The serious hands of a clergy

His eyes beamed over me like spotlights, he cracked a lascivious grin and his hand grabbed my breast.

His eyes beamed over me like spotlights, he cracked a lascivious grin and his hand grabbed my breast.

Comments about this post on ABC 500 words – A test of courage.

I met Sister Night, and soon after became her favourite girl. After Father Fatty gave me a private catechism lesson, he chose Sister Night to be my godmother and I was baptised.

As study became harder as the course went on, I couldn’t find time to go out or talk with Sister anymore. I wasn’t concerned then as I thought Sister needed time for the new refugee girls; I wasn’t very sensitive to Sister Night’s maternal need of feeling needed and loved, so Sister began verbally and psychologically bullying me. When I stood up for myself, she told me to move out. I begged a priest who frequented the house to find me accommodation and thus I left the communal house to live at the residence of a Catholic order. But wait there’s more!

A tale of the chosen

A pattern of being chosen and falling victim kept repeating on me. This time I turned the tables on fate.

A pattern of being chosen and falling victim kept repeating on me. This time I turned the tables on fate.

Comments about this post on ABC Open Drum – Casual racism.

I was paralysed with fear and sat through the meeting with my lab manager, looking down at the floor, saying nothing, until there was a long silence and we left the room.

I wanted to talk to someone about the stress I was enduring but also was afraid they couldn’t keep it secret, sparking uncontrollable rumours in the office.
I ended up keeping everything to myself. But wait there’s more!