A southern teenage girl finds out how the love from her dad can feel so much like hatred. On a search for love, she winds up with worse, and without an escape, ends up in a cold conception and a dark
April 30, 2006 (Press Release) --
A preview of one gripping page of Colored Lily.
The first time he touched me, I don’t remember, but it was when I was in the middle of the rug on the floor in between my momma’s legs. There was a lady there pulling me out of her while poppa stood over us and watched. Momma was
screaming and groaning pushing me out. That’s when the lady trying to pull me out of momma had to hurry up and take that cord from around my neck before I died all the way. I still don’t know who that lady was. She died soon after I was born I was told.
Poppa then went to put his body up under momma’s head to make her relax a little bit more. She’d already passed out one time, and he didn’t want her to do it again, I suppose. I would’ve probably died for sure if she’d had to done that with the cord being wrapped around my throat.
When I came all the way out, legs and all, the lady wiped me off and handed me over to poppa so she could tend to momma. He held me up to his nose and smelled me. Held me up to his lips, kissed me. Then, he tapped my back side.
He believed that the first beating you give a baby lasts the longest, and the baby
will somehow always remember that beating even though it was one tap and not meant to hurt too bad but only hurt enough though…just enough to make it cry. It’s this beating that will keep the baby on the path you want it on. It’s the beating for being born, and it’ll keep you out of the bad path as long as you don’t raise up at
the person who gives it to you. That’s what poppa knew. That’s what he still believes. Guess that’s why it was hard for me to stray his way.
Momma knew different. She prayed. She still prays to the Lord, not believing in fairies nor their tales. I didn’t know whose side to take being that I was just getting here. I listened to both…what momma said and what daddy said. Of course, all of that stuff about my near dying at my birth, I don’t remember any of it, but I know it’s the truth. Momma and poppa. . . both of them told me. It was the same story, and
since the stories werethe same, I couldn’t pick out the liar. Now that I think about it, I probably didn’t know there could be one living in my momma or my poppa. But when I got older, I found out where liar was, and he had a few friends to come along with him. They were all living in my poppa. From then on, momma was always the truth. God first. Not the fairies and their tales. Only thing is, I couldn’t break free from the fairies and the tales of my poppa because seems like his love taps turned into his hands hurting me all over…ever since he lied and started calling me woman in his eyes.
The first time he touched me, I don’t remember, but it was when I was in the middle of the rug on the floor in between my momma’s legs. There was a lady there pulling me out of her while poppa stood over us and watched. Momma was
screaming and groaning pushing me out. That’s when the lady trying to pull me out of momma had to hurry up and take that cord from around my neck before I died all the way. I still don’t know who that lady was. She died soon after I was born I was told.
Poppa then went to put his body up under momma’s head to make her relax a little bit more. She’d already passed out one time, and he didn’t want her to do it again, I suppose. I would’ve probably died for sure if she’d had to done that with the cord being wrapped around my throat.
When I came all the way out, legs and all, the lady wiped me off and handed me over to poppa so she could tend to momma. He held me up to his nose and smelled me. Held me up to his lips, kissed me. Then, he tapped my back side.
He believed that the first beating you give a baby lasts the longest, and the baby
will somehow always remember that beating even though it was one tap and not meant to hurt too bad but only hurt enough though…just enough to make it cry. It’s this beating that will keep the baby on the path you want it on. It’s the beating for being born, and it’ll keep you out of the bad path as long as you don’t raise up at
the person who gives it to you. That’s what poppa knew. That’s what he still believes. Guess that’s why it was hard for me to stray his way.
Momma knew different. She prayed. She still prays to the Lord, not believing in fairies nor their tales. I didn’t know whose side to take being that I was just getting here. I listened to both…what momma said and what daddy said. Of course, all of that stuff about my near dying at my birth, I don’t remember any of it, but I know it’s the truth. Momma and poppa. . . both of them told me. It was the same story, and
since the stories werethe same, I couldn’t pick out the liar. Now that I think about it, I probably didn’t know there could be one living in my momma or my poppa. But when I got older, I found out where liar was, and he had a few friends to come along with him. They were all living in my poppa. From then on, momma was always the truth. God first. Not the fairies and their tales. Only thing is, I couldn’t break free from the fairies and the tales of my poppa because seems like his love taps turned into his hands hurting me all over…ever since he lied and started calling me woman in his eyes.
Email
Print
SPAM
