Odnośniki
- Indeks
- Daniel Coyle the little book of talent 52 tips for improving your skills
- (E Book)Cia Mega Survival Bible Ebook 2
- Tricia Owens A Pirate's Life For Me Book 1
- Tricia Owens A Pirate's Life For Me Book 3
- BOOK Cariadoc Recipes 4 more Misc9recipes
- Lynn Abbey Chronicles Of Athas 04 Cinnabar Shadows (v1)
- Janny Wurts The Cycle of Fire 3 Shadowfane
- AniośÂowie i elfy Pickart Joan Elliott
- Radley Tessa To tylko seks
- McKenna_Lindsay_Niezwyczajna_dziewczyn
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- staramsie.pev.pl
She looked as surprised as I felt. "I'm sorry," I rushed to add.
"Forget I asked. It's none of my business."
"No,it's okay," she said, thinking. "That's a fair question."
She considered her answer for a few moments. "I guess
when I was growing up, I always felt kind of different
somehow. I didn't feel like a boy or anything. I knew I was a
girl, and that was fine with me. But I just didn't get the whole
point of boys existing." Her nose wrinkled, and I laughed.
"But I don't think I really figured out I was gay until about
eighth grade," she went on, "when I got a crush on
someone."
I looked up. A girl?
"Yes. Of course the girl didn't feel the same way about me
and I never told her about it or acted on it. I was so
embarrassed. I felt like a freak. I felt there was something
terribly wrong with me, that I needed counseling or help.Even
medicine."
"How awful," I said.
"It wasn't until college that I came to terms with it and finally
admitted to myself and everyone else that I was gay. I had
been seeing a therapist and he helped me see that there
really wasn't anything wrong with me. It's just how I was
made."
Page 83
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Aunt Eileen made a wry face. "It wasn't easy. My parents
your Grammy and Pop-pop were so horrified and
upsetThey just couldn't deal with it. They were so
disappointed in me. It's hard, you know, when the way you
are, the way you were born, just totally bewilders and
embarrasses your own parents."
I didn't say anything but felt a spark of recognition at what she
was saying.
Anyway, they gave me a really hard time. Not to be mean or
because they didn't love me but because they didn't know
how else to react They're a lot better now, but I'm still not at
all what they want me to be.They don't ever want to talk about
my being gay or people I'm involved with.Denial." She
shrugged. "I can't help that I've found that the more I accept it
and accept myself, the less friction I have in the rest of my life
and the less stressed and unhappy I am."
I looked at her in admiration. "You've come a long way,
baby," I said, and she laughed. She put her arm around my
shoulders and squeezed.
"Thank God for your mom and dad and you and Mary K." she
said with feeling. "I don't know what I would do without you
guys."
For the rest of the night I sat on the carpet of my room,
thinking. I knew I wasn't gay, but I understood how my aunt
felt. I was beginning to feel different from my family and even
my friends, strongly drawn to something they couldn't accept.
Part of me felt if I allowed myself to become a witch, I'd be
more relaxed, more natural, more powerful, more confident
than I'd ever felt in my life. Part of me knew that if I did, I'd
cause pain to the people I loved most.
IThat night I had a terrifying dream.
It was nighttime. The sky was streaked with broad bands of
moonlight highlighting clouds in shades of eggplant dove
gray, and indigo. The air was cold and I felt the chilly breeze
on my face and bare arms as I flew over Widow's Vale. It
was beautiful up there, calm and peaceful, with the wind
rushing in my ears, my long hair streaming out behind me,
my dress whipping around my legs and molding to the outline
of my
body.
Gradually I became aware of a voice calling me, a frightened
voice. I circled the town, wheeling lower like a hawk, circling
and diving and floating on great strong currents of air that
buoyed my body. In the woods at the north edge of town, the
voice was louder. I went lower still until the tops of the trees
practically grazed my skin. At a clearing in the middle of the
woods I sank down, landing gracefully on one foot
The voice belonged to Bree. I followed it into the woods until I
came to a boggy area, a place where an underground spring
seeped sullenly up through the earth, notflowing strongly
enough to make a creek but not drying, either. It provided just
enough moisture for breeding mosquitoes, for fungus, for soft
green molds glowing emerald in the moonlight.
Bree was stuck in the bog, her ankle trapped by a gnarled
rootGradually she was sinking, being Page 84
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,
http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
sucked under inch by inch. By the time the sun rose, she
would drown.
I held out my hand. My arm looked smooth and strong,
defined by muscles and covered with silvery, moonlit skin. I
clasped her outstretched hand, slippery with foul-smelling
mud, and I heard the suck of the bog around her ankle.
Bree gasped in pain as the root gripped her ankle. "I can't!"
she cried. "It hurts!"
I made waving motions with my free hand, my brow furrowed
with concentration. I felt the ache in my chest that signaled
magickal workings. I began to breathe hard, and my sweat
felt cold in the night air.
Bree was crying and asking me to let her go.
I waved my hand at the bog, willing the roots to set Bree
loose, to uncoil themselves, to stretch and open and relax
and set her free. All the while I pulled steadily on her hand,
easing her out as if I were a midwife and Bree was being
born out of the bog.
Then she cried out, her face alight, and we rose gracefully,
effortlessly in the air tonight. Her dress and legs were
covered in dark slime, and though out hand's contactI felt the
throbbing pain of her ankle.
But she was free. I flew with her to the edge of the woods and
set her down. Rising into the air, I left her there, weeping with
relief, watching me as I rose higher in the sky, higher and
higher, until I was just a speck and dawn began to break.
Then I was in a dark, rough room, like a barn. I was an infant
Baby Morgan. A woman was sitting on a bale of straw,
holding me in her arms. It wasn't my mom, but she was
rocking me and saying "My baby," over and over. I watched
her with my round baby eyes, and I loved her and felt how she
loved me.
I woke up, shaking and exhausted. I felt like I was battling the
flu, as if I could lie down and sleep for a hundred years.
"You feelingbetter?" Mary K. asked that afternoon. I had
gotten up and dressed around noon and had puttered around
the house, doing laundry, taking out the recycling.
I thought about Cal and Bree and everyone having a circle
tonight and I was aching to go.Cal probably expected me to
go after what had happened yesterday. In fact I really had to
go.
"Yeah," I answered Mary K. I picked up the phone to call
Bree."I just didn't sleep well, woke up all headachy." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]