çekimser kalmak
The girl had been called many names, and was she any of them? The one with the WUH WUH everyone feared. It had a terrible guttural sound and struck in the lower belly. It’s where the snake lives, her grandmother said; people have been afraid of serpents for centuries. The girl placed her hands on the abdomen and felt it growl. Who’s hungry? What are you feeding?
None of the names given to the girl stuck. The taunting lasted a few days before the kids became bored. The girl never engaged. It was better to remain coiled and silent and wait to strike. Her grandmother taught her the trick of spinning light in her hands. No one can see it except for you. Why not? The girl asked. Because they don’t know what they’re looking for; most people don’t know that there is a question waiting to be asked. It’s like waiting for a worm to be roused from the dirt, it takes a heavy rain to tease it from the damp ground.
As the kids teased the girl, she wove long purple braids of light from her fingers and spun them around her body. It is your auric field, Grandmother said. She’d whispered it from pale lips. Many teeth were missing. She hissed softly as her spirit left her body. The girl did not cry; she knew what to do. As the last breath spiralled into the candlelit room, the girl opened her mouth and sang the blessing she learned from her heart. She did not know the words or where they came from. They were like the many names she was called, arriving when needed and disappearing just as swiftly.
The blue ring on the old woman’s finger was removed, placed on a chain where it hung from the girl's neck. It bounced at her breastbone and caused a little purple bruise on the girl's sternum. She did not complain. Some things are better left unspoken.
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