Celeste's Journal

A week has passed since THE NIGHTMARE.  I have done my best to keep busy, busy, busy...too busy to let the past have purchase in my thoughts.  I stayed at the ranch this weekend to watch the children.  Red and Blake went on a business trip to Portland.

It was pure joy to awaken in the morning and race into the boys rooms.  I stood to watch the sleep slowly creep from their eyes.  I then awaken them fully with hugs and tickles.  The awakening process quickly turns into full scale battle.  Pillows are flung and bashed about.  Finally, finally, after much rejoicing and enjoying, I encourage the boys to wash up, and get dressed.

I take my own advice and dress for the day.  Next I race to the kitchen.  I relish the simply tasks of morning.  I make coffee for me, and hot cocoa for the boys.  I made a Quiche last night.  I start a fire in the stove.  The Quiche simply needs to be warmed in the oven.  It is filled with the most luscious things, bacon, ham, eggs, cheese, and some asparagus that I grew in my very own garden.

In the midst of this joy I could hear Mama's voice in my head telling me to pray.  Softly I say out loud, "I'm sorry to disappoint you Mama but I can't.  I still believe that God is either a hateful being, who rains down pain and destruction on whoever he randomly wishes.  At the very least God is high in his Heavens where he simply does not care about the small tragedies of the earth below."

Pushing those negative ideas aside I call out to the boys, "Breakfast!"

I can't believe how quickly their small legs can move.  Soon they join me in the kitchen.  I don't even have to ask them to set the table.  They quickly, quietly go about this routine morning task.

When the table is set and the food steaming in front of us I say, "Well, dig in boys." 

Eric's rich brown eyes look at me with shock.  "Maman, we can't eat without thanking God!"

In my head I counted to five slowly.  It is never my desire to cause these beloved boys to harbor MY bitter thoughts.  I counted to five to slow down my tongue that wished to rattle and prattle about God and his cruel ways.

When I knew that I was calm and in control of myself I said, "Eric, I'm sorry.  Maman DID forget.  Would you say grace?"  I figured that my little lie was better than the truth in this case.  I hadn't forgotten.  I hoped that the boys would forget. 

Every time that I hear a prayer it feels as though a tight little twist happens somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.  God allowed my entire family to die.  I was alone, and God allowed Madame Le Rouge to inflict evil on me.  I don't know if I can ever let myself feel vulnerable to God again!

Yet I felt a tender warmth as Eric, with his childish voice said, "Oh Father in Heaven, it's a new day.  Please come with us in this day.  Please let Maman know that we love her.  Thank thee Lord for sending us a new Maman. Oh, and bless this yummy food that Maman made for us.  We pray in Jesus name, Amen."

Jamie and I said, "Amen," at the same moment and then smiled at each other across the table.

I write this after the boys have gone to sleep for the night.  They were busy, busy, busy boys today.  Mostly I ran after them, and with them.  We went on a picnic.  There is a beautiful meadow not far from the the ranch house.  The weather was perfect.  Jamie gave a beautiful prayer of grace over this meal.

I was humbled at the notion that Jamie, little, tiny Jamie could, and did pray.  I had helped the boy's say their night time prayers many times.  These prayers were different than their simple night time verses, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take..."  Then they would continue with, "God bless..." 

I try to be a good Maman to these boys even though usually it is from a distance.  At the same time I know that these boys give me much more than I ever give them. 

I wish that I could pray.  If I could I would pray for this beautiful family.  What a gift they are in my life.  I simply can no longer imagine life without each and every one of them.  Even Red has a strong place in my heart.  He is my brother.  He does not take the place of the dear brother I lost, he is altogether a different brother.

Blake, oh I sigh as I write his name.  He is not handsome as most would see him.  His features are slightly rough, a tad uneven.  His eyes are piercing.  Honestly, when he gazes at me sometimes I feel that he can see into my soul and read my thoughts.  That is most uncomfortable when my thoughts are, "I wish Blake could let go of the past and love me.  Marry me."  I don't want him to read THOSE thoughts.

Well, I needs must sleep.  There are not many hours left in the night and I need my rest to enable me to keep up with my energetic, frenetic boys!  Good night.

Celeste's Journal

I heard some poor woman screaming.  I wanted to wake up and go to her, comfort her, give her courage.  The more and more I awakened, the more I realized that the screaming was coming from my own mouth.  Then I remembered.  The dream...THE NIGHTMARE!

I haven't had THE NIGHTMARE for a very long time.  I was hopeful that I might NEVER have that night terror again.  The darkness of my life experience has cast a long, bitter shadow over my happiness.  What good, decent man will ever wish to marry me?

I was just fourteen years young.  I was so innocent of human reproduction.  I had seen animals in our farm in France.  I had no idea that humans also participated in similar experiences.  Mama had barely explained to me that women had a time of menses every month.  I had no idea how that could connect to the sexual, or even what sexual was.

I try hard not to remember his bloated, evil, face.  I don't want to remember his name.  There was nothing left of light or goodness in that man.  I had been dressed up like the village virgin given to a dragon as a sacrifice.  I didn't know that was why Madame LeRouge had me dressed in a lovely white dress.  I didn't understand why my hair was carefully brushed, and then curled in soft curls.  All that I knew was that Madame LeRouge would not let me leave.  She had locked me in to a room in the supposed "Boarding House." 

She had initially told me that her place was a Boarding House.  I suppose it was in a way.  I was allowed to board there.  The payment was my body.

Locked into a room I had pounded my hands bloody beating on the door.  When I tried to climb out of  the window I discovered that it had been nailed in such a way that the shutter could not be opened.

I heard a key turn in the lock of the door.  An older man came in the room.  At a glance I knew that he was evil.  Lust filled his eyes.  There was nothing human, nothing caring, left in those eyes.  They seemed to be the eyes that the Devil himself would have.  Perhaps it was the Devil looking through the man's evil eyes, and his evil purpose.

He began to undress me.  I resisted vigorously.  He backhand slapped me so hard that I tasted blood.  I didn't know until later that he had knocked one of my bottom teeth loose.  That calmed me for a moment because I was dazed.  Quickly I came back from my shock.  I kicked, I screamed, I bit, I fought.  This only seemed to excite him. 

I will not go any further with the horror of that night, that still reaches to me in nightmares.  Suffice it to say that when he left the room I was no longer a virgin.  I was beaten, bloodied, and almost unconscious. 

Emmy, Madame's illegitimate daughter came to me.  She is one of the only ones in this place of evil left with a soul.  She gently washed me all over.  Then she called Tallelujah to help.  The Big Ugly One that works for Madame took off the dress, and underclothing, that were now ripped and bloody.  Then Emmy and the Big Ugly put a nightie on me that was soft and warm as a baby chick.  That was good because I began to shake.  I have never felt so cold in all of my life.

Emmy gently, so gently brushed my hair.  Then she rubbed my head with some sort of soft oil.  It smelled how I imagine soft would smell.  Next she braided my hair in one single braid. 

Tallelujah gave me something in a small cup and told me to drink it.  I didn't even ask what it was.  It tasted vile.  It felt good going down.  I felt a fiery warmth flooding my body.  My anguish seemed dulled by this liquid.  It wasn't that I didn't hurt anymore.  I hurt everywhere.  I just didn't really care, about much of anything.

I had been sobbing the entire time they worked on me.  Emmy now climbed into bed with me.  She told Tallelujah to climb in on the other side.  They snuggled me warm between them.  At first I protested.  Human contact seemed dark and evil after my rape.  Soon their warmth, and the warmth of the liquid smoothed me into unconsciousness.

How I long for a time when the evil of that night will have no more power to take my peace.  It no longer impacts my conscious mind, but my unconscious mind seems as vulnerable to that darkness as I was that dreadful night.

I have thought that I should never write about that place of horror.  I don't want anyone to ever know what it was like.  Yet somehow writing about it, even though it forces me to re-live it, also takes some of the venom away from my soul.  After writing about it, I realize that I will overcome.  There will come a time when I no longer dream that pain, or only dream about it very rarely.

What a blessing it would be to awaken from that dream to the loving arms of a man.  Ironic, since it was the evil arms of other men that took my peace of mind.  Yet, just from knowing Blake Calkin, I remember that there are other types of men.  Kind men, that would NEVER cause harm or pain. 

Celeste's Journal

Eric and Jamie were with me today and then stayed with me overnight.  Red will come and get them tomorrow.  I adore these boys.  I feel as though they are mine.  I simply could not love them more. 

Eric is growing so quickly!  I can't seem to keep pants long enough for him.  I sew him new trousers about every two months.  I leave the hem incredibly thick so that I can keep unrolling them as he grows...and he still grows out of them in two months! 

I asked Red what he was feeding the boys. 

He laughed and said, "I don't know if I should tell you.  If I reveal my secret we may have a superhuman growth of humans!  What kind of a world would it be if all people were as tall as Blake Calkin?" 

I laughed at him.  Blake is very tall.  He's six feet four inches, and our world is not built for anyone that tall.  He has taught himself basic carpentry because he simply could not find chairs or tables to purchase that were tall enough for him. 

Blake also learned some basic upholstering because in his words, "When I'm finished with my work day I need something soft to sit in."

I believe Blake could do absolutely anything that he wanted to do! 

That is the end of my journal for tonight.  A wild thunder and lightning storm has rolled into our little town, and both of the boys are now clinging fiercely to me!