Chaos is a Child
by An Evil Nymph
I was blind.
At least, that’s what they all thought.
When I was born, the horrified cry of my mother greeted me before I could even taste human air. My father was yelling at the nurses.
“Get it out! At once!”
I never saw them again.
Rumours said that they had been murdered by the FBI, but I believed suicide had its part too in the story. As for me, I would not see the world. They gave me to a female tutor: she was so kind to me at first that I called her ‘mummy’. I was kept in a beautiful vintage house found in a forest, away from any kind of communication. I was shown how to read, calculate and write like any other child, but I never genuinely knew the meaning of ‘friends’ or ‘town’.
I was merely allowed to see my ‘mother’, my toys, and the forest, also including the other men who were always dressed in a white lab coat and a sort of oxygen mask. Therefore, the words most familiar to me were ‘blood’, ‘experiment’ and ‘injection’.
And I thought that I was ‘happy’.
I was a spoiled child, receiving everything I wanted. I believed that I was free, but instead I was ignorant of the wonders behind those tall imposing trees. I believed that all these people were fond of me, but in reality, they were afraid.
Indeed, at that time, I knew nothing; it was only years later that I really understood what had happened.
One day I walked to the tall mirror on my bedroom’s lilac wall and I stared at myself. My mother shortly came and stood next to me to kiss me good morning.
I then realised that something was wrong.
The two pair of eyes… they were totally different. Hers was a white oval-shaped globe with a circular blue planet at the center and a smaller black one inside; while mine was completely black. Everything about my eyes was black. It looked like someone had inserted two polished dark pebbles in my eye sockets. I quickly scanned my memories for any recollections of reading about the human eye in my children’s books…
“Mom?”
“Yes, darling?”
I took a step forward and carefully placed my palm flat on the mirror, where my face was reflected. “Who am I?”
Her face seemed alarmed for a second, but it instantly shifted back to being loving and caring. “Why, you’re Nya, of course, a smart little girl of six years old already.”
I wanted to cry. “I’m a monster, ain’t I?”
Since then, I had less visitors and I never saw the lady whom I thought was my mother again. Only the men in white coats entered the house. I discovered that I was a mere laboratory rat for the FBI and the NASA: big organizations that killed my parents; that took away my life even before I could live. I was restricted to a tiny space. I did not know the real world. I knew nothing.
I wished I could escape. But they were smarter than me. They tricked me, overpowered me, abused me.
Slowly, a simmering ball of fury grew inside of me. I broke the mirror, scattered my toys, killed everything. But I was still lonely. The men kept on coming. The secret remained a secret.
Two years passed away. I decided that I would not let them take my blood anymore for their lame tests. I stood in the centre of my room and waited for them. The broken toys encouraged me. The shattered glass illuminated me. Soon, they came in.
And I jumped.
When I opened my eyes, they were gone. Something warm and cozy built up in my chest. I was glad for the first time in my life, because, for once, I had achieved something worthwhile. I looked in front of me. The main door was ajar and would readily lead me to freedom.
But the mirror hanging on its wooden surface caught my eyes. I saw me, Nya with the dark pebbled eyes… inside a ball of black energy! What was happening?
I approached the reflective glass. When I tried to touch it, it dissolved into thin air. Panicked, I reached out to the other objects around me: a table, a bouquet of flowers… but I could not touch any of them. Instead, I sucked them up in those dark waves that were floating around my body. I was like a black hole.
Recognition and fury burst out and I began to run. Everything that stood in my way was either doomed to disappear or to explode. I created a mess everywhere I went.
At last, when fatigue choked me, I stopped and let myself fall past the front door on the soft green grass. And I cried.
I did not know for how long I remained like this, but I gradually heard footsteps getting closer and louder.
“Nya?” a woman’s voice uttered.
It was a stranger. As I hesitantly lifted up my head I noticed her hand reaching out to me.
“No, don’t touch me.” I struggled to stand up. “And leave me alone.”
Despite my warnings, she grabbed me by the arm and gave me a hand. My eyebrows shot up when I realised that she was still beside me. She had not been sucked up. The ball was gone.
But it could come back. I could not control it. I did not even know what it was. I was dangerous. I was scared of myself.
The stubborn woman inhaled deeply. “Nya, my name is Heila, and I’m here to help you. I know who you are and what you are capable of. I have the answers to your questions. I am here to fetch you – snatch you away from those FBI scientists.” She swiftly looked around. “Well I guess that this part of the work is already done.”
I could scarcely believe my ears.
She added, “You can trust me.”
I stared at her emerald eyes which shone in determination, in tune with her brave dark hair struggling against the wind. She looked younger than I had thought: she was maybe around eighteen years old, and she wore a simple pair of faded jeans with a black and white blouse and worn out tennis shoes. I instantly knew that she was a fighter.
A tear rolled down my cheek. I sincerely hoped that this was not a dream. “Then, who am I?”
Heila kneeled down in front of me and strongly held my shoulders. “You are the new generation, Nya. One of those who can change the world. You are a very special girl.”
A heavy load was been lifted from my heart. “One of those…? You mean that… there are others like me?”
She smiled. “Yes there are.”
My eyes shone expectantly. “And where are they?”
Her mischievous stare sent shivers through me. “They are everywhere. And just like there are witches and werewolves, you are all known as Masterminds. But you are uniquely called the Mastermind of Chaos.”
I was left breathless for a moment. “Heila, are you…?
“No, I am not one of you; I am a Writer.”
I frowned. “A writer? So you write books?”
She laughed. “No, I write the world.” She stood up. “You will soon understand. Now come, it’s time for us to go.”
While my mind was still processing this sudden waterfall of information, I absentmindedly held her hand, and we were never to be seen again…
But watch out. Masterminds are everywhere…
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