Beginning

I stood in the middle of the market in town covered in dirt and sticky fruit crying. My mother sees me and orders me to her side. I am angry so I refuse. She pierced me with her gaze, my anger submits to fear. I join her side. I look up to her and open my mouth to speak, she grabs my arm and takes me to the whipping post in the center of town. I whimper softly, this is my first time. She has me hold the leather straps while knelt on my knees. I feel the hot tears as the square becomes crowded. I hear the crack of the whip and ripping flesh across my back. I scream but I tell myself I will not give the bullies the satisfaction of another sound. I took the last two lashes without even a whimper. Everyone cleared out, going back to what they were doing beforehand, except the 4 older boys whom seemed to love shoving me into the dirt. They snickered before their parents called for them to leave. I silently vowed that this was the last time I would visit the whipping post as the subject of its humiliation.

My mother walked us home in silence. I knew she was angry with me. I didn't understand why these boys tormented me every chance they had. It seemed trouble liked to follow me around when I left our home. The boys ranged from 6 to 9 years old, what about me made them want to pick on me?

While my mother cleaned my back and applied herbal medicine I gathered my courage.

"Mother... What is a bastard? Why do others treat us different? I do not understand."

She sighs and with her dark blue eyes looking into my soul she says, " Phoenix... You are destined for great things. Weak people try to bring those that they fear down. Do not let those people bring you down. People fear the unknown."

I nod my head. She pulls me into her arms in a loving embrace. My back hurts, but I don't mind being in my mother's arms.

I think back to those boys and wonder if they truly fear me. I'm only three so what do they have to be scared of? Right now they have age, size, and strength on their side. I tell myself that one day they may have true reason to fear me.

My mother is my teacher and my trainer. She was many things before I was born. She is the strongest person I know. I look up to her and sometimes fear her. Though I have been bullied, called names, shoved around... no one has ever dared to do so in my mother's presence. They seemed to avoid eye contact and stear clear of my mother, I always assumed it was lack of respect and it angered me. I will not let the bullies just bully me, I will fight back. I stored my anger, waiting.