The Stolen Mind

This was just something I actually enjoyed writing as it isn't something I have written before, and I was just so excited to finally have an idea as to what to write. I cannot take full credit as there are two people I must thank, my friend and fellow Movellian, Amy Wiles, and one of my English teachers who helped get the ideas flowing in my mind.

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1. The Stolen Mind

 

It was warm and drowsy in the school playground in Madrid, the children are laughing and playing, unaware of what may be happening in another place, or even another time.

 

A young girl enters the room, she is scared and doesn't know where to go. She could be no older than 8 years old, and her eyes were an odd shade of grey that seemed to tell any stranger that she was an adult. An adult in a child's body.

 

Two little girls sit in the shade of a tree, they start talking about dolls, clothes, and other such trivial things.  How could they not know? How could they not wonder just what happened to that strange girl they used to know? The girl they used to talk to every now and then.

 

 No one had seen what she had seen. No other child of her age had. Not even the oldest people could have seen what she had seen. No one could have done what she had done. She'd watched her own parents die in a fire, a fire she knew was her fault.

 

They had been told by their mothers to stay away from her. They said she was a witch, they said she had strange powers. They had never really believed it, not until the fire. No one could figure out what had caused it, all they knew was that the girl had survived unscathed. Her parents hadn't been so fortunate.

 

The matron points to a bed, all alone in the room. It only has a single blanket and a misshapen pillow. She crosses the room to perch on the corner of the bed and places her little suitcase on the pillow. She opens it to take out her one and only possession. She wields her weapon in her right hand, loving the feel of the cold metal in her hand.

 

The two girls climb the tree to rest on a single branch, not too far from ground level. They find it amusing to be higher than others.

 

She knew what she must do, she knew that there was only one way to end things once and for all. Before her eyes are her mother and father. She's there with them, standing in an ethereal glow yet emitting the puce, jaundiced colouring of the neglected. In a moment, the air feels cold and the atmosphere stills; just long enough for her to apologise. Apologise for being so weak.

 

The branch breaks without warning,

 

A gunshot is fired.

 

One of the girls sprains her ankle,

 

The girl lies ever so still. Still, in a pool of her own blood.

 

The girl is crying from the pain.

 

A single tear is all that shows that this girl felt anything at all. She was an adult in a child's body, she had seen more than most grown men. She was a Stolen Mind.

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