Who I Had Brought The Worst Upon
I slumped to the ground, and looked around me with no consciousness. I could not remember anything apart from the memory, and I could see nothing but the bottom line. It was clearly not the same person who wrote my mother’s name, it was someone else with a scrawly handwriting. I felt scared.
The group stopped moving and noticed that their Queen was crying on the floor. They gathered around me. “Your Highness! Ma’am what happened? Ma’am? Ma’am please respond!” I heard someone scream and I didn’t respond. I was afraid of what I’d do next. Why?
The kids gathered around me in the closet cupboard. They jeered and pointed at me. They enjoyed looking at me in my weakest. I had tears streaming out of my eyes, and I looked at them but I couldn’t register their faces in the dark. Every single one of them was laughing. I crawled further in the corner of the closet. They laughed and mocked me. I remembered how one of them had turned up on my bed with a knife.They hated me enough to kill me. What had I ever done to them? What could a seven-year old do, anyways? I thought about what could I do. They were coming closer to me, many of them having ropes in their hands. Why did they need so much protection against me? I thought about how I made the water flow. I thought about how the wind stopped moving if I sometimes got scared of the noises it made. I thought of my powers. I smiled. Instantly, the children’s necks contorted. Their faces started turning blue. Their hands went to their necks, and horrible gagging started. I was still smiling.
No, don’t worry. I am a hyperventilating dolphin, a crazy queen and a normally weird person, but not a murderer. They survived, and no one ever tried to threaten me again.
Survival of the, not fittest, the best.
I got up from my position on the floor and wiped my eyes. “Who wrote this?” I asked them, glaring at all of them one by one. “It was years ago. Its not important. Why were you crying ma’am? We all would happily sacrifice our lives for you if someone demanded blood. Yours need not be spilled! There is no danger. What is there to fear?” A man spoke.
“The thing to fear is, I once almost killed the people who were trying to kill me, and I still live with the guilt of doing something nine years ago. I cannot live like that. Who wants to kill me? Why? What has my mother done?” I asked, losing my meager patience.
“They cannot tell you honey. I can.” Walks out from behind them, a gorgeous lady. Like, seriously, she could give the most beautiful woman in the world, a run for her money. Perfect face with all features proportionate, eyes arctic blue, lips full and red, she looked like Aphrodite to me. But no, she looked that way, but she was my dear mother. I smiled at her, and her return smile almost ensured my one-way ticket to heaven.
“You’re beautiful, honey.”
“Me? Mom! You are so beautiful! I must look devilish from all our travel!”
There was some awkwardness in my heart as I called her my mother, but I tried to put it aside for answers. She laughed, and all the awkwardness melted. I remembered this laugh. Something flashed in my head, and a memory came back to me, me lying in a cradle, my Mom rocking it, and the sound of wind chimes. Then I saw a smile on my Mom’s face and realized that it wasn’t wind chimes, but it was Mom, laughing. Crystal clear in my ears, as if wind chimes had just played a melody by accident. In that instant, I went and hugged my mother.
I was never this familiar with a stranger. She hugged me back with equal force, and that hug, I think- no scratch that, I know- conveyed what we would have never been able to express in mere words. I missed someone I had barely known. When we broke apart, I asked her who wrote the words on the frame. I think she saw the fear in my eyes, and then she asked me-
“Are you ready to know this? Do you really want to know about what you might not encounter in another 50 years?” I thought about this, and after 6 seconds of hard thinking, I swear, I said, “Yes.”
“The fire elementral.”