I still remember the terror that struck my heart. I went blind with grief and my mother and stepfather were demonic ogres. My mother was psychotic! She should have been locked up at age eight and never released to plague society, or her family again.
It took hours but my "family" did finally return to pick me up. I remember the family that found me crying in front of Mr. Lonnie's store, running up and down , slipping on the gravel, as I frantically chased our "family" car.
They were very nice people. Their house sat directly across the street from the "filling station".
I remember the tall lady that rescued me, insisted I come sit on her porch, consoled me, hugged me, assured me , that everything was going to be alright. She told me she was a cousin. That she knew my mother made a mistake.
Sure enough, about two long hours later , my "family" came back. My mother cussed me like a dog for not being in place, for getting left, and making her use up so much gas, for her long, fine Oldsmobile.
As a matter of fact, "they" were glad "they" left me because all I ever did was fucking talk too much. So!? Shit, I just started writing. "Fuck you bitch!" That's what I thought in my head. No, few were brave enough to ever , so much as give Mathy Jane a side look.
My mother never went to jail, to my knowledge. She did hint that she did get arrested for prostitution once.
Well, it didn't happen. That wo/man reigned as an absolute menace to society for eighty-seven years! A preacher, an ordained minister!
The demon was too smart to ever be incarcerated, for anything. The demon possessed, homemade voodoo priestess, finally died , and now, here come tRump!
REVERSE THE CURSE!
"COME YE OUT FROM AMONG THEM!"
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