Chapter 1- Blue's Story

2.6K 54 30
                                    

          My name is Blue Mace Cornwall and I’m a ten years old girl in fifth grade. I was born on June fifteenth, and I never had many friends. That’s basically because people think I’m a really depressed person, mainly because my name is Blue. And everyone knows the color blue symbolizes depression. There are also other reasons I don’t like to talk about, but you’ll probably know about them soon.

          I was named Blue for quite a few reasons. The main one is because of a very strange tradition on my mom’s side of the family. The tradition is that the first born child is named after the mother’s favorite color. The second reason is because I have blue eyes. And the third is because I was born a blue baby. A blue baby means that you were born with heart problems and couldn’t breathe properly.

           I also had a brother who was also a blue baby. Sadly, he died because of it. His name was Rick, and he was three years younger than me. He died six months after birth because of this disease, and I was only three. The doctors couldn’t help him, but they managed to save me from dying.

          When I was five, my father was killed. I saw it with my very own eyes, and it traumatized me. It was just a typical normal day in a hot summer afternoon. The three of us were going to have a picnic by the stream near my house. Then, some guy broke into our house with a gun and knife. My father was in his way, so the strange man grabbed my father, shot him, then with his knife…I can’t remember. It was too sad, too scary, too much…too much blood. I made myself forget, made it feel like a dream, everything that happened that day. But I’ll always know that it happened, and I’ll always be scared.

          While this was happening, my mother was holding me, and we hid in a corner so we couldn’t be seen. My mother was crying, and trying to keep quiet. I was screaming into her hand, she covered my mouth so the killer couldn’t hear me. After father died, the strange man got away with most of our money and our T.V. My mom quickly got up and grabbed her phone and called the police for help. I never found out what happened to the man, if he was caught or if he got away. My mom refused to tell me.

          I had nightmares about every night after about the big strange man coming back and taking me and my mom next. I mentally told myself that it would never happen, but I was always too scared. I would wake up screaming and crying for my mom, wanting only her comfort. To make sure she was still there, and not gone, and not dead.

          This is one way why I never made friends. Because my mother became so poor because she had to quit her job to take care of me, I was never sent to school. I would have gone to a public school, but my mother became very protective over me and home schooled me. She told me that public schools were horrid and most of the kids there were mean. I’ve always gone to a privet one. I never really got to socialize with kids, so I guess I could say that I never ‘properly grew up’ as most people say I act like a little girl, which I do. I’m told that I’m too sensitive, to needy, to clingy, and a baby. But, oddly enough, after all this, I still try to make friends.

          We live in Georgia, Atlanta, Georgia in a neighborhood with a few houses. At the age of eight, I was sent to Jacksonville, Florida. I don’t know why at first, till I found out. My mother was sending me to a school that would help me! I know it’s strange to like school, but I’ve always wanted to go back so I can finally try and make some friends. At first I had no clue why I was going to one in Florida, but my mother said I didn’t have to worry. She said that it was a special school for kids like me, kids with strange abilities. I had no clue what she meant, but she said I would find out later on in life, so I trusted her.

          Going to this school, I don’t know what she meant that it was for kids like me. No one here at the school has ever been home schooled or is a little troubled. The kids here are strange and do weird stuff. An example would be glowing, as I once saw this girl a few years older than me glow in a dark room she was in. I was freaked out but I told myself I was seeing things. Even though I knew it happened, I don’t like to believe it.

The Children with the Color NamesWhere stories live. Discover now