by P. Milisande
Elle’s mom grew sicker with every passing day. In the end, they lost her. Maia thought she also lost Elle.
She looked at her friend. When Dad died… you became my rock.
Friendship and death bound them.
She held Elle’s hand. “Promise me if this happens again you will see a doctor, okay?”
“Maia, I am afraid... What if I have it too? I can’t have my dad or Liam go through that again,” Elle whispered. Maia could barely hear her.
Maia hugged her friend. “You are going to be okay, you are going to be okay.”
Elle embraced her tighter.
Suddenly, Maia felt a movement, a nagging itch, a shadow. Someone is looking at us. She looked around.
Elle grew still. They caught each other’s eye.
“Did you…?”
“I did…”
They peered through the bushes. Nothing. No one.
“That’s odd…”
“But it looks like we are the only ones who are awake.”
Maia shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, come on! You are not going to believe what I saw on Google Earth!”
Pleione, secret–keeper, guardian of the veil and mother to the sisters looked on. She hid a tear from her keepers.
Poor daughters.
They do not know they will soon wrestle with the past they no longer remember. A past that continues to haunt them.
But I will make sure they remember.
And maybe, this time, they will not cause the great cataclysm that promises to alter once again the lives of men.
CHAPTER 4
~
NOTHING SEEMED UNUSUAL ABOUT the clouds that rolled in. Except they were not clouds. If one looked closer, one would see held within it countless miniscule blades that spun in unison. Its purpose, to veil him from the world.
He, the Great Bearer.
Perched high on the water, he had grown oblivious to the rolling clouds or to the waves crashing at his feet.
With brows creased and muscles taut, he pushed. With great strength, he lifted the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. Terrible pain pierced his immortal body. When he thought he could take no more, the weight lifted.
The Great Bearer heaved a heavy sigh. He felt the enchantment of the tower’s ancient stones seep from him. He knew it punished him again because he thought of foregoing his burden.
My punishment.
I would have gladly embraced death.
But he could not die. He could not give himself the gift he sowed upon the world. The better to remind him of his betrayal.
Pain. He would not allow himself pain. But the task made him weary. And like the other days, he felt beside himself with agony.
I made the prophecy come true. I am a fool. I will not forget. He will not make me forget.
Seen only by the eye in the sky as a sharp pin that held up the heavens, he remained but a speck. Invisible in the visible world. Hidden from human eyes.
But nothing could be hidden from him.
Not chaos, not destruction, not death. Not the passage of time. Over and over again, I bear witness to all that I had caused. Impotent to put a stop to it, powerless. Damned.
But the Great Bearer did not want to think of his burden. Not this day.
He looked to the horizon, beyond, grasping at the fringes of blue and fading images before him. Momentarily blinded by the blaze of the setting sun, his dark thoughts continued to give him torment.
The sky is vast, empty, and blue. The sea stretches to forever. And Time. I am a prisoner of Time. How unforgiving it could be.
He focused his gaze on the darkening blue of the sea and tried to look deeper. His gaze pierced its thick blue-black darkness. He saw through the froth of its waves and its sudden glimmer. As if sensing his stare, undulating sea life crept and crawled deeper into the sea.
He saw her. She thought he could not see.
I could see her and yet I could do nothing.
She had given him this – given him what he wanted. The world, with the heavens as his crown.
He laughed, but his laughter turned to despair.
The clouds rolled from white to gray to ebony. A fierce onrush of wind battered the tower. Creatures of the ocean dove to escape what they have grown familiar with but still fear – his wrath.
In the waters grew terrible tremors. Below, waves upon waves crashed upon hardened basalt rock.
The people on the shores of San Andres de Tumaco sensed the disturbance. They looked to the sea and saw the ebony haze that carried in its bosom an ominous el tornado. Thick fog roiled and rolled to the shore, and with it, the sudden assault of wind and waves. They ran to their houses, minuscule ants doused with the heaving sea. Those nearest the ocean hastily boarded up their windows. And knelt before the statues of their saints.
Los dioses están enojados nuevo. The gods are angry again.
Ayudanos. Help us.
No one came to their aid.
They braced themselves for another sleepless night.
In the waters below, a huge opening gaped, as if in agony.
Ursula had forgotten many things, but she remembered her eyes. She was told it mirrored the burst of many stars – multi-colored, pulsating, searing.
Because of it, they called me the Enchantress. The Dream Weaver.
With only a stare, she could make dreams come true. She could take anyone’s deepest desires, laugh at it, do with it what she pleases.
I can inflict pain, deliver punishment and sorrow. I can bestow ecstasy, I can withdraw it. I can confound, inflame.
A glow came over Ursula at her delight in remembering, and it illuminated her true form.
Until I had a dream of my own.
Darkness, painful and swift, took Ursula again.
Weary, she sat upon her throne. Her eyes scanned her confinement. She knew every glimmer of black in her obsidian cave. The prison where they banished her for eternity.
In the middle floated a glowing crystal orb, her sole companion. Her window to the world where she no longer had any powers. Where she can no longer plot. Or carry out her mischief.
Or make prophecies come true.
Where she watched and followed those whose lives she altered forever.
She did not want to remember but she could not stop remembering. Her solitude and despair inflamed the anger and darkness she always had in her soul.
She could not stop watching. But today, the crystal orb lay flickering, unresponsive. It did not show her what she wanted to see, punishing her.
I did this.
Because she uttered the word that had altered everything. The unspeakable command – ephphatha – that split asunder the world and the heavens.
With the fulfillment of the prophecy came death. The two that were one were no more, each had gone beyond the reach of the other.
She had dared change everything, and in the process lost – everything.
And thus, they condemned her to live a life that was not a life. An existence in the netherworld, all-seeing but veiled. Powerless.
She laughed bitterly because she had done it only for...
Ursula felt in her heart a familiar stirring.
The stirrings of life.
It is impossible.
CHAPTER 5
~
BACK FROM HER BREAKFAST with Maia (where she had only tea and Maia had a bagel, a muffin and iced coffee), Elle felt yellow (slightly happy). She went to her room and put on a t-shirt and gym shorts.
‘I’m loving this,’ Elle muttered as she hung upside down. Inversion, they called it at the gym.
She tried it tentatively at first, but she became hooked. She discovered she did not like jogging or running or lifting weights. She liked to hang! So she bought her own inversion table and asked her brother for help in installing it in her room. Of course, Liam needed more than just prodding or pleading. Ten bucks did the trick.
That boy is such a little prick. But he is my prick and I love him so much.
Her alarm blazed, but she still did not feel like going to work.
Elle balanced herself on the table, her hands touching the ground. She released the straps, ready to tumble and fall. She executed the move gracefully.
She put on the kettle.
Tea, must have tea.
She loved her tea. Hong Kong brought it into her family’s life.
Hong Kong… Mom…Happier times… Before things changed. No. I am deciding not to be sad today.
Her mother’s work assignment brought their entire family to Hong Kong. On their first day, they ventured to urban Tsim Sha Tsui. Tired, parched, and lost in the sea of shops, they tried looking for a place where they could cool down. They saw a tea shop and there they found the daintiest of women. She sat in the middle of a big room, her legs tucked delicately behind her slightly parted many-colored skirt.
The vision – if she had her paint brush and canvas Elle would have painted her – sat in front of a contraption. A bamboo table that had barely perceptible slits. On it sat the littlest and most exquisite cups. The lady smiled at them and took from the stove a kettle, piping hot. She poured with very deft fingers scalding water on the bamboo. It slightly touched the tea cups. She poured out the water from the cups, gently lifting them with chopsticks one by one. The rivulets of water ran down the bamboo and turned it into an even darker brown. She looked at them from behind long delicate lashes and bid them sit down. They did. They had to. They could not take their eyes off her, even young Liam.
Elle understood little of what her parents and the lady talked about that day. But she will always see before her that picture of calm.
Of being totally immersed in the moment. So much like the settling of leaves, slow and definite. As if there is all that time in the world.
She understood then that some things – like perfection – could not be rushed.
They bought bags and bags of tea that day. They bought tea with flowers that bloomed, tea with some pleasant after-taste. Some sweet, some bitter, earthy, and woody. Teas that evoked memories and made her remember vividly that day.
White… Definitely a white memory.
With movements both automatic and elegant, Elle brewed herself fresh tea. Steaming cup in hand, she looked at the scene outside her bedroom window. On her street, cherry blossoms had begun to come out. Most petals remained closed, but she knew the warming weather would coax them to open.
In a day or two, it would be in full bloom. I have to get my paints out of storage.
She sat back and relaxed. Mild caffeine and endorphins surged through her body. She welcomed the vivid intensity and richness of feeling she knew would come.
She became aware of flexing her fingers. She wanted very much to capture the image of the cherry blossoms, etch it into her memory. Have her brush caress its outline into paper.
But I live in the real world. I have responsibilities.
Unaware of the eyes that watched her, she continued to sip her tea.
Something’s not right.
Elle put her tea cup down. She felt a tingling feeling at the back of her neck and the onslaught of a headache.
Black.
A dizziness so powerful came over her and she fell to the floor unconscious.
Maia woke up from a light nap after her breakfast with Elle. She stretched her limbs and reluctantly pulled out her laptop from her canvas bag. She sat on her bed, legs sprawled, limbs bent. She pulled her chestnut brown hair into a bun and pounded heavily on her keyboard. She tried to – she did not know what she tried to do.
Not to think, perhaps, letting words spew from my mind.
Elle prescribed her this “exercise’. She reminded Maia to do it again this morning when she told her of her blue-ness.
“You have to write, Maia. It’s the best form of meditation.”
I am so glad I found her. Or that she found me. I don’t know.
Maia maintained a private website in some random WordPress account. She only ever shares it with Elle.
“What’s the use of having it on a private website? You have potential. Why hide?”
Elle’s an editor. She would know about potential. I wish it were true.
“Let’s kick this up a notch. I dare you to have it on a proper website,” she remembered Elle saying just this morning.
“Nah, maybe not. What would I write about?”
“What about Google Earth? Or Atlantis?”
“I don’t want to write about that. Do you think I can just hint at writing about it? Or can I write about anything random?”
“It’s your website. You can do whatever you want.”
“Hmm… What do you think about ‘Veil Over Atlantis’?”
“VeilOverAtlantis.com? That sounds eerie. I like it.”
Maia searched for the domain name and bought it.
It is done.
She resumed writing. But doing it right after sleeping (and after a heavy breakfast) made it a tad hard. She forced herself to type.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will turn 17 on the 7th day of the 7th moon. He will not be there to see me.
Something made the hair on her arms stand on end. She frowned and looked around. She bent her head once again and continued to type.
Something is wrong. Something shifted in the air. I’ve done something, forgotten something. And now I will be reminded, reprimanded, because I have forgotten.
The words on her screen gave her an odd sense of foreboding. She did not know why she typed it. She shook her head as if warding off a headache. And then she remembered. In her sleep, she dreamt of the ocean.
Is it because of what I’ve seen? Maybe I should stop using the Eye in the Sky.
Eye in the Sky – the name she and Elle gave to Google Earth.
But I don’t think I can.
She saved what she wrote, closed her laptop and headed out the door. She almost jumped when she heard her cell phone ring.
“Hello…?”
“Hello? Maia...? Shoot! Forgot that it’s just 8 am there. Did I wake you up?”
Nope. Not Elle. But the voice sounded familiar.
“Who is this?”
“Sorry... It’s Noah. Do you remember me? Oh, I’m sorry. I can call you again...”
“Noah?”
It could not be the Noah of her childhood, her puppy love, her dark desire. Her co-pilot in her one and only Cessna flight. A happy part of her past. Could it? She remembered she quit the Club after that first flight – thankfully, her father said yes. And though she saw Noah in some functions – in her embarrassment, she hid when she can – he never called her before. Ever. And wasn’t she just holding his photo?
What a coincidence…
“Yes, it’s me... Sorry, Maia... I just had this weird dream... I know I’m probably not making sense but...should I call you later?”
“Oh, no, no... It’s okay. I am just, well, surprised. How are you? I’m already awake anyway.” Did that sound too eager? “Where are you? Aren’t you on the island?”
She knew that Noah went to an all-boys exclusive college at Vancouver Island – Of course, I know. An ocean separated them. And a two-hour boat ride. Maybe 30 minutes by plane, if she walked – Stop the thought, Maia. He’s where?
“No, school’s out last week. I’m on the East Coast but I am going back to Vancouver this weekend. Um… Maia… Can I see you?”
See me? What does he mean see me?
“What do you mean see me?” She did not realize she said it out loud. Very cool, Maia.
Noah laughed.
My stress level is up to here and he laughs.
“I just want to see you if that’s okay… Can I pick you up on Saturday at 6? Does that schedule work for you?”
Is he asking me out? Okay, will figure this out later. Must remain composed, demure, alluring. Not scary or scared. Too hard.
“Are you asking me out?”
I’m a bumbling idiot. What would he think of me?
“Well, I guess yo
u could say that. And…is it not your birthday?”
“I can’t believe you remembered!”
I could die now. Maybe after our date. It is a date, right?
“Of course, I remember. Oh, should I ask your mom for permission first? Are you allowed to go out?”
“She knows you. It should be okay...” I think.
“Okay, see you then...?”
Something about a dream.
“Um, Noah, you said something about a dream… Care to tell me what that’s about?”
“I will tell you on Saturday, I promise.”
I am dying from suspense and excitement and he wants me to wait two full days?
She managed a shaky, “Okay... See you Saturday.”
She waited for the click on the other line before she put the phone down.
“Why do you have that funny smile on your face?”
She jumped when she realized her mom was standing by the kitchen door. Mom frowns a lot these days. Did she hear? I think she heard.
“Oh, didn’t know you’re already awake, mom... Um, it was just, um, Elle. We are going out on Saturday. That’s okay, right?”
Her mom gave her a questioning look.
“We’re just going to hang out at the mall...Um, going up now…”
“Maia... Since it’s your birthday tomorrow, do you want to go shopping today? You can pick out whatever you want. Maybe the camera you were looking at the other day?”
She tried not to be too excited. The memory of the “kiss” still made her cringe. “Just working on something, Mom. Maybe let’s just go shopping for my birthday after dinner tomorrow..?” She noticed the shadows under her mom’s eyes.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“Yeah… No… I have not been sleeping well lately…”
Does this other guy have anything to do with it?
She ignored the voice in her head. “Do you need to talk, Mom?”
“No, I’m okay baby girl… It’s okay. Go up to your room and catch some more sleep… You’re on vacation… You can sleep in if you want to, you know.”
