

and totally hopeless, orphans,

that had gone back to being abused

after the child had left, the last time,

the miserable little orphans

that were not going to stand

for having a child amongst them

that wasn't an orphan ...

and they'd do what ever was necessary

to rid themselves

of this horrible reminder

of the misfortunes that had fallen

upon each and every one of them.






FEAR ...


it began with a flatulent child

that stood straight up,

during another tasteless,

and quite boring, dinner,

and shouted out the accusation ...



"YOU FARTED!"



which cut the pattern to be used

by the rest of the orphans,

and always ended with the punishment

of you know who ...


and it often got worse ...

it often got much worse.





Yes,

as well as he knew

that he was the orphanage kickball,

their scapegoat,

and the outlet

of their deep rooted hatred

of their world ...

and everyone within it ...


he knew fear!



It got to the point

that he would try his very best

to stay away from everyone ...


EVERYONE!



It got to the point

that he would try his very best

to go unnoticed by everyone ...


EVERYONE!



It got to the point

that he would try his very best

not to make eye contact with anyone ...


NOT EVER!



It got to the point

that he would JUMP

at the slightest sudden sound,

then he would immediately glance around

for a safe place to hide,

but there really was no safe place

for him to hide,

because someone always found him,

sooner or later,

and then things got even worse ...

it always got worse ...


except for today!




Today,

he ran straight down the hall,

right passed the Boogie-Man's closet,

out the front door,

down the steps,

and .....






LINK TO: Hiding Amongst The Flowers


Hiding Amongst The Flowers

ENTER HERE



PLEASE SEE BELOW BEFORE CLICKING THE ABOVE LINK.



You Are Most Welcomed Visitor to Rules of the Black Widow Spider

Since ReDesigned

ON

September 22th, 2004



COMMON   SENSE   TELLS   US


You will find a section, simular to this section,

at the end of each part of each chapter.

These sections are extremely important to these non-fictional writings,

mainly because they give a glimpse into the soul of the main character.

You will understand more as you continue to read .....


In the three sections to Chapter 1, Part 1,

the child has learned many things ...

and these lessons will always be with him,

governing the child's personality,

as well as his subconscious and conscious mind,

for as long as he lives.


In the harshest of ways, the child has learned

that children have no rights, none what so ever,

that a child has no idea where he, or she, will be,

or what may happen to him, or her, tomorrow ...

for tomorrow remains a complete uncertainty.



The child has also learned that not every child, in this world,

can depend on the love and protection of a parent, or a family ...

and ... that many people can be horribly cruel to a child,

especially other children that have also been wronged ...

for a wronged child learns, subconsciously,

that the stronger abuses the weaker ...

a boss abuses employees, because he or she can,

the employee abuses his, or her, spouse and/or children,

because one can not abuse one's superior,

and a child abuses a smaller child,

pet, or other animal ...



excepting that some children and/or people,

are pretty much incapable of abusing others,

at least intentionally ...


and that is when Karma takes over ... BIG TIME!



But that is something we will witness in the future.



BE ADVISED OF ONE THING,

KARMA RULES FOREVER!








Something else that the child is beginning to learn is ...

that the color of one's skin makes no difference at all

when it comes to love, humanity, and friendship!


ONE MUST JUDGE THE INDIVIDUAL ... NOT THE ENTIRE RACE.



These are lessons that will become deeply embedded within the child,

and they will be the type of lessons that can not be erased,

can not be forgotten ... though they can be hidden, or ignored,

they can not be hidden forever, because someday, out of the blue,

those memories, those deeply embedded feelings, will resurface,


AND/OR EVEN REVOLT,


refusing to remain hidden any longer ...

and that is when the world comes face to face

with the monster it has created.



A little note to those people that have a habit of saying ...


"So you had a bad childhood, that is in the past, get over it!"


OR


"HEY ... nobody said life is fair ... deal with it!"



... you should be told the truth ...

because you are mis-informed,

those words fuel the monster within ...

those words help the monster surface ...

those words are heartless ..... and quite deadly!


Life is not unfair, people are!


And ... as for getting over what happened to you when you were a child ...


100% IMPOSSILE!


Statistics have proven that an abused child

will most likely become a child abuser ...

if a little girl is abused by her father,

she will most likely marry a spouse abuser in the future ...

if a little boy is abused by his mother,

he will most likely marry a woman that will abuse him too.


OR PERHAPS THEY SHALL BE THE ABUSERS.


Abuse affects the abused in different ways,

depending on the type of person that is being abused ...

but the outcome is always severe

to everyone in the abused's future!



And ... the statistics continue to multiply each and every year.




Childhood is a growing period ... a development period ...

and everything that happens to a child automatically forms

what that child will grow to be ...

as in ...

a Billy Graham or a Charles Manson .....

which is to say .....




WE CREATE OUR OWN ANGELS ... AND OUR OWN DEMONS!




and then we punish the latter



for being exactly what we created them to be!





My Special Paradise


All Writing and ArtWork Are Listed As:
COPYRIGHT 1997 & 2005 BY SHALENE
Thank You For Reading ... DEVASTATIONS


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You Are Welcomed Visitor To The Rules Of The Black Widow

Since Re-Designed

ON

October 10th, 2006





NEWS FLASH

SEPTEMBER 2006

EAST ST. LOUIS, ILLINOIS


A 24 year old woman

accused of killing

a 23 yearl old pregnant woman

and her fetus

told local police

that she drowned the woman's three young children,

ages 7, 2, and 1,

and stuffed them into a washer and dryer

at their apartment building.

The 7 year old,

wearing only underpants,

was found stuffed into a dryer ...

while the other two children

were found nude in the washer.


The mother of the three dead children

bled to death after sustaining an abdominal wound

caused by a sharp object, believed to be scissors.

Authorities believe her womb was cut open

after she was knocked unconscious.



COPYRIGHT 1997 & 2006 BY SHALENE-BILLIE HOLMES