Chapter 1: Another Day, Another Dip in the Sea of Ignorance
Mindy could do nothing but stare at the blank sheet of paper with anxious bug-like eyes…
The only sound was the rhythmic tapping of her pencil against the tabletop. Tap…tap…tap…tap…tap-
It was the final period of the day, and she sat motionlessly in her creative writing class while the rest of her peers worked tirelessly on their college essays.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she read the prompt for what seemed like the millionth time: Each of us has a specific memory from our childhood that lingers in the backs of our minds. Write about an experience, conversation, or conflict from your past that has shaped you into the human being you are today.
Her lifeless grey eyes scanned over it a couple more times before she glanced up at the clock. To her horror, time was running out. She had less than ten minutes to write this paper, and all she had accomplished since she had entered was reading, tapping, and stressing.
Tap… tap… tap… tap… tap… tap… tap-
Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead as her breathing started to quicken.
Mindy tried (and failed) to rummage through her memories in order to pick a certain one that stood out. She gave up once her head started to pound, and reluctantly settled for the bliss of ignorance. As she scanned the room, she sunk into a pit of hopelessness. The world seemed to move at a snail's pace as the rest of her classmates' pencils wiggled in unison, while hers continued to tap repetitively against the desk.
Pathetic…remarkably pathetic actually. The voice in her head berated her, What is wrong with you? It's like you can never do anything right! You were doing just fine until you came to this prompt! You're gonna get an F for sure-no, scratch that, you're gonna get whatever is lower than F you miserable uneducated piece of-
-she was so lost in her whirlwind of overlapping thoughts, that she didn't even realize that the bell had rung until the teacher came and scooped up her paper.
Mrs. Lynn was a slender woman with wispy grey locks, and aged cerulean eyes. She donned an elegant white blouse, a simple black-and-white pencil skirt, and a pair of pointy triangular glasses.
She was about to place the sheet in the pile on her desk, when her brows knitted together in puzzlement. She flipped it over in hopes that there was something miraculously written underneath, and frowned when there wasn't. Mindy took this at her cue to leave, and started to follow her classmates out the door.
"Melinda? Could I talk to you for a moment?"
She cursed under her breath as she halted in her tracks.
Mindy whirled around with a tight grin, "Absolutely…is something wrong?"
"Don't worry; you're not in trouble or anything." Her teacher offered a smile of reassurance, "It's just that…I believe that your paper is blank."
She tilted her head, "It is? You don't know, maybe I used invisible ink!"
The joke itself was pathetic, but she forced herself to chuckle anyway in an attempt to lighten the mood. Judging from the stoic expression on Mrs. Lynn's face however, it was clear that she had failed astronomically.
Mindy cleared her throat before pushing the rim of her glasses to keep them from sliding off…God, why can't you talk like a normal human being for once?
The teacher grabbed a chair and brought it closer to her desk, "I think you should have a seat."
A slight whimper of dread resounded in the back of her throat as Mindy obediently padded to the front of the room, and sat down. She started to pick her nails while maintaining what appeared to be a calm and collected look on her face.
She could tell that she was about to get the chewing out of her lifetime, and so she could do nothing except prepare for the inevitable. This is it…this is how I die.
"Alright, so why didn't you write anything?" Mrs. Lynn settled comfortably into her swivel chair. "Surely you have at least one memory from childhood that sticks out in your mind."
"Don't get me wrong, I have more than one." Mindy admitted as she bounced her knee, "But… none of them have ever impacted me. They mainly consist of playing in the woods, eating ice cream, and watching… movies."
"Well, that's a good place to start… what kind of movies did you used to watch?"
She played with a strand of hair that'd escaped the unkempt structure of her unbelievably high ponytail, "It seems irrelevant to mention that, isn't it?"
"Maybe, but it could also help us recognize how they have influenced the person you've become." When Mindy chose not to respond, her teacher continued in a gentler yet firm voice, "I know that what I'm asking of you is personal, but that's the whole point of this exercise. This is your one and only chance to have a college view you as more than just a number among hundreds of other applicants. This essay is unlike any of the others you've written in this class. It isn't straightforward or formal, and it's not supposed to be. It's like reading a book. You wouldn't want to read a story where the main protagonist doesn't change or grow, right? It would be boring! This is the same thing. Your paper needs to tell a unique compelling narrative in order for it to stand out from the rest."
"I know…I'm sorry but, it's difficult for me to write about myself." Mindy confessed, "It's easier when I can reveal the innermost thoughts of fictional characters and what they're going through, because they aren't even real to begin with. What if I don't want to stand out? What if I want to blend in among the others?"
"Then that's your decision." Mrs. Lynn surmised, "I'm just saying that big-name universities will be more likely to accept you if you individualize yourself from every other bright-eyed senior out there."
Mindy considered her words before sucking in a breath, "When I was younger, I watched nothing but Disney movies… but they held no significance on shaping me as a person… they're just stories made to entertain children for generations to come. Heck, I haven't watched a single Disney movie in over six years… not even the new ones."
"Why not?"
"Because I've outgrown them, and they seem childish to me now."
"But every one of us was a child at some point in our lives." Her teacher pointed out, "Any story has the power to mold us into the people we are today; no matter how juvenile they appear to be. Now, I'm going to give you the weekend to think about those Disney movies you watched when you were a kid, and write about how they've impacted your life. Keep in mind I don't do this very often, so please take advantage of this opportunity. Turn it into me by Monday, and I will give you half credit on this assignment. Okay?"
"Alright." Mindy nodded before rising from her seat and heading to the back of the classroom, "Thank you Mrs. Lynn."
"No problem." She replied, "Have a good weekend, and a happy birthday."
"You too!"
Mindy's cheeks grew hot at the mistake she'd made, and just about bolted the rest of the way out the door. Great, now I can never talk to her again.
As she started the engine of her car, she pondered over the events that had just occurred.
Never, in all her years of being in high school had she ever hiccupped like that on an assignment. Not once had she ever doubted her ability to complete a task, or kill a pop quiz. Writing this paper should've been a piece of cake. It was an elementary school prompt for kids to write in their composition notebooks such as: What did you do over summer vacation? Or what is your favorite place in the whole wide world?
It shouldn't've been this difficult for her to write about an impactful childhood memory of all things.
…Is this the beginning of my slow descent into madness? Something isn't right…what kind of person doesn't remember the details of their own childhood?
Mindy's heart leapt into her throat as her bare feet pounded against the damp undergrowth. The words echoed thunderously inside of her mind: …run, run, run, run, run, run, RUN, RUN, RUN!
She was moving so rapidly that the world around her was nothing but a sea of nauseating colors and unrecognizable shapes. Brambles and thorns clawed at her from all angles, and she could've sworn her ears caught a ripping sound. She didn't stop to check the damage though. She had no idea who or what she was running from. All she knew was that she needed to escape.
She needed to get out.
Mindy remembered clutching someone's hand so tightly, it seemed as though she were sucking the life out of it. She coughed as more smoke filled her lungs. The world was now engulfed in sweeping violet flames that vaporized anything and everything that crossed its path.
Hushed disoriented whispers called out to her in the turmoil, but Mindy didn't stop to humor them. She pretended not to hear the ear-splitting screams, and feigned indifference to the disembodied hands reaching out to her from the fire.
One thing she wasn't able to ignore however, were the frightened tears that cascaded down her cheeks.
"This way Mindy hurry!"
Mindy tried her best to keep up, but she tripped on something, and tumbled onto the burning ground in an exhausted heap. Her eyes drooped as a faint ringing noise bounced off the walls of her skull. She caught sight of a pair of worried honey-colored eyes in the flames, but there was so much smoke in the air she couldn't see who they belonged to. She coughed and wheezed as her vision became red.
"The moment you step through that door, you'll lose everything…you'll lose me."
That was the final sentence she heard before her world fell to darkness oncemore.
She awoke with a strangled shriek.
Mindy panted as she ran trembling fingers through her hair. She reeked with sweat, and her cheeks were stained with hot tears. Her eyes darted back-and-forth in a panic, and sighed with relief upon seeing the familiar sights of her bedroom.
She appeared to be back in the real world, but the all-too-familiar ringing drowning her eardrums made her doubt what she was seeing with her eyes…
Something wasn't right, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.
Mindy always got so frustrated when she couldn't remember something.
It drove her completely insane, to the point of not being able to sleep at night. Sometimes, she would spend countless hours lying on her back staring up at her ceiling all because of the irksome ringing sound in her ears. Granted, she had no clue what the sound was, or the cause of it. However, one thing she did know was that it meant there was some part of her that was missing; something that she could never feel whole without…
Mindy took a deep breath, and shook her head to clear these ridiculous thoughts from her reeling brain. She was letting a dream get the best of her. It was a mere fantasy that had nothing to do with her or her life whatsoever.
It was complete and utter nonsense, and she refused to dwell on it anymore.
Instead, she drew her attention back to the blank word document on her computer screen.
She wasn't surprised in the slightest to see her cursor blinking in and out of existence in an irritatingly repetitive pattern. It was as though it was mocking her with the fact that she couldn't type a single word.
Mindy knew that second chances weren't easy to come by, and she intended to take full advantage of her teacher's generosity. The only problem was that it was difficult to start the writing process when she had no idea what to write about in the first place.
Despite how much she pretended to resent them over the years, Mindy still enjoyed the clichéd stories Disney told, the out-of-nowhere musical numbers, and the mindset that good will always triumph over evil. She enjoyed the beautiful princesses, the courageous heroes, the dastardly villains, and the goofy sidekicks.
But she couldn't seem to think of a single movie that had altered the course of her life.
The more she pondered over Disney movies and her scattered memories, the more she began to worry.
Childhood played the biggest role in shaping individuals' perspectives, preferences, and imaginations. If the only two things she could remember were playing in the woods and watching Disney movies, how did she become such a nervous wreck?
Mindy was pulled from her whizzing thoughts as her eyes fell upon the digital clock on the nightstand next to her. Her jaw dropped as she read what time it was: 6:25 P.M.
Her eyes grew wide with disbelief, Shoot! I was supposed to be at the treehouse half an hour ago!
Mindy made a mad dash to her wardrobe and flung the doors open with strength she didn't know she possessed. She tossed clothes blindly over her shoulder as she searched for the perfect outfit. Finally, she found a cute black-and-white striped sweater, dark navy-blue skinny jeans, and tight leather boots.
She cringed at the mountain of fabric sprawled onto her bed, but promptly decided that she didn't have time to clean it up. Once she had changed, she bolted down the hall at supersonic speed… but paused once she reached the stairs.
Her father sat motionlessly on the bench with a pensive glint in his eyes… It was as though he were stuck in the past as he plunked a detached tune on the keys of the piano in the corner.
John Douglass Singh was a slender man with high cheekbones and eyebrows that resembled two fuzzy caterpillars underneath his forehead. He had a mocha-colored skin tone, and a strong chiseled chin. His nose took up half of his face while his mouth was a thin brush stroke in comparison. His hair was pencil-lead grey and had been neatly combed to perfection. He donned a pinstripe business suit along with a pair of glossy black dress shoes.
Biting her lip, Mindy creaked down the stairs, and tiptoed through the hall.
Right as she was about to turn the door handle, the music stopped. "Where do you think you're going?"
Immediately dreading the worst, Mindy whirled around to face her father. Knowing that she had to do it sooner or later, she lifted her head her head upwards so she could make direct eye-contact.
For as long as she could remember, his eyes had both fascinated and horrified her. As a result from crying so often, permanent tear stains streaked his cheeks and his eyes had gradually transformed from a deep cerulean blue to blood red. It was almost impossible for Mindy to look into those sorrow-filled eyes without feeling the slightest bit of sorrow herself.
"My friends and I decided to hang out at our old treehouse… Is that okay?" He didn't respond, so she took that as a sign to continue. "I haven't started on my homework yet, but I promise that I'll get it done before the weekend is over."
Mindy held her breath in anticipation as she awaited his answer…
"I guess it's alright."
"Thanks." She gave a respectful nod… she was about to step out the door, when she impulsively turned around. "I… I love you dad."
He remained silent.
Mindy stared at the apathetic man before her with a solemn expression on her face. For a moment, she made no move towards the door. She was about to place a hand on his shoulder, but chickened out at the last minute.
Suddenly wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, she fumbled to open the door, and took off towards the hill leading to the forest.
Mindy blinked the tears from her eyes as she ran. He didn't even wish me a happy birthday.