The Outsiders Keepers

Locked

Human spirit is the ability to face the uncertainty of the future with curiosity and optimism. It is the belief that problems can be solved, differences resolved. It is a type of confidence. And it is fragile. It can be blackened by fear and superstition.

~Bernard Beckett

I was never a big believer in superstitions.

I was never a big believer that there was anything outside the fence either.

But natural curiosity is my one enemy.

And intelligence is my weapon.

                                                         

I

          I’ll never forget the first time my mother caught me with a book. She snatched it from my hands, and put it back in the trunk where I found it in the closet. She didn’t utter a word the first time.

            The second time she caught me, she had a look of disappointment on her face. It was like she thought I would know better. All she did was the same thing; take the book, put it back in the trunk in the closet. Not a word spoken to me.

            The third occurrence happened about two weeks ago, and this time, my mother snatched the book, lead me out of the closet to my room and she shut the door.

            I was expecting her to break. I was expecting her to yell and scold at me for breaking the rules – but that was the problem. I know what I’m doing wrong; but something inside me doesn’t want to stop.

            My mother sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She took my hands in hers, wiping a piece of my muddy brown hair from my eyes, and stared right into the emerald gems in my skull. I looked down at my slightly pale skin and stubbed finger nails.

            My mother lifted my chin so I would look her dead in the eye. Then, she placed the book in my hands. She pressed a finger to her lips, as I could imagine my eyes were lighting up with excitement.

            “Elena, everyone deserves a little enjoyment.” She said to me, and I was surprised at first. I never heard her voice so gentle. If my father caught me… well it would have been a whole other story.

            Reading has been abandoned for a long time. My father taught me that at a young age. There was still a small group of people who read in secret, and no one ever found them or found out where they were. If you were caught reading, everyone had to shun you. Reading meant you were different, and you were capable of things that made other people fear you.

            “It’s a matter of order and control.” My father told me when I asked him about it. He told me they banned reading because we were a “community of unity” as he would add with a slight chuckle, meaning we had no reason to be different.