Journey (Rising from a Bower of Silk: Tales of Transformation Book 1)

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Read more Read less. Prime Book Box for Kids. About the Author Sarah Deckard composes poetry, short stories, and novels. AuthorHouse October 5, Language: Be the first to review this item Amazon Best Sellers Rank: Related Video Shorts 0 Upload your video. Customer reviews There are no customer reviews yet. Share your thoughts with other customers.

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Shopbop Designer Fashion Brands. Withoutabox Submit to Film Festivals. He cooed to her and kissed her. Both child and mother need some rest. As he passed through the bedroom door, the midwife followed him. She shut the door behind her. I may be mistaken. However, she seems to be curled too tightly and there is a large lump on her back.

She needs to rest. Still, I am concerned about the baby. I must be sure my little one is healthy. He inspected the baby with thorough care.

After the examination, he turned to the new parents. His face betrayed his concerned. There is nothing I can do.

She will grow up to be a hunchback. And there may be other problems internally. Although her heart and lungs sound fine, it is difficult to tell if any other parts of her are malformed and could cause problems later. The more she tries to sit or stand straight when she is older, the more painful it will be for her. However, with her back bent, her weight will be thrown forward.

This imbalance may cause difficulties in learning to walk and, after that, in walking normally. She will probably shuffle when she walks. The doctor added some consolation. As I said, her heart and lungs are strong. She may not have any other complications than this. Children can be cruel. Then, when she is a young woman. Friends, suitors, a future with children of her own?

Are these all beyond her sphere? Is she fated to be denied a normal life from the moment she is born?

You have mentioned significant concerns. The best you can do is to love her and try to shelter her from the callousness of the world. I wish I could do more, but this is a birth defect. It cannot be altered by medicine. I hope people will be able to see past her physical form to the true image of her beautiful spirit. He hugged his wife and kissed baby Veronica. Silence filled the room, but it was not a comfortable feeling. Instead, troubled ghosts of thought furrowed the brows of the couple. Fears, both named and unforeseen, rustled about in their heads.

Time hovered, heavy with foreboding. Her lips were drawn and her eyes misted with pain. What if the next child has similar problems? But to lose a baby.

She began sobbing again. I support your decision. The couple had originally planned on having several children but life has a way of interfering with dreams. It was my only cloak, which showed how poor Mama and I were. Ever since Papa went out to hunt last winter and never came home, we had not had enough to eat.

So there was no money for a new cloak. My face felt hot. They must have thought because I was poor I was dirty, too. And sometimes one of the older girls would snicker.

I asked her why they were so cruel to me. I thought she was going to yell at me, but she continued to stir the soup without saying anything for many moments. She did not go on. She looked into the steam as if she saw something far away there. I asked her what she meant.

Sarah Deckard

But you are only ten now and can still afford to be a child. There is more than one way a person can bleed. You will find out what kind of blood they mean in time. Our hearts bled; he was gone forever. After I had closed the door, I could hear my mama crying inside. I went into the woods to sit alone and think about what she had said. Now I knew what kind of blood the other girls meant. Mother said it was getting to be past time for me to have it. I still had the red cloak, which the children teased me about.

My body was small for my age so the cloak fit, even though it was too short to look proper. It had become very stained by then, and worn through in places. Nor did we have old clothes we could spare to cut into patches. So I wore my old cloak to spread seeds for the geese and gather their eggs. When I slopped our hog, the muck of it sloshed onto my now brownish-red cloak, which was covered in bits of fur from tending our goats. Dirt stains came from sitting on the ground, weeding our little garden.

And, as always, little threads got pulled and balled up from blackberry thorns and pine bark as I gathered the fruits and nuts among them. She had been sick with some mysterious illness. My mother charged me with her care.

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So I took her herbs, eggs, goat cheese, and milk. But she felt warm to the touch and she acted different. Babushka told me to slaughter the sow; but she was to give birth soon. Babushka had eaten her own geese already, as well as her goat. I wondered how she would have any eggs or milk besides what I brought her. She was almost too old, and certainly too sick, to go out in the woods and hunt for wild carrots, leeks, pine nuts, and other plants to eat.

I worried for her. She also talked of Papa. But it is no good, not enough. I need more meat, sweet Galina, to keep up my strength. Back to Gypsy Shadow's Homepage. Sarah Deckard has been writing stories and poems since she could first string words together. She graduated summa cum laude from U.

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