Housekeeping first, I had to turn off the comments because of asshole spammers spamming my comments with well over 4,000 spam comments, sorry.
Living in Derry I have found an amazing creative community. I’ve been an extra in like 10 local films, including being an extra in an episode of Derry Girls recently.
The acting, comedy and writing community keep me busy thankfully! Well, before covid anyway, and we are slowly coming back to getting together again.
This piece is about a writing contest I’m entering inspired by the journalist, Lyra McKee, that was murdered in Creggan, N Ireland, not far from where I live, on April 18, 2019.
Lyra’s philosophy was, it won’t alway be like this, things will get better. She was an activist for gay rights, women’s rights, human rights basically.
So this is my piece for the contest inspired by Lyra.
FEAR! Living in constant FEAR!
Fear of what did I do wrong now?
Fear of what my punishment might be.
Fear of what my sister might have done….or didn’t do.
Hugging each other on my bed in fear of whose name was going to be called this time.
Fear of getting beat…or worse!
Fear of hearing the hits on my younger sister.
Hearing her cries and begging him to stop!
At times the fear of hearing her screams of pain.
Hearing those screams while I stood in the front yard,
Feeling that I couldn’t help my younger sister….
Haunt me to this day!
But I kept telling myself, it won’t always be like this. It’s going to get better.
Why didn’t I just pray to make it stop at 9 years old?
But instead prayed, PLEASE get me through this ok.
Maybe because deep down I knew it wouldn’t always be this like.
That in fact it would get better, it just has too!
I had to believe that, because I was too young and small to make it stop.
While my choices and childhood were stolen from me.
I promised myself at 11 years old,
“When I grow up I will NEVER let anyone take away my choices
OR control me because as a grown up? I have the right and ability to choose! Right now I do not.”
I paid dearly for my mother’s poor choice in men.
BUT! I kept that promise to my 11 year old self!
And in fact it did get better and it’s not like anymore!
IT’S ALL GOOD!