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Uno and the witch's mark.

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Unorthodox:
This is going to be a series of longish posts.  Not fiction, mind you.  But more story ish than standard OT stuff, so I'll start here and leave for BU to decide where to stick it.  Unlike many threads in here, though, discussion in the middle is fine and encouraged.  I'll mostly be sticking to the story.  I don't know with my new schedule how often I'll be able to get in here to do this. 

Buster's Uncle:
;b;

Syn:
I don't know what this is but I'll be around.

Unorthodox:
This isn't something I speak of.  Practically ever. 

To understand, you need to know the environment in which I was born. 

Mom was at one time a bra burning hippy, but by the time I'd come along had dove head first into becoming the perfect Mormon (LDS) housewife.  Dad, on the other hand, was decidedly NOT interested in the religion. 

At the time of my birth, he was attempting to work as a brakeman on the Southern Pacific Railroad.  However, this work was managed on a seniority list, and he was often laid off during the slow times, during which he'd work construction.  He smoked and drank, both to excess. 

They had moved into a starter home on a VA lone and were struggling to make payments when I was born. 

My brothers and I...none of us are 'right'.

My older brother is a more traditional freak.  He come out with 11 fingers.  They surgically fused the spare thumb as a baby, and he's got this horrid hook for a thumb on his right hand as a result. 

My younger brother, well, I can't decidedly say he inherited mom's full madness naturally or if it's the result of being dropped on his head as a child. (yes really)   

I was just wrong. 

BU has a cast of my face and has undoubtedly noticed the large mole over my right eye.  That would be enough to have strung me up as a witch back in the day.  These are fairly normal along my mom's lineage.  Mom had some, her dad, and so on.  I have several more various locations.  I could have them removed, but choose not to.  It is also, however, only the beginning on me. 

The witch's mark covered the upper left quarter of my back.  Oval in shape.  Black as night.  Over the scapula (shoulder blade) was a raised section that was unnaturally soft.  The outer area had this thick black hair, similar in courseness to a beard.  The raised section, however, had what can only be described as a very soft fur that was a light brown.  In all, it looked something akin to a bulls-eye. 

I was also born sickly. 

Of note to the time period shortly after birth is my asthma. 

Mom, in her way, decided to use this as a weapon against dad.  His first counter-attack was to follow his railroad job to California.  His home visits would be marked with intense fighting about the cigarettes and my health.

Money, my health, and if he'd just become more LDS things would get better.   

These fights would be the first time I'd hear about the devil's mark I bore.  I didn't understand much back then, but later would realize. 

See, while it's not something commonly taught or even referenced in the LDS faith these days, back then, such things were considered a curse from God along with any minority groups. 

Thus I was at fault for these fights.  I was a curse for them not living the gospel to it's fullest. 

Tomorrow, age 5-8ish

Buster's Uncle:
I removed the mole for The Captain.

My buncle powers are tingling that I'm going to be crying within a few posts...

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