Wednesday, 15 January 2014

Wind Back Wednesdays: My Childhood Super Power

Welcome to my second episode in Wind Back Wednesdays. The fact that I'm writing this means that this has already lasted a whole week longer than I thought it would! Hurrah!!

In case you missed it last week, Wind Back Wednesdays is when I look back on the memories of my life, find one worth talking about, and write it down! Today, I'm going back in time to my life in Primary School when I was about 8 years old. Similar age to last week. Apparently this is when I blossomed in my anecdotal experiences. So without further ado, I give you this week's story.

When at school, we were given a project. Our teacher asked us to come up with either an example of when we were really naughty, or when we did a good deed. We had a school assembly coming up and the idea was that we were going to tell our stories on this day.

When I was asked to do this, I couldn't think of anything for either story. So, as a result, I figured the best thing was to make something up, naturally. There was a certain degree of competition involved in this project. We all wanted to have the best story. I needed it to be good. As such, I came up with this story about how I had been really naughty one day when I had taken talcum powder and covered my entire room with it. If I still had the original version now, I would have been able to upload it and show you the awesomeness of this story. However, as I don't, you will have to take my word for it. It had plot twists and a protaganist and deep relationship dramas that made for an amazing and enthralling story... all of that, and it lasted about half a page in my exercise book... sure the twists and drama involved probably weren't that obvious, but if you read in between the lines, you would have found it.

Anywho, I wrote this story and presented it to my teacher with a flourish and pride that had me certain I had the best story yet. This pride and excitement was incredibly short-lived however, when my Teacher announced that these stories would all be going back home with us, so our parents could read them. Suddenly I was filled with dread; knowing full well that, if Marmie read this, I would be caught in the act of lying, and I knew she wouldn't be happy with that.

However, it was all too late and, as I hadn't developed the ability to cover my tracks when being naughty yet, I had no choice but to let the exercise book go home with me. All that evening, I was terrified for Marmie's reaction to what she had read in my book. I heard nothing from her for a while, which just served as a further catalyst to increasing my fear. When Marmie eventually did address the story with me however, her reaction was not that of disappointment or anger, but rather surprise.

"You have some memory on you," She said.

I looked at her, confused, but too paralysed to speak.

"That incident with the talcum powder happened when you were really young." She continued. "I can't believe you remember that."

My mouth dropped open in amazement, not quite sure how to deal with the information that I was being given. Marmie was telling me that not only was I not in trouble, but that I hadn't even done anything wrong in the first place. My completely fabricated story of my Talcum Powder mayhem appeared to be 100% true.

"That actually happened?" I asked.

Marmie laughed at this. "Well of course it did, why else would you have written it?"

"Yeah." I said. "I was really naughty that day, huh?"

Marmie smiled at this, and continued with whatever she was doing, blissfully unaware of the full out explosions occurring within me. I remember clearly leaving Marmie and going back to my bedroom in a daze. There was no part of my story that I had thought was true. I had no memory of doing what I had written I'd done, nor did I have any memory of being told that I had. And yet, here I was having made something up, and later discovering that it had, in fact, come true.

Naturally, my 8 year old brain then made the only conclusion that seemed possible. I somehow had developed magic powers. When I wrote stories, they came true. I felt 100% certain of my new found special abilities and was suddenly overcome and drunk with the power of it. I immediately thought of all the things that I wanted to come true, knowing, without a doubt, that all I had to do was write them down and they would happen.

Now, usually, I suppose a person might try and exploit this power by writing a story about how they are a millionaire or famous or something, but this wasn't my plan in the slightest. As soon as I realised my power, I also realised the responsibility that was tied to it. And what was amazing was that this was years before the Spiderman movies had come out. I had always been slightly ahead of my time...

Due to this revelation, I decided that I would use my new found power carefully and with caution. Apart from anything, I was afraid that people would discover my talent and then want to experiment on me and things. So I didn't write anything else for a couple of days, careful to ensure that my previous accidental magic had gone unnoticed by any Scientists.

However, as the date of the School Assembly began to draw near, my Teacher appeared to begin to get a little distraught over the material we had to offer. Apparently, so many of us had chosen to write about the naughty story, there were barely any stories about us being good. She asked if anyone would consider writing one for the other column. She had no takers. All of us apparently prefered to be seen as naughty than good... or we simply just didn't have any examples to give.

The day prior to the Assembly, our Teacher offered the class an ultimatum. If we all insisted on doing naughty stories, we wouldn't be guaranteed a spot to read it out in front of the school and family visitors. However, anyone who was willing to write a good story, would have a definite place in the Assembly.

Now, for all my good intentions on not exploiting my power up until this point, there was one form of Kryptonite that I had growing up... that was the need for attention. There was nothing more satisfying to me than to perform and have a whole room of people watch me... Yes, I was that girl. Due to this, the possibility that I might not be able to have that attention on me scared me silly. Also, by sacrificing my story when no one else wanted to, effectively taking the bullet for the class, I was showing myself to be a shining example of selflessness and would be praised by everyone else around me. That prospect played to my drama queen inner self so much, I knew I had no other choice but to volunteer. And so, like the martyr I was, I raised my hand and humbly offered my services in writing another story last minute for the sake of a well balanced Assembly and, in turn, to uphold the reputation of this school.

Of course, there was still the issue of my not having any valid memory of doing a good deed. But, due to my new found powers, I knew this not to be a problem. The moment I wrote it, it would become true. I was certain of it.

So I spent the rest of the afternoon writing my next story. This time, I went all out; knowing that the longer I made it, the more time I would have in the lime light. I didn't hold back at all, knowing that there was no story I could make up that would be too big for my super powers.

Due to the short notice, there wasn't enough time for the Teacher to show this story to my parents, and so took the story as gospel. I had had the sense to make the story at least possible, so as to not attract suspicion. There was no flying or world peace involved, I kept it classy; involving myself and Marmie alone.

Assembly day arrived. The school piled into the hall, taking their seats on the floor in front of the chairs, which were organised at the back for the parents to sit. I held onto my piece of paper and waited in anticipation for my turn to tell my story. Eventually it came, and I made my way to the front, throwing Marmie a wave as I spotted her at the back. She waved back, smiling. As far as she was concerned, I was going to be telling my naughty story. I hadn't told her I'd changed it, I wanted it to be a surprise. Once centre stage, I began my story.

"One day, I came home and couldn't find anyone in the house, so I shouted "Mummy" and didn't hear anything at first, but then I heard her. Mummy shouted from the bathroom, but when I got there, the bathroom was locked. Mummy said that she was locked in the bathroom and she was stuck on the toilet, doing a poo. She asked me to help her, and so I tried to open the door but couldn't, so I got a chair and stood on it so I was closer to the door handle, but I still couldn't open it. Mummy was crying now and said she was really stuck on the toilet, so I got a 50p and used it to open the door. It worked and I went in, but Mummy was still stuck on the toilet so I got the neighbours to come round and we all pulled really hard and then Mummy wasn't stuck anymore."

There were giggles throughout the story. The kids especially liked the bit about the poo. When I finished the story, people applauded and I looked up and smiled. It had been a success! I searched for Marmie in the audience and found her. She was staring at me in complete confusion. She didn't look like she remembered the story at all.

I was confused. Why didn't she remember this? I'd written it, so it had to be true. I'd already proved that I was able to do this... however, she almost seemed embarrassed by the whole thing. Why would she be embarrassed?

After the assembly, I found her and asked what she thought of the story.

"What happened to your talcum powder story?" She asked.

"The teacher wanted more good stories instead." I said.

"I wish you had shown it to me first, it was a little embarrassing." Marmie said.

"There wasn't time."

"I thought you were only meant to tell true stories." Marmie said.

I looked at her confused. Why wasn't she remembering this yet? What was wrong?

"That didn't happen, Lisa." Marmie said.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'm pretty certain I'd remember something like that."

And then my world fell apart around me. The amazing gift I had been certain I had, was ripped from my hands and all I had was a story I had made up without any truth involved. I had never been so devastated.

Of course, I didn't totally stop believing I was able to do it... I mean, it had worked once, so maybe it was only on certain stories that it would happen...

... I can't remember the point in which I stopped believing this. But I'm pretty certain I don't believe it now... at least I hope it's not true, given that I've published a novel where the entire world is destroyed... I will not cope with the guilt if that one came true...

Peace out my lovelies.

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