Residue
The laughter of children is a painful sound. She doesn't have to stare out the window to see the girls giggling and playing on the playground, nor does she have to be near them to see or feel their emotions.
A teddy bear is the only thing she has to hold onto. It's solid; it's real; -not like the fleeting, whimsical nature of human hearts. It doesn't give her the pounding, endless drone of hate, or those other petty little things that humans are apt to feel.
It makes her wonder about the drones and hums of her own heart; but when she holds the silent teddy bear close to her heart, the quiet is so loud, she almost believes that she's not really there.
Instead, each deafening piece of emotion embeds into her soul, until it is hard and brittle. The laughter of children; -one more crack and her soul is gone.
She has a heart-with what else can she read others' hearts? -when really all she wants is to rip out her own heart in defiance to the world.
--
The social worker doesn't hold her hand when he takes her to the very tall, very white building. "Anna," he says very slowly, very clearly, "your parents are gone. Do you understand? They're not coming back."
Of course she understands, that dimwit. She can feel his exasperation and fear, and this fuels her rage. Her fists close around her rosary, the only thing she has from the past. She does not notice the residue of ghosts gathering around her.
"This is where you'll stay from now. Until you have new parents." He smiles down on her. It is not a nice smile. He hands her a bear. "This will be your friend."
She takes it wordlessly and strides confidently in, as trail of ghost dust behind her.
--
She refuses talk to them, those silly stupid things. Asking stupid silly questions like, "Who are you?" "Why is your hair yellow?" "Do you talk?" and her personal favorite, "Are you a freak or something?"
It confuses the nuns (she still can't understand why people think that nuns are so holy), and they try to "make friends" with her, but she can see through their intentions. (It would've been easier, if she couldn't hear them. Maybe then, things would've been different.)
But Anna is not the type to think such things. No regrets, she thinks to herself in a fierce mantra. No regrets.
The appearance of the old lady impresses her. She watches her warily though and listens closely to her conversation with the nun.
"...she's such a strange child...yes...yes...well...you see..." Then a hushed whisper, but Anna knows what she's referring to. "She thinks she can see ghosts."
--
One of the girls had made an indiscreet comment to her a week before, and before she knew it, the girl was sprawled on the floor, blood streaming from her nose. The girl began to scream and cry and thrash about. Only when she was lifted off the floor by the ghosts was she finally silent, but it was an awful kind of silent-Anna could feel the fear flooding from the girl and the other girls into her own heart. Anna had collapsed too from the next wave of emotions-only then did the ghosts disappear.
One of the nuns had rushed forward, amidst the cacophony of cries. A dozen girls had clung to her in clear distress. "Anna...lifted from the ground...ghosts...I'm scared...Sister..."
Anna didn't wait for the nun to pick her up. She stood, a little shaky, by her own will. "Anna!" the Sister cried. "Did you do this?"
Anna's fists clenched. She said, distinctly, "There were ghosts Sister."
The nun lips turned into a tight thin line. She approached Anna and slapped her, the impact on skin making a mark on Anna's cheek. The nun began to scream at her, but it was too late. The ghosts had reappeared. Anna concentrated, and the ghosts surrounded her in a tight shell. She couldn't hear anything, only watched in amusement the movement of the nun's mouth. If only she could harness this power, she thought, and imagined the slow death of all the girls and nuns. If only.
--
"Where is she? Let me see her." The old lady doesn't even wait for the nun to show her where she is. She turns and spots her. "That girl."
"Yes..." The nun is nervous, and this annoys Anna. The old lady is annoyed too, and Anna's not sure whether or not to feel hatred or relief.
The old lady approaches her confidently. "Are you Anna?"
Anna braces herself and the shell collects around her, prepared to feel the rush of emotions that surrounds her when around someone new.
"How old are you Anna?"
All she feels is calm. Confidence. Anticipation. Some anxiety. No fear. Acceptance. She opens her eyes. "I'm four."
"Anna, do you see ghosts?"
Anna hears the nun gasp and mutter something under breath, while clutching her rosary in a nervous gesture. Stupid woman. "Yes," she says, clearly.
"Would you like to come live with me Anna?"
Anna looks at the old woman warily again. "If you kill her," she says quite seriously, motioning to the nun. "I will think about it."
The nun makes another strangled sound from her throat, but the old woman laughs loudly, a harsh, bitter sound. "I can't get rid of all your problems, Anna." She smiles down at her, and Anna wonders briefly how she is able to do that-the old lady is only a little bit taller than she is. "Besides, you are coming to live with me. I need an apprentice. You can see ghosts?" Anna nodded. "Then you'll do." The old woman studies her. "My name is Kino. You may call me Grandmother."
Anna doesn't reply.
--
She leaves, an hour later, with Grandmother Kino. She doesn't have anything with her. The teddy bear is left behind, buried somewhere in the sand.
Kino hands her a necklace of beads. Anna's lips curl in disgust, but Kino doesn't care. "Take it. You'll need it for your training."
So she does. She drapes it around her neck, but it drags on the floor. Kino laughs again. "Here." She wraps it twice around her neck. "There."
Anna doesn't say thank you, but she suspects that Kino doesn't expect her to anyway. "Grandmother Kino?" she says, very softly.
"Speak up," Kino barks. "I'm old."
"What am I?"
Kino doesn't say anything for awhile. Then, "You're a shaman Anna."
"Are you a shaman?"
"I'm an itako. You'll be an itako too."
Anna accepts this without question. "Grandmother Kino, I can read hearts." If Kino is surprised she doesn't show it. Anna has anticipated this. "I don't want to."
"Anna, there're a lot of things in the world we don't want. You can't base your world on wants Anna. The only things in the world are the things that were, things that are, and things that will be. As shamans, we deal with all three."
Kino is looking ahead, and her eyes are distant, far away. Anna doesn't interrupt her thoughts.
"But who knows, Anna. You might get your wish someday."
They board the train, and Anna doesn't talk again. She sits next to the window, but doesn't watch the tall orphanage fade away. She wonders briefly what would happen to the bear, but the thought is fleeting, and before she thinks again, it's gone.
/end
Notes: Written for 20 themes, this one being #8 following (in this case, following Kino.)