[ WP ] `` There are three things a wise man fears , a storm at sea , a moonless night , and the anger of a gentle man ''

There are three things a wise man fears, a storm at sea, a moonless night, and the anger of a gentle man. That's what my Grandam always said. The first two made sense. Her and Grandpa used to be fishermen. Or Fisherman and woman I guess. They spent months out at sea, so they knew the fear of the storm, the power of nature and your helplessness in it. And in the darkness of a moonless night, especially a cloudy one, it was so easy to get yourself spun around and lost. 
 
 The last one threw me though. I assumed she meant Grandpa. He was the gentlest man I knew- he rescue the neighbours kitten from a snowy night outside, and he never laid down poison for the mice in the shed, just caught them and drove them back out to the fields. I could n't ever imagine him angry. It did n't seem possible. 
 
 One day, I went around Grandma and Grandpa's house with my friend Lisa. Lisa had n't been herself lately- she'd been awful quiet- but I thought I could cheer her up by showing her the robin's nest in their garden. Plus, it was a Friday, and Grandma always baked on a Friday. No-one could be sad with one of her cookies and a glass of milk. She cooed over the nest like I thought she would, and took pictures, but something still seemed wrong. When Grandpa called us in for cookies, Lisa tripped on the door frame, and her skirt flew up to reveal her legs were covered in cuts, and small, round burns. 
 
 Grandma rushed over and helped her up. Lisa was embarrassed, and let herself be led over to the kitchen table. Grandpa was... unusually quiet. 
 
 `` Sweetheart... what are all those marks on your legs?'' Grandma asked, giving her the biggest cookie off the tray. Lisa looked away. `` Please sweetie, I promise you're not going to be in trouble. Just let ol' Nana Smith help you.'' 
 She looked at me, uncertain. I took her hand and squeezed it. `` It's okay Lisa. Grandma is good at secrets. I'd trust her with my life.'' I felt how tense she was. 
 
 `` I.... I was a bad girl. I did n't get all my chores done, so Papa had to...'' she said, barely crying. `` I was bad. So He had to. That's what happens to bad kids.'' She sounded like a robot, as if she'd heard those words a thousand times before. 
 
 `` Lisa. Did your Papa hit you?'' Grandpa asked, his voice soft as clouds but eyes full of steel. 
 
 `` N... no. He did n't *hit* me.'' Her emphasis was... odd. Those round marks... my eyes grew wide. 
 
 `` Lisa are those from his cigarettes?!'' I asked horrified. Her father smoked these horrible, fat cigarettes that smelt like medicine. She nodded slowly. 
 
 `` I'm a bad girl. Bad girls get what's coming to them.'' She said quietly. Grandma swept her up in a hug, and said `` Sweetheart you are not a bad girl. I've seen you every day with my little pumpkin, and I think I'd know. You are not a bad girl. And no-one should ever hurt anyone like that, let alone their won little princess.'' 
 
 Lisa burst into tears, and hugged into my Grandma. I was shocked still. I looked to Grandpa to ask him what should we do... but he was gone. 
 
 Lisa spent the night at my house, and Grandma's insistence. Mama never said no to Grandma when she got serious like that. I kept trying to ask where Grandpa was, but no-one would answer. The next day, a policeman came to the house to talk to Lisa. I was n't allowed in, but Lisa told me he asked about her Papa, and took photos of her legs and belly. He told us that her Papa was in the hospital right now. Grandpa went over to talk to him, and while they had been talking her Papa had fallen down the stairs, and hurt himself. He was lucky Grandpa had been there... he almost died. Grandpa called the ambulance, and the police. Lisa's Papa had broken the law by hurting her with his cigarettes and his belt, even if she'd been naughty. Not that I though she had, she was the best-est person ever, but even if, he was still wrong. 
 
 It was n't until the policeman had gone that I remembered that Lisa lived in a bungalow. They did n't have any stairs. I remembered what Grandma had always said. 
 
 `` There are three things a wise man fears, a storm at sea, a moonless night, and the anger of a gentle man''
