Friday, 29 March 2013

Flash Fiction Friday #4

Monkey Tail

The day I was born was filled with surprises.

Firstly, my parents were expecting to have a baby boy, and this mistake may have been caused by surprise number two; I was born with a tail. It wasn't the kind of tail you might expect - all pink and useless and misshapen - on the contrary, my tail was glorious even then. It was a long and slender thing, covered in beautiful chestnut brown fur. It tapered off into an elegant point which was as white as freshly fallen snow. I swirled it around like a master before I had even managed to squawk out my first cry.

My parents and doctors had planned to remove my tail when I was very young. The doctors assured them that I would be far too young to remember that I ever even had a tail, and my parents didn't want to have child with a mutation, so they agreed. When they eventually found out that it couldn't possibly be removed without paralysing me from the waist down they wept for days.

I very quickly learnt that my tail was an extremely versatile tool indeed and we soon became the very best of friends. As I grew older I insisted on doing absolutely everything with it and annoyed my poor parents immensely. I completely refused to use my hands at meal times and would grip my food with my tail instead, and nothing was out of reach once I had learnt to use it as a climbing tool. My parents often found that I had freed myself from my playpen walls and I could scale the kitchen cupboards as easily as crawling.

When I started school and learnt to write my name with my tail, my teachers disappeared, but my handwriting was the best in the year so no complaints could be made. Some of the other children could be mean; pinching my tail when I wasn't looking and pulling on it as I walked past in the halls, but mostly people were fascinated by it, or jealous. I made many, many friends in those first few weeks and we tore around the school as if we owned it.

*** To be continued.... ***

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