The Sadian Chronicles: Book One: Broken Candle

Wonderland: Part 1

This is a picture of Marianna's family. She is shown with her parents, Roland Faigon and Josephine Marx Faigon. Art created by Will Davis.

Chapter One: Wonderland

As far back as I can remember, I was never truly young, and even as a small child, I was always clouded by worry. This I found to be my first advantage over
humanity. It was an asset just waiting to be utilized, but the understanding came with age was born into me from the very beginning. Perhaps, this was the reason I felt myself to be very old.

I was regressing and felt myself going back. I heard my mother calling. Oh, how I loved to hear the sweet voice of Josephine Marx. She always referred to herself by that name as long as I had known her. Marriage had not cooled her sense of independence.

"Mary, it is time to come in now," she called to me from the back entrance of our home. Her voice to me sounded like a singing bird inspired by its muse. "Mary," she said once again.

"Yes, Mother," I said.

As I approached the deck, my mother's face had gone wild with fright seeing my mud-caked body.

"Mary, what have you done to yourself?" She scolded as she looked me up and down Taking my hand, she said, "Come inside and get cleaned up. Your father is on his way back from the airport this very minute."

"Who's coming, Mother?" I asked, jumping up and down.

"It's a surprise," was all she would say. "Now, you go up with Anna and take your bath and put on some clean clothes."

"Mother, please, tell," I pleaded with my dirty palms clasped together in front of me as if I were praying.

"No," she said, pointing her forefinger at me, "now, scat."

"It's Uncle Martin, isn't it?" I took a guess. My mother looked annoyed and that usually meant that I was right.

"How did you know that?" she asked, but I just gave her a coy look without saying anything. She took a deep breath, realizing her defeat in keeping the surprise. "Well, young lady, if you don't get upstairs right now and get cleaned up, you are going to miss his visit altogether." I threw her a sour look as she pointed to the staircase.

"Stop the lecture, Mother. I'm going." I stumbled up the steps a bit over-dramatically. Anna was waiting for me at the top.

It made me laugh to think how I could always drive my mother crazy with my relentless procrastination. Father always said it was a trait all genius children carried, and Roland Faigon happened to be an expert in the field, like every other piece of knowledge he shared. I was never one to question my father. His words always spoke like gospel to me that left my debating skills to my bouts with Mother.

When I reached Anna at the top of the stairs, there was a look of apprehension clouding her expression. "Oh, dear child, what have you done to yourself?" She took my hand and dragged me into the bathroom. "Come, now," she said. "A clean child is a healthy child."

I would have laughed at her untruth if I didn't care so much about her feelings. How many times did I hear at the Institution for Higher Learning that all child geniuses were cold, arrogant and insensitive? True knowledge comes not from superiority, but from the understanding not only of how things work, but most importantly, how things feel. So, that assessment proved the opposite.

Father would say that my hard shell made me strong but inside lay a soft heart, and so as always Father was right. I looked upon Anna as a second mother even though I didn't understand her obsession with a well-polished surface.

Anna turned on the water testing often for the right temperature. She added some bubble bath and opened the utility cabinet and took out a fresh bar of soap. I slipped out of my clothes and placed them in the small laundry basket that lay near the tub. I stepped into the tub and sat down. The warm water felt so nice, but that was until Anna began her work.

I felt as if Anna was taking off my skin as she vigorously scrubbed me down. When I finally stepped out of the tub, I looked to see that the water was brown.

Anna put a towel around me and instructed me to return to my room to change for dinner. She stayed to clean up my mess. It was something I felt guilty about. Such a bother I was to a sweet lady like Anna although she had never said as much. Lying on my bed, I began to dream about what my life would be like when I became an adult. Father believed me to be one already just a little smaller. At twelve years old I already had completed a full year of high school, but I was drifting and wondered what major I would take when I went to college. It was a toss-up between chemistry and genetic exploration, but school wasn't my major concern.

Sometimes, I felt like I wanted to be a regular girl with a regular life, maybe more like Aurora. She was the orphan girl that Anna cared for.

I wondered what it was like for Aurora. She had no parents; there was no one she could count on, not until Anna took her in. Sometimes I could almost feel what was in her head. It's strange to me how all the typical things that should make up my personality had no effect on who I was.

Drowning in my thoughts I almost didn't hear the knock on my door.
"Come in, Mother," I said, somehow knowing it was her.

She entered, saying, "How did you know it was me?"

"Easy," I said and sat up on my bed. "I know your knock. It sounds like a symphony."

"Really, Mary," she said, laughing. "And in what key?"

"Umm," I said hesitantly. "How about B flat?"

She burst out in laughter and sat next to me on my bed. "Come on, Mary, time to get dressed, something pretty."

"No, Mother," I said with a grown. I hated frilly clothes, and she knew it. "Don't make me wear a dress. Please."

"Mary, now, we don't see your uncle that much," Mother said, trying to reason with me. It seemed Mother always wanted to dressed me up like her own personal baby doll whenever company was over. "We want to make him feel special." She walked over to my closet and sorted through the many dresses that hung in there. Now, put on this lovely pink lace dress."

"I hate lace," I said and folded my hands over my chest. Of all the dresses in my closet it was the one I loathed the most. "Why can't I look natural?"

"Mary, please, don't argue," she said incalm but firm voice. "It isn't natural for little girls to wear jeans and gymshoes." It wasn't an altogether true statement, but it was her own personalbelief. Growing up, she always wore dresses and expected me to do the same.

"It also isn't natural for little girls to attend high school and study science,"I said, challenging her.

"Is this your argument for today, or are you in the midst of building aFrankenstein monster?" my mother said teasingly.

"Maybe," I said and crawled off the bed and to my chestnut dresser thatcontained my casual clothes. "What do you think, Mother?"

I held up my light blue faded jeans and white New York tee shirt Uncle Martinhad sent me for my birthday last month. Since he was our special guess, Ifigured it would honor him more if I wore something he had given me.

"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?" Mother asked, already knowing shehad been defeated.

"Remember, Mother. Defeat is not a loss," I said holding up my finger it theair, waving it about as if I was teaching a class in philosophy. "Never tryingis the true failure." I then folded my hands together standing like the primeand proper lady my mother was trying desperately to turn me into.

"Yes, Mary," she said as put the clothes on my bed and unfolded them. I" seeyou don't need me, but please be downstairs in fifteen minutes."

"All right, Mother," I said and putting up the t-shirt, ready to put it on.

She left my room as I contemplated her words. You don't need me. That couldn't be true. Until I was old and grayand on my death bed, I would always need her. It hurts to hear her say thosewords, although I don't believe she meant them in hate. Mother was many things,but not knowledgeable to what I truly understood. Our parent/child connectionwas limited at best, but I hoped it to grow with my coming maturity. 

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