The Song_A mysterious tale of the Mayan spirit world and the Mayan calendar

by Joseph Arnold

  Detective Holden was scribbling notes. He looked up at Sarina and somehow knew that she was being completely honest. It was a hunch he had and his hunches were usually correct.

  He went on. “Where did she work?”

  “Huh?” Sarina was reflecting on her last answer and was lost in her own thoughts. “Oh. She was working doing research for the government. I didn’t exactly follow what she was saying but it involved paranormal work. She worked for S.E.T.I. and believed that greater beings exist in the universe. We did have that in common.” Sarina chuckled.

  “You mean the Search For Extraterrestrial Intelligence Institute?"

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Did she mention your mother?”

  “We did chat about her. We both felt disconnected from her as neither of us had seen her or heard from her in a long time.”

  “Sarina, I’m sure this is hard for you. I can see the burden of responsibility on you as you try to carry all of this. I’ll need to talk more with you so that I can put this puzzle together, but that’s enough for now. I want you to go home and rest. Here’s my card, and I have your number. Please call me if you think of any more information. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call you in the next few days.”

  “Thank you for your concerns, Detective.” Sarina got up and felt a surge of compassion for Detective Holden and wondered if he read it on her face. She shook his hand, but what she really wanted to do was to give him a hug and thank him for hearing her. Detective Holden seemed to touch the very core of her being as she shook his hand. Sarina felt a faint electrical pulse when they touched. The detective felt the same electric pulse. It was the one he had felt when he touched Ann. He pulled his hand away and took a step back.

  “Uh, thank you, Sarina.”

  “What’s wrong detective?” she asked. Sarina wondered if he had felt the same electrical pulse.

  “Oh, uh … nothing. Again, thanks.” He walked her to the front office.

  Sarina wanted to know more about this electric pulse or shock she felt but she held back. Sarina had experienced something like this with someone before but was interested in what the detective experienced. She intuitively knew he had felt it before.

  The last question Sarina needed to ask as she was leaving involved claiming the remains of her sister. Detective Holden and Sarina walked back into the coroner’s office and were informed that because Ann was unmarried, the law considered her parents her next of kin. And unless Sarina could prove that both her parents were deceased, a living parent was required to sign for the removal of the body.

  Sarina now needed to contact her mother or father. Her father was nowhere to be found and the journey to reconnect with her mother seemed challenging to say the least. Sarina needed to look deep inside herself to gather the courage to seek out her mother. The first step would be figuring out where to start.

  “Can I help you find your mother?” Detective Holden sensed her despair. “I am a detective, after all.” A slight smile emerged on Detective Holden’s face.

  “No, but thanks for the offer.” Sarina knew she must make this journey on her own and managed a slight smile back.

  A voice shouted out Detective Holden’s name. He turned toward the voice and motioned to him and then turned back to Sarina and said. “See you again, Sarina.”

  Sarina walked out the door and Detective Holden walked over to the man who called out his name.

  “Holden, this just came in. A car was parked over night at 9th and Irving in a “No Overnight Parking” spot and was towed to the impound yard. The registered owner is named Ann Conti. Isn’t that the homicide case you’re on?”

  “Yes, it is. What kind of car?”

  “A 2012 Audi A-4 T. Midnight blue.” The officer handed Detective Holden the paper work.

  The detective made the short walk to the impound yard and signed in at the desk. The detective walked around the car and lifted some prints from the driver side door handle. He asked the attending officer to unlock the door.

  “No need, detective. It was unlocked when we towed it in.”

  “Really? That seems odd. An expensive car in the city, not locked?”

  “That’s what I thought. Oh and, no keys anywhere in sight”

  Detective Holden put on his pair of latex gloves, opened the door, and searched the interior. Nothing out of the ordinary except for a torn piece of paper on the passenger side floor. There were a few words on the top of the page. They read “Ancient Mayan Calendar Translations by …” the remainder of the top had been ripped off. He put it in a clear zippered bag then slid it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

  Detective Holden returned to the precinct and ran the prints he had lifted from the driver’s side door handle and from the steering wheel.

  “Here you go detective,” an officer said as he handed detective Holden the print report.

  “Thanks.” The detective saw the finger print comparison to Ann’s and they indeed matched. Nothing unusual there as the registration showed the car belonged to Ann Conti.

  The detective removed the bag from his jacket pocket and puzzled over the title. This was such an insignificant piece of torn document and certainly might have fit in with the clutter found in most people’s cars. Funny, though, Ann’s car was as clean as a car in a showroom so he held into it…

  Chapter - Three

  Sarina left the morgue and headed for the bus stop and then decided against taking the bus. This had been a gut-wrenching morning and she was lost in her thoughts. The day was dark and thick with rain clouds and a mist was forming as she walked. Fortunately the walk was second nature for Sarina, and she turned down streets as if she were being gently helped by spirit guides. She left the Taraval police precinct across from McCoppin Park and walked along 24th Avenue toward Lincoln Way. She turned right on Noriega Street and walked ahead to 17th Avenue, turned left, and walked to Irving Street.

  She turned right again and stopped when she passed the Academy of Music on Irving Street and heard amazing Native American Flute music drifting out of the Academy’s gift shop calling to lovers to remember their connections, calling to daughters and sons to remember their parents, calling to friends to remember their communities, calling to all peoples to remember their purpose.

  The music was swirling around for anyone willing to listen. Sarina offered a good morning gesture to the owner as she came through the door and drifted the aisles accompanied by the haunting melodies of her favorite flute music. Time passed slowly in this place, which was just as well. Sarina had every reason to avoid stepping back into her new world of chaos and uncertainty. She felt calm and centered here. Now was the time to recharge, the time to recapture energy spent and to let the events of the past 24 hours melt away. She walked slowly up and down the aisles of the music shop and looked at all the various instruments and trinkets from local and faraway places. She felt a sensation of renewed energy flow back into her being, as if she had just awakened from a long and needed nap. She bid the owner farewell as she drifted back out onto the street.

  Sarina walked on to 9th Avenue and turned left. Usually crowded with shoppers from every walk of life, 9th Avenue was filled with small retail stores. The Misdirections Magic Shop was the most interesting with its mystical wares from around the globe. Here were shelves full of items from Eastern Europe. One corner was exclusively for oddities from the Middle East, and another filled with treasures from the far reaches of Asia. Another aisle beckoned with unusual artifacts and huge frightening looking masks from Africa. Sarina walked through a beaded glass opening into a room showcasing a large variety of aboriginal artifacts from all types of native cultures in Central and South America as well as from North America. She was wandering the shop thinking that she must finish this business with her sister’s death before she left for Guatemala. She walked out into the street once again.

  As she walked on, the song of distant drumming followed her adding depth to the misty air outside. The song seemed somehow t
o belong to Sarina alone. It felt like her song and she stopped to listen before the notes vanished away. The call was intentional and soothing. Sarina was so calm that when the stranger approached her, she felt no fear, only a warm sensation of love. Although she had not moved, the music faded away as the stranger walked out of the mist. He approached Sarina and offered a slight bow.

  “Hello, my name is Dana,” he said with a warm smile on his face.

  Sarina began to introduce herself but Dana waved his hand in the air.

  “I know who you are, Sarina, and I am glad you followed your song, which led you to me.” In any other circumstances, Sarina might have run or cried out for help but this felt secure and safe. She sensed no threat of danger so Sarina simply stood and listened. “Walk with me, please.”

  Sarina and this strange man named Dana walked together.

  “I know of the demise of your sister and your dilemma of finding your mother. I also know of Detective Riley Holden who is on his own path to help you. You must trust him no matter what. You can also trust me as I will be with you throughout this journey.” With that he offered her a card with a phone number. “I will wait for you to call me.”

  As he stepped back into the mist, the sound of the drum music rematerialized and brought Sarina back into her familiar surroundings as she turned toward the direction of the song.

  Sarina turned back to ask Dana a question. “Who are you—” but either he had disappeared or the mist had swallowed him whole. Sarina looked around for Dana, but only the amorphous crowd remained in the street. She walked home to Lincoln Way and 3rd Avenue.

  When Sarina opened the door to her apartment she stopped, frozen in her steps. The encounter with the strange man named DANA and his reference to Detective Holden, RILEY Holden. Two more names from her dream, Dana and Riley!

  Sarina ran to her bedside and found her notes on her nightstand and scribbled more information about her meeting with Dana and his reference to Riley and how she must trust them both. When she finished writing, she clutched the notebook to her heart, wondering what was unfolding and why this was happening to her. She thought of her sister again and the tears flowed without resistance. She collapsed onto her bed and called on all of her strength to settle herself down. Grief was a challenge for Sarina and she might find time later to allow it to pass through her, but now time was precious. Sarina was always a woman who took on many tasks simultaneously, which rarely left her much personal time so she tried to control her feelings. The lack of emotional nurturing she had received at home had taught Sarina to suppress her feelings, and even with all of her exploration of feelings and with all of her personal therapy work, she easily fell back into old patterns, especially when under stress. She had experienced so much loss in her life. Her father had left when she was a child. Her marriage ended. She lost a partner named Joe only a few years back and now her sister. Even her hardest journey to the most distant lands of the world was nothing compared to the precipice of grief on which she now found herself. If only she were able to let go and allow the feelings to run their course, take the leap and immerse herself in the grief that was before her. Her mother had taught her to accept that “that is life and we go on.” Shit, this was life alright but it was so damn hard to go on. And yet Mona had taught her how to be in control all the time and Sarina was good at it.

  Sarina made a late breakfast and sat in her kitchen nook, sipped her tea, and ate as she recounted the morning. After a fitful night’s sleep that included the dream, Ann’s murder, and the absurdity of the mystery around her death, Sarina was grateful for the comfort of her beautiful apartment, which surrounded her in warmth. My life was so simple yesterday and now this. My sister was murdered and left on the steps of a Catholic Church and now, when I least wanted it, I have this detective in my life, she thought.

  Sarina had moved to San Francisco after her years of transformation in North Carolina. It felt good to be back on the West Coast and in the only city setting that she truly loved.

  Sarina was generally drawn to quieter settings in rural areas with lots of open spaces. She often enjoyed long walks through treed forests with streams teaming with birds and other wildlife. She was surprised to find herself attracted to San Francisco, a large city with throngs of people everywhere. Sarina believed it was her strong need for community that had led her to live in The City, as the locals called it.

  And no place in The City left her more at ease than in this apartment. She had found it after following a story lead for an article she had been writing. The article was spiritual in nature and her research took her to the Inner Sunset district and onto Lincoln Way. She wove her way through alleys and, now paved over, cobbled streets between the buildings, searching for an address of an old woman or man named Pat who had some information about medicine men and women from the ancient redwood forests north of the city.

  As she walked and looked for the address, Sarina fell into a reverie about the mysticism of these ancient tribes and the messages for humanity in their myths and tales. What Sarina really wanted was an opportunity to live, if even for a brief moment, in those ancient times. She believed her yearning was a result of past lives when she had been a medicine woman in a now long extinct culture when knowledge was steeped in magic and ritual. Sarina believed that contemporary science was substituting technology for intuition or inner knowing and was eroding what she defined as a dying culture, our contemporary culture that had jettisoned ritual and that was now faced with so many problems that the very technology many believed might solve these problems had actually been creating them. Sarina was on a one woman quest to bring the old ways of ritual back to humanity’s doorstep.

  The sudden howling of a dog snapped Sarina back into the present moment. She looked around for the address a little while longer, but she never found the old man or woman with the information she had sought. Just as she was about to give up the search, Sarina decided to check down a small alley between two rows of apartment buildings. She spotted a door with a sign pinned on it that read “The perfect apartment is waiting for you. Simply turn around, look across the alley and up, and fall in love.” Sarina read the note again and stood motionless and closed her eyes, as if in deep meditation. She was used to unusual situations like this in her travels around the world when she sat in ancient ruins. She had found various artifacts that she had believed had been left for her to find by someone she might never meet. But here, in the heart of a modern city, it seemed unusual; nevertheless she allowed herself to be surprised and not fight what was, obviously to Sarina, deposited for her to find. The sign had no phone number, but when Sarina turned and looked up she noticed something unusual. The old brick wall had been painted white, again and again over the decades. The windows were trimmed in white paint as well and seemed to be hiding some long ago story. Then her eyes met the one window trimmed in purple, her favorite color, which stood out as a beacon to her. That’s got to be the one, she thought.

  Without hesitation, she raced across the alley, opened the nearest door, and ran up the stairs, which happened to be a separate stair entrance to the apartment with the purple-trimmed windows. All the other apartments were accessed from a main entrance that fronted out on the street. Sarina approached the apartment door and an envelope slid out under the door from inside. The envelope contained a key and a note. The note read “Come back tomorrow and let yourself in. This apartment has been waiting for you.”

  Sarina grabbed the note and looked at the apartment door and laughed a nervous laugh. She had never personally had this type of experience before so she was a bit apprehensive. This very thing did happen to a person she had met in Australia named Janise a long time ago. Janise was looking for a place to live in Sydney. She was walking home from her job at a newspaper and simply felt a desire to stop at a coffee kiosk. Janise was the only customer, which seemed strange to her given the fact that it was early evening and people were walking past the kiosk without even a glance in her direction. On the counter was
an envelope with her name on it. Janise asked the attendant of the kiosk if he knew anything about it. The attendant said an old woman had laid it on the counter a moment before she arrived. Janise opened the envelope and a key was inside with a street address and an apartment number. Because she was very intuitive and understood spiritual and paranormal matters, Janise readily accepted what almost anyone else would have considered a wholly bizarre occurrence. But however in tune she was with things supernatural, she was also acutely grounded in the “natural.” To that end, Janise called the scariest guy she knew who was about 6ʹ 6ʺ tall and 230 pounds. When the two arrived at the apartment, she let her friend open the door. The apartment was beautifully laid out and was just what she was looking for. On a table next to the door was a sheet of information pertaining to details of how to manage her new space with phone numbers and contacts of various people for repairs and other emergencies. Whoever had set Janise up in that apartment had known she was important for some future event.

  Many years later while Janise was still living in and enjoying the apartment, a story she was working on had led her to discover a sacred shrine that was to be bulldozed to make room for a high-rise office center. Her knowledge and coverage of the story spared the shrine and it stands to this day in an honored location. The day after the story had made the paper, a note was left on the doorstep of her apartment that read “Thank you. This is why you are here.”

  So based on what had happened to Sarina’s Australian friend, Janise, and upon other her own experiences, Sarina knew that finding this apartment was no accident. So she returned the next day full of anticipation and let herself in. Sarina had learned that trusting others always made them trustworthy; she made a conscious decision that is counter-intuitive for most people. With that trust in her heart, Sarina felt like a school girl on a first date: She had not known what to expect because she had never experienced anything like this before in this city, but she was filled with anticipation. Sarina actually had wanted something like this to happen for as long as she remembered and it all seemed perfect and quite wonderful. The apartment was empty of furniture but filled with tapestries and fabrics of every color imaginable. Sarina approached the experience with a bit of caution and was careful not to let her guard down. Artifacts from various cultures had been placed on shelves and in corners of the rooms. The apartment appeared more like a miniature museum and less like a one bedroom rental. Sarina immediately fell in love with her surroundings. Once she explored the apartment and was satisfied it was safe, she was able to let her guard down and settle into the energy of the place. She used her intuitive abilities to completely absorb the energy. Absorbing energy was a gift of hers that she had learned by studying other intuitives.