42 And The Big Lesson

You never know where or how inspiration and insight will come from, or by which means it will come. While watching the movie 42 yesterday, I learned a valuable lesson in strength and attitude. In one scene of this movie the baseball executive Branch Rickey warns Jackie Robinson that people are going to try all types of tactics to get him to fight, and when he does, “It’s not going to be a man defending himself that they’re going to see. All they’re going to see is a hot head, a [man] who lost his temper because he’s in over his head. They’re not going to see the racism. They’re going to see an [African American] man hitting a white man.” So Rickey challenged Robinson and asked him if he was the type of person “with the guts not to fight back.”

What a powerful message! I have no doubt in my mind that Robinson was tested in more ways than the movie illustrated, but in the movie he was tested on the very words of Rickey while on the field. It was his first game with the Dodgers, and there was a person from the opposing team shouting all manner of degrading slurs, purposely inciting him. The more Robinson ignored him, the worse the insults got. Robinson hit a pop fly and was out on his very first time at the plate, as a result of it, but he did not say a word to the man doing the shouting. The tension and anger kept building and building, and after he hit his second pop fly, he walked in the dugout, past the team, and down the hall. He just lost it. He slammed his bat into the wall, over and over again, breaking it. He released all the sadness, frustration, and hurt feelings in the loudest cathartic cry I ever heard anyone in any movie make. It made me cry. There he was feeling completely defeated, letting it all out of his system. Rickey was able to talk to him, to give him words of encouragement, and a hug. So when it was Robinson’s third time at the plate and the insults began again, Robinson just continued to stare at the man in the opposing team. He just stared at him, never dropped eye contact, and never made a single facial expression. In the face of a tempest of insults and degradation, Robinson remained poised and focused on the game. In that scene, he hit a home run.

The message to me, from that scene is no matter how much another person tries to be insulting and abusive, I will not say a word in response, but I will look them square in the eyes. I’m talking about those moments when my father is in one of his vitriolic rages, where every word out of his mouth can rot everything in his path. Growing up, my M.O. was to fight back, but that was disastrous. In these two months being at home, I’ve tried to use logic, mustering as much of an even temper as I could manage, but there has been no luck on that front either. There is no reasoning with someone who is consumed with rage. They’re too caught up in their own anger to hear any words but their own. So I’m going to apply the Robinson Stare-down Method and not say a word. My focus is obviously is not the game of baseball, it’s Aai. All thoughts, manners, actions are directed to Her. I can’t call myself a spiritual aspirant, if I cannot resolve this matter, and clearly some type of resolution is called for because this has been going on my entire life. All my spiritual practices and efforts are for nothing, if I can’t deal with this. Then I’m no different from any other loud mouth who spouts religion, but acts the opposite way. The Robinson Method will work because in the end, it’s my focus on Aai that will show, and that’s finally when I’ll be able to call myself a spiritual aspirant.

writing as a primal need

I always knew that I liked to write. I’ve done it for years and years, everyday, not just for school assignments, but for myself in journals, letters, and emails. As I grew older, the need for writing changed, it intensified, and somehow became a primal need akin to breathing and eating. While this transformation was happening, I didn’t really realize it. I’d pass a day or two without writing, and a glimmer of thought would flash through my mind. I’d say, “Oh I haven’t written in a while, I should do that” and promptly start writing, even if it was late at night. It didn’t register as an intense thought, but my mind was steering me to do what it needed for survival. 

The intensity struck me, during my transition time, after moving back to Milwaukee. I spent a period of time adjusting to living in a house with my parents, and becoming comfortable once again, of seeing a lot of people whenever I’d go to stores. I was caught up in the marvel of being in civilization again, that all my senses took it in. A lot of my time was devoted to my parents, who have quite a few limitations now that they’re in their elder years. By the end of the day, I wanted to write, but would often fall asleep in the middle of writing a few lines in my journal. Everyday for about a month, was spent just being busy taking it all in: seeing Milwaukee again, visiting family friends again, revisiting familiar haunts, helping my parents, and socializing with my parents (this was a new one). And everyday, at the end of the day, I was exhausted, without really registering consciously why I was so tired. Each one of these nights was spent in restlessness. I couldn’t sleep for very long, and what little sleep I was getting was not peaceful. I often dreamed I was writing or typing, and there were dreams in which I can remember all the words I wrote, well after I was awake. But my journal and pen were quickly becoming simple fixtures on my bed.

One morning, when I finally decided to get out of bed, I wrote down everything I could remember from the intense dream that I’d just had. When I finally stopped (my pen ran out of ink) I discovered that I’d written twenty pages in my journal, and I still had a burning sensation to keep writing. I refilled my pen and continued. When I finally stopped writing, I felt an amazing sense of relief, and even though I hadn’t slept well for quite a few weeks, I was refreshed and rejuvenated. That is when I realized writing is more than a hobby for me; it’s a primal need. My mind felt like a mess, while I didn’t write, and when I started again, I felt grounded, centered, and nourished.

precious time

I feel like I have a short amount of time left to be with my mom. I see the things that she used to do, and just seven years later she struggles to do. It brings mortality to forefront of my mind, and that word is a grave word for me. I cherish and savor every moment with them.

friendship

I was thinking about all the friends I’ve had my entire life. In my developmental years, there were kids I interacted with in classes, but after school I’d be on my own. In Girl Scouts I interacted with the other girls, but again, after meetings I was on my own. As a child I never imagined that it was any other way: everywhere I went there was someone to play and interact with, but they were only there for specified time. What would always fascinate me were the friendships that I saw all around me, in which kids would play both in and after school, and they would hang out together all the time. Who were those people, and how did they find such great friends? I was mesmerized.  The older I got the more I was in awe because it seemed the older I got the fewer friends I had, and the lonelier I felt. I was desperate for anyone to hang out with, and in that desperation I didn’t care if they were using me or not. I was willing to overlook all openly negative talk and the fact that they were using me, just so I could have someone to hang out with. Then, of course, as these were never true friendships, the relationship became unsatisfying and I’d find myself just as miserable with them as when I was alone. I’d end the friendship abruptly, and that always left the others feeling bitterly angry towards me. Some of them acted out their pettiness, others just left the stage, but one by one all the users faded into the mist. This M.O. took me well into my adult years, but each time I grew more and more weary of the people I encountered. I still let them use me because it seemed that was the only way to have people I could do stuff with, but each time I started asking different questions: where are the nice people who I can be friends with? I believe they exist, given the number humans on this planet, I reasoned there has to be a few people who are kind and with whom I can share a friendship. Simple law of averages or something, right? Those people are out there somewhere. In changing my question, I began to notice my unhealthy pattern in trying to secure a lasting friendship, and I also noticed that I was more willing to be alone than to be in an unhealthy friendship. I protected myself like a fortress, and only let in a couple of people if after a long time they seemed interested in pursuing a friendship. I started developing the ability the discern the users from the kind one. Something was changing in me. I felt happier, and the happier I felt, the more the negative people were staying away. And this is where I find myself today: still on my quest to gather kind souls to befriend, and still learning how to develop the ability of discernment.

social? media

I’m new to Facebook – only two months, give or take a day – and in that time I discovered something that I hadn’t anticipated. I realized that it’s a platform where everybody “talks” all at once, but nobody listens. People post the things that they like, thoughts that have crossed their minds, and share photos. In that way, they all have “something to say,” but when it comes to viewing these things, “listening” in that way, who has time for that? Everyone is too busy putting things on their own Facebook page. The effect is the opposite of what (I think) it was intended for. I think it was created so that people could connect with others, but it seems to be yet another device to keep people from interacting with one another.

faith

My faith in Mother Goddess has kept me strong over the years. When I was at my worst, I never knew that She was with me keeping me safe because I was far too disconnected from myself to ever recognize it. It’s only now, looking back at those dark moments in my life, that realize She kept me from “pulling the plug” on my own life, for there were countless days when I felt hopeless yet I never thought about taking my own life. Somewhere in the deeply hidden part of myself was a unfaltering belief in Her.

Now, when I think about those times in my life, I’m thankful for this undying faith because that is what has pulled me out of those difficult years and that is what helps me at every turn in my life. I feel that connection to Her in each day, and it makes me smile because I know that Mother Goddess will see me through ever obstacle in my life.

To the Light

Dear World,

My name is Louise. I’m 11 years old. And I have to write in this stupid notebook that Mrs. Davenport gave me. She’s the new teacher at my school this year, and just my luck, I got stuck with her. I wanted be in Mr. Jensen’s class. He is the coolest teacher in this school. He lets his class pick some of their assignments, and he lets them skip a homework assignment if they want to. Each student gets one free pass a month. They can color them however they want. That is so cool! My friend Trina is in that class, and so is Vicki, Andrea, Jenny, and Brenda. I’m the only one that got stuck in this jail. I knew I was doomed when she walked into class with this large box, and started passing out notebooks to everyone. I got stuck with this pee yellow one, and nobody wanted to trade with me. When I took it home the first thing I did was dump my entire jar of black paint and smeared the entire cover with it. Now you can only see a little bit of yellow flecks where the paint chips off.

Anyway, she gave us these stupid notebooks, and told us that sometimes she’ll give us things to write about. Other times, we can write whatever we want and we won’t get in trouble for saying what’s on our minds. Writing is our way of communicating with the world. She says. I can’t roll my eyes on paper, so you’ll just have to picture me doing that. She won’t make it to the end of the year. The PTA moves like a panther in this school, that’s what my parents say, and that’s why they don’t want to have anything to do with those people, so all it will take is for one of the PTA members to know what she’s doing, and they’ll kick her out of the school. Maybe then I’ll get to be in Mr. Jensen’s class. Anyway, we have to write in these stupid notebooks for the entire year. The only thing Mrs. Davenport is going to check is to make sure that at the end of the week we have at least five entries. She said she’ll collect them every Friday, and give them back to us every Monday. I wonder if Milwaukee Psych is missing a patient.

***************

Two weeks ago Eddie Charles wrote a swear word in one of his entries. He actually wrote out the “F”-word He showed me. He said that’s what his dad yelled when Mr. Charles accidentally hammered a nail into his thumb when they were building shelves for their kitchen. I told Eddie to erase it anyway because what grown-up is going to let a kid get away with that? But he didn’t. I think he was testing Mrs. Davenport. I kept watching him and watching her, but she never said anything to him. At recess I asked him if she said anything to him, and he said no. Maybe she’s waiting until parent-teacher conferences to get him. I don’t believe that she’s not going to say anything. A grown-up that can keep our secrets? Gimme a break! I may be 11, but I’m not stupid. Anyway, that was the same recess when Trina and the rest of the girls were making fun of me because I got stuck in the Davenport Class, like it was my fault. That’s just how they said it too – Davenport Class. It’s like how we used to say “Robby Jacobs has cooties!” when we were in first grade. This is not my fault! And they were bragging about their free passes, that they just finished drawing on. They even used gold paint! Then they stopped sitting with me at lunch, and Trina should know better because I still haven’t told anyone about the time she laughed so hard she peed a little. Life is unfair. Grown-ups always say things like that. This is why.

***************

Even though I’ll never tell any grown-up, I do like that we have to write our entries in pen. Davenport says it’s because next year we’ll be in middle school, where we’ll be expected to write in pen all the time, and behave like young ladies and gentlemen. Weird. I’m smart enough to know that writing with a pen isn’t going to make me any more of a grown-up than I am now, but I do feel older just a little bit, especially when I see the fourth graders still writing with pencils.

***************

Davenport told us to write about our earliest memory. Why does she pick these boring things to write about? What’s wrong with her? My earliest memory was when Mom got rid of my sandbox. That was before all the doctors appointments. It’s a little fuzzy in my head now. The doctors appointments came after the sandbox incident. At the time I thought her getting rid of my sandbox was my punishment, but she never spanked me or yelled at me or anything. Really, getting rid of the sandbox was worse than any spanking. What did I know? I was only three years old. If I would have known about all those doctors appointments, I think I would have taken the spanking.

I think how it started was that Mom said I had to go with her to see Mrs. Rasmussen, who lived down the street from us. I was building a sandcastle in my sandbox, and I was really getting into it. Mom said that we had to take dinner to her, and I said, “She won’t eat anymore. She can’t.” Mom’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Why is that, sweetie?” So I told her. Now that I think about it, if I would have kept my mouth shut, I would probably still have that sandbox. Instead, I told Mom, “Because her body’s gone. But her spirit is right here.” I pointed to a spot in the sandbox where there was a depression. Mrs. Rasmussen was helping me build my sandcastle. She stayed with me for a full year, she always played with me whenever I was outside, and sometimes she came to pre-school with me. She would tell me stories about what it was like when she was a little girl. She said that she never had a granddaughter, and that she liked to play with me. It was fun. That was all I knew.

Mom, though, dropped the grocery bag that had Mrs. Rasmussen’s dinner. She pulled me out of the sandbox, and dragged me into the house. She slammed the back door shut and locked it. She looked scared and angry, and I started crying. Then she got on the phone and called Mrs. Rasmussen, but nobody answered. Then she called her son, Joseph, who lived in Minnesota. They talked for a couple of minutes. Then some time later the police came, and talked to Mom. I had to play in my room, and I was glad to. I looked out my window, to my sandbox, and Mrs. Rasmussen was still there. She looked up and smiled at me and waved. I waved back at her, but I didn’t feel like smiling. Then one day when I came home from pre-school, I saw that the sandbox was gone. Mom got rid of it, and she wouldn’t tell me why. Mrs. Rasmussen told me not to worry about it because we would find other things to play with in the yard, and we did. She knew a lot of games.

She went away on my fourth birthday. She watched me make a wish and blow out my candles. Then she waved goodbye and disappeared. I started crying, and Mom and Dad sent all the guests home early because I wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t tell them why I was so sad. At the time I thought they’d take my presents away. I stayed on my bed and held my Pooh Bear until I fell asleep. That was my earliest memory. What is the point of writing about something that happened to me when I was practically a baby, when all the time Davenport wants us to behave like little ladies and gentlemen? Write about being a little kid, but act like a grown-up while you do it. I told you she was weird.

***************

Eddie Charles got it today. I knew it. Davenport pulled him outside of class, and talked to him in the hall. The rest of us were supposed to be doing independent reading, but we all had our attention to the door. I just know it’s because of the F-word. Vince Reeves (Eddie’s best friend), who sits in front of me, turned and saw that I was looking at the door too. He looked at me and said, “This is about the F-word, isn’t it?” I nodded. “I warned him. I told him to erase it.” “So did I,” Vince said. Davenport and Eddie were outside of the classroom for a few minutes. When the door opened, all of us turned our heads to our books. I bet not a single person in the classroom knew what they were reading at that particular time.

When they came back inside, Eddie took his seat, like nothing had happened, and Davenport talked to us about quotation marks. She said that when we’re writing in our journals and we want to say something that another person said, we use quotation marks. She said that whatever is inside the quotation marks has to be exactly what the other person said, and not just what we think they said or not what they said put in our own words. If it’s going inside the quotation marks, it has to be the other person’s exact words. “So for this week’s journal entries I want you to practice using quotation marks. Whenever you write about what a person said, I want you to use quotation marks. It will make your journal entries read like a story. It will give your writing more depth.”

Michelle Stewart asked her the same question that I was thinking of: “What if we can’t remember their exact words because it happened a year ago or something?” Davenport smiled. “Then you have a choice. If you’re not sure, you don’t have to use quotation marks, but if you feel pretty confident that another person said those words, then you can use quotation marks because it’s the way you remember it.” Then to the class she said, “Remember you’re writing about your views and your opinions and the way you see the world. At the end of the year you’ll have a collection of thoughts, opinions, and memories that is entirely unique.” More weirdness.

At recess Vince and I and a group of kids from the class asked Eddie what Davenport said to him in the hall. He just shrugged his shoulders. “She just asked me if she could use some of my journal entries in her teacher’s class. And she said that she won’t use my name or anything, so it will be anonymous.” Vince and I were really surprised. Most of the kids left when they realized he didn’t get into trouble or anything. Vince said, “I guess we really can write anything we want in those notebooks.” Eddie and Vince took off running towards the kickball game, and they both stopped when they saw I wasn’t with them. “Aren’t you coming?” Eddie said. “No. Maybe after lunch.” I said. I was thinking about everything that had just happened.

I sat on the hill that everybody ignores when it’s nice out. This hill only gets used when it’s covered in snow. It’s a good hill for sliding down on a Trapper Keeper, which is what we all do in the winter time, because it’s a steep hill and you can really fly! Mom and Dad have gotten used to buying me two Trapper Keepers every school year because they say, “they aren’t made to last, I guess.” They don’t know that the reason mine aren’t made to last is because I use mine as a sled. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t need to know.

***************

Writing about Mrs. Rasmussen’s visit made me think of some of the others who came after her. For a while, they came a lot, and they didn’t always stay for very long. Sometimes they did. They also weren’t mindful of the time they came – sometimes in the middle of the night, other times when I was in Girl Scouts or ballet class. They just came to visit whenever they wanted. For a few years afterwards, my parents started dragging me to see one doctor after another because even though they didn’t say it to my face, they thought I was strange…disturbed. That was one word one of the doctors used when he talked to them about me. I don’t like that word because of the way he used it on me, even though at the time I was too little to understand what the word meant, I knew he what he was saying. It made me angry. It made me angrier when my parents believed him. After that word, as much as possible, I watched myself around every adult. I kept to myself quite a lot because it was the only time I could be myself, and it was the only time I could talk to them without fear of getting in trouble. And maybe eventually my parents would think I was normal, and stop dragging me to see doctors. I never mentioned the visitors, after Mrs. Rasmussen, but there were a lot of them.

One visitor came during a Science test. I was in second grade, and my teacher was Mr. Eckhart. You’ve had that one teacher who you were scared of when you were little because they were mean, but not mean enough to get any other adult’s attention? And that’s what made them seem even meaner. It almost felt like they weren’t really human. You know the kind of teacher I’m talking about. Well, that was Mr. Eckhart for me. Trina said, “He’s probably an alien trying to decide which kids to take on the mothership and that’s why his test are so hard.” So she always made sure to get “B”s and “C”s because her theory was that aliens would only pick the smart kids. She might have been right. She might have been wrong. I didn’t want to find out then. I was always scared just being in that class, and on days when we had quizzes and test, I felt about ten times worse.

The only nice part of being in Eckhart’s class was that he had everyone sit in alphabetical order, so that put me at the very back of the class, dead last. It’s the one and only time that I appreciated being at the end of the alphabet. As long as I behaved, he left me alone. I sat in the last row in the right corner of the classroom, and there were two empty desks to my left.

This test that he gave us was harder than all the others, and I was stuck on the fourth question: “What gives green leaves their color?” And I had to write the word on the blank line next to the question, choosing the words from the word box at the top of the page. I couldn’t remember any of the words and my hands were sweating, which made it hard to hold the pencil. I wanted to crumple the test and throw it away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a boy sitting in the desk next to me, looking right at me. He looked old enough to be in middle school. He put his index finger to his lips. I looked to see where Eckhart was. He was in the front part of the class, looking over Robby Jacobs’s shoulder. Poor Robby. He was sort of hunched over. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was nervous with Eckhart breathing down his back. Eckhart wasn’t facing me, and I was glad. The kid next to me said, “Number four is chlorophyll.”

I shook my head at him, and as quietly as I could whispered, “That’s cheating.” There was no way anyone could have heard me, but Eckhart with his alien-hearing turned right around.

“Miss Zimmerman, what’s the problem?”

My heart was beating so fast I would swear the whole class could hear it. I couldn’t really look him in the eyes, but I managed to say, “Nothing.”

“Then stop talking and finish the test.”

I did write down the answer that the kid gave me, but I finished the rest of the test on my own, so I don’t really count it as cheating. I mean, it was only one question. The grade that I got was still based on what I knew. I got a “B,” so that one question didn’t really make a difference.

After Science class, I went to the coat room to get my jacket and backpack, and the kid followed me. I made sure to take my time so that most of the class was already out of the classroom, when I was just starting to pack up my books and folders.

“Why didn’t you want me to help you on the test? You could have gotten 100% instead of the score you’re going to get, which isn’t going to be too good. You got a lot of questions wrong.”

I had just taken the test, and even though I was nervous in class, I really didn’t think I did that bad, but I just shook my head at him. “What’s your name, anyway? My name is Louise.”

“I’m Brian.” Then he looked at me funny. “You don’t recognize me?”

I looked at him. He did look familiar, but I couldn’t tell why I thought I’d seen him before. I knew he didn’t go to my school, or I would have known him then.

“Yeah, you do look -”

“Miss Zimmerman? Who are you talking to?” Eckhart’s voice made me jump.

“Um, nobody.”

“Well hurry along. You don’t want to miss your bus.” Eckhart looked at me the same way Mom did – the sandbox look – just before she took it away. I didn’t like it. I left for the bus stop as fast as I could. Brian followed me all the way home. He was trying to talk to me, but I just ignored him. “Why won’t you talk to me? I was only trying to help.” He stood on the porch, and that was the last thing I heard him say before I closed and locked my front door. I got the feeling that, just like Mrs. Rasmussen, he couldn’t come inside. I don’t know why I thought that. Like I said, it was just a feeling, and there was no way I was going to ask my parents about it. He didn’t come inside the house. I don’t know if he tried or not.

Brian was outside when I was doing chores the next day. I wasn’t surprised. “Are you still mad at me?” He knelt beside me while I picked weeds out of the garden. It’s the best chore and the worst chore at the same time. It’s the best because I can be off in my own world while doing it, but it’s the worst because even after I’m done – or think I am – there are always more that seem to sprout out of the ground instantly. It’s like they’re growing faster than I can pick them.

“I wasn’t mad at you. I just don’t want to get into trouble.” Even though Mom and Dad were in and out of the house, I still kept my voice down. They were busy running errands for the Senior Center. They volunteer there whenever they get a chance, which is usually just about every weekend. They do stuff together all the time, just like best friends do, and I guess I just get in their way. Sometimes I like it when they leave me alone. Sometimes I don’t. It just depends. This time I didn’t mind. “I get in trouble for stuff like this.” I glanced at Brian, but kept pulling weeds.

“For talking to people.” He didn’t believe me.

“No. For talking to people like you.”

“Boys.” He was teasing me.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why can’t you say it?” He sounded hurt.

“For talking to ghosts. My parents don’t want me talking to ghosts. They already think I’m…”

Brian just looked at me.

I kept pulling weeds faster and faster. I accidentally pulled out one of Mom’s good plants. I shoved it back in the ground, hoping I didn’t kill its chance to grow.

“So you are mad at me.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. I’m just sick of them taking me to different doctors, like there’s something wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Brian nodded like he understood, but he didn’t say anything.

After a while I said, “I remember who you are now. You’re the boy who was found washed up on Ford Beach. You know Lake Michigan is too cold to swim this time of year. Some college kids playing volleyball saw you. They called the cops.”

He looked like he was trying hard not to cry.

“I’m sorry.”

He wiped his eyes with his sleeves. “Dad and I got into a fight because he wouldn’t let me ride Eric’s motorbike. It was just going to be one ride. It’s not like I was asking him to buy me one.” Brian sounded like he was trying to convince me to let him ride.

“They’re dangerous,” I said.

“That’s what my dad said.”

“My dad said BMX recalled them because all these parents started suing the company when their kids were getting hurt.”

“I wasn’t going to do any tricks with it. I just wanted to ride it around the block.” Brian was sulking. “He wouldn’t even let me do that. We got into a fight, and I started walking down to the Beach. I was skipping rocks. My record is 7.”

Mine never make it past four before sinking, but I didn’t tell him that.

“I didn’t even see the guys who grabbed me” Brian said it with his eyes closed. “Not at first.”

“You know who did this to you?”

He nodded. He still had his eyes closed. “One guy held me under the water and another guy pulled off all my clothes.” He started shaking. “Everything was kinda scrambled for a little while. The first thing I remember, after -” he swallowed, and didn’t say anything for a while. “They were laughing. After it was done they were laughing and goofing off, like it was a regular day at the beach. I shouted swear words at them and they didn’t turn around. I tried to throw rocks at them, but I couldn’t even pick them up. I was so mad I wanted to kill them!”

When Brian said that, there was a huge gust of wind that whipped through the backyard. It was so cold it felt like winter. He opened his eyes and he must have noticed how scared I was. The sun was back out and the air was still again.

“And there was nothing I could do about it. They just kept right on walking, up to the van that was parked by the road. I tried to tell the police about it, but they can’t hear me or see me. But you can.”

Even at eight, I knew what he was saying to me. I knew that I had to help him because nobody else could. I also knew what would happen to me if my parents found out. He must have known what I was thinking because he said, “I know of a way you can do it without getting caught.” He told me what to write, and showed me how to wipe my fingerprints off of everything so nobody would find out it was me. And he even went with me when I rode my bike to the police station. He sat on the seat while I pedaled. I asked him why he couldn’t just fly along side me while I rode my bike, but he thought I was making fun of him and got mad at me. I didn’t deliver it to the police station, I dropped it in the mailbox right in front. Then I rode my bike back home. Mom and Dad were really mad because I was late coming home for dinner, and they said that since I didn’t seem to be hungry, I could just spend the night in my room. I didn’t put up a fight; I just went upstairs. I wasn’t about to tell them where I’d been or what I’d been doing.

From outside my bedroom window I could see Brian in the backyard by the flower bed. He mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” and I nodded.

I can’t remember how many days passed after that, but one night I felt a tug at the foot of my bed. I was startled awake. He apologized for scaring me. I wondered how he was able to come inside my house, when all this time he never did, but I didn’t get a chance to ask him. He said, “Louise, it worked. They got the guys who did this to me. I have to go now. Thanks.” Then he disappeared. I felt just as sad as when Mrs. Rasmussen left. With most of the others, they came and went so fast I didn’t have a chance to miss them, but with Mrs. Rasmussen and then with Brian I felt very sad when they left.

***************

The bell rang, and I startled. For a moment I was didn’t know where I was. I looked around, and saw that I was in Mrs. Davenport’s class. We were finishing our last journal entry for the week. All the kids were gone. She asked me if everything was ok. I nodded. “Well, if you’re sure everything is ok, then may I collect your journal?” I brought it up to her. She smiled and said thank you, and told me to have a nice weekend. I mechanically told her to do the same, but I hurried out of there as fast as I could.

***************

When she handed back our journals on Monday, she said that she put stickers on the entries that she thought were our best ones, based on the grammar skills we’d been learning, and our ability to truly “express ourselves on paper,” (she always said strange things like that). Everyone paged through theirs, and I saw that we all got different stickers. Vince got manta rays because he’s really into them. You can ask him anything about manta rays and he’ll tell you; he knows it all. Angela Weber got starfishes on hers because she really loves them. She did a science project about them once, and even brought real ones in for all of us to see. Until then I’d only ever seen the dried, hardened ones that you get at the Milwaukee County Zoo gift shop. It turns out that they actually look a little gross when they’re alive, but I’d never tell Angela that; it’d hurt her feelings. Tina Borowski got daisies on hers. She’s crazy about daisies. She always has something daisy on her – barrettes, a pin, on her blouse or sweater. She draws them on everything. If you get a note passed to you that she wrote, it’s going to have a daisy on it, or more than one. She doesn’t even have to sign her name. Everyone just knows it’s from her. Some kids just got the generic “Good Job!” or “Super” the kind of stickers that we used to get on our spelling tests in third grade. Kevin Kennedy actually winced when he saw them in his notebook because when we were in the third grade, he was the worst speller in the class. I thought he should have felt happy about them because he finally got those stickers on his paper (couple years later), but I guess it just reminded him of the spelling tests he sucked at from a couple of years ago. On mine, were shooting stars. There was one on the entry about Mrs. Rasmussen, and there was another on the entry about Brian. I don’t really have a thing for shooting stars. I mean, they’re neat when you see them in the sky, but I wouldn’t say to my parents, “Can you buy me a Trapper Keeper with a shooting star on it?” Davenport must not have known what stickers to give me, or maybe she had these to use up, that’s all. That’s not even important. What I want to know is does it make a difference that I only got two stickers in my journal, and Eddie got five in his, or that Vince got six in his? Does it have to do with how many stickers you get? Is two ok? I know it’s not as good as five or six, but is it ok? I’m not about to ask Daveport. My cousin Dave came to live with us one summer when he was taking some college classes, and he told me “If you don’t like the answer, don’t ask the question.” Cousin Dave says a lot of neat stuff like that. Anyway, so that’s what I’m going to do – or not do, in my case.

***************

We got a new journal assignment: we have to write about an injustice we’ve suffered. Well, I know all about injustice, and I can tell you when it happened to me. Two years ago. It happened after my last doctor’s appointment, and I never went back to school again. Instead, I got sentenced here – this nightmare – where we have to always write about our feelings, or talk about our feelings, or what we’re thinking, only so that the grown-ups can use it against you. Because every kid knows that when a grown-up asks you to tell them what’s on your mind, you’ll get in trouble if you really do. Grown-ups only want to hear about the stuff that’s ordinary, and regular and plain and boring. And in here they make you do art therapy. That’s as ridiculous as it sounds. If art was helpful, then why did Van Gogh cut off his ear? Art certainly didn’t do him any favors.

Anyway, back to the injustice. I was just getting off the bus at my stop and waiting for me was Grandpa Zimmerman. I hadn’t seen him in so long that I gave him a great big hug He and Dad were going on a big fishing trip, but he must have canceled or maybe they decided to leave later so that we could spend some time together. I was wrong. Grandpa told me that he and Dad were up in the cabin and they were fishing on Emerald Lake. They caught trout, which they cooked for dinner. That night they stayed up and talked for a little while, and then they went to sleep. The next thing he remembered was that he wanted to see me. And here he was. I told him that I missed him very much. He asked me how I was doing, and I just couldn’t help myself. I told him everything. He listened to me patiently. When I finished spilling my guts out, I saw that we had walked to the park two blocks from home. And something I was trying not to think about all this time, came into my head.

“Grandpa, do you think the doctors are right? That I’m – do you think I’m-I’m”

“No!” He said it really loud. “There is nothing wrong with you! I told the same thing to that hard-headed son of mine. You have a gift. This thing that you can do. Why do you think they came to visit you? You help them.”

I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t say anything. I think he could tell. “I hope you take my word for it. What you can do is amazing.”

We walked home together. In the house, I saw Mom and Dad sitting at the kitchen table. Both of them were drinking beer, and it looked like they had been crying. Mom was about to say something to me, but I stopped her.

“It’s ok. Grandpa told me all about it.” I said to her.

She spilled her beer all over the table. “What did you say, Sweetie?”

“You don’t have to be sad. He’s right here. He was waiting for me at the bus stop-”

Dad interrupted me. Have gave me a hard slap across the face. Then he left the kitchen and went in the garage. Mom didn’t say anything. She wiped up the mess on the table. My cheek felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t stop the tears, and I couldn’t stop shaking.

Grandpa told me to come with him upstairs to my room. He was really angry at Dad. He sat next to me on my bed while I cried. When I finally stopped I asked him, “Can you go to Dad, so that he can see you so he’ll know I wasn’t making this up, and he won’t think that I’m-I’m-”

“Sweetheart, I’ve tried many different times. With your mother too. But they’ve changed. It’s easier with kids than with adults because your mind is open. As adults their minds tend to close up quite a bit.”

I was holding the side of my cheek because it really hurt. He told me to soak a washcloth in cold water and put it on my cheek to make it stop stinging. It hurt to put anything on my cheek, but the cold felt good. I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. Mom and Dad never called me downstairs. Grandpa said he’d stay with me until I fell asleep. Eventually I did.

When I woke up in the morning I was starving. The house was very quiet. Nobody was home, and even Grandpa was gone. My cheek stopped hurting unless I smiled too big or touched it. There was a bruise there, but it didn’t hurt while I ate my cereal.

Mom and Dad came home with a box of donuts. Mom said I could have one if I wanted. They don’t let me eat things with a lot of sugar, so that was a real treat. Then they sat at the table with me, and told me that I wasn’t going to school today. I was happy, at first. Then Grandpa told me that would need to be brave. Mom was talking to me, and Dad wouldn’t look at me. Grandpa said that they were sending me to this place where there were kids like me. All I heard was “they’re sending me away,” and I got scared. I couldn’t stop crying. I begged Mom and Dad to keep me here. I told them I would act normal. My stomach started hurting and I threw up before I could make it out of my chair. Grandpa called Dad a lot of bad names, but he turned to me and told me that he’d stay with me for as long as he could. I wanted to tell him to show himself to Mom and Dad so they would believe me and so they wouldn’t send me away. But that would mean I’d have to talk to him in front of them. I was stuck and I knew it. Grandpa tried to punch Dad, but all he got was air. That looked a little funny, and I started giggling. Once I started, I couldn’t stop, and I was really cracking up, even though my cheek hurt super-bad.

“Louise! Stop that right now!” That was the last thing Dad said to me. He didn’t talk to me during the long car ride, and didn’t say anything when they dropped me of here. Grandpa helped me be less scared. He told me about this place I was going to, and all the neat things that kids get to do here. He went with Mom and Dad the first time. He also told me a lot of different things were really interesting. Like in the olden days, way before he was even born, you used to have to wind up your car before driving it, just like toys. I couldn’t believe it. I was so sure he was making it up, but he said it was the truth. Imagine winding up a real car!

When the car pulled next to the building I started shaking again. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I could hear my heart hammering away. Inside the building a lady took my hand and said, “Hi Louise. My name is Dr. Davenport. Welcome to the Milwaukee Children’s Psychiatric Institute. Let me show you where you’ll be staying.” Grandpa took my other hand, and there was a big door that closed behind us.

THE END

Aisling

Aisling made her light very dim as she ran – practically flew – through the forest, trying to escape the raiders who were chasing her. Her heart hammered wildly and she was sure the sound of it would make her easy prey to target. She never had to run for her life when she was here; it was usually the place where nobody would chase her.  Branches brushed her arms as she flew.  The hood of her cloak was pulled over her head to hide her face; the colors matched the dense forest, and in the diffused light, she was only visible to other sprites. Still, this did little to assuage her fears.

She slowed to a walk when she realized it was quiet, and she looked around. Her eyes filled with tears. She was lost. Her wings twitched when she was scared, and they were twitching quite a bit now. The fear of being caught by the raiders made her temporarily forget her destination. She searched her memory.  She was definitely trying to get to safety, but at the moment she was lost in the attempt to lose her chasers. Then almost in an instant, she remembered. She wiped away her tears. The Sacred Stone Trees! To the elders! She closed her eyes and listened for the sounds of anyone she recognized. In a great great distance to her left she could hear the sounds of other sprites on the move. She wondered where her sisters were. It scared her to think of the possibilities, so she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She had to focus on reaching the others. She felt a little better knowing that she was only a day’s flight from the group. She tried to start running again, but something held her wings back.

“Gotcha!” said a familiar voice.

She was tackled to the ground by her friend, Rin. She gave him a hug. “I’m so glad to see you.” She was shaking a little and tried to steady herself.

“You’re ruining my victory,” he smiled. “This was the first time I got you without you noticing, and you’re ruining it for me.” Rin tried to keep up the facsade, but he was startled to see her light so dim. He was trying to distract her from whatever it was that made her so fearful. He had never seen her so frightened.

“Fine. You beat me. Are you happy?” Aisling was distracted, and could not hide her fear.

“Not anymore,” he pouted.

“I just got away.” Aisling’s eyes became very wide, and her ears pointed back. “Raiders.” She said the last word in a whisper, expecting to see one jump out of the trees.

Rin also became scared. Raiders, he thought. “In the forest?” he looked at her, wishing it was a joke.

“Remember when the elders said that the dark times are upon us? Well, raiders stormed the village near the forest. They’re telling the villagers that we’re evil beings, and the stupid villagers are believing them!” Her voice was both angry and sad. Tears ran down her cheeks when she spoke, but she didn’t wipe them away. “After all the ways we helped them! We healed their sick! They killed some of the sprites who were living at the Edge.” She whispered the last words. “And Rin, the raiders chased me to Darmurk Swamp.”

Rin’s light became dim. “They killed sprites,” he thought. His stomach lurched. “The villagers don’t even travel that far into the forest, and the raiders made it to the swamp.” He waited for her to say more, but for a long time she was quiet. He watched her breathe deeply and stretched out her arms. As if in response to her, branches from the nearby trees stretched to touch her. There was a small glow of light as energy exchanged between her and the trees. He saw become rejuvenated. Rin was startled. “Aisling, what are you doing? What’s going on?”

Aisling mistook the shock in Rin’s eyes for fear. This surprised her. “I- it’s something that helped me get away. It’s like they helped me somehow.” The way Rin looked at her made her extremely self-conscious.

Rin saw that she was embarrassed, but he could not stop staring. “This is the power of the Ancients. Aisling, I don’t even think the elders can do this!”

She changed the subject. “Where are my sisters?”

As if someone had snapped their fingers in front of his eyes he looked around. “I thought they were with you.”

“We were separated.  They wanted to stay to treat Ander’s young son.  I begged them to come with me, but they said that they would use a cloaking charm to hide themselves until they were safely in the forest.”  She stifled her sobs as best as she could. “They told me to run, and they would catch up with me. That’s when I saw some of the raiders and villagers pull the wings off of Apple and Clover. Then they stabbed them.” Aisling shuddered.

Rin closed his eyes and stretched out with his feelings to find her sisters.  He could feel them running swiftly.  They were being chased.  “They’re running.”  He whispered in her ear.

“Let’s put a cloaking charm on them, and the raiders will lose them in the woods.”

“How? They’re not here.”

“I think that’s how I was able to get away from the raiders.  All you have to do is see them in your mind as you say the words, and it will work.”

Rin’s jaw dropped.  That was deeper magic than he had ever heard of.

“Stop being a midge-mouth and help me.”

They both closed their eyes and whispered the words. The branches of the surrounding trees stretched towards them. He felt an inexplicable sensation pass through him, and all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It distracted him.

“Please concentrate.”  Aisling whispered to him.  “Don’t be nervous.  I think it’ll work better if we both do it.” She hoped that were true.

With the help of the nearby trees, Aisling and Rin were enclosed in a sphere of light and lifted in the air. The sphere was barely visible in the dense forest, but it held a power of their words.  They were like this for a while. Then they felt a strong pulse of energy push them away, and they fell down. Rin’s head was ringing in pain.  He didn’t get up right away, but sat clutching his temples as if squeezing his head.  His breathing was heavy, and he felt very weak.

“Rin!”  Aisling dashed to him.  “Oh no!  What have I done?  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  She dragged him to the nearest oak tree and propped his back against its trunk. She watched a glow of light travel from the tree to him. She kept him braced against the tree.

After some time his breathing slowly started to return to normal. He still felt exhausted, but now he was not in as much pain as when he first fell to the ground. Little by little he was regaining strength. He could not hide his amazement at what the two of them had just done, and it was surprising still that Aisling didn’t seem affected in the least. “You don’t look tired at all.” She didn’t look at him, so he tried again. “So, did it work?”

Aisling was beside herself with guilt, and she felt that there was no punishment severe enough if Rin was permanently injured. “Ugh! Why did I do that? How could I have been so stupid playing with magic that’s beyond me? If anything happens to him it’s my fault. I did that to my best friend.”

“Aisling!”

She looked at him.

“I was talking to you. I said did it work?”

At that moment they heard a whoosh! sound followed by two soft thuds, as two identical sprites standing a little under a foot tall, appeared before them. Aisling never realized just how unlike them she looked. They had beautifully shiny skin; hers had been dull like tree bark. Their hair had always been long and shimmery; hers, always short and messy. She was two inches shorter than them, and she felt even shorter before them now. What all three had in common were their eyes.  Whenever they were happy their eyes glimmered, and when they were angry their eyes looked as though they could burn someone on the spot.  She was pulled out of her reverie when one of her sisters spoke.

“Why are you two sitting around wasting time?”

She was relieved to see her sisters. “Holly!  Shar!”  She hugged them both so tightly, and the relief brought tears in her eyes all over again.  “I was so worried about you -” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

Shar broke away from the hug. “We should get to the elders right away.” Then she looked at Rin and said, “What happened to you?”

Rin noticed that her voice took on a mother’s tone.  He had lived the three sisters since his own family was slaughtered by the raiders, and he thought of them as his sisters.  “We were just -”

Aisling cut him off with stern look, “worried sick about you.” Then she turned to her sisters. “When I was at the Edge, I saw what they did to Apple and Clover. I started to run, but two of them saw me and started chasing me.”

Both sisters were silent for a while, each in their own thought. “We tried to shield ourselves when we were in the village, and for a while I thought it would work. But someone must have seen us healing one of the children because we saw a group coming after us, and we started running.” Holly absentmindedly twirled a leaf in her hand. “They chased us into the forest, and they still kept after us.” She looked up at them. “And then all of a sudden we ended up here. I can’t explain it.”

Shar scratched behind her ear. “I don’t understand it either. It happened so fast. Still, I’m glad to be far away from the raiders.” She looked at the group. “We should get to the Stone Trees as soon as possible.”

Holly was checking Rin. She turned to Shar. “He doesn’t look ready to fly yet.”

“I’ll get some water.” Shar left the group.

“Aisling, look for some food.” Holly looked at her sister. Aisling was reluctant to leave, but after giving Rin another look, she left.

“Now that they’re gone, Rin, tell me what happened.” Holly looked at him sternly.

Rin felt the strength returning to him. He wasn’t completely up to the long flight, but he felt that he could fly short distances as long as they took quite a few breaks. “I’m not exactly sure. I could feel you and Shar running, and Aisling and I tried to shield you both.”

Holly was shocked. “You tried a shielding charm on us from this far away? You could have died! What were you thinking?”

“How would you know?”

“I know that this is Ancient magic. I’ve never done it before but the elders have told me stories about this. I don’t know of anyone who has that type of abilities.”

“Aisling does. When we did this, she didn’t even get winded. She didn’t want me to say anything, but I think you should know.”

Holly was stunned.

“Do you know where she learned this?” Rin said.

Shar returned with some water, and gave some to Rin. “Holly, I don’t think he’s going to be able to make the flight tonight. We should camp for the night. Rin can rest and we can get to the Stone Trees tomorrow.”

“That’s a good idea. Go see what’s taking Aisling so long.”

Shar left again.

Holly made a small fire. Shar and Aisling came back just as the night started to close in all around them. They all welcomed the darkness. It made them feel even more protected. Rin sniffed the air; he was the first to be surprised. “Do I smell lillyberries?” His stomach rumbled loudly.

“We found so many of them not too far from here.” Shar had some of the pink juice still on her chin.

Holly laughed. “Glad you had your fill before sharing the rest with us.”

Shar blushed. “I was just checking to make sure they were ripe.”

They ate in silence, each lost in their own thought. There were so many thoughts buzzing in Rin’s mind. Everything seemed upside down with the raiders storming the villages, killing sprites everywhere. He shook his head, and laid down with his back against an oak tree.  In the morning they will make their way to the Sacred Stone Trees, and the elders will know what to do.  His thoughts drifted to Aisling’s abilities.  Where had she learned that? Holly seems to know. Full from eating, and tired from the day’s events Rin was drifting to sleep. The other sprites were stretched out on the ground as well. He could hear Aisling’s deep breathing. Shar and Holly were whispering to each other. He had a feeling that Holly was telling Shar about Aisling. After some time he fell asleep.

When he woke up, there was only the pale glow of the fire. The sisters were fast asleep. He was wide awake. He wished to see the stars, but the thick canopy of trees prevented that.  He knew he was safe and he didn’t want to wake up anyone, so he started climbing the oak tree that he slept by, to see if he could view the stars.  He was a skilled climber, the best of the sprites. When Rin climbed he made no sound.  He got to the top most branches and peeked through the leaves.  He saw a shooting star and smiled.  The stars were a deep source of comfort for him.  He sighed.  So much magic in the night air, it made his ears tickle.  He was tempted to climb back down and wake up Aisling so that he could share this feeling with her.  Then he remembered the small scar above left eyebrow. He got it the only time he had woken her up in the middle of the night. He couldn’t remember why he needed to wake her up that night, but he did remember fierce look in her eyes. She threw so many acorns at him that he had welts all over his body.  One acorn in particular hit him the hardest.  He rubbed that spot again and felt the scar.  He chuckled now, but at the time he was horrified by her temper.  He decided to take the chance.  He climbed down and gently shook Aisling’s shoulder.

She sat up so quickly she banged her head against his.  “Ow!  Rin, what’s wrong?  Are you ill?”  Aisling rubbed the side of her head.  She strained her ears to see if they’d woken up her sisters, but they were still fast asleep.

“I’m fine.  Come with me.  I want to show you something.”  He pulled her up.  “Follow me.”

Aisling heard him climbing, so she climbed after him.  When they were both at the tops of the trees, he pulled away some leaves so that he could show her the stars.  “Look up.”

“Wow.  Amazing.”  Aisling’s neck was stretched up, and the light from the stars made her eyes twinkle.

Rin was mesmerized.  “I wasn’t going to wake you up.”

“I’m glad you did.  This is wonderful.  You know it’s easy to forget about all these stars because we live under the trees.”  The rest of that thought left her mind completely.  She watched the stars.  Some twinkled.  Some were bright.  Some were a bluish color.  Other’s were a little reddish.  She didn’t know what part of the sky to focus on and wanted to see it all.  She saw a shooting star and gasped.  She couldn’t stop smiling.

“With this view it’s hard to imagine that there are dark times ahead.”  Aisling confessed a feeling to him that she never admitted to anyone, not even herself.

“I told Holly.” Rin blurted.

Aisling nodded. “I had a feeling that’s why she sent Shar and I away. Was she mad?”

“No, she was surprised too.” Rin didn’t tell her that he suspected Holly knew more but wasn’t letting on.

“Rin, we better climb back down.”  Aisling started lowering herself. “It’s almost first light, and I want to be well rested before we reach the elders.”  Aisling climbed down more quickly.

“Why?  Let’s just stay up here a little longer.”  He reached for her hand, but she was took quick for him. “Aisling.”

Rin saw that she was not going to change her mind, and followed her.  Though she had the head start, he still made it down the tree before she did.  When she finally landed on the ground and saw that he was leaning against the trunk as if he’d been there for hours, she smiled.

“The elders are right.  You are definitely the most skilled at climbing than any of our kind.”

He blushed at the compliment.  He brushed a lock of hair our of her eyes, and tucked it behind her ear.  He looked into her eyes and wondered what she must be thinking.  She was more a mystery to him than when they were just kids, and given what had happened last evening he was truly amazed by her in every way.

She felt uncomfortable by the way he continued to stare at her, without saying a word.  He had a mischievous look that wasn’t quite the same kind as when he was going to play a joke on her, but she didn’t want to take any chances.  Now was not the time for one of his pranks.  “Stop whatever it is you think you’re going to do.  This isn’t the time for one of your jokes.”

Her words snapped  him out of his daze.  “What?”

“I know that look on your face Rin Wreathollow and that means you’re up to no good.”

That’s what she thinks about me? He felt wave of anger zap through him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He snapped at her & instantly regretted it.

“Stop shouting!” Shar grumbled. She stretched & yawned deeply. “Save your lover’s spat for when we’re finally at the Stone Trees.”

Aisling was furious, but before she could say anything to either of them Holly spoke.

“That’s enough, all of you. It’s first light, and we need to leave right now.” Her voice was stern. Aisling was fuming, but she kept quiet. Shar chuckled when she had her back to them. She made sure that the fire was completely out before turning around again.

“Rin, how do you feel?” Holly’s voice was gentle when speaking to him.

He nodded his head. “I’m better. I can make it there.”
“Then let’s get going.” Holly led the way, and others flew behind her.

The four sprites heard sounds of the others, and realized that they made it to the Sacred Stone Trees quicker than they anticipated. Everyone was there, split up in different groups. Shar joined some of her friends. Rin and Aisling went their separate ways, each too angry with the other to say anything. One of the elders, Norin, greeted them when they arrived, and Holly very quickly pulled away from the group to talk to him. The other elders, who were at the cave by the largest tree, gave them their privacy. Norin ushered her inside the cave. She was humbled to be a part of the fire ring, where the wisest now sat. She narrated the past day’s events, and even as she recalled what Rin had told her, saying it to them did not take away the shock she felt – it was just as strong as before. When she was finished speaking, she felt more at peace. It was a relief to be able to say everything that was on her mind. The watched the flames sway as if in a gentle dance, and she was instantly at peace.

The elders all kept silent for a while, and finally Norin spoke, addressing everyone. “When Aisling was born we knew their was an air of mystery about her – it was revealed to us by the stars. At the time we did not know if that was to be a shroud of darkness, and so we all took special precautions in her instruction to teach her how to develop her abilities. Then it came to Dara in a vision that Aisling will be the one to bring peace, and now from what Holly has told us, we can see that it is so.”

“The time is coming very soon.” Dara’s voice was ominous. Holly felt goosebumps on her arms.

Another elder spoke, with a gentle voice full of concern. “The villagers will rebel against the raiders, but many lives will be lost and much of the forest will perish. Holly, you have always been my brightest pupil, and it will be up to you to be the record keeper and to teach the others when our time has ended.”

Holly was surprised at those words. After a moment she looked up and asked about something that had been on her mind all night. “What did Aisling conjure when she saved Shar and I?”

It was Norin who answered. “I do not believe she conjured anything. She seems to have drawn the deep energy of the Ancients. It resides everywhere – in the trees, in the land, all around us. If this power had been misused, it would annihilate every living being on this world. It is the great fortune of us all that she used this power for our well-being.”

“Please bring Aisling here,” Dara told Holly.

Holly bowed before leaving the fire ring. “I’ll be swift.”

She searched among the groups, but could not find her sister anywhere. When she found Rin, she asked him.
“She might be at the pond with Twisp.” He tried to go with them, but Twisp teased him until he went away. He mumbled something that sounded to Holly like “cotton-brained ninnykins.”

“What did you say?” She hid her smile.

“Nothing.”

“Well, I need to bring her to the elders.” Holly left in the direction of the pond, with Rin closely following behind. They found the two sprites with their feet dipped in the water. They were sitting on the edge of a stone, laughing.

“Aisling.” Holly’s stern voice startled Aisling and she fell in the water.

Twisp laughed harder than ever. Aisling came out of the water and shook the water off her wings, getting Twisp wet. “Hey!”

It was Rin’s turn to laugh. She deserved that, he thought.

“Aisling, you’re wanted at the fire ring. Come with me.”

Twisp stared at them with her mouth wide open, as the sisters left the pond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside the elder’s cave, seated in the fire ring, Aisling felt smaller than she ever had. Her heart beat so fast that she thought the sound of it would echo in walls. She looked at Rin, while Norin spoke to him. “Please make sure we are disturbed for a while.” Rin left the cave and guarded the entrance. Norin took his seat at the fire ring, and spoke to Aisling.

“Please tell us what happened when you went to help your sister at the village.” His voice was very soothing, and this helped calm her.

She took a deep breath, and began. She told them about the raiders attacking then killing Clover and Apple. Then about how she was separated from Shar & Holly. Recalling all of it again brought her fear to the forefront again. She wished she didn’t have to think about it anymore. Her voice hitched a little as she told them about being chased into the forest, and the protection she received from the trees. She hesitated. The elders waited patiently for her to continue.

Aisling was afraid to tell them what happened at the swamp. She started shaking. “When I was at Darmurk Swamp, the raiders were still chasing me. Then it seemed like all of a sudden the darklings grabbed them and started ripping their flesh. I was so scared that I started flying harder and faster than ever.” She recalled the sounds of bones crunching and flesh being torn, and she was almost sick. She shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to get the images out of her mind.

Norin’s voice could not hide his amazement. “You called the darklings out of the swamp?” He knew from legend that the darklings followed their own rules. “How did you do it? Did you say a spell?”

Aisling didn’t say a word. She wiped the tears out of her eyes, but the more she wiped the faster they came. She only shook her head. She took another deep breath. “I-I just wished that the darklings would come out of the swamp and grab the raiders. Then all of a sudden they did. That’s why I got so scared. I didn’t know that -” Her voice broke, “I mean I only wanted them to stop chasing me, and leave me alone. I didn’t want them to die.”

She finished her story by telling the group about Holly & Shar’s arrival. She was hesitant to explain the part about Rin becoming ill, and about how he was able to regain some of his strength when he leaned again an oak tree. She felt a renewed pang of guilt and hurting him, and braced herself for a punishment. None came. They all watched her attentively. When she finished, she was surprised that she felt a little better, though her heart still beat fast, she wasn’t nearly as scared as she was. The tears finally stopped.

Norin looked at her. “Is there anything else?”

Aisling shook her head.

They were interrupted by loud crashing sounds. When they went to the cave’s entrance, they could smell smoke. Everyone was well but they looked weary. The disturbance was not in their place; it came from a great distance. In the sky they could see black clouds forming. The elders recognized the sign.

Norin pulled Aisling aside. “Remember all that you’ve learned? And all that you’ve done recently?”

She nodded.

“Now is the time to hold nothing back. That is the sound of the raiders at war with the villagers. If the raiders succeed, it will mean the end of peace for all beings. You have the power to stop that.”

“But I don’t -”

“You do know how and I believe that you can. You’ve already shown yourself to be the most capable among all of us. What you have is the power of the Ancient Ones with you. This is the time for action. Use your instincts; they’ve always served you well.”

Aisling walked away from the cave’s entrance to the clearing in front. Though she felt afraid she did not hide behind it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She closed her eyes and stretched out her arms. The branches of all the surrounding trees reached out to her. The sprites in the area scattered in fear. Norin was able to keep them calm, but Aisling did not hear any of that. She focused on her breathing.

A sphere of light, like the one that developed when she protected her sisters, was now forming. She was lifted off the ground, just as before, but as the sphere grew brighter she rose higher. It was getting brighter and brighter by the second. All the sprites had to shield their eyes from the intensity of the light. Inside the sphere, Aisling felt overwhelming sense of tranquility. There was a slight tugging at her feet, and when she looked down she realized that she was feeling the roots of the trees pushing further down into the earth. Instantly she became one with the trees. She could feel their energy in her own being, and slowly she lost the sensation of her body. She was simultaneously every tree in the forest, every creature in the forest, the food that they ate, the air that they breathed – she was all things all at once. It was indescribable joy, and she marveled in it.

Then she felt it. It was a sensation of being burned alive. This was the war of the raiders against the villagers, happening in the distance. Many trees were being burned alive. She stopped it with a word. “No!” An echo reverberated from the sphere and sent a pulse of energy rippling through the forest with such force that many sprites had to cling to trees in order to keep from being blown away. When this force reached the warring group, the raiders were instantly killed. For generations hence, villagers described it as though lightening had struck down each and every raider.

The sphere of light disappeared in an instant, and Aisling’s limp body fell to the ground. Rin, who was stood beside Holly and Shar at the entrance of the cave, ran to her side. They did not hear Dara say to Norin, “It is finished.” The sprites were not able to revive Aisling. Norin examined the body, and his eyes sorrowful. Holly hugged her Shar, but neither could speak. Rin still knelt beside Aisling’s body, trying to will her alive. He couldn’t stop crying.

One by one all the sprites walked into the cave and placed an oak leaf by Aisling’s body, in their tradition to ease her passing into the world of the Ancients. Holly helped Rin to his feet, and she held his hand, while Shar held her other hand. When all had paid their respects, they sang the mourning prayer in unison, as the ceremonial fire was lit. The tops of the trees parted their branches, revealing the night sky, full of the brightest stars that Rin had ever seen. A shower of meteors passed overhead. He caught a faint trace of Aisling’s laughter in the air, and he smiled through his tears. “Well done little sister,” Holly whispered. “Be at peace.”

mind control/mental gymnastics

During the work week I’ve been starting out my days saying, “Today is going to go by fast,” and then just as fast as I’ve said, the thought disappears from my mind until the end of the day.  By then the thought runs through my mind, “Hey, I was right.  Today really did go by fast.”  I think I’m doing some sort of mental programming to myself – I’m doing mind control to myself.  Apparently, I can easily manipulate myself.  (I wonder if that means I could be easily hypnotized.  It’s harmless, so I don’t mind.  But it got me thinking about other things –  potentially negative things – that I might be saying to myself without realizing it.  It’s possible.  I suppose I’ll have to so some  sleuthing to track my thoughts.  Just now I was thinking that I could track those thoughts with my journal.

In my dream last night I was shown different moments in history.  What was revealed to me was the truth about those moments, and often the truth was something different than what was recorded in our history books.  For example, in my dream I was shown that the pilgrims were not extinct; they were simply off-planet, colonizing some other planet.  The person who showed me all these times in history, wasn’t in my field of vision, he was off to my left.  He explained why history was recorded differently from what really happened.  I don’t remember his explanation now that I’m awake, but it was detailed and it made sense to me.  What was supposed to happen is that the human race was not supposed to remember the people who were being moved to a different planet, but those who recorded the history did not have their memories properly erased.  They only remembered bits and pieces, and so it’s due to their faulty memory that we have our misinformed and inaccurate events in history.

I think this would make a good creative writing exercise. It sounds like it could be a good story. Since NaNoWriMo is coming up in November, I think I’d like to write this story.

hiatus

I can’t believe I’ve been away for so long.  Two months without an entry is a first for me.  It has taken its toll on me.  I’ve noticed that my dreams have been very strange & sometimes very disturbing whenever I don’t do much writing.  Many nights I find that I don’t want to go to sleep because I don’t want to dream something weird.  Many nights I’ve fallen asleep while having some program playing on my computer, but that doesn’t always work.  I’ve been looking for books that will make me laugh or programs online that will make me laugh, so that I’m in a more relaxed state & will then be able to fall asleep without having strange dreams.  I had also thought about writing a comedy short story, as an homage to Douglas Adams, but every time I sit down to write some other stories emerge from me.  It feels like I have no control over what’s going to come out of my pen, at any given time.

I should know better.  I should know that when my mind gets like this the prudent thing to do is double my writing efforts, and not cut them in half.  For many years writing has been the way to keep my mind in check (particularly journal-writing), so I can’t ever slack off or let a day go by when I’m not.

I’m not exactly sure how I got like this – long periods of unwriting.  Once I slipped, though, I just kept right on sliding.  Strange that it took me this long to notice.  I was sidetracked the other writing I was doing.  I’ve refined two short stories that might be publishable (maybe, maybe not), and I suppose that’s where my thoughts have been.  Well, that’s not the only place it has been.  I’m still in pursuit of good humor, in any media.

I’m happy say that I came across a funny TV show last week.  Parks and Recreation is a show that one of my colleagues told me to check out, and I was happy that I took her advice.  In some of these episodes I laughed so hard I could barely breathe, and after a while I got a headache.  I loved every minute of it.  I haven’t laughed that hard in months.  This was just what I needed, and it gave me wonderfully peaceful sleep.