VAL DAY-SANCHEZ

Copyright © 2016 Val Day-Sanchez

All rights reserved.

The children file off the bus. Their excited chatter is infused with the idea of being away from their classroom for the day. For most of them it is their first visit to the recently renovated Human Museum.

“Hello students, I am Eleanor and I will be your guide. Follow me." Eleanor moves through the two massive doors. "We'll begin your tour with the human mind. To your left is Psychopath and Psycho killer Hall. This way to Narcissist Corner. Children love this attraction, if you whisper sweet things to them they will let you pass."

The first child approaches. The exhibit looks like the inside of a house. There are mounds of shoe boxes, shopping bags, and clothes with price tags adorning every surface. There are boxes of various appliances and electronics strewn about. There is a human woman inside, brushing her hair.

"Your hair is lovely." Says the little boy.

"Oh thank you, it's so hard to keep up with it when I have so much to take care of for my family."

"Do you have children? What are their names? What are they like?"

The narcissist slams the door. The child jumps back, shocked.

"Young man," Eleanor begins. "Narcissists don't like to hear about others, they only like praise. Go on try again, this time keep it brief and only focus on the woman."

The child knocks on the door and it opens. The woman looks up at the boy expectantly.

"Hello, you're very beautiful.""Oh no, I'm getting old.""No, you're perfect."

The doors open and the boy sees a little girl behind the inside of the house, she is all alone. Her clothes don’t seem to fit her properly and her hair is in one of those intricate braids, that she probably had to sit long tortuous hours for.

"Excuse me, Miss Eleanor what kind of a human is this?" The boy asks."That is a narcissist child.""Do I say nice things to her too?"

"Oh no she won’t believe them. Her parents made sure that they only said nice things to her in public, when they could be seen for having such a wonderful child. At home they were neglectful of the child, only paying her attention when they needed her to compliment them, or to lash out at the child."

A look of confusion formed on the boy’s face. “What do I do?"

Miss Eleanor looked at the boy kindly. "Talk to her.""You have horrible parents."

"No, they aren't so bad. I told someone once, how they really are when we get home but they told me everyone loves them, so I must have been mistaken. They said maybe I was just too sensitive or confused. I forget how things really happen."

The boy had never heard such a thing and once again he was confused. "Just remember what's true. That's what I do."

"There are lots of truths."

The boy didn’t believe this. "No there's only one, yours."

"But no one believes me."

"One day they will.” The boy thought for a moment. “When I grow up I'm going to fly around the world. I won't talk to anyone but the birds until I decide to come down."

"You'll be away from your parents?"

"I'll be away from everyone. What will you do when you grow up?"

"I'll be able to find my truth."

The next door opened and Eleanor led the students to the Depression Conservatory.

"Miss Eleanor what do we say to them?"

Miss Eleanor turned to address the students. "Depression is physically painful and debilitating yet humans often thought it was a choice, a mood, a temporary state. Here students you must show empathy and understanding."

The little boy made his way up to a man in his pajamas. He was sitting in front of a window with a wonderful view and the little boy wondered why he wasn't enjoying his view. He decided to ask him just that. "Why are you looking at your hands and not at the beautiful garden?"

"I hadn't noticed." The young man explained and the little boy felt like he didn't want him there but he remembered what Eleanor had said.

"What does it feel like in your head?"

The young man sat up and looked at the little boy. "It feels like I'm stuck."

The boy looked around, there didn’t seem to be anything or anyone holding the man there. "Can't you move?"

"It's a big heavy rock, just my size, and it lays across me. When I try and move it there's a voice that creeps in and tells me I shouldn't bother. So that's two very strong forces who would rather I be here than out there. Not with my family, not with what's left of my friends and then the voice says that they don't want me so I sit here. It’s just as well. There have been times, when I was strong and was able to move the rock get outside and see everyone. But my family and friends make me feel like climbing back underneath it. They think I just need fresh air, sun on my face, a girlfriend, they don’t understand the problem is in me. It’s inside me, all the time."

The little boy considers this. "I’ll be your friend and I'll never tell you to stay here or to go out there. You seem very capable of deciding what you want."

The young man studies the boy and speaks very carefully when he responds. "I think I'll sit here for a bit."

"That sounds lovely."

The doorto another exhibit opens but the boys sees something in the back corner of the conservatory. It looked like an older version of the narcissist's daughter.

"Hello, what are you doing in this exhibit?"

"After I left home I had difficulty trusting others. I didn't know what was real. I would call home for guidance and get led further into the darkness. When I cut ties with them I lost myself. I'm constantly struggling to find who I am."

The boy thinks about this. How hopeless it sounds. "What happened to you was horrible but---."

The narcissist daughter cuts him off, angry now. "--I know it was. I try and tell my family but they only blame me. They say I’m the cause of my own unhappiness. How do you move on from something without any closure? No validation of your feelings. Years of secret abuse and your abuser are never held accountable."

The little boy doesn't know what to say, instead he reaches up to the exhibit, getting as close to the electronic enclosure as he can without harming himself or the exhibit. "You can pull through." The boy moves through the open door to the Anxiety Corridor. There is an ocean and a setting sun. The human in the exhibit is standing on the water's edge, pacing and scratching at the same raw portion of skin on their arm.

"Hello?" The little boy asks.

When the exhibit turns around the boy sees that it is the narcissist's daughter, she is just a few years older than the previous exhibit. She has changed her hair and the boy sees tattoos on her arms.

"Why are you here?" The boys asks curiously.

"I've moved past my sadness and anger but I worry that I can never leave my family. I can't abandon them, not when everyone else seems to be able to be around them. No one else gets hurt. I spend time with them, hoping to change myself so that I'm not so easily offended. Time with them makes me itch. It makes my stomach ache. Once I was sick for days after seeing them. My head feels heavy and all my muscles tighten. I talk nonstop in order to avoid their criticisms that are laced with foe kindness. Their sickeningly sweet backhanded compliments can't reach me if I never stop talking. I beg for their praise when I know I'll never get it. Afterwards I'm sure that I am losing my mind. I live two lives now. One where I am content but alone the other where I am anxious but surrounded with my family. What do I do?"

"In school they told usnot to tell you.”

“What are you talking about?” Now she looks confused and she starts scratching her arm relentless.

The boy pauses, not sure if he should continue. When he contemplates his alternative he decides to forge on. “I can't watch you like this. You aren't real. You are a memory of your former self. My planet's army took over Earth a hundred years ago. We built a museum encapsulating your race, we do it with all the planets we capture. You died decades ago." The little boy whispers this not wanting to get in trouble for breaking the rules.

She looks shocked and then the boy thinks he sees relief in her eyes. "What happened to me?"

"I'm not sure, this is the last exhibit before we move to the chambers of the human heart."

"I hope I was finally happy."

"Then you were."

Valerie Day-Sánchez enjoys reading and writing across genres, although young adult is her favorite at the moment. Threshold is her first attempt at Sci-Fi. Her other work consists of YA Fantasy Trilogy, Harlow Whittaker. She received both her B.A. and M.A. in Communication Studies from New Mexico State University. Her love of the desert Southwest keeps her close to home although she loves to travel, especially when she gets a chance to try the local cuisine. Playing with her two sons and the family’s Boston Terrier, Winston, are how she occupies her time when she’ not writing.