The Scrolls of the Ancients

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"D o not tell me your name, my dear. But by what name shall we call the child? And remember, first name only, please."

The matron's voice was neither condescending nor harsh. She waited patiently, her squat, bulky frame blocking the doorway to the building behind her.

But the young mother standing before her in the rain had no ready answer. She had not given her child a name, for doing so would only further cement the bond she already felt with him and make the act she was about to perform even more impossible. Tightening her arms around his little body, she lowered her eyes in sadness and shame.

She had come here to give up her baby.

As she tried unsuccessfully to protect the squirming infant from the driving rain, she craned her neck to peer over the matron's shoulder. An inviting glow emanated from the rooms beyond, and she could hear the sounds of laughing children. The smells of warm food drifted to her nostrils, reminding her of how long it had been since she had eaten. Perhaps if she could just go inside for a moment, she might feel better about it all…

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