Emily's House (The Akasha Chronicles)

by Wright, Natalie

  I sat on the ground across from her as I had become accustomed to and waited for her to speak. I was just about asleep when I heard her ancient voice croak, “Relaxed, Miss Emily?”

  “Well, yeah, I am actually.”

  “Good, good. For your lesson today, you must be extremely relaxed.”

  “I’m ready for this lesson.”

  “Yes, I believe that you are. This lesson, hardest for some to learn. I ask you question today.”

  “Okay, I can answer a question.”

  “Answer this question - who are you?”

  “Who am I?”

  “Is there echo in my mist? You have question, now answer.”

  “Who am I? Well, I am Emily, of course.”

  “No! That is a name. Does not answer question. Again, who are you?”

  “Well, I’m a girl. And my name is Emily. I am a human. . .”

  “No, no, no. Names only. Does not answer. Who are you?”

  “Well, I don’t know then, I think I’ve answered your question.”

  “You think you ready, but you don’t know who you are? Maybe Madame Wong put it to you another way. What are you?”

  “Well isn’t that different? Who I am. What I am. Two different things.”

  “No different. Same question. Answer now.”

  “Well I don’t know. . . I’m molecules and cells. Water and carbon.”

  “You describe that thing you call body that you drag around with you. What are you?”

  “I don’t. . . I don’t know, then, what I am. If I’m not this body, then what am I?”

  “Don’t ask me! I thought you knew who and what you are.”

  “Come on, stop with the riddles. I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

  “Only you can answer who you are.”

  “Apparently I don’t know who I am. How can I find out?”

  “Ah, that is good question. That I have answer for. Come,” she said and with that, came gracefully out of her handstand.

  I followed Madame Wong as she walked through her little yard and into a deep, dark wood (I didn’t remember it being there before). We walked silently for a long time, ever deeper into woods so thick you could barely see your way. We came to a small clearing, scarcely large enough for both Madame Wong and myself. Here she stopped and gestured me to sit on the ground.

  “Most important question, one you must find answer to, what you are. You will journey on your own now, to find answer. This wood will help you. Listen well to the trees. They will guide you. When you have answer to question, you will find me.”

  “But how do I find you? I’m lost here. I wasn’t paying attention to how we got here, and I didn’t mark my way!”

  Madame Wong rose from the ground and began walking away. I was up in a flash.

  “You can’t just leave me here! I don’t know what I’m doing. I could be here for days.”

  “Maybe months, even years,” she added.

  “What? This is going too far. Look, I’ve played along. But this – this isn’t right. Jake and Fanny – even my dad – they need me. I don’t have time to sit in the woods.”

  “Miss Emily, young human. Your journey here will be long one I fear. You already have seen you can create all that you need here yet you don’t accept it. Yes, long journey then.”

  “Well if I can create whatever I want, then I’ll create a road out of this mess.”

  “Once you have answered the question, a path as clear as the morning sun will appear before you, leading you to the next phase of your journey.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that. Loophole.”

  “I leave you now, Miss Emily. I see you when you have answer.”

  And with that, she was gone. No puffs of smoke or wave of a wand or anything. Just there one minute, the next vanished.

  There I was, alone in the darkest woods I could imagine. I didn’t have any food or water, no flashlight or other provisions. Just me in the dark. With Madame Wong gone it seemed even colder and darker in the small clearing. All I could think about was getting out of there.

  I wasn’t interested in answering her question, but I figured by the time I found my way out of these woods, I’d have something worked out to say to her. Walking again, destination unknown.

  37. Akasha

  I walked for what seemed like days, never seeing any light shining from outside the thick wood. Then I saw a clearing and I started to run. I was so excited that I might be out of the woods finally.

  When I got to the clearing I cried. I wasn’t out of the woods after all. I was right back at the same clearing where Madame Wong had left me! I had walked in circles.

  I sat down with my head in my hands. “Get a grip Emily,” I said to myself. I had to find a way out of that place.

  This time I was determined not to go in circles so I started out going in a direction that was at a ninety-degree angle from the direction I had traveled last time. There was no way to end up back in the same place going in that direction. And as added insurance, I thought about peanuts in the shell – a large bagful. There they were a whole bag of peanuts. Something to eat and something to mark my way.

  Off I went again, eating peanuts and dropping the shells as I went. I walked like that for many hours and was getting full and thinking I have to be out of these woods soon. Just about that time I looked down and could not believe my eyes. I was walking on a path littered with peanut shells! And in just a few minutes I was back to that same clearing.

  I had felt sad before, even depressed, but until then I’d never felt complete despair. I felt like I was at the end of my rope and it would never get any better. I was beyond tears. What’s the point of crying even? I was in a living hell. I was wandering in circles in a dark, cold wood, all alone. Utterly, completely, helplessly alone. And my friends were out there, somewhere, in our world wondering what had happened to me. And by now Dughall had probably already succeeded in whatever evil plan he had.

  What can I do? What’s the point of any of it? It was clear that I wasn’t getting out of there by walking out. I’d just end up in circles again. I sat down on the ground and curled up in a ball trying to sleep. I was lying there thinking about how pleasant it would be to at least have a comfy beanbag chair to lie on when one appeared. It was all fuzzy and so comfy.

  Now that’s more like it. Funny how a stupid beanbag chair could make life seem a little less hopeless. “How about a warm blanket,” I said aloud. Bam, there it was. Fuzzy, peachy soft blanket. Now for a nap.

  I lay there, curled up on the beanbag, snuggled in my blanket, wanting so badly to sleep. But sleep didn’t come. Instead, I just lie there, awake.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do here?!” I screamed into the woods.

  No answer.

  I’d rather spend my days facing Madame Wong’s blade than sit alone in these dark woods by myself.

  I was one hundred percent alone. No T.V. No cell phone. No computer. No people. Just completely, totally, utterly alone.

  There were many times, living with Muriel the Mean and Zombie Man, that I thought it would be so much better to live alone. But when you experience that –totally alone – well, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.

  “Well, apparently I’m supposed to sit in this stupid clearing until I figure out – what was it that I was supposed to figure out? Oh yeah, who I am,” I said aloud to no one but myself. Talking to yourself – not a good sign.

  I sat there on a beanbag chair, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. I heard the sound of wind in the trees surrounding me. I thought I heard a voice – like it was coming from the trees. The breathy voice sounded like it was saying ‘breathe’. So I closed my eyes and breathed deep like Madame Wong taught me. Open the receiver.

  I concentrated on my breath – on the rise and fall of air going in and out of my lungs. I found my mind getting more and more quiet. If a thought came in, I just let it go like Madame Wong had taught me – little birds. I concentrated
instead on the steady flow of air going in and out, in and out, in and out. . .

  After immeasurable breaths, I felt weightless. No sound. The breathy whisper of the trees was gone. I didn’t even hear the air going in and out of my nose. Complete emptiness. I knew instinctively that a part of me was no longer in the darkest wood.

  Where am I? I knew that wasn’t the right word. ‘I’ didn’t seem to describe me anymore. Am I floating? Not so much floating as just being without any effects of gravity.

  If I'd had eyes, I would have seen the most beautiful sight! It was like trillions and trillions of stars, tiny and large and miniscule and epic, all twinkling – no pulsating – and connected one to the other by what seemed like an almost invisible filament.

  This cosmic string was pulsating too. And it created a sound, like a low, melodic hum. As I tell this, I realize it’s hard to explain in words what I felt. It wasn’t just that each star was connected only to the next closest by this pulsating string. Instead, it was like all the lights were connected to each other all at once in every direction by this nearly invisible throbbing web.

  I’ve seen graphics of the nerves in your brain and how there are those spiderlike dendrites that finger out to each other. It was like that, but all lit up and pulsating with life.

  Do I still have a body? What am I?

  I can say I looked, but it wasn’t like I had eyes in that place. It was more of a knowing – a sight without eyes. As I ‘looked’ at myself, the being that I am, I saw that I too was one of those small, pulsating stars. And all around me, in every direction that I could fathom, was the fine mist of throbbing netting, touching me and surrounding me all at once.

  If I'd had a mouth, it would have been beaming in the biggest smile it could make. If I'd had eyes, they would have been crying from the rapture of unbridled joy. There is no feeling that I have felt in my human body that can compare to the pure bliss that I felt in that moment of being connected to all these twinkling stars by that lovely pulsating web.

  I concentrated on the low, melodic hum. I found that I could pick out individual notes, like the strings of a cosmic instrument had been plucked. Here, one is lower. Over there, it is higher. Some were so clear and beautiful. There were a few though that sounded a little off key. But mainly it was the most beautiful music I had ever heard.

  And yet to call it music isn’t quite right because there, in that place – if you can call it a place – I didn’t have ears to hear with. I just knew that there were different notes all playing together.

  What about my note? Do I have an individual sound? Can I tune into my own frequency?

  I again put all of my concentration on these questions. Within seconds, I began to hear a separate distinct hum. It was stronger than the others to me. It was clear and not particularly high but not low either. It was my own vibrating string, unique and individual amongst all the others, yet resonating with them as well.

  It was so beautiful there, I didn’t want to leave. In that place – in that time – I could see everything so clearly. I knew my own unique note. And I could see how I fit into it all.

  In that instant, I knew. I knew who I am. I knew what I am. I am not a human. I am not a girl. I am not Emily or a daughter or a niece or a friend. In that instant of pure joy, I knew the true nature of myself.

  “I know who I am,” I said (or was it a thought, I can’t be sure).

  In an instant, there was a powerful whooshing feeling like I was being sucked up by a large cosmic vacuum and then spit out on that beanbag chair.

  I took a large gulp of air because I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I blinked open my eyes, and there I was, back in the clearing of the deep, dark wood. Only this time, there was a golden path – my yellow brick road – and it was open before me with bright sunlight shining on it.

  Just a few minutes earlier – or was it days? – I had wanted nothing more than to forever exit that gloomy forest. After being one with Akasha, I wanted nothing more than to go back to that place of pulsating webs and stars and beautiful, resonant humming. It was my true home and I wanted to return.

  But I could see Madame Wong at the end of the path, her mere presence beckoning me. It all came flooding back, Fanny and Jake and Dughall and somewhere, my dad. All of them needed me. The pulsating web would have to wait.

  I rose and walked calmly and serenely down that path to the waiting Madame Wong. How did she know that I was ready to come out? How did she know that I realize the truth?

  “You ask that question? Why, when you already know answer. Annoying habit of yours asking questions to which you know the answer. Are you ready to answer your teacher’s question now? Who are you?”

  “Annoying habit of yours,” I said, “asking questions to which you know the answer.”

  Madame Wong smiled a bemused smile, one of the few smiles I had seen on her face. I knew though not to push it. It was important for me to answer this question aloud for my own ears to hear.

  “I am Akasha,” I said.

  Madame Wong bowed her head gently, and I followed her as she walked out of the darkest woods.

  PART THREE

  The Rise of Dughall

  “The best way out is always through.”

  —Robert Frost

  38. Umbra Nihili

  “. . . to arise and live once more, flesh reunited with spirit, to walk again as a man, back from the Umbra Nihili, arise when all has been aligned to achieve your deepest desire.”

  These were the last words Dughall heard spoken before his thousand-year sleep. Cian uttered them as he completed his dark spell, forbidden magic, at the end of Dughall’s life.

  Dughall and his army had wandered all over Ireland and the whole of Europe searching for the chalice. Over time, the legend grew and many came to believe that the chalice was the Holy Grail, the cup used by Christ at the last supper. But Dughall knew better. He knew the real power of the chalice. He didn’t care if they had it wrong. The fools. All the better for him.

  Little by little his army dwindled as his men tired of chasing a dream. They returned to their homes and families. Dughall had only the quest – and Cian and Macha.

  For many years he wandered, searched and fought battles. Eventually he grew old and knew his time to part this earth was near. But such was his desire for power and to achieve his lifelong goal that he was not content to go quietly into history.

  Dughall knew that Cian still had dark magic up his sleeve. As his last breaths drew near, he summoned the old wizard to his bedside to inquire of a particular ritual that he knew could help him achieve his deepest desire. Macha, ever faithful, brought Cian to his side.

  “Cian, old friend,” Dughall croaked. “I call upon you once again, as I did in the Grove those many years ago, to help me now with your dark arts.”

  Cian winced at the word friend. He couldn’t explain why he had allowed himself to remain with Dughall all these years, but it surely wasn’t friendship.

  “I have no charms or elixirs that will prevent your death, Dughall. You are a mortal, like all of us, and it appears that you will soon draw your last breath,” replied Cian.

  The façade of charm was gone from Dughall’s voice as he tried to raise himself up to confront Cian. “I know that, you old fool,” he growled.

  Macha flew to Dughall’s side and urged him to lie himself down once again. “What Dughall means to say,” interjected Macha, “is that he hopes that you have dark arts to help him direct his soul to that place that he longs to be.”

  “To Heaven?!” Cian said incredulously. “Oh, malevolent one, there is no magic in this world or the next powerful enough to send your immortal soul to anyplace good,” laughed Cian.

  “I’m not interested in Heaven or Hell,” snarled Dughall. “Don’t toy with me Cian. You know that I’m talking about the Umbra Nihili.”

  Cian immediately went silent. The mere mention of the name brought chills to his spine.

  “You don’t want to go there,�
�� Cian replied.

  “I do, and I know that you know how to make it happen, Cian, so don’t try to hold back on me. Your skill and knowledge of the dark arts is unmatched old wizard.”

  “Dughall, as much as I dislike you, and I truly do detest you to my core, I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to the Umbra Nihili. You don’t fully understand what you are asking,” Cian replied.

  “I understand that it is the only way,” Dughall choked out. With desperation in his eyes and his voice, he pled with Cian.

  “I’m not done here,” he said. “You know that I’m not finished. It is all that I’ve dreamed of; all that I’ve hoped for. And I can feel that it is close – closer now than ever before. I will achieve my dream, Cian, even if I have to sever my soul and wait a hundred years in the Umbra Nihili, it is a small price to pay.”

  Cian had never seen such desperation in Dughall’s eyes. There was something more there, more than just a quest for power. This man was on a mission for something even deeper.

  “You don’t know what you ask,” said Cian gently. “If you do this, you have no control you see. I don’t know when – or if – you’ll ever be able to come back. According to oral accounts, your soul will be reunited, and you’ll be thrust back into creation when all has been aligned for you to achieve your deepest desire. But that may never happen, you see. If you do this, you may have a fractured soul for all eternity, stuck in a place of nothing.”

  “I don’t believe that will happen, Cian. I know that my quest will be achieved, I just know it. I need your help though, old man. You must perform the ritual so I can go to the Umbra Nihili.”

  “But you don’t understand Dughall,” replied Cian. “It’s not like going off to heaven or even hell where you’ll be with other souls. You will be in the ‘Shadow of Nothingness’, in a place of no place. And you will be there all alone.”