Sisi had the sudden
compulsion to speak with a child, and she didn't hesitate when she
sighted a boy that strutted in front of her home. She introduced
herself, and the child was frozen in place as he witnessed her speak
in tongues, which was normal for her insane self.
With the power of the
Simcronomicon fused in her being, Sisi tasted the essence of soul.
The boy's name was Marcus Matson, age 6.
It was said that music was
the essence of soul. Marcus possessed the lilt of a singer and the
confidence of a music hall artist. The child spoke of his CD
collections, a bequethal from his father, passed down from legacy to
legacy. As the minutes went by, Marcus said his goodbye to Sisi, and
when Sisi returned home, she wrote down the name of the boy inside
her book of life thus sealing the child to her ritual.
Three days later, Sisi
felt something move inside her stomach. She wasn't hallucinating.
Something was poking against her stomach. Sisi ran to the bathroom
and tossed her grilled cheese from last night. It shouldn't surprise
her at all, but the sensation of carrying something—a someone—irked
her.
She opened her medicine
cabinet and took out a stick for a pregnancy test. Minutes go by, and
the test proved positive. She was eating for two.
Thrilled was not exactly
the emotion she was experiencing. Rather, it was sadness. There was a
tinge of joy since she was becoming mother, but in the end, the
ritual was first. Always.
As a reasonable and
respectable sim, Sisi called the father to tell him the news. He hung
up as soon as she said the word. Believing that Cayden had left town
and flew to the Simsahara Desert, Sisi sat down and thought the world
as a cruel and lonely place. She was not exempt from this picture.
A knock on the door jolted
her from that melancholy place, a place she was familiar with. She
opened the door and was greeted by the shine of Cayden's pearly
whites. He asked to feel the baby, asked when she was due. He asked
what they would name the baby, asked if they would live together.
That melancholy place
opened its doors to Sisi, beckoning her to come inside with promises
of free milk chocolate flavored with morose. But she held her ground,
and struggled to keep her smile. As the celebration of a soon-to-be
father came to an end, Cayden begged Sisi to call him as soon as she
was due.
Sisi closed the door as
Cayden left. She touched her belly, rubbed it and patted it. A tear
fell down from her chin to her navel.
When the time came to
deliver the baby, Sisi didn't call Cayden. It was best to have the
child and move it out in one quick motion.
Some describe childbirth
as a magical process. In another reality, it is the stuff of horrors
and nightmares that has screams, blood, knives and hooded beings. But
this was another reality, a good and magical reality. There were
screams, but there were no blood. Sisi held her tummy and, with one
push, she gave birth to her child, a healthy baby girl.
She held the child in her
arms, cooed at her and kissed her. What should she name her? And
would Cayden like it? Sisi sifted through a list of names: Bo-Beep,
Flim-Flarn, Habanube, Steve, Batman. She hit her head with her palm
and snapped out of her insanity.
Isabel. A girls name.
Wasn't it? After searching through the internet, Isabel is confirmed
a girl's name.
She wanted to keep her,
but the voice in her head, a third voice, a voice that was not her
insane self, told her not to. The strong compulsion to leave the
child outside her home was overwhelming, yet promise of immortality
overpowered her. Sisi prayed to her deity. The child was taken
away.
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