Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. Also, I based this character's mental condition off of a romanticized version of insanity, so please do not comment on how unrealistic it is. I'm a fanfiction writer dammit, not a doctor!
"The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they are okay, then it's you."
Rita Mae Brown
A tiny, malnourished form lay sprawled across the road, watching a very important liquid draining away into the gutter.
But instead of the tragedy you might be expecting from this statement, it was instead a perfectly unharmed young woman, and the liquid she saw was the sidewalk and curb melting; collapsing on itself like warm ice cream.
Of course the sidewalk was not really melting. But if anyone had bothered to ask her why she was lying in the road like so much road kill, and supposing she had deigned to answer, she would have replied with perfect conviction that it was because she wanted to see how much of the sidewalk would drain away before it became solid again.
Just then, a loud and horrible beast screeched at her, towering above her, puffing smoke and glaring from bright yellow eyes. A strange man who stretched and heaved as he leaned out from inside the monster foamed and raged and waved his hand at her.
Like so many others she had met, this one could not speak, he just roared and chattered meaningless sounds at her. She got up and ran away
She did not like meeting the others, and with surprising consistency, they were always displeased to meet her. Some of them would even throw things at her. Some threw pieces of bread that were stuffed with red and green, and those were good to eat. But others threw rocks and pieces of brick, and those hurt.
Even worse, sometimes they connected with some of the fish that were always floating around with her, and that made her sad when they died, because they always did. They would pop like soap bubbles, and would never come back. They were all different, and one that had popped had never come back yet. It was true that there were always more, but it still made her sad.
She shook her head unhappily, and decided it was time to fly. She playfully swatted away an errant school, watching them dart just out of reach like they always did.
The ground dropped out from under her feet, and the sky bowed its head to meet her. This was her special secret, her happiest secret. She could make the world rise and fall, buck and toss, twist and flip. She could make the world turn all around her.
It was a lovely night, despite the fact that it was morning mere minutes ago, with a full crescent moon and a thousand fireflies far far away. And then before her eyes, the fireflies swarmed together and swept off, and the moon turned into a yellow brick road.
She would follow the yellow brick road! The sky came ever closer, she brought it to herself until it was close enough to touch, and she did so. Just as her hand closed around the first shimmering stone . . .
It morphed into a mango in her hands, and she was staring at an angry shopkeeper, and it was morning once again. He too was shouting and waving his arms, and the meaningless chatter washed over her. His face trembled and jerked, looming over her until he was all she could see, expanding and becoming a giant, his shadow covering everything in sight.
He yanked the mango out of her hand, normal sized again, and scooted her away, whacking at her with his broom.
She floated several inches above the sidewalk, serenely eating the orange she had managed to swipe, peel and all.
This was how she had lived her entire life, as far as she knew. She could not conceive of anything different. She let the earth fall away again, and landed on top of a roof.
On the outskirts of New York, the streets were full of mutants, hobos, and loonies. One more did not stand out. If she had been just insane, then she could have been taken to a mental hospital where she could have received help. But she was a mutant who didn't have enough sense to hide her mutation. If she had been just a mutant, one of the roving bands of mutants might have taken her in. But she was also crazy. It wouldn't have been worth the effort to feed and protect her. And if she was just homeless, a homeless shelter might have taken her in. But she was also crazy and a mutant.
So she sat on the roof, watching flowers sprout out of the bare tarpaper and chewing the peel on her orange.
She sat motionless for a long time, occasionally whimpering or giggling, depending on what she was seeing. And then she woke up with a start and realized that it was dark, a smoky, horrible kind of dark instead of a flowery, moony kind of night.
All she could hear were footsteps, and all she could see was green eyes flicking towards her one pair at a time.
At least one pair of eyes proved to be a cat, as the mangy animal scuttered out from under a trash can under the street light. But just as she was sighing in relief, the formerly innocent creature twisted and bloated, growing and shedding darkness and fur. It grew and grew, and it was still looking at her, all fangs and fur and still shedding waves of darkness.
She screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed, even as she noticed that the streets were hurtling by at an alarming speed, because the monster was somehow keeping up, and its eyes were no longer green, but amber, and she knew that the color amber meant danger, and its teeth were red because it had already taken her foot, and nothing she did made her fast enough to avoid losing the other one.
And then she spied a warm golden glow coming from a nearby cathedral, a beautiful brick building with steeples and glass windows and everything. Gold meant safety.
She forgot all about the monster behind her, and apparently it forgot about her, for it wandered off and did not bother her again. She touched the ground again; and noticed in a distracted but happy way that her feet had been restored.
The gold glow of the cathedral was positively beautiful. She had never met a place that she wanted to go into more. Her natural instincts, warning her that entering buildings was dangerous, warred with her curiosity. And of course curiosity won.
With a jolt, the ground sank away from her, the street swung up until it was parallel with her body. And then it was racing away underneath her, the cathedral spinning closer at exhilarating speed. But then the entire world slowed to a peaceful halt with no more than a gentle touch of her palms to the cathedral windowsill.
She awkwardly wriggled her way inside the narrow window, and gently floated to the floor far below her.
It was dark, very dark, but there were no eyes and she was grateful. She thought she might sleep here for the night. She floated around the interior, examining everything as well as she could despite the hum in her ears and the way the room seemed to vibrate.
A big statue of a woman was at the front, and she felt a sudden impulse to curl up in her outstretched hands. The statue's head lifted and nodded slightly. She beamed with joy, and folded up in the crook of her arm. It really was an immense statue.
Her rough clothing scraped against the marble, and unexpectedly, a pair of eyes opened up from near the front.
She froze in fear. Amber eyes, amber danger, danger danger danger . . . No, gold. Gold eyes. Gold meant safety.
The eyes disappeared.
Curious again, she hopped silently to the ground and crossed over, ghostlike, to where she had seen the specter.
She was successful enough that she was standing right in front of him when she finally spotted him, crouched on the ground, hands pressed together at the palms.
With the sun in his eyes; the night sky on his skin; and the smell of damnation and purification clinging to him like a cloak, he was like no one she had ever seen before. She bent forward and stared at him closer.
His sunny eyes opened, neither had time to do anything other than gasp before the shadows leaped out from every corner and snatched him away, leaving the scent of damnation hanging in the air thickly.
She shrieked, and then laughed, clapping her hands. She knew now, he was special like her. To be able to command the shadows to carry you away! She hoped he would come back.
She twisted around, and spotted him up on a rafter. Her fish were grouped about him tightly, giving him a shimmering, hazy look. With a lazy flick of her wrist, she sailed up and perched on a neighboring rafter.
"Doogan! Doogan(1)!" she enthused. The Shadow Man stared at her blankly, hunched over and clutching his trench coat in front of him protectively.
"Doogan!" she commanded, a bit more sternly this time. "Ahwannawangchihgan.(2)"
"Do... again?" Shadow Man questioned. She giggled and nodded.
He looked a little longer at her, and then just as unexpectedly as the first time, the shadows leaped out, wrapped around him like a giant fist, and whisked him away.
She gasped again, her fists stuffed in her mouth, eyes wide. She cast about for him, kicking her feet excitedly. Shadow Man had appeared on her other side, and was watching her again.
"Wangch. Ahmoowhirld.(3)" she proclaimed, standing up and drifting up towards the ceiling.
Shadow Man was silent for a long time, long enough at least that she grew bored and started sweeping up the shadows with her hand, watching them seep away through her fingers.
Then he stood up. "I know a place where you can go to be safe. It is called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Its for people like us to go to. Would you like to go?" he asked.
She understood the words, as Shadow Man made sure to speak very carefully, but not the content. So she smiled, and said, "'Kay."
I decided I wanted to write about a character who was living in a totally different world than everybody else around her. So voila, you have my poor nameless character, who suffers from insanity and severe hallucinations. Not much happens around her that is real, but I think you can separate fact from fiction here.
By the way, she speaks like a very young child with a bit of a speech impediment. Along with the fact that she has not been in normal contact with people for a very long time, she has very nearly created her own language, which is why she does not understand the words when people shout at her. When they speak slowly and clearly however, she can still understand them.
(1)Do it again
(2)I want to watch it again
(3)Watch. I move the world