With all the buzz I had not had the time yet to read her mind, to see its wonders, hopes and dreams.
Ever since I was a child of just five years, I have been able to read minds. It is not like the movies show it, not at all; it is like… playing a video game, so very immersive. It’s as if I am really there, in people's minds.
Opposite to what you might think, adults are really boring to read. Now, children on the other hand, they are phenomenal. They are not weighed down with work, taxes, university, deep personal problems or stress. Their minds are filled with the wonder of the world, and are rich in imagination. This is a big reason of why I became a kindergarten teacher.
I feel a tug on the hem of my dress and look down at the little girl in pigtails, who just handed me a piece of paper.
Kiera is the new kid on the block and has only been with the class for a few days. With all the buzz I had not had the time yet to read her mind, to see its wonders, hopes and dreams. I reach out, mindful to keep a soft touch.
I see nothing. Where other children’s minds are active, full of colors and imagination, with Kiera, there is only darkness. It’s like the little girl is an empty shell which learned how to mimic emotions from the children around her. The oppressive darkness which seems almost alive, reaching out with writhing tendrils into my brain, seeking to snuff out everything it touches.
With a soft gasp, I let go of Kiera's mind. Blinking fast a couple of times, I find myself back in the classroom. I try to compose myself, hoping Kiera and other children cannot see how badly I am shaking.
“Such a nice drawing, Kiera,” I whisper. “Run along now, dear, and get ready for recess,” I give a smile, watching her join her friends. Children’s minds can be a wonderful thing, the most beautiful, colorful thing in the universe. There was only darkness in Kiera’s.
But, perhaps, it was not too late. Perhaps, I can yet help her see the light.