I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading -till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -

And when they all were seated,

A Service, like a Drum -

Kept beating - beating - till I thought

My mind was going numb -

And then I heard them lift a Box

And creak across my Soul

With those same Boots of Lead, again,

Then Space - began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,

And Being, but an Ear,

And I, and Silence, some strange Race

Wrecked, solitary, here -

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down -

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing - then -

-"A Funeral in my Brain" by Emily Dickinson (1861)

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Author's Note:

"A Funeral in my Brain" is one of my favorite poems from Emily Dickinson, who so happens to be one of my most favorite poets. Don't ask me why she is, she just is.

The poem explores themes of madness, despair, and the irrational universe.

Does this fic have the same themes? Who knows.

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Sense started creeping in a few months after she turned four, which, coincidentally, was when they (that is, she and her twin brother) were given their own twin ralts to raise.

She didn't know the full story, but this is what little she did know:

She was born to rich, doting parents. One half of a twin. Her twin's name was Amadeus and hers: Amaris. Their parents, when unsure of which was which, simply called them "Ama" -- but this was only when they were infants. "The little Amas" quickly distinguished themselves from each other, and quite starkly, at that: Amadeus, the older, twin brother, was a lively baby. Normal.

Amaris... was not.

While Amadeus cried and fussed and made noises, Amaris remained mute and seemed to stare into space at nothing. She was an eerie baby, her mother would recall. Lifeless, almost. Born without a soul.

At one and a half, while Amadeus would crawl and even take his first steps, babbling happily all the while, Amaris did not. She would barely move, and were it not for their parents' great concern for her, she would not have eaten, either.

Experts were called in. While baffled, the doctors concluded that she had a severe (and not yet seen) form of autism: she was trapped inside her head, and could not express herself at all. With grim professionalism, the doctors told the distraught parents: she would remain unresponsive her whole life. Prepare for the worst.

Her parents grieved. Amadeus, just shy of turning two, understood nothing. At nighttime, it was customary for him to fall asleep listening to his twin sister's heartbeat. A habit he had not been able to let go of since his forming in his mother's womb. Ever since he was created, there had always been a steady rhythm right next to him, and this proof of life comforted him. Helped him sleep.

Their parents, although heartbroken, were nevertheless encouraged by Amadeus' normalcy. He was a happy child, and lively. Although he treated his sister like a fragile doll, (playing carefully with her, babbling nonsense at her, sleeping soundly next to her), he at least understood that she was precious, and acted accordingly. Amadeus was a good child.

The twins grew. While Amaris remained lifeless and soulless, Amadeus went to school. He came home to his parents and twin, babbling about school and all the friends he was making.

Amaris barely twitched.

Then, when the twins turned four, their rich, doting parents decided it was time to give them their first lifetime partners: Pokemon. The Gwen family had a long line of history with Pokemon. Zachariah Gwen himself, the twins' father and current head of Gwen Group Realties, had three pokemon and a Ninetales, which had served the family for generations.

His other three Pokemon included Minxy, a vulpix that was one of Ninetales' many (many) offspring, Rocky, a machamp he had obtained as a young trainer, and Terra, an infernape that he had gotten as a child from his father. The Gwen family typically gave their children fire-type Pokemon once they were 7 years old, but the twins, with Amaris' unusual (to say the least of it) lifestyle, now needed constant supervision-- supervision that Zachariah and Felicity (the twins' mother) could not give. Especially not 24/7, as was Amaris' case.

The Ninetales, whose name even Zachariah did not know (she had refused to bestow it even to Zachariah's great-grandfather, as far as he knew), had suggested that a psychic type be given to the twins.

"That's an excellent idea," said Felicity, "A Mr. Mime would be a great caretaker for our Amaris."

But this idea was soon scrapped when Zachariah and Felicity had shown Amadeus a picture of a Mr. Mime. The child had nightmares for nearly a week, and that idea was soon shelved.

"Perhaps another psychic type? One that won't frighten Amadeus," mused Zachariah.

And so it took them a few more months after the twins turned four, when a stroke of luck (or fate) showed a listing in the Pokenet Interchange for a pair of ralts that would not be parted from each other.

It was Nintales who had thoughtfully showed Zacharias the listing.

That should have been his first inkling that things would be strange from there on. That the normally aloof, recalcitrant, and detached ancient Pokemon would even deign to delve into their mortal affairs was odd enough. Zachariah had merely coughed it up to her omniscient wisdom and contacted the Pokemon trader for the pair of ralts.

The pokeballs had arrived in one ornate box, custom-made to house two pokeballs instead of the usual one. Nintales deigned to move from her usual throne and sniff at it, before turning her regal head away and ambling back to her side of the office. Zachariah had noted, then, that the usually motionless Pokemon had been very active as of late before he read the note that had come with the box.

"Release them together, and assure them that they are not going to be separated. Please." was all it said.

Zachariah thought that this was not such a strange request, and had brought the pokeballs back with him to his home. Once there, he had called his wife and pokemon out in the manicured backyard to release the ralts together, as the note had requested.

"Why's the other one blue?" asked his wife when the ralts had appeared.

The blue one flinched, and the green one (the normal-colored one) seemed to glare at Felicity for asking such a thing.

"It's rare, but discolorations such as this happen," mused Zachariah as he observed the pair of ralts (one cowering, one adamant). He knelt. At the corner of his eye, and in the recesses of his soul, he felt Terra, his very first pokemon, tense at his prone form.

While smaller than even his kneeling position, a pair of psychic types was a pair of psychic types. A blade is a blade is a blade. And Terra, part fighting type, could not help but remember their power.

Beside him, Minxy merely licked one of her paws, at ease with the situation.

Zachariah explained to the pair that, although they were not to be separated, he had bought them, and the reason why he did.

"I have children, a pair of twins, just like you," he started.

The green one (the normal-colored one) crossed its arms. The blue one stopped shaking to peer curiously from behind its twin's shoulder.

"A boy and girl," Zachariah continued, "Amadeus, the boy, is a handful. As all four-year-old children do, he gets into all sorts of trouble," there was a small smile on his face as Zachariah pictured, in his mind's eye, his little boy.

Then, grief: "Amaris is four, too. But she's..."

The green ralts slowly let its arms down. As emanation pokemon, they were no doubt feeling what Zachariah was feeling, perhaps dulled, perhaps not.

Both ralts flinched at the intense emotion. Zachariah tried to reel himself in.

"Amaris doesn't get into trouble, but, well," a sigh, "You'll see."

After a few more weeks of careful observation, the twin ralts were finally deemed safe to interact with Amadeus and Amaris.

The two pairs of twins were carefully introduced. Amadeus, used to the presence of pokemon, had seemed disinterested in the rare psychic types. At his age, only dragon-type pokemon would take his full attention. Amaris, as usual, reacted not at all.

The ralts had been hesitant to interact with Amadeus, his rambunctiousness and quick dismissal of them had seemed to insult the pair of ralts, but they soon drifted to the quiet Amaris, and was observing her as Amadeus complained that he had wanted a Dratini.

Then the smaller ralts, the one with blue hair, hesitantly reached out and touched Amaris' unresponsive hand. It lifted its hair to peer at Amaris' eyes.

Her mother and father had told her this story countless of times, but Amaris could glean nothing of it. One moment, it had seemed that Amaris was her usual, doll-like self. The next, she gasped and cried her lungs out.

"It was like your soul had finally entered your body," her mother would recall with tears in her eyes.

And so Amaris Gwen was born: her breath and body had preceded her, but her mind and soul had caught up at last.

As for the aforementioned mind and soul, all it could think, as it stared, wide-eyed at everything, was: 'What in the world is going on?'