The Karmic Mobius
by Claire Gillian
Existence is my only constant. Like a Mobius strip, I am non-orientable and never-ending.
My heartbeat slams against the walls of my temporary home and reverberates through my head. My body is bloated and uncoordinated.
Not much time remains. The integrity of my support system wanes with alacrity. The once almost infinite space closes in upon me, rejects me. If I fight my expulsion, I’ll have to begin anew, no lessons learned, no progress toward redemption.
Will I be pretty? What talents will I possess? Will I struggle or triumph? Will I be loved?
Fingers and toes splay for my inspection. I’ll at least have a fighting chance on the outside--this time. The world beyond is always the wild card.
These thoughts both provoke and entertain me. Soon they’ll be left behind in this place, sentient echoes in stasis until we are reunited. I’ll take another turn at righting past wrongs and avoiding new ones. I can only hope it will be enough, and when the hand of God cuts the strip, I’ll be on the right side.
I am pushed toward the light, toward the egress.
My heart races. I don’t want to leave. I can’t do this again! The transition rips what I was from what I will be.
My screams of agony are silent, for no air fuels them, until…
All narrows to a single point and…
I am born.