True Colors

Chapter 5
If ever a death could be hopeful, he was hopeful for a sudden change of events, a very sudden change indeed and he did not no what why he held on to this sort of Hope but he hoped tenaciously that her life would be spared. Why spare her? What made her so special her an exception? Special was not the right word, really she was a true gem and from their first conversation it has made it clear to him, she was not the ordinary type of human. Firstly she could see him without any trouble, she knew things he was not even able to acknowledge out loud, things he didn't even dare speak of even to Albert. He heard her voice nearly whisper these private pieces of information, without a word being spoken between them. Her lips had not moved and he had no lips in which to move any way. People just didn't do that. Why even Wizards didn't do that! Wizards wouldn't have dared because most wizard were concerned about themselves. Wizards could see him without much trouble, they even were more distant and cautious than ever and he knew their thoughts and their worries their fears and major concerns besides themselves. They wanted to keep alive they didn't want to die just yet and they had business to attend to; business meaning swindling mankind and taking advantage of innocent people with a flash of light and a bit of smoke and a few riculously, complicated, sounding words, that was supposed to help the poor soul. Some cases the individual, who walked out of the Wizards house was very poor either poor in riches or an understanding, the poor individual would at times end up poorer than before after all money was required for the services of a wizard.The words of a wizard rarely of course ever helped, they reassured and nothing more and the poor person was worse off than when they first arrived to the Wizard's doorstep. It was all just a bunch of hocus-pocus and tomfoolery that no one benefitted from except the wizard who received his ill earned wages. No not all wizards  were like there were a few that were honest but most were no good and that was life. She wasn't a wizard.Women did not become Wizards. It was against tradition and some unwritten law the Unseen academicals had made up some centuries before. The real reason and truth of it was because they would be a whole lot better than they were at the practice than men, so they forbade women to become Wizards. She was no witch either. She had no broom, no wand and no magical equipment on her whatsoever. Then what was she? He detected no fear, only a slight tinge of worry, for she had wanted to get back to her home no doubt he reflected to himself. Maybe the slim diary he had found would answer some of his questions and curiosities. When in doubt read a book. He knew he could always rely on books.Books could always clear his mind. Last he had left her, she was wandering, the streets of Ankh, just as he had predicted she would do.
So it read:I am alone here incredibly alone in a world I do not belong I cannot stay here but I have no idea idea how I will return I usually never do. Before I could Escape because it was only a story all I had to do was put the book down and come back to reality. Then it became, that these stories were real, they came alive ,I was in their midst right, smack-dab in the middle of the story. So now this is my new reality I must be patient maybe if I wait it out and let the story unfold, I may return to my home I returned that way when i went to oz. This story is uncertain I can't say what time I'm in. Death has no assistant that I can see. Only Albert as always;there is no Mort,which means either he has not come into the story yet or he's already come and gone. I guess he's already gone. Why else would he be so sad? Perhaps he always is that way after all he is loneliness as he said so himself. Now I'm beginning to feel the same infinite loneliness, in moments like these I wish i had spoken with him a little longer. Maybe he could have helped me but I doubt it. He seemed just as puzzled as I was he was. He was even more confused when I projected my voice secretly to him and he seemed quite fascinated in me and I in him. I wonder what mother would think of him. She'd probably be horrified ,disgusted by him. Not me I'm different. I'm a rebel. I'm not perfect like my older brother. He doesn't mean to be perfect, he just always is in my parents eyes. I'm just a problem a disaster waiting to happen explosion waiting to hit a volcano waiting to burst. So this is just like being at home except it's worse. At least my parents knew my name and remembered who I was from moment to moment. Here no one knows my name no one but death and that cannot be a good sign. No one can see me either all except for the reaper man he sees everyone all the outcasts and the Invisibles in this world like me. Sometimes he even defends them, that might be because he is a outcast too. No one sees him either, no one wants to see him. I don't mind seeing him. See I've seen him so many times in my mind,appearing in my dreams at night and playing back within my fantasies. I'm really not unstable, I'm not sick I just have an incredibly, large imagination and I like to use it on a regular basis. He sure does not keep me up at night and he doesn't keep me from living my life. He doesn't keep me from anything; he's just part of one big, fat, fantasy dreamed up by Terry Pratchett called Discworld! Yes he invented it and my mother was always rather fond of this Discworld for some reason so I naturally fell in love with it, though father never approved, he tolerated my fascination of Discworld for the sake of my mother. I know some people often wonder if they're adopted, there was no doubt that I was part of this family, the Gloriana family. Though I wished that I could be otherwise the fact still remained this was my family whether I liked it or not. I always imagine there was some great secret between father and mother but they did not care to share with my brother and I but that was just another fantasy of mine. Mother always possessed a pure spirit, the gentle spirit of God as my father called it. The most treasured spirit in all the world, he told me and I only wished I had it especially now. Father said all women should have a gentle spirit. Did he mean that a gentle spirit is the same as the Holy Spirit or is that gentle spirit a separate thing altogether? Though my father was religious, he was not the preaching type and father was never one to explain and if father didn't elaborate sometimes often mother would. I often wondered after she had filled in the blanks for me what mother saw in him! What did she see in him? What was the big secret and when would the big reveal come out into the open as long last? Mother it's so kind so perfect so delicate and so effortlessly beautiful. Father must have obviously seen something significant. He obviously saw the inner beauty as well but how he had won her heart, I had no idea. I never been told the story of their first meeting. Mother was probably too proper to tell me any stories about their first kiss, their first date and father was far too silent to talk about the first of anything.If father didn't say it, it's like it never existed, if father doesn't like something, nobody in the house does. If father isn't happy,nobody in the house was happy. Yes he is definitely the leader of his household. He rules everyone and everything in it and he has been under the strange notion that he can rule my life as well and for a while I have I have let him only because he was my father and my sole provider, who deserves my respect. He must have been quite flustered when I became an adult because that meant he could no longer control me as he had before and I don't see how he could think that he can control me now. Now he has no power over me! With all this freedom I have no home no name and absolutely no friends or allies. Friends, I never had many of those before either, my only friend was my brother Mycroft. He understood me, he believed in me, best of all he actually loved me. We would laugh at all my jokes no matter how lame and he listened to all my stories no matter how crazy. He knew I was special ,not a freak as my father saw me. Mother bless her soul, just didn't know how to cope with such a challenged child as I. Mycroft was gifted but he had so much more control over his abilities. so you can see why both my parents favored him best. So they left me in the shadows with my books. I relished my isolation at first but soon, it became a misery, a irksome endless loneliness. So I'm no stranger to loneliness and when my brother went away, I delved deeper into my books. I escaped more often to their worlds. I would always come back to my own world afterward. I was never gone for long, but no one believes me except Mycroft. I actually went worlds away for real. I've done this before this isn't the first time. The real challenge is always getting back to my own world. I don't have to read the book out loud like in Corneila Funke's Inkheart. I just have to hold it in my hands and close my eyes, when I open them I'll be there not only inside the book but I'll be part of the very story.