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  • By ericca thornhill
    Jun 16, 2011
    Chapter 1: I was born from an egg the color of blood, the color that would wash over my life, tinting everything that I touched, forever drenching me in its sweet cinnamon scent, inescapably leading me to the garden of execution. Before my birth, I floated among folds of silk that brushed against my skin like the caress of a sun-warmed rose petal. Everything inside my little world was bathed in a rosy glow, and newly awakened, I was aware of the outside world. I could feel the sunlight and the rhythms of beautiful music sung by perfect voices that belonged to the angels. They were the lords of this world, the caretakers, the builders, the ones who loved. I lay curled against the warm shell, listening to their songs, believing their words; the joys of life, the beauty of existence, the sure knowledge that we would someday be Found and above all, the lessons of love. I memorized those lessons before I saw the light of the moon. I knew the definition of that ancient power. My angels... More > sang, trilled with energy, and vocalized the joy of joining them. As I grew, I came to a moment when I knew that it was time to join them. Slipping between the great folds of crimson silk, pressing against the tough shell, peeling back the membranes with my tiny little claws, I stretched out and bit and scrabbled my fingers until I finally broke through the calcium carbonate wall that had been my protection. The bright light of the sun seemed to spear my limbs; blinking and unsure, I stood up wet and weak, a newborn child. I stretched, exalting in the delicious tremors that ran through my limbs and stood in the middle of the shards of my broken egg and I looked about. My great shadow fell over the flagstones as I wondered and gloried in the world. I was in the middle of a garden, a beautiful world of greenery, surrounded by other large eggs and I could see that they were wobbling and cracking. As I stumbled over the edge of my shell, I was grabbed from behind by hands that felt like claws of steel and using those hands, the angels dragged me from my crimson shards. I wailed and I struggled. I reached for my broken egg, wishing that I could escape back inside, but I was too weak. The angels who had sung so sweetly to me pulled me to the flagstones and I stumbled in confusion. One put her hands over my eyes; another pushed my stomach into the hard stones. Others grabbed me as I flailed and kicked. Suddenly I felt a terrible ripping. The pain cut through me, crimson blood ran over my arms, my neck, dripped down my sides and glistened in the morning air as I struggled to escape this torture. I screeched at them. I tried to bite the angel who held my eyes. The pain continued. I was furious, bewildered and in agony. It felt as though they were tearing me apart. A black wave of nausea rolled over me and I retched as I smelled my fragrant blood dripping down onto the ground below. “Daub the wounds with balsam gum,” a cold and passive voice commanded.< Less
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Product Details

June 7, 2011
Perfect-bound Paperback
Interior Ink
Black & white
0.91 lbs.
Dimensions (inches)
4.25 wide x 6.88 tall
Product ID
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