by Mandi Lynn
“I would want to know,” she says, rubbing her arms for warmth out of a long-ago human habit. She looks at the berries on the ground. “I think we did wrong by lying in the first place.” Our lie could only hold its place for so long, but like the berries on the bush, it fell.
She starts to walk again, but I stay in my place. “But if you could never see your parents again at the age of three, would you rather have the truth or the hope that you are something better in the world?”
Eliza shakes her head and continues to walk. “Better in the world,” she mutters. “Emma, hope is an amazing thing, but it’s not made to blind people. That’s what we did to Kenzie, and if we don’t find her soon, we’ll never see her again.” Eliza grows quiet and stops to finger her stone necklace before taking a deep, almost relieved breath.
“Do you think we will find her?” I ask.
Eliza looks at me, dumbfounded. “Only if she wants to be found,” she finally says in a nervous voice, staring up at the setting sky.
We continue forward, never looking back, as we venture farther to find Kenzie in the small amount of time we were given. In front of me Eliza walks, always clutching her stone, as if it may disappear if it’s not in her grip.
“There isn’t much time before we have to turn back,” Eliza says, her stare fixated on the sky, asking for more hours in the day.
I look around myself, seeing the forest grow orange with the sun’s passing. “Kenzie, please come back,” I whisper to myself.
Eliza turns to me, and I can see something is wrong. Her face is scared. All of a sudden everything about her demeanor has changed; the calm shell is gone, and she looks close to falling over. Taking her stone, she closes her eyes and kneels to the ground, breaths coming fast.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers over and over. I can see her body shake as she says the words. She slumps closer to the soil of the ground.
I kneel beside her and take her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” I say with a shaky voice, even though I know it’s not true.
“No, it’s not.” Eliza speaks louder and sits up to look me in the eyes. “It’s not, Emma. How could we lie to her? How could we let her run away and not do anything? We let her leave.” Her eyes plead with me, but then all at once, she gives up the fight.
“I know.” I feel the fear of losing Kenzie build up inside me and try to push it away. “Once she feels the pain, she’ll come back,” I say, hating the words.
Anger flashes in Eliza’s eyes, suddenly growing protective. “What if I don’t want her to feel that pain? She doesn’t even know her way back,” Eliza says, rubbing her stone that lies across her neck. Her face has grown flush red, making her green eyes glow with the contrasting color. The emotion in her flops around, and I can tell she is torn; she wants to save Kenzie, but she’s scared.
Eliza looks at the sky that grows darker by the second.
“I’m going back,” Eliza says suddenly, as if something occurred to her. “There’s nothing else we can do, and if we stay, we’ll just hurt ourselves too.”
Eliza gets up and brushes herself off, arms shaking slightly. Her eyes follow the sun’s path in the sky, and I can see the fear in her face as she thinks about the amount of time she has to get back to Phantom Lagoon. Finally she looks at me. “I can’t face the unknown, Emma. If staying meant being with Kenzie and my father, I would, but I’m afraid,” she says, turning toward the direction of the lagoon. Her throat grows tight, making her speech slurred. “I will understand if you didn’t come back.”
She begins to walk away, always glancing up at the sky.
“Do you mean suicide?” I ask, still kneeling on the ground.
She looks over her shoulder, back to me, saying nothing. Turning forward again, she grabs something out of her pocket and tosses it in front of me. All at once she runs away and doesn’t look back. An echo of a sob is heard, but it’s so quiet, I can’t be sure if the sound is actually there.
I reach out, across the enriched soil of the forest, for what Eliza gave to me. It’s a piece of paper, folded five times, the edges worn from being read and refolded.
1993 - I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t try to get better. But what I’m not sorry for is coming to Phantom Lagoon. You yelled at me and screamed, and I saw you cry for the first time; except there were no tears because of who we are. I’m sorry my fear brought me here.
2001 - Today you disappeared. Remember how you told me we always have to come back at night? You stayed with Mom after her car crashed and forgot me.
Mom died yesterday. Were you still there when it happened?
2004 - Is it wrong to think about killing myself? Is it even possible? How did you end your life?
2007 - I stayed out after dark today. I never knew your stone could fully disappear. I’ve seen it become translucent, but when it was gone, I knew something was wrong.
2008 - The pain from staying out in the dark is unbearable. I want to be with you, but it hurts. I’m so sorry.
I can’t do this anymore. Will you save me?
2010 - There’s a little girl named Kenzie who came to Phantom Lagoon. She followed Emma, so we’ve been taking care of her like we’re all sisters—I guess we are family.
2034 - Kenzie left.
Chapter 27
Healing
“Kenzie!” As I shout, I can hear myself slowly growing quiet. I feel the lack of air in my throat threatening to stop sound completely. I keep searching after Eliza leaves, but there’s no sign of Kenzie. “Please!” My voice cracks, and I lean on my knees for support as I cough.
“I’m sorry! You need to come back, Kenzie!”
I fall to my knees and listen to the leaves drift in the wind. The ghost sobs well up in my throat, before it finally releases itself. I break down and hold my ribs as a stabbing pain comes from within me. Above me the sky glows with a beautiful sunset.
When I look in front of me, I see a flickering coming from the ground. I clutch the stone at my neck, feeling it grow soft as it leaves me for Phantom Lagoon. I approach the glowing earth to find a pink stone.
She’s left her soul.
“Kenzie,” I mumble her name.
I take my stone from around my neck and place it next to hers. It’s a bright pink, flickering as if calling her. Our stones fade together. My purple turns more translucent and even though I feel the stabbing pain, I don’t react. Kenzie’s pink stone radiates bright again—like a Christmas light before darkening—and then it disappears.
I feel her leave with it.
A piercing scream emerges somewhere in front of me. Instantly, I jump up and run in its direction, knowing exactly whose scream it is.
“Kenzie!”
Branches fly past my face; a bird scatters off its perch in a tree, as I come in a frantic whirl of motion. I freeze in the middle of the forest, using all my will to hear her voice in reply.
“Mackenzie!” My voice is raw.
“Emma.” There is a quiet crying sound off in the distance. My feet carry me to her where she lies on the ground in a fetal position. “What’s happening?” she mumbles, barely audible as her arms shake.
“We need to get back to Phantom Lagoon,” I say, looking at the sky. The sun is going down as the sky turns from orange to purple—I can see half the sun, hidden by the horizon.
“I can’t.” She begins to cough.
I step forward, kneeling down to her, feeling every muscle in my body beg to just be still. I cradle her in my arms, watching the child grow pale. “It’s going to be okay.”
I try to walk as fast as I can, but after a few steps I fall to the ground with Kenzie in my arms. There’s a scream, but I can’t tell which one of us it is—maybe both. When I look over at Kenzie, I see tears in her eyes.
“How?” I ask, but Kenzie breaks into a cry and arches her back in severe pain. Her entire body is red and flushed, but when I look at my arms, I’m normal.
“Make it stop!” she screams
, but I can’t. I look at her eyes that were once brown but are now rimed in crimson. She makes another shrill scream, before the convulsions begin. Her body shakes, and I don’t know what to do. I’m watching my dad have a seizure all over again; except this time, it’s Kenzie’s life on the line.
Her mouth is open, searching for breath but not able to find any.
“No,” I whisper, feeling a stabbing pain down my spine. My arms threaten to drop Kenzie, but instead, I hold her closer, promising myself I won’t let her disappear. “I’m supposed to save you,” I whisper, but it’s no more than a faint sound in the wind. And even though I can feel every muscle burn as I carry Kenzie, I continue forward.
In my arms Kenzie takes a gasping breath of air, and even though I want to stop and see if she’s okay, I start into a run. As I do, I can feel tears run down my face like they had for Kenzie. I run faster, knowing that the tears mean more pain is coming.
When we come to a more familiar forest, a flash of pain comes to the surface. It feels as if a knife is going straight down my spine, only stopping if I let out the familiar scream of death. I fall to the ground on my knees but manage to keep Kenzie in my arms. We are so close to safety, yet it’s far beyond our reach.
Get up! If you fall, we all fall!
I hear it out loud, my voice. I didn’t speak it.
Now! Once you hit that ground, you will never get back up!
I’ve heard this voice before; even as a human, in my dreams. My soul—my other half that’s always been protecting me.
I find my strength and hang onto Kenzie in my arms. She’s quiet, and I don’t have time to look at her, so I tell myself that she’s okay, even if it’s a lie, and move forward.
The sky turns from purple to a dark blue. I wonder how I’m alive until I see it—Phantom Lagoon. As I break through the trees, I realize I had been holding my breath since I first saw the fence of trees. I kneel down and release Kenzie, letting her body roll out from my hands. When I try to stand again, any last remains of energy leave, and I fall to my side instead.
There’s a small silence, and then a brush of air as everyone from Phantom Lagoon circles around us. I close my eyes and feel a tear roll down my cheek.
“She’s crying,” someone whispers. Such a simple fact for a human; but for an Essence, it’s so much more.
I break into a sob at the words and feel more tears well up at my eyes.
“Something’s wrong with them, Luna,” another person whispers. I can almost picture the scene like a movie. Here are these people, standing around me like a rat that has just been tested on. The experiment didn’t go as planned, but the scientist—the people of Phantom Lagoon—poke and prod at me to see if I’m still alive. Can we resurrect her?
I feel Luna put her hand to my face and open my eyes. No images form, and I’m blind. I convince myself this is it—this is what it must be like to disappear. She examines my arms and pushes away anyone who comes too close, giving me room to breathe.
“Bring them both closer to the lagoon,” she says, her voice growing farther away from me.
For the next few minutes there is a lot of movement, and I think I’m being lifted. Talking surrounds me, but I can’t understand anything. Why are they even trying to save me? I can feel myself fade away into oblivion. The next thing I know, I’m being dropped into freezing water—the feeling of needles piercing my skin remind me of when I had jumped into the water when I was camping with my mom and dad. Soon all memory disappears quickly, as my mind is numbed, but it doesn’t make sense because it just…hurts.
Everything halts as I cry out in pain, left for dead.
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If you look up the meaning of healing you can find many different definitions. There’s the adjective, noun, and verb (with and without objects). For argument’s sake we will use the verb. Still there are many definitions. The one that fits here is to free from evil; cleanse; purify; to heal the soul.
Free from evil, even if you didn’t know it was there.
Chapter 28
Void
I thought I couldn’t breathe—that’s why I was holding my breath. With a harsh thud, I awaken and air violates my lungs. It’s unwelcome at first, until I feel the cool tendrils of oxygen filtrate through my breath.
“Emma.” At the sound I open my mouth to the oxygen that fills my lungs—air.
Black, there’s nothing to see. I move my feet and kick something—no sound.
“Emma.”
My name, that’s right. My parents call me Emma, but I was born with another name. If only I could remember. I can feel it inside me—that’s not my real name; it’s something else. The name itches at the back of consciousness, letting me know there is more, but I come out empty and unable to find my real name.
I can still hear someone repeat my name, over and over, but I ignore it, trying to think of my real name.
“Emma. Emma.”
I become annoyed with the pestering and kick again—still no sound. I know I hit something. Why doesn’t it make a sound? I kick again.
“Emma,” the voice says firmly.
“Stop,” I try to say, but I can’t hear my voice. “Stop!” My lips form the words but they don’t come. “Stop.”
Maybe I can’t speak. Was I born like this? A mute? Or did something happen?
I try to draw the memories; a cold or sickness, an accident maybe. Nothing. What startles me the most is just that—nothing. There’s nothing to remember but my name; my fake name. Emma. Who am I?
“Emma.”
“Who am I?” I ask the voice that speaks to me. I say it slow, taking my time with each syllable, not even sure if I am making the words. There is no voice to back up my thoughts. No way to know what I am really saying. “I’m not Emma.” The name comes easily to me, and I feel myself sicken because I’m not Emma; I’m someone else. “Who am I?”
A short pause before I hear the words again. “Emma.”
“No!” I say, trying to yell, feeling my throat sting with the action. Still there is nothing. “I’m not Emma,” I say, feeling as if my voice cracked, being tortured by the curse of not being able to hear my words. I want to cry. I feel myself gasping for help, and I scream my useless sobs.
Time passes and my throat burns. I become what I am: mute. The voice is still there, calling me by my false name. “Emma,” it says. I’m not Emma. I don’t know who I am, who I was, or what I’m going to be.
I want to scream—I’ve tried to scream. I can’t; something is wrong with me. I can’t remember.
“Who am I?” I ask again. My throat scratches, but I can hear it. I said something. It’s a quiet, painful whisper, but I’ve spoken. Now the voice calling me Emma has disappeared. I listen for some sort of reply, but there isn’t any. I kick my legs again to see if I will be able to hear the sound, but I feel as if I’m in midair. I thrash around, but my body doesn’t touch anything.
“Help,” I whimper. I become more hopeless as the seconds pass. I gain my voice, as I scream for my life. “Help!”
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How long has it been? Minutes, hours, days?
There’s only black in front of me; I can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed. I can hear my breathing. Shallow, hollow. I don’t sleep.
Sometimes I sing a song. I just started; it came to me from nowhere. Hush, little baby. That’s the only part I know. Once I sung the entire song, it was incredible, the feeling of saying the words. It felt like I was complete. It wasn’t until that moment that I knew I was missing something. Then after I sang the song, I knew there was more out there for me. But when I tried to sing again, nothing came to me. I couldn’t remember anything. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get one verse of the song. It aggravated me, so I kept trying until I got Hush, little baby. There’s more; I know there is, but I can’t find it.
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Insane. That’s what I am. A simple word, a simple meaning—crazy. I don’t talk to myself; never. I f
eel as if I should though. Talking and thinking are the same, right? If there is no one to hear you, are you really talking? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? I don’t really know where the question came from, it just seemed to come, like Hush, little baby. This time I made sure to remember it.
Maybe I’m wrong; maybe someone is right next to me at this moment, but I can’t see them. I guess I’m blind, and they’re mute.
Blind or mute? Which would you pick?
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Mute. I would choose mute. It’s killing me right now; the fact that I can’t see. My guard is down. What if someone sneaks up on me? I don’t know what’s there.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” I ask the person that may in fact be right next to me. There’s no response. No touch on the shoulder, no other sound to tell me that I’m not alone in this abyss. I’ll be quiet now.
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Blind. What if there isn’t anything to see? I’m probably not blind; maybe the world just isn’t there. I don’t remember ever seeing anything. I felt something once. When I first got here, I kicked something with my feet. Wait…was there ever a first? Is this a forever?
I wish this moment could last forever.
I always wonder where these thoughts come from, because they aren’t mine. I still remember all of them. Hush, little baby. The song—I still think there is more that I can’t remember. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? I’ve spent a long time thinking about this question, and I always come up with the same answer—what tree?
I wish this moment could last forever.
I don’t.
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Have you ever asked yourself if you are sad? I have. And I’ve thought about it, and I don’t know what sad really is. Is it when you cry or when you aren’t happy? Because I’ve never cried, but I’ve never been happy. I don’t know what I am.
