Gifted

“He asked to see the dollars, as promise that he'd get his reward. Nicolette brought them out, and the President was pleased. Nicolette offered him a pen, and he signed the deal. The deal with the devil.”

“Annan!” someone snaps, her voice overpowering the gasps of awe. I did say a bad word, after all.

The children gaze up at me, eyes wide.

“What happened next?” one of them asks.

“Sorry, friend” I say. “I don't think your mother would appreciate that.”

“Is it real?” she asks softly.

My own mother steps forward; the other children scatter.

The girl in front of me doesn't flinch.

“Is it?” she whispers.

“I don't know” I reply. “And it's late, friend. To bed.” She blinks slowly, disbelieving; but she turns and leaves, just as my mother arrives.

“Annan, what have I told you about your stories?” she asks. I stare over her shoulder when I answer.

“To stop filling the children's heads with lies” I say. “To avoid using bad words. But I don't understand how words can be bad, mother.”

I keep my voice level, controlled. Getting angry won't do any good.

“The word 'devil' is only bad because we make it bad.”

“I don't want you teaching the children lies” mother says, changing the subject abruptly. She knows she can't win an argument with me.

“But they aren't lies” I say. “They're history.”

“History we've spent our lives trying to forget” mother hisses. “I want those children to grow up thinking that the world is good.”

“That is the lie, mother” I say. “The world is not good.”

I turn on my heel an stalk away from the village, and into the forest.

I am still in the forest when the bombs fall.