Prologue
Darkness- enveloping the small, tiny mind trapped inside the warm, comforting prison in which it was created. It made the mind feel safe, and secure. The Mind didn't want to leave where it was; wherever it was. Its disposition towards the environment around it was quite satisfied. Though suddenly, it felt the support beneath give away; and there was no escaping what was to come, no matter which way it thought. With a blast of harsh white light, the Mind came into this world. With the light, omnipotent in its persistence, came a pain, and the Mind screamed with its entire will- thrashing and swinging wildly in the cold, still air. Almost as soon as the freezing winds had come, a kind, benevolent hand wrapped it in a comfortable sheath, calming the wind, making it feel like a warm summer day. As if the Mind was staring into the sun, taking in its warmth, altogether blocking out the harshness of the glare. It felt movement through the air. As it moved, a face came into view. The Mind could not quite make it out, but as the person touched the Mind, it felt calm. It felt safe, and secure. Feeling around, trying to grip some viable surface, the Mind concluded with physical process of elimination, that it was a woman who was holding it. It didn't know how or why it was a woman, but that was the word that came to it. Woman. As the Mind lay in the woman's chest, it heard something. A beat, a rhythm. This beat, this rhythm, was a pulsating loveliness. Each time it came, and subsequently went, it soothed the Mind into a beloved trance. The Mind could make out the woman's face now; it could make out everyone's face. Their faces were all blank, muddy. The Mind looked around, searching. Perched on the window sill behind the woman, sat a bird man. The Mind did not know what the man was, or what it wanted. The only things the Mind could conclude were the bright red gems, glinting and sparkling in their glorious thrones upon its slender head, it had for daring, darting eyes. The bird man spoke, its voice booming across the room like a shockwave. The people in the room dissipated, and the room itself, disappeared into oblivion. The bird man and the Mind lay in the same room made of a grey and dingy substance. It was sticky, and the mind felt as if it was in a bubble made of clay. He spoke, and with it sounded as if a million voices were speaking behind it,
"You, you are a being made of me, my little creation."
The Mind looked at the bird man, confused. He mused further,
"Do not exhaust yourself tiny, tiny one. I am sending you into this cruel world because I can. I own this place, and even though not everyone seems to think so, in the end... everyone comes to me."
His mouth was decorated savagely with lines of pointy, needle, razor sharp teeth. His smile was horrific.
"Eventually."
The sullen cave suddenly transformed into a vast night sky, as black and sundering as his coat of feathers.
The bird man Stretched his wings high into night and as he flew high into the pitch-dark chasm, an unending blackness following its cragged path. Inside the bird man's wings, the Mind could see thousands of faces, thousands of people, all tucked under his razor sharp sight.
"You are my child, I give you life. Do with it what you want, but know one thing,"
The mind searched the sky for its new-found creator, but only captured the cruel and violent sound that hammered down from the unending broad expanse of stars,
"You are capable of me."
To no end did the child unsettle her. Who in their right mind, would drop—what looked like, a four month old infant on anyone's front door step? Mind-boggled and confused, Brenda shuffled over to her kitchen window with the child in her arms, and peered through the stained glass window. Her husband, Jeff, was pulling in the drive way. Blinking away the curiosity, she surprised herself with the obvious. She pulled herself together, ushering to their bedroom, she placed the child slowly down on the bed, and hushed it to sleep. She jogged to the foyer of her Victorian-styled home, and observed her husband walking in the front door, looking oddly fresh, and reborn. She eased him in, took off his jacket, and placed it loosely on a metal-wire hanger in the coat closet.
"I'm glad you're home," Brenda gave Jeff A giant hug, and looked him in the eye to determine his mood, "You must be starving."
He nodded exactly, and went with his wife to the large, old-styled kitchen. She turned to her husband and leaned against the shiny hard-wood counter top "I already ate, I made Roast beef, with mashed potatoes and fresh biscuits," She paused while getting it out of the refrigerator. "I hope that's enough?"
Her husband smiled dozily, and chucked softly, "Of course it's ok. I'm lucky to have all the things you do, and I don't want you thinking it's ever not good enough."
She put the dish in the oven to heat it, and sat down at the round, oak table her husband was sitting squarely in. She grabbed his hand, and nodded her head as if to ask a silent question. In Jeff's work bag, a white book with a stark cover laid poking out of the front pouch.
"Oh, I just picked it up on my way home. A little present for you," He smiled once more, "I thought you would like it."
He pulled the book out of his bag, and handed it to his wife, who opened up the book to find a card. Inside, the description of the card read, "To all those days when it was hard to hold on, and to all those days when it was easy to let go," In formal, cursive writing, Jeff wrote, "I know we've been through a lot lately, but I hope this book, and my love, can lighten the load a bit."
Brenda looked at the cover of the book, and gasped with delight as she read the name of the Author. "Michael Scott." Subsequently, looking up at her husband with tiny, glass like tears at the corner of her eyes, she pressed the book against her chest, and sighed. "I love you, Jeff."
When Jeff was finished eating, he cleaned his plate off and slid it in the shiny, stainless steel dish-washer. Before he could make to his room, Brenda stopped him with a reassured hand, "Wait, wait, wait, I have a secret to show you."
She smiled at her husband. Standing behind him, clasping his eyes, she led him to their room. Stopping at the doorway, she let go of Jeff's head. Lying silently before the man was a small, innocent child. Before he could speak but a word, Brenda put her chin on his shoulder and sighed, "She's meant to be ours Jeff. I just know it..."
She waited for Jeff to speak. She turned to see Large, thick tears forming around his eyes, crippling his dense eyebrows. "She is…She's…" Brenda stepped aside, allowing Jeff to slowly walk up and sit down beside the baby. He leaned in, looking at her directly. "She's beautiful" He whispered to her, as he sat staring awestruck at the child. Her eyes suddenly came fluttering open, without a doubt in her tiny, small mind; she smiled. Jeff let out an exaggerated laugh, and tears sprinkled their way down his pale cheeks, dripping lightly on the surface of the silky smooth blanket covering their bed.
Taking extreme care to not rustle the soft child with his hands, he lifted her over to a chaise covered in soft, ornamental, linen blankets. Brenda sat with Jeff, the infant cradled in his arms, and looked at him with happiness. Her hand moved along Jeff's forearm to regard the baby girl with her fingertips, allowing the girl to half-blindly grab them, and insert them into her small mouth.
"No, no, no, that's not where fingers belong, silly girl!" Jeff glanced at Brenda and implored her for a more reasonable explanation as to how the child appeared, and was so suddenly claimed theirs. Brenda placed her soft hand on Jeff's and looked deep into his eyes, letting the question sink into her perception of the event. Even she had a hard time grappling the thought of someone leaving a perfectly normal—if not exceptionally adorable—child on her front porch. Never the less, she had a perfect excuse in her own terms.
"While you were at work," She paused, looking down at the child's delicate, small hands. "I was having my usual afternoon bath. I had already made dinner, and eaten. I got out of the bath, and I heard a strange noise. It sounded like someone was whispering, and then it turned into a gurgle. I opened the door, and this is what I found."
Brenda rubbed the back of her hand across the child's face, making it smile and squirm in delight all the same. "I know this is sudden, but can't we just try?" Jeff shifted slightly uncomfortable, still staring at the infant. "What if somebody comes, Brenda?" Without an answer, Brenda got up and milled about the room for a few minutes.
She turned to look at Jeff, and spoke with an apprehensive tone "The question I'm asking, is why anyone would do something like this." She sat down on the bed, in front of him. "Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe we are supposed to raise her." Jeff looked up at her, with an odd expression on his face, an expression Brenda had never seen before. "You think so?"
Brenda smiled, sitting down where she had sat before. "I'm certain. I can feel it."