I had a dream about this story--creepy, I know. But, I did. So, here goes.
My name is M. Just M. It doesn’t stand for anything—it’s just the letter M. I have no parents, so I don’t know where my name comes from. It’s just M.
I lost my parents in an accident—or so the orphanage says. I was in that accident, and when I woke up, I was already in the orphanage. And, they were already calling me M, so I assume that it’s just M.
Last name? No, no last name. It’s just M.
The nun who takes care of this orphanage is never here to look at me. Or maybe she sees me, but she says nothing—not like the other kids. She always scolds them or hugs them or cracks her ruler on their knuckles. Never at me. Never at me.
And, that’s why no one pays attention to me. They either think that I get special attention from Sister Nina or that I’m too much of a trouble maker and they don’t want to play with a trouble maker because if they do, then they’ll get punished too.
They also don’t like my name. My name M. They say that I’m weird because everyone else has names like John, Kate, Marie, Jessica, Alex…
I envy them. There’s a big book that shows the significance of people’s names. Like Daniel means “God is my judge”, or Theresa means “harvester”. But, my name means nothing.
Lately, more and more people are getting adopted. Just yesterday, someone came to take Amie away. She looked like she was going to a good house. Her new parents seem rich.
But, Amie was young; she was only four.
I don’t know my age, but every time I look in the mirror, I suppose that my face kind of looks like Mathew, Ursula, or Tammy: possibly around thirteen.
And, everyone still thinks it weird that I don’t know how old I am or where I’ve come from. They call it “Amnesia”. I find it even more weird when I ask Sister Nina who I am, or anything that might prove useful to me, and she says she’ll tell me, but ends up not telling me. It’s been like that for five years—it’s been like that since I came here.
Thus, I don’t have a birthday—not like the other kids. My birthday is supposed to be the day I woke up in the orphanage—November 21. Every year, I get a small present from Sister Jane—the highest sister. Usually, it’s a small cake with a new sweater or a pair of shoes for the upcoming year. Nothing that I really want, but I can’t ask for more. No, I won’t ask for more, because it’s more than enough. It’s what I need.
She’s the only one who seems to care about my birthday. Usually, the other birthdays are celebrated with other children—but, rarely, there is another person who wants to celebrate my birthday.
Until, this year. Today.
Her name was Mika. It was a nice name, and it started with an M, like mine did. She was a new girl—they said that her parents couldn’t handle her with their finance and whatnot.
She was a nice girl. Yeah, very quiet. She mostly kept to herself during the past few days. And, then, on the twenty-first, she saw Sister Jane hand me my gifts.
“Today’s your birthday?” she asked.
I nodded.
She smiled. “Can I join?”
I looked at her strangely—I remember. But, nonetheless, I nodded. We had that chocolate cake and she marveled at my new sweater.
“This is good.” She looked at me. “What’s your name?”
I remember my throat closing up and my pulse racing. My name? My name was…Was… “…It’s M.”
“Em?”
“M.”
“Like Emily? Or Emma?”
“No, just M.”
“It’s not a nickname?”
“Just M.”
“How do you write it?” She brought out a notebook and a pen.
I wrote it for her. When she got it back, she stared at it. “Just M?”
“Just M.” My voice sounded so small and frightened.
“…A last name?”
“I have nothing. It’s just M…”
She nodded. “…Well, that’s okay, M. M is a great name—yeah, easy to say, too. Everyone can say M’s name. And, there’s only one M in the whole world...”
As expected, the way she said it made me feel very special. There’s only one M in the whole world.
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