Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

She pressed the button on a small box beneath the

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Unformatted text preview: the red and white squares she could have pulled them off. It was one sheet, that thing. Shiny white refrigerator with an engine on the back of it. She knew the handle would bend just so, just by looking at it. And inside would be cold milk. Emaleth was hungry. She had drunk all of Mother's milk as Mother lay staring under the tree. She had cried and cried, and then she had gone to bathe in the water. The water was greenish and not fresh- smelling. But there had been a fountain on the edge of the grass, a fountain with a handle. Emaleth had washed better in that. The man came rushing back into the room with long pants such as Father wore and he wore. Emaleth put these on, pulling them up over her long thin legs, almost losing her balance. The zipper felt cold against her belly. The button felt cold. But they were all right. New- born, she was still a little too soft all over. Father said, "You will walk but it will be hard." These pants made a warm heavy covering. "But remember, you can do everything that you need to do." She slipped her arms...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.

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