Willamena

Willamena Webbs was born almost seven years ago, on a cool, crisp night on the last day in October.  Her parents were so proud of their one and only daughter.  She was everything they expected her to be.

            Well, almost.

On that memorable night, Willamena’s parents and her grandmother held her up to their ears to hear something very strange coming from her chest.  It was only a soft noise, but alarmed them all the same.

            “It can not be,” her mother Velma whispered. 

            “It is some sort of farce for sure!” her father William said.

            “What? You need a scarf?” Grandma yelled (she was little hard of hearing).

            But it was no farce...or a scarf.  For on that fateful night, their small daughter Willamena was born with something that her family was quite unfamiliar with.

            A small, but fluttering heart beat.

***

            Willamena was six years old, three hundred sixty days, and fifty-nine minutes old.  She was sitting with her beloved pet under the old weeping willow tree by where she lived.   The crickets had been singing for quite some time and she knew it would be time to come in as her mother would finally be up to help with her homework.

            “Willamena!” her father called from the window.  “Come in now!”

            “Let’s go.” she said, scooping up her bunny.  Willamena walked up the stairs to her house and she sighed.  Pausing a moment, she gazed up above her.  The moon shone large and bright above, reminding her that it was very, very true indeed. She was very, very different.

            How was she different you ask? Well let me start at the beginning...