Knights of Mischief

It a beautiful day to start a morning.

It was surely a wonderful day, but it turned into a sad occasion—a mocking prelude to the sorrowful gathering held for their loved one.

A small crowd of people, clad in black ceremonial clothes, stood in silence before the coffin to pay their final respects to the departed family member.

Amidst the sorrowful cries and sobbing, a little girl seems to be out of place from the rest.

The child eyes fixated on the coffin, first with a fiery rage, then softening into confused bewilderment. Her head swivelled rapidly from side to side, scanning the crowd with a frantic verve. She moved quickly and abruptly, almost stumbling over her own feet as she startled at every noise she heard around her.

The child trembling watching her surroundings, realizing something was amiss.

She grew increasingly unsettled, her face pale as tremors ran through her tiny frame. She stood frozen in fear, trapped in a world that suddenly felt vast and alien. Her gaze darted in search of something—or someone—to help her with her ordeal.

Suddenly, an adult woman knelt down and enveloped the child in a warm, comforting embrace.

Soon after, with a soothing voice, she spoke in a gently, attempting to calm the bewildered and frightened girl.

"My dearest child Kimmi," the woman said softly, her eyes meeting the girl with a steady, comforting gaze. She pulled the child close, her voice trembling. "Don't let your father passing fill your heart with sorrow."

She gently caressed the girl head, her hand brushing away a tear that wasn't there. "He gave his life to protect our home from the enemies. He was… a hero," she continued, her tone soft but resolute. "We should be proud of him."

But as she looked into the girl eyes, she noticed the child cold pale face, and wide-eyed terror—more fear than sadness.

The woman heart clenched.

A teardrop rolls down her cheek as she looked at the child. Then, she smiles lovingly as she softly continued caresses the child head. "I will protect... you, as he did for us."

As the child listened to the woman nonsensical chatter, a sudden wave of excruciating migraine swept over her, causing unbearable pain and leaving her feeling weak and nauseous.

She let out a low, trembling sigh, her voice barely audible. "This… can't be real."

As the child uttered those words, the woman pulled the child into a fierce embrace, as if she understood the meaning behind the words the child was trying to convey. Suddenly, the child body went limp, collapsing into the woman trembling arms.

The crowd gasped, and several people rushed over to her side, their expressions a mix of concern and urgency. The town healer, already present during the funeral ceremony, swiftly carried the fainted child away in his arms as whispers of worry spread through the gathered townsfolk.

Time slipped away as evening melted into night.

As the little girl finally awakens from her deep sleep, she found herself lying neatly on a bed in an unusual bedroom of sorts. She shifted slightly, trying to make herself feel comfortable, then she glanced at the room window and noticed it was already nighttime. Her eyes continued to dart around, taking in the rest of the room.

The rooms filled with an array of small and large wooden figurines scattered throughout the walls, tables, and even tucked away in corners behind doors.

Despite feeling out of place, she did not pay much attention to her surroundings.

She would rather think about what had happened to her before she fainted. She began piecing together her memories and make sense of what had happened, but it ultimately led to no clear conclusions. As time went on, her thoughts became more clearer.

'Am I dreaming of watching of my own funeral or someone else?' The child thought and continues. 'Oh yes! Now I remember why I am so baffled.' She nods slowly, grasping the gravity of her situation. The fact that she awakens in an unfamiliar place can only be explained by one thing. "I must have been dead."

'Death eh…' The child let out a sigh as she uttered those word. Instead of feeling frightened and sorrowful, she was left feeling frustrated.

She gazed up at the ceiling and muttered, 'but that is impossible. How can a person know they are dead?' As the silence lingered, her anxiety began to mount.

The child lay quietly in her room, her eyes fixed on the lantern hanging from the ceiling, casting a soft warm glow around the room. She believed that she had indeed died, as it was the only possible explanation for her current situation.

"What is death anyway?" she whispered to herself. "Is it the end or the beginning."

Death is often seen as the transition of a soul to another state of existence. Yet, despite this belief, why does she feel trapped rather than free? This question continues to haunt her mind, prompting her to ponder why she harbours such thoughts.

'Why maybe… maybe because I can't remember anything?' she thought. A glimmer of hope arose in the child mind. How could she be thinking about 'Death' without any prior memories from before living? Perhaps she hadn't actually died but had simply lost her memory.

'Amnesia?' she guessed that her condition was caused by amnesia, a condition characterized by partial or complete loss of memory. However, she could not recall how she can understand such thing without preliminary knowledge about it. Perhaps she might have a memory gaps because she clearly is forgetting important details of her condition.

The child got out of her bed and started pacing in circles, deep in thought about her current circumstances. Suddenly, she stopped as her eyes caught a small, framed picture of a family perched atop a tall dresser. She walked toward it and leaned up for a closer look.

'Who are these people…?' The child wondered, as she looked at the picture and held it firmly. 'Are they… supposed to be my family?'

The picture shows two adult female and male hugging a child. She did not recognise the man in the picture, except for women and child. She remembers the women in that picture, she was the same person who proclaim herself as her mother and called her Kimmi.

'Kimmi? Who was that?' She had never heard anyone refer to her as Kimmi before. Perhaps she had misheard what the women earlier, she thought, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her mind.

As she examining the child face in the picture, she was struck by the strong resemblance to herself in her youth. She believed she had curly chestnut hair, green eyes, light pale skin and cute buck teeth in her youth as well.

However, as she strained to recall any shred of memory to affirm her claim, a chilling realization crept in. There was nothing. No fragments of her past surfaced to validate this familiarity, casting doubt on everything she thought she knew about her own life.

Perhaps all that was just her instinct, telling her something she had yet to realized.

"Ouch…." She twitches her head, feeling a sudden sharp pain pierce her head. "What could all this mean." The child mutters, ignoring the pain.

She takes the picture with her and then she looks around the room, in search of a mirror to confirm her suspicion.

A moment later, after a thorough search for a mirror, the child found a dusty handheld mirror hidden under the dresser, and then compared herself with the child in the picture. She was surprised to find the result she was looking for. The child in that picture really did have the same appearance as her in the mirror, but that's not what surprised her.

"I look young… and small… but she is clearly not me…" The child mutters, believing that she was older than she really was.

The child realizes the person in that mirror may not be her at all, a sudden realization from the fact causing her to suffer acute migraine. Whenever she attempted to recollect her past, she would suffer a pain, as if something were trying to prevent her from remembering.

As she underwent continuous pain, she went back to bed to rest.

While laying on her bed the child mumbles "I'm not dead…Yet" with a soft sigh, she closed her eyes.

In the depts of her mind, she drifted through the shadows, lost in a vastness of the void, desperately searching for a fragment of her past. Each step felt heavier as she felt pain with every attempt to probe an answer from her sealed memories.

Kimmi was not her real name. She believed she was once called by a different name, but she couldn't remember it. She though that she was beyond the age of this body, yet not too old to called an elder. Perhaps she was an adult, but she could not be so sure. In her mind, nothing was certain.

Her amnesia left her clueless about her identity, and the foreign surroundings hinting at a sinister truth—she might had been kidnapped and taken away to a place where she was less likely to receive help from the local. This could explain her memory loss. Perhaps she had been drugged, or maybe she suffered a critical head injury. Or—perhaps she was simply descending into madness, where reality blurred with fantastical tales spun by her own imagination.

She experiences a deep sense of disconnection from her surroundings, almost as if she is drifting away becoming nonexistence leaving her in a constant state of mental and physical exhaustion.

Waking up in unfamiliar surroundings only to find herself amidst a funeral, she was engulfed by sheer terror. The crowd of unfamiliar faces and the overwhelming grief in the air sent her mind spiralling into chaos. All the guests attending the funeral appeared to be reapers to her, and she was terrified.

So terrified, she was jolted at every noise and shuddered at every movement around her.

In her frantic state, she couldn't grasp the situation, a creeping sense of paranoia started to take hold, clouding her thoughts and rising even more sense of dread.

Out of nowhere, a woman dressed in black enveloped her in a tight embrace, her grip firm and desperate, as she addressing her a name she didn't recognize. The stranger's voice trembled with emotion, leaving her even more bewildered.

The sudden change in emotion only served to heighten her anxiety. Yet, in the woman embrace, she found an unexpected warmth and comfort, enough to slow her racing heart and ease her mind, offering a surprising sense of peace amidst the turmoil.

For a moment, she felt at peace as her surroundings seemingly stood still as her mind attempts to shut down all her senses.

As she calmed down, she surrendered to the feeling of drowsiness and then fell into a deep asleep.

Where nothing exists—a void, a feeling of emptiness.

 A Blank Slate.

A week slipped by, and the madness eased as time pressed onward.

Throughout the weeklong span, the little girl endured a harrowing mental battle, her fragile mind wrestling with the relentless weight of grief and fear. Each day dragged her through multiple turbulent of emotion. As the days continue passing, the chaos within her began to settle, and she slowly came to terms with her new reality, accepting her new life whether or not her memories returned.

She theorized that sudden burst of uncontrollable emotion stemmed from her relentless attempts to rationalize her situation through logical thinking. She believed that any learned person should understand that everything could be explained using facts, logic, and science.

Yet, as it continued, she found herself blending mysticism and miracles into the equation—a mix that ultimately broke her mind. By the end of the week, she was more drained than enlightened, but still felt relieved and grateful, as none of the terrible thing she had feared came to pass.

During that time, she finally learned the name of woman who hugged her during the funeral ceremony, and her name is Catherine Anne Gustmill or in short Cane, as she had overheard people call her in the kitchen during their visits to the house.

A new day has begun on one quiet morning.

A fresh morn light streamed through the kitchen windows, illuminating the steam rising from a pot of boiling stew and revealing the faint shimmer of dust particles floating lazily in the air. The comforting scent of honey and toasted bread lingered, increasing the appetite of anyone who was famished.

A woman with short brown hair stood by the stove, her silhouette framed in the light gracefully plating a food on a plate. With a flick of her finger, she extinguishing the fire on the stove, then turned to the table, placing a plate of food in its centre.

She glanced at the table, a smile spreading across her face as satisfaction washed over her from the sight of the meal she had prepared. But as her eyes swept over the table, she realized someone was missing.

She took a deep breath and called out, "Kimmi! Breakfast is ready!" Her voice rang through the house, echoing down the hallway.

There was no answer. With a long sigh, she shook her head, picked up a plate of food, hung a wooden water flask on her waist belt, and started walking toward the hallway.

As she reached the end of the hallway, she turned toward the last door—her daughter bedroom. She leaned in, pressing her ear to the door, trying to catch any sound from within. After a brief silence, a muffled voice broke through.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!, why!, no!" a muffled voices of a small a girl, seemingly arguing with someone or something.

She let out a sigh, ignoring what she had just heard, and gave the door two gentle knocks.

Knock Knock

"Kimmi, are you in there? She called softly, "May I come in?"

A moment passed before the muffled voice responded. "Yes, Come in…"

As she pushed the door open, her breath caught in her throat. The room was impeccably neat though cluttered with wooden sculptures—some small and simple, others grand and intricate. She realized the room was quiet and still, no one was inside—just her.

"Kimmi?" she blurted out, her brows knitting together in turmoil as she scanned the room, wondering where her daughter had gone.

Suddenly, in the silence, a voice came from below. "Down here…"

Catherine eyes snapped to the floor. Under the bed, a little girl had wedged herself into a narrow space below the bed. Slowly, her head popped out, her hair sticking up at odd angles and covered with cobwebs and dust, as she blinked innocently at her mother.

"You called me, Cane?" she said, as if hiding under the bed was a perfect normal pastime.

Catherine let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing as she spotted her daughter still in the room. "What are you doing under there, dear?" she asked, a mix of curiosity and amusement flickering in her eyes.

Kimmi blinked, her eyes glancing over ahead avoiding eyes contact from her mother. As she scrambled for an explanation. "Uh… I don't know. It just felt right?" she said in her casual tone.

Catherin raised an eyebrow, eyeing Kimmi curiously. "Oh! Did you find any treasure while you were down there?" she teased, the corners of her mouth quirking up.

Kimmi huffed and delved back under her bed. She shuffled her hand and feet, pushing out toy and a few other odds and ends, all covered in years of dust. Then she crawled out, stood up, and began brushing dust off her clothes.

As Kimmi patted herself down, Catherine raises her arm high to shield her plate of food from the falling dust.

Once the dust settled, Catherine immediately pinched off a piece of bread coated with honey and holding it out toward her daughter.

Kimmi without hesitation take a whole bite of the morsel from Catherine fingers. She swallows the food without even chewing it.

"I can eat by myself!" she said, swallowing another bit of food from her mother, "You don't have to do this anymore."

Catherine chuckled, "Oh, I'm sure." She keeps her pace feeding her daughter. She didn't listen to her daughter demand.

After a failed attempt to convinced her mother, Kimmi eyes narrowed with determination. Without warning, she snatched the plate from her mother hands and began devouring every piece and bit of food on it. Bite after bite, she glances at her mother to show her resolve, finished it all in front of her. When she was done, Kimmi gave a wide smile of victory, showing her mother what she could do.

Catherine was astonished by her daughter actions, so much so that she forgot the rude behaviour of her snatching the plate. She clapping her hand happily before taking the empty plate and placed it on a nearby dresser.

"Now, since you done eating," Catherine said, pulling out a white handkerchief. She leaned in, gently wiping Kimmi mouth with a handkerchief. Then, holding up her open palm, she added, "Freeze".

In that moment, the air in the room instantly become humid and colder. Around Catherine palm, a vortex of wind appeared, swirling as an icy cylinder of a cup miraculously formed in her palm.

Catherine pulling out a wooden water flask hanging from her waist and poured steaming water into the icy cylinder glass, a soft simmer rising as the heat met the frosted surface. She quickly added a single dried leaf, watching it unfurl as she swirled the glass gently before handing it to her daughter.

Kimmi hesitated, her eyes fixed on the glass as she watched the intriguing phenomenon unfold, unsure of how her mother had done it. After a few moments of intense observation, she realized something. "Cane, it about to melt!" she exclaimed, noticing the glass growing thinner by the second. Her eyes widened as she understood—the water from the flask was probably really hot.

Catherine expression did not falter as she held the icy glass, her steady composure contrast to Kimmi nervous anticipation. "Go on," she said gently, her tone reassuring. "It shall not melt, my dear—I promise."

Kimmi wide eyes darted between her mother and the glass, her mind racing as she braced for the inevitable. But as moments passed, the glass remained intact. To her astonishment, the glass held firm, its frosty surface defying the heat as the water gradually cooled.

Kimmi cast a final glance at the icy glass before taking it from her mother hand.

The moment it was in her grasp, the icy glass began to slowly melt. She could feel it slipping from her hand, prompting her to grip the bottom of the glass. Acting quicky, Kimmi brought it to her lips, drinking it down before it melts entirely. To her relief, the water was pleasantly warm, though it tasted a tad bland on her tongue.

As the icy glass melted in her hand, water trickled through her fingers until it slipped free, landing on the floor and forming a small puddle of water.

Kimmi felt a slight annoyance as she looked at the puddle of water in the floor, heart aching to remove it immediately. She stepped into the puddle and began swiping it with her bare foot, spreading it evenly across the floor to maximize the surface area and help it dry faster.

"Kimmi, please stop playing with the water." Catherine said, her voice firm but soft, filled with a mother gentle concern.

"I'm not playing, I'm cleaning!" Kimmi protested, her little face full of determination as she shuffled her feet over the puddle. But as she glanced down, she noticed the water was turning murkier. Her stomach sank as she realized her feet were dirty from crawling under the bed.

"I'm sorry…" Kimmi muttered, embarrassed, holding her head and swaying it side to side.

Catherine immediately noticed her daughter distress. With a soft smile, she gently cupped Kimmi face in her hands and pulled her into a tender hug. "I'm sorry, dear. I Know you were trying to help," she murmured, swaying side to side following her daughter rhythm in her arms.

After a moment, Catherine pulled back slightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Kimmi forehead. "Feeling better now?"

"Much! Much better!" Kimmi grinned, giving her mother a thumbs-up before quickly darting out of the room.

Catherine sighed, watching her daughter dart out of the room with a burst of energy. Shaking her head with a fond smile, she collected the plate and followed her out, leaving the room quiet and still.

The Household and The Madness

The heart of the house, a mother gentle embrace or her vertical mace.

Over the past few days, Catherine showed love and care by comforting her child during a challenging moment. She believes that her daughter is suffering from shock after the death of her father. Furthermore, Kimmi, her daughter, has always been a very sick child ever since she was little.

Catherine, the newly acquired mother, or to be precise, Kimmi mother, was like an angelic figure, the mother everyone could ever ask for, ensuring she was well-fed and loved. Kimmi new life was filled with her lazily lounging around, waiting for something to happen. Her only world is the room and the house in which she has trapped herself.

Once in a while, she would sense an intense glare from Catherine observant eyes. It followed her every move, every action she made, like a hawk watching its prey. Even thought there was no malice, she could not help but feel uncomfortable.

Kimmi suspects that Catherine might not be her real mother. If she were, surely Kimmi would feel some sense of familiarity, but instead, she felt nothing—Catherine seemed more like a stranger or a mere roommate, albeit a caring one.

This thought left her wondering, perhaps both her and Kimmi did not share anything at all—not even memories. Maybe she was a stranger soul trapped in a child body, or perhaps she was just a crazy little girl, or worst Catherine was indeed a kidnapper.

'But if that were true, why hadn't her instincts kicked in? Why did she feel safe rather than danger? Maybe, just maybe, this was all a mind game.'

She couldn't trust her yet, perhaps in time she would. Trust was a fragile thing, it had to be earned through understanding and shared experience. She knows nothing of Catherine except that she claimed to be her mother.

She needed to know every facet of the woman's fears and joy, past history and goals in life.

As of now, she will learn and try to assume the identity of Kimmi to protect herself and assimilate into her new surroundings.

Breezy Midday.

The urges and turmoil churn within, a storm of thoughts that will not thin.

Kimmi sat on the floor in the middle of the day in her bedroom, waiting for time to pass. She felt restless, as if she was hurt, causing her to shift her body from side to side. However, she was not suffering from any pain but rather from a lack of activities.

"Boooring… My god… BOOORING…" Kimmi frustration echoed through the room. She felt terribly bored, she unable to think of any fun pastimes to entertain herself all day. The endless boredom gnawed at her, driving her to the brink of desperation.

Kimmi felt her body vibrant with energy, as if it were about to burst out of her. The desire to sprint through the house, scale a bookshelf as if it were a staircase, and leap out of the windows just for curiosity was overwhelming.

She could embark on this idiotic adventure immediately if only it weren't a daily routine to fulfil her urge to cause mayhem.

The urge, she called it—a manifestation of her deeper desire to act on her mind whims. Whenever curiosity took hold, she felt compelled to do something about it. At times, the urge drove her to do something rather dangerous or problematic.

Once, she had an overwhelming desire to climb a bookshelf, all because something had caught her eye. The top of the bookshelf appeared empty—nothing visible within her line of sight—but in her mind, there was something up there, something she had to claim. If she ignores the urges, the thought would consume her—every second, every minute, every hour. It almost maddening.

Failing to resist her will, she climbed it. Lo and behold, there was nothing on top of it. Though it was utterly a waste of time, the urge was satisfied, and could finally relax—at least for a moment, until something else caught her attention.

Doing 'Fun' thing can also helps her manage the urge from overpowering her. By doing mundane thing she can easily distract her urges. But doing so for too long would made her feel frustrated, because in essence it was act against her desire and therefore against the urges.

"I have to calm myself…" Kimmi tries to refrain from doing anything erratic. She crosses her arms and hugs herself to stop herself from wobbling her body.

'If doing activity is no fun… what about creativity?' she thought.

While activities such as adventuring involves mental effort, creativity purely focuses on mental abilities for generating new ideas, such as artistic expression.

Kimmi thought of trying to paint or draw, perhaps even try wood carving, since she can find all the essential tools required to do so in the house storage, thank to her mother Catherine being a woodworker.

Whooosh-

As Kimmi pondering a solution to fix her boredom, she feels a warm breeze washing over her face coming through her bedroom window.

She notices the soft breeze ruffled the curtains and she continues glance at the windows. 'I should not have peaked outside the windows at that times…' as she reminiscing about the last time she looked outside windows and regret it.

The house is a wide two-story house situated in a busy road. They occupy the entire second floor, where a warm breeze swept through the entire room frequently.

Kimmi once tries to alleviate her boredom by peering through the window and looking at the scenery of people and the surroundings.

However, her bedroom window overlooks the alley behind her house, and the view from the rest of the house windows is blocked by a tall wooden wall. Through her bedroom window, she could only see blocks of stone, the wooden wall of their neighbours house and a narrow alley that separated the two buildings. The alley is so narrow that hardly sees people walk past it. But she can hear the bustling street through the window.

Sometimes she even saw a small feline creature rush in and out of the alley.

Yet that was not the reason she felt disappointed.

Whenever she looks out the window, she feels a rush of excitement, longing, serenity, and a desire to be let free. The urges have return and this time it want to go outside to the park though she never had a recollection of this so called park.

Kimmi understood her situation very well, she knows that had to go outside house to fulfil her mental stimulation.

However, she simply could not.

Kimmi was warned by her mother not to go out and was locked inside the house while her mother was away going to work.

Kimmi could easily leave the house without a problem, even if the door was locked. She had already broken into multiple locked doors in the house without any issues while her mother was away.

She just needed to find where all the keys were stored in house, and the locked door would be a problem for the past.

Kimmi believes leaving the house was not the problem.

The problem was, she was afraid of going outside the boundaries of the house. The sense of 'Fear' keeps looming above her head, preventing her from making a decision about whether step outside the house or stay inside.

She doesn't understand why, but her body becomes heavier when she was near of her house's main entrance. She believes that her body might be responding to traumatic event in her life. She still could not pinpoint which one it was, the child Kimmi or her own.

Perhaps she was just nervous of the outside world, not prepared enough, or lacked sufficient information on how to survive if she ever ran away from this house. If that was the case, she just needs gather enough information to build her confidence.

After a long while resisting the longing for excitement, her body began to tremble from stress, leaving her feeling delirious. She struggles to focus on any decision that could alleviate her condition. Helpless, she continues gazing out the window, hoping to soothe her pain, unaware that this only exacerbates the problem in the long run.

"Haaaa… Let's do this!" Kimmi whines as she prepares herself mentally. She knows she cannot help herself, as the stress of boredom will eventually overcome her.

Kimmi drags a chair across the room, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor, and places it carefully in front of her bedroom window. She climbs onto the chair and sits down, her legs swinging idly. With a sigh, she watches the world outside the window, allowing her restless urges to run their course while she tries to calm herself.

Perhaps dreaming about the fun things she could do outside the house would lessen the burden of stress she felt. And so, Kimmi let herself to fall into deep daze, imagining all the thing she could do if only she could leave.

Kimmi eyes grew heavy as she began to murmur softly, her voice barely audible. "We lower the bucket… down it goes… what will it fill up? Nobody knows…" A faint smile tugged at her lips as she added, "Oh well… oh well…" Her words trailed off, blending into the quiet of the room, and soon she drifted into a peaceful sleep.