Years of practice has my eyes quickly opening at the first light of dawn. I rub at my face with my hand, but hit my mask instead of my cheek. I quickly retract my hand and sit up in my bed. I was laying in a pile of torn blankets, resting on top of a wooden pallet. It's not super fancy, but I don't need anything better.

     I stand up and move towards the window, moving the sheet covering the open. Purples, oranges and pinks beautifully decorate the dawn sky. It's a shame that nobody but me is around to see it. I'm sure they'd love it. I watch for a little while longer before leaving the window and picking up a bucket from beside my bed. I carry it to the door on my small, cozy room. Heat comes up from the fires downstairs. Perfect in summer, a little cold in winter. But I'm sure that there are people who have it worse. I'm lucky to have what I do.

     I carry the bucket down the winding flight of stairs, leaving the bell tower where I sleep. I exit into a tiny supply room full of boxes. There was a food drive a few days ago, and I'll sort all of the donations later. I'm glad that we have food to give out, but it always seems like there are more people who come too late to get any. Hopefully it'll last longer this time.

     I peek my head out the room to see it empty, only the fire at the front is still burning. Looks like I put enough wood in last night. I'll have to remember that. I hurry through the quiet and dark pews while clutching the bucket close to my chest. It's a little creepy before I light the candles. I get to the big doors and quickly shove one aside to get out. I shiver at the sudden temperature change and rub my long sleeve on the bare skin of my other. My breath leaves faint clouds of fog in the air as I breath out.

     I hurry over to a brick well that's a few yards away from the side of the church. I hook my bucket onto the rope hanging from the top, before grabbing onto the hand crank. I turn it slowly to lower the bucket. It takes a few moments before I hear it hit the water. I lower it a little more before starting to crank it up again with the added wait. My arms are straining a bit by the time I get it up. I grab the bucket's handles and tug it off the hook before setting down the bucket. I look down to see the water rippling before smoothing over with my own reflection. I see the mask covering my face, only one blue eye showing. My dark brown hair sticks up around it. I have a thin frame, and I'm not very tall. I have one sleeve covering my entire arm except my hand. The other sleeve is ripped off on the shoulder. Blue bands of cloth are tied around both of my wrists. My shirt and pants are covered in bright paint. My feet are left bare.

     I've never see my own face. The head of the church says that I'm being punished for something my parents did. That I'm a monster. I have to try to be good so that way I can be free. He says that anyone else would have killed me 11 years ago when I was found on the door step of the church. That's when he saw my name on a slip of paper, Mu (pronounced Mew). But now, I have the chance to be better then my parents. I'm thankful for every day that I have. If I've learned anything, it's that everything happens for a reason. And I'm gonna do my best to do whatever I'm meant to do.

     I drag myself away from thoughts and heft the bucket off the ground. I hurry back into the church. I set the bucket down on the floor and quickly retrieve a cloth rag from the supply room. I back over to my bucket and carry it over to one of the six stained-glass windows. They each are made up of hundreds of pieces, sunlight making them slowly glow. I dip the cloth rag into the bucket and use the water to clean the windows. I have to stand on the window sill to reach the top, standing on my tip toes. I clean each window like this until they gleam in the sunlight.

This is when part of my curse happens. The head of the church says that it's part of my punishment. That there are evil spirits are following me around. I can see them. A murky shadow-figure stands on the other side of the room. It doesn't have any features, but I know that it's watching me. Sometimes there's lots of them, sometimes a few, but always one. Even though they all look the same, I can tell them apart. It's always near me from the time I wake up, to when I go to bed. I'm not meant to acknowledge it. I did try talking to it once. I think it understands, but can't reply. I stopped after I was told it was bad. But I can't help noticing it. Sometimes I wish it would go away, but I'm still glad for someone's company.

I put away the cleaning supplies and light the candles on the walls using flame from the dying fire. I throw more logs on from outside. This makes the flames rise up and warm the open space. I look outside before jumping back and quickly running back up the stairs. I can't be late again! I need to hurry! The stairs almost trip me on the way up. I walk past my bed and grab onto a rope hanging down from the ceiling. The rope might of hurt anyone else who wasn't used to the rubbing it made on your hands, but mine weren't hurt from years of practice. I rung the bell, sounding beginning of a new day.