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06-11-2013, 02:37 PM
 “Magic is difficult to explain…” I can’t refrain from how my brows narrow together, as if I’m contemplating for deeper understanding. But what I was really thinking was, “Why did magic have to be difficult?” “It…allows one to do many things- things most of us can’t do. You speak into my mind, but I can’t do the same. That’s…very special, don’t you think?” the woman explains her version of magic. Something special, unique? I frown and wonder if I was really so unique that others would find my talents to be frightening. Why couldn’t everyone speak without words? Softly I answer her first question with a statement, and a question of my own, “I don’t want to be special.” The confession is without tremor of fear or shame, it was simply a fact of life; children wanted to be like their mentors and idols. I didn’t want to speak with friends only to have them flee from my presence…”Why can’t you talk the way I do?” Momma had also been pressed with the same inquire, she had said something along the lines of, ‘you are different, special.’ Just as this one had said. Up till now there hadn’t been a reason to dislike my differences; yet, with each foul meeting—would I grow insecure in my physical self? “Can you not speak aloud?” Aloud? No, I thought; that was one thing I could do. My lips would never part with a voice planted between them, “I….speak through the mind only.” Slowly the cracks that separate a muzzle part, they are empty of sound; even as I push air through the holes to demonstrate. It comes out as a foggy gasp, filling the air with vapor mist. |
