Inside the Mind of a Little Girl: A Quest for KnowledgeA Story by Mai L Nissen A story of a little girl who lives mainly in her head, as the material world around her seems peculiar to her... Revised version at top, original version following in red writing. Revised version 1st of April 2015 - and again 15th of May 2015: The little girl had given it a lot of thought - the mystery of death, that is. When she was younger she had attended her grandfather’s funeral, sitting next to her aunt, on the front row in the church. The atmosphere was different from anything else she had experienced in all her four year long life. She had experienced sadness before, though never for this long (or as a collective activity). She didn’t know how to respond - well, she never did. She observed her aunt as she was leaning forward, as if having a stomach ache, with tears streaming from her eyes. Sound and noises, the little girl had previously only heard from little children or people with a severe cold. The little girl had experienced many colds and stomach aches, and she felt sorry for her aunt - she did not look comfortable. Sitting upright, a bit stiff, the little girl hesitantly reached towards her aunt’s trembling hand. As her aunt felt the warmth of the girl’s little paw, she responded with a gentle squeeze. Within seconds her aunt positioned into an even more advanced way of showing discomfort. Her body was shaking, she sounded like she couldn’t breathe. The little girl looked nervously about scanning the room for any reactions. Nothing. Okay, no need for alarm. The little girl believed in authority, she was quite willing to do her part, but she trusted in the judgement of adults. The little girl felt rather uncomfortable - more so than usual, when confronted with awkward social situations in which she had not fully decoded the conventions of the specific scenario. This was her first funeral. The little girl did not mean to be overly dramatic, but this was by far the most awkward " and perplexing - situation she had ever encountered. With a deep breath and furled brow, the little girl wiggled her toes as if there was no tomorrow. As her aunt clutched her little hand, the little girl stopped. She felt the urgency of acting, though she still had not decided which strategy was suitable for this situation. With caution she placed the other hand on top of her aunt’s. A bit tense, she peered from the corner of her eyes, unsure of the reaction. Her aunt looked down at her with a gaze loving and grateful. The little girl mechanically responded with a well intended, though indecisive smile.
Since then she had lived to see her grandmother follow suit. She remembered that she loved her grandmother as a little girl. Though for the past year her grandmother had been ill and said things that didn’t make sense. Even her parents said so. The little girl, though not willing to admit, found her grandmother a bit scary. She had finally learned to interact in social encounters without being met with a certain face. The face with the mouth slightly opened, the eyes opened wide, blankly staring at her for a few seconds. Then eventually they would shut their mouths, their eyes would flicker for a second while an almost invisible shiver travelled through their face before ending the conversation and moving on. It was a look of disbelief that was slowly relieved by bafflement. This ritual had been a daily occurrence in her 5 year long life. She knew that it was because of her, but she did not exactly know why. Generally, she had discovered a pattern or a semblance of one at least among groups of people in more familiar contexts. Her grandmother acted unpredictably, as if she did not know the rules. The little girl, for all her efforts of understanding the expectations of her in different social encounters, was at a loss. Her grandmother would utter single words randomly, on occasion she would manage to produce something akin to a sentence; she would grab hold of the little girl and hug her. The little girl did not like being hugged, at least not by strangers. Her grandmother seemed strange, like a stranger. When she died, the little girl’s
mother cried. The little girl gave her mother a long hug, as she had observed
was the thing to do. She did not go to such length every time someone cried.
Though if not now that someone had died, she reckoned, there would never be a
good time to do so. She did it for her mother. She loved her mother. At
first she was surprised, at her mother crying. Not because she had not seen
this before. But her father had entered the room first, he was not crying. It
was the little girl’s father who had lost his mother - and he didn’t cry...
Should she hug her father as well? She loved her father too. Her father was not
a man of many words and did not express himself in terms of any visible
fluctuations in mood or feeling. Yet she always sensed some kind of sadness in
him that she desperately wished she could protect him from. She was sad for her
parents. She imagined that she would be very sad if any of them should die. The little girl was curious to know, what death meant, not for the ones left behind, but for the people who died. Whenever she brought up such topics, people tended to agree that people go to a place called Heaven, when they die. A man referred to as ‘God’ was usually a key figure in the concept called Heaven. Despite the general consensus, now and again she would meet someone who claimed not to know what would happen or who would claim that there was more than one god. They were all relatively reasonable adults that she respected as an authority, yet their statements about death - and life, for that matter, or creation as some would call it - were so contradictory. It occurred to the little girl that there were things that were not just a mystery to her.
As it dawned on her that adults did
not have the answer to such an important issue, she was overwhelmed by a sense
of duty, a responsibility to figure out the answer to such a question. Growing up with folklore about elves,
trolls, dwarves and supernatural powers, it seemed obvious to the little girl
that her origin could be explained within the framework of these stories of
ancient realms. Perhaps she originated from an elf- or troll-society that had
been banished by humans into the cold rocks, hills or caves. While she knew her
imagination was a vivid force, she felt strongly about her being different from
other people. To the little girl, the idea of having supernatural origin was an
appealing prospect " that would explain everything! With help from exhaustive
drafts of theories on the subject that she had sketched herself. She did not
believe in aliens, though - that was just silly! Only silly people would
believe in that - and she was not silly! She knew that it was not very nice to
think of others as silly, but privately she did judge such people - just a
little bit.
Original version: The little girl had given it a lot of thought, the mystery of death, that is. When she was younger she had attended her grandfather’s funeral, sitting next to her aunt in the front of the church. The atmosphere was different from anything else she had experienced in all her three year long life. She had experienced sadness before, but this time all the adults seemed different. She didn’t know how to respond " well, she never really knew how to respond. She observed her aunt as she was leaning forward, as if having a stomach ache, with tears streaming from her eyes. Sound and noises the little girl had previously only heard from little children or people with a severe cold. The little girl had experienced many colds and stomach aches, and she felt sorry for her aunt - she did not look comfortable. Sitting upright, a bit stiff, the little girl hesitantly reached towards her aunt’s trembling hand. Her aunt squeezed it gently and went into an even more advanced way of showing discomfort. Her body was shaking, she sounded like she couldn’t breathe. The little girl looked nervously about scanning the room for any reactions. Nothing. Okay, no need for alarm. The little girl believed in authority, she was quite willing to do her part, but she trusted in the judgement of adults. The little girl felt rather uncomfortable - more than usual, when confronted with awkward social situation in which she had not fully decoded the conventions of the specific scenario. She did not mean to be overly dramatic, but this was by far the most awkward situation she had ever encountered. As her aunt clutched her little hand, the little girl was unsure of what was expected of her. Hesitantly, she placed the other hand on top of her aunt’s. A bit tense, she peered from the corner of her eyes, unsure of the reaction. Her aunt looked down at her lovingly and gratefully. The little girl mechanically responded with a well intended, though indecisive smile.
Since then she had lived to see her grandmother follow suit. She remembered loving her as a little girl. Though for the past years her grandmother had been ill and said things that didn’t make sense. Even her parents said so. The little girl, though not willing to admit, found her grandmother a bit scary. She had finally learned to interact in social encounters without being met with that face. The face, in which the mouth slightly opened, the eyes opened wide, blankly staring at her for a few seconds. Then eventually they would shut their mouths, their eyes would flicker for a second while an almost invisible shiver travelled through their face before ending the conversation and moving on. This ritual had been a daily occurrence in her 5 year long life. She knew that it was because of her, but she did not exactly know why. Her grandmother was different. With others she had discovered a pattern or a semblance of one at least. Her grandmother acted differently. The little girl, for all her efforts in understanding the expectations of her in different social encounters, did not understand what was expected of her here. Her grandmother would say things that did not make sense; she would grab hold of the little girl and hug her. The little girl did not like being hugged, at least not by strangers. Her grandmother seemed strange, like a stranger.
When she died, the little girl’s mother cried. The little girl gave her mother a long hug, as she had observed was the thing to do. She did not go to such length every time someone cried. Though if not now that someone had died, she reckoned, then there would never be a good time to do so. She did it for her mother. She loved her mother. At first she was surprised, at her mother crying. Not because she had not seen it before. But her father had entered the room first, he was not crying. It was the little girl’s father who had lost his mother " and he didn’t cry... Should she hug her father as well? She loved her father too. Her father was not a man of many words and did not express himself in terms of any visible fluctuations in mood or feeling. Yet she always sensed some kind of sadness in him that she desperately wished she could protect him from. She was sad for her parents. She imagined that she would be very sad if any of them should die.
The little girl was curious to know, what death meant, not for the ones’ left behind, but for the people who died. Whenever she brought up such topics, people tended to agree that people go to a place called Heaven, when they die. God was usually an important addition to the creation of Heaven. Though now and again she would meet someone who did not know, what would happen or who would claim that there was more than one god. They were all reasonable adults that she respected as an authority, yet their statements about death and life - or creation as some would call it - were so contradictory. It occurred to the little girl that there were things that were not just a mystery to her. As it
dawned on her that adults did not have the answer to such an important issue,
she was overwhelmed by a sense of duty, a responsibility to figure out the
answer to such a question. While she
made sure that she did her homework and met all her other obligations; such as
talking to people, saying the right things, listen, playing well with other
children, give comfort and being comforted by adults (should they deem it necessary); she spent most of her time thinking. She
would lie in her bed and just think about the worlds big questions,
philosophize and sometimes dream. In between her social obligations and seeking
an answer that was satisfactory to issues such as death and life, she was
trying to solve another riddle. Sometimes she imagined herself to be a changeling.
It was a quite reasonable hypothesis, she deemed. She felt strange and
awkwardly out of place. While she knew her imagination was vivid and strong,
she felt strongly about her being something different from other people. She
did not believe in aliens " that was just silly! Only silly people would
believe in that " and she was not silly! She knew that it was not very nice to
think of others as silly, but privately she did judge such people - just a
little bit. © 2015 Mai L NissenAuthor's Note
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8 Reviews  Last Updated on August 19, 2015 Tags: #death, #smile, #changeling, #short story, #imagination, God, #heaven Author
Mai L NissenOdense, Region Syddanmark, DenmarkAboutI am 30 years old, a graduate student from Denmark, studying English (literature, history, linguistics) and Scientific Study of Religion. If you wish to befriend me, I would like you to read some .. more..Writing
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