Many Thoughts

“I am who I am after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name? Repeating it over and over; I stand apart to hear- it never tires me.” These words from Walt Whitman always struck a cord with me. I always made the words my own, curling up into them like a blanket on a long, cold night. I believe it’s because I chose my own name; my own identity, that it resonated with me as much as it does. I have always been an outcast from everyone else, never quite fitting- not fitting the gender binary, being bisexual, and something far beyond that. I am not the only one who occupies my mind. Many spirits live with me, guiding me, supporting me. I am there host, they cannot harm me. I am in control.

"Afra!"

I heard my name, presumably called by my father.

"Time to get ready for bed!"

Now was NOT a good time.

"Just a minute!" I yelled back at him, focusing hard. My mission was to save a soul caught in the void between life and death, a soul who had requested harborage in a human's mind. Even after years of doing it, it was tedious and dangerous work.

"How are you doing?" I called to Molina, who was an angel and taking charge of bringing the soul back from the void, while I anchored her, making sure her spirit didn't get caught in the void.

"Almost got 'em!" she replied, voice clear and enthusiastic as always.

"Coming back now!!"

"Roger that!" I replied, helping her back into my mind. For a human, I had exceptionally strong psychic abilities, a hosted something known as a 'soul harbor'- a safe place for all souls, as long as they followed my rules and regulations.

"AFRA! NOW!"

My father's voice yelled, calling me into the physical present.

"Coming!" I called, and hurried up stairs to brush my teeth.