The Sensitive

by Mary Coffin



  The Sensitive

  Mary Coffin

  Copyright 2012 Mary Coffin

  Electronic Edition

  ISBN 978-0-9858453-0-8

  First edition 2012

  Second edition 2013

  Cover Design Copyright 2013

  by https://DigitalDonna.com

  Electronic Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter 1

  _______________________

  Fynn ran as fast as she could. At least, she thought, faster than the porcupine that was chasing her but it was tenacious for such a small, awkward animal. How can it run so fast?!? She didn’t know but she sure wasn’t going to slow down to figure it out. The thought of those sharp quills piercing her tender skin only made her heart beat faster. Just then, a couple quills shot through the air within an inch of her. The hair on the back of her neck bristled as though it instinctively knew that was a close call. She willed her legs to move faster.

  Taking the bus home from school wasn’t an option anymore. She couldn’t deal with the energy in crowds. She was too sensitive to the harsh vibrations, especially when people were enclosed, jammed together like sardines in a tin can. The vibrations ricocheted inside the bus, buffeting her with punches of invisible energy. It was nauseating. It actually made her puke one time. Unfortunately, it was on the bus driver’s back and he had to drive all the kids home while it oozed down his backside and into his pants. Ever since, when he saw her approach the bus after school, he glared at her with such intensity he might as well have thrown a brick wall in her path. She got the message - he didn’t want her on the bus - but she enjoyed the brief moment when he feared that she might board.

  She felt better in wide open spaces anyway. In most cases, it was easier being around nature and animals than being around people; at least she could breathe. In most cases, that is, if it didn’t involve a porcupine. She never understood why she was so terrified of being quilled but the fear ran deep - like an innate warning screaming at her – Don’t get quilled! Your life depends on it!

  She also couldn’t figure out why porcupines chased her. More perplexing yet was the fact that her mother wasn’t the least bit surprised by it – but Fynn never got an explanation.

  One time, she made a comment to some kids at school and they looked at her like she was an alien. “Porcupines don’t chase people,” was all they said. Then they laughed and walked away. She never brought it up again.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as her feet beat the loamy soil. She knew the way home better than her own thoughts at times. She crossed the empty field across from school and entered the forest of pine and aspen trees. She walked straight for a short distance until she came to the first large boulder which, by the way, is where she encountered the porcupine this time. There she turned right and followed what looked like an old deer trail until she reached the top of the ravine. After skirting the uppermost part of it, she would cross to the next hill and run down its flank, then cross the meadow and she was home.

  She would lose the animal on the downhill flank, where gravity increased her speed. She thought her own legs were short but the porcupine’s legs were way shorter. So how can it run so fast? She stole a quick glance behind after skirting the ravine and saw the rodent was gaining. This is ridiculous! It’s got tiny legs! As soon as she had that thought, a couple more quills shot through the air and, without thinking, she dodged left and they penetrated the space where she had just been. This increased her motivation all the more!

  She scrambled down the hill, paying close attention to her footing. The last thing she wanted was to stumble on a loose rock and fall. At the bottom, she turned to look for the porcupine. She had gained ground this time and knew she would make it home but the little rascal was still in pursuit. That was the closest encounter yet!

  Fynn was still breathing hard when she entered the kitchen through the back door. Miss Wiggles sat at the table, drinking a cup of tea.

  “Ran home again today, I see.”

  “Yeah,” Fynn said. She had no intention of saying why.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here, dear. I need to go back to my house for a couple hours. I’ll be back in time to cook supper for you both but if you need me before then, call. I’m just next door.”

  Fynn set her rucksack on the table and headed toward the stairs. “Is she awake?”

  “No. She sleeps most of the day now.”

  The sympathetic look made Fynn want to cry. She fingered a worn dent in the wooden hand railing leading up the stairs to divert her attention. She rubbed this spot often and it fit her finger perfectly, like a built-in worry stone. “I know,” she said. “She needs her rest.”

  Miss Wiggles stood and set her empty cup by the sink. “I’ll be back soon.”

  As her plump form walked to the front door, Fynn couldn’t help but think how suitably Miss Wiggles was named as she watched her body wiggle back and forth with each short step. She didn’t know her very well but they had no family so Miss Wiggles was being neighborly by helping out.

  Fynn continued standing at the railing, now intensely aware of the silence in the house - and the sinking feeling in her gut. Don’t think, don’t worry, she told herself. Those few minutes felt like an eternity but she pulled herself together and went upstairs.

  The bedroom door was open. Curtains fluttered from the soft breeze coming through the window. She tip toed to the bed and quietly climbed in to lie beside her mother. She watched her mother’s chest rise and fall with each shallow breath.

  “It happened again,” she whispered. “I almost got quilled, Mom.” Fynn shuddered at the thought.

  While her mother, Kay, slept, Fynn proceeded to talk about her day. Before Kay got sick, this is what they normally did. When Fynn came home from school, she and her Mom chatted and usually had a snack together – although Fynn wasn’t very hungry these days. Sometimes she would go outside and explore, then did her homework and tried to finish it before dinner. She was sticking with the routine as best she could. It was all she had. It was the only way she knew to deal with it.

  Chapter 2

  _______________________

  Miss Wiggles sat on the edge of the bed and spoon fed soup to Kay, while Fynn and her mother talked. Fynn sat in a chair at the foot of the bed, where Kay could easily see her while they ate together. Her mother looked pale and worn. Fynn could see the life force being sucked right out of her.

  “Did you finish your homework?” asked Kay. Her voice was faint.

  “Uh huh,” replied Fynn as she chewed on some rice and vegetables with thin strips of seaweed. It wasn’t just the vibes of other people that nauseated Fynn, the vibes from eating dead animals also made her sick so she didn’t eat meat. She saw Miss Wiggles cringe when she asked her to include seaweed in her dinner. Heck, it made most people flinch but Fynn couldn’t help it; she liked it. Even though they were far from the ocean, Fynn’s mother had always managed to keep a supply in the house.

  Kay was awake only for brief periods, which were rapidly growing shorter, so Fynn cherished those moments now.

  “I saw a porcupine on my way home from school today.” Since Miss Wiggles had her back to Fynn, she rolled her eyes and scrunched her mouth to let her mother know what really happened.

  Kay gave a slight nod to acknowl
edge Fynn’s meaning. She held up her hand and shook her head to stop the next spoon being offered. “Thank you, no. Would you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

  “Of course,” replied Miss Wiggles. She picked up the tray with the barely eaten bowl of soup and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Kay patted the bed and said, “Come. Sit with me.”

  Fynn put her food down and crawled into bed. Kay struggled but managed to put her arm around her daughter and scanned her body, like she was looking for something in particular.

  “Well, I don’t see any quills in you so you must have outrun it.”

  Fynn smiled. “Yeah.” Barely!

  Her mother’s heart was heavy with sadness and Fynn could feel it. Even though Fynn tried to keep up the pretense that she was handling the current situation well enough, they both knew better. Neither of them actually spoke the words but they both knew...Kay was dying.

  Kay had wanted to live long enough to return home, to Elione, with her daughter. She was hoping her own will power was strong enough to defy the prophecy. Over the years, she had lost touch with herself and had spent too much energy being like the people of this world. She felt she had to do it, for her daughter, in case they never made it home. She tried desperately to help her daughter fit into this world. How foolish of me. Now she realized it was just an excuse for giving up, just like Fynn’s father.

  Her mind had finally resigned itself to the truth. She realized now that she would never make it home. She had no more energy and knew there wasn’t much time left. She needed to use her remaining life force to take care of one last thing so that her daughter and the others, if any were left, had a chance.

  “Fynn, I need for you to get something for me, from the closet. You’ll need the chair to reach it.”

  Fynn crawled out of bed, carried the desk chair over to the closet and stood on it.

  “Up on the shelf. See those things on the right?” Kay pointed with her hand but then let it fall to the bed in exhaustion. “Move them away from the wall.”

  Fynn did as she was told.

  “Now touch the wall next to the shelf. Just press the wall slightly and let go.”

  A small square section popped open to reveal a hidden compartment.

  “Can you reach inside?” asked Kay. “There’s a small box. I need you to bring it here.”

  Fynn reached and couldn’t feel anything. As she moved her hand back and forth, the tip of her finger finally brushed against something. She stood on tip toes to reach farther and pulled the box out.

  The box was old, made of thin wood with two tiny hinges that raised a flimsy lid. At one time, it must have been the color of ivory with gold and brown designs but it had yellowed over time. Fynn carried it to her mother and crawled back in bed beside her.

  Kay held the box for a few moments and closed her eyes. Fynn could feel her mother’s emotions rising to the surface and saw a tear seep out the corner of her eye and run down her cheek.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  Kay took in a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Fynn. There are things I should have told you long ago. I didn’t realize it would turn out this way.”

  Kay opened the box and took something out that was wrapped in cloth. She held it gently and removed the material. It was a pendant hanging from a chain. In the center was a gold, heart-shaped locket with an intricate design etched on it. Around the perimeter, a layer of fine wire looped and coiled in such a way that made it look like lace. The lace also formed the shape of a heart.

  Hanging from the bottom tip of the lace was a metal triangle, with an inverted triangle over it. In the center of the inverted triangle was a small cobalt blue stone.

  “Wow,” breathed Fynn. “It looks ancient.”

  “You have no idea,” said Kay who gently opened the locket. Inside were old pictures: Kay on one side and Fynn’s father, Sully, on the other. Fynn recognized her father only because of other pictures she had seen. He died when she was young and she previously admitted to her mother that she didn’t remember him. Her mother assured her that they both had the same deep blue eyes and shared the trait of wrinkling their noses when something struck them curiously. Otherwise, Fynn had her mother’s long brown hair and petite physique.

  Kay was already awake longer than her energy could sustain. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow. After a moment, she raised her head and folded the necklace back in the fabric. She reached into the box and pulled out a piece of paper, which she tenderly unfolded. It contained handwriting.

  “Your father wrote this out...so that we wouldn’t forget...” She spoke faintly, recalling the memory of him sitting at his desk, writing diligently as though the very words on paper would force it to happen. “But he quit believing...and now...”

  Fynn noticed the slight shake of her mother’s head, as though she felt remorse over how events turned out. Kay set both items back in the box and closed the lid. Her face was paler than before and the shadows underneath her eyes seemed darker.

  “Fynn, I need to sleep.” She handed the box to her daughter. “You must keep this now. Keep it safe and keep it hidden. If you have to wear the necklace under your clothes, then do so - but carefully. Promise.”

  Fynn looked into her mother’s eyes and knew there wasn’t much life left. She couldn’t bear the thought of being without her. She had been her best friend – her only friend. She wanted to cry but knew she had to be strong, for her mother...for herself. “I promise.”

  It looked like a weight had been lifted from Kay’s shoulders. Fynn couldn’t help but wonder why the contents of the box were so important but her mother was struggling to stay awake and she didn’t want to push her too far. She would ask later.

  “We’ve always talked about how things happen when it’s the right time for them to happen, yes?” asked Kay.

  Fynn nodded her head.

  “You need to trust that more than ever now. Trust that what plays out in your life from this moment forward is precisely how it is supposed to be.” Her head fell back to the pillow in exhaustion. “Keep the necklace with you. You’ll need it.”

  Kay couldn’t find the right words to explain everything and her energy was fading. She waited too long to tell her daughter; she knew that now. She had to trust that the right events would unfold for Fynn, in spite of her own questionable choices. The Gädweg, the source of all life, would prevail.

  She knew that Fynn didn’t fit in well with others, even though she had asked Fynn to try. Kay now realized that it was an injustice to keep the truth from her daughter; she should have explained why it was hard to fit in...because they aren’t from here.

  Fynn was incredibly sensitive to energy, to vibrations, to the forces around her. In hindsight, Kay recognized that it would have been better for Fynn had she spent the time teaching her daughter how to improve that awareness in the right way. She didn’t demean her daughter’s keenness, but she didn’t nurture it either. Instead, she focused on helping her daughter get along in this world rather than prepare her for returning to their world.

  Over the years, she had observed an inner strength in Fynn and had admired how it came out, in spite of not knowing her true identity. Kay had to trust that strength now and prayed that it would surpass what was to come. It had better. That was Kay’s last thought as she drifted into a deep slumber, one from which she would not wake.

  Chapter 3

  _______________________

  Later that evening, after Miss Wiggles tucked her into bed and retreated to the guest bedroom for the night, Fynn turned on the light beside her bed. She opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the box her mother gave her.

  With slender fingers, she opened it like it was a sacred artifact that had just been unearthed. She gently removed the cloth from the necklace and admired the elaborate wire work and the design etched on the locket itself. She s
tudied the pictures of her mother and father inside. She couldn’t recall exactly how her father died but thought he was ill – like her mother.

  She rewrapped the necklace and set it aside. Next, she took out the paper with the handwriting. She read the first few lines and realized it was a poem.

  Out of the earthly crust does rise,

  The mystical mountain of the skies.

  Hard as one tries to see it clear,

  For the weak heart it won’t appear.

  Shrouded in mist of secrecy,

  Its entrance is hidden from all to see.

  No thief, no warrior, no princess kind,

  No beggar or sorcerer, the path can find.

  If pure of heart and receptive are thee,

  To the humble one with sincerity,

  The path to the Wærs will come and alight,

  The way for the seeker who has the sight.

  The mist will recede most gracefully,

  And the mountain will gently call to thee.

  Be cautioned, for two calls there will be.

  The first one, ye should wisely take heed,

  For the way there is a short pursuit,

  If ye come home by way of the flute.

  The second call, as sure as it be,

  Will take much more of one’s energy.

  For by then one’s power will be much less,

  Since one lingered and toyed with the frivolous.

  Oh be not dismayed,

  For tests there will be along the way.

  Be brave and bold and do not forget,

  The most important part of this yet.

  Try as one might to go it alone,

  Dangers and pitfalls would be one’s own.

  But for the pure of heart, a guide there must be,

  To show one the way most assuredly.

  Fynn studied the words but couldn’t grasp their meaning. She wondered what these words were supposed to help her mother and father remember. She read it again. What are Wærs? She hoped that somehow its meaning would become clear. As she read, she did notice one thing in particular. A strange sensation swept through her body. There was a new energy coursing through her veins and her body tingled. It was a pleasant sensation but it also made her feel even less tired.