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A new story, part 1 - The house that Fleur built [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Fleur Susannah

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A new story, part 1 [Apr. 9th, 2007|09:09 pm]
Fleur Susannah
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[mood |chipperchipper]




My mother always said that I was her monkey baby. It has become the stuff of legends; Mala, the baby with the monkey grip, who clung to her mother with tiny hands and feet, silently watching the world.

My mother, Deira, returned to work, directing and stage managing theatre productions three weeks after I was born. No one expected this because her pregnancy was horrific. She was crippled with nausea and constantly exhausted from the weight growing inside her. Deira was a tiny woman and, even at 9 months pregnant, she weighed little more then 50 kilos. The birth itself was similarly dramatic. I was loathed to leave her womb and protested fiercely until, 11 days after I was expected, they cut into her swollen body and drew me, kicking and screaming, into a loving world. But despite the violence of my birth, Deira’s recovery seemed almost instantaneous and so, three-weeks after my birth, I, the monkey baby, was clinging to her clothes as she directed Michael Gow’s Away.

Deira was only twenty-one when I was born but she never felt that I stole her youth. I was planned although the men she was sleeping with at the time knew nothing of ‘the plan’. You see, I was her second pregnancy. When she was eighteen she had accidentally conceived but miscarried two months in. She was devastated. She had accepted her role as a mother the instant she learnt of her state and it tore her apart to relinquish the baby she had began preparing for. It took her several years to become pregnant again, not for a lack of trying but, in her own words, ‘it took me that long to find men stupid enough not to ask if I was on the pill. I would always be truthful if they asked!’ When I reached a certain age and Deira discovered that she was suddenly the mother of an attractive girl with breasts, she suddenly began inserting bias into her stories of my conception. Overnight, it seemed, she started to shake her head and chide her past-self, adding contrived passages such as ‘I still can’t believe I didn’t contract some sort of disease!’ or ‘Boys do have a right to know what is happening with their sperm!’ into a once triumphant story. However, I know that she did not regret her actions in the slightest. They gave her me and I am the world to her.

After several years of never finding a man trusting enough to unwittingly impregnate her, Deira suddenly found an abundance of them. I never called any man ‘father’ but I knew from an early age that there were three potential candidates for this role. I know that in the first months of my life the idea was raised of getting some sort of test to decide who should claim the title but Deira fiercely objected saying that, as they thought themselves old enough to have unprotected sex, they were old enough to play at father to a baby that possibly was not theirs. I think there was more to her argument then this but I have only heard it from the male perspective. To me, my mother simply says ‘it’s your choice, not theirs. If you want to know who your father is, then get the test but that will reduce the family by two!’ With this threat hanging over me, I still today refuse to be tested.

The first potential father is Rohan. He was a talented young photojournalist at the time of my conception. His response to the sudden acquisition of a baby daughter was the most vehement but I still think that all three men handled the news incredibly well. My mother invited the trio out to lunch and, in a busy café in Fitzroy uttered the memorable if wordy sentence “I’m pregnant and one of you is the father so you had better learn to like eachother.” Rohan’s response was equally memorable: a loud “Fuck!” is said to have come from his mouth followed shortly by “How the fuck did you let that happen!” When their initial responses had died away Deira went on to say that she had wanted the baby and that she thanked whoever the father was for giving it to her. “I don’t care which one of you it is because I think all three of you are amazing. My baby is going to be incredible and I am so happy!” she declared, eyes glittering with a passion usually reserved for theatre rehearsals. As far as I can work out, this proclamation quelled the first round of protests from the trio and they all kissed her and, to show what incredibly good sports they were, congratulated her and each other, shook hands and Rohan got the bill. I think this was because he was the only one of my quartet of parents who had any disposable income at this time.




Something nasty in the wood shed says:
This is the first bit of the story whose character I said you wouldn't like.

Simma says:
ok i read it, why was i not going to like it?

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
You don't mind the mother?

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
I thought the whole, trying to get herself pregnant without the guys knowing would have made you dislike her.

Simma says:
Its a strong character, i would not be able to let it go without issue but thats my choice

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
And here was I typing away going 'hehe, Simon will hate this one!'

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
My evil genius is thwarted again.

Simma says:
lol sorry

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
That's okay. I'll just have to try harder next time.
Make her go on a penis collecting rampage or something.

Simma says:
lol that would be hi-larious

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
Not really in keeping with the style of the piece to date but I'll see if I can slot it in.

Simma says:
oh god, contemporary drama about a womans quest for identity and a brief chapter in which there is mass murder and penile theft

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
On a completely different note, today I cleaned my room using a wooden peg, a ribbon and a broken radio antenna.

Something nasty in the wood shed says:
And my god that story is so much better if left at the first sentence.

Simma says:
lol thats seven kinds of odd
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: deird1
2007-04-09 09:41 pm (UTC)
What happens next?!

Very intriguing story...
(Reply) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: reulf
2007-04-09 11:45 pm (UTC)
Thankyou. :) There is more to post. I try to do these things in short segments so people don't get too bored.
(Reply) (Parent) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: ikona_rakasha
2007-04-10 07:10 am (UTC)
more...more...more
(Reply) (Thread)