!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
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The English word "home" originally meant simply the house in which one dwelt-an abiding place, or a dwelling place. But it means much more than this, and stands for all that is best in family life. When a wizard thinks tenderly of his home, he is not thinking merely about a house but also of his family, in which his warmest affections, his dearest ambitions, and his memories were or are centered.
When he is young, home is whenever his father or mother, and brothers and sisters are; and when he is older, his wife and children are home to him.
Yet unfortunately, I was grown in a place where I couldn't call it home, with no family nor affections nor memories to be conducted, except for suffocating ambition.
This world is blessed to have many different species. The people around me are blessed to have their own kind to mingle with, but I am cursed because the same people, who share my kind, were the ones who deserted me and left myself to feel so very alone...
Who was I? Who am I? What am I? These questions had haunted me through out my life, from the time I could remember...When I gazed at my reflection in the early past, I only saw a skinny boy, barely the age of five, dressed in rags with eyes that were concave, for never had I felt the positive emotions, one customarily feels...
The only thing I knew about myself was that I was an orphan named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Apart from that, I was a soul trapped in a body which was enslaved by the cruelty of "humanity."
If you look around many of you regret and ignore or simply take for granted the precious family which you already encompass. But think of the others...There are many children in this world, who are deprived of love and appreciation from their parents. I was one of the deprived. As I grew up, tragedy hit me...Forceful, cruel blows were beaten upon me by fate and life around me...
These blows came from the vicious society which erupted upon me like a volcano...So how can I be faulted to have become who I am and who I was destined to be? When it was the world which molded me to result in who I was to become...
Many psychologically disturbed children are the output of their past, who were oppressed in the tender age, mastered and trained like animals; beaten and whipped like the cut of a knife into a fruit... Animals protest, but ears are deaf to their cries because they simply can't be understood... My cries likewise were completely ignorant to those with hard hearts who simply were determined not to hear them...
Only handfuls are actually able to control their sentiments of being oppressed... But unfortunately I didn't belong to that fortunate handful... I turned into a beast...
I was the first victim of such a harsh reality, though thereafter (like the werewolf) I became the victimizer...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
"Tom! How many times did I tell you to clean the floors till it shines?" interrupted a voice from my racing thoughts.
That commanding question belonged to the mistress of the orphanage in which I lived, ever since my birth... No one wanted me so I was shun away to a dreary life, only to be fed on the scraps which the people threw out of charity...
"But Aunty Susan, I did clean them as well as I could! Can't I stop now? My hands are aching!"
A thundering slap stung my face as the furious expression of the brunette woman came into focus.
"Never call me 'Aunty Susan,' you pathetic dirty brat! I told you to address me as 'Mistress' or 'Madame.' Do you hear?"
I nodded, unable to look at those piercing frosty eyes... Tears blurred my vision but my heart was too tired to ache once more...
"As for the work, you are going to do as you're told or you'll get no food for the rest of the day!"
With the washcloth in my hand, I got down onto my knees again. The tears welling up in my eyes flowed, like a cascading waterfall and my stomach rumbled...
It was hours since I had dinner which consisted of nothing but a few slices of coarse bread soaked in milk.
At the age of eight I was skin and bones, constantly fainting due to the lack of nutrition...But still my workload never tended to cease...
"Illegitimate children shouldn't be given much food since they should repent for their parent's sins," said a woman who had once spoken to Mrs. Susan Crowe, the orphanage's benefactress.
I had been polishing the tables at that time, so I overhead the conversation though anyway they went on as always like I was a piece of furniture lying around.
"Yes, we make sure that the food is limited or too much luxury goes into their heads," replied Mrs. Crowe accepting a money order from the woman conversing with her.
My hands had shook due to the overwhelming pain in me at such a declaration and even more so when the woman said "I hate these little scoundrels, they look worse than rats to me."
For no times end after that incident, I remember glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My bony fingers used to trace the outlines of my sunken face. I used to wonder why that lady had said something like that..."Have I not two eyes, a nose and a mouth like everyone else?" my childish mind questioned. But veracity was so cold that it gave me no answer...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
There was even a time when I ran away from the muggle orphanage, living in the streets watching through the windows inside the homes where parents kissed their children goodnight or where grandparents read stories out aloud to them.
The muggles had everything which I was deprived of. Family, security, food and most important of all, love...
My family on the other hand consisted of alley cats and abandoned dogs, my security was the sun, wind and rain around me and my food, which I ate, were from thrown away trash in which I searched endlessly to prevent myself from dying.
Such a life I was able to withstand till a week, before becoming vulnerable to retreat back to where I came from...
However my return wasn't greeted with welcome or joy...
"Came back did you? Whatever for? We were hoping not to even find your corpse! But now I see we got the extra mouth to feed again!"
With those words I got a severe beating which left me with bruises and agony. Yet those were nothing compared to the mental and the spiritual wounds which deformed me entirely...
For the rest of the day, I was a prisoner of a cellar which haunted me in my nightmares... In there I was kept in total darkness, without food as a punishment for running away... The smell of decay hung in there which stifled my senses. The cold stone floor was insufficient comfort to my tormented body and the silent stillness numbed my brain into madness.
When I came out of that place, I was lesser than a living creature and more like a half dead creature, defeated and tortured into obedience like a bird with chipped wings...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
To be continued...R/R
The English word "home" originally meant simply the house in which one dwelt-an abiding place, or a dwelling place. But it means much more than this, and stands for all that is best in family life. When a wizard thinks tenderly of his home, he is not thinking merely about a house but also of his family, in which his warmest affections, his dearest ambitions, and his memories were or are centered.
When he is young, home is whenever his father or mother, and brothers and sisters are; and when he is older, his wife and children are home to him.
Yet unfortunately, I was grown in a place where I couldn't call it home, with no family nor affections nor memories to be conducted, except for suffocating ambition.
This world is blessed to have many different species. The people around me are blessed to have their own kind to mingle with, but I am cursed because the same people, who share my kind, were the ones who deserted me and left myself to feel so very alone...
Who was I? Who am I? What am I? These questions had haunted me through out my life, from the time I could remember...When I gazed at my reflection in the early past, I only saw a skinny boy, barely the age of five, dressed in rags with eyes that were concave, for never had I felt the positive emotions, one customarily feels...
The only thing I knew about myself was that I was an orphan named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Apart from that, I was a soul trapped in a body which was enslaved by the cruelty of "humanity."
If you look around many of you regret and ignore or simply take for granted the precious family which you already encompass. But think of the others...There are many children in this world, who are deprived of love and appreciation from their parents. I was one of the deprived. As I grew up, tragedy hit me...Forceful, cruel blows were beaten upon me by fate and life around me...
These blows came from the vicious society which erupted upon me like a volcano...So how can I be faulted to have become who I am and who I was destined to be? When it was the world which molded me to result in who I was to become...
Many psychologically disturbed children are the output of their past, who were oppressed in the tender age, mastered and trained like animals; beaten and whipped like the cut of a knife into a fruit... Animals protest, but ears are deaf to their cries because they simply can't be understood... My cries likewise were completely ignorant to those with hard hearts who simply were determined not to hear them...
Only handfuls are actually able to control their sentiments of being oppressed... But unfortunately I didn't belong to that fortunate handful... I turned into a beast...
I was the first victim of such a harsh reality, though thereafter (like the werewolf) I became the victimizer...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
"Tom! How many times did I tell you to clean the floors till it shines?" interrupted a voice from my racing thoughts.
That commanding question belonged to the mistress of the orphanage in which I lived, ever since my birth... No one wanted me so I was shun away to a dreary life, only to be fed on the scraps which the people threw out of charity...
"But Aunty Susan, I did clean them as well as I could! Can't I stop now? My hands are aching!"
A thundering slap stung my face as the furious expression of the brunette woman came into focus.
"Never call me 'Aunty Susan,' you pathetic dirty brat! I told you to address me as 'Mistress' or 'Madame.' Do you hear?"
I nodded, unable to look at those piercing frosty eyes... Tears blurred my vision but my heart was too tired to ache once more...
"As for the work, you are going to do as you're told or you'll get no food for the rest of the day!"
With the washcloth in my hand, I got down onto my knees again. The tears welling up in my eyes flowed, like a cascading waterfall and my stomach rumbled...
It was hours since I had dinner which consisted of nothing but a few slices of coarse bread soaked in milk.
At the age of eight I was skin and bones, constantly fainting due to the lack of nutrition...But still my workload never tended to cease...
"Illegitimate children shouldn't be given much food since they should repent for their parent's sins," said a woman who had once spoken to Mrs. Susan Crowe, the orphanage's benefactress.
I had been polishing the tables at that time, so I overhead the conversation though anyway they went on as always like I was a piece of furniture lying around.
"Yes, we make sure that the food is limited or too much luxury goes into their heads," replied Mrs. Crowe accepting a money order from the woman conversing with her.
My hands had shook due to the overwhelming pain in me at such a declaration and even more so when the woman said "I hate these little scoundrels, they look worse than rats to me."
For no times end after that incident, I remember glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My bony fingers used to trace the outlines of my sunken face. I used to wonder why that lady had said something like that..."Have I not two eyes, a nose and a mouth like everyone else?" my childish mind questioned. But veracity was so cold that it gave me no answer...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
There was even a time when I ran away from the muggle orphanage, living in the streets watching through the windows inside the homes where parents kissed their children goodnight or where grandparents read stories out aloud to them.
The muggles had everything which I was deprived of. Family, security, food and most important of all, love...
My family on the other hand consisted of alley cats and abandoned dogs, my security was the sun, wind and rain around me and my food, which I ate, were from thrown away trash in which I searched endlessly to prevent myself from dying.
Such a life I was able to withstand till a week, before becoming vulnerable to retreat back to where I came from...
However my return wasn't greeted with welcome or joy...
"Came back did you? Whatever for? We were hoping not to even find your corpse! But now I see we got the extra mouth to feed again!"
With those words I got a severe beating which left me with bruises and agony. Yet those were nothing compared to the mental and the spiritual wounds which deformed me entirely...
For the rest of the day, I was a prisoner of a cellar which haunted me in my nightmares... In there I was kept in total darkness, without food as a punishment for running away... The smell of decay hung in there which stifled my senses. The cold stone floor was insufficient comfort to my tormented body and the silent stillness numbed my brain into madness.
When I came out of that place, I was lesser than a living creature and more like a half dead creature, defeated and tortured into obedience like a bird with chipped wings...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
To be continued...R/R
