MINDSHADOW
(Disclaimer: All characters except Brenda are property of Marvel Comics/Kids WB.)
St. Brendan's Church in Ruttletop, Hampshire, England, was not the sort of place where strange or unusual things happened. But on this bright Sunday morning, they were about to.
From the choir loft, twelve-year-old Brenda Ellis watched as Father MacIsaac recited the closing prayer. She liked closing prayer, because it meant that she was going to sing soon. And her favorite hymn too, "Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee."
But as Father MacIsaac droned on, she became aware of other voices besides his. First one, then another, then another, hissing and whispering to her in words she couldn't quite hear.
What was going on? Was someone talking in church? She looked around, but she didn't see any mouths moving.
It was as if . . . the voices were speaking directly into her head.
But that was evil. That was the work of the Devil . . . wasn't it?
"It was the Devil . . . the Devil himself!"
No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't.
The voices grew louder, pressing in on her from all sides . . . She covered her ears, trying to block them out, but still they came, even louder than before—
"STOP IT!" She wasn't even aware she had spoken, much less stood up and shouted at the top of her lungs. The entire church turned and looked at her. Even Father MacIsaac stopped in midsentence and glanced up to see what was wrong.
I don't belong here, Brenda thought, ashamed. I'm the child of the Devil! I can't be here!
Before anyone, least of all the stunned choirmistress, could stop her, she turned and fled from the church. She didn't stop until she got to her room in the adjacent convent, where she collapsed on her bed, sobbing in terror.
She must have fallen asleep. When she woke up, Sister Maria was by her side.
Sister Maria had been her confidante since she was small. In many ways, she was like a mother to the orphaned girl.
"My poor child, what happened?"
Brenda found it hard to answer. "I . . . I heard voices, Sister. In my head."
"The Holy Spirit called you?"
"No, there were many voices, like a lot of people talking at once. But they were talking inside my head." The girl propped herself up on her elbow. "Sister Iphigenia is right, I am a child of the Devil!"
"No, you are not," Sister Maria reassured her firmly. "I was there, and I can honestly say that your birth was nothing short of blessed."
"Except that my mother died."
"She entered the arms of the Father, so that you would live," Sister Maria said. She sat on the bed and put her arm around the girl. "My child, God has a plan for you, and these voices you're hearing are part of his plan. Don't shut them out. Learn to listen to them, and they will guide you."
"How do you know that?"
"I trust in God, who loves us. And you should too." She took something from her pocket and slipped it over the girl's head. "This was your mother's. She wanted you to have it when you were old enough."
Brenda looked down at it. It was a locket on a chain. On the
front was engraved "MARGARET ROSE ELLIS",
"Yes, it is. She wore this until the day she died."
"Who's that?" She touched the boy's picture. He was rather good-looking, with a bright smile that matched the girl's. Brenda had never seen her mother's smile.
"I have no idea. She never spoke of her life before she came here. It was like . . . she wanted to put it behind her." Sister Maria stood up. "I told everyone that you were ill. You can have the rest of the day to yourself. I'll bring your meals."
"I'm sorry," Brenda said. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know you didn't, love. Now why don't you ask God to help you listen to what your voices are saying?"
"I'll do that."
"Good." Sister Maria went out and shut the door behind her.
Brenda sat up, still holding the locket in one hand. Hard to believe her mother had once been a pretty young girl, arm in arm with her boyfriend (was he her boyfriend? For all Brenda knew this could have been her brother, but something about their smiles told her they were very much in love).
Are you watching over me, Mother? Will you help me? Do I need to listen to the voices, or make them go away? Please, give me a sign!
She prayed every night, to St. Brendan, to the Blessed Mother, and to her own mother, but the sign she needed so badly didn't come for two years.
The discount bookshop was one of Brenda's favorite places to go in town. A voracious reader, she spent virtually all her pocket money on books. Currently she was reading her way through Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. She was hoping to find one or two she'd missed here.
"Hi, Nick," she said to the shop assistant. He was a few years older than her and always had a book open, studying for his exams.
"We should put your name on the door," he said. "This is practically your second home."
"Any new Pratchett?"
"I think so. Yes, I believe The Fifth Elephant came in this morning. It's on the shelf."
"Which shelf would that be?" she said, as if she didn't know.
"Let's see . . . maybe under 'P'?"
"I'll try there. Thanks."
She found it, and a few more she hadn't seen before. Checking her pockets, she found enough money for two, possibly three.
"Hmmm . . ." she thought. "Elephant and . . . I don't
think I have Sourcery. I think I'll get
On her way to the front, she dropped one of the books. She bent down to pick it up and glanced at the bottom row of books in front of her. One title in particular stood out: A Definition of Human Mutation: Tapping the "X" Gene, by Prof. Charles Xavier.
Curious, she picked it up and looked through it. The first chapter was entitled, "We Are Only Human."
Hearing people's thoughts!
The voices she had heard in her head, that day at church . . . they weren't voices, they were people's thoughts. She was hearing what people were thinking. An enormous sense of relief washed over her. She wasn't a Devil-child after all, just a . . . mutant. What a strange-sounding word.
She read on:
"You gonna buy that?" Nick had snuck up behind her while she wasn't looking.
"Oh!" She nearly dropped the book. "Yes. Yes, I am." She checked her funds again. Well, she could live without ice cream this week. "And the Pratchett, too, please."
Nick took her purchases over to the counter. "I've read this," he said, indicating the Xavier book. "He's a right smart bloke. D'you know he's from here?"
"From Ruttletop?" Brenda laughed. "Nobody's from Ruttletop!"
"No, I think he's from London. He did a speaking tour here four or five years ago. Very commanding presence."
"Really?"
"Maybe he'll do another one. Twelve pounds fifty."
"What? Oh." She fished the money out and put it on the counter, smoothing the rumpled bills.
Nick was looking at something in the back of the book. "I wonder if this e-mail addy is real."
"What?"
"He's put an e-mail address right on the last page here. Probably changed it by now, but it'd be worth checking out, I think."
"I think I'll read the book first," Brenda said, "then write and tell him what I think of it."
"Good plan." Nick gave her her change back, then put the books into a plastic bag.