From The Widow's Web: Perhaps I should start my story by referring to the entries that I am writing in my new journal; it was a gift from Martin when he realized that it may be quite some time before we would see each other again. He always knew the right gifts to give; we had been exchanging Christmas gifts ever since we were kids. Now the reason was not Christmas, but traveling to a distant land and not knowing when or if we would see each other again. Martin was the only child that my Aunt Rita had and I was the only child born to her sister, but we really grew up treating each other as siblings more so than cousins. He was always around when I needed him and I tried to be the little sister that he would have doted on. It is going to be a long journey so I might be able to fill quite a few of these pages. And there is a lot to tell in the short period that I had just passed. Some individuals have impressionable early years; that was not the case in my youth. I was well adjusted with parents who couldn't have been kinder and more generous in their love for me if they had been created right out of the textbook. Sure they had their disagreements like any couple, but they were never major ones...at least none that I recall. My early years were not ones that left heavy marks; they were easy to live and perhaps just as easy to let go of. From Letters to Andrea: After that evening, however, there were no longer sounds of "Va Pensiero," or Massenet's "Meditation" ringing in her ears. Those beautiful sounds from her past would be replaced by the whaling sounds of small children begging in the streets and the moaning of women who were still in pain from childbirth or from butcher-style abortions that allowed them more freedom to go back on the streets to beg for their masters. Andrea had made it a policy never to refuse a begging woman, but would first determine if the individual was seeking more than enough money for food. Before Andrea could pull out a card identifying the shelter or a few rupees for the woman, she felt a hand come from behind and a damp rag covering her mouth. When she awoke she found herself strapped to a soft platform which apparently was to serve as a mattress or mat. Her hands were tied above her head and her legs were spread apart and tied at her ankles. She was blindfolded and...she had been stripped naked! Excerpted from The Stories of Andrea T. A. H. Rossi by E. M. Albano All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
