Thursday, August 20, 2009

Rigor Mortis -- A story in many parts

Part I

It began unknowingly. Life. One the first day of her life she was but a foundling. As we all are on the first day of our lives. A screaming, misshapen, monkey like foundling. Her parents were in the room, she was surrounded and cosseted, she was protected and loved. People waited at the end of long telephone lines and invisible satellite waves to hear of her coming into the world. Future aunts gossiped about the length of her mother's labour and grandmothers hoped she would be fair. Grandfathers grunted into the phone their approval while uncles yelled across the room to their nieces and nephews, the news of another. She was willed and she was wanted.

Foundling nevertheless. For death had abandoned her. Her being would now solely be defined by this. By the act of life.

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