Cruel Children's Chronicles: Padma

Cruel Children's Chronicles: Padma - Killing Kind

There is a voice.

It's bugging me, calling me, and twisting me around. It's hurting me, morphing me and forcing me to strife. Because I want it now, give it my heart and my soul. It's breaking me down, I'm not breaking out. This is when I lose control.

I remember the day like it was only minutes ago. But then again, my memory is extraordinary. It helps me remember things, you see.

I was ten years old, and like most witches and wizards in our neighbourhood, I was sent to a playgroup for young magically gifted children. My sister Parvati was sick this day; she'd gotten a horrible cough when she had had a swim in the cold lake next to where we lived. The same day the police had found a boy, Yres Carrons, drowned. My mother would never let us swim there ever again.

Anyway, I was bored, because I rarely spoke with children other than my sister. And the other children didn't speak to me as they thought I was weird. A boy named Arec suddenly spoke to me, and told me that I should join him in the woods. So I did, and when we went into the woods all alone. He was grinning. Then, out of nowhere, he threw sand at me, and made sure it got in my hair.

It felt like worms. Worms digging their way through my skin, attacking my brain. It made me scream. I tried to rip my hair off, getting the worms away. But it was way too late. They were inside me, making the voice strong.

I was terrified, and I panicked. I ran around in circles, hitting myself before I threw myself at a tree. It hurt. I wounded myself, scratching up my hands so they bled. The feeling of my hands being drained of blood made me confused. It made me even surer that some alien was attacking my body. I ran towards Arec, wanting him to take his worms back. When he denied everything and tried to get away from me, I held my right, bloody hand over his face.

He screamed, so I put it over his mouth. 'It is the most clever thing to do,' the voice in my head said. 'Now he can't scream and he can't breath. Perhaps he will keep quiet then. Not throwing sand at you, not calling you names behind your back when he thinks you're not listening. Silly boy, he doesn't know about the voice in your head that knows and hears everything.'

"Do you feel them too? The worms, I mean. Do you?" I asked, not removing my hands. He was trying to bite my hand, but the taste of my blood made him change his mind. When he tried not to move in the hope of me letting him go, I laid my left hand over his nose, having it between my thumb and index- finger.

Once again he tried to bite me, to push me away, but I was stronger. He tripped backwards, and I fell upon him, still holding my hands hard down at his face, sitting on his stomach making it even harder for him to breath. His eyes were vivid and frightened. His arms were constantly trying to push me away, but eventually he gave up. His eyes were begging me to let him go, his body was twisting in hope that I'd move away. His breath was fast, then slower and slower. Suddenly he was quiet, calm and white.

I did not, however, remove my hands for quite some time.

When I did, I slowly got up, looking at the stiff body of Arec lying in front of me. I softly kicked his side, but there was no reaction. I sniffed once, frowned a little, then I shrugged. There was not much left to do, really. Therefore I walked away.

I walked back to the playgroup, but nobody noticed me. I sat down by a table, and took some stones and played with them. Making towers, I remember. After three stones they always fell over. Two hours later my mother picked me up.

The day afterwards in the newspaper, it said that Arec was found. Apparently some sick psycho man had murdered him - because Arec was no thin, weak boy. My mother said it was horrible - horrible! My sister didn't say much. She sniffed once, frowned a little, before she shrugged. I watched her carefully, then I asked if she was healthy again.

"Yes," she replied. She waited until my mother had left the kitchen before she said: "Arec was such a rude boy."

"Yes, he was," I agreed. Then she leaned over the table and looked me in the eye.

"Just like Yres Carrons." I nodded, agreeing again. "You did it, didn't you?" Parvati asked me. "Like - like the voice told you," she whispered. I looked at her. Parvati was ten just like me, and not extraordinary strong or anything.

"You have it too?" I asked, almost feeling angry. The voice was mine, not hers. Why did I always have to share everything with her?

"Of course I do," Parvati said, sounding offended. "Yres Carrons pushed me under the water, and I dragged him down with me. Down, down, down. I used my feet, very clever." My mother came into the kitchen again, giving us a curious look.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked, as she filled a glass with water. "Now, don't you two worry about that man who's killing the young boys. You aren't, are you?"

"No, Mother," we replied in unison. My mother smiled, patted our heads, and walked out again.

My mother once said something that I've remembered ever since she said it. It's a clever quote, but then again my mother is a clever witch. Her words were:

Behind ever man there is a woman.

Or two young girls.