The Azurean Trilogy (All Three Books: 1, 2 & 3): Essentia, Burgeor & Manifest

by Fatimah Ashaela Moore Ibrahim

  I didn't know what to expect. I began to panic, not knowing how long I needed to hold my breath, but when I felt a cool breeze brush my cheeks, my eyes popped open and I found myself in a park.

  Children were running around, playing on a jungle gym. Mothers sat nearby, rocking baby strollers. Joggers trotted down the paved walkway, engrossed in whatever music was streaming through their earphones. My heart jumped as I turned to my right. A hooded figure stood next to me, clothed in a long white robe. The opening for the face shone with white light.

  “Peace to you, Yaya. Are you ready to begin?”

  I nodded silently, my lips unable to move.

  “Look!” the robed figure commanded. I looked over to the jungle gym where the robed figure was pointing. My heart dropped as the playing children began to fall onto the ground. And it didn't stop there. The mothers began to drop, as well as the joggers, until there was not a single living soul left.

  My eyes flashed over to the robed figure, my eyes brimming with tears. “What's happening?!” I said, my voice panicked, full of emotion.

  The figure remained silent, and so I looked back to the playground. You must conquer your fears, or they will conquer you. The words came in a whisper in my ear. I spoke out loud.

  “I don't know why you all died. But I know that The Creator is Merciful. May your souls return to Him in peace.”

  In a flash, the scene disappeared, and it was replaced with the terrifying scene of a huge wolf who was facing off with a group of tribes-men. We were in a forest, surrounded by tall Rutelan trees. The wolf let out a mighty roar that made me want to faint. It lunged at three of the tribes men, and one by one, they all took off running and screaming.

  It then turned it's head towards me, red eyes glowing with rage. It hunched down and then sprang in my direction. For a few moments, I couldn't move, totally paralyzed with fear. And then, somewhere deep down, something was activated.

  I whispered the words, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,” and I raised my hands and shot a Pulse out that would have made Chord proud.

  The wolf instantly vanished, and I was suddenly alone in a white room. There was a table before me with two deserts. The robed figure's voice was beside me, although his body was not. “One desert is harmless, and one will kill you instantly. Pick one up and eat.”

  I looked from one plate to the next. Both deserts looked exactly the same: a slice of carrot cake with cream cheese icing- my favorite. But the way my stomach was turning into knots, enjoying the cake was the farthest thing from my mind.

  Choose. I had to choose and eat one piece of cake. I needed not only to pray, but to hear, feel, see some kind of answer to help me choose. Mama flashed to my mind:

  “The most important thing you can gain in this life is a relationship with your Creator. We are all capable of receiving guidance from The Most High. We are all just at different levels of doing so. Pray that He speak to your heart and guide you concerning all things.”

  Papa's voice came to me next. I remembered walking with him as a child through a forest to collect herbs for Mama.

  “God is connected to us all. And if you ask, He will guide you on the path that is right. Look in here,” he had said, placing an index finger on my heart. “Quiet your mind....throw out all doubt and fear. And then, listen.”

  I stilled my mind, and took in a deep breath. I prayed, Oh, my Creator, Guide me. Speak to my heart, and move me towards making the right decision. I kept my eyes closed, and shut out all sound. Then I opened my eyes, picked up the piece of cake on the right, and took a bite.

  Chapter 6

  “These six things doth the LORD hate; yea seven are an abomination unto him.;

  A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood;

  a heart that deviseth wicked imaginations; feet that be swift in running to mischief;

  A false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren.”

  The Holy Bible, KJV, The Old Testament,

  Proverbs 6:16-19

  I came to suddenly, gasping, choking, and soaking wet. Mother Kathleen covered me quickly with a thick blanket, and led me into an adjoining tent. It was modestly furnished, with worn moss rugs scattered on the floor and hand made quilts, curtains and pillows. Mother Kathleen led me over to the bed and urged me to lie down. It didn't take much convincing, because I was extremely tired.

  “Lie down, child. Get some rest. You have done well. You have passed the test.” Mother Kathleen's soft voice spoke as she squeezed the last traces of water from my hair. She tucked the blanket in around my shoulders, and then got up and began to leave. I was asleep before she made it to the door.

  ~~~

  And now, I felt like a new person. There was a sense of calm within me. I had faced some of my deepest, darkest fears. I had confronted my questions about God's justice and wisdom when things happen that I may not understand. I faced my fear of failure. And the biggest one of all: I allowed myself to totally trust My Creator- I placed my life totally in His hands. I faced the fear of death and came out on top.

  Now, it was as if experiencing the Safiyan Pool had opened my mind—placed me on a new level. I felt the threads of a dream begin to swirl about me until my surroundings materialized into vivid focus.

  My eyes opened, and I was in the middle of a forest. It was eerily silent, and layers and layers of powdery white snow blanketed everything. I let out a hazy breath and the cold vapor billowed up into a cottony cloud in front of my eyes. The warmth of it almost made me feel that I wasn't dreaming.

  A shimmer caught the corner of my eye, and I turned. There, suspended between two trees was a vision that wavered like a mirage. Without thinking, I began to walk towards it until I was face to face with the image. I reached out to touch it with my index finger, and a glistening network of threads immediately shot out from the place where my fingertip had connected with the web. The entire image wavered and shimmied, the threads making faint sounds as if a violin had been strummed.

  I blinked, and was back on Earth. I was in the midst of throngs of Cherokee Native Americans. I was a Native American woman, and was traveling on the Trail of Tears. We had just been forced to leave our homes in North Georgia on Earth's North American continent. We were families; adults, children and babies. Most of us were wrapped in blankets, and though it was winter, many of us had no shoes on our feet.

  I remembered how we had been taken from our homes and herded into concentration camps with horrible living conditions. Members of my family and many others had died from disease, hunger or the cold.

  I didn't understand why we were being treated this way. I couldn't comprehend how a person's heart could allow them to be part of conjuring up the Indian Removal Act. I couldn't come to terms with the reality that the bill had actually been signed into law.

  I knew that we were not savages as some of my time believed. I knew that before we had begun our journey, our community thrived with churches and schools. We had built roads and had developed an alphabet. I felt the despair of my people. I felt the ache for our home.

  The spiderweb of glowing threads glimmered again before me, and I was transported to Jallianwala Bagh public garden in India.

  I sat amongst throngs of other Indians. I could taste the fear in the air because I knew that the British had outlawed any type of gathering this size- even though it was peaceful. I sat with my entire family. My grandparents were there, even though they both suffered daily with debilitating arthritis. My parents were there too. We were all there to make a statement and to stand for what was right.

  Without warning, my stomach instinctively tightened, and moments later, gunshots sliced through the air. We all scattered. Bullets sank unapologetically into flesh. Bodies dropped to the ground. Clothes became soaked with blood, and hearts and eyes were filled with tears.

  I paused, trying to close my mind to the images, because they were too painful. I could feel
all of the emotions as if I were really there. The anger, the pain, the disbelief. The desperation to grasp at anything to be able to cope. But the spiderweb began to glisten again. I had to see it. I had to feel all of it.

  And I was back; my dream insistently fluttering its way back into clarity. Packed in like a sardine on wooden shelf-like structures that stood 4 rows high. I was in a concentration camp during the Holocaust, waiting for the next round of exhausting slave labor. I was surrounded by thousands, but was so alone. I had been separated from my entire family. Faces disappeared daily. I didn't know whether I'd be killed in a mass shooting, or exterminated in one of the gas chambers. All I knew was that my malnourished body would become one of the many which would be disdainfully tossed into the landfill of human bodies which grew every day.

  It was nighttime, and a brigade of still faced soldiers wrangled up a group of us and led us to the front of an empty building, the sullen overcast sky making my heart sink even more than it already had.

  The dreariness of the day mirrored my state—how I had been dehumanized, stripped of my rights, all because someone thought me to be less than themselves. Spotlights flashed , temporarily blinding us. When our sight adjusted, all we saw were the menacing black silhouetted outlines of a firing squad.

  I blinked once more and found myself on a plane, in the body of a flight attendant, walking down a narrow blue and gray carpeted aisle. I picked up two bags of pretzels and turned to face two men who were dressed in business suits.

  “And what kind of beverages would you like today?” I asked.

  These two men were nice enough, not like some of the condescending men whose comments bordered on harassment.

  I deftly began to fill their cups with ice and ginger ale. My hands moved on auto pilot, filling row after row of drink orders.

  It wasn't that I didn't like my job. I did. I got to travel, which had always been one of my life goals. But what I truly yearned for deep down inside was to be a doctor.

  As early as I could remember, I had always been drawn to helping people, getting a thrill from helping to make them feel better. The little box my mother had given me filled with bandages, cotton swabs, cotton balls, and tongue depressors had been routinely used on various family members. I had once shared my desire to be a doctor with my mother.

  For us, it was truly only a dream. It was 1942, and women couldn't be doctors. Or lawyers. We couldn't testify, vote, hold public office or file lawsuit. We couldn't open a bank account without the signature of our husband, and some of the only jobs we were limited to were flight attendant or secretary.

  My Mama's eyes had glistened with tears. She had glanced outside the window of our Oklahoma home at the maple trees swaying lazily in the breeze.

  She looked meaningfully into my eyes and said, “Baby, never give up on your dream. I know that you see one reality now, but remember that we serve a God who has always been able to make a way out of no way. Who can open a window wherever a door has been shut.”

  Motivation burned in my chest as I strode towards the tail of the plane. I had made up my mind. I was going to join the Women's Rights Movement. It would be the first thing on my agenda when the plane touched the ground.

  The glowing network sparkled all around me again, leaving me this time in Tennessee, 1890. Glancing down at my clothes told me I was a slave. Feeling the weight of the shackles binding my wrists and ankles and the crude wooden stage beneath my feet told me I was at an auction and up for sale. The derogatory shouts coming from the throngs of people in front of me told me that I had no rights. And the auctioneer yelling “Sold!” told me that I had just become someone's property.

  I blinked, and I was standing in the midst of fellow slaves, now. Our focus was on one thing- a young man who was strapped to a splintered post, his pants torn and dusty, and his shirt removed.

  “Whack!” the thick leather strap came down on his back and sliced through the top layers of his skin like butter. “I don't know why...Whack! ...you all make me do this...Whack! But you must learn your place....Whack! Running away will not be tolerated!”

  My heart was pounding. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. I blinked once more, this time my eyes opening to a bright and sunny day in Alabama. My arms were interlocked with other women who I knew to be my family: My mother and father on one side, and my sister on the other.

  I opened my mouth, and a deep melodious voice issued from my mouth: “O, deep in my heart, I do believe, that we shall overcome, one day...”

  The notes flowed up from the depths of my chest, strong, raspy, and filled with emotion. The very timbre of it made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  The song kept flowing from my lips, and the scene changed. I was now alone, standing on a hill in front of a huge oak tree that had long since lost its leaves. Instead, the bodies of three men who had been lynched dangled from the branches.

  I tumbled backwards as my hand flew up to cover my eyes. I had seen enough.

  The white robed figure was beside me again. “Remember,...remember...” the voice whispered.

  The darkness faded, and I was seated in a high-backed throne chair. The cushions were covered with a soft and shiny deep plum fabric. What was not covered with fabric was encrusted with diamonds, rubies and Obsidian II drop jewels. I glanced down and saw that I was dressed from head to toe in a beautiful champagne colored gown.

  It had a princess waist, high collar, and was gathered at the wrists, making the delicate fabric billow out slightly just above my hands.

  I sat at a long black and white marbled table. An assortment of foods were placed before me: A plate of steaming Silu strips drenched with some type of fancy wine and cheese sauce. Barbequed turkey legs stuffed with flowered rice. Tender chunks of stewed beef, carrots and onipers.

  There were also plates of desserts and fruits as well as golden goblets of strained Ouaberry wine. My mouth watered at the thought of taking a bite of any of the dishes that sat before me.

  And then I noticed I was not alone at the table. Emperor Borche sat at one end, and Princess Beema at the other. They were deep in conversation, unaware of my presence.

  “Father, Henken informed me today that the army is ready for inspection.” Beema said, spearing a chunk of Silu meat onto her fork. She swirled it around a few times in the sauce before sliding it into her mouth.

  “Mmmm, good, good!” Borche clapped his hands together, more interested in the update than the food now. He had been waiting for good news all day.

  “Then they will be ready to ship to all of the Sectors. It's time to do a little more cleaning. And who better to do it than a Mechanical Army? Just input the program, and they get it done. It will help keep the number of Inferiors at a manageable number. With all the talk of the Prophecy, I don't want them getting any grand ideas of revolution.”

  Beema and Borche shared a smile and chuckle before turning their attention back to the feast. I looked back down at my plates, and lurched backwards in my chair. Piles of slimy worms and juicy grubs had replaced the once appetizing spread.

  Images began to swirl around me. There was something more I had to see.

  At first, all I heard was marching. And then, row after row of menacing looking androids materialized out of the darkness, all marching towards me, their red eyes glowing fiercely.

  Knife like daggers shot out of their hands and sailed past me. I followed their path, turning around only to see the knives sink their tips into the throngs of tribes-people behind me. The tribes-people dropped like flies.

  I awoke with a start. They're planning genocide!

  Chapter 7

  For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

  The Holy Bible KJV, The New Testament,

  2 Timothy, 1:7

  I sprang into action, and shook the sluggishness from my limbs. Sister Kathleen had laid a towel and fresh clothes out for me as well as a metal tub full of steaming hot water which was co
vered to trap the heat inside. I opened the small box beside the tub, grabbed one of the chunks of ice inside, and hurriedly plopped it into the bath to make the water temperature comfortable.

  After hastily bathing and dressing, I took one of the fused prayer rugs off of the shelf, and made my prayer. I needed to gain some calm after the vivid dream I had just experienced.

  Once I finished, and my heartbeat had returned to a normal pace, I twisted my soft cottony white hair into a bun at the nape of my neck and wrapped the headscarf Mother Kathleen had left for me around my head.

  I walked back to the front of the tent, but no one was there. So, after borrowing one of the fur coats from the hooks that stood near the entrance of the tent, I ventured outside. I found my way back to the center of town where life was going on as usual. I guessed that everyone would be at the training Pavilion, and headed there.

  I entered and smiled. Everyone was there, seated and in different clothes. They were about to eat lunch and I had come just in time.

  The feeling in the room was one of pure relief. Greetings and hugs went around. I felt a surge of energy and hunger at the same time. I was so glad to see my Brothers and Sisters, and I was starving.

  Aziz got up and grabbed me in a bear hug. “Glad you're finally up Sis! How are you feeling? Did your test go OK?”

  I laughed and hugged him back. “Well, I'm alive, aren't I?” That got a few laughs. I was so grateful to see everyone there. It meant that everyone else had passed their tests as well.