Wandernell #6 – What’s In a Name?

I thought I could sense the nameless girl in my head considering. I don’t know. It’s a big deal.

“I could just call you Girl.”

Really? How thoughtful.

“I mean, if you didn’t want a real name yet.” She didn’t have to get mad at me. I was trying to help. “It could just be a nickname. ‘Hey, Girl!’ I’ll say. And you’ll say, ‘What, you big lug?’ See what I mean?”

Big lug? Seriously? Never mind about a name. 

The cabin was drawing closer, and I could see a faint light in the window. “I’ve got to call you something. How about Amnesia? It’s like calling someone April because they were born in April, or Sonny, because they’re a boy–”

Or calling someone Ditzy because they’re blond. How about not naming me after the gigantic hole in my brain? She huffed, a long, distinct sound of irritation. Why’d I have to get stuck with such a dork?

The ground here was not as sandy as before. My feet were unused to being bare, and the sharp grass was irritating them. Just ahead was a dilapidated fence that hemmed in a patchy yard and the small, dimly lit cabin. I stopped. I couldn’t work up the nerve to go forward while arguing with the voice in my head. I needed all my wits about me, and this girl was far too distracting.

“Do you want a name or not?”

I want my name.

“We don’t have that. I need to call you something, though. Give me a second.” A second wasn’t going to be enough. When I started to think, I immediately went back to earlier, when the old man had come to me. I should have known. I should have asked questions. I should have protested or broken the pad he gave me or packed a suitcase or something. At least worn something more suitable than a ragged T-shirt and pajama pants. What I wanted to do, above all, was to curl up in a ball in some nice crevice and revel in all the things I had failed to do. How was I supposed to ignore all these pressing thoughts and name a girl I could not see, a girl I did not know?

Then I had it.

“Did you ever read comics?” The old man had pointed out the comics. He had known I’d need to look at things from a less-than-realistic point of view.

Maybe. Why?

“Let’s give you a cool superhero name. You know, like a nickname, but it shows how cool you are. You can keep a secret identity, I don’t need to know your real name. Sound good?”

I don’t know. Depends on the name.

And with a moment’s thought, I had one. “How about Aura?”

Aura. She was trying it out on her non-existent lips. It’s not too bad.

“Aura, it is, then. Not too shabby, if I say so myself.”

So humble.

“So, into the cabin, I guess?”

What are you, chicken?

“I’m properly hesitant. You ever read a story where a lone cabin in the middle of nowhere was a good thing?”

Sure. Now get going. I won’t be stuck inside a coward. So speaks Aura the Great!

I entered through the broken gate.

[democracy id=”3″]

Series NavigationWandernell #5 – The Calm AfterWandernell #7 – Alone
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