SUSANNAH STEWART | TALES FOR NAUGHTY CHILDREN

Don’t Tell Your Parents

I can see into your hearts

The heart says what only the heart knows.

Lou Reed

The secret self lurks Stalking shadow and sunlight For revelation Hearts break in pleading losses And rise in resurrection

My sisters and I are semi-retired now, living quietly and running a small shop with odd merchandise and irregular hours. We call it From Beginning to End.

You must visit, children. There are many things there to interest you.

We are content here now, but in years past, our lives sometimes seemed dull. At times, we had spirited debates to liven things up.

“You mean heated arguments that bordered on fistfights,” the oldest sister interjected.

“Let’s just say we had conflicting opinions on different matters,” added the youngest sister.

“Now ladies, remember I’m the one telling this story.”

There was an occasion when we disagreed on the influence of nature versus nurture in the matter of raising children. The discussion continued, off and on, for several days, with no one gaining the upper hand. Finally, we determined to conduct an experiment to prove which of us was right.

To start, we had three orphans, two girls and a boy, brought to a village to be adopted.

How did we do that, you ask?

Well, yes, we may have slightly misled you when we implied our previous jobs were as school teachers. Just accept we had the power to make such arrangements.

The families that would adopt each child were the opposite of that child’s basic nature, thus providing nurture that might pull the child in the opposite direction.

One girl favored destruction and despair, covering her darkness through clever manipulation, making herself pleasing to others. You could taste the cruelty and malice in her black heart. Her name was Mara. She went to a kind and loving family.

The other girl was a creature of caring and compassion. But she was fearful that if she reached out to others and revealed herself, she would be hurt. She rarely spoke, so that most thought her cold and unfeeling. She had created a hard shell to protect her tender heart. Her name was Hannah. She went to a voluble, unkind couple who cheated and fought their way through life.

The boy was neither cruel like Mara nor frightened like Hannah, but had so little confidence in himself that he constantly craved the admiration and attention of others. Like Mara, he made himself pleasing, but he genuinely cared for people, as did Hannah. His heart was light and warm, though riddled with empty spaces. His name was Finn. He went to an independent, stoic man with little regard for the opinions of others.

So there we had the three children, settled into homes that would provide environments in complete opposition to their essential natures.

Would their upbringing change their paths, or would they follow the inclinations already set into their hearts? Unfortunately, my sisters and I knew we would have to wait several years to see the results.

We came back to see the children in the year they were to turn sixteen. So far, nature had prevailed over nurture. Mara had become even more evil amid her kind and loving family. Finn still clung to what other people thought of him, though he had accomplished much on his own. Despite the neglect and mistreatment Hannah endured, she had become more compassionate and engaged with others, though it was still difficult for her to communicate.

Both girls professed to love Finn. But only Hannah’s love was true. The love of Mara was a mockery, a cruel sham intended to destroy him and break Hannah’s heart. Mara despised and wished ill to the wide world and all within it, but her hatred was strongest for her two early companions, though she was careful to hide it.

Mara offered the pleasing ways, the feigned interest, the constant flattery that Finn craved, while Hannah quietly cared for and supported him. But, as anyone who understood men could have predicted, it was no contest. Though he admired and loved Hannah, Mara was his preferred companion as they grew older.

The villagers who wished her well feared that rejection might break Hannah’s heart and cause her to retreat within herself once more. Strangely, instead, the realization that she was not Finn’s choice softened the shell around Hannah’s heart, leaving her still tender and caring but now more assertive and open to the world.

She had always known the evil in Mara. Now she looked at Finn with clear eyes, seeing his goodness and strength undermined by his craving for others’ approval and admiration.

To overcome this failing was his fight. Hannah could not help him. She left the village to make her way into the world.

Not long after, Mara, accompanied by Finn, left as well.

I thought that was an end to the matter, but my sisters insisted we let a few years pass and return for one more look into the children’s lives when they were finally grown. I agreed. And there the story ends, for now.

“So, children, would any of you like me to tell the secrets of your heart?”

Since he had the tenderest and most easily bruised feelings, the abrupt conclusion horrified the youngest boy, who had listened raptly for the change that would lead to a happy ending.

“What do you mean, that’s the end? That’s a horrible place to stop the story. How could you let the mean girl win? Are you a witch who wants to tell sad stories that make us unhappy so you can put a spell on us?”

He stomped away. “No, I don’t want to hear any secrets you might find in my heart!”

The oldest girl, who had long been having her own thoughts about the old woman and her sisters, said sharply.

“Stupid boy, can’t you see she’s a goddess, not a witch. Not that there is anything bad about witches. You’ve been hearing too much patriarchal propaganda from your father.”

“What’s more, I don’t believe that’s the end of the story.”

“Aren’t you the clever girl?” the old woman said and smiled slyly.

“Yes, more happened between Mara and Hannah and Finn.”

“But that’s a tale for another time.”

Susannah Stewart sat back in the old rocking chair, having finished telling the nature versus nurture experiment story to her best friend, her dictionary, Merriam-Webster.

“What do you think, Merriam? Isn’t that a good story? Don’t you like how I gave it that cliffhanger ending?”

Merriam Webster: unknown: not known

Susannah frowned. “Oh, okay, I ended there because I don’t know what the rest of the story is yet. But I bet it will be really good when I do figure it out.”

Read more Tales for Naughty Children.

The walls never speak Clutching their secrets tightly But sometimes they smile

Death bell rang beneath the water Blackbird flew at dawn Ruby Nell, she does not answer us No one knows where she has gone