Sunday April 2nd, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the rampage.

We had Kat's birthday dinner at her parents house this evening. Was a nice time with most of the farm family (her brother Adam was too sick with the flu to attend), and the kids had a ball playing together, as usual.

Next up is Miles, who will be turning one in ten days.

Because whaaaaaaat.

Mine:

It is not a pleasant, nor easy, task to take the statements from victims after a violent rampage such as this one. But it is a necessary one. It is important for them to know that their voice is being heard, that their point of view on the events is valued. It is part of their healing process.

Still, it is a taxing process. By the third interview I have a very good picture of what happened... and of what the next twenty will tell me. Their trauma is not a burden I find easy to shake. It lingers, haunting my thoughts and corrupting my dreams.

And I have to hear it over and over and over again.

It is not, to say the least, my favorite duty. But it is one of them, so I must perform it to the utmost of my abilities. I owe to my employer, certainly. But most of all I owe it to the victims.

So I turn the page, brace myself, and begin again.

"All right, Billy - tell me what happened after Jessica's mommy let the birthday clowns into the house."

4 Comments:

Greg said...

Is time getting away from you again? Sooner or later you're going to realise that as the children have been growing up you've been aging too and you're no longer 30 :)
Ah, it sounds like the mother in your story inadvertently let killer-clowns in to the house -- next year it will be the murder-hobos! She's not to be trusted, lock her up now ;-)
Another poem for the National Poetry month:

Rampage
Raucous voices are like angry crows
Addressing crowds of rioters who
Mostly want to take their loot and flee.

Paid agitators whip them harder --
"Assault the forces of th'ignoble
Government and shake their petty world!"
Estimated damage is sky-high.

morganna said...

Daffodils are supposed to be poisonous
Every tulip is nibbled to the ground
Even the new
Rose leaves are gone.

David said...

Boxes everywhere. Yes. Everywhere. On the front lawn. In the street. In the Mitchell's yard and the Mackenzie's. Probably at the Baker's too, but Sarah could not see. She could not see much, through her semi closed eyes. Lack of sleep. Too much booze. A few pills? She could not remember. Rick left early for work. She thought. But now she sees he left her a present. Broken dishes. Shredded Beanie Babies. He always hated her collections. No one called the cops? How the fuck did she sleep through it? She had been out with Melanie. In town for one night. Girl's night. Rick you stay home, the game is on. Sarah did not know what game, but there was always a game. It was March. That's basketball, right? Too cold for baseball. Not that it mattered. Rick only sat on the couch. On the left side. Which used to be her side. It was her couch. From her Sacramento apartment. She would sit on the left side there. Her cat Sammy would sit on the right side. Then Sammy died. And she met Rick. And they moved to Orinda. So she gave up the left side for Rick. She stood on the front porch. Drinking the coffee Rick left. Cold, yet needed. How thoughtful. Styrofoam popcorn swirled in the wind. A damn tornado. Her Barbie doll collection littered the grass. Naked. Mutilated. Some with heads. Others with limbs intact. The rest, not so lucky. Sarah felt her stomach. A bit queasy. Too much Jameson. She held it in. She would puke in a minute. In her own bathroom. She would clean up this mess later. Rick had made his point. And she knew he was right.

Marc said...

Greg - nope, pretty sure I'm still 30.

An impressive acrostic, with I think the second last line being my favorite of the bunch.

Morganna - hah, it took me a moment to spot the acrostic, but thoughts of deer sent me looking for it. So very well done on this one!

David - hey hey, it's a David sighting! What a pleasant surprise :)

Fascinating piece. So many great details bring it to life. And a very powerful ending.

It all serves to remind me how much I've missed reading your work. I hope you're able to visit again soon!