Innocent
A short story from the perspective of an unborn child. Pro-life message.
Can be used as a monologue, or for choral reading.
I float. I float, gently caressed by the sides of my bubble. My world is dark, my eyes have never seen light. My fingers curl upon themselves, and my feet kick outward. The only other corporeal existence in my world is the Tube. The Tube from which I receive my body’s nourishment. I need nothing more, I am content.
The Voices outside are not. There are noises, loud sounds, angry words. One Voice is a man; he is always upset. When his Voice speaks, it brings with it crashing of things outside. When the crashing starts, so does the other Voice. This one is softer, higher, easier to hear. It is a woman, she is also upset. When she yells, my world vibrates, all around; my bubble trembles. The Voices continue, always.
There are other Voices. One, another man’s, is soft and gentle. He speaks to the woman in reassuring confidence. He tells her that everything will be all right, that she can Choose to do what she wants. Every time he says that word: Choose… a hand is laid on my bubble.
This Voice comes more and more often. The woman goes to the confident man more and more. One day I hear two words: “I’m ready.” The man congratulates her, tells her again that everything will be all right. That she can Choose. No hand approaches my bubble this time, and I realize that something is different.
There are more words now. She asks “Will it hurt?” He tells her no, there is no pain at all. She sighs, I feel the sigh as my bubble rises upward, then drops back down. “I don’t know if this is right,” she says.
The man’s Voice is always calm, and always has the answer. “You decide,” he says. “You Choose whether it is right for you.”
I wait for the hand on my bubble. It does not come.
“All right,” says the woman’s Voice.
There is more talk, and I hear a decision made: “Thursday.”
Thursday. Something important will happen on Thursday…
It is Thursday.
The man’s calm Voice is back. The woman sits in a chair, which is arranged almost so that she is laying down. My bubble tilts.
The calm voice talks to her, and she responds, but she is afraid. She is tense, and I feel her anxiety. Why is she afraid? The angry Voice is gone, the world is stable.
As the calm voice continues, something changes. My bubble changes. I don’t know exactly what happens, but I move. I move toward one side of my bubble.
I realize what is happening. And I begin to enjoy the movement. I drift through, lazily, until I bump into something. Then I start to hurt. Something is pressing in on all sides of me, and squishing my body. I don’t know what to think of it.
The woman’s Voice screams. The calm man’s voice lied. It does hurt.
As I continue to move, my head continues to be squished. It confuses me. Why is this happening? I’m not ready yet.
Then, I feel something on my head. A cold touch dashes it, just a speck. I think it is air. Air touches my head. I have a touch of outside my bubble, and I become excited. I will be able to see the world, I can see the Voices who talk so often, and the…
A sharp pain explodes in the back of my head. Something has just been shoved deep into my skull, and I don’t understand why.
The man’s calm voice continues, the woman’s Voice screams again, but the noises start to swim. I can’t hear it clearly anymore, but I feel myself trying to scream. The pain in my head is unbearable, and I don’t know why it’s happening. What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this?
And then I know. I happened. The woman’s voice, which was a comfort, didn’t want me.
I was not supposed to exist.
As the pain lessens, and my bubble stops existing, I send a silent word of sorrow.
“I forgive you, mother.”
Then all is gone.