Jane's Tale
Her’s was never going to be a great life, mediocre at best.
Plain Jane from the start – too right!
She’d had ambitions, jaded now, like the dreams of childhood.
She sat alone, well he was there, he had started her end, and she loathed him like only a woman may loath a man. She’d been alright before he came along and before what fate had labelled as love had chained them together.
Daily she chatted, she dreamed and did her chores, then there was her job, there were prospects there, a future a different life from that of her mother. The life her mother would have liked if her father had allowed it.
At first she was pleased by his attention towards her, sometimes he was funny and he bought her that toffee. That toffee she cursed now as the ruination of her teeth.
Then he’d wanted to put it in there, just the once he’d said, to see how it felt and she’d let him. Then it had to be every day, twice sometimes, and then she grew heavy and the folk’s forced their hands to marriage just four weeks before her first child arrived. She was Seventeen years old.
For thirty exhausting years she did nothing but serve him, lay down for his desire, whatever his desire, and then raise the results. He told her she was worthless and beat her black and blue, all for his pleasure, for his desire.
Seven children and only three were fortunate enough to die. The others fed from her alongside him, so that now exhausted and thin, hollow and forgotten to herself, she stared blankly and awaited the next blow.
Little Tommy was seventeen now and he’d gotten’ that girl down the road pregnant. Just like his father. Only little Tommy wasn’t hanging around, he had been paid by the girls family to go away, and that was it, her closest, eldest son gone. Maybe he would have given something back to her if he’d had the chance.
That man, him, her husband, he was old now – he stunk, he drank, he smoked and she’d fed him enough fat for the purpose, but his damn heart beat on.
It was hers that was failing, she was going to die soon and that soon just wasn’t soon enough. She hoped death would be the absolute end, she had only one wish from death and that was to never feel him touch her again.
-The End-
(Reality Bites)
Plain Jane from the start – too right!
She’d had ambitions, jaded now, like the dreams of childhood.
She sat alone, well he was there, he had started her end, and she loathed him like only a woman may loath a man. She’d been alright before he came along and before what fate had labelled as love had chained them together.
Daily she chatted, she dreamed and did her chores, then there was her job, there were prospects there, a future a different life from that of her mother. The life her mother would have liked if her father had allowed it.
At first she was pleased by his attention towards her, sometimes he was funny and he bought her that toffee. That toffee she cursed now as the ruination of her teeth.
Then he’d wanted to put it in there, just the once he’d said, to see how it felt and she’d let him. Then it had to be every day, twice sometimes, and then she grew heavy and the folk’s forced their hands to marriage just four weeks before her first child arrived. She was Seventeen years old.
For thirty exhausting years she did nothing but serve him, lay down for his desire, whatever his desire, and then raise the results. He told her she was worthless and beat her black and blue, all for his pleasure, for his desire.
Seven children and only three were fortunate enough to die. The others fed from her alongside him, so that now exhausted and thin, hollow and forgotten to herself, she stared blankly and awaited the next blow.
Little Tommy was seventeen now and he’d gotten’ that girl down the road pregnant. Just like his father. Only little Tommy wasn’t hanging around, he had been paid by the girls family to go away, and that was it, her closest, eldest son gone. Maybe he would have given something back to her if he’d had the chance.
That man, him, her husband, he was old now – he stunk, he drank, he smoked and she’d fed him enough fat for the purpose, but his damn heart beat on.
It was hers that was failing, she was going to die soon and that soon just wasn’t soon enough. She hoped death would be the absolute end, she had only one wish from death and that was to never feel him touch her again.
-The End-
(Reality Bites)
posted by Joanne Mitchinson VN. BA(Hons). at 9:36 AM
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