The House in the Cerulean Sea(75)

I try to put myself in the shoes of the villagers; they live near an old house on an island inhabited by magical youth. But since the children are kept away, it allows rumors to run rampant. While some of the children are certainly atypical, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be allowed to enter the village whenever they wish.

Mr. Parnassus seems to be reluctant, though he did promise to think about it. I find it fascinating, the bond he’s created with the children. They care for him greatly, and I believe they see him as a father figure. Never having been a master of an orphanage myself, I cannot attest to the strength one must have in order to run such a household. While it’s certainly unusual, I think it works for them.

However, it could also potentially work against them. Since they will need to leave the island one day, they can’t always depend upon Mr. Parnassus. In my previous dealings with other masters in different orphanages, I have seen everything from bland indifference to outright cruelty. While I can respect the RULES AND REGULATIONS, I think it should be said they are guidelines rather than actual law. And even then, the guidelines were written decades ago, and have never been updated. How are we supposed to enforce something that hasn’t been changed with the times?

I was asked to add more detail about Mr. Parnassus. Here is what I learned:

Phee is a forest sprite, under the occasional tutelage of Zoe Chapelwhite. And I believe because of this, it has enabled her to have more control, possibly greater than any other child sprite I’ve ever encountered, few though they may be. And while it does take her time, she is able to grow trees and flowers unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I believe that Ms. Chapelwhite has helped her in this regard.

Theodore is a wyvern, yes, and when we typically think of one such as him, while considering he is rare, we (yes, we) tend to think them nothing but animals. I can assure Extremely Upper Management that isn’t the case. Theodore is capable of complex thought and feelings, just as any human. He is intelligent and resourceful. Yesterday, after I’d recovered from a bout of food poisoning brought upon by ingesting raw fish, he came alone to the guest house where I reside and asked if he could show me part of his hoard. Notice my use of the word ask. Because he does have language, though it might not be what we’re used to hearing. And even in my short time here, I’ve been able to pick up on the cadences of his chirps.

Talia is a rather grumpy child, but I have attributed that to her being a gnome. At least initially, given that’s what I was taught about her species. I find our perception is colored by what we’re taught. Even as children, we’re told the world is a certain way, and these are the rules. This is the way things are, and one of those things is that gnomes are bad-tempered and will brain you upside the head with a shovel as much as look at you. And while this might describe Talia on a surface level, one could argue that would be the case with most preteen girls. It’s not a species trait. It’s hormones. One only needs to spend the time with her to dive beneath the surface of those waves of bravado to see that she is fiercely protective of those she cares about. Gnomes, as we know, live in what’s referred to as a donsy. At least they did when their numbers were greater. Talia has made her donsy here.

Chauncey is here simply because of what he is. And given that we don’t know what that is exactly, DICOMY needed a place to put him. I believe—and this is not editorializing as much as it is based upon experience—he is considered classified level four simply because of the way he looks. He was told repeatedly he was a monster—by children, by masters, by people in positions who should have known better. The more you beat down on a dog, the more it cowers when a hand is raised. And yet, even though Chauncey had been beaten verbally before Marsyas (I don’t think physically, though words can deliver just as much of a lashing), he is a bright and loving child. He dreams. Is that understood, I wonder? He dreams of a future that he may never have. And while his dreams may seem small, they are still his and his alone.

Sal is the most reticent of the group. He had been physically abused before his arrival on the island. That much has been clearly documented, though it wasn’t provided in the files I was given. Mr. Parnassus showed me the incident reports signed off by DICOMY on the specific instances. The fact that this happened at all was a travesty. The fact that it happened to a boy who is shy and demure is unacceptable. Sal has been here the shortest amount of time and still has a long way to go before I believe he will be fully recovered. But I think he will, because even though he’s sure to be startled at the smallest of sounds, he is blossoming right before my very eyes. He loves to write, and I’ve been fortunate enough to read some of his work. I expect we’ll see great things from him, given the opportunity. Though it brings me no joy to make the comparison again, a dog will cower until they can cower no more. He needs to be encouraged, not feared.

You might be wondering, as I’m sure you are, what this has to do with Mr. Parnassus. It has nothing to do with him. It is because of him that these things are possible. This isn’t simply an orphanage. It is a house of healing, and one that I think is necessary. There was a poet, Emma Lazarus, who wrote, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

You’ll notice, I’m sure, that I haven’t yet mentioned Lucy.

It’s been two days since I started this report. I have taken my time, given that finding the right words seems to be of the utmost importance. Last night, there was an event. I was awoken from a deep slumber by the strangest of incidents.…