An Alluring Fabrication

The Giant Mouse

Spring always had a hidden power of resurrecting the dead. I searched through the many blooming plants that had once been nothing but brown twigs in the frozen dirt. There were so many colours; red, pink, light and dark blue, white, beige, orange, purple; but not yellow. Never yellow. Mother loved her garden and, much like myself, Spring was always her favourite season. Mothers flowers held symbolism and meaning. She once told me that yellow meant happiness, joy, optimism; but to her it meant betrayal. I never understood how such a well-cared-for woman could hold such pessimistic thoughts. I most definitely did not get that from her.

I continued my search, watching as the many colours blurred and buzzed about with the wind. I looked to the Forbidden Forest. Mother had told me to never venture down the old dirt path that leads into the dense green of our ever-expanding land. Something about construction and danger. Mother never told me green was a sign of danger.

Slowly, I walked towards the dirt path, covered in last Autumn's leaves. Something about the colour green called for me. Green; a colour of health, good luck, renewal. I liked the colour green. The dried up piles of brown crunched under my heavy boots. The rain had been relentless lately, but nature needed it. I looked down the dirt path, into the depth of the forest. Green and brown never looked good unless it was from the Earth itself. A hand landed on my shoulder, turning me roughly.

"How many times must I tell you, Magnolia? Never venture into the forest." Mother was not happy. She was never happy, unless in her garden. "I will have a talk to your father later, clearly you can not follow simple instructions." Mother muttered something under her breath. Most likely a degrading insult. I had no care for her silent words, turning back towards the forest. The forest called for me. I could feel it. Gentle, calming, nurturing. "Come now you stupid child, The Doctor is here to see you."

The darkness of the house suddenly engulfed me as I was pushed onto one of the dining room chairs. Not the nice ones we used for guests and parties. Instead of beautiful white and gold, it was brown and wet. Always wet. How can an object be wet when it never leaves the cover of the four walls that imprisoned it? It was hard, not cushioned by a beautifully fluffed woolsack. I hated such boring objects. No colour, no meaning. Just brown and wet.

"Magnolia, how have you been?" From the shadows, a mouse appeared. A giant mouse. Mother referred to it as The Doctor. It was as if she couldn't see the bizarre beast before her. Maybe it was normal for her. "Have you been hearing or seeing things no one else can see or hear?" The Giant Mouse always asked these questions, but I could never answer. What can anyone else see? What can they hear? I shook my head. The Giant Mouse twitched its nose. Observing. That's what a Mouse symbolised. Scrutiny.

Whispers in the dark. The Giant Mouse was gone, replaced with the eternal darkness. "I believe she is getting worse." Sick. That's what they called me. I don't know what I'm sick with, but it had been months, years. "Is there another test you can perform? A cure? A solution? Anything?" Test after test. Question after question. Wordless answers. "Ma'am I've tried everything." What was I sick with? I hadn't read of a disease that invades the body as long as mine had. No symptoms had been identified. No illness needed the same question over and over. "Well can't you lock her up?" It must be contagious. Quarantine was always necessary for contagious diseases. But it had been years? "We can't do anything until she's diagnosed. Diagnoses can only happen when she turns of age. You know this Mrs Stewart." Of age. A constant statement that furthered my confusion. What illness needed to be justified by age? Maybe a new illness that wasn't written in Father's collection of medical literature. Maybe a new illness that had yet to be discovered across our borders.

White. My walls were the only walls that were painted white in the grand mansion we called home. My curtains were the only ones ever letting the sun grace the many objects I had in my room. Yellow. I love the colour yellow. It reminded me to stay happy, live in the joy, be optimistic. The sun always brightened my day. It helped the small flower pot on my window sill flourish and bloom the most beautiful flowers. Yellow flowers.