Each Sunday, Weekend Writing Warriors offers a selection of eight-sentence excerpts from writers in multiple genres and forms. Check out the full roster here.
Oddly enough for this body being borrowed, I’ve always fit inside its skin quite neatly. It took things with grace, or maybe it was that I had references enough to know exactly what it would do as I grew, as I aged: I would be thus-and-so tall, properly nourished; if life did not provide me with shocks in excess of what my progenitor had weathered, my hair would silver at the rate of hers.
At forty, she had silver woven into the black, like ornamental strands of silk.
At forty, my hair was glossy and black as night.
Not as large a hint as the lack of a scar, but as I think on it, I know things really did go differently for me and for my genetic original.
From the age of four or five, I knew what my adult frame would look like. No surprises there, unlike Martisset who was a random’s Random. as if to make up for her atypical coloring, the family bone structure wrote itself in hard bold lines, so that she always looked like a sketch or caricature of an Astok. Yuki used to comfort her that she’d grow into that face.
On knowing one’s future in a borrowed body. From character interviews for upcoming project,The Clone’s Complaint (NaNo 2016).