Mystic Mary

The genesis

My name is Mary and this book is not just about me, well a lot of the pages tell stories about my life and how I got to the crossroads of where I am today. It gives sense to why I am standing at the edge of a bridge ready to throw myself down into the waters at the slightest whisper of the wind putting an end to all of it. But this book also tells a story about another world, a world I doubt you might have heard about. I completely trust it’s citizens to keep the secrets about the world under wraps. Keeping the secret of our existences is the first rule we have in our books and to some, the most important rule. Many times over the years I have heard them say that a person can break any other rule in the commandments of my people but breaking the rule of non disclosure was the worst of all sins and it’s consequence, banishment.

This I later learnt was a lie and just one of those stories that were told to young Arandias in other to keep them in check as they grew up just to discourage sharing the existence of the Kingdom of Arandia to the people of the human world.

How did I know this?

I was a living proof, well my father was a living proof as he was very much a citizen of the kingdom of Arandia even after committing not just the sin of disclosure but far more, the sin of outbreeding. Outbreeding was when a magical creature makes a baby with a human. I had later learned that rules could be broken with ease when you are high up in the society’s food chain, a similarity Arandias shared with my world- the world of the human people. Yes, I am from the world of the human people, well my mum was and……

“Mary!!”

“Get your fingers out of your mouth” my mum yelled as she looked at me through her rare mirror and watched me bite my nails again . I was lost and engrossed in the process and I had forgotten she had warned me to stop biting my nails due to health reasons. She told me stories of how easy germs could get into my body from under my nails every time but that didn’t stop me. My mother was a doctor and caring about everyone but herself was what she was known for, that might have been how she meet my dad as it wasn’t everyday magical creatures cross path with humans. The times they did, most did not live to tell the story.

I was just six years old as at that time and all I knew was that my nails tasted like ice chips, like the tiny ones I would always steal from the ice cube maker in the freezer and drop into my mouth during the heat flush. I had told no one about the fact that my nails tasted like ice chips to me as the first time I had said it at school everyone laughed making me so embarrassed.

The incident with fellow human children laughing at me at school might not have closed me up to bringing up the idea of the taste of my nails, but another incident did. It was an open day session at my school, a day set aside when parents were invited to the school to ask questions about our academic performance. My literature teacher had told my mother that I would perfect my reading and writing skills if only I stop biting my nails in class. I personally felt it was too much for her to say as she had only seen me biting my nails once in class. That happened when a really boring poem from the Romeo and Juliet novel by was been read. I was just six years old of course I found Shakespeare boring and complex, it didn’t mean the nails biting hindered my progress at school. Her method of teaching in fact did hinder my progress in reading and writing. The next day she was hit by a car on her way to school and I convinced myself I had nothing to do with it while ripping to pieces the drawing I had of her in a pool of blood.

I quickly withdraw my fingers from my mouth and clasp them together resisting the urge to place them in the mouth again. I sat down in the car seat buckled tightly into it even though I had said I do not need to be buckled up severally to my mother as I was six years old and perfectly able to sit on a regular car seat with belts on it.

My mother was not only a doctor but the most paranoid doctor I had ever met. After some years I realized that she had reason to be paranoid but at that time I saw my mother as one who was always preparing for emergency situations at all times . It was as though she was preparing for something to happen to us at all times. We had an escape bag which she hid in our closet which had both our passports and a ton of cash at least fifty thousand dollars judging by the weight. In mother’s plans if there comes a time we would need to run all we need is already packed in one bag which would safe us the time.

We were moving for the second time this year, I did think we would stay longer this time around but mother had other plans. She had gotten home from work a little shaken, I always knew when it was time for us to move again because the glow in her eyes would quickly melts into tears and she would barely be able to keep her hands steady.

Over the years our house was never really set up and most of our things were gotten from a box, this made moving quite easy and in just a few hours we were ready and the moving company was at our house to move us to a new city. This was the pattern we had as I could remember.

We move from a city to the next, spend a few weeks in a hotel till mother finds a house and a few more weeks for her to carry out her “cleansing”. It was the “cleansing” she did that let us stay for more than a year in a particular city as their was a time we stayed only two months in a city just after moving. I heard mother say over the phone one day that it was because the house has not been properly cleansed that was why they found us.

“Who found us?” I always asked myself.

I never went to regular schools at that time as the moving didn’t give us a chance to consider finding a good school district let alone enroll in the school. I was home schooled for years and mother managed to juggle the two as she walked as a travel doctor and was able to get a job with flexible hours in any city we decide to reside in.

I had a really vague image of my dad as I had seen him on just two occasions that I could remember. The first memory I have of him was when mother took me to a park to play with other human children and a stranger picked up my ball. I was daring enough to walk towards him and stretch forth my hand request for my ball with just actions as words failed me. I saw mum run towards me immediately and lift me off the ground. After a few conversations between my mum and the stranger she let him hold me for a moment and we shared a smile. It was obvious from her facial expression that she detested him getting to hold me and I sensed it soon enough and began to cry and stretch my hands for her to receive.

Immediately we got home mother decided it was time for us to move again. She kept saying phrases like “they would find us”. The second time I had experienced my Dad was at school. I knew he was the one with his weird dress sense which comprised of only black clothings and a black hat. He walked up to me at school on the playground and I had a weird feeling that only me could see him as I was the only one who looked fascinated by him. He smiled at me and patted me on my head with his heavy yet soft hands and whispered “you are definitely one of us”. One of who? I thought. I kept this to myself as I knew my paranoid mother would make us move again once she heard I saw the stranger again.

Just as my mother had promised the first day we moved to this small city in the heart of California and as she watched me with my tiny arms carry the rest of the boxes to my room that we were not going to move again she did keep her promise. Well for a while but longer than before as I haven’t seen her with shaky hands in ten years not until this morning when the letter came in the mail to the house with my name written in blood.

“MARY BELONGS WITH US”