Blonde. Blonde. Brunette. Blonde. Redhead. Brunette. Blonde. Blonde. Redhead. I groan and fall back on my fluffy pink sheets, tossing another book from my shelf onto the floor. That’s it. I can’t bear to read about another typical girl. I guess I have to face facts: I’ll never look like or be like any of my favorite characters. Unless I gather a bunch of oils to dye my hair, looks like I’m stuck being Little Miss White Hair.

Maybe I read too much. Mimi always comes home with a book or two every time she returns from going out, and nine times out of ten, it’s for me. Of course I’d never turn one down. Being an only child, the characters in my books have really been my only friends. The mothers in the market all tell their sons and daughters not to speak or play with me. No kids even look my direction when I go out. But I never minded being alone; all I need are Mimi and my books. I’ve explored fantastic worlds with brave and charming heroes and heroines, all fighting for what they believe in.  But not once have I read about a protagonist with white hair; the only characters with white hair are the elderly.

Why does this bother me so much? When I was younger I was oblivious to my looks. Mimi always told me I had the most gorgeous locks she’s ever seen. But everything changed when we went to the market when I was six. I was young, but I remember the scene vividly. All the whispering, all the disgusted looks, all the fear. It’s taken until recently for me to go shopping at the bazaar with her, and even when we do, I use the hood of my cloak to hide my face. Unfortunately, nobody who lives near Bear’s Claw forgets a thing. They know the weird girl with white hair is Mimi’s child; of course the child hiding under the cloak next to her is me.

Of course, all sorts of strange people visit the market. Magic users, fairies, traveling merchants, dancers, I’ve seen it all. But none of them have hair that practically glows under the light of the moon. Nobody bats an eye at the women who can turn men into toads, but they all gawk at the girl with white hair.

Maybe this bothers me so much because I’m growing older. Fourteen years old, according to Mimi. A teenager. This is the age where girls doubt their looks, right? Some of the girls in my books do it all the time. So, in that regard, I suppose I’m no different from the baker’s daughters. But it would be nice to have a friend. To have someone I can share my thoughts with. Mimi is amazing and all, but I doubt she’s feeling what I do now, even if she can cast spells and all. Everyone in the market loves her. I just wished they gave me the same chance they gave her. I sigh. I can’t be the only one with white hair out there, right?

Knock knock. “Roselyn?”

“Come in,” I say, sitting up.

Mimi enters and in her hands is a brown leather book. The cover is worn, practically peeling off the base underneath. The front cover barely hangs to the wrinkled spine; it looks like this book has been much better days.

“What’s that?” I ask as Mimi makes her way over to me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Something to make you feel less alone.” She smiles. “I know it’s been hard for you all these years. You haven’t been the same since the incident in the market. Ever since, you’ve been so hard on yourself on your appearance. That’s why I try to tell you how beautiful you are and how much I love you everyday. But by the looks of it,” she glances back at the pile of books on the floor. “You’re still trying to compare yourself to others.”

“How can’t I?” I frown. “Every time we go into town, I get dirty looks. Some people have even stopped coming to your shop because of me.”

Mimi waves my negative comments away. “That’s their loss then. They missed an opportunity to speak with a beautiful young lady.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” She really does say that everyday. “So,” I continue. “What book is that? I’ve never seen it before. Though, to be honest, it looks like it’ll turn to dust if I try to read it.”

“It’s called a Kirah,” She explains, still smiling. She wipes some dust off the cover, careful not to be too rough. As she begins turning the pages, I notice how delicate they are. They’re thinner than tissue paper! It’s a wonder that Mimi can actually turn them. Written on them (not printed) are symbols of an ancient text that I’ve only seen in a few of Mimi’s recipe books.  A few of the pages have grand murals depicting the story on the adjacent page. Some are simple, only having black and white swirls, while others show the world and all the creatures that inhabit it.

“This is the book of the Oras, or the ones who believe in the divine light,” Mimi says, reminiscing as she looks through it.

“Divine light?” I question. “What’s that?” I’ve never heard of the Ora before let alone see this book. I’ve heard bits and pieces of the text and some stories from people in town. According to them, it’s some type of “religion,” whatever that is. Mimi hasn’t mention such a thing once.

“A higher power,” she explains. “It’s what created the universe, it’s what’s inside all of us.”

“Is that what religion is? Believing in higher powers like this?”

Mimi laughs. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. But most of the stuff in religion is man made, like the temples they go to worship.” She shudders. “My mother use to make us all go to temple when were young to pray. But I hated it. There were always too many people. I loved reading the Kirah and the stories it had to tell. Because I think believing should come from your soul, not a bishop’s preaching.”

“Tell me more.” I practically bounce on the bed. All of this is so new, so fascinating. I want to know more about the stories in the Kirah (even though I’ll never be able to read it) and the Oras and what they do in temple. Maybe this is the distraction I needed; Maybe religion will allow others to see I believe the same things they do.

“Another day,” she answers, continuing to turn the pages. “Ah! Here it is. Look at this, Roselyn.”

Mimi stops at a page with a mural on the left and text on the right. The picture is of a stunning woman with long white hair and rose colored lips. Gold, blue, and white feathers jet out her back to form a pair of magnificent wings  while a long, sparkling, white dress flows in the wind. Hey eyes are a vibrant blue; not a sky blue, but a sapphire blue that shines as bright as the light in her hands.

I almost fall off the bed. Her hair...it’s pure white...just like mine. The blue sky behind her makes her shining strands stand out even more, as mine do during the day. She’s so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I look just like her.

“Who is that?” My voice is barely a whisper. I’m so in shock I can barely speak. I have to know who she is, I just have to.

“The Queen of Light,” Mimi answers as she runs her fingers over the text on the other page. “I used to be able to read it almost as I do English. But it’s been years.” She sighs. “I can only pick out little bits and pieces. But don’t worry,” She winks. “Thanks to my mother, I know most of these stories by heart.”

“What does it say?” My heart slams against my chest. I’m so excited I feel like I’m going to throw up. What if the text gives a clue as to why my hair is white, and why maybe others people’s are too; I’m hopeful there’s more than just me out there.

“From what I remember, it tells of the Queen’s beauty and grace. How she was a kind ruler and gave all her children kindness and love. Even those here on Earth. With one touch, she could vanquish all the evil and darkness in someone’s heart and show them the path of light and the generosity it held. With her power, she can cleanse any darkness in the universe. She’s the one the Oras pray to. A deity, a god, a being having powers beyond anything us mortals can imagine.”

Woah…

The Queen of Light sounds incredible. Doing all those things for her people, she must have the kindest and most pure soul in the universe. That makes sense if she’s a god.

“Is that why her hair’s white,” I ask, placing my hand on her picture.

Mimi smiles with her eyes. “That’s what they say. She has so much purity and light in her soul it extends to her exterior, showing everyone her power.”

“A-and her eyes,” I stammer. “They’re a deep blue, just like mine.” I look at Mimi, my hands trembling. “I-I look just like her.”

She rubs my back and pulls me close. “I’m not sure.” Her voice is soft. “The Kirah says some people have powers of light as she does, almost resembling her. It says those people have pure souls too, and were sent to spread light through the world, just as the Queen would have wanted.”

Tiny needles sting the nerves in my fingers. Is that what I am? A servant to the Queen of Light? Hand picked by her to spread light and goodness throughout the world? I never imagined such a being and such power could exist. It’s...a lot to wrap my head around.

“I-is that what I am?”

“Maybe, Mimi answers, rubbing my back. “You’re special, Roselyn,” She whispers. “I’ve always told you that. I don’t have all the answers. I wish I could tell you if you were an apostille or not. But, I do know that you’re special and unique the way you are. And most importantly, my daughter.”

“Why show me this?” I question. “Why tell me all this if it might not mean anything.” If I’m not what the book says I am, then I’m just some ordinary girl with a hair color defect. I know Mimi was trying to raise my spirits and all, but now my heart has a sense of lost hope; there’s no way I can be a servant to the Queen of Light.

“To show you that you’re not alone in the world, Roselyn. To show you that you can still be beautiful with white hair. I don’t care if you’re a god sent messenger or just an ordinary girl. You’re my Roselyn. And my Roselyn is the most beautiful girl in the world. She looks just like the Queen of Light herself.”

“She is stunning,” I breathe. “So radiant she almost takes my breath away.”

“And so are you.” Mimi kisses my forehead.

I smile. The Kirah really did cheer me up. Even if I’m not special like the people in this book, I can have comfort in knowing there are others out there who have looks that resemble mine. I hope one day I have the pleasure of meeting one. “Thank you, Mimi.”

“You’re welcome.” She closes the book and places it on my lap.

“For me? But this is special to you.”

She laughs. “It means more to you than it ever will to me. Plus, I had way too much time with my Kirach when I was a kid. I want you to experience it too.”

“But I can’t read any of it.” I pout.

“You can always ask me to translate,”  she offers, getting up to put the mess of books on the floor back on my bookshelf. “Plus, the pictures are better anyway.”

“You’re really giving me this?” The Kirah sounds like something really special. And Mimi’s going to give it to me just like that.

“Only if you promise not to wear your hood in town and no to talk down about your looks anymore.”

“Deal!” I agree, not even having to think twice.

“Good.” She smiles.

I wanted to stay up and have Mimi read me more stories, but she told me it was getting late. We say our goodnights as I place the Kirah on my bedside table. I can’t help but smile under the covers and Mimi blows the candles in my room out. If people adore and worship the Queen of Light with her white hair, then there’s no reason anyone should think any less of me. And if they do, they probably don’t understand its significance anyway. Not like the Oras do. I bet if one of them saw me they wouldn’t see me as an outcast in society; they’d see me as someone who looks like the god they pray too. Mimi’s right: I have no reason to want to be ordinary. I’d rather have the looks of a Queen than that of a heroine in my novel any day.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3