Born to Trouble



And it begins like this, with a panicked gasp for stale air not needed, a scream that whimpers its way into despair as the utter darkness brightens to show limits, and a desperate surge of scrabble and smash that breaks through, not to space, not to safety, but to earth, crumbling and dry, dusty and musty, filling and spilling into hair and eyes, nose and mouth –

And if the new life started badly, it doesn’t improve. A girl, a mocking voice, a sharp stake plunging down and you’re starting over. Again.

Third time lucky?

That would be nice, wouldn’t it?


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