Poverty Oddities

For years, one of my greatest concerns has been that children who are similar to who I’ve always been would never find a place they could think of as their true home. I had to grow and learn the hard way, surrounded by those who would have me burned for my gifts, and for years I took the public abuse and humiliation in the hopes that it would compensate for my unique abilities. Everyone, no matter who you are or what qualities identify you as a human being, deserves the chance to feel like they have a family.

It was at a younger point in my life that I made it my mission to help these children that I knew must exist. If I had existed as I am, surely more of us were out there.

I’m too vague in these thoughts, so perhaps I should elaborate. I am Elaine Charleston, and I grew up in poverty. From a very young age, I was different from all six of my siblings. Three brothers and three sisters enjoyed torturing me endlessly, calling me awful names like “black witch” and “evil sorceress” and suggesting that my parentage came from the Devil himself. I felt guilt every time my gifts appeared in front of others, and my family had seen plenty.

To name some examples, we were gathering eggs from the chickens one morning when my mother sighed that this would not sell enough to make a reasonable enough dinner that day. I focused on the eggs, wishing for more, and there they were. Dozens more. So much money to be made, along with plentiful meals. Another evening, my father was struggling to keep our home warm, with wood vanishing too quickly against the bitter temperatures of winter. I focused on the wood, and then, we had plenty. My parents noticed this pattern and decided to begin testing my abilities, while my siblings felt jealousy at the attention and strangeness of it all.

I was asked to perform many tasks. Wish for more money, wish for more food, wish for more cattle, wish for workers who cared little for higher pay...the demands continued and continued, until my exhaustion from fulfilling wishes of multiplying anything I was asked to multiply started to age me.

I aged rapidly. It seemed like my body jumped five years ahead in age, and the only new factor was how often my gifts were being used for others’ benefits. I couldn’t live like that. Who could? Happiness for others isn’t worth it when it drains you of your very life force, and in my case, quite literally. I’ve theorized that the rapid aging came from the abuse of my abilities to harm others; my gift can create multiplication surroundings, and it can multiply my age when it is not used correctly. Magic comes with morals, I’ve learned.

So, I fled. I packed a small bag and hitched a ride with a stranger and headed to the farthest town I could get to before people failed to recognize my bloodline. When I eventually found my new home, I changed everything for myself, and I sought to take away not only the abuse of poverty and the fear that comes with it, but the abuse that people you love and trust could give those children was too much for my heart to bear. This, in a nutshell so to say, is what led me to where I’ve ended up in my life.

My first goal was to figure out how to locate children in unfortunate situations who might be displaying unusual abilities. I hired private detectives in various towns and cities, traveling for years until I finally came across a little girl in an orphanage that was not known for its kindness to children.

Her name was Abigail. She liked to be called Abi. She was only seven years old, with jet black hair cut to the bottoms of her ears, which she wore the same way every day. I was told that her parents abandoned her due to evil witchcraft, which had caught my attention at once. I wanted to spend time with her. I slipped the director of the building a small cash tip and asked to speak with Abi one on one, and we were promptly led into another room. The door closed, and we were able to sit at one of several round tables that appeared to be used, at one point, as an art center. The two of us sat across the table from one another.

“Abi. I’m Elaine Charleston, and I’d very much like to get to know you. Is there anything you’d like to tell me about yourself?”

“My real mom and dad said the Devil was in me and I needed to live somewhere else. So you’re wasting your time talking to me because I’m no good.” Her small voice shattered my very soul, and I sat back in my chair with a heavy sigh. The “Devil” comment certainly returned a flurry of emotions and memories for me, and everything in my heart reached out to comfort her.

“You know, Abi, I don’t think things like that exist. I think things exist that all of us don’t understand, and that some people understand so little about them that they decide to be afraid. When you’re afraid of things, Abi, your heart can make them feel so much worse than they really are if you stop and think about them. People don’t want to listen to you, so you should listen to yourself.”

I paused and allowed her to take in this information. It was clear that no one had approached this subject like this in such a manner before, and she was taking her time to process it. This was fine, as I had nothing but time to spend on someone who could be so very important to me. Perhaps she already was.

“So you think weird things are okay?” She tilted her head at me questioningly.

“I think they are absolutely wonderful. If you have things you think are weird, I’d love to hear about them.” I leaned forward in my seat, showing my interest through my open body language as I hoped that we had reached a point of trust. “Whatever you feel comfortable saying, I will be the only person who hears it, and I will never talk about it to anyone except you. Pinky promise?”

I held up a pinky and she smiled, her slightly over-large front teeth adding to her charm as she hooked her incredibly small pinky into mine. “Hey! You have purple sparkle nails! I really like purple sparkles!”

“Do you now? Well, I hope someday you can have that for yourself, Abi. Mine were a gift from a lovely friend.”

Abi’s nose crinkled. “You have friends who buy fingernails?”

A tinkling chuckle rang out of my throat from her pure innocence. “No, dear, my friend paid for me to have a woman paint my nails for me in a salon. I suppose I could have phrased that much better.”

A small grin came across Abi’s face, and I felt relaxed as I noted that she seemed to be coming to a comfortable position much more than she had. The grin slowly faded as more thoughts seemed to process through her little brain.

“Can I tell you the weird stuff now?” She looked nervous but eager, like she was coming to terms with the fact that I was not someone to fear or analyze too heavily. It made me glad to see that she could be at ease, but I was also eager to hear what her gifts were. My multiplication gifts were interesting enough, of course, and I was interested to discover what other types of gifts existed. If anyone in my family had any, they kept them a lot more quiet than I managed to keep mine.

“I’m ready, Abi. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Elaine.” Abi giggled. “Sometimes I get nervous okay? Like, really really nervous. Thunderstorms are scary and that makes me nervous, and when I get nervous...the room freezes.”

“It freezes?!” My voice leaped several octaves in excitement; what a unique ability! She should be celebrated for this, and I knew right away that Abi was to be my first placement in the home I was building for children who just needed to be at home.

“Yeah! It totally freezes, Elaine! Except me! I get up and move around. I can see other kids in the room not moving. People come in and see the statues and they totally freak out but it’s kind of cool and…”

Abi trailed off, as if feeling guilty for having pride in herself.

“It is very, very cool, Abi. I absolutely love it. Do you know that I have a weird thing about me, too? I could show you, if it would make you feel better. I really like having it.”

“Yeah! Yeah I wanna see! Please?” Her manners melted my heart ever so slightly.

“Do you have anything with you right now, Abi?”

“I have this.” Abi pulled up a small, worn stuffed bunny. “I got it when I was a baby and it’s the only thing my real mom and dad let me keep.”

“Do me a favor and put it on the table. I’m not even going to touch it. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.”

With Abi’s consent, I moved myself forward so my elbows were on the table. I focused, hard, on the tiny bunny that meant so much to Abi and wished deeply that she could have a few extra ones as friends for her first one. I pushed and I waited and within moments, she had three more bunnies laying on the table near the one she had placed down for me. All were in the exact same condition.

“Wow! Elaine, that’s amazing! You can do it any time? I can only do mine when I’m nervous but I get nervous a lot.” Abi dropped her head a bit, reaching out for the original version of her bunny to hold it tight.

“It’s understandable to be nervous. You have had a hard life, you’ve lived with very little, and you need somewhere comfortable. We can work together, and we can help you find control of your special gift. It may be weird, but weird is not a bad thing with me.” I took a deep breath before asking her, “Abi, would you like to come live with me? You can be Abi Charleston if you want, or you can keep your name. Whatever you would like.”

Abi’s green eyes lit up brighter than I ever knew possible, and she nodded vigorously as she leapt up from her seat. “I’m going to get Miss Murdock right away so I can come home with you right now!”

Time passes.

This was the beginning of my journey. Abi came with me, we bought a large home with several bedrooms, bathrooms, and yards for acres upon acres. I had landscapers create a welcoming environment while workers behind the home created several forms of amusement, such as various playground equipment and a variety of bicycles, tricycles, and other small wheeled things. A basketball court along with a tennis court provided more options for the sporty types, and I was pleased with how well everything came along. Abi was a tremendous help, staying by my side through every decision I made about creating the perfect place for the weird ones to come stay with us.

I taught Abi everything I knew about finding and helping children like she was. She was a teenager when she began searching for more occupants while I continued my studies and journals about what I had and had not tested on Abi in regards to controlling her oddity. Through all of my work to help others, I had not forgotten my sole promise to help Abi find a way to create full control of her talents.

In the meantime, Abi brought in multiple children. The stories were horrific, and the only way to best show them is by pasting the list I created when they began arriving.

For Immediate Placement

Ricardo Routt, 4 years, parent complaint that the child turns things to ice with his hands, was removed from custody after mother submerged his hands in a bonfire to fix the issue, needs immediate removal from foster home to Abi’s Atmosphere.

Owen Avon, newborn, surrendered at birth at the hospital, mother ingested heavy drugs to force death, claimed she passed the Devil into him, removal from foster home to Abi’s Atmosphere recommended quickly but not required.

Charity Lawless, 13 years old, parents claim she hit puberty and began entering dreams to create horrific nightmares, child claims parents were abusive and it was revenge, recommended for immediate care in Abi’s Atmosphere.

Fredericka Johnson, 17 years old, personal request to relocate to Abi’s Atmosphere due to pressure and abuse at home for her capabilities, parents say she is normal, sibling anonymously shared that Fredericka is capable of turning any beverage into a cure-all elixir.

Isabella and Cole Bennett, twins, 12 years old, must place together, parental surrender to Abi’s Atmosphere with temporary hold in foster home approved, children were claimed to have two separate abilities: Isabella is accused of telepathy, while Cole is accused of levitation, swift placement recommended.

As Abi continued to control the list of children in need of our help, expanding the functions of our home in order to keep track of the growing need, my need to discover more grew as well. I found myself traveling to multiple countries to find what I needed to be an appropriate guide. Within a couple of years of my travel, I had met with priestesses, tribe leaders, shamans, divination experts, witches and witchcraft experts, multiple museum curators, and visited several libraries on the subjects I was seeking. The historical range of knowledge I discovered was the beginning of me putting together the most helpful atmosphere for all of my children. I completed my studies and planned to put them together in my own fresh writings with all of the perspectives I continued to gain along the way, but I wanted to do so at home so I could become acquainted with all of the children.

I returned to a full home and an even fuller heart. The twins took to newborn Owen with a swift and deep love, while the others had mingled enough to form unique bonds. My first few hours with the children were filled with wonderful engagements, play times, outdoor activities, and many shouts of, “Miss Elaine, watch this!”

I’ll never forget the night after our first dinner with myself at the head of the table, and we had the most wonderful conversations about their gifts and what their gifts have been doing for one another. Their joy and openness made my heart feel as though I were growing more youthful by the moment, and my joy seized the most sensational level that I couldn’t possibly put into words to express what it felt like more appropriately than this. I felt it appropriate to address further matters and adjourned the table to the play room, where everyone took a seat to listen to me.

“My children, it brings me no greater joy than to hear your self awareness of your gifts and oddities that so many misunderstand and underestimate. My goal to bring unity among us is off to a beautiful start, but we have yet to address another issue that unites all of us. We all come from difficult homes, difficult beginnings with very little to nothing at all.”

A solemn tone filled the air, as palpable as gelatin, and I began to regret bringing such a negative subject out. However, my goal was to reassure my new family that all was being taken care of for them from this point forward.

“It will be new for all of you to experience living somewhere as I intend to run our home, with three hot meals per day, two snack times, and one dessert. I have found means for us to live past the basics of survival. When you lived in difficult situations, it only made your gifts more difficult to control, enjoy, or even learn about. While you are here, you will always be taken care of to the fullest extent, but we are the first generation of oddities who will be learning and growing in order to teach future generations with gifts. We are creating history together, my children.” Owen cooed. “We will be comfortable, but we will not forget where we came from. We will pass on our knowledge, but we will never call ourselves the experts. We will learn from each other, but we will never be better than another. We will acknowledge that we are different, but we will never be better than other humans. We will remain proud of our abilities and maintain a humbleness about our humanity.”

I breathed slowly for a few moments, taking in their widened eyes and full attention, minus the baby, who appeared to be discovering his foot.

“I cannot wait to know you all more, and I look forward to the wonderful work we will be doing here.”

Time passes.

It’s been years since these events. Many years. Many more years than I knew I was capable of living, but I’ve grown my gifts as I grew with my first set of children.

The point of my sharing this story today is not to boast myself as Elaine the Hero. I am far from a hero, as I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I focused on my work more than my children too often, missed opportunities for growth in my obsession to write about it myself, and I have had to work hard to find that balance. What I’ve taken from this experience the most is that my children, my oddities, teach me more than I know I will ever learn to teach them. Their souls are pure because they know the true meaning of suffering, be it poverty or abuse or being misunderstood or dismissed for being who they are. Here, they are safe and open and free, and I hope to share this story to show others how some good, hard, old-fashioned work can save so many youths from tragic endings. I’m taking quite good care of the weird ones, perhaps you can take on some of the more common children.

Or perhaps, you’ll find one of mine, and they’ll help you discover the magic in you.