If this visit to Found Baby's musings is your first, welcome! Found Baby writes about her everyday adventures, about how she feels, thinks, and the challenges she faces living in a world so obsessed with beauty and perfection. As she adjusts to life out of the ground, she can't help but recall bits and pieces of her life before she was buried, and those memories are heartbreaking. It might help if you start from her first post back in March 2010, and read backwards to learn the story about how she was found. If you are simply reading the current post, may her story of survival and hope touch at least one of you. She believes there are no coincidences, and you landing on her blog isn't one either.
Welcome, no masks needed...........Found Baby.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Flashback Part 1

Making my eyelids open was not something I found at all appealing this morning. On the other hand, keeping them closed and living in the land of nightmares wasn't something I was willing to do one second longer, so open them I did. Baby B was sound asleep, and a snorer. For that I was grateful, because I knew she wouldn't see the tears rolling down my face, hear my heart beat that seemed to pound out of my chest, or realize that something was wrong. Baby B seemed quite peaceful in her slumber, and I lay there and wept beside her.

We were hiding that night, behind the back of the cellar stairs, next to the cobwebs and the remnants of rat droppings. There was a stale smell in the air, and one of dampness that I thought would permeate our skin if we breathed for very long. Angel Face had this look of pure horror on her pale, porcelain face and all she could do was hold her hand over our mouths and pray our breathing was silent. We could hear him upstairs, between the cracks of the floor boards, his screams seemed to stretch out and grab us by the collar. This had happened before, when Angel Face's mother was out visiting her with her bridge group, but this night seemed different. This time, I sensed there was a real possibility that we may not survive this night. And just about then, the cellar door opened. 

I couldn't lay in the bed any longer for fear my sobs would wake Baby B, so I ever so slowly pulled back the covers, being careful not to send a chill to her legs, and put the blanket back just so. Arly wasn't awake, in fact, the house was quiet except for hum of the of the air conditioner, so I headed towards the bathroom where my special mirror stays, the one just tall enough for me to see myself without help. Looking in mirrors isn't my favorite thing to do, but I wanted to make sure there was no evidence of tears, or cat butter, or anything  resembling the fact that I had nightmares. I was bound and determined to forget what I dreamed, if it was the last thing I ever did. The only problem was, with every breath, all  I could hear were screams......


Mojo Writin' said...

Trying so hard not to ask for the next bit...now! I do have a question though; What is cat butter? Is it the sleep in the corner of your eyes when you wake? It's a phrase I haven't come across before.

Mojo Writin' said...

Dropping by to say you one my Leibster award. Nip over to mine to collect it :o))