Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Doodles. Grinding the teeth. The family stories.

 Up until I was sixteen I had no choice, but to fall asleep listening to my grandma's doomsday bedtime stories. We were supposed to go to church the next morning. The stuff that creeped me out and interested me the most, was the part where the millions of people ground their teeth when the day came. I have always tried to imagine the sound and the faces, their white eyes, turned inside the head.
Then I gathered the courage and told my grandma I can't take fainting in the house of god anymore. I also said I didn't believe in god.
 I can't stand the sound of teeth grinding. It'a physical thing. I feel itchy all over if I hear it. Like other people are bothered by the sound of chalk screeching on the blackboard. 
I used to fall asleep with difficulty and I always ended up listening to people sleeping. One sound used to be my sister and her teeth.
 A couple of weeks ago dad told me a story I couldn't believe!
He and his famoly used to live near a jail in my hometown. Don't get me wrong, that area is totally nice and in the middle of the town. 
I remember standing in grandma's balcony and being able to see far far away, over the other houses and over the lake. I was also capable of witnessing some of the daily activities of the prisoners.

Anyway, my dad said, they were playing football, when somebody spotted a shoe. After some digging a leg still inside the shoe came to sight. No flesh, just bones. And the best part, they used to play football with real human sculls. Apparently the prisoners, sentenced to death were shot and buried in one spot. 
And all my teenage years I have had the same dream of visiting the huge garage area next to the grandparent house, behind the prison. I would come out from one of the garages, through the roof, out into the sunlight. 
My grandparents moved away and the dream stopped. Or did it start just then?

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