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Rated: E · Campfire Creative · Short Story · Relationship · #2041252
This is a short story about a widow who glowed after her abusive husband died.
[Introduction]
The pain in her eyes is evident .She carries her metal container with gren leafed vegetables to the market.
Mirirai's mother was a beautiful woman ,her skin and her body would have had any man on their knees ..she was beautiful.The well rounded hips ,the well proportioned body ,the perfect feet that had the well done shaped toes.l looked at her and l could define what real beauty was at that time.
As a young girl growing up in a Police "camp" i was one of those children who just observed life's events and things fromm a distance.
Most of the women who were married to the policemen were housewives.In that environment l learnt that a woman respects her husband and the husband is the bread winner.
l just could not understand something about Miri's mum as we called her.She had that stern look on her face ,she had that pained look on her face .On the morning l made a decision that l was going to stand by the women who were physically and emotionally abused ,it was a Wednesday morning ant it was during school holidays .On the normal morning the routine includes making breakfast ,cleaning the house and making sure thae yard is clean before we go out to play with other kids.Although l dont remember doing a lot of playing ...l was a child who would read more than play.
I was cleaning the floor on my knees with a brush and polishing cloth when l heard a sharp scream from Miri's mum's house .The scream was desperate she started begging him to stop or he was going to kill her this time.I turn around and my heart aches ,the pain of a womans cry pierces my heart .The sound of the thuds bash my soul.
"You are a stupid woman,why did you pay the whole amount of the fees?' He shouts as he lifts his hand again carrying a wooden bat like item.
l can't move ,l can't look again ...my soul bleeds and l know and l am certain in my heart that it will be the last time l will be sitting still listening to a woman cry .
My soul tells me to get a huge knife somewhere and stub this man but sense kicks in ...l am so small and there is nothing much l can do at this stage.
Miri's mum is now kneeling on the floor with her hands on his feet ...that picture will always come to my mind if anyone mentions emotional abuse.
How does a man you have loved and had children for get you to a point of begging you to stop physically abuse her ?Her face has a cut on the eye its bleeding at this point and his face is ragging with anger....Unfortunately for me that's the picture l have of you Mr Abuser thats what l have decided to call you.....and may your soul rest in peace ...l hope it surely does if there are miracles that happen to help souls rest l sincerely hope his soul get the miracle... anyway l rest my case about him at this stage.
So ...a few months later after the incident Mr Abuser's health suddenly deteriorates .At that time noone would want to talk about HIV and AIDS.
From a wellread and an observers point of view...l knew that he must have been infected by the virus and he was unwell.Looking back now after years of Nursing l would add more to his diagnosis Acute Maniac disorder ,some depression...that man always carried a serious face ...he had Maniac depression ..extreme case of Narssistic behaviour ...
Miri's mum would wake up every morning and make some porridge for him ,feed him in the last days of his life as he sat in a makeshift bed outside trying to get some sun into him .She would get a basin with warm soapy water and wash his feet.Looking back today at all this l wonder to myself ...was that love or fear?
For some days l did not see Mr Abuser being fed from outside then l figured out that he might have been taken to hospital ...well done l wonder how he is anyway ..he was my friend's dad and l cared about him as much as l wont get into detail on how l felt about him agan.

Its about 10 am and l hear my friend scream ..the scream of loss...l walked slowly out of my bedroom .The coldness of death surronds me ...my young soul doesnt know how to take all this in.I stand looking through our kitchen window knowing that in a few more minutes l would be seeing the trail of women going to sit in and be with Miri's mum.
Miri's mum walks out of her house and sits on the door way ...she is still ...i watch her ..i think she had become an object of my obsession.l had felt her her pain and l was waiting to see how this would go with her and for sure she sat there without a taer in her eye....She is not screaming anymore ...l said to myself and she will not scream anymore ...

From then on her glowing journey ...l watched her everyday as she started shining more and more ...Wherever you are ...you have made me realise my calling ..to give comfort to all those women going through emotional and physical abuse.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/campfires/item_id/2041252-The-beautiful-widow