The Veil Of Time「 The Veil Trilogy Part Ⅰ 」✔

[01] The Magical Weirdo

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in the wrong place where you shouldn't have been? Or maybe like you don't exactly belong where you're currently in?

That has been the case for me ever since I opened my eyes to this world.

I'm Katerina Tereshkova, or Kat for short. So to begin with, I'll tell you a bit about myself. I'm fourteen, I have blonde hair and weird green eyes. Well... I don't think they're weird but people say that my eyes are kinda off putting and that it gives them the creeps.

Honestly, I don't care anymore since everything about me gives them the creeps.

You could say I'm tall for my age and perhaps I look a bit more mature than I really am. Well don't get me wrong but I can't do anything about my genes, right? And I live in an asylum.

Yes, you heard me right; an asylum. Oh, you know the place where people who are a bit abnormal are hoarded in...? Yeah, that kind of asylum.

I didn't always live there though. When I was little, I lived with Mum and Dad but now that I've grown up, I guess they don't want me around anymore. Still, I don't blame them because honestly, it's not their fault.

Weird things happen around me all the time and for some reason, the people who have seen these things happen stay away from me as if I am possessed or something like that.

Oh please now don't run away from here, trust me I don't bite. But yeah that's the reaction of nearly every person I meet. So I won't be surprised if you run off screaming too.

And I bet you will when I tell you this...

I can do magic.

No, really, I can. Stop laughing now. I can honestly do magic. I can make things fly and nearly every time random objects explode around me. And you know what the most amazing part of all this magic is?

I can create small bursts of fire that I like to call fireworks.

The first time it happened was when I was eight. Mum got too scared that she locked me in the attic fearing that I would set her on fire. The next time it happened I actually set the tablecloth on fire but it wasn't my fault completely. I mean the checkered design on it looked so horrible so yeah it just happened. Dad had to call the priests to exorcize me after that, I even heard some neighbors say I was a demon's reincarnation or something like that.

And once in school, I had turned my teacher's coffee cup into a frog. The consequences that rose from me afterward weren't enjoyable, though the rest of the students' reactions surely had been hilarious.

Sometimes I think maybe the reason my parents dumped me in here is also that they got tired of my never-ending antics. But the sad truth is that life in an asylum doesn't have any perks.

The place where I spend most of my time is a white room with white walls, no windows, and just a straight white mattress to sleep on. Everything here is just plain white.

Even the doctors.

They wear long white coats and it's a relief they don't come to see me often. Maybe they're scared of me too? Well, who knows?

And even worse; I don't have any friends. All the people here are very antisocial to me and vice versa. I get ignored and forgotten nearly everywhere I go and there's not much place to wander around here either.

It's not like we're allowed to leave our rooms freely anyway.

And when for days you get nothing new or different to see, like me, you can also get quite angry.

For me, those times are the worst. Those are the times when I get scared of myself. When I start believing that maybe I really am out of my mind.

The asylum people lock me in the dungeons then. They bind me up with metallic chains to the cold stone wall. And they leave me there for days. Starving and screaming. Utterly helpless.

But enough of the drama, I know you wouldn't like to hear about it. You would prefer to know the good parts, right? Okay then.

Do you know that I'm an artist? Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you before. I love drawing, painting, and music. I love all kinds of art. And my favorite color is red. Flaming red. The thing I draw most is a blazing red fire with orangish flames.

The head doctor here says that I have a conflicted mind with the tendency to cause harm and that's the reason she gives to my habit of sketching fires. 

Oh, but I don't think so. I draw fire because I like it, not because I feel like burning someone with it. No, not at all even though some past incidents might make people think otherwise.

But sometimes when I start to think about the world and my own life; I really do want to get out of here. I want to be free. I don't want to spend my whole life being distant from the beautiful colorful world with amazing pleasantries. I don't want to be cooped up in here forever.

I wish I could rise like the sun does in the morning. I wish I could go out and explore. I wish people would stop getting scared of me and try to be friendly towards me instead of running away and screaming their heads off.

I don't want to be labeled as a psycho in an asylum forever. I want to live. Because I know we won't get the chance of life again. And I don't want to waste my chance. No way.

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