My Canvas: As Seen Through the Eyes of a Child

By Cherry Sparks

My Canvas is a collection of short stories that come together to create one. These are true stories based on a childs life, presented on coarse material, as seen through her eyes. Witness her struggle to understand lifes mysteries as she tries to fit into society, while basically raising her own self.
Her story will make you laugh at some of the witty things she does to survive and fit in, while other instances will make you cry as she encounters things she cannot comprehend. Follow her journey into adulthood where early life experiences affect her self-esteem and decisions.
This tale will jolt your memories back to your youth (especially if you ran the neighborhood and didn't get caught in mischievous acts) and above all, it will attest to basic desires as to what we all want and need: love and acceptance.
This piece will help teens and young adults speak up, and can also serve as a resource to help parents see the early signs of struggle in the lives of their children.
Feel free to go wherever your emotions direct you. Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479738427

Cherry Sparks

Cherry Sparks resides in Troy, Michigan. She is a former Miss Detroit, an accomplished actress who has starred in several Detroit productions. She has been a model for various hair magazines and is presently a hair stylist and author. Cherry enjoys playing indoor and outdoor sports, and aspires to direct and produce major films. Cherry is firmly spiritually grounded, loves life and is a humanitarian. Her ultimate goal is to become an advocate to help change lives by empowering people to believe in their self-worth, as she continues to work on her own.

Book preview

My Canvas

As Seen Through the

Eyes of a Child

Cherry Sparks

Copyright © 2012 by Cherry Sparks.

A collective of short stories coming together to create one. Times and dates may not be accurate, but, the stories are true.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

123895

Contents

Memoirs

How It All Manifested

Element of Surprise

Hiding Out

Intruder

Brother on Fire!

Where Are My Teeth?

Runaway Sister

A Whirlwind of Events

Making Money Dancing

First Time Seeing

and Hearing

Ice

Snake Skin

Roaches

Unfamiliar Territory

Running For My Life

Doing Dumb Things

A Loss

Family Time

Playing Momma

Secret Pain

Trickle Down Effect

The Puppies

Never Play With Fire

Life’s a Mystery

My Brother’s Father

God, Save My Brother

All by Myself

The Demotion

Contortionist

My Wrath

The Crazy Family

Creative Thieves

Hole in My Pocket

The Truth

Men,

Run For Your Life!

My Grandmother

Spooky

Ashes

Scared To Death

School and a Boy

The Glass

High School and Boys

I Said NO!

Having Too Much Fun

Betrayal

Love at First Sight?

Trying To

Hang In There

My Relatives

Abuse is Everywhere

One Plus One = 2

Two Glasses

Bouncing Checks

Tainted One

A Chance

Welcome Home

and to the Drug Game

Caught and Refuge

Not My Mother

Cheap

Gone Crazy

New Guy

Taking Charge

My Daughter,

Pigeon and Crow

New Job

Refuge

Stepping Up

My Job

Wendy’s, Really?

The Overlay

for the Underplay

Refuge

The Overlay for the Underplay: The Draw In

Refrigerator with Legs

My Work Place

Mark & Paula

My Sister Surfaced

The Overlay for the Underplay—She Strikes

Sent Help

The Help

The Takeover

Mr. Edison

Where Was My Sister?

The Mat and Bigfoot

Underplay’s Abuse

A Raise and

Some Freedom

Promoted To

Original Origin

The Raise

A Breakthrough

and Abuse Full Circle

Escape Try #2

Shackles Released

The Truth Hurt

Why?

Save Our Children

Where Am I?

Memoirs

About age 7

My grandmother gave me a cup of milk in a teal color aluminum cup and said, Here, drink some. When I put the cup to my mouth to drink the milk, I stopped, because for some strange reason it had a pungent smell. I didn’t drink it.

A few seconds later, my grandmother told me to drink my milk again. I told her that it smelled funny. She told me that it didn’t.

You better drink that milk before you get up, she said.

I just continued staring at that aluminum cup.

About two minutes later, I could see her coming back from my peripheral vision. She said, in a threatening manner, Didn’t I tell you to drink ALL that milk? I immediately thought, Now it’s ALL? What happened to SOME? By now, I had enough of her and told her, "It smells and probably tastes funny!

She responded, Ain’t nothing wrong with that milk and you better watch your tone. To prove me wrong, she finally put the cup of milk up to her nose and tasted it. Then all of a sudden, her demeanor changed. She wouldn’t even give me eye contact. While looking all crazy, she said, OH! in a low tone.

I’m thinking, OH my ass! Then she said, I am sorry baby it is spoiled; you can get up. I cut my eyes at her, but I didn’t let her see me. I had a few choice words for her too, but I didn’t say them. I knew that wasn’t going to work in my favor.

About age 5

I saw a guy walking up the street with a chicken or duck. Following right behind were some babies. They had bright yellow fur. My first thought was, Oooh they are sooo cute! My second thought was, I’m going to make me some baby chics.

I went into the house and went straight to the refrigerator and grabbed two eggs. Then I grabbed a white towel, wrapped them up to create heat, and then set them under the heater. I watched them for a few days. I didn’t notice any changes, so I just left them there, thinking they needed more time to hatch.

More days went by. I started to get frustrated. Then I noticed the outer shells getting brown. I started knocking on them to see if they were alive, but there was no response.

I figured maybe the babies were asleep. I would just wake them up and help them out. I cracked the shells open. When I did, all I saw were brown dried up eggs. I started thinking that I had overcooked and killed them.

What do you think? Possibly a mind is a terrible thing to waste?

About age 8

We lived with my mother’s girlfriend named Cynthia. They were preparing for dinner. Cynthia had to make a run and no one else was home, so that left me. Chitterlings were on the menu. My mother had taught me to clean them, so I helped out.

When Cynthia arrived home, she looked in the pot and said, Where are my damn chitterlings?

My mom responded and said, In the pot.

Her friend said, No, the rest of them?

Well the rest was waste. I threw them away.

Where?

In the black garbage bag, my mother said.

My mothers’ friend went straight to the black garbage bag and started pulling out the waste from the chitterlings. Then put them into the pot with the other chitterlings. My mother and I looked at each other and spoke telepathically…"I’m straight on dinner tonight, you?" Then we just nodded our heads in unison and walked away

Airis and Kyle

Dedication

To my sister Monica Sparks and my brother Daron King, I introduce you to the child that was in me. Sorry for the time missed being shared together and the separateness we were born into that just became a part of our lives. I dedicate this book to you both for our challenges we had to overcome and endure. We might have saw things differently when we were growing up, but the fact remains that we were presented with some of the same situations. I share with you my perspective… right, wrong or indifferent. I love you both.

To the child in me who came to me every night to make sure that this book was written. I love you for giving me courage and through your visions it allowed me to help set you free. You are not held captive anymore, but it will take time for me to heal. The strength to be honest with you brought me full circle. I know now fear has no control unless you allow it and speaking up is one of the most powerful things a person can do. Please understand that what happened to you was not your fault. In the end, it was just lessons for me to get to where I was supposed to be: a voice to help others find their self-worth.

To my mother, Paula Sparks, thank you for my life. I don’t know where I would be without these lessons. Ask me what would I change? I’d say nothing! But I wished I had more time to spend with you. If I never told you, I love you!

Five people can witness a three-car accident. If you ask each separately what happened, you may get three different answers. Why? Everything is told from an individual’s perspective. I introduce you to:

My Canvas

As Seen Through the Eyes of a Child

How It All Manifested

I can’t recall the exact time of day that their lives changed, but it was the day before Christmas when my fourteen-year-old mother was rushed to the hospital escorted by my 5'4", light-skinned grandmother.

My mother was screaming out loud in excruciating pain, and all the while, my grandmother believed that she simply had the flu or a ruptured spleen. After the doctor examined my mother, he realized that she was pregnant. By that time, the baby’s head had begun to crown, and the doctor immediately told the staff to get ready for delivery.

My grandmother looked around like, Who in the hell is he talking about? as she followed him around.

I know that you are not talking about my daughter! she argued. She’s only fourteen! Where is the stomach?!

The doctor said, I understand that, Miss, but she is about to deliver. You are welcome to assist.

My grandmother didn’t say another word. She just passed out, and a baby girl was born. Everybody kept telling her to put my mother on birth control pills, but she said, No! My baby is not going to do that again.

On December 9, 1968 at approximately 3:27 p.m., another baby girl was born. Hey wait, that’s me! My mother named me Cherry… Sparks at that.

Her name was Paula and my father’s name… well, we will get to that later. Red I was, with a flat nose. I had hair on my forehead that was connected to my eyebrows. My mother said that I looked like a Chinese pig and sounded like a hog. I sucked down a bottle so fast that she hid me under a blanket to disguise the noise.

My mother was sixteen at the time of my birth. My sister Monica was her first at the age of fourteen, with a different father.

My grandmother adored my sister. She was dark and I was light. In those times, people made a difference between dark and light children, and it still happens even today. But my grandmother was determined to make my sister feel loved and treat her no different because of her skin color.

The sad thing was that I suffered in the process, not only because I was light, but because I was born. My mother tried to give my grandmother what she wished for early on by taking pills to get rid of me while she was pregnant, but she was unsuccessful. Ultimately, God had plans for my life.

I cannot imagine the depression she experienced having two children by the age of sixteen. You barely know yourself at that age, let alone looking for love and now realizing that you had to give up even more.

The depression set in deeper and another attempt on my life was made. A game of peek-a-boo took place in my mind, as a pillow was placed over my head to smother me to death. When the pillow was removed, I smiled, and the pillow was again placed and removed.

As I giggled and smiled, my laughter became like music to my mother’s heart, letting her know that everything was going to be alright. She embraced me and knew that I loved her and she loved me, so she couldn’t kill me. I was a joy and God had plans for my life.

Element of Surprise

Now, I failed to tell you that my mother got married while I was in her stomach, and low and behold by the time she was eighteen, my brother was born to yet a different father. She named him Daron. He was high yellow with green eyes and curly hair. I don’t remember his father being around, or even my sister’s father for that matter.

What was strange to me was that the third baby was not her husband’s, but the fourth one was. Oh yeah, my mother had a fourth child by the time she was nineteen, or twenty (I can’t remember the exact age). But unfortunately, or fortunately (depending on how you look at it), the baby didn’t live long.

The baby was born a hermaphrodite (male and female) and died at birth. I was told that the body was donated to Wayne State University for research.

So to sum this all up, my mother must have taken a break from my father for a minute and got caught slipping.

Hiding Out

Speaking of slipping, at the age of 3, I lived in the Herman Garden Projects off of Joy Road. I was a fat child, always running around with bare feet. I can remember the sun always shining bright and I would sit around the house waiting for someone to leave the back door unlocked, like they always did, then I would make my escape to the fields and slip through the grass.

The grass was so tall and