Vengeance is Mine, Says Me

Old wounds close eventually. Then comes

a scab, then the scar. Stitches are sometimes
required, but indeed time heals all wounds.
Well, maybe not all, but some, I would add.

I shall never forget that day when my older
brother threw a section of stove pipe at me.
The sharp end hit my left hand, and opened
a gaping, bleeding gash between the middle

fingers. I did, however, get even with him one
night when he was climbing the dark and nar-
row staircase which led from the kitchen of our
house up to the second floor. I waited for him

silently hidden behind a turn in the banister.
And as he nearly reached the landing, I leapt
out giving a deep and abrupt sinister growl.
And the fool went down to his knees scream-

ing like a baby. See here, this is the scar he left
with me for the rest of my days. Oh, but he paid
for his dastardly deed. That horrific scare at the
top of the stairs made him wish he was dead.

But as fate would have it, he wound up having
to live in fear of climbing dark staircases instead.

Chris Hanch 4-1-19