Accidental Mishap

Experiment 1: The unpredictable soul conveyer mishap of a misfit mischievous. 




It all began, a time long gone. The witching hour eery, at 2.22 am to be preciously precise. The year, 1979. The 70’s dwindling to a close, with the uprise of the new dawn, breaking in about 9 months, a time so profound, only that no one really knew yet what lay awake in the blissful eve before. But, the truth was sealed tightly behind a mouth tiny, which, well clearly was designed to at present, wail unceremonious noise. Speech, was an alien. The irony, if only they knew. 

Unlike the other bundles, of wrapped itchy cottoned cocoons, simply put, I was alone, in an incubator, frighteningly confining, even for my deliberately small self. Occasional bleeping, yanking slumber from my bleary peep holes. Later, I was to uncover, these magnificent magical wonders were my eyes watchful. For now though, I was ridicolously blind, a joke failing miserably because all I wanted was to see. However, like a rocket ready to take off, I willingly drift into another dream unashamedly excited. 

Amongst, noises of various delicacies, unable to drown out the hungry pant of a stranger slowly becoming familiar. I wait.  

“Still 3 lbs, 0 ounces. Poor lamb, let me clean her up. With this mess, she must be uncomfortable.”

Unable to the hear the reply as I am disappointingly distracted by the rude awakening of cold biting, my naked flesh brutally stung. I let out, a mighty roar. Well, perception convinces me so. Sadly though, it’s more whimper than a fierce call of a lioness because the cooing soft, reaches a level new. I can’t recall, the ordeal ending. I do however, know that I felt joy flutter inside her. The feeling a warm, soft glow lighting a gentle flame somewhere unnamed. Again, I succumb to intoxicating sleep. 

Radio broadcast: 30th March 1979 

A rusty old voice crackles. 

A depression trickles slowly northwards across the UK, covering over 30cm of snow over the West Midlands. Further disruption causing chaos as snow hits the Northumberland and Durham. It continues to forecefully attack parts of Scotland, with an impressive 15cm falling in Fife in only four hours.

Sea surface temperatures reach their lowest level in March, whereas, the frequency of northerly and easterly winds is higher in March causing an influx of bitterly cold air. Our current run of wintry March weather is the result of cold seas and even colder air from the east.

So, we may take some comfort in the knowledge that less cold conditions are expected to return towards the end of next week.

Intently, I process all, without much awareness of its importance. My little limbs, coding the messages as I lay here alone. Unwanted, I guess. Yet, unable to detach myself from the emotional world beyond myself. My DNA, eagerly responding to the magical song of this voiceless treasure, I collect.  

“You’re a special one, little Annie. You really are. One day, you will know. Goodnight precious, until the next time.” 

Then, one day, she stops visiting. The abrupt suddenness a blatant slap. Frosty coldness bleeding into my veins. The violent ache in my heart, shattering it bit by bit. My heart breaks, over and over again. Thudding so intense, my insides burn ferociously. Waves of pain, stinging places, I not by name. I bleed out agony, without even knowing its truth. The anguish of my first heart break, choking under silent cries. I knew, she no longer would visit. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want too, she no longer was to do so. My desire to know why, soaked up in an ocean, dragging me to a weary shore. I sleep endlessly for the moments that follow. No one again, told me I was special. 

I was the unexpected soul, arriving at a time unfit for new souls. Somehow, I had broken the soul conveyer. Jumping the queue with some determination wild. My resolve undeterred. Thus, here I was. The cost, indeed pricey. My debt awaiting lustful payment. My adventure eager, keen to collect its surprising due. So it did. My soul exchanged for that of my gentle familiar stranger. The price paid without warning much. Yet, unaware of the many prices, along the way, I had to still pay. Alone in a world distrustful, I was the unwanted misfit. If only, I had understood this sooner. Unfortunately, I wasn’t one for lessons easy. So here; on this bitter icy day in England, I was hand delivered to I suppose, my parents, whose shame, stings everyday since this one. 

I shrink into my oversized prison uniform and stifle a yawn bored. 

The beginning unfolding, eventually. 




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