Chapter One:
Unexpected Biology
I was born to two Scottish immigrants in the year 1953. My parents had been saving for the money for years in an effort to move to the United States, and free themselves of the life they had been living for years; a life of poverty, and barely making ends meet. Looking back now I am more than happy with the things they did so I could be born in America. After five years of working late nights, and saving all he could my father had enough to make the move. It was just in time as well because my mother was already three months pregnant, and her number one fear was that I would not be an American citizen. My mother gave birth to me in early February, and my father had just gotten a job as a car salesman. His boss said their customers loved his Scottish accent, and that he was sure he would sell him more cars than any other salesmen on the lot. My mother quickly became interested in American literature, and decided to become a librarian at our local library. We moved to a small suburban neighborhood just outside of Boston. I was born in Suffolk County right in Boston Regional Medical Center. My mother suffered from a terrible delivery that left her hospitalized for about six weeks. They were not sure if she would survive or not. The entire ordeal left my father devastated, but her only response was,
“Douglas, we fulfilled our wish. Our daughter was born an American.” My mother chose my name then not even hesitating to smile, and place a tender kiss to my forehead before telling my father what it was, “Vanna, which means God is a vow. For the middle name Leisa, meaning Devoted to God.”
“I think that fits her perfectly. Vanna Leisa MacAllister our American daughter and the answer to our prayers.” It was then that my father leant over to place first a kiss to my mother, Gillian’s forehead, and then one to mine.
My parents never had another child after me. I remember asking my mother when I was about fifteen why she never attempted to have a son for my father’s sake at least. Her reply was, “I wanted to, but Douglas wouldn’t hear of it. All he wanted was to spoil you.” I never did understand that about my father. I always figured all men wanted to have a son, but when I was about twelve years of age I found out more about why he had to get out of Scotland.
My parents were not human. In fact the race that they were had been being overhunted for so long that they had refrained from turning to their normal selves for the entirety of my lifetime. Had I not had a mishap myself I probably never would have known there was something different about me. Not different in the way of evil, but different in the way of genetics.
I remember I was eager to go to the beach with some friends, and my mother never wanted me to. It was odd considering we lived so close to the Nantucket Sound you would have figured my mother was used to beach going. Yet, somehow she always refrained from visiting the sea. Even to the point where she wouldn’t even allow seawater near her. I thought it was insanity, but it was the day before I was supposed to accompany my friends, and I was still adamant that it was not fair that I could not go with them. She had no real excuse, and I desperately wanted to go. I had argued with her for almost the entire day to the point that she had grounded me, and wanted my father to have a talk with me due to my disrespecting her. I couldn’t get over it, and I had waited eagerly for hours to have that talk. Finally he walked into the room, and with a look of perplexity he spoke to me,
“Vanna, why did you disrespect your mother today?” He asked with one hand on the doorknob, and the other resting against the frame.
“I didn’t disrespect her, dad. I just asked her why she wouldn’t let me go to the beach with Margaret, and Elisabeth. Even Mrs. Rogers asked if it was all right. Normally mom has no problem allowing me to do things with their family. Why can’t I go to the beach?” I asked him in a somber tone with tears welling in my eyes. My father sighed stepping into my room, and closing the door behind him. He came to sit on the edge of my bed, and put his right hand on my knee.
