I'm a girl—I suppose you had to get that one out of the way early on, didn't you? I'll even give you some bonus information because you made that one so easy to answer.
We share a birthday. You were born with the rising sun and I with its setting. In the light of that day, the world spun half way around on its axis, hearts stopped and started, games and wars were played and lost and won. An infinitesimal amount of things occurred between your birth and mine.
In days past, the birth of a successor to a high ruler would have been heralded across the Land. Every person, from field hands to merchants to kings of foreign domains would have had news of your arrival. On the day of your birth, however, the only ones who knew you were born were within the Tower walls and were sworn to secrecy. They took an oath of silence with utmost sincerity knowing that the few who were privy to their mistress's confinement and childbirth would suffer greatly if their tongues ever loosened.
You were born into wealth on a bed framed in gold. Silken sheets caught your tiny body as it was pushed into the world. I was born into the hands of a midwife as my mother squatted on the concrete floor of a one-room shanty.
My mother cried when she saw me for the first time, a tiny baby girl with red cheeks and my father's eyes. After three sons, she finally had the daughter she'd always dreamed of. The midwife's assistant ran to fetch my father closing up his uncle's store for the night in the southern quarter.
When he heard of my birth, he left the money uncounted. He ran through the darkening streets, his heart lighter with each step. "I have a daughter," he cried. "A baby girl!" Children gaped from where they played in the dusty lots of their lean-tos. Women stepped outside to smile and wave. Men shook his hand and clapped his shoulder. They offered to buy him a pint at the tavern later that night.
I was born into poverty, but more people celebrated my life in its first hours than anyone ever has yours. It's cruel, I know. I am sorry for it, but it's the truth. In many ways, my life has been more horrible than yours, yet I pity you more than I do myself—both for your past and the fate that awaits you.
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Every Day in May (grand prize winner) ✔
Fantasi***WINNER of the "BREATHTAKING: A FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION NOVEL WRITING COMPETITION!" "You are a secret kept from the world, but not from me." So begins the peculiar message found slipped under a bedroom door on the morning of May first. Theo...
