I used to think of Wammy's House as its own island, isolated from world, protected and secure from whatever goes on outside our walls. The world seemed kind of scary back then, full of ghosts and monsters and whatever else parents told children about to keep then in bed at night. Of course, none of us here have parents anymore.
Still, Wammy's House was supposed to be a place of security. We kinda lived on our time, because if anything happened on the outside, it didn't affect us. A child's selfishness, maybe, but I never wanted to leave. I didn't want to face the world's monsters and ghosts.
But of course, the house had its own.
For an institution of geniuses, the house was pretty full. Of course, everyone would love to believe they're special, that they are a prodigy at something. I suppose if you look close enough, everyone does have a talent that they're considered a genius at. Me, it was being invisible.
People called me a ghost. Seems like I've been here forever, never changing. I never wanted to leave like the others. Because the others passed through here, walked down these halls, through those doors and out into the big world. They left traces, you know. You can see them in the apple trees outside, the painted windows that scatter the light throughout the house.
Everyone had a story, it seems. Each one of the Wammy kids had a purpose. They became the painters, the dancers, the detectives, sometimes the criminals that make up today's society. And they were very good at what they did.
I'm a ghost, of some sorts, because I watched them all. I was a watcher. I never joined in. I guess my purpose is to tell their stories. The kind you can't read about in books. I can't read, you know. I didn't learn my alphabet.
I knew them all, from A-Z.