Difference between revisions of "Archer"
(New page: Once upon a time, there was an ugly little boy who was found wandering the streets of New York, cold and alone and badly scarred . . . It is his first memory, and he will never forget it....) |
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Once upon a time, there was an ugly little boy who was found wandering the streets of New York, cold and alone and badly scarred . . . | Once upon a time, there was an ugly little boy who was found wandering the streets of New York, cold and alone and badly scarred . . . | ||
| − | It is his first memory, and he will never forget it. He remembers being lifted onto the gurney in the back of the ambulance. He remembers the paramedic who wrapped him in a warm, scratchy blanket. He remembers the policeman's bushy mustache and rapid-fire questions: How old are you, son? Where are your parents? What's your name? What happened to your face? He remembers the policeman's frown when he can't answer any of those questions. He remembers Lady Liberty, tall and regal, lifting her bright torch over the policeman's shoulder, a beacon of warmth and shelter and hope. He remembers a relief so intense it's akin to grief. He remembers what it feels like to be found. | + | It is his first memory, and he will never forget it. He remembers being lifted onto the gurney in the back of the ambulance. He remembers the paramedic who wrapped him in a warm, scratchy blanket. He remembers the policeman's bushy mustache and rapid-fire questions: ''How old are you, son? Where are your parents? What's your name? What happened to your face?'' He remembers the policeman's frown when he can't answer any of those questions. He remembers Lady Liberty, tall and regal, lifting her bright torch over the policeman's shoulder, a beacon of warmth and shelter and hope. He remembers a relief so intense it's akin to grief. He remembers what it feels like to be found. |
Revision as of 05:13, 17 December 2008
Once upon a time, there was an ugly little boy who was found wandering the streets of New York, cold and alone and badly scarred . . .
It is his first memory, and he will never forget it. He remembers being lifted onto the gurney in the back of the ambulance. He remembers the paramedic who wrapped him in a warm, scratchy blanket. He remembers the policeman's bushy mustache and rapid-fire questions: How old are you, son? Where are your parents? What's your name? What happened to your face? He remembers the policeman's frown when he can't answer any of those questions. He remembers Lady Liberty, tall and regal, lifting her bright torch over the policeman's shoulder, a beacon of warmth and shelter and hope. He remembers a relief so intense it's akin to grief. He remembers what it feels like to be found.
