Little Missy

by - Mr. Darcy   Jul 20, 2015


Malorie decides to walk...
Memories blur, then clear
As if being tuned in.
Static reveals an image...

Music.
Closeness.
Rhythm.
Their eyes, his grey ones
In the soft lights
Of the club where
They first met.

Her stilettoes click, click
On the evening street
Alone with her thoughts,
Yes, he loves me...

An image comes to mind...

He shakes her and shouts
'You stupid bloody w*ore!'
His face: Twisted fury.
Spittle sprays her eyes.

He loves me not...

Click, click she continues.
The cooling night air
Brings another memory...

That precious moment
Sharing, their first love.

Giggling and panting
Lying back on the grass
He turned, and said -
'I love you so much!'
His grey eyes full of tears

He loves me...

Her mind settles,
For a moment, then
Another mind image,
Revealing...

The blue line appearing
On the thin white stick,
And in the mirror
Her spreading smile.

Excited energy, eager
To share her news,
With her man
'Honey, we're having a baby!'

Crash - his fist replied
Stars, she saw crimson stars

He loves me not...

She remembers his anger
Felt his rage,
His icy words,
'You stupid bloody w*ore!'

She felt: Confused.
Wasn't this meant to be?
Surely,
Their child would fix them -
Wouldn't it?

Too many months alone,
Suffering in silence
Does he still love me?

Then,

He called last week,
Yes, he still loves me!
Soon I'll have our baby -
It is going to be O.K!

Click, click, legs are tired,
'Nearly home now!'
She coos and
strokes her bump
'Not long now Missy'

Suddenly,
THUMP!
A spray of Shooting stars
THUMP! - Those stars again!
Thump! Fist smash bone -
My nose erupts!

A frenzy of Fists and feet
Punching.
Kicking.
I fall and try to crawl
A boot lands fast
Like, a Sledge hammer.

Piercing white pain,
Skewers me,
As a rib splinters within.
Coughing, I roll over
Onto my back, heaving,
I cannot breath...

Stamp.
Stamp.
...A slight breath,
Weakly, I scream -
'Stop, I'm pregnant!'

Stamp.
Stamp.
Again and again -
Cruel, hard, heavy boots
Come crashing down
On me,
On my baby,
My baby!
My baby!

Pain rips through
My heart, my head
Rupturing her world
I vomit.

Stamp.
Stamp.
'Stop!' I choke,
'You're killing us!'

One of the men sneers -
'You stupid bloody w*ore!'
He looks down on me -
Grey eyes, full of hate!

My world implodes
His boot lifts up high
And down he drives it
STAMP!
Deep into my womb.

I drift into a mist -
Their cruelty continues,
Though, I no longer feel.

Silently I watch and weep.

Finally, they flee.
And pain returns,
With the piercing sound of
Hammers' striking bells.

All I see is now
Are those grey eyes -
His eyes!

HE LOVED US NOT!

All alone now -
I lie on the street,
And realise a sensation -
Warm wetness oozes
down my cold legs.

No! I silently cry.
No!
No!
I reach down,
and bring back
Crimson covered fingers.

Slowly people gather
They call 999
On their phone,
Many calls, Tweets
Photos...

Time passes, no help!
Life is slipping away.
I caress my bump,
'Not long now Missy'
Not long, I hope!

More phone calls -
The crowd is angry.
Missy and I fade,
Fade,
Fade.
Together, I hold onto her,
In this dreamland
She's so beautiful,
So perfect.
It could have been
Perfect!

Nearly an hour now -
Still no medical help!
Unconscious, I dream
Which turns into a
Nightmare!

Missy stops breathing.
I kiss her
Try to revive her -
Breath,
Breath!

I rub her chest,
I slap her -
Slap,
Slap.
'Breath Missy, Breath!'
Her tears run red -
She does not breath,
She dies.

Alone again, I lay,
Empty.
Spent.
Barren.

Rivulets of blood
Run cold into
The gutter.

Sirens, finally sirens
The cavalry crescendos
The medics arrive -
Too late!

M.Moran
20.7.15

Inspired by this event:
Malorie Bantala, 21, who was 32 weeks pregnant, was attacked by two men in Peckham, England on Monday evening, 16.6.15 as she walked home.

8


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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by mossgirl19

    You told the story so well, used words that made my heart stop beating for some minutes. It was indeed a sad story, but the way you presented it, yes I agree, as a man, it is truly commendable of you to have presented it without any reservation. You are a great storyteller.

  • 4 years ago

    by Brenda

    Michael, after reading Em's latest poem about domestic abuse and reading your comments I had to find your poem-I can only say WOW! This is so incredibly hard read but beautifully done. Such a sad story about this young woman and her baby. It blows my mind even now in this day that people can be like this to another one, all in the name of love? I shouldn't be surprised because how awful people can be but it still knocks me for a loop. You really wrote this well, I'm so glad I got to read this-take care-Brenda

  • 4 years ago

    by Em

    Michael, I'm glad you pointed me in the direction of this piece although not glad about the whole scenario.

    This was a truly moving piece that brought me to tears. I think it's wonderful that as a man you captured each part beautifully. The way we believe he still loves us even after everything he does to us. The story telling is magical and I'm glad it was a winner because it deserved the appreciation it got.

    Alot of men are in these kinds of relationships too, that's what annoys me because although I have suffered at the hands of one of these men that calls himself human I can still defend other men because its not always a man doing the crime.
    Em

  • 4 years ago

    by Cindy

    Wow! Michael what a piece of how love and hate gets all mixed together. This piece left me with tears in my eyes and a pain in my heart.
    Excellent job!
    Take care
    Cindy
    *big hugs

  • 5 years ago

    by Meme

    Weekly Contest Judging comment:
    -----------------------------------------

    This has to be one of the best storytelling poems I read. The pauses and continuation of the lines made the scenery in the poem so vividly seen. I saw the place she was in, and I heard the different voices and sounds. God, I think I even felt her pain.
    The writer took a real story, gave a voice to a voiceless woman, and made the reader feel and sympathize with her. We saw her agony, her torture and her pain through her eyes. We lived every moment of that night with her.
    The lines where she realizes he loved her, only to realize again that he did not were so powerful. We fight to see the good in those we love, so by default even if we were hurt by them in one time, the moment they do a good deed in the moment we come to think that's it is alright again. We deceive ourselves just to cover the fact that we are so scared to be alone.
    This is such a heartfelt poem that I think others should read. Just to know that some people should be remembered...

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