Fluxes

She moved her small hands away from her eyes and noted several doctors at stand by. Her main surgeon sighed in relief that she is awake and better responding. She reminds herself that the pressed feeling around her chest and over torso is the cast they made for keeping her broken back together. That the stinging about her stomach is the recovery closer from being impaled. She groans slightly and pats for a pen. Nurse Halley is quick at recognising her needs. Once she is sitting somewhat aligned and at the pose to start writting. Most of the crowd has moved away.

'What happened?' She wrote, 'I was dreaming in my sleep.' They pass the note around to each other once she done. She notice that her normally dark hair has turned white. Mulling over the truth that she knew, it was likely that a attempt to swap souls over was met with a bit of panic from him. Equally that was side affect that was altering each others bodies to better habit the souls for. This her was loosing her girl features, having some sharp changes to her face. Nurse Halley allowed her to see the mirror reflection. Looking at all of her face and hair going through such a change. So what are these human doctors going to diagnosis her with now?

"Ok... so when you went to sleep, you had a seizure and it seemed like your forgotten memory came back to you for a little while. You became panicked and we assume a second seizure followed. You just woke up again." The surgeon explains with taking the paper to draw some examples to further a child from not getting confused about what a seizure is. She stops him with taking the pen.

'I understand what you mean. I have been listening to the staff a while to learnt that much. Would you say my hair colour is different is that just me?' She looks to the doctor in sort expressing the question too. She had even a strains that she was feeling between fingers, wondering if this affected texture too.

"Sometimes stress causes the human body to change hormones." He stops at being uncertain she was going to follow this well. She wrote quickly.

'So my male hormones levels flared up due to pain and stress? Does that change hair colour?' The doctor is pleasantly surprised that she understand at this depth... for 8 year old, it's impressive, 'Will this affect my future too? Will have issues?'

"Its something we can monitor and have medicine to help rebalance. Your very young but sometimes girl start this age to become woman." ah, birds and bees. She plays dumb for this and let the man do a wonderful job at explaining it. She listens well. Once he gotten over the basics, diagrams to add. He then went into some science about the hormones the body uses. We use more male hormones when in pain or needing extra energy to push through. Some accidents with bounts of stress like her can have fluxes of such extremes but it is temporary. She shouldn't really have a problem once she no longer in pain and stress. It take a few months longer for her to become a woman maybe. Nothing is certain even with blood tests. It's nice that the doctors here explained things and choose not to shy subjects away.

Unlike the parents that want to tell thier child it be all fine. The doctors here lay it real and simple. Add a dash of hope and smile, even facing topics like being in unstable condition. Some these children here are for cancer treatment and they view the world with that x-ray past pain. The Surgeon leaves for some other patient and Halley took seat. She looks at a picture that was left there. She turned pale. She really looks at the details of the mask figures stood behind the table of corpses. She slips the paper into the pile of others, choosing not to say anything.

'Its not a nice dream, that picture. Yet I choose to draw them in hope that my memories would somehow just slip back to me carefully. After seeing my sibilings, I did sort of rush myself. I know now that it was a bad idea.' She writes and shows this to Halley. Halley reads it and softly sort of posed about the other pictures. Dahlia nods.

A new paper meaning a new drawing. Dahlia considered many topics to draw and sort of landed at imaging what a ceremony to the Lord of omens is like. She details not only the good omens but the bad ones too. A sort of homage to the sort daily life signs a person without sight can look for. The birds. A black or pure white cat crossing your path. A lucky penny. Broken mirror. Ripped shoe. She truly embraced the celtic myths with adding background knots and serpants. The area that the figure prays in was a cavern carved of battle axes and sheilds. Straps and handles broken or unbreaking under parallel. Most important of all was there being a raven seated on the shoulder of the worshipper, how it sits on the right shoulder and looks backwards at the veiw of the artist. She was soon adding celtic scripting, the sort of thing lost to time and known to few.

"Your art is amazing. Your really good at it." Halley putting papers aside and looks to the current one, "This is amazing for how fast you draw it at too." She peers strange with a sudden angle, "Is this a sort theme about fortune telling?" Hard to tell when veiwing at the side like she is. Dahlia shares in sliding it close for better veiw, although she had not finished the details. Like a dagger at the left side and a looming shadow. Gladly the shroud the follower is wearing is feathers with a clothy veil netting. Halley ponders impressed at the small panel details, like the broken mirror reflected a black cat walking across but the untouched one shows a white cat of pure fluffy fur waiting to be stroked. The cracked pavement under the black cat and the penny at the tail flick of the white. Halley finds it all impressive.

"Would you draw a picture of all of us?" She asks. Dahlia nods but she does so with apprehensive emotion.

A new blank paper, and Halley is called away for helping something. Dahlia stares about the page a while. Not sure how she go about it. What sort of angle and where in the hospital. Theatre was the only place she sees them most together but that is work. She wants to capture a more true to life and people. Closer to the real them. She flicked her gaze to the ward reception hall, where the main hospital follows back to. She considered the angle down the corridor but it wasn't right. Then finally... Pen meets paper.

The nurses laughing together with coffee. The new junior doctor being nervous with the assistant surgeon. The assistant with a file showing to the three doctors of this ward. A few of the nicer children holding hands or clothes at the surroundings at the desk. There is always someone out of bed when they shouldn't, asking for a drink or sweets. A desk can't be empty, the phone always shiny. The bowl of unending sweets, being refilled by someone with a empty packet showing in a pocket. Small things they all have. Rings. phones. The neat touch of how some have neon plasters or watches hung on the breast pocket. The flayer of how they dress matters, even if it is the same uniforms. This picture was the timestamp of those that made this children ward work and safe. She was at the neat touches when she was waved with being tired again.

She put the pen down and rubs both eyes. Not quiet finished yet.