The Anomalies ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Two: The Dream

“Crouch down low. You are a tiger, creeping through the jungle.” The man in white robes squatted over a blue mat, his black belt trailing on the ground. “You are the hunter, you are silent.”

“I am a tiger.” The little girl muttered, a look of seriousness on her young face, she attempted to crouch on the ground, growling under her breath. As she moved forward she lost her balance and fell forward, landing hard on her stomach.

A lighthearted cackle sounded behind her. The girl sat up and turned sharply towards the old woman sat in an equally old chair, blazing green eyes narrowed as she was laughed at.

“What’s so funny?” She snapped, her high voice squeaking with annoyance.

“My dear, you must listen more carefully. It’s more about balance than anything.” The old woman said kindly, pointing a finger to the battered television, the man now doing a series of chopping hand movements.

The girl huffed and turned away, dark hair swishing over her back. She looked around the room she had been confined in for five years of her life. At a first glance it looked like a normal basement, concrete ceiling, floor and walls, the only light coming from a naked light bulb that constantly swung from the ceiling. A set of wooden stairs headed up to the rest of the house. But there was a bed in the corner wearing faded pink sheets and even pinker pillows. And there was a set of chairs in the other corner surrounding the old television and a large rug taking over the rest of the floor space.

 “Why can’t I go outside and practice? I can balance better if I’m outside.” She said quietly, sitting on the floor and crossing her legs, looking up at the woman.

 “You know you can’t go outside, dear.”

 “But-“

 “No, dear.”

 The scolding tone that entered the woman’s voice ended the conversation. The girl huffed again and looked at the television, the man doing push ups and talking at the same time about ‘core strength’.

“Why do I have to copy the man on the telly?” She asked, picking at the frays in the rug. The old woman looked over her knitting needles, the glare of the television reflecting on her large round glasses.

 “You’re not copying, dear, you’re learning.”

 “But why do I have to learn?”

The old woman chuckled, finishing a row and starting another, not even looking at the dark blue scarf she was making.

“So many questions.” She muttered, shaking her head a little, but the twinkle in her green eyes still glowed. “You have to learn, because it is a part of life. You have to learn to defend yourself.”

 “Why?”

 The knitting paused before starting again, the needles clicking together in a light tune. Another row was finished before her question was answered.

 “Because you’re different, dear. And some people don’t like different.”

 “What people?”

 “Bad people.” The woman glanced away, looking outside the small dirty window in the opposite wall. Another row was finished and she placed the knitting aside, sitting forward and motioning the girl towards her with a gnarled finger. She stood up and walked over, jumping up onto the woman’s lap.

 “But grandma, I’m not different.” She said defensively, fiddling with the old necklace the woman wore.

 “I’m afraid you are dear, and you must be sure to hide it.”

 “Hide what?”

 A wrinkled finger pointed towards the hollow of her neck, where a dark mark showed up against her pale skin. The little girl placed her hand over it. She knew what the mark looked like. She liked to think it was a bird, a bird with very sharp wings and a circle for a head and body.

“Daddy says it’s a birthmark. A special one.” The girl said haughtily, lifting her chin up and crossing her arms.

The woman chuckled again and placed a warm arm around the girl, giving her a light hug.

“You are indeed very special, and we have to keep you a secret from the outside.”

“Why?”

“Because…well, that’s something you’ll know when you’re older.”

“But-“

“How’s my tiger doing?” A light voice filtered down the wooden steps, followed by even lighter footsteps.

“Mummy!” The girl giggled, running towards the stairs. She waited at the bottom as the woman made her way down, the light behind her casting her face in shadow.

A sudden explosion sounded from above, making the basement shudder. The woman ran back up the stairs, shutting the door behind her, a sound of a lock clicking into place.

“This way, dear.” The old lady’s voice was eerily calm as she took the girls hand and took her to the end of the room, picking up her knitting on the way. Voices screamed and shouted from above, another explosion rocked the basement.

The woman went behind the bed and pushed it to the side, revealing a small trapdoor, she opened it and pushed the girl inside, forcing her into the dark tunnel that stretched ahead, following her with speed that didn’t fit her ancient age. Voices still echoed around them, but no more explosions went off. Soon enough, the little girl reached the end of the tunnel, where another wooden door stopped their advancement.

“Open the door, dear.” The woman’s calm voice ordered.

The girl pushed open the door, having to put all her weight into it so it would open. Light streamed in from the opening and she squinted her eyes shut as she moved forward. Suddenly, she was crawling on grass and she opened her eyes and realized she was outside. Outside! She would have giggled with delight if it wasn’t for all the screaming and shouting from the house.

“Grandma, what’s happening?” She whispered, green eyes wide with fright.

The old woman didn’t answer; she just wrapped the half-finished scarf around the girls’ neck and grasped her hand, swiftly moving towards the deserted backfields behind the group of houses that were surrounding them. As they reached the field the girl looked back once, stumbling over the uneven ground as the woman pulled her along with a hand that grasped hers like iron.

Smoke billowed out of the house and men in black armor were swarming around it like ants. The screaming continued, but one word was said before gunshots sounded. A name. Her name.

“MACKENZIE!”