Have you ever heard of Eleanor the Tenth? Or maybe Eleanor X? Perhaps there never was one in classical history. But there is one in the making. Here she is. Adored by all. Born on her mother’s favorite number 8-8. Given her name Storm right from her father’s childhood dreams. Sliding into the light of the world before she could be caught. Closed the womb and dried the breasts with her birth. Tiny. Loud. Incredibly strong. A perfect rascally grin. Hair as dark as a new moon and toes like a monkey. Born the tenth in a culture where two are approved and three are acceptable. Full of promise as her older siblings. Walk your own trail Eleanor, make your own space, there is always room for you. You are one of us, yet your own person.
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