Chapter 1

I just finished Chapter 1 of my book, but I'm not entirely thrilled. I'm pressing on with Chapter 2 but will come back to spruce it up later. For now here's a little teaser, the first few paragraphs to "17 Years Amongst Strays"......

The baby basket

I remember the day my life began. It started with a long journey, much like a trip over the Arctic from New York to Beijing with a layover in Hong Kong. I found myself being transported from place to place, getting in and out of one vehicle after another. Each segment of my journey seemed to last forever and was filled with bumps and the seesawing motion of stop and go. What little food that remained in my stomach was less than settled. My journey started in the brightness of a cold winter morning and ended under cover of an even colder night.

Before my trip I was primped and prettied, cradled and swaddled. Of course at the time I couldn’t comprehend why I was receiving such special attention so I felt as usual, scared and helpless. I was so scared in fact, that I hid my face beneath the thick pink towel that I was nestled in and allowed myself to be carried away towards my destiny. Only occasionally did I peak out to check my surroundings but from my vantage point there was never much of a view. I experienced more in the form of sounds and smells, like the smell of sweet perfume and the sound of car doors opening and closing and the engine’s continual hum accompanied by its suffocating fumes. A scattering of horns, chirping birds and the rush of cars passing by also caught my attention. But there was one sound that remained constant and captivated me most. From the voice of a young woman, a blend of Portuguese and English words swam through the air. Though I couldn’t understand what was being said, the words swirled and flowed in steady streams that at times washed away my fears.

She wore vintage-burgundy ten-hole Docs in a size five. More prominent than the sound of her footsteps was the impact, the vibration of her thick soles on the pavement despite the fact that she weighed a mere ninety-five pounds. Though it was an even thirty-two degrees outside, she wore a red plaid skirt with black stockings. Only a heavy tweed coat compensated for her unseasonable attire. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was tinted with the deepest red and she wore lipstick to match. And when she raised me up to look into my eyes, I was just five feet from the ground. The first time she did this she told me her name, Cassandra.