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Flash Fiction: Fingers on Fire

 


Good morning everyone, 


As many of you know I'm here at my daughter's house recovering from open-heart surgery, I really don't get much to do except follow my doctor's instructions and those of the visiting nurse and physical therapist. Yeah, you need them after open heart surgery. You don't believe me? Wait until it's your turn. :-) 

Anyway, the problem is that my mind starts to idle with ruminating thoughts settling in and trying to make a nest. 

Many of my friends always ask me why I do not let things go. Well, I'm going, to be honest, since I do not go to the Spanish congregation anymore I do not have to worry about any backlash from them. When my family lived on Long Island and I was a child my grandfather was working on the plumbing in the basement, he left a blow torch on, and of course, I was in the basement with him. Needless to say, I grabbed a blowtorch out of curiosity and I tried to burn the floor with it, the floor was made of cement so there wasn't much damage done, but imagine if I would have tried to burn the walls or the ceiling which was made of wood. 

My entire family and house thought about what could have happened instead of what did happen and they did not focus on anything positive but they did focus on everything negative. My grandfather packed up and left, now I did not get a beating for what happened my father does not function that way he does things worse he probably learned it from my grandfather.  He tortures the mind.

My father would burn my fingers' with cigarettes and matches and his favorite tool was the refrigerator light, believe me, that burn the most. Not only that he will take me to his garden in the rear of the house and burn bugs with his lighter and he would also tell me this is what fire would do to people as he burned the bugs so not only physical punishment for many years. This is one reason why I can remember most of the beatings I got as a child I do not let go of them. It is a defense mechanism. Most of the time punishment would come when my father got drunk. (note these issues were before my family started studying with the organization.) 


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