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    The Perfect Beggar
    The Perfect Beggar
    The Perfect Beggar
    Ebook113 pages1 hour

    The Perfect Beggar

    By Jack Gamboa

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Claire makes the most important decision of her life before she is even born. In a place like heaven, she trades places with a baby boy and is born to his mother and lives his childhood in his place. Claire’s choice means that she will grow up desperately poor and suffer at the hands of abusive parents.

    One day, Claire has an opportunity to escape her terrible plight and live with a kind relative in a big beautiful house, but she is haunted by her past and worries that she will never fit in with her wonderful new family. She considers running away from her new home, but has no idea where she will go.

    Desperate for help, Claire discusses the situation with the cook, who seems to have unusual wisdom. With his help, Claire finally discovers why she made the choice she did and is finally able to enjoy her growing happiness, knowing that she accomplished so much by choosing to accept her fate as the Perfect Beggar.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJust Imagine It Ink
    Release dateAug 3, 2011
    ISBN9781465856104
    The Perfect Beggar

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      Book preview

      The Perfect Beggar - Jack Gamboa

      THE PERFECT BEGGAR

      John Gamboa

      ****

      Published by:

      Just Imagine It Ink

      Copyright (c) 2011 by John Gamboa

      ****

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

      ****

      ****

      Chapter One: Floating Between Worlds

      She sits almost perfectly still by the water’s edge, looking out at the lotus flowers floating in a lake. Her silk paisley blouse rises and falls just a little bit as she breathes, her eyes glide slowly from side to side. If you looked carefully you could see the inside of her wrist reveal a faint pulse. She is perhaps the most beautiful woman in the universe and it would be very difficult for anyone to look at her for long without turning away, crying with shame, guilt or simple ecstasy.

      Behind her, some pretty females invite a young man to join their lush picnic. They pull him by the hand, they tease him, he is afraid for a moment, then he joins them. People are enjoying themselves immeasurably at this garden party, eating, speaking with each other, laughing, kissing each other. The party lasts forever and new people show up all the time.

      Some of these people have been at this banquet for so long that they have finally grown bored with social entertainment and they are becoming distracted. They turn away from the crowd and walk a short distance, looking at the lake in the mist. They have noticed the stunning flowers floating there. Wide, heavy lotus blossoms. Anchored in the mud, floating on the green water, giving up a sweet smell, radiating pale glowing colors. People are wading out into the water, looking at each lotus blossom. The moment they see these flowers they are irresistibly drawn to them.

      So the people who had enjoyed the party so much are now obsessed with the flowers. They wade and wander slowly in the water, looking curiously from one blossom to the next. These innocent people will each fall in love with a particular flower. They will each feel that the one they choose is theirs and theirs alone. They each want to touch their special flower, smell it, and get as close to it as possible. Then they actually climb into their own special lotus and they miraculously become little babies as they do this. Then the petals of the flowers gently close over the sweet little sleeping babies and the swollen blossoms disappear into forgetfulness forever. New buds instantly appear on the surface of the water and open to reveal entirely new and different flowers, just as new people arrive on the edge of the lake, having finally grown tired of so much pleasure. There is a lotus for each person who looks, and each person tries to choose the lotus that is most right for them.

      Meanwhile, the lady sitting under the tree at the edge of the lake is not like any of these other people. She stays and watches longer than all the others so that she can be careful to chose the correct flower for her divine purpose. She takes her time. She spends lifetimes looking. Eternities. She looks from flower to flower. There are so many of them, coming and going, and she waits patiently for the sign.

      Her technique is like this: She looks into the color of each flower and considers their vibrations; she perceives each distinct essence from afar, remembering things; she listens to the comments of the insects who harvest the nectar of the lotus blossoms and who have been within them all their lives. She allows her mind to rest and wander in her concentration. She is sensitive to everything but she is not focusing on any one thing. While many people have passed her on their way out to the water, she has remained perfectly still, except for her slow and measured pulse, her gentle breath and her beautiful eyes, which are ever watchful and vigilant. She does not even blink.

      After a forever of quiet waiting, the watcher rises up to get a better view. She has noticed a particular blossom. She is sure; this is the flower she has been waiting for all this time. She walks across the grass, steps into the warm pond. She keeps her gaze trained on that particular flower. Now a handsome young man has chosen the very same lotus she is looking at. He begins to climb inside it. The watcher’s eyebrows contract. Behind her the tunes of a sitar and the singing of people enjoying sex ride the warm currents of air, but she ignores them. Her wet clothing swirls in her wake like the tail of a fish. As she approaches the special lotus, she can already see the little baby inside it, falling asleep as the flower’s petals begin to wrap shut.

      The Watcher arrives and takes the lotus petals in her hands and carefully peels them away. The baby fidgets. She of mystical strength peels the petals back and pulls the flower open just as it begins to disappear. She reaches down into the lotus and scoops out the naked little boy. She kisses the baby and he begins crying. She holds the infant close to her for just a moment before she lowers the screaming and thrashing baby into a nearby lotus. The petals of that flower begin to fold over the baby, finally muffling the sound as the boy goes back to sleep and his flower silently vanishes, leaving not even a ripple on the water’s surface. Now the strange woman climbs into the lotus that she emptied, transforming herself into a little baby as she does so.

      As the lotus petals fold over her the light around her turns from yellow to orange and then it becomes pink and finally it darkens into red. The lotus begins to squeeze her. She closes her eyes and prays: Thank you, thank you, thank you… repeating these words endlessly. The flower twists and wraps itself around her, getting tighter and tighter. She feels gravity pulling the flower down under the water. The pulsing flower gets warmer and warmer and inside it she begins to have trouble breathing. She begins to feel intensely claustrophobic and she is being slowly crushed. She wonders if she will die.

      She is born.

      She is born onto a pile of rags in the darkest corner of a rotting little shack somewhere in a filthy ghetto just outside a nameless village. Gaps in the walls admit dusty light and chilly air scented with the smells of burning garbage and filth. Dogs are barking outside. The shack has no furnishings but a small table and two chairs. There is no plumbing, there are no decorations, there are not even any windows. A single lantern burns in the rafters, coating the interior with a slimy gray light which neglects many places. The tilted, rotting shelter is built of scraps of wooden boxes, signs or planks removed from old buildings, doors, cardboard and sheets of canvas. The floor is greasy dirt which has been pounded smooth by the pacing occupants. There are tin cups, empty food cans, paper litter, bottles and other trash, the occupants are very poor, too poor to know that filth breeds chaos and living in chaos just makes life harder.

      The sweaty, bleeding mother is exhausted and deep within her pain, she worries. The young woman winces and wonders how she could be worried at a moment like this. After all, she had survived delivering this damned baby! She reclines onto the dirty sheets and will not look at the baby. She does not want to nurse her own daughter. She inhales slowly and says: Please take this thing away from me.

      The midwives don’t hear her because her voice is hoarse and thin. It sounds more like the blowing and panting she had been doing all night, but quiet. The mother tries to repeat her request but gives up and stares at her newborn daughter, blinking slowly. She shuts her eyes, but she knows that when she opens them the baby will still be there. By now a new mother has usually welcomed her baby with joy and is focusing on the new arrival, speaking to the child, ignoring her own situation. The midwives looked at their despondent patient, then at each other.

      One of the midwives began to pet the broken mother’s greasy hair back from her face and she spoke with a soothing voice: Congratulations. Women just like you have risked their lives from the beginning of time, just to keep this human race on this planet, and every live birth is a miracle!

      And the survival of the mother is a miracle, as well. Said the other.

      Is it? Asked their

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