The pressure on her arm was surprisingly tight. And then there was the fierce wriggling and kicking. All that, including the screaming and the mouth like an "O" with rage and disgust in that small, perfectly shaped, but reddish face, were evidence that this young lady had what was needed and that she would never become like her mother even before she got sick. Doreen-Marie was the child's name, but in looks and in actions she was more like the brave and headstrong heroines of the past. Relentless like a born Amazon warrior-queen. Being her aunt was more and more becoming a pleasure and the adoption a dream come true. This was even better than giving birth herself, she thought. The only tag was the father of the child because unknown DNA is like a disguised bomb, waiting to explode. Who knows what's in a string of inherited characteristics when the owner of it is unknown? Yeah, this pretty, wild and wonderful firecracker was to have become a blood clot in a pan, no wriggling, no kicking or fierce stare at the one who attempted to hold her when she wanted to run and have fun on her own. When her unwanted presence was detected by the doctors of her very young mother it had been too late to turn what was now a living child into a shady memory of abuse and mystery. The child, this innocent trouble maker, had grown and had become a demanding wonder, always hungry, always on the alert to obtain what she needed to grow even more. And who gave it to her? At first the besotted personnel at the orphanage, those who at first had wanted to give her away to the first, the best individual who wanted her. One of those who wanted to give her a home was the woman who now was holding her so lovingly, actually her great aunt, and she won this small treasure, but then didn't her wealthy and well-connected family always win? No, when the girl who was to become the mother of this child was hit by a run-away car and lost her identity in a brain-damage they didn't win anything except a very young woman suddenly turned into a 5 year old girl. The driver was never found, never prosecuted or sentenced and nobody knew who he was. Neither did anyone know the unknown man who was responsible for the birth of this small, wild, but beautiful addition to an old family. Who was it who had abused, seduced or lured her senseless mother into sexual acts that had lead to this unexpected birth? Who had DARED to approach the brain-damaged daughter of the rich, old family? Nobody knew, but they guessed at some pedlar, or perhaps a servant. To see her perfectly shaped baby face didn't lead to any clues. Who was she, this fairy, this angel from nowhere? And did it really matter when the child was like this? Her adoptive mother sat down and watched her daughter closely, bewildered at loving what she saw, each and one unknown feature, mixed with her own strong family traits. The child looked back at her, cocking her head a little as if she herself was deliberating something and now browsed her features to find an answer to a delicate question, something like e.g. this one: "Is this creature, this old, old mother, good enough to me? Should I accept such a strange looking one as my mother?" Her puckered brow made her look so funny, like a very old, wise school-marm, that her adoptive mother couldn't help laughing out loud. The child caught on to this rippling sound and started to laugh herself. Mother and child looked at each other, eye to eye, laughter to laughter, and their inner beings interlocked like never before. "Oh yes," the mother thought, "no matter who you are you're a gem, no doubt about it and we are a team against all the world should they be prejudiced." As to the child, then her beautiful, blue eyes grew even bigger with delight and now she contemplated her relative, her adopted mother, with pleasure, yeah even with happiness. No more kicking, no more screaming for the time being, only pleasure and contentment at sitting on this friendly lap. All rights reserved © EC
Originally Posted On Site: 2010-03-26 02:10:00
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