She moaned and groaned, but did not scream.

They were a quiet people, for they lived outnumbered and apart, and their enemies were many.

A great sense of anticipation lay over the group. Mirdana had been making vague predictions about the child in her womb. Now she gnashed her filed teeth in pain, as the infant slowly made its way into the world. Labor was short, and the midwife passed the newborn to the hunter who stood waiting.

Dawn had broken, and the hunter, nude as the infant he carried, stepped into the light. He closed his eyes, but did not turn away. The baby squalled and screamed. He stood, feeling the brightness of the sun through his eyelids, and it’s heat on his skin. He would view his red peeling skin as a point of pride.

After a long time, the bell was rung, and the hunter returned with his care, handing him to Mirdana. The matriarch leaned over the child, and, pointing at a sore developing on his nose, cried “Touched! The child is touched!”

Tears rolled down the mother’s face, and the rest of the kin made quiet sounds of approval. The birth of a touched one was always an event to celebrate.

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One Response to “Genesis”

  1. Rite of Passage « Air Theremin Says:

    […] For a little context, see Genesis. Also, here are all the vamp […]

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