Essence

by Mandi Lynn

  She steps forward, also looking at the floral pink the stone now seems to take. “The color of your soul depends on your personality. Your color, for example, is purple—which stands for things like nobility, transformation, enlightenment, and mourning. Things like that.”

  “What’s pink?” I ask, seeing the color glow with prominence before my eyes.

  “That’s a mix between red and white. Red is energy, desire, and violence; all things that are intense. White is the opposite; meaning forgiveness, cleanliness, birth, innocence, and peace. So that means pink is things like excitement, love, and joy. Basically what every little girl is like,” she says, smiling.

  “How long before she wakes up?”

  “Everyone’s different. Hours, days. We don’t know,” Eliza informs me, looking at Kenzie as her body lies limp and helpless, transforming and changing, as her human body is left abandoned without a soul to occupy it. All we can do is wait.

  “How did she get past everyone?” I ask, looking around at half-asleep faces—some still dozing even with all the commotion. Most are gathered around us, looking at the scene unfolding before them.

  The boy starts to yell in my face, stepping closer to me, and I find myself reaching my limit of tolerance. “We were all asleep! We didn’t think you were going to have a friend follow you home!”

  “Who are you to yell at me?” I say, standing up to show I am not only taller than him but obviously older by many years. “I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault she followed me here.” I don’t want to fight with him, but I need to defend myself. If this is someone I will live with for eternity, then I’m not going to be the underdog in the situation.

  “That would be Tyler.” A woman starts to walk toward me, pushing Tyler to the side. “The number one cause of fights here at Phantom Lagoon. You can only guess why.”

  My eyes must have been full of questions because she laughs. “My name is Aida de Luna; but you may call me Luna.”

  She looks in her twenties and from a different century. She wears a dress that is old and exhausted—it’s magnificent though. A ballroom gown. The colors that had once been bright greens and oranges are now musty browns. The dress has a deep square neckline and is wilting, worn down by use. She has long golden-blond hair that is tied up away from her face. It’s composed of curls and ringlets that had once looked ready for a special occasion but now fall to the side. Her face is glowingly clear and pale—luminescent in the sunlight. She’s beautiful. Out of everyone here at Phantom Lagoon, she looks like she’s been here the longest.

  But the most stunning thing is her eye color—white. Her iris isn’t the natural blue, green, or brown, but a very pale gray, almost gleaming. I find myself mesmerized by the simple color opposed to the different stripes and patterns seen in a normal iris.

  “We may be waiting for Miss Mackenzie longer then you think. Can you tell me what happened?” She has a strange mixed accent. It’s subtle though—French maybe—but I’m guessing she can speak more than one language. Luna carries a presence with her that makes you listen and cooperate, but her smile is of someone loving and gentle.

  “I was watching her family yesterday. They were camping.” I say almost to myself. It feels like I’m looking at someone straight from the history books.

  “Your power is to appear to humans, correct?” Luna asks. Her smile is welcoming. I know she is just trying to sort things out, but I can’t help but search her features. She looks so young, but she’s dressed as if she was very high in society—maybe not now, but when she was born. I remember what I had learned in history class, trying to place her time frame. When settlers first came to America, we were poverty-stricken, trying hard to stay alive. Later on when we gained independence, we had also gained riches, but not the kind she wears. Luna’s clothes are very detailed with stitching and different lace around her bodice. Even the highest in society didn’t have clothing this extravagant. The one place I had seen someone dress this way in history was somewhere in Europe. That’s where the greatest artists and composers were always found—during the Renaissance; of course they would have only the best clothing during that period of time.

  “Is that your power?” she asks again, trying to gain my attention.

  “Yes, I can be seen by humans, but they can’t touch me,” I say.

  “Did you make sure you were out of their sight?” she asks kindly, though I could hear the seriousness of the situation in her voice.

  “I hid behind a bush, so they wouldn’t see me. Once it was dark, it got hard to breathe, and it felt like I was being crushed. When that happened, I screamed, and Kenzie looked at me. Her parents heard me, but they didn’t see me.”

  “You were able to get back in time?”

  Luna sounds amazed, not angry. I braced myself for a scolding, feeling the immediate authority she held, but it never came.

  “Are you kidding me?” Tyler yells out, his voice booming over our hushed conversation, as more people woke up groggy and ignorant as to what is going on. Everyone’s gaze is on Tyler, confused as to the reasoning behind the yelling. He points to me and shouts, “She came barging through those trees laughing!”

  “I don’t know why I was laughing,” I whimper. “It felt like a rush…” I shiver, remembering the pounding of my heart; not sure if I could make it back in time and also the feeling of absolute freedom, nothing holding me back.

  “Well, Emma, I suggest you stay here until she wakes up.” Luna walks toward the cave, as if she is about to enter, but instead skims her hand along it, turning into the forest where she disappears out of sight.

  “Why haven’t I seen her before?” I ask Eliza.

  “Luna doesn’t come out much. She acts as our support system. She’s been here the longest. Not much surprises her. When you told her what you did yesterday, she seemed pretty amazed. I guess that’s never happened before.”

  I turn my attention back to Kenzie; she looks like she is sleeping, but her stone is turning a more pronounced pink as time passes.

  “What are we going to do now?” I ask, staring at Kenzie, hoping she would magically wake up and be alive. No—more than alive; I wish her all the happiness in the world, but I’m the one who has taken it away from her.

  “What do you mean we?” Tyler says, crossing his arms in front of him. “You caused the mess. You fix it.”

  Everyone has left the scene by now, returning to their normal day-to-day lives, no longer caring about gathering around until Kenzie opens her eyes—all except for Eliza.

  “We wait,” she says, shrugging and sitting on the ground next to Kenzie.

  “And her parents?”

  “Probably looking for her. They will think she got lost and call the police. We can do the same as we did for you—show them the body. They will think she tripped or something. It will be hard for them, but life goes on for humans.”

  I start to picture Kenzie’s family from yesterday. “They were so perfect, their little family, so happy and carefree. Then I ruined it all.”

  “It doesn’t help anyone when you think like that,” Eliza says. “Right now everybody’s hate for you hasn’t seemed to increase even though Kenzie followed you here—so call yourself lucky.” There is some hidden malice in her voice that she isn’t willing to display fully. I feel a wall between the two of us as some unknown anger brims inside her.

  “I’m sorry, Eliza. I was stupid for letting Kenzie see me, for letting her get this far into Phantom Lagoon. I’m truly sorry—for everything.” The words seem fake—a usual form of apology—nothing sincere about it. But I mean every word I say, needing to have Eliza in this journey I’m forced to call my life.

  “It’s okay, Emma,” she says, letting out a big sigh. “It’s just…I wish they had been this accepting for my father. Although they’re probably only letting you stay near Kenzie because they don’t want to deal with her parents. This is the youngest person to come here. Nobody wants to see the parents’ reaction when they realize their ch
ild is dead.”

  Chapter 17

  Angels

  Kenzie wakes up and starts to scream. Her face turns a fiery red with the effort it takes to expel all that noise. Her call is piercing and loud. I’m afraid that her parents might hear and come looking for her; that they will come to Phantom Lagoon and fall under the spell too. Kenzie turns to me and a look that can only be identified as anger crosses her face.

  With one last scream she runs at me with a vengeance.

  _________________

  I bolt up off the ground, bracing for impact. Nothing comes. I look down and see Kenzie still in her state of coma; her face revealing no sign of emotion as she lies across the rock. It was just a dream. I didn’t even know I had fallen asleep.

  Eliza looks at me, confused. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “Nothing.”

  Eliza turns her attention back to Kenzie. She must have been awake the entire time, always watching to make sure she is there when Kenzie opens her eyes for the first time to see this new world into which she was brought.

  A small smile starts to slip through Eliza’s lips.

  “What?” I ask.

  She points to Kenzie as she whispers, so as not to startle her. “I’ve always wanted a little sister.”

  Kenzie’s big brown eyes open to look at the new world around her; first confusion, then happiness as she sees me—a familiar face. I can’t help but smile back, as Kenzie gets up to hug me. As she stands, her body is left behind. I thought I was seeing double—that maybe I might be sick—but then I see Kenzie’s former body slowly fade away as the Essence is left behind in its wake.

  “Don’t worry,” Eliza whispers to me, seeing the shock on my face as Kenzie continues to embrace me. “That’s normal. The Essence has to leave the body. The owner of the body can’t see it. It doesn’t want to identify the body as itself.”

  It doesn’t want to. I can name off thousands of reasons why. Her body disappears to its temporary residence of the cave. Soon it will be moved again to a location where Kenzie’s parents can find it to stop the search, just like I had done for my family.

  “Hi!” Kenzie says with bright greeting eyes, wrapping her arms around my waist. I hug her back lightly, but I struggle to find words, to explain.

  Eliza steps in for me. “Hi, Kenzie. I’m Eliza, and this is Emma,” she says with a light laugh, pointing toward me. “We are going to take care of you now, okay?”

  “What about Mommy and Daddy?” she asks, pulling away from me and directing her attention to Eliza.

  Eliza takes a moment to think about the question before answering Kenzie. She looks around for help herself, but everyone is either gone or watching us emotionlessly.

  “How about I tell you a story?” Eliza opts.

  Kenzie’s eyes lit up at the word. “Okay!”

  Eliza holds out her hand, and Kenzie takes it quickly, following her to the same large rock that Eliza and I had been sitting on the night she had told me about her father. Eliza picks up Kenzie and puts her on the highest point of the rock. I sit next to her, watching her face carefully, while Eliza stands in front of us, so she can make direct eye contact.

  “Do you know that you are very special, Kenzie?” Eliza asks.

  Kenzie gets excited and starts clapping her hands. “Mommy says that all the time. She says I’m very, very special. I’m Mommy’s little girl, but I’m a big girl!”

  I put my arm around Kenzie and try to say something to her—she is special; she is still Mommy’s little girl; what she is about to find out is my fault. But with a dry throat I can’t get the words to form.

  Eliza smiles and tucks some of Kenzie’s blond curls behind her ear. “You are very special, Kenzie. You get to do things others don’t.” She is a good actor; she makes this seem like a good thing. “Your Mommy and Daddy were very nice. They gave you to us. It was their choice. This is good for you. You get to live with us now.”

  Kenzie’s face falls the slightest bit, but she’s still full of enthusiasm. “What about Mommy and Daddy? Do they get to live here too?” she asks, looking around for them. Her little hand pushes me away the slightest bit to improve her line of sight as she gazes past me.

  “No, Kenzie. Mommy and Daddy can’t see you anymore. Do you want to know why?” Eliza asks, making sure she understands.

  Kenzie keeps watching the lagoon, but when she finds nothing, she looks down at her hands, now placed limp in her lap. Eliza waits for her to answer, but when she doesn’t, she continues.

  “You’re an angel now. You get to live forever. You don’t have wings yet, but you will. One day you get to fly up to Heaven, and be with your Mommy and Daddy again.”

  “I want Mommy and Daddy now!” Kenzie starts to cry tearless sobs, her face full of agony. She looks down toward the ground, seeing how far of a jump it may be, wanting to run back to her parents. To a regular person this looks like a normal fit a three-year-old would have, but her cries hold true emotion—too young to understand the full extent of being an Essence, but she knows enough that it means good-bye to her parents.

  I hug her, whispering in her ear. “I know, Kenzie. We all do. You know what? When you get to see them, you’ll feel so happy that nothing will matter.” I take a deep breath, dealing with my own loss that comes with leaving my human life behind. “Nothing will matter…” I linger on the words.

  Eliza joins in our group hug, as we let Kenzie cry herself into her new life. I caused the cries that erupt from the little girl next to me, and I wish I had been more careful that day I had seen her parents in the campground. After a few minutes Kenzie looks up at the two of us with sad eyes. “Are you my guardian angel?” she asks. “Mommy said there is always a guardian angel looking over everyone.” Kenzie looks at me with glossy eyes.

  I release a small laugh as I pull a strand of hair out of my face. “I’m more of a big sister. I look after you, but I make mistakes.”

  “You too? Are you my big sister too?” Kenzie asks, looking toward Eliza.

  She just nods, not trusting her voice, but a smile crosses her face. She wants this. Eliza has always been an only child, and when Kenzie came into Phantom Lagoon, I could spot that small sort of happiness in Eliza as the idea of having a little sister posed in her mind.

  “I want Mommy,” Kenzie says, clutching her hands around Eliza’s neck. She buries her face in Eliza’s shoulder, and I watch as her small body heaves with cries. Kenzie wants her family, and I would do anything to bring them to her, fully alive, but it’s an impossible task.

  Chapter 18

  Reality

  “Emma, where have you been? I’ve haven’t seen you in days!” my mom says as I step into the house. She approaches like she’s going to hug me but, remembering what happened last time, stops. She looks me over like she hasn’t talked to me in years. “Oh, honey, it’s been so hard. Your father is so upset, and your grandparents are trying to make sense of it. Your funeral is this Sunday. Are you planning on coming?”

  I think of what it may be like to see everyone I know mourn my death. People lined up in a church somewhere, looking to each other for support.

  “I’m not sure.” I stumble around, thinking about it. “They might see me.” We walk through our house—no, my parents’ house—I don’t live here anymore.

  My mom sees my hesitance. “It’s okay, Emma. You don’t have to go. I was just making sure that you knew, so you could if you wanted to.”

  Attending your own funeral is almost like an unspoken dream. People always imagine it, even though it’s something that’s supposed to be impossible; and here I am, turning it down.

  I stare at the floral wallpaper in our vintage-style dining room while I weigh what I’m about to ask. “Can you make sure of one thing?”

  “Of course, anything,” my mom agrees.

  I look down at the floor for a second before looking straight into my mom’s eyes, to show how important this is to me. “I don’t want people to act like I’m gone forever.
I’m here, and I’m staying. They don’t need to know the truth. Just make it known that, even if I’m not alive, I’m not gone. This isn’t going to be some sob story about a teenager who died in the forest. It’s going to be a story about a girl who lived her life to the fullest.

  “But things happen. Everything went wrong, and I fell. But life goes on, and we learn to live with what we have, not what we wish we had. That’s how I want people to remember me. I also want you to display my drawings, because they are a part of me that nobody got to experience—a part of me that people should have seen, but I didn’t let them.”

  My mom’s silent for a moment, her eyes glossing over with the slightest bit of tears. “Oh, Emma, yes. I’ll do exactly that.” She walks toward me again—wanting to hug—but sits down at a nearby chair.

  Oddly this is important to me: how I’m remembered. I don’t want my family to be treated differently, because they lost a daughter. I want them to be able to forget about the bad times and remember the good. I don’t want people to come up to them every day saying they are sorry for their loss. Because it isn’t a loss; just a little piece of their haven had broken off. People can patch things; it still may hurt, but that’s life.

  Reality is knowing that you will get hurt. That there’s no stopping it, but you still try. Even after you’re hurt, you first want to suffer through it, for some reason thinking the afflictions will help. You find out later that the remedy is time. Time supposedly heals everything. How can you know though? Is it when you forget or when it doesn’t hurt to think about it anymore?

  My mom went through this, and I could tell time wasn’t going to be a factor of healing for her. She wasn’t willing to let go, so I had to save her. I told her my secret, and in doing that, it brought on the reality of what really happened. It also brought the sense of joy that my mom could still see me. Not nearly as much as she would like, but I’m still here. I can keep her safe.