36 CommentsCreative Writing, Memoir, The "She" Chronicles

Episode One

Little girl lost. Mommy make it stop!

“Mommy! Make it stop!”

The little girl’s plea fell on deaf ears, as her parents continued to rage at each other, full volume. It was the same scene every weekend. Father came home stinking drunk and Mother railed at him. They said horrible things to each other and once, Mother hurled a heavy, glass ashtray at his head. It broke open a large gash on his temple and she took him to the hospital. The little girl was home alone and peace reigned at last, but only for awhile.

Angry voices shattered the darkness and she woke up with a start. The sounds of vomiting and water running in the tub kept her awake. Just when she started falling asleep once more, loud, panicked shouts filtered through the walls.

Daddy's nightmares. Mommy make it stop!

“Mommy! Make it stop!”

Father was having yet another nightmare. Mother once told her they were fuelled by memories of his time in mortal combat. “He’s trying to drown them out with alcohol”, she lamented.

It was dawn by then, so the little girl left her bed and went into the kitchen. Grabbed a bowl of cereal and adjourned to the living room to watch cartoons. She knew it would be hours yet before either one of her parents got up.


Staring at the TV but not really seeing, all she could think about was how depressing the rest of the day was going to be. Mother, tearfully complaining about her lot in life and what an awful man she was married to. Father, severely hung over and barely uttering a word, then slinking off to watch the football game.

The little girl so longed for a “normal” life, where parents adored each other and their children, as depicted in sitcoms of the day, like “Leave it to Beaver”. She would have given anything to have parents like that!


This was a rough road for an only child; no siblings to commiserate with, to gain strength from, to share the pain. The little girl was all alone.

Mondays should have brought relief, as she could escape to school. Here was another kind of hell, though, thanks to the bullies who taunted and terrorized her. She did have a few friends and Father stayed sober until Friday, which made it all somewhat bearable.

Then, came the weekend, once more.

“Mommy! Make it stop”

Crying. Mommy make it stop!

Mommy didn’t.

© D.D.B. 2013

Don’t we all have some dark memories, buried deep in the recesses of our minds?

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Debbie D.
Canine Innkeeper in suburban Toronto, Canada, known as "The Doglady". Writer/website owner, photographer, animal lover, music fanatic, inveterate traveller. History, literature and cinema buff. Eternal "hippie/rockchick". Binational, German/Canadian and multilingual. Looking for the next adventure!
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36 thoughts on ““MOMMY! MAKE IT STOP!”

    1. Yes, I think that was the hardest part – not having anyone to share the misery with. Of course, nobody on the outside had any idea what was going on behind closed doors. Thanks for reading my “tales from the dark side”.

  1. I’m so sorry to learn that you have had such a painful childhood. Your writing comes from the heart, and the message is strong.
    You are not
    Your roots.
    You are a flower
    Grown from them.

    1. Thank you for reading my story, Angelika. It was easier to write in the third person, disguised as “fiction” at the time. One of my favourite sayings is: “Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” and I think this applies in my case here. 🙂
      I love the sentiment you expressed! To overcome one’s roots by growing and flowering is a beautiful analogy. Thanks again!

  2. This story was so heartbreaking, Debbie. I feel for you. You’ve managed to overcome a difficult childhood. Not everyone is strong enough to do that. My childhood wasn’t always rosy with all the stress of moving so much and my parents were caught up in that military lifestyle where alcohol flowed like water. My dad even became an alcoholic as he used alcohol like a crutch since he was a shy soul. Luckily he never had to see any combat like your father so he didn’t have to drink away his demons but he still drank too much. Both of them would have loud drunken parties lasting til late. They often got drunk and had fights but nothing as bad as what you describe. Must have been very sad and lonely but you overcame and managed to survive. Bravo to you! You are amazing!

    1. Thank you for sharing your personal memories as well, Cathy. I hope it was as cathartic for you as it was for me. ((HUGS)) Yes, the military lifestyle often revolves around alcohol, what with cheap drinks available in the mess halls and frequent social gatherings. Sadly, the children are usually forgotten during these times of drunken strife. My mother didn’t drink, but she was completely self-absorbed with her own problems. It’s true, the scars of a dysfunctional childhood remain and not everyone gets over that, but I found it made me tougher, with a “take no shit” attitude. 🙂 This fits right in with one of my favourite expressions: “Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. Life goes on!

  3. Debbie, this is very touching!How the poor girl can bear so much. It will be haunting her all the time.Unfortunately this is the harsh reality of life.
    Debbie how did you publish this?My archives post was not accpted by FB

    1. Yes, life can sometimes be harsh, but, as one of my favourite expressions goes:
      “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
      It seems that Facebook has blocked your blog for some reason, Usha, but that doesn’t affect mine. Hope you can straighten it out. Complain long and loud! Several of us have already submitted our comments to Facebook about this.

  4. Great writing, friend of mine! Remember the voice at the beginning of the Dragnet TV series? This is a true story, the names have been changed to protect the innocent. But Alice in Wonderland here says it isn’t!

    1. Uh-oh. Busted! 😛 It’s just easier to write about painful memories in the third person. More objective, too. SHHHHH! 😉 There’s another one, called “What If”. You would probably recognize something there too.

  5. Such a sad story. In answer to your question, “Don’t we all have dark memories?” No, I don’t and would hope a lot people don’t either. Am I lucky not to have dark memories as this? I always thought stories like this were the exception not the rule. Your question/statement bothers and intrigues me.

    1. Sorry it disturbs you, Joyce, but, I’m glad it’s also intriguing. In my opinion, there are more sad stories out there than most people imagine. Thanks for visiting! 🙂

  6. Hi Debbie,

    Is it real?!

    Reminds me of the part of my life where I was speechless and always thoughts running in my mind 😉 No, my parents are not like that, but anger towards children can do the harm.

    But those dark memories makes who we are 🙂 I’m grateful enough.

    Survived and never let it happen 🙂


    1. Hello Mayura; I’ll leave that to speculation. 😉 I agree that whatever dark memories we have shape who we are. Thanks for visiting today and have a great week! 🙂

  7. A very powerful piece, Debbie – made me think about some reflections I had recently on a few posts I read around Mother’s day – all that adulation and no-one daring to mention that Mums don’t always get it right and sometimes let their children down, big time.

    I want to know how this little girl’s life turns out!


    1. You know, that thought goes through my mind fairly often, as well. Not all mothers are completely wonderful. Let’s be optimistic and think the girl was able to overcome her disadvantages. Thanks for reading! 🙂

  8. Hey!

    This is amazing. Thanks for writing this. I can’t wait to see more posts! You did a pretty good job with this piece for sure.

  9. Tough story, and even though I want to hope that is not a true story, I have the feeling that it is.

    How sad it is that some children have to grow up in household of violence. Something that never leave them.

    Thanks for sharing this.

  10. Wow Deb, how profound and sad. I am hoping this wasn’t written from personal experience but my heart tells me that it was. Those memories last for a lifetime. It makes a person wonder why it is that the ones who are suppose to love and protect us…are often the abuser… Excellent work Deb

  11. Wow, that was one powerful story. I won’t even speculate on how true it might have been. Keep up the good, fearless writing.

  12. In my work I have heard that story many times before, unfortunately. Those children grow up and they either perpetuate the misery in their own children’s lives, or they become some of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I hope this child became one of the latter.

    1. Yes, it’s sad how a dysfunctional childhood can wreak havoc in later life. As you said though, some have the strength to rise above and become better people. This old saying holds true in many cases: “Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. Thanks for the visit and comment, Rumpydog. Happy trails! 🙂

  13. I think this is more common than those who endure it realize. The saddest part, is that there were no siblings to confide in. I can’t imagine going thru it alone.