When Shira first started seeing holes in people, she told her mother. Her mother sat her down on her Little Mermaid bed and gave her a big warm hug. She told Shira not to worry. She said everyone had holes, even herself, especially herself, and if blobs of memories oozed out of these holes, that was all okay.
Shira peeked up at her mother. Her mother had a hole on her right chest, a hole so deep and large, it spanned from her collarbone to her armpit.
Shira asked if others could see these holes. Her mother shook her head.
“Why not?” Shira asked.
“Because we’re all different, sweetie. We look different, we feel different, we see different things. Some people can see land across the ocean.”
Her mother sprang off the bed to demonstrate, pointing at a grand vague distance, like a pirate onboard. Then she rolled into a hedgehog ball and whispered, “Others can see creatures that build tiny cities underfoot.”
Shira laughed and crouched with her.
“You can see what we hold precious, what makes us cry. What you make of it is up to you. You can use it to hurt. You can use it help.”
"Different people see different things," her mother continued as she stroked Shira's long, dark hair. "We all have gifts." She paused. "But There is one person who must never know. One you must never tell, because he will make something terrible of your gift. Once, he was a good man; he understood. But something has spoiled him, and now he turns such magic into horrors you cannot imagine."
Shira's eyes were wide with concern. "Who, Mother? Who is he? Who should I not tell?"
Shira's mother lowered her voice to a whisper. "M. Night Shyamalan."
Opening: Sand Dune.....Continuation: anon.