Sometimes, it seems as if the story of my life is written in water-rain, tears, or lake. My mamma once said I was twice-born, once of her, once of the lake. A second womb, the lake would enclose her and me as she waded deeper and deeper into the blue-fingers of water a tuggin’,at us, algea pressin’ close until my skin gleamed crocodile green. She would sway, breast deep,bare under the stern glower of sunlight, weeping into the slick swell of tide ,…”it would be so easy, so easy…” she would mummer and the reeds would sigh in agreement, the lake babbling back soothingly. The ducks and coots would paddle past us, unconcerned with my mother’s still figure and bowed head, my eagerly grasping fingers. It was as if they already knew us as strangely shaped, but familiar denizens of their home. Those sad, damp mornings, I looked into the lake and it looked right back at me. It regarded me with the same benign indulgence as it viewed the tadpoles, turnin’ themselves into frogs and climbin’ on unsteady feet for their first unsteady venture to the earth. It knew. It was too late for them and it was too late for me too. Go where you will…you will be back, and I will be waiting.
4am #vonnegutspread and writing for the win! Continuation of my villain prequel.She is kind of taking over my story. I may have to weave her into the main story. Maybe alternating scenes with the heroine? #writerstarotchallenge #nanowrimo #writing #