I was born the youngest of eight, forty-seven and a half years ago. A girl with three sisters and four brothers I spent most of my childhood thinking that if my mother had had any sense at all she should never have had me. From my earliest memories, I wondered at my own sanity. Looking up through the bars of my crib and being comforted by a beautiful woman in victorian dress who glowed white like the moon. Any sensible person would say I must have dreamed the whole thing. Who remembers anything from when they slept in a crib? I called her Luna for her light was as bright as the moon. I liked to believe it was real and that she was my guardian angel.
From what my older siblings told me, I needed a guardian angel. One of my older brothers was a terror to my siblings and mother. It is possible he tried to kill me twice. I have been told he murdered stray cats in a torturous manner, and enjoyed it. When I was less than six months old, he shot himself. For many years my mother insisted it was an accident. It took a long time for her to accept that it was suicide, and even longer for her to speak of guilt. He had been my father’s favorite son and only recently she told me that my father had blamed her.
I don’t blame her but I often wondered if both his violent nature and his death mightn’t have had anything to do with the floating heads that haunted me in the dark at night in that old house. Unlike my guardian angel, the floating heads scared me. They looked angry and their faces were dark and distorted. When I looked at them my mind filled with unsettling, even violent, thoughts. Was it possible my late brother had seen and heard them?
I would close my eyes against them and pray for Luna to protect me. Eventually I stopped seeing them and have rarely seen a ghost while I was awake since. I do dream about them though, dead people, all the time. They come to me, ask my help and I help them. Most of the time there is no clear connection to my waking life. For years I was more convinced that the dreams were just dreams. But then I noticed how often stuff the dead told me in my dreams actually happened.
Now I wonder if, among other things, I wasn’t born to stop my older brother from killing cats. It’s a terrible thing to be cruel to animals and I am definitely not the type of person who would listen to them scream without doing everything in my power to stop it.
(727 days to go)