Well, my pen name is actually my real name, and the SSG part is 'Staff Sergeant', as in Army-type rank. I'm a father of five (four daughters and a son, ranging between two and 15 years old), and have been a military policeman for about 18 years now. I've been writing in one form or another since I was 15 (22 years now!), and I keep doing it mostly just for the hell of it. I've been into anime for at least the last 15 years, and got up the nerve to start writing fan fiction back in about '98. I've written in the Bubblegum Crisis continuum and Hellsingon the anime side and Star Wars, Smallville and Earth's Children (which I've been reading since I was a kid) more generally. I don't know how much time I'll have for writing in the near future as I've developed some rather nasty health problems over the last couple of years (bit of a benign brain tumor I'm afraid) but I still have plenty of ideas in my head that need somewhere to go.
I borrowed the following little poem about child abuse from http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1540832/whipped-and_proud
My name is Sarah
I am but three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,
I must be stupid
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy
Would still want to hug me.
I can't speak at all
I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up
All the day long.
When I awake
I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home
When my mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get just
One whipping tonight.
Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charlie's Bar.
I hear him curse
My name he calls
I press myself
Against the wall
I try and hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry
He finds me weeping
He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault
That he suffers at work.
He slaps me and hits me
And yells at me more,
I finally get free
And I run for the door.
He's already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken.
"I'm sorry!", I scream
But its now much too late
His face has been twisted
Into unimaginable hate
The hurt and the pain
Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy!
Oh please let it end!
And he finally stops
And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless
Sprawled on the floor
My name is Sarah
And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.
I just found that one browsing around the site here on someone's profile. If you want to take a look, just cut and paste the url into your browser. If you do decide to look at this, prepare to have your stomach twisted into knots; one of the sites that googling the first two lines of that poem leads to has a VERY comprehensive list of kids who've died of abuse over the last couple of decades. I'm not ashamed to admit that some of those stories made this 37 year old Soldier shed a few tears...
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