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Once upon a time there was a girl who saw the world in shades of grey sound. The doctors could not say for sure what was wrong with her. She never said a word that could be understood, yet there was nothing wrong with her mouth. She never paid attention to those around her, yet her ears worked perfectly fine. They ended up doing cat scans and other tests for her brain, yet no results were conclusive. She was born, presumably on the streets, and was taken into foster care at an early age. As she got older, it was apparent that taking care of her would be too hard, so they committed her to a mental facility where she could be taken care of properly. It was obvious that there was something not right about the girl, yet there was no signs of what was actually wrong with her. Doctors eventually called it schizophrenia in an attempt to name it. Yet that wasn't right either. Her case was certainly unusual, but over time she was dismissed from the doctors minds. She would occasionally be released, and spend her time wandering the streets, staying at homeless shelters, before being taken back to the institute. She grew old before her time, black hair streaked with grey and white, though she was no more than 20. Her face became gnarled and hardened, though by what it is difficult to say. Over time it was impossible to tell her age. Was she 30? 40? 50 even? And all the while she hummed a song of her mind. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Her eyes a faded grey-blue watched the night sky outside the institute window. The moon would appear, disappear in an endless cycle, the stars would shift day by day. And the humming of the mind, and the whisper of the moon, and the rising of the waiting with the fall of each breath..... it gathered. Susan (for that was the name given to her) pleated at the side of her second hand, faded, floral skirt. She wore thick socks, no shoes, and a green jumper two sizes too big. Donated clothes. She rocked back on her toes, and stroked the window pane gently, reaching for the moon behind it. And for the first time she spoke. Her voice crackling from under use, “She's coming.”
~***~
Adalee was bored. Her father, head of Firwood Institute, was a busy man. Even now, he was on the phone, wading through sheets of business type papers. She thought it quite rude really, considering he was the one that brought her to his work in the first place. The place creeped her out. They called it a rehabilitation center. Not the “Check me out and my rock star addictions” kind of rehab. More like the “I've been in a debilitating accident/ I'm crazy” kind of rehab. The people that wandered on the grounds were all.... strange. From a distance they looked almost normal, but then you'd see their clouded over eyes, or too much chewed lips and nails, or they'd be doing something weird like talking to themselves. She much preferred the sane ones that were simply there to learn to walk after an accident or something. Her father hung up the phone. Guilt washed over Adalee as he turned to face her. She knew how much time and effort he spent at the Institute, working with the people and the carers. He was often frustrated by the way people thought of the residents, and there she was thinking the same thing. Besides, the people out walking on the grounds weren't dangerous or anything. The Institute was small and not equipped for dealing with total psychos.
Her father cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“How are you Ada? I hope this isn't too much trouble coming today?”
Adalee hadn't been aware that it was optional. She sidetracked the question.
“I'm good, how about you?”
“I'm good.” He nodded his head slowly as he spoke.
Awkward silence.
“Look, the reason I called you here was that your mother wanted me to talk to you about something.”
Adalee watched her father curiously. So her parents were on speaking terms. And conspiring against her no less.
“Ok.” she answered.
He moved away from the desk, and for a second it looked as though he was going to take the seat beside her
 Shu-Nya · Thu Jun 12, 2008 @ 08:13am · 0 Comments |
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