She is a sweet young lady. With her braided brown hair, crooked nose that seems too large for her small head, one protruding ear, and goldilocks lips, she can easily capture anyone's heart.

The lass goes by the name of Jamie, the person in charge of the kitchen for half a year. She is proficient at making sweets and bacon dishes, the children always looking forward to Jamie’s turn to cook. Her agenda is every Thursday and Friday, with the exception of public holidays when those who works in the kitchen returns to their hometown.

They will depart at daybreak before the sun rises and the roosters crow, and will come back home before sunset and a flock of crows fly around the yard. They will ride public transportation together, even though their destinations are different. Each time they return, the children will wear white linen dresses – lining up in front of the main gate, arms crossed in front of the chest as some sort of a welcoming party.

It will be business as usual on this Thursday, Jamie will spend all day locked in the kitchen, bends over backwards with the dough and herbs that she has memorized by heart. In Jamie’s head, she has devised a plan to surprise the children with a silicone baking mat of Neapolitan pizza they has been craving for several months prior and perchance smoothies for other caretakers. The caretakers must be tuckered out with all the preparations leading up to the annual harvest festival and some tykes who start attending primary school at the end of this year.

At first, Jamie had intended to cook spaghetti or pasta, because she calls back the youngest will have her birthday a week from now, and Italian cuisine being her most preferred dish; it is unfortunate the plan must be deferred due to the fact the youngest fell sick by leaps and bounds and unable getting out of bed. Their physician said the youngest had dengue fever, and although she had been given medication and forcibly being put on a bed rest for the past weeks, her health condition has not yet ameliorated.

Their physician suggested that no other children visit the youngest in the sick room, which is located in the back near the warehouse. However, naturally, the prohibition is not heeded by the children. The older ones will put wild flowers like lilies and pink wines that they picked in the woods in front of the door, while from time to time, the younger children will surreptitiously go in to check their sister’s condition. In the beginning the caretakers will reprimand the children, saying the youngest will recover shortly and will be back to be around them in no time, yet over time this results in the caretakers’ jittery behaviour and in the end they leaves them be.

“Do you need help?”

Jamie discovers a tiny head peering through a wooden door. She is certain she had locked the door earlier, however perhaps the lass was having enough on her plate with new recipes she initially wanted to sample, it escaped her attention.

“No, I'm fine. Thank you for your kind offer. Isn't now your nap time?” Jamie inquires, left hand pushing the rows of kitchen knives on the sideboard to get behind big mason jars. The children recognize her work involves sharp equipment, yet Jamie still does not feel comfortable letting the children see her being near sharp objects.

The little girl shakes her head with an adorable frown on her mien. Jamie restrains herself with all her might not to kneel and scoop her up, then peppering her with wet, sloppy kisses. Surely, that would be a revolting scene. Jamie remembers at one fateful event where a Labrador that belongs to one of the caretakers kept her at arm’s length and did not want to be anywhere near her ever since Jamie laid a kiss on its’ ear.

“Hate napping. It takes away my playing time.”

Jamie is used to hearing the children's dislike of naps and vegetables. They prefer to ply to the wood, pretending they are explorers in a quest to find a new continent and play tag on rainy days, splashing each other with mud.

“Don't you reckon it takes your time away because it wants to spend time with you? Hmm?”

Ostensibly, the tactic produces a positive reaction – becoming a turning point, on the grounds that the little girl is presently stunned in her position, with her head downwards and a thoughtful murmur can be heard from her way. Truth be told, Jamie suffers in mind to give five to ten more minutes for the tyke to dive deeper into her thoughts. Ever and anon, Jamie has this desire to be able to infiltrate the children’s heads, to become cognizant of the reasons behind many things that cannot be explained by mere rigid logic. 

However the tyke already speaks when she is not at all ready. 

“Understood. I'll meet him now and say I'm ready to go on a journey with him!”

Jamie does not question further regarding who is "him" the tyke meant. Nodding solemnly, Jamie straightens her back and changes her apron into a floral one. It may be because of unadulterated suggestion only, yet Jamie’s productivity is consistently at its peak when she is wearing brightly coloured clothes. Ultimately, that is not really significant because the sole thing the children care about is the quality of the cooking.

The next day, when Jamie wakes up in a joyful mood, several children present in the dining room with a dishevelled face and a sour temper.

Today is Creation Day. Children are encouraged to be more creative and sociable than they are on normal days. They are allowed to play to their hearts’ content as long as at the end of the day they submit their works, then reiterating what they were doing all day in front of the class.

The caretakers will choose the top ten best works to be displayed in the living room, whilst other works will be strung up along the narrow hallway to the living room. 

Jamie approaches one of the children, trying to gain his sympathy so she can ascertain out what is causing their gloom, but to no avail. Jamie tries once more ; it gives the same result. Thence being a sedulous person she is, Jamie lurches to the one place the caretakers are often seen engaged in what appears like an enjoyable, lively discussion and questions them individually.

She is good friends with the whole caretakers, yet there is one particular girl who repeatedly becomes a place for Jamie to vent out her frustrations and to unload her lassitude at work, even though she likes this job and is keen on doing it however long it takes. This girl has this inverted triangle or “apple” body shape, her hair is wavy—reminding Jamie of a loose thread sticking out in one of the children's coats, her smile is always raised lazily like that costs an arm and a leg.

Perhaps it is one of her bewitching charms.

The girl’s name is Marrie, but Jamie prefers to call her “Mami”. Marrie does not seem to mind the nickname, although perchance she merely does not have it in her to care, unless it is regarding the paramount things that rotated around her.

Without further ado Marrie asks what is wrong, therefore Jamie briefly explains the children’s conditions. Marrie states she can't help much, but she has a hunch that they are not looking forward to this day – they would be rather spend hours in the classroom skimming through encyclopedias and experimenting with test tubes rather than creating artworks.

Now knowing the root of the problem, she does not forget to thank Marrie and hurries back to the dining room, with strategies to fix everything float inside her head.

Lamentably, the children don’t make it easy for her. First and foremost, they don’t confirm whether her statement is true or not. Second, they don't even respond to her properly. They are uncooperative beyond question, and worse, they begin to get cranky for no ostensible reason. 

“What can I do to help you?”

Jamie asks frustratingly in between the shouting of one of the children. She almost pulls her own hair out, if only she can't remember she is presently in front of children under the age of ten, which can add more to the problem if they are pressured by her fretfulness.

At a time like this, 

“..I really wish I could get inside their heads...”

Breathing deeply, Jamie feels an immeasurable headache attack her in unannounced, resulting in her nearly losing her balance then stumbling forward. The moment she regains her balance, the dizziness strikes stronger. Jamie is able to carry on by tightly gripping her wrist. Proceedings and minutes passed, static noises that grip at her scalp are alike to eagle's claws.

The noises stop.

She cracks her eyes open and sees her surroundings collapsed.

The ceiling is broken, as though something had destroyed it with all its might. She sees the sky and clouds. Lots of puffy clouds. The clouds are grey and half-moulded, with the size of a giant’s head. Amid the disarray, Jamie heads outside. The wind blows hard and strong. It sends the trees fly in an inconsistent direction. Jamie looks down to avoid them, floundering several times because of the aerial roots below her feet.

She cries out Marrie’s name. She yells for anyone whose name crossed her mind. At some point, she even calls the acquaintances she only encountered once or twice. Jamie screams out her mother. Her grandfather. It is no wonder her voice gradually become hoarse.

Then when it becomes too painful for her to even whisper, Jamie allows her body fall to the ground, not caring even the slightest bit about the prospect her clothes will get dirty. She does not bring a phone with her, she does not carry anything useful. Jamie’s voice is gone at the moment and the headache comes back like an uninvited guest, to boot. 

This is deplorable. 

This is the first time she doesn't have any clue on what to do. For the following ten minutes Jamie spends by moping in despair, but then, as though her whole body is electrocuted, she rises with untrodden determination. Trusting her instinct, she walks away from her starting point to a damaged corn plantation. There are no signs of human or animal existence. As she sniffs the air, the smell of fresh blood nearby alerts her more than anything.

One step.

It only requires one step before she free falls.

This time Jamie is not anticipating it coming, nor is she permitted herself to go down. She frantically reaches out, searching for anything to hold on to.

The final thing Jamie can feel is a hard pounding on her back before everything turns dark orange.

Jamie always wants to be able to enter the children’s palaces—the children’s heads—and roaming around, satisfying her endless curiosity.

That was the thing she desired, but why?