apophenia xuereb / d8 / fin
Jul 4, 2019 14:33:55 GMT -5
Post by goat on Jul 4, 2019 14:33:55 GMT -5
apophenia xuereb
17
she/they
district 8
17
she/they
district 8
Apophenia. Definition— the tendency to mistakenly perceive connections and meaning between unrelated things. Her mother read it in a book when she was six months pregnant and decided that that was it. She’d always been described by others as strange, it seemed fitting to give her first child such a burdensome name. It seemed strange that a woman as smart as her could be so odd. She’d received top marks in school, with people figuring she could have been a doctor, but she decided she was going to purchase her own factory instead.
Her family had not been rich, but she soon would be. Her children would be raised with no worries as to where their next meal would come from. They both had different fathers, but she didn’t mind that much. People could judge, but at the end of the day, she was still richer than them. Eventually, she grew out of the things that people thought made her strange and became just like everybody else.
Apophenia was just as strange as her mother had been. She liked to dance where she shouldn’t and sing when she shouldn’t and never had a hold on her sharp tongue. While she did not do as well in school as her mother did, her teachers swore they saw potential. She viewed people as either good or bad, no in-between. She was not naive. She knew the world was bad, knew that people were capable of bad things, even though she had not yet experienced anything like that.
Her brother’s name was Prodrome. Definition— an early sign or symptom which often indicate the onset of a disease before more specific signs and symptoms develop. He had been younger by a few years and resented his name entirely. He wanted to be normal, like he perceived his classmates to be. At school, he pretended like he didn’t know his sister. When his mother spoke about how they’d inherit her factory, her kingdom, one day, he wouldn’t look her in the eye.
One day, he left. He had been there at night, and when Apophenia woke, he was gone. Her mother told her he had gone to live with his father. She didn’t know who his father was, and her mother wouldn’t tell her. She wondered why her mother had told Prodrome who his father was when she never told her about hers.
He hadn’t always been kind to her, but he had still been the closest thing she’d had to a friend. She tried searching for him at school, and around places they used to frequent, but when she’d catch glimpses of him, he would turn and go in the other direction. She wasn’t used to such rejection, and it hurt. She was not naive, she knew that people were capable of bad things, but she thought, maybe her brother wasn’t like that. Maybe he would at least say hello, at least give her a wave.
Nothing.
Her mother told her to get over it, so she tried. She threw herself into other things, like perfecting her dancing and learning everything she could about running a factory. She practically lives at her mother’s factory when she is not at school. The workers know that when Apophenia visits, she dances. She waltzes up and down the factory rows with her dresses flowing dangerously close to the machines and thinks—
I am a princess. I am a princess, and this is my castle. My mother is the queen. She built this kingdom from nothing. My brother was a prince, but he couldn’t handle the pressure, and he fell. It is only me now. When my mother too falls from grace, the kingdom will be mine. The workers, our people, my people, will depend on me. They exchange their wares for payment and protection. My mother has not let them down. When my time comes, I cannot let them down either.
The pressure hasn’t gotten to her yet, but it will. It hovers above her shoulders ready to collapse and crush her under its weight. She is not strong like her mother, not cold like her brother. She feels like a flower trampled under uncaring feet. She wants her mother to live forever, so she never has to be in charge of something so critical. The pressure hovers. She is not naive, she knows it is coming for her, and she knows she is not ready for it.
Her family had not been rich, but she soon would be. Her children would be raised with no worries as to where their next meal would come from. They both had different fathers, but she didn’t mind that much. People could judge, but at the end of the day, she was still richer than them. Eventually, she grew out of the things that people thought made her strange and became just like everybody else.
Apophenia was just as strange as her mother had been. She liked to dance where she shouldn’t and sing when she shouldn’t and never had a hold on her sharp tongue. While she did not do as well in school as her mother did, her teachers swore they saw potential. She viewed people as either good or bad, no in-between. She was not naive. She knew the world was bad, knew that people were capable of bad things, even though she had not yet experienced anything like that.
Her brother’s name was Prodrome. Definition— an early sign or symptom which often indicate the onset of a disease before more specific signs and symptoms develop. He had been younger by a few years and resented his name entirely. He wanted to be normal, like he perceived his classmates to be. At school, he pretended like he didn’t know his sister. When his mother spoke about how they’d inherit her factory, her kingdom, one day, he wouldn’t look her in the eye.
One day, he left. He had been there at night, and when Apophenia woke, he was gone. Her mother told her he had gone to live with his father. She didn’t know who his father was, and her mother wouldn’t tell her. She wondered why her mother had told Prodrome who his father was when she never told her about hers.
He hadn’t always been kind to her, but he had still been the closest thing she’d had to a friend. She tried searching for him at school, and around places they used to frequent, but when she’d catch glimpses of him, he would turn and go in the other direction. She wasn’t used to such rejection, and it hurt. She was not naive, she knew that people were capable of bad things, but she thought, maybe her brother wasn’t like that. Maybe he would at least say hello, at least give her a wave.
Nothing.
Her mother told her to get over it, so she tried. She threw herself into other things, like perfecting her dancing and learning everything she could about running a factory. She practically lives at her mother’s factory when she is not at school. The workers know that when Apophenia visits, she dances. She waltzes up and down the factory rows with her dresses flowing dangerously close to the machines and thinks—
I am a princess. I am a princess, and this is my castle. My mother is the queen. She built this kingdom from nothing. My brother was a prince, but he couldn’t handle the pressure, and he fell. It is only me now. When my mother too falls from grace, the kingdom will be mine. The workers, our people, my people, will depend on me. They exchange their wares for payment and protection. My mother has not let them down. When my time comes, I cannot let them down either.
The pressure hasn’t gotten to her yet, but it will. It hovers above her shoulders ready to collapse and crush her under its weight. She is not strong like her mother, not cold like her brother. She feels like a flower trampled under uncaring feet. She wants her mother to live forever, so she never has to be in charge of something so critical. The pressure hovers. She is not naive, she knows it is coming for her, and she knows she is not ready for it.
