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Rakshana Ziath (SRI LANKA)


She was conceived where she would die. Her father, a dark and handsome traveler passing through town, caught the fancy of the flighty daughter of an innkeeper. The woman had a head full of curls and a dimpled smile. One glance at the handsome stranger whose bath she was drawing was enough to send her falling hard and fast. Call it pure instinct, an ordinance from the laws of attraction, or maybe the terrible combination of being young, bored, and attractive, but the two couldn’t tear themselves apart. They were wild and incandescent, tossing aside trite notions of shame like how they tossed aside their clothing, and found themselves in the center of the courtyard, wrapped up in each other like ribbons. Her father rolled over and laid on the grass with his head resting on her soft thigh, soaking in the afterglow of the night stars. Her mother stroked…