My First Memory

What I'm about to share with you is something I have never ever ever told any one in the whole wide world ever. I'm being over-expressive because this is a really difficult experience to describe and the thought of it brings back all those feelings of dread and anguish. This is my first memory, the earliest thing I can remember and quite possibly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Ever. 

I was somewhere between 2 and 3 years old, it was before my brother was born so it was just me and mum at home during the day. 

I was in the lounge room when I heard the rumbling rolling. The sound caught my heartbeat and sent it flying, faster and faster. The moaning started next, muffled cries of pain heralding what was coming. I could feel the vibrations through the floor and I slowly rode them to the corridor. From the bedroom, at the front of the house, a new image superimposed itself on the sunlight shining through the window and illuminating the green grass of the garden. What was it? Was it coming for me?

It was them, coming for me. 

It was a great wheel of metal and flesh. Naked, dirty bodies of men and women. I'd never seen anything like this before. They were tied to a giant wheel. The wheel of death. They were on a mission, sent by Hell or by Death, I don't know. I tore back to the lounge and threw myself into my father's chair. I curled up beneath the cushion of the seat and closed my eyes tight. I listened to the sound, the rumble ripped through the house and rolled through the glass doors, out into the backyard and away. 

I don't know why they came and went, or who for. Whatever it is has been with me ever since. In dreams that shaped me. Suffocated and defiant, yet scared and alone. Who could ever understand the fear of seeing Hell in the flesh at less than three years of age. 

I will always hope for the best but I will always fear you too.