Hate Came to Stay
by Anne E Thompson
Yesterday, Hate came to stay. Uninvited, he knocked on the door and when I opened it, to see who was calling, he burst in, pushing past me. I knew he had visited other houses, he had caused damage and hurt and anger. But he had never visited me before. He came yesterday.
He went into the kitchen and smashed all my plates. He over-turned chairs and tore my cushions. He punched my children and spat at my dog. When I went near he scratched me and made me bleed. The house was dark, he closed all the curtains. I was hurt and frightened and angry.
But worse, worse than the pain and fear and broken china, was the slime. Every time I tried to stop him, to catch him, hurt him, trap him, he produced more slime. It came off him in silver trails, sticking to everything he touched, dirty, germ filled, slime. It made me change. I began to be like him. I wanted to punch him, cut him, hurt him.
Others came to my door, friends and family and people needing help. I bolted it shut, refused to let them in. I glared at the world and felt dark thoughts from my hiding place under the bed. I wanted to scratch and bite and smash.
So I went to the window and I looked at the sun. I let the light brighten my mind, sear my eyes, burn off the slime.
Then I turned to Hate. I made him tea but he threw it on the carpet. I gave him bandages for his wounds but he used them to tie up the cat. I made him a cake but he trampled it into the rug. But I noticed the slime was disappearing, there was less of it. I read him stories but he put his fingers in his ears. I sang him songs but he swore at me. I danced for him but he threw stones at me. Hate would not accept love. But Love stopped the slime.
Love made a cage. At last, when I was so tired I thought I would fall, Hate was trapped. The bright cage of Love enclosed Hate. There was no more slime. He couldn’t escape. I pushed the cage out of the door. Hate was gone. I began to sweep up the broken glass.
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