Autumn 1955 – Whispers of the Seven Sisters

 

The old woman glanced right and left, narrowing her eyes. She motioned me closer. She said, “They was all born tween midnight and one on September 19th. Not a one of ’em cried. The one that’s supposed to be my niece? I was there. I smacked her bottom. She just coughed up some blood and then started breathing. Just breathing. Like I’d turned on a switch. And staring. They don’t blink more’n once every quarter hour. I set her down quick. I ain’t touched her since.”