Uncle Bob (warning potential trigger story)

Copyright - Douglas M. MacIlroy

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

Warning: material in this story may be triggers.

 

Melissa and Meaghan giggled “It’ll be fun. Just Uncle Bob being silly.”

They pretend hide under the sofa’s cushions wrapped up in each other like a game of Twister.

I didn’t like Uncle Bob. His footsteps ominous thuds on the stairs. I remember dashing down the hall and squiggling into the tiny alcove to hide.

Because, somehow I knew their games were different that day.

Giggles didn’t last. Quiet, funny noises that got louder and louder. Uncle Bob’s voice. An animal’s growl.

All three disappeared that afternoon. No-one has yet brought my sisters’ giggles back to me.  (word count 97)

 

Written for Friday Fiction, June 10 2016: Monsters.

This seems to be a week where sad realities are in my head and on the computer screen. I hope my stories haven’t caused triggers/flare ups. I know how awful reliving can be. And I have at least one more to post. Remember, too, there are organizations out there that offer support networks to folks who are survivors of childhood abuse, help with exploited and missing children, rape, domestic abuse. Abuse is more than a fist or unwanted sex: it’s mental, and emotional too. Wearing the “victim” down; displaying power; control without every striking, physical torture or non-consensual intercourse. I know how it eats you away.

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2 thoughts on “Uncle Bob (warning potential trigger story)

  1. Shocking to say the least but so well written. I am guessing the Uncle assaulted the girls and maybe murdered them? There are, however, so many different possibilities. I also immediately though about the Uncle and girls disappearing into another world where the narrator would have to save them.

    Like

    • “I like your second scenario — even if the narrator doesn’t like the uncle doesn’t mean it couldn’t lead to an interesting rescue in another world,” she said. “Thank you for sitting on the porch ‘for a spell.'”

      Like

the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things . . .

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