Once Upon A Karma
Karmic Krystal series: Book One
Copyright © 2015 by Rosie Malezer
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
All books in the Karmic Krystal series are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Rosie Malezer
Written by Rosie Malezer
Published by Rosie Malezer
Dedication
To my beautiful son, AJ.
You live in my heart and soul
and I dedicate this, as a gift to you,
on what would have been
your 18th birthday. I love you.
Acknowledgements
There are a number of dear friends living around the world who double-checked my work prior to publication. I am very much obliged to those who selflessly gave their time to help make this book become a reality. Those beautiful eyes belong to:
Ruth Woodhams
Marina Schwartz
Lyn J Wiley
Kerrie Thompson
Tedi Dreiser Godard
Karen Bland
Debbie Malezer
Monica de Boer
Leanne Johnston
Maree Whiting
Hannah Malezer-Brown
Prologue
For as long as Krystal could remember, her nightly prayers would, without fail, begin exactly the same way. The phrasing of the first half of the prayer had never changed.
“Bide the Wiccan Laws we must
In perfect love and perfect trust
Live and let live
Fairly take and fairly give
Merry meet and merry part
Find thy will and bind thy heart
And ever mind the rule of three
What goes out, thrice comes back to thee
Eight words, the Wiccan Rede fulfil
‘An Ye Harm None, Do What Ye Will”
These sacred words of the Wiccan Rede would be spoken each night, followed by Krystal’s requests to the Goddess to keep her family safe, protect her friends, her cats, and give strength to those who asked her to pray for them.
Krystal lived every single day of her life as if it was a gift and a blessing. She knew that many people in this world had it tough.
Everyone is fighting their own private battle.
Be kind.
This was her morning mantra, with Krystal reminding herself of this fact every single morning when she woke. She knew that no matter how hard things had been in days past or would become, there was always somebody out there who had it worse. Sitting up in bed, she would thank the Goddess for the amazing gift of the new day ahead while thinking of everything in her life which was good and pure. Her husband, Mick, was one of them.
Since the day she had met him, her life had gained some stability and happiness and Krystal knew that without Mick, she might not even be alive. Thinking about him brought a smile to her face and filled her heart with love and joy. The moment her feet touched the floor, however, Krystal would feel herself being sucked into the same whirlpool of horrific memories and shame that had become so overwhelming and which had engulfed her every day.
Too many gruesome things had befallen her since she was a baby. There were secrets that she dared not mention – not even to Mick – starting with what her grandfather had done to her when she was little. With each shameful event in her life, her soul had been torn and frayed. She felt like a fresh set of dominoes – so powerful to the eye that people stared in awe at the puzzle and intricate design once presented, yet also easy to knock down with something as small as a feather. Her very life essence had become more and more battered and bruised. Some days it was hard to breathe.
Each morning at breakfast time, Krystal would listen to the news on the radio in between some of her favourite songs from the 1980’s. Without fail, the news was always bad. Nations had gone to war, a child had gone missing or had been found murdered, a school shooting, a suicide bombing. Krystal would listen as the government were making statements filled with untruths and cover-ups, leading the world to believe that they were wholesome and that her home country was lucky to have them in charge. She cringed as they openly lied, telling the listeners how wonderfully her people were taken care of, while she knew from experience that the government was poisoning the water supplies, evicting them from their sacred lands, bulldozing and mining their homes, stealing their children so they could grow up “less black.” Oh yes, Krystal knew the truth, alright. She had almost become one of what is now known as “The Stolen Generation,” although her father had not been so lucky. It was not until her father’s sixtieth birthday that he found out he had three more siblings than he had first thought. Thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.
“I miss you, Dad,” she said out loud, secretly wishing he could hear her as she spoke the words. Melancholy almost took over before her mind returned to the kitchen. The toast which had popped up in the toaster had grown cold. Shrugging, Krystal decided that cold toast and a hot cup of tea was just what the doctor ordered.
Tuning her consciousness back into the news on the radio, Krystal felt nothing but disgust as the media seemed to almost gloat about how they had gained all of graphic footage (which would, of course, be aired on that evening’s edition of the news) of terrorists worldwide, committing abhorrent acts towards fellow human beings who had done nothing to deserve such a punishment. How have so many people lost their way? She knew, however, that it was largely to do with the laws of many countries now making it illegal for parents to punish their children. Growing up without any sort of discipline, too many youths thought it ‘cool’ to wield a gun at school or to fly to another country and start cutting the heads off living things – whether human or animal – for the sake of being a headline on international news. Before the government stepped in to forbid a ‘smack on the backside,’ which had personally taught her manners and respect in her youth, the crime rate worldwide was low. People were not hurting others for fun back then like they were today.
As a child, Krystal had been branded a liar by her mother and step-father when she had told them that her much older cousin, just one week before she had reported it, had raped her. After being screamed at, told how disgusting she was and being emotionally body-slammed into a concrete slab of shame, she had instantly survived a crash course in how not to trust people. Krystal had even gone into detail of what her cousin had done to her. At five years of age, children were not supposed to know that much about sexual intercourse, about bleeding and pain, or about the fear of being threatened during rape while the grown-ups were asleep in the next room. Parents were meant to protect their children. Her father had done just that for the first five years of her life. But after being called a liar that day, it had had taught her one important lesson – sometimes keeping such things a secret is safer. Regardless of all the goodness that was now in her life as an adult, Krystal carried her childhood shame everywhere she went.
Sometimes when she was alone, Krystal would openly weep. Clutching her chest between sobs, the emotional pain was crippling as she would cry out loud, “Goddess, why me? I don’t hurt anybody! Why did you let these things happen? Please make it stop!”
Chapter One
Krystal Randell and her husband, Mick, had been happil
y married for ten years. When they first met, they barely spoke the same language. People say that there is no such thing as coincidence. Maybe that was true. But then again, the amount of coincidences which had brought Mick and Krystal together were just too many to count. She had bumped into him accidentally while on holidays overseas, and then again on the internet, and again and again. Krystal had said how much she would love to be able to speak Finnish. Mick wanted, just as much, to learn how to speak English without an accent. Part of this wanting left a pang in Krystal’s chest. She absolutely loved the Finnish accent! Luckily, over time, Mick had learned the English language quite well while Krystal had learned conversational Finnish. Both were ecstatic to finally be on the same communication page, until a mystery illness struck Krystal 13 years after she sustained horrific head injuries. The illness had left her literally Deaf overnight.
After Krystal’s diagnosis of being profoundly Deaf was confirmed, Mick’s first reaction when they returned home from the hospital was that of tears. He lay on the bed and wept uncontrollably. It made Krystal’s heart sink. Watching her husband’s reaction gave her the feeling that she was attending her very own funeral; that her beloved was mourning her death. She felt her face burn and almost wished herself dead, knowing that she had caused him this amount of pain. When he smiled, every room within a hundred mile radius would light up. Anybody lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his smile would also unwittingly find themselves smiling. His tears had the same effect. When Mick cried, it felt like the world was ending. Although she could not hear the sadness in his voice, her eyes watered and it took every bit of strength she had not to break down in front of him.
After Mick was all cried out, Krystal told him that every single thing in life happens for a reason. They had found a way to communicate against all the odds once before. Now they could do it again. It wouldn’t be easy, but the journey would most definitely be worth it. Besides, she was Deaf, not dead! She could still do all the things with him that they did before. They would simply need to find a new way to communicate. After approaching the government and being offered a sign language course which would cost Krystal almost one year’s salary, she instead turned to the internet, researching different methods in communication that she could use with Mick. Krystal reached out and found solace in sign language instruction from a Deaf linguistics professor who lived in the United States of America.
As her sign language classes started, the doctors at the local public hospital tried with all of their might to convince Krystal that having a Cochlear Implant was her only option. They further advised that she would lose her sanity if she chose to communicate with sign language instead of having surgery to make her hear again. Preferring to keep their options open, Mick and Krystal continued with their sign language classes. After finally deciding that she didn’t mind the silence in her life, and informing the doctors of her decision, those same doctors showed their true surdophobic colours, with a giant shot of audism thrown into the mix. Like toddlers throwing tantrums, they immediately withdrew all assistive devices from Krystal and created road blocks everywhere possible within the government system. She was refused interpreters, refused any treatment from within the hospital when she was ill from asthma or diabetes, and denied every human right imaginable to a Deaf person. Within six months, however, Mick and Krystal’s perseverance in learning to communicate with sign paid off and they found themselves able to sign to each other using ASL (American Sign Language) fluently. In that time, they had also become good friends with Krystal’s sign language professor from across the ocean.
When dining out, Mick and Krystal could once again have their regular conversations during their meal. They both found it remarkable how they could have those discussions with their mouths full, as they would be using their hands to talk instead of their mouths. At first, it irritated them both when other restaurant patrons and staff would stop eating or serving food and stare at them when they signed to each other. In Krystal’s opinion, staring at people who were signing in a conversation was the equivalent of eavesdropping. It was nothing short of rude and she would usually find herself staring back at the starers while continuing her signed conversation with Mick. After confiding in her sign language professor about the frustration due to the staring strangers, Krystal was given the idea to print up cards with the letters of the ASL alphabet on the back, while on the front of the card, the recipient would read: “Sign language is a fun way to communicate, whether you are hearing or Deaf!” followed by a link to a site that had been provided by her professor.
In the five years that followed, Krystal had handed out quite a few of these cards to staring restaurant patrons and staff, making some new friends in the process. It gave her a good feeling inside, knowing that she had finally begun to help bridge the communication gap between Deaf and hearing people in her neighbourhood.
It came as quite a blow, however, when the government and the staff of the hospital continued to deny Krystal the use of an interpreter in order that she could communicate at appointments, whether with a doctor, police or otherwise. After all, she was Deaf. But Krystal quickly found out that as far as the government was concerned, Deaf people didn’t need to interact with hearing people any more. Unfortunately, she had become redundant. After a year of fighting for her right to an interpreter, Krystal ended up having to hire an attorney in order to try and sue the government for discrimination and breaching the State’s Acts and Constitution towards its citizens. It was a law suit that had so far lasted several years, due to the fact that there was a law in place which prohibited disabled people from taking legal action against the government.
After 48 years of a life filled with horrors and tragedy, one small step forward, followed by ten steps backwards, then another step forward, the stress was overwhelming. Try as Krystal might, all the good she was putting out into the world on a daily basis seemed to be crushing her in return. The blows were painful and without mercy. Her soul took more and more of a beating and the constant stress and torment resulted in a stomach ulcer. Krystal could no longer keep food down without vomiting it back up, accompanied by a whole lot of blood each and every time. Gaviscon became her go-to “after-dinner drink” in an effort to keep the bleeding and nausea at bay. For a while, it worked. Sometimes it would even lead to Krystal having a good night’s sleep. Sadly, those nights were rare.
Donning his best clothes – a blue suit, no tie, top button of his white shirt undone and freshly polished black shoes – Mick decided to take his wife out to eat at one of her favourite restaurants by the lake. Not being told of her of their destination, Krystal was unsure of the occasion and felt slightly panicked as to what she should wear.
“Just wear your prettiest, most comfortable dress… and some walking shoes,” he advised. “We will stop and buy some unsalted nuts on the way.” This last bit of information gave cause for Krystal’s face to light up. Unsalted nuts could only mean one thing: The place where they were going had squirrels!
The sun’s rays glistened off the rippling water as squirrels ran around madly on the sandy and grassy knolls, each gathering a stash of food for their nests. Sunshine was such a rarity in their town during summer, and Mick wanted so badly to see his wife smile. He knew how much Krystal loved squirrels. Viewing them lakeside would bring her even more joy as she also loved the water. With no car parks available nearby, Mick had to park a few blocks away from the restaurant. It was not very far to walk – just three or four roads to cross. There were no steep hills and traffic was light. As Krystal used a walking stick, due to an injury she sustained in a falling elevator several years before, Mick knew that he had to make the walk an easy one for his wife. No hazards. No roadworks. And most important of all… no cranes! While Krystal had many fears – agoraphobia, claustrophobia, taphephobia, arachnophobia (just to name a few) – her biggest fear of them all didn’t even have a phobia name. Krystal was absolutely terrified of cranes which were situated at building sites, and driving or walking u
nder the path of one (should it ever fall) was unthinkable.
Crossing each road a few steps behind Mick, Krystal always felt more secure when she could see her husband walking ahead of her. She noticed the sun glisten off the water in the distance and found herself smiling at the beauty of nature, when the walking stick in her left hand suddenly became stuck between two of the cobbles in the middle of the main road. Krystal’s attempts to dislodge her cane from its entrapment were futile. She looked up to see that Mick was still walking. When Krystal opened her mouth to call out to him, her words would never be heard by her husband or anybody else. With all of her attention on Mick, she did not see the bus speeding through the red light at the intersection. The last thing she saw was a close-up view of the bus’s front grill as it hit her at full speed, leaving her last thoughts unspoken.
All of the traffic came to a screeching halt. Mick watched in horror as his wife was catapulted several feet into the air. He ran to his wife’s broken body and fell to his knees, weeping mournful tears of sorrow. Police and ambulances arrived. Witness statements were taken as an ambulance transported Mick to the hospital after he collapsed in shock. A secondary vehicle was loaded with a gurney carrying Krystal’s body – bloody and mangled – transferring it to the morgue after she was pronounced dead at the scene.
* * *
Time stood still for Krystal. Every single moment of her life, both good and bad played through her head. It was akin to watching a video tape fast forwarding at the highest speed. Once the final scene of her life had played, she found herself in the Summerland. Krystal continued watching as Mick collapsed by her side and was whisked off by an ambulance. She almost felt her heart implode at such a gut-wrenching sight. Krystal then espied as her own body was placed inside a large black body bag and was loaded into the coroner’s van amid obstreperous bystanders. As the doors of the van slammed shut, darkness enveloped her. Krystal knew her soul, in its entirety, now lay in the Summerland and that she was standing at the crossroads.
Once Upon A Karma (Karmic Krystal Book 1) Page 1
