I stand here today holding the hands of the dead.
How I was given voice I cannot say. The unborn chose me to speak because I alone among us, the unbirthed, have grown. Untamed by the shackles of statuary and gravestones, my spirit roamed free above the Hudson River for the first sixteen years of my unlife. Truly unwanted, as they say, my parents did not get to bury me...
Read the full story at Write Wild . . .
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About the Author
Holly Lyn Walrath is a freelance editor and author of poetry, flash fiction, and short fiction. Find her on Twitter @HollyLynWalrath
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