(Year 9)
CAMBIAMENTO DI FEDE
Stay Calm, Chenilyn. You're doing well so far. Just tell your mother and retreat to your confinement. Inform and retreat; just like we practiced.
But...? Why doesn't he answer me?
I waddled over to a pair of disheveled moccasins, covered with dirt and grime.
"You can see me, right?"
I waved my tiny arms in front of a light-toned, defunct man blisteringly, hoping to discern a tad bit of acknowledgement, but to no avail. His fixed gaze was congruous; so stiff, yet so implacable. Who was he?
Do I perhaps... Know him?
But, I'm sure I haven't seen him before; 'Or have I?' No, I haven't.
"Sir?" I asked coherently; slowly yet steadily, taking steps away from him.
Still no response.
"Sir?"
"This isn't your lawn. I think you've mistaken." I enunciated; trudging backwards, so I can full-on sprint if he ever diverts his gaze. Because, as harmonious as his stare seemed, his nomadic hand movements frightened me. I couldn't be unerringly predestined to know the transient's true intentions. Neither could I see the full length of his feet. He could just leap up to me, and I wouldn't be able to react. So, I had to remain cautious, not just irritable.
"I'm going to call my mom." I announced firmly, tying to instill fear.
Yet, he remained in his graceful scintilla, reading the same book.
Oh, wait. I thought.
Why doesn't he flip to the next page?
He has been reading the same page for over 10 minutes, hasn't he? Why doesn't he move on? Hmph. So, his quivering finger was because of the weight of the book? Not because of some unraveled conspiracy?
Nevertheless, I didn't want to lose sight of him, so I kept goggling at him with my determined eyes, as I retraced my steps back to the house.
He was acting remarkably well: Wasn't he scared?
He's sitting in my lawn, reading a book, when I don't even know him. He seemed peaceful. Peaceful witnessing, what? The book? Me?
'Leave, Mr... Just leave.' I begged silently.
"Nanny..." A silent yelp released itself; calling out for my Nanny.
When no one came, I started protesting:
Oh, where is this woman? "Nan? NAN? NANNN?!" I cried. Where are you?
So, stupid-
Instantaneously, the man lifted his gaze from the book, and then smiled. Not at me? He wasn't smiling at me? At my helplessness, perhaps? And then his eyes dropped back to his book. The same page. Smiling, jovially.
Right, I thought. If I call out for my mother, she's going to barricade my existence once more. What if this person isn't really there? My mother told me not to trust my senses, as it was pertained as jumbled and overly obnoxious. But the doctor did say that if anything proved bothersome for me, I should just inform my over-protective, and narcissistic guardians... So, should I?
Well, OF-COURSE.