Bella
In that I was born a rat, there is no tragedy. "In each creature there is a breathing of Gods". So my teacher spoke. Much worse that I was born a clever rat. And that is legible of outlined life, which one is conducted by me. People, for me there is nothing interesting and unpredictable. Therefore, with the very first weeks of the existence I tried to be pulled out from a cellar in searches of fresh impressions, other than fairly frightening images of the parents. To me in general there always was a special attention. The problem was that I was born white. Completely white, sparkling, as my teacher said. Everyone in our colony was dirty gray, and I was born white. The leaders marked it at once as a tag, and my mother was shaking every time when I departed on a walk from the house. She left out, that her Bella – so I was called – is very clever and cautious. Once in front of the house a corpse of one of the oldest rats was laying, crushed by an automobile. Upon seeing the turned up, insipid muzzle with the intestines out of the stomach… mother never could get rid of obsess ional memories and phobia, that something similar can happen to somebody from her family. And on the first place in the candidate list was a
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Approximate Word count = 1998
Approximate Pages = 8 (250 words per page double spaced)
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