THE UNWANTED OMEN, BORN BENEATH A SCOURGED SKY— RAIN TURNED TO FLOOD, FIRE TO ASH, FRIDAY THE 13TH ETCHED INTO HER BONES. RED-HAIRED, SCORPIO-MOONED, A LEGACY WRITTEN IN BLOOD. A LIFE CURSED WITH EMPATHY, CLARITY TWISTED INTO SUFFERING. INHERITING THE GRIEF OF GHOSTS, THE PAIN OF PASSINGS, THE SORROWS THAT FESTERED BEYOND THE GRAVE.
SHE CARRIED THE WOUNDS OF THE LOST INSIDE HER OWN SKIN. TO HER FATHER SHE WAS HIS PRIDE, HIS CLEMENTINE. TO HER MOTHER, A SOUL IN NEED OF SANCTUARY. TO HERSELF— NEITHER SWEET NOR SAVED, BUT A CREATURE BOUND TO BLEED WITH EVERY SHADE THAT BRUSHED AGAINST HER. [1951 — present, lorraine viola santoire,,]
