History (and other such fictions) – Act III, Scene III


The Promised Prince

Lily rubbed at Gael’s feet again though it never seemed to help. They remained stubbornly blue. The pediatrician told her not to worry about it; this was common in newborns and should clear up on its own within a few months. Still, it troubled her. The child also had a heart murmur, but at least you couldn’t see that.

Why couldn’t this one have been the perfect one? Of the three live children she had born thus far, the first had a weird-looking eyeball, and this one had weird-looking feet. Only the middle girl had no outwardly discernible flaws–unless you counted the lack of a penis.

She gave up rubbing the boy’s feet and looked up at herself in the mirrored dresser. Back-to-back pregnancies had taken a toll on her petite figure. She was decidedly more… voluptuous… than she’d ever been. She’d stopped bleaching her hair and allowed it to return to its original black-brown color. Her nails were short and natural. Who had time for all that grooming with three scrawling brats underfoot all the time?

On the plus side, she still had a well-defined waist. Her hair was as long and thick as ever, and the natural look of it suited the aesthetic of the 70’s, as did her unpainted fingernails.

She looked down at the baby asleep on the bed before her. Her gaze traveled to his feet, and she began rubbing them once more.


Lay it on me.

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