Memories of a Mother

I close my eyes and think of a time before I was called SCP-166, before I was in the Foundation. Before even the Convent. I remember the tales my mother told me as she braided my hair or trimmed it down. She often spoke of how she met my father, of their times together. I would ask her what was it like.

“Those days were some of the best of my long life. He was curious and easily impressed, much like that of a child,” she would often say. She would always ask what story I wanted to hear. One of the fondest memories is of one I heard multiple times, that of how they met and how they grew to be acquainted.

“As you may have noticed, Dearest, my appearance changes with the seasons of our home. In summer, I am as you see me now: tall and a young woman. In fall, I am crippled and mature. Winter, frail and elderly. Finally in spring, you see me as young as yourself; an infant waiting to grow older. Over the many years of my life, I had grown bored of this constant existence, of the people who bow and cower at my hooves, who bask in my presence and adhere to my every word.

“It had become tiresome and dull. I wished for something new, something to bring me excitement. As I made that wish on a full moon below a falling star, I felt a great force move. Be it fate or some power higher than myself, I do not know. But I do know that the following morning, I found a boy sleeping underneath a tree. While he was not the first child I ever encountered, nor the last, I knew he was there by fate. As I approached him, I felt a power, not one like yours or mine, but a power nonetheless. He was destined for great things, I could tell. I awoke him and awaited for his horror and surprise upon seeing my visage. Yet he did not shirk away, nor did he flee in fear. Instead he looked at me with eyes filled with innocence and told me that I was, in his own words, ‘really pretty‘. It was the beginning of spring, thus I looked to be his age.

“Despite being told by countless others of my beauty, it was your father’s eyes that captivated me as he spoke those words. I never had seen such curiosity and wonder. Playing with him, I giggled and said my thanks. He was about to say his name when I stopped him. Names have power and I dared not to know his true name. Thus I told him, ‘We do not speak names here. I wish to call you Beloved and you will call me as Goddess’. He was confused, so I told him to think of it as a game. We did many things together that day: climbing the trees, watching the clouds go by…so many things. It was the first time in many years that I had fun.

“I was showing him a dance of the forest when he realized that the sun was starting to set. He looked worried, afraid even, and I asked him what ailed him. He told me of how he had wished to be away from his home, of how he wanted to never be with his parents again. But he had begun to have a desire to go back. He missed his own mother and father. I became angry; I did not want my fun to end, I had no desire to become a dull shell once more. I asked him if he was not happy with me, if he did not enjoy my presence. I suppose I was too forceful; he broke out in tears soon after. He cried for his family, and I began to feel that same force take hold of him. Fearing the worst, I called out and begged him to stay, or at the very least to return to me. And he said he would. He vanished soon after, and once more I was alone.

“I waited endlessly for him to return. Day after day I awaited, refusing to even eat. I had realized that for the first time ever, I was truly in love. I no longer spoke the name I gave him out of mere tease and playfulness. I called out to him, begging for him to return. It was almost a year after his departure that he returned, during the middle of a winter. But that story, Dearest, is for another day.”

And so it was, but their reunion was never a story I liked much, as few things happened. My eyes open to reveal a worker of the Foundation enter with a food cart. I smile in response.

“Your roast beef and mashed potatoes, 166, as requested. You’ve been behaving rather well recently,” the worker said. She seemed to be more talkative than most visitors I get.

“I have no desire to make myself a threat to this place or its people. I merely wish to pray in peace. I thank you for this,” I tell her in response. I clasp my hands together and give God my thanks before eating the meal provided to me.