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When I was about eleven, I developed an uncanny notion that I was simply different from other kids. Not unique, just different. Like when I didn't feel amazed at the sight of the rose plant in my backyard wilt under my gaze. The sudden coldness I felt at times (removed, strangely enough, by a big bar of chocolate.) Or when I could see -unlike most kids- black winged horses, almost reptilian in their silkiness, flying across the sky at nighttime. I had read about kids of course, kids who were special, kids who remembered all about their past life, kids with unnatural talent-'prodigies' they were called. But a kid who sees winged creatures in the dark? Definitely not normal.

I would put the question to my Maman and she would say, "My girl tells such pretty stories, does she not? But of course, I know why… You could become a writer, my love."

"But it's true, Maman, I really saw them. Horses with wings like lizards…"

"My love, that's enough of that, Maman needs to sleep, she's tired."

"You are not listening."

Maman would sigh." My dear, we have talked about this before. Your sixth sense, eh? Give it a rest."

"But I …"

"Good Night, sleep tight, don't let the bugs bite."

"Oh fine. Good night, then Maman. I am sure Petu…."

She smiled. I don't think Petunia will, that smile seemed to say. Kissed me. Closed the door.

And I would be left in a dark space of my own, with dissatisfaction, curiosity and the feeling that I had revealed myself something. What? Those winged horses- fantastic as they sounded? My own eyes, lying to me?

No-a sentence: "But of course, I know why."

My sister- elder by two and a half years- Petunia scrunched up her dark eyes, frowning. "What do you mean, you saw a flying horse?"

"Really big, sister. They looked like-" I shivered. It was creepy to think of them in the dark-" ghosts? Anyway, they were really scary!"

"Pretty."

"I swear."

"Really, Lily." It wasn't a question.

"Why wouldn't you believe me?!" I was frustrated.

"Who says I don't believe you? My little sister saw a flying horse in the night sky. That's right. Oh no, sorry. I'm sorry. Lizards, weren't they? Lizard-like horses? Or maybe horse-like lizards? Anyway, you would get near neither. You are a namby-pamby baby who imagines things, a frea-…"

"DON'T CALL ME A FREAK!"I screamed. Tears stung my eyes, even as my mind went: Don't you worry, Lily…she's just being herself. That's typically how Petunia is. Mean and mocking. She can't help herself!

Of course I was scared of lizards (who aren't?) but not horses. That was a white lie. Horses are so beautiful; it's she who's scared of them, she who vehemently detested their agility, their beautifully arched necks, their shivering coats of silk. She loved to say-as she always did-"They are filthy beasts. They have so many germs on them. Stand back, wouldn't you, Lily?"

For my sister had absolutely nothing when it came to dreaming, to see the beauty in things. She failed to realize that there was a life out there, beyond her overstuffed dollhouse and silly little tea-parties(from which, I was fortunate enough to be always excluded), beyond the suffocating blue-tiled walls of Evan's Place-a life in the rolling, lush grassy meadows and the woods behind our house. A life full of luxury, but not the luxury of silk and lace and diamonds. No. It was the luxury of the woods, of a life full of new surprises; a life lived at par with the trees and birds alike. The luxury of a life lived amidst nature.

Petunia failed to see all this. For her, a life well-lived comprised of strawberries for breakfast, meat-pies for tea, lots of fluffy flouncy silken dresses, ribbons aplenty and a blond-haired, blue-eyed doll which squeaked when pressed. She failed to see how a sparkling stream, a redbreast and a couple of woodland creatures gave me such pleasure.

And I thought I was supposed to be the freak.

"What happened?" she asked now, somewhat contritely. "Cat got your tongue?"

I flopped down on the bed, maintaining the injured silence. After a while, I heard her sighing and slipping into her bed as well. Some time before daybreak, I fell asleep. And dreamt of those luminous, flying horses. "Come with us Lily," they rasped. "We'll take you somewhere where you belong. Not here."