Mana tugged at my pinky. Do you think mommy will know it’s me without my soul? Am I still mommy’s Mana? I wasn’t sure about my answers. Mr. Curly Bear. Can you bend down for a bit? I did what she asked. Mana placed her cool hand on my forehead. Her hand jumped from her forehead to mine a few more times. You look sick, Mr. Curly Bear. Mana’s sudden act of concern shocked me. It made me feel a little uncomfortable. Why did I chose to help her? How is my past life related to her? By finding Mana’s soul, will I regain those lost memories?

And then, it happened. The night they first met. How their fates intertwined. It wasn't Mana. It was her mother.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark. The porch lamp swayed back and forth.

Finally he was alone. He was getting sick of her constant nagging. If she didn’t leave the porch, slamming the front door behind her, he would have done so. Even with the door closed, he could clearly hear the curses she muttered under her breath. She was probably halfway down the hall by now. He caught the first sentence. “Son-of-a-, move out already.” He knew exactly what else followed in order. She had said it more times than he cared to remember. The main thing was she wanted him out of the house. He wanted it as much as she did, maybe more. It never happened. God knows he tried. Things didn’t work out. Nothing usually did in his twenty two years of existence. His parent’s marriage fell apart. His dog ran away as soon as they met. He didn’t even get a chance to name it. He never won at anything especially fights. There were quite a few broken bones to prove it. How about his schooling? What schooling? Oh yeah, and his mother obviously didn’t stick around.

With his eyes closed and his back flat up against an old mite-infested beam, he waited until her voice faded into the peaceful humming of the night. Mid-August equaled hot and humid. Night was like day in terms of temperature. You couldn’t take enough baths to keep the sweat off. He hummed his favorite tune and nodded his head to the beat. When were things going to start for him. He stopped humming and slowly opened his eyes. Beyond the front gates across the lawn, yellow specks twinkled like little stars. He remembered the first time he saw them. How silly he was to think they were magical trails of dust made by fairies. Now, he knew better. He had seen it many times since the first. They were nothing but a band of curious fireflies weaving in and out of the long, green blades, racing towards the lit porch.

Didn’t they already know what the light was? Why were they doing it night after night, occasionally making it their last? He thought back to his own predicament. A half chuckle, half sigh escaped his parted lips. Apparently, he wasn’t much better than them. He was like the fireflies, stuck in the same routine. He always found himself outside sitting on the porch and thinking. Why did he do it? What was he thinking? Oh yes, waiting for a phantom of a mother. He kept his promise, why couldn’t she?

It would be great it she appeared in front of him tonight. If she came back, maybe things would start to work out. It would definitely solve most of his problems. He caught himself and swore. Being so damn optimistic again and at a time like this. He was twenty two for Christ sakes. It had been almost fifteen years since he last laid eyes on her face. And now, he made her out to be some kind of a heroine, a great savior he was waiting for?

She had plenty of chances to return. He should have forgotten about everything and left. They didn’t want him here, Bob aka father and Barbara aka the nagging . He even had his stuff packed. Should he go tonight? He stood up expecting a miracle to happen. Nope. Not tonight. Wait—what was this feeling? He physically felt something coming. Was it courage? Was it resolution? Nope. It was just a large yawn that required the use of his eyes, nose, and mouth. An unexpected glare of light forced him back. He tried to squint. Where was the light coming from? Could it be beyond the swamp? It was hard to tell. The light was unbearable. He raised his hand up to shield his eyes.

It died down as sudden as it came. He blinked a few times before staring out to where he thought the light came from. There was still an ambiguous afterglow. And then it was gone as if he had imagined it all. Perhaps he was hallucinating in the heat. Even though he told himself that, his eyes never left the spot where the weird glow had been. Out from the darkness emerged a small figure. There was no sound although there should have been. He knew the front gate well. It made old squeaking noises like a band of mice. How did they get onto the front lawn without opening the gate? Did they silently scale the iron fence? Or perhaps they walked right through. He shuddered at the very thought.

The figure came closer, their face obscured by a large fashionable hood. Even with the heavy cloak, he could tell it was a woman or a girl. The way they walked conveyed lightness and care. Was it mother? He thought again and decided it was not. She was too small. The hooded girl stood in front of him now with one hand out as if asking for permission. When did she get so close? He held his breath as she took another step.

She barely broke the air with her tiny voice. "Help me up the porch, will you?" His hand reached out to hers without fear. It was doing the complete opposite of what his head was telling him. She took hold of it and he felt an unfamiliar tingle climbing up his arm and disappearing into his shoulder blade. It was colder than he had expected. The night wasn't cold. Was she sick? She slid her hand away from his. He didn't have as good a grip on it as he thought he did. It was like her hand was dipped in oil. He had the urge to sniff his own hand to see if there were any unpleasant scent left behind. She bowed her head and removed the hood. Her hair was a mess from what he could see. Were those specks of silver dust in her hair? He looked closely with the porch light now steadied. No, it was only dandruff. She must be very dirty. Too preoccupied with inspecting his hand, wondering if there were anything left over by her slimy touch, he didn't notice her upturned face. She was trying to meet his gaze. He was still studying his hand when she poked him in the chest.

"Help me with my bag." He looked up, surprised to hear her voice again. Wasn’t she a little bossy for a stranger? And she was asking for help too. This time he wasn't going to let her have her way. She was definitely younger and she was dirty too. He hated dirty girls.

"I'm not gonna touch that bag. Its probably as filthy as you." After he spoke, he was afraid she would start crying or throw a tantrum but she didn't. He wanted to take back what he said. Why was he being rude? Without his consent, she shoved the bag towards him. It almost dropped to the chipped steps except he caught it in mid air before it could which surprised him.

"Nothing is as dirty as me. So take it." She went around him to get to the door but it definitely felt like she went through him. Her foot steps were again so light as if she wasn't walking but rather floating.

"Wait," finally realizing he was half in a daze. "Don't just go in there. You're a stranger." She already had her white hands on the door handle when she turned towards him.

"Come with me and I won't be." She then unlatched the door and went into the warm light. He found himself following her in. As he trailed behind her through the hallway, things weren't quite right. He hadn't noticed it before but the frames lining the red wallpaper seemed a little crooked. There were yellowing paper peeping out from the drawers as well. It wasn't an eyesore before but now, it definitely was. He opened the drawers and stuffed the papers in as deep as he could. Maybe that was suppose to make up for all the times it hung out. He became more aware of his surroundings as if her presence heightened his senses. But how was that possible? Someone couldn’t just do that, could they?

Bob and Barbara were in the kitchen. Obviously the strange dirty girl found her way around.

"What are you doing here? Hero! Who said you could let this filthy thing inside my house?!" The angry voice was then joined by another.

“Why Barbara, if you look, she's just a harmless little girl. No need to scare her like that." There was a pause and then the voice spoke again in an even more gentle tone as if addressing a baby. "What’s your name, little girl?” She told them her name.

“Are you lost, Cyndi? Do you need a place to stay for the night? We can look for your parents tomorrow." The girl thanked them and asked to know where the washroom was. Bob showed her and returned to the kitchen where Barbara was set to protest.

"Something is not right about that dirty girl, Bob. She's too calm to be lost. I think—" She was abruptly interrupted in mid-sentence. Hero could hear two sets of footsteps. The two came into view. Bob was dragging an annoyed Barbara down the narrow hallway towards him. They passed by without acknowledging his presence. He got a good whiff of her heavy perfume mixed with Bob's musky smell of sweat and swamp water.

The two stepped outside to talk in a low voice. Bob spoke first. "Did you see her clothes?"

"Yes, they're filthy. Why do we have to house that brat?"

"No, her clothes are expensive even though they’re dirty. She must be a rich kid. There’s bound to be a reward for finding her."

"You think we can make some easy money?"

"Yeah! But we have to treat her nicely and maybe she'll put in a few good words for us to her family."

"You want me to act for that brat?"

"You're my favorite actress, it'll be a piece of cake."

“Where will she sleep? I’m not giving up our—”

“Of course she’ll sleep in Hero’s room. He can just sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Alright then—”

They both walked back in to see Hero standing in the hallway wearing a disgusted expression on his face. They simply ignored it and told him to go make his room presentable. Hero got to his room and slammed the door. He had plenty of time to question as he gathered a few personal things to hide. Bob and Barbara were probably feeding that girl in the kitchen. Why were they such ‘artful’ people? Why did he have to give up his room for their plans? Why did that girl have to show up unwanted at his doorstep?

The doorknob turning made him jump. He swung around to find her standing at the threshold to his room. She entered his room and kicked the door close as if she owned the place.

“Why didn’t you leave yet, Hero? You obviously hate it very much here.” Hero stood there dumbstruck. Did she just call him Hero? They don’t even know each other. What was her name—Cyndi?

“Why don’t we leave together tomorrow,” she continued. Hero couldn’t quite grasp what was coming out of . Why would he leave with her?

“Because you just will,” she answered him. Did he just ask that out loud? He definitely didn’t. Cyndi slipped a hand into the pocket of her heavy cloak. Was she going to pull out a gun to threaten him into leaving with her? His eyes darted to the door nervously. Cyndi pulled out her hand and the object it was holding. It wasn’t a gun. It looked like a stiff piece of paper. She flipped it so he could see the other side. The color drained from his face. Cyndi held a photo of a woman he hadn’t seen for fifteen years. “You want to meet her, don’t you?”

For Mana—for Mana—you must live for Mana—

It has always been so. You are always living for someone else—someone else other than yourself. Even as a small child.

Why are you such a stupid girl, Cyndi? Why?

All that effort. Trying to save everyone but yourself. Are you worth nothing? Why are you living like a pathetic ghost day after day?

I am curious—what do you see when you look into the mirror? Do you even dare take a glance?

“Leave me alone—leave me alone!” The obnoxious voices in my head. They refused to go away. Each and everyone one of them laughing at me.

Just go jump off a bridge like he did. You’re no better than that weak minded bastard who thought of himself and nothing else.

I doubt he ever loved you. All he wants to see in you was his of a mother.

“Get out—get out! All of you. Get out of my head!”