A Better Place

Bath

2013-03-26T14:47:00.001-04:00

In the Fahdamin-Ra series, the Bridges family lives in Bath, Maine. In Spellbreaker, Tansy goes to visit her aunt and uncle who also live in Bath, Maine. The reason is because I live in Bath, Maine and love it.

My Bath is named after Bath, England, which was named after Roman baths that were built in that city because of the hot springs. The Romans called it Aquae Sulis (the waters of Sulis) but Bath is a more catchy name, I think:

Here is a picture of Bath, Maine, City of Ships:

Bath, New Hampshire, Covered Bridge Capitol of New England:

Now to get away from New England with Bath, North Carolina, the first town for the state:

Some Bath locations are so small that I could not find photos of them on the internet. I looked for a list of all the towns/cities named Bath in the United States and here is what I found:

Bath, California
Bath, Illinois
Bath, Indiana
Bath, Maine
Bath, Michigan
Bath, New Hampshire
Bath, New York (town)
Bath, New York (village)
Bath, North Carolina
Bath, Pennsylvania
Bath, South Carolina
Bath, South Dakota
Bath, West Virginia
Is there a Bath near you? Can you send me a photo?

A Storybook House

2013-03-14T15:18:00.001-04:00

In Full Wolf Moon, the book I am currently writing, my main character, Amelia, lives in a Storybook Tudor house. I have searched but have not found a house to look exactly like her house, but found different elements that resemble what is in my head.

Her house is half timbered on the top floor and stone on the bottom floor. I really like the top floor on this house.

The house below has more visual interest like I imagined for Amelia's house, but the timbers are brown, not green.

This house is more like I had in mind, with the stone first floor and half timbered second floor, but I like the design of the green house above.

All the doors in Amelia's house are arched, like below. They are painted bottle green.

Amelia's house has a slate roof of reddish slates, like this house. I love the decorative design. Tudor Storybook houses have unusual and or decorative chimneys usually.

I will probably have to end up drawing the house so that I get an exact likeness.

Meet the Characters of Spellbreaker

2013-03-12T12:04:00.000-04:00

My newest published book, Spell Breaker, is a little different from my Travels to Fahdamin-Ra series but there are some similarities. Both books start out in Bath, Maine, but move on to another world where magic happens and the main characters are brown kids that change due to their visits to those worlds. They also find that people, even adults, depend on them and their choices.

In Spell Breaker, Tansy is the main character. She is fifteen, a medium height, brown, unaware of how pretty she is, and likes to please people. She is a dreamer and creative person who loves fairy tales and that is why she is given the book, The Enchantress of Caraban, to read by her aunt's friend. When she is drawn into the book and finds herself in Caraban, Tansy is worried about her family missing her but at the same time, she loves being inside a fairy tale world. As she works her way throughout the book with her traveling companions, Tansy starts relying on herself and standing up for what she believes in. Tansy ends up having a lot of conflicts with her cousin Donna, mostly about Chad, the handsome guy that was pulled into the book years before.

Donna's father married Tansy's aunt the November before. (The book takes place around the Fourth of July.) Tansy visits the family and does not know her new cousin Donna or her Uncle Richard hardly at all. Donna is fifteen, an athlete, is tall, blond, and pretty; but she knows it. Her father is harsh, disciplined about physical fitness, but obsessed with how he looks, so Donna has picked up those traits. Richard is very controlling so Donna likes to do what she can to fool him so that she can go off with friends and do things he would not approve of. She is also pulled into the Enchantress of Caraban book but is miscast as the character of Falinda, a part for which Tansy was well suited, so throughout the story, Donna fluctuates between trying to be Falinda or relying on Tansy to do the things Falinda is supposed to do.

Chad Hollingsworth is the handsome guy who is supposed to be the character of Samuel in The Enchantress of Caraban book. He is seventeen, tall, black, easygoing, likes to read and learn, and falls for Tansy even though his character is supposed to be smitten by Falinda. Chad was pulled into the book during the 1930's and he is impressed at the changes that have happened since he has been gone, like the fact that Tansy's dad, a black man, can marry a white woman. He is more mature and gentlemanly than guys Tansy is used to and Chad is one of the reasons that she changes and starts believing in herself.

I hope you go to Amazon Kindle and get a copy of Spell Breaker, so you can get to know these characters! http://www.amazon.com/Spell-Breaker-ebook/dp/B00ASZ110K/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363103368&sr=8-1&keywords=spell+breaker

Thanks, I'll Make it Myself - Earrings

2013-02-25T16:02:00.000-05:00

I love clothes and especially accessories. Sometimes, I will decide on an accessory first and select clothes compliment it, which is backwards but fun. Over the years, I have learned to create things because I either cannot find what I want or I don't have oodles of money to buy something I want. I realized the other day that I have a lot of earrings. First, I started out by making necklaces and things naturally evolved to create earrings to match.

These are most of the earrings I have made for myself. Sometimes I select beads that I like and other times they are picked because of the color.

Some beads were expensive so I only made earrings while others were on sale or from inexpensive bags that I bought.

Even though you can't tell from the photo, the brownish red beads on one pair (second from left) look like bears.

The light really catches the round orange ones that remind me of marbles (third from the left) and the orange teardrop ones beside them are from an old necklace of my mother's from the 1960's. I remade the broken necklace from a short, multi strand choker type to a very long necklace that gives me more options and made the earrings to match.

The turquoise ones to the left of those are one of my favorites and fun to wear!

I suppose you can tell by now that I prefer dangling earrings to studs. Even before I made my own, I preferred dangling ones.

On the bottom row, the set on the far left are some that I made to go with a necklace that I created. I have a lot of necklaces that have an African inspired theme.

I made the teal set beside those because I liked the beads so much and I like to wear teal. That is a pair that I select at times and decide on my outfit afterward.

The ones on the far right bottom row I made to go with a beautiful velvet scarf that is a rich golden color, with teal and periwinkle designs in it. They look like an unusual color combination until I put the scarf with them. (You can see them better in a photo below.)

Starting on the far left; I wore the leopard print set a lot when I was doing book signings for my first book "Travels to Fahdamin-Ra" because it has a leopard on the cover. I have a leopard print scarf I wear with them.

I made the carp set because I fell in love with the fish and decided to make them very simple. I tend to wear them more in the summer, when I wear light green.

One fun pair is the set in the middle with the red cubes and long gold tassels. I find myself absent-mindedly playing with those when I wear them.

The red beads at the far right are beads made from clay that has been glazed and fired.

On the bottom row to the left are the gold and crystal ones that are perfect because they go with everything and catch the light.

I love yellow and the yellow set is fun to wear any time of the year. I found those beads at JoAnn's Fabrics and I should pick up some more and make a necklace because I like them so much. This is making me want to go make some more!

Cooking

2013-02-15T15:08:00.000-05:00

I love to cook and although I don't eat sweets, I sometimes get the urge to make cookies or other desserts. Coworkers were talking about how long it would be until Girl Scout cookies arrived, so I made up a recipe for rolled chocolate cookies and added peppermint oil to the dough. I rolled them out really thin, cut them with my biscuit cookie cutter, and baked them. Afterwards, I melted dark chocolate chips in my little melting pot which looks like a miniature crock pot. I added peppermint oil to that, about 1/2 a teaspoon, and blended it into the chocolate. I dipped the cookies and even though they did not come out nice and smooth like Girl Scout cookies, people in my office loved them and so did my husband. I put some in the freezer so that the next time I visit my daughter I can give them to her.

I have not found a rolled chocolate cookie recipe like the one I have and used to make these cookies. It is from an old Pillsbury cook book, the little ones that used to come out each month. I subscribed to them when I lived in Puerto Rico and some of those cook books are getting fairly beaten up. I found a lot of my favorite recipes in a big Pillsbury cook book and could eliminate some of the books. On my to do list is a chore where I take recipes I love, scan them, and add them to a list. I just added a bunch to ZipList and it is amazing! You can add any recipe to your recipe box, plan meals from them, and they automatically make a grocery list. I was pleased to see that they included Shaws and Hannaford, two major supermarkets around here.

I like having a variety of meals. My planned suppers starting tonight are Spicy Chicken Breasts, Herbed Salmon, Hungarian Mushroom Soup, Five Spice Pork Kebobs, Red Lentil Curry, Minestrone Soup, and Garam Masala Chicken Stew. I know this sounds like an advertisement for ZipList, but it is free! I am the person who cooks most of the meals in my house, so this gives me more time for important things like writing.

Yes, That's My Family ~ At the Beach

2013-02-05T16:08:00.001-05:00

The day after my husband Buzz and I got married, we went to the beach. This was in June in Maine, which you might think would be fairly mild. I had sun screen on but forgot to reapply it and ended up getting a sunburn. Later, he kept forgetting and putting touching my shoulders, which were the worst. That was when I realized that he did not understand about having a sunburn. As far as I know, Buzz has never had a sunburn in his life. Lucky!

I bought SPF 30 and slathered my kids with it when we lived in Virginia and that was fine. I bought the same strength when we moved to Puerto Rico. There was a swimming pool about a block down the street from where we lived and we went across the base so that they could take lessons in a large pool. Toliver was three at the time and fearless. He would jump in the pool in water over his head even though he could not swim, so he needed lessons. Callista, who is three years older, swam well but I knew she could swim even better if she took lessons as well. We never went to the pool during the hottest part of the day and we were fine.

The base also had a lot of neat little beaches and our favorite was Crab Beach, even though Toliver said it as "Cwab Beach" so that is what we called it. We took a picnic and went swimming there one day. The next day, I saw that the kids had little blisters on their shoulders. Yikes! They got sunburned becausetheir skin was just dark enough that I couldn't tell it was burning.

After that, I always made sure that the kids wore white tee shirts when we visited the beach and I beefed up our sunscreen to SPF 50.

I did not realize that my husband could tan. When we lived in San Diego, CA and went to the beach, he never wore sunscreen. He got a tan! Granted, it took a while. My kids were very dark when we lived in Puerto Rico, even though I went through gallons of sun screen. I guess the sun is just so strong near the equator. They do even though we are living in Maine again and the sun is a lot weaker. You can't be too careful with skin cancer.

Chi, the Lovesick Puppy

2013-01-29T10:27:00.001-05:00

Chi is a handsome young man, 16 years old, gets along with his parents, and is a nice person. However, he has a terrible weakness. He develops a powerful puppy love for Celestine, and she of course, is a Creator. The other blockade in his road to romance is that she only views him as a friend, and has no romantic interest in him. That does not stop Chi however, and he is convinced that if he is patient long enough, she will come to her senses. It makes it awkward for Celestine, because whenever Chi touches her, she inadvertently reads his thoughts. It seems that she can't escape him.

In Travels to Fahdamin-Ra, after things settle down a bit between the Masambas and the Creators, Chi is quick to approach Celestine and show her his treehouse. He thinks she is pretty and her powers intrigue him. Later, when she is consoling Chi about his brother having left and gone across the savannah with his Jabulani wife, Celestine promises to travel across the savannah with him and others, to find Chi's lost sibling. At first, Celestine is so overwhelmed by the admiration of the Fahdamins, she chalks Chi's infatuation off as Creator-worship. Later, she discovers how he feels about her and his acute case of puppy love.

When Chi accompanies them on their trip across the savannah, Joel is often puzzled by his sister defending the Masamba teen, when she knows how Chi feels about her. Even though she finds Chi's romantic attentions annoying, Celestine does not tease him or put him down, and she feels protective of him. In her eyes, Joel is being somewhat of a bully to argue with Chi, because her brother is a Creator with loads of powers. Once their journey is ended and they arrive at the island of Yahimba, Chi is busy enough that he stops being a problem.

In Firebloods, Chi does something that really shocks Celestine! It might change their relationship forever.

The Quiet Young Woman With the Adventurous Heart

2012-09-25T09:54:00.000-04:00

When Celestine has her first confrontation with Cat-ara, Ka-puki steps in and smooths things out. The reader meets this young Jabuani woman in Travels to Fahdamin-Ra, and Kapuki's story continues in Across the Savannah, and in Firebloods.

Mary McAvoy edited Travels, and she thought that Ka-puki was as young as Celestine. I had to go back and correct things, because Mary knows what she is talking about. I thought of Ka-puki being an eighteen-year-old, and she hung around with sixteen-year-old Cat-ara, because being older and wiser, she knew that the insolent Cat-ara was lacking manners, good judgment, and friends. Ka-puki is loyal to her friends and family, and does not want to hear gossip or criticism of them. She is soft spoken, small of stature, but has a strong will and a big heart.

Ka-puki's mother is Artist Teacher Fay-ola, so she is one of the Becca, the five women who govern the tribe. Her father is the quiet O-nani, who slips in and out of scenes occasionally. I wanted a female character that was cute and nice, but had a lot of depth to her once the reader got to know her. She comes from a quiet, hardworking family. She had two older brothers who were a year apart in age, but they disappeared. Her parents believe that the boys were killed by crocodiles, which live in a swampy area near the ocean, and are a hazard to the Jabulani that pass by them on rafts.

Both Cat-ara and Ka-puki were in training to be possible future Becca in their tribe. Fay-ola taught Ka-puki from birth about the making of pottery and tiles, weaving and decorating of cloth, and other crafts in which the Jabulani excel. Ka-puki, like her mother, tends to listen to other people talk and then work for a way to have everyone come to a compromise. This has made Ka-puki mature for her age, and most Jabulani tend to favor her to follow her mother into the post of Artist Teacher. Cat-ara, on the other hand, is disliked by most of the Jabulani and only her foster mother, Qui-ana thinks that she would be a fit leader of the Becca one day.

When Ka-puki becomes an Exchange Youth and goes to Harun, she, like most Jabulani, does not know how to read or write. Prince Kayin decides to personally teach her and the other Exchange Youth, Nas-sor. Ka-puki is thrilled with learning and after she and Nas-sor have to leave Harun, Prince Kayin talks to Councilor Raymond about continuing to teach them in Jabulan. Raymond was all for education, so he asks King Zayas to spare his son, so of course the king complies, and Kayin happily moves into a hut at the stone circle and starts teaching at Jabulan every day.

Stop right here if you haven't read Travels to Fahdamin-Ra, because I am going to give some story line away. Kayin and Ka-puki start seeing one another. Kayin is infatuated with her, and she is very attached to him. Even though the City Director is looking for another bride for Kayin, he does not care and is determined to have his fling with Ka-puki. The young Jabulani woman knows that Kayin will go back to Harun one day, marry a hand-picked bride, and settle down to a somewhat happy life, so she decides to have a fling with him as long as she is able. It is sheer luck that Ka-puki and Kayin are chosen to go across the savannah with the Creators, giving them a chance to be away from their tribes, and giving them more time. By then, Kayin has a bride that he knows about, and Ka-puki resigns herself to the fact that when the journey ends, she will have to give up the prince, return to her tribe, and eventually select a husband from the many men who adore her.

Or so she thinks.....

2012-08-27T14:52:00.000-04:00

Firebloods Hit Town

I am so glad to be blogging again. There was a problem where I could see my blog but not have access to it, so, just when I was thinking that I would have to start another, I gained access to it again. In July, the third book to the Fahdamin-Ra series came out as an e book, which was exciting. It is fun to write a series because it is like temporarily moving back to a neighborhood where you used to live and seeing old, familiar faces again and some new ones.

As I write the Fahdamin-Ra series, the books get more difficult. In the first one, Celestine and Joel arrive in Fahdamin-Ra and have no idea of their abilities, so I spent most of the book with them getting acquainted with that world and their supernatural abilities. They did not need much of a protagonist because so much was unknown to them.

In Across the Savannah, it was a little harder because they are familiar now with their magic and they do more experimenting. They had to have a more powerful foe because they are more powerful first.

By the time I started writing the third book, the kids had figured out a lot of things and found, that by putting their minds to it, they could figure out more. I wanted this foe to be scary. The first two books were not really scary. It is fun coming up with bad guys and I wanted the Firebloods to be as despicable as possible. Usually, there is something that the reader likes about the villain (isn't that one reason why Hannibal Lecter is so compelling?) However, there are a few moments here and there, where Celestine has compassion for the Firebloods.

I changed the book covers for the e books because my very wise publisher pointed out that potential readers would see the animals on the covers and think that they were books about animals, so I changed to simple pictures of people. On Travels to Fahdamin-Ra, it is a silhouette of Celestine, and on the cover of Across the Savannah, it is a silhouette of Joel. On the cover of Firebloods, is a sort of silhouette of a Fireblood, of course.

Travels to Fahdamin-Ra, soft cover

Travels to Fahdamin-Ra, e book

Across the Savannah, soft cover

Across the Savannah, e book

Foxes

2012-05-16T13:29:00.000-04:00

My daughter loves foxes and so do I. Here in Maine, we have red foxes, like the one in the photo above, and gray foxes. Growing up out in the country, I would occasionally see a fox crossing the fields, bushy tail floating along behind it. In the winter, it was fun to see a fox hunting for mice underneath the crust of the snow, cocking their ears to listen for the rodents running along and then pouncing when a mouse showed themselves on top of the snow.

This fox lives at the Maine Wildlife Park in Gray, Maine. It has been there my whole life and I love to visit. Wild animals are brought there because they have been hurt or people have picked them up when they are young and brought them home as pets. Oftentimes, people think that the babies are abandoned when the parents are out finding food or are hiding when people intrude into their area.

It is ironic - I was taught to leave wild animals alone when I was a child, but we also had a raccoon for a while and a great horned owl. The raccoon was a baby when it's mother was killed and my father brought it home to raise. It was fun for a while, but then it grew up. One day, it climbed on top of the oven and started feasting on a cheesecake that was cooling there. My father went to get it away from the food and the raccoon (naturally) bit him. After it finished eating, my father put it in a burlap bag and took it to a remote wooded area and let it go. I sometimes wonder how long that raccoon survived after it was let go.

My father also brought home a great horned owl because he was driving home from work and saw an owl that a local doctor had captured and staked out in a field. Its natural enemy, crows, were coming down to plague the owl and the doctor and his friends were shooting them. My father ran out in the field, pulled up the stake, got the owl, and brought it home. It stayed with us for a little while until its wing healed. It was very expensive to feed it raw meat!

I have taught my children to leave wild animals alone, and I practice what I preach. It is fun to go look at the animals at the Wildlife Park, but sad to think that some of them are there because people interfered.

On a happier note, if you like foxes, there is a talking fox in my book "Spellbreaker". My daughter and I also love fairy tales, so Tansy, the main character, gets pulled into a fairy tale. The talking fox is named Reynold and of course, Tansy loves him, letting him cuddle up beside her at night and eat off her plate. I will let you know when "Spellbreaker" comes out as an ebook but in the meantime, support your local Wildlife Park!

Overcoming a Broken Leg

2012-05-11T14:12:00.001-04:00

Today, I walked to work for the first time since I broke my leg on January 30th. I was a little nervous at first, but once I passed the place where I fell, it was a great relief.

I walk to work because it is only about 1 3/4 miles from where I live and the exercise is great because I sit at a desk all day. Last summer, I rode my bike, which is another story. Anyway, it had just started snowing that fateful day when I started to walk, but I did not worry about it. I had on boots, a warm jacket, my stuff in a knapsack and was using ski poles. Even though the snow started coming down harder, I kept on because I did not want to turn back and get my car.

Besides there being snow and ice, I got out my cell phone and called a friend. So there I was, walking along, holding my cell phone up to my ear and carrying ski poles with the other hand, when I slipped and fell forward, dropping my cell phone on the sidewalk, where it broke open and the battery fell out. There was a flare of pain up my right leg, but I thought that I had sprained my ankle. I sat on the sidewalk and tried to wipe off my phone and put it back together, but the snow was falling too fast and thick, so it was impossible to get it dry and working.

I got on my hands and knees, but the pain was really awful when I put pressure on my right ankle. I tried to get up on my feet but the pain made me feel woozy and everything started to look gray. I remember looking at my watch, and it was a few minutes after 8 am. I tried waving to people, but everyone drove by. I was wearing a bright yellow sweater and a red coat, so I didn't blend in with the snow, and the area was by a school, so everyone had to drive 15 mph. No one stopped.

After a while, I looked at my watch and saw that ten minutes had passed by. I was cold and in a lot of pain. One of my coworkers usually took that route to get to work by 8:30, so I hoped that he would see me and come to my aid. I sat there, watching the cars go by and felt like I was in a daze.

Then, a school bus stopped on the other side of the street and the driver called out the window and asked if I needed help. What a wonderful person! I replied that I did need help, and he apologised that he could not leave the bus because he had little children on it. He did put on his blinking lights, forcing cars to stop so that he could alert drivers that I needed help.

A bunch of people stopped and helped and a very nice couple that I did not know gave me a ride to the hospital, where the doctor told me that I had snapped off the bottom of my fibula. I was issued crutches and had a cast put on the next day. Since I had broken my right leg, I could not drive and had to depend on family, friends, and co-workers for rides.

After 7 weeks in a cast, 5 weeks in a brace, I now am able to work on getting my leg restored to normal. At first, I could only walk a few blocks before my ankle would really start hurting. Today, I walked to work and my ankle only bothered me a little.

I am thinking of having one of my characters break their leg, and have them lay somewhere, unable to move....

I'll Make it Myself

2012-05-08T12:08:00.001-04:00

Sometimes it is satisfying to sew something for myself. I have been sewing for years, since I was ten years old and my mother signed me up for a sewing class because I kept begging to use the sewing machine. Being a chunky kid, I sewed a lot of my own clothes by the time I got to high school and when I was a stay at home mom, I sewed clothes for my family, curtains, drapes, and other stuff for my house, and even a wedding dress for a friend.

When I was sewing a new dress the other day, I thought about how many people I know that don't know how to sew or find it difficult, so I decided to pass on some helpful and timesaving tips.

First of all, I have a grid printed on cardboard, which I open up and lay on the dining room table. I cut out everything at once (I was making two dresses, a scarf, and a pillowcase.) For the dress I am going to show you, I ironed the fabric (having washed and dried it beforehand to pre-shrink it, and important step) and ironed the pattern pieces I needed before cutting them out. After cutting, I made marks for the darts with a special washable marker, then took the pins out and folded the fabric once or twice with the pattern, so I would know which pieces were which.

Next, I pinned all the darts and pieces together where I could. There are two important things to making something look great - sew it well and press as you go. I made a pile of items that were pinned and sewed each one, putting the sewn pieces in another pile, and then I pressed the seams:

After that, I kept sewing and pressing. I have a serger set up with the correct color of thread and I usually sew with that for most of the garment. In this case, I decided to line the dress, so I did not need to have serged edges.

The dress I made is like the purple one on the pattern envelope. The bodice is supposed to be lined but I decided to line the skirt, since the fabric is mostly white. It makes it easier in a way, but on the other hand, I am really sewing two dresses and putting them together. Once both the dress and the lining were sewn together, I basted the zipper in place (SOOO worth the time and effort!) and sewed the zipper, hemmed the dress and lining and I was done. I have a white belt that I put with it, though if I hadn't I would have bought the materials needed and made my own. (Maybe that can be another blog.)

My dress when done:

The best part is while I was sewing it, I came up with the idea for a new book.....

Things I Like To Do - Refinishing Furniture

2012-01-25T14:24:00.000-05:00

Besides being a writer and artist, I like to do a lot of other creative things. Today, I am going to talk about refinishing furniture.

I like to decorate, resulting in a lot of changing furniture arrangements. When I was a kid, I was recruited to paint things from spray painting dried milkweed pods and pine cones gold to painting the picnic table. We always had leftover paint around, so I used it sometimes to paint furniture for my room.

When my husband was in the navy, we did not have a lot of money, so after we found furniture at yard sales, I painted it. I also inherited some old furniture that my great-grandfather made, covered in dark brown varnish that came off like chewing gum when the wood was scraped and sanded. I figured out how to make upholstered seat cushions and even though everything wasn't a collector's item, the furniture started to blend together.

One of the best pieces of advice that I have ever read was to have all the furniture in your house be roughly the same color. It has worked well - a bookcase in the living room can be moved to an upstairs bedroom or into the kitchen and not have to be refinished. A small table can serve as a beside table or end table. I have a few pieces that I paint, usually white to match the woodwork, and they go anywhere.

I took a class to learn how to cane chairs and I caned most of the old chairs that I was given with broken seats. I have a few more to do. One chair is a neat old wooden high chair that was my grandfather's. It was painted light blue, so I stripped it down then refinished it. I have the finer cane to do the seat, which I have not gotten around to and need to soon because it could be used by some little children that visit.

There is something inside of me that likes to improve things and the feeling of accomplishment is a great feeling, when I look around my house and see how many pieces of furniture I have improved. It kind of makes me feel like my furniture had a beauty makeover.

Yes, That's My Family - Attending Church

2011-09-28T13:38:00.000-04:00

This is inside the building of the church that I used to attend - it is a different denomination now.

As I said before, I started attending my friend Shirley's church in Virginia in August. I attended services for a few months until my daughter was born at the end of October. Buzz was on deployment, so he did not get to know those folks until November, when Callista was two weeks old.

We were not trying to be cagey or anything, but it seemed impossible at first to find a church in Norfolk where we felt comfortable. Martin Luther King, Jr. said "It is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is 11 o'clock on Sunday morning…," and things have not changed that much in America. I went to an Ice Cream Social with Shirley and really liked the people, so I decided to attend services at the almost-all-white church. It was 100% white because two elderly black women moved into a retirement building down the street and it was too far for them to attend their old church across town. I was a young, white, pregnant Navy wife who was enfolded into the flock.

When Buzz and I attended after the birth of our daughter, people were nice enough, though I could tell some people were surprised to discover that my husband was black. I met some wonderful people from that church that are still my friends. We were members there for seven years until we got stationed in Puerto Rico.

Two incidents bothered me. One was after Buzz and I became members of the Diaconate. It used to be that the Diaconate was made up of all men. This church had communion every Sunday morning, served by the Diaconate members as the people sat in their pews. Some of the older people would not accept communion unless it was offered to them by a Deacon. It was ironic that some of the Elders who blessed the communion and passed it to the Diaconate were women, but those people didn't seem to care about that. A lot of the Diaconate were offended that those members would not take communion from a woman, and they started saying, "What if they won't take communion from Buzz?" It was not going to be the last time that the issue of color would be dragged into a discussion about people not liking other types of people. In the end, the minister said that we (the Diaconate) needed to love and accept people who did not love and accept others.

The second incident was when we had been church members for over six years. When we went to get our family photo taken for the church directory, there were some people that my friend Laura pointed out. Later, when I asked her why she was pointing out that couple, she said that they had left the church when Buzz and I became members. I did not know what to think when Laura told me that. I felt guilty at first, because the couple gave the church a lot of money and he was an Elder and she was a Deaconess. When they stood up at a church board meeting and announced their intent, the rest of the board members told them that they were welcoming this interracial couple into their church, and if they did not like it, they could leave.

That people stood up and did the right thing at that church made me feel such a wave of love and gratitude for them and what they did for us. After all, it is the kind and wonderful things that people have done for me in my life and not so much the crappy stuff that lingers and makes me a better person.

Yes, That's My Family - Friends and Relatives

2011-09-16T14:06:00.000-04:00

There have been people who have not approved of my marriage to Buzz, or the fact that we had children. I want to take a moment here to talk about some fun experiences with friends and relatives.

After looking back on my continuing story, I forgot to tell the story of when we visited my sister-in-law, Gina, in the hospital. Gina was admitted because they discovered that she had diabetes and it was way out of control. When Buzz, his dad and stepmother, and Gina's three girls, and I went to the hospital, we could only have one or two people at a time visit her, because she was so ill.

When my father-in-law was upstairs visiting her, the rest of us were hanging out in the cafeteria, which was empty at the time except for a middle aged white woman. Buzz was getting change and buying the girls stuff out of the vending machines, so Delores, my mother-in-law and I were sitting at a table and talking. The white woman started talking to me, telling me about her medical problems. I listened politely, making appropriate sympathetic comments, until she finally ran out of symptoms to talk about. She looked at the rest of the Youngs and asked, "Do you know these people?" I introduced Delores and told the woman that the man was my husband and the girls were my nieces.

The woman looked at my family and said, "We had a colored boy that worked for us one time as a gardener."

I could see Delores start to open her mouth and blast that woman because "colored" was such an offensive word to her. Before she could say anything, I looked at the white woman and asked, "So what color was he?"

The woman was taken aback and sputtered about the man being a negro. I told her, "We like to use the term 'black', thanks!" The woman did not know what to say, so she got up and left. Delores and I almost fell off of our chairs, laughing. When Buzz and then my father-in-law approached us, we were laughing too hard to explain at first.

Delores explained later that the word 'colored' had a lot of negative connotations for her, having grown up in the south where it reminded her of 'colored only' water fountains and the like.

I also cannot look back at my first visit with my in-laws without thinking of my three Young nieces - Angela, Lisa, and Tracie with a smile. I am sure that they knew white people but I think I was the first close relative that was white. They were really young - I think that they were 9, 7 and 6 years old when Buzz and I got married. The girls were curious about me and paid a lot of attention to me, like when they all wanted to comb my hair - at the same time!

Another thing that made me laugh was that they wanted to come in the bedroom when I was changing or into the bathroom when I was taking a bath. Gina got after them because she thought that they were bugging me, but I guessed what they were curious about - the girls wanted to know if I was the same color all over - something that I wondered about black people when I was a little kid.

There will be more fun stories coming up in my next blog of experiences with friends and relatives.

Yes, That's My Family - 10 Stupid Things People Say to Us.

2011-09-08T13:23:00.000-04:00

My husband and I have been experiencing an interracial marriage for over 27 years, have two kids, and during that time, we have had people come up to us and say some really stupid things. Usually, they start with, "I am not a racist, but..."

What people have said to me:

1) Is he/they with you? 'He' in this instance is Buzz, my husband, and 'they' refers to my kids, or my kids and my husband, or my relatives on my husband's side who are black.

2) Couldn't you find a white guy to marry? Apparently not. I polled all the white men in the world of marriageable age and none of them would marry me, so Buzz got me by default. Yes, I am being sarcastic here!

3) How could you bring bi-racial children into the world? People think that because we had two children, they are scarred for life. My daughter and son, who call themselves 'brown' when they refer to their race, are well adjusted, happy adults who think that being two races is an advantage.

4) When you and your husband get into a fight, do you call him a nigger? What the heck? It never crosses my mind. Obviously, if I was of the ignorant mindset that I thought that Buzz was a nigger, then I would not have married him. Duh!

5) White women shouldn't have black children because they don't know how to take care of their hair. Really? I did not realize that top hairdressing skills were a requirement for being a mother.

6) You kids are so cute! Where did you get them? I stole them from a black woman when her back was turned? I must admit that it is funny sometime to see the expression on people's faces when they realize that I am the kids' biological mother. The most hilarious times were when my kids had Halloween parties and I would go to the door, dressed in a costume. Sometimes, people thought I was the maid.

What people have said to Buzz:

1) What's the matter, aren't black women good enough for you? The irony in this is that there were some black women who would not date Buzz when he was single, because he was too dark. Buzz explained to me that it is a mindset from the slave days, when darker skinned people who looked like him worked in the fields, while the lighter skinned slaves worked in the house and were higher up in the slave hierarchy.

2) Some of my best friends are black. Really? Why didn't you mention that some of your best friends are white? Buzz and I think that if you single out someone by race, you are not as close to that person as you try to appear.

3) I have nothing against black people, but I wouldn't want my daughter/son to marry one. What people who say this are REALLY saying is "As long as black people stay away from me, I don't have a problem with them, though they are inferior to me, a white person."

4) Why is it that black men are always (choose one) good dancers, good athletes, good musicians, or are well endowed? Being black is not easy. You have to enroll in "Black School" at an early age, where there is rigorous training in music and athletic abilities. Black men that are not well endowed are banished to a secret location, to live a obscure life of shame.

I made sarcastic comments because we think that the things people ask are mostly funny. There are some things that hurt my feelings in the past, but now, I just look at the person who is making the comment and feel sorry for them.

Chapter 7 ~ The Masamba

2011-09-07T11:42:00.006-04:00

We arrived back at the city and then parted ways. Yohance and Jetta took the twins home while Joel and I went to locate our dad. We found him alone, reading parchments in the back room of the temple.

“Are you finding anything interesting?” I queried as we sat across the stone table from him. He leaned back, stretched, and then rubbed his eyes.

“A little. The Harun tend to be dry and long-winded, so it takes time to sift through and find pertinent information. One history or legend is that the first Creator, Obasi, created Fahdamin-Ra and all its inhabitants. He moved back and forth between our world and here by use of the stone.” Dad shook his head. “It sounds like a fairy tale, except here we are.”

“How did he create this world?” asked Joel.

“In this account, he didn’t. This world was already here. It goes into great detail - and I mean a lot - about how he formed the Harun from the rock of these mountains, the Masamba from the wood of the trees, and the Jabulani from the clay of the riverbank. That is as far as I got.”

“He made people out of rocks and stuff? I gotta read that sometime. We found out some things today, too.” Joel was eager to tell about our adventures. He started talking about the apartment, which Dad wanted to see. We left the temple and hiked up to our new lodgings.

Half a dozen guards and another Historical Scribe waited for us there. To my immense relief, Dad dismissed them all over their polite protests. When it was just the three of us again, we showed him around. Once he admired the outside, we brought him into the main room and told him about the rest of our day.

“I am curious about the Masamba, and the Jabulani, too,” Dad said.

“Why don’t we go now, and visit the Masamba?” Joel asked, eager for another adventure.

“What? In the jungle at night? How would we find them? It’s dark out there.” It was the last thing I wanted to do.

“We would see their fires from above, when we fly there,” my brother said. “Let’s just drop in.”

“Maybe another time, kids. It has been a long, exciting day and you need to go to bed now.” Dad said.

My brother and I both protested. “I don’t feel tired at all.” I said. “You know, nothing made me tired today.”

“We went all day without eating or drinking anything, either.” Joel added. “I think that Creators don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep. What we can do is fly, like right now.”

Dad slowly looked convinced, but said, “I don’t know how to fly, son.”

“It is so easy. We can show you and you’ll be flying in a couple of minutes.”

“Where is he going to learn?” I countered, pointing to the ceiling.

My brother was undaunted as he strode outside. “Let’s try it out here, on the balcony.” We joined him on the veranda. Dad went to the edge and looked down.

“The ground is awfully far down there. Do you think I can learn before I fall and break my neck?”

“No,” I said.

“Yes,” Joel said at the same time.

Dad stood there, thinking. “So, what do I have to do?”

My father caught on quickly. He was much more careful than Joel and enjoyed flying more than I did, so soon we were zipping along over Harun, the fields, and then arriving at the jungle. I tried to look for lights below but when I did, my stomach would flip. The moons covered everything in their fluid silver light, making the landscape below shimmer. We flew for some time, but we could not locate the Masamba fires.

“What about the Outsider village? We could go there tonight instead,” I suggested after a while. I would rather go to a civilized village than a dark, scary jungle filled with wild animals and even wilder people.

Dad shook his head. “I want the Directorate to take us there themselves. Did you see how reluctant Zayas seemed? He needs to answer for what they have done. No, I’m determined to find the Masamba. Let’s fly lower.” We flew so low that our toes brushed the topmost leaves on the trees. It was annoying to have bugs hitting my face and arms. I was careful to keep my mouth closed.

Dad slowed, flying in a circle. Next, I caught whiffs of wood smoke. All three of us stopped until we hovered in the air. Lights twinkled below my feet. We floated down while being careful not to brush against leaves and branches.

An unseen man was speaking somewhere beneath us. In front of us to the right was a clearing. There was a fire in the middle and torches around the perimeter of the clearing, lighting the circular area brightly. Off to one side sat four men on large, high-backed chairs. There was a fifth chair in the middle and the man standing in front of it was the speaker, whose voice we could hear. A single man sat in a smaller, less ornate seat off to their right. There was a crowd of people facing them, sitting on the ground and watching.

I wanted to stop and hear what the man was saying, but my father kept descending. We followed Dad as he touched down in front of the crowd and heard their gasps of astonishment. The speaker stopped and there was complete silence.

Though our dropping in was unexpected, the Masamba did not pause but took immediate action. People melted away into the darkness until the leaders were the only ones left facing us.

The speaker stared at us for a few moments, which was intimidating. He was a little taller than my father and massive with muscle and bulk. Like Hunter, his chest was bare, but around his waist was a type of skirt made from narrow, braided strips of leather, and a fluffy fur neck-piece covered his shoulders. He was scary. On his head he wore the head of a snarling baboon, a huge knife hung from his belt, and he held a yard long, narrow club. I wished we had never decided to come down and face him. The fire reflected in his deep-set eyes as he fingered one of the braids of his long beard.

The other four men were dressed similarly and they glared at us. The lone man to the right got out of his chair and came closer to the group. He was as massive, but unlike the others, he did not wear a baboon head or a braided leather skirt. There were tufts of tawny fur woven in his hair, the same as Hunter. He had a beard, but it was shorter and not braided. Instead of scowling at us like the rest, his eyes rested on us with wonder. If he had been alone, our reception might have been friendlier.

My father stood straight and tall, not intimidated by the leader, or at least, he did not show it. “What are you doing here? You have invaded the serenity of our gathering,” the man in charge said.

“We are the Creators and have arrived at Fahdamin-Ra after our long absence. Since our return, we are meeting each tribe.”

“My tribe does not believe in Creators. Leave now, and do not bother us again.” The man turned his back on Dad, and plunked down in his chair.

Dad glanced back at us and then folded his arms. “I am not leaving and neither are my children. We have come a long way to visit you, so why don’t you make the effort to get to know us? After all, who else but Creators would visit you by flying?”

“You are not Creators. You are magicians, who used a trick,” he spoke loudly, playing to the unseen audience of his people, who listened in the dark.

My father studied the man for a moment. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned about being rude to Creators, with the powers we possess?”

The man looked bored. “There are no such beings as the Creators.”

Dad scowled. “Well, we will just have to convince you.” For a reply, the man lifted an eyebrow and smirked toward his friends. My father stared at the leader and the leader’s chair rose from the ground. The man was jolted, but tried to cover it up.

“It is still a trick,” he called, from twelve feet over our heads. “You cannot convince me that easily.” Dad shrugged his shoulders, and lowered the man to the ground. The leader’s expression did not change, but he stood up and moved away from his seat.

“Bring someone to me that is sick or wounded, and I will cure them,” My father spoke matter-of-factly.

The leader held up his stick and gazed at it when he said, “We do not have any sick or wounded people. We cure them at the shrine.”

“Let me have your knife and your arm. I will make a cut and then heal it.”

The men snorted with laughter at this proposal, but Hunter stalked out of the darkness and up to Dad. He handed my father the large knife that hung from his belt. Dad took it and grasped Hunter’s outstretched hand. Gritting his teeth, he slashed Hunter’s arm as the warrior stood there, unmoving. Blood gushed out; dripping on the ground as Hunter took back his knife and returned it to its sheath, his movements calm and steady. Dad traced the wound with one finger, making the blood and the cut disappear. Hunter put his arm up in the air so all could see that the cut was gone and then faded back into the darkness beyond the circle.

The leader leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “Another trick. It just proves that you know magic.”

“Then you suggest a challenge.” Dad stood there, arms at his sides waiting, as the men huddled in a conference. After a while, they went back and sat down wearing identical smirks. The leader did not say anything but seemed to be waiting for something. Dad did not move, but Joel and I looked around wondering what was going to happen.

We did not hear them come until they were almost upon us. A dozen or more leopards dashed into the light. Dad crouched, ready to leap into flight and I cringed, throwing my arms up to ward them off. Joel whistled and one leopard bounded to him, knocking him over. Dad and I reached out to grab the animal but Joel was laughing and rubbing her fur. “Harriet, you lummox, get off my stomach, you weigh a ton.” He grunted as he pushed her off him. The other leopards ran in circles, uncertain what to do. Dad touched them one by one, so my brother and I copied him. The big cats calmed and sat at our feet, with one sitting directly on mine!

“Is this all you can come up with?” It was Dad’s turn to laugh. The baboon men looked annoyed as they got back in a huddle. The lone man just stared at us in wonder.

After a long while, men broke apart and went back to their chairs. “Come back tomorrow, and we will have a more appropriate challenge for you.”

“I accept.” Dad turned away and rose in the air. Joel and I followed. Once we got above the jungle, Joel suggested that we go for a spin. Dad agreed, so outvoted, I tagged along.

We cruised over the stone circle, and saw the smooth stones reflecting the moonlight. We headed east and found Jabulan beside a bend in the river. It was a village of circular huts set in concentric circles with a much larger building in the middle. No one was stirring, but rafts floated off a dock on the river and smoke curled up from a structure that stood alone, a little way from rest of the village. Light streamed from the open sides so we went lower, and spotted a woman adding wood to a fire underneath a large kiln.

She wore a vivid print top and a wrap skirt an equally vivid print, though they did not match each other. A scarf that covered most of her hair was another pattern, with its own intense color and design. She finished her task and vanished back into the darkness, but we heard her begin to sing:

Lady Creator, mother of all,

Thank you for this night, and the sleep you give us,

For the stars and the moons that watch overhead,

Thank you for the day, and the light you bring,

For our willing bodies and the work we do.

Let us be one with your creation

As we use the gift to create ourselves.

Let us see the beauty of every living thing.

Thank you for the land and the sky

Thank you for the plants and the trees

Thank you for the fish in the water

Thank you for the birds that fly

Thank you for the beasts of the land

Let us be one with your creation

As we use the gift to create ourselves.

Her strong and melodious voice floated up to us, as we hovered above her in the dark. I wished I could hear it in her language instead of automatically hearing it in mine. At the end of the song, she did not reappear, so we drifted away and followed the line of the river. It sparkled below us, finally blending into an ocean.

We landed on glowing white sand. The beach stretched for miles, lined with palm trees that waved and whispered in the wind. I heard a splash and my brother was swimming in the glistening ocean. I pulled off my dress and headscarf before leaping in and joining him. I enjoyed the warmth of the water and the fun of swimming in my underwear. Dad sprawled on the sand, watching us and smiling. He was not fond of swimming. Mom was the one who always swam with us, gliding through the water like a seal. I suddenly missed her very much, so I climbed out of the water and sat by Dad.

“I wish Mom were here.”

Dad nodded as he pulled a strand of seaweed out of my wooly hair. “I do, too. Maybe, after I figure out what I’m doing here, I can go back and get her.”

“Really? That would be great.” I splashed back in the water to tell my brother the good news.

We swam for a long time, never getting tired, cold, or thirsty. The sunrise turned the color of the sky to salmon, and Dad called us out of the water, and told us it was time to leave. We flew back to Harun and the flight dried our salt stiffened clothes. No one was there when we arrived, so we slipped inside, unnoticed. We took turns bathing in the big tub and then decked ourselves out in another change of clothes and different jewelry.

When the Harun Directorate arrived at our doorstep, we were standing in the main room ready to go, not sure of what we were going to find.

This is the last chapter that I am posting. For my book, "Travels to Fahdamin-Ra", you can buy it at Navarone Books, Smashwords or Amazon. I will post when it is available in soft cover. Thanks for reading! Navarone Books Link, Smashwords link, Amazon Kindle link

Chapter 6 ~Flying Lessons

2011-09-05T21:30:00.000-04:00

The rain soon stopped, so we accepted Yohance and Jetta's offer to go visit their mother. Joel hesitated a moment at the top of the staircase. "Why did your tribe decide to build the Creator’s place up so high?"

"Obadele, the Third Creator, created a gift to us of our friends, the eagles. We carved this place for him, so that he could see the birds when he was not flying with them." Yohance used his hands as he talked, making graceful, flowing gestures.

"Uh, what do you mean that he flew with the eagles?"

"He flew in the sky with them," Jetta said.

"He actually flew in the air." Joel looked as skeptical as I felt.

"Yes, yes." Yohance was quite excited, "Yes, Councilor, the history specifically and clearly explains how he flew in the air with the eagles. After all, he was a Creator and nothing was impossible for him."

Joel and I exchanged looks, which did not escape Jetta’s notice. "You could fly if you wished to. Perhaps you would like to try?"

"Not here." I answered for us. My brother started to protest, but I went down the stone stairs ignoring his complaints.

Yohance took us on another meandering tour through the city streets until we entered a tunnel with steps leading downward. It led to a warren of rooms, hollowed out of the stone and lit here and there by flickering torches. We crossed a narrow bridge over a placid stream, and met up with Silkworm Grower Sela. She gave us a tour of the dark, dank rooms that had moths darting about. One landed on my hair and rested there several minutes until it flew away again.

Sela and the other workers demonstrated how they fed the worms, and then took us to other rooms to show us the little wooden frames where silkworms wove their silken threads. She led us back upstairs, to reveal where they boiled the cocoons, so they could unravel the threads in preparation for weaving. It was so much fun because Sela explained the basics, and then let Joel and me ask many questions.

It was with reluctance that we left so that Sela could go back to her work. Jetta took the lead as we headed for the northern gate. Joel was anxious to be out in the open, so he could try flying. She guided us through the network of streets, which still looked like a maze to me. As we hurried past endless doorways and windows, someone called out Jetta’s name. We paused as two boys came running up to us. I saw right away that they were identical twins, about seven or eight years old, and wearing short, sleeveless, blue tunics.

"Jetta, hello,” said one. He touched Jetta’s proffered knuckles with his own. His twin stared at us shyly. "Yohance, you’re here, too. Where are you going? Will you take us?"

Jetta and Yohance smiled at him. "These are our young and energetic cousins, Ulan and Pili. They have the distinction of being the first twins in many generations, an immense honor to their parents," Yohance explained. Ulan smiled at us, but Pili kept on staring.

"Boys, these are Councilors Celestine and Joel, who are the Creators that you must have heard about. I am showing them around and Yohance is writing the history of it," Jetta said with a touch of pride. The boys, to my relief, did not kneel down in homage to us. Joel extended his hand in greeting and touched the boy’s knuckles to his. I followed suit.

"Would you like to go with us?" I asked them, seeing twin smiles light up. "Do you need to get permission?"

Pili nodded and dashed away. As he raced back to his home, Jetta called after him, "Tell Grandmother you are going just with Yohance and me." To us, she said, "If he tells Grandmother he is going to accompany the Creators, she will come out and thank you and we will never get thru the gate." Pili came dashing back to us and halted beside his brother. He nodded at us, so we resumed our march.

Ulan walked alongside Joel. "So, you are a Creator?" he asked. "You look like a boy. I thought you would be a tall man. Your skin is not dark, either. Is there something wrong with you, because you are so pale?" Jetta hastened to shush him.

"It’s okay," Joel assured her. He turned his attention to Ulan. "My dad is here with us, and he’s darker, like you, but he is not a tall man. I wish you could meet my Mom. If you think I’m light, you ought to see her. Her skin is the color of the sand by the river, and her hair is smooth and not wooly. You’ve never met anyone like her before, I bet."

I enjoyed watching the twins. After observing the boys for a while, I could tell them apart by their personalities. Ulan was outgoing and inquisitive. He kept shooting questions at Joel, asking him if he’d been to this place or that, whom he’d met, and what he’d seen. Joel kept up a string of answers. I tuned out when Ulan started describing how the eagles kill and bring their fresh meat back to their nests, and then feed it to their youngsters. Pili tagged along, right behind them, listening to every word, but not uttering a sound. Yohance wrote down occasional remarks from Joel, grinning at his nephews all the while. Jetta and I dropped back so we could talk out of earshot.

"Can Pili talk?" I asked.

Jetta nodded. "Oh, yes, he talks. He has an extended vocabulary, but has so much attention on him that he is shy unless he gets to know you. Ulan has an insatiable curiosity, and asks questions day and night. As you’ve observed, he is not the most tactful in his examinations."

I smiled. "I like someone who is not afraid to say what is on their mind. Why do people pay so much attention to them? Because they are twins?"

"Yes, many generations go by without anyone giving birth to twins. We see it as a sign of great favor bestowed upon us. Now, you and your brother are here, two Creators in one generation, which has never happened before. Your arrival is the start of great changes that we have prayed for."

I felt rather overwhelmed, like the feeling of realizing that you are having a big test that you have not prepared for. Then I remembered Dad was with us. I also hoped that the Harun would be patient in helping us catch up on all the lost centuries of information.

The northern gate was less elaborate than the main gate. We passed through it without ceremony to empty fields with brown soil and no plants. The dirt was muddy from the rain, and mud stuck to our feet as we walked toward a grove of trees.

"Where are all the crops?" Joel wondered aloud.

"This field is lying fallow for three harvests. We put nutrients in the soil, then plant again after it has rested and the soil has built up," Yohance said.

Joel decided that he would try flying, so we left him to it and made our way over to the trees. The shade was cool and refreshing. The trees had twisty trunks and smooth green leaves, each one the size of my hand. The twins laughed and chased each other around, as Yohance, Jetta, and I watched my brother’s hilarious efforts.

Joel took running starts and threw himself in the air, but fell repeatedly. He did not appear to be hurt and his endeavors were tireless. He soon became quite muddy, but the dirt did not bother him. I giggled and even Jetta and Yohance laughed, though they covered their mouths each time.

After watching for a while, Yohance could not help it. "Master Joel, you are most courageous and persistent. If I could be permitted to make a humble suggestion,” Yohance continued at Joel's nod, "maybe if you visualize yourself flying, you will fly. At least, that is what The First Creator, Obasi wrote, when he created us in the beginning. He visualized us as he tapped away at the rock and we emerged from the stone."

My brother stopped all movement and closed his eyes. I watched him, noting what an unusual sight it was to see him so still. Then a gap appeared between his feet and the ground. My breath caught as I saw Joel rise in the air. He opened his eyes and let out a whoop, which caused him to drop a few feet until he caught himself. Putting out his arms he flew like a plane, learning at a rapid pace, and soon was looping and whirling against the bright blue sky.

Jetta, Yohance, and I laughed and clapped, and then Joel flew down to me. "C'mon, Sistine. You gotta try this.” He tried to grab my hand and pull me up with him.

"Let go! I want to learn by myself." I walked out to the middle of the field and tried to concentrate. I ignored the sticky earth at my feet and the clamor that my brother was making. I imagined that my feet were leaving the ground and that I was floating, just floating on the breeze like a feather.

When I dared to open my eyes, I was hovering about ten feet up in the air. I gasped and then fell, hitting the mucky ground. Jetta ran up to me. “Councilor Celestine, are you all right?"

I nodded and got up, not hurt at all. We brushed the mud off my dress as best we could and I tried again. After many tries, I floated, but I was shaky and uncomfortable. While my brother flew around me doing somersaults and tricks in the air, I poked along. It was just so strange, adrift with nothing to hold me. I was queasy if I looked at the ground and uneasy when Joel flew by with no effort whatsoever.

The mud dried and fell off us as we flew, leaving no trace of it behind. I began to feel more confident, but I was still cautious. Thank goodness that my brother got the hang of flying, because over toward the trees, we heard someone screaming. I saw Yohance drop his writing paddle and dash into the copse, toward the direction of the twins. From my lofty height I could see them yelling, and pointing up into a tree.

Joel sailed past me and reached the tree in a minute. I saw a flash of tan or gold as the boys scattered and my brother fell to the ground, with something in his arms. The little boys kept screaming as they ran toward Yohance, who picked them both up.

I fumbled through the sky, reaching the tree at the same time as Jetta, who raced there from the field. Joel was just standing up, alongside a leopard, which he must have caught in mid air.

"Joel, are you crazy? Get away from that animal," I yelled, taken aback by his actions.

My brother just stood there with a dopey expression on his face, his hand patting the leopard’s head. The big cat saw me and growled, but Joel beckoned me closer. "It’s okay, she won’t hurt you. See? She likes me." The leopard sat down beside him and leaned against his leg.

"Wasn't she going to leap on the boys when you caught her? What makes you think she won’t attack you?"

"Celestine, she must feel my power. If we are Creators, then we rule over all the animals, too. Come closer and pet her," he coaxed as I edged nearer. "Put your hand on her head and let her feel you." I put my hand on the leopard’s head and was surprised at how hot she felt. Closing my eyes, I connected with her and felt her wildness, while at the same time, her calmness. Her animal brain was fascinating to me and I stood for several minutes, working my way through it.

I opened my eyes and patted her. She was not as soft as I expected her to be. Her face looked wild but distinguished, with exotic markings. The animal had large feet, fur covering her dreadful claws.

Joel kissed the top of her head and she started to purr. "I decided to name her Harriet," he stated matter-of-factly, as if he had just received a fluffy new kitten.

"Harriet?" I said. Now that I knew he was all right, I was furious with Joel. "How did you know she wasn't going to kill you? You are taking too many risks! What’s next? Wrestling crocodiles in the river?" I saw his eyes light up at that suggestion. Oh great, I thought, that’s all my little brother needed, more ideas. I hate tattle-tales, but I planned to tell my dad when we got back to the city. There was more I wanted say, but Joel was admiring Harriet, so I knew it was a waste of time to give him more warnings. Yohance was writing at a fast pace, making notes. Jetta and the boys stood nearby, staring at Joel and the leopard in awe.

"We aren't going to make Harriet tame are we, Joel? She won’t walk up to some hunter after this?" I asked.

He considered it for a moment. "No, I don’t think that will happen, because she knows you and I are special. She might approach Dad, because he’s a Creator, too. If she saw our friends without us around, she might attack them if she were hungry." He lowered his voice. "All wild animals think kids are easy targets. Ulan and Pili are okay as long as they are with us."

A sharp whistle echoed through the still air. Harriet lifted her head, and darted to Hunter, who stood beside a nearby tree. "What are you doing with my animal?"

"Just admiring her. She belongs to you?" Joel questioned him.

"All leopards belong to the Masamba. They were gifts to the jungle people, created for them by the Second Creator, Adanna, the supernatural and mysterious." Yohance answered for Hunter.

Hunter gave a mocking bow to the Harun man, saying, "What brings you inquisitive children out beyond the city?" At first, I thought he meant Ulan and Pili, but then I realized that he was referring to Joel and me. I bristled at someone calling me a child.

"We were out here, saving these little boys from being attacked by your beast."

"A leopard is a leopard, and they must act by their instincts," he said, as he rubbed Harriet’s side.

"Are you going hunting?" asked Jetta. She was looking at the band around his head, which held little feathered darts with their points sticking up.

"Yes, now is when we hunt." Hunter pointed to the sun, which was starting to go down, in a bed of orange and purple clouds.

"Well, let's go, too. I want to see a leopard hunt," Joel said. Hunter shook his head and turned away. Joel rose into the air and hovered twenty feet over the man. "If Harriet wants to get an antelope, there's a small herd over that way," he informed everyone, pointing to the right.

If Hunter was surprised to see my brother in the air, he kept his face impassive as he looked up. "Thank you, but we do not need any help." He started to walk away,

We followed him anyway. He looked back at us, and then stared at Jetta, who smiled and promised, "The Creators are curious. We will all be silent."

All of us looked at Ulan, who retorted, "I can be quiet."

"You had better be, or you must leave," Hunter said as a warning. He turned and followed Harriet, who headed for the antelope herd. Joel floated overhead, but I stayed on the ground. Hunter trod silently, but the rest of us walked too noisily, which caused him to turn around and glare at us from time to time. Soon, we came to a rise where Hunter motioned to us to hide behind some rocks. The antelope stood in the long, yellow grass. Hunter and Harriet slid down the slope and crept away until they disappeared into the grassy sea. I wished that I had chosen to fly overhead like Joel, so I could see what was happening.

Nothing changed for a long while, and then some of the antelope lifted their heads and moved restlessly, sensing danger. The grass shook as the leopard darted to the edge of the herd, and they scattered in panic. A small buck started running, but the grass was too tall to see Harriet behind him. It darted over to the right as Hunter popped up out of the grass and threw some darts at the antelope. One stuck in the middle of the buck’s neck, but the animal kept running and swerved to get away from Hunter.

The animal did not go much further, before it fell. Hunter and Harriet walked up to the spot where it dropped. Joel floated down to the ground beside them. We took that as a signal to come out of hiding, and we walked through the grass.

The animal was dead. It died with its eyes open, which was creepy and sad at the same time. Joel sighed. "If the buck had to die, at least it died fast. What was in that dart? Was it poison?"

Hunter cocked an eyebrow. "Do you think my people would eat a poisoned animal?" When we stood there, waiting for an answer, he said, "It is a secret that my people discovered ages ago," and that was all he would say.

Hunter wasted no time in searching around until he found two long limbs. He cleared the branches from them, and then unhitched a coiled rope from his belt, and began to tie the animal on top of the poles. We watched, fascinated. Then he picked up one end and hoisted the poles onto his shoulders. He walked at a rapid pace, pulling the animal along behind him.

We marched along, the boys whooping and running before us until we reached the edge of the jungle. It was getting dark now and soon we would not be able to see. Hunter put the poles down. "I hope this satisfies your curiosity," said the Masamba man. It was his way of dismissing us.

"But don’t you need help to get the antelope home through the jungle?" I wanted to know. He turned and motioned to Harriet, who bounded into the underbrush and disappeared from sight.

Jetta moved closer to Hunter, giving him her loveliest smile and he grinned a little in return. "Thank you for the interesting experience of showing us how you hunt."

"You are welcome," he said, looking at Jetta, then beyond her to the rest of us. "I hope you will leave now. Some of my tribesmen are coming and they would not understand why I am here with you." This time, Hunter sounded a little less curt.

"Goodbye then, and thanks," I said, as Yohance and Joel echoed me.

"I had fun. You are so brave and you tricked that antelope," said Ulan. "We want to see you again. My brother and I could help you next time."

Hunter smiled at the boy and grasped his shoulder. "I will look for you. Now, will you and your brother be brave warriors and escort everyone back home?"

"Yes," Ulan said, grasping Jetta's hand. He took mine, but his eyes widened in shock when he touched me. "Your hand is so warm and you are buzzing, like a bee."

Pili reached over and took Joel's hand. "Yes, I feel it, too," he said in a soft, wondering voice.

The Masamba man looked grave, and I wondered if he was thinking about when Dad touched him. My assumption was correct, because he automatically put his hand on the spot where his wound had been.

We turned away and Jetta was last to go. Joel and I could see well in the dark, so we led the others to the road. As we found our way home in the twilight, the three moons rose, one after another.

Chapter 5 ~ Awesome Creators

2011-09-04T08:16:00.000-04:00

The massive bridge and its stone guardians impressed Dad. I could hear him asking questions that the Tribe Historian was anxious to answer. I blocked out the annoying drone of Rudo’s voice as I saw the people streaming out of the city up ahead.

As we got closer, King Zayas and Dad took the lead. When the people sighted them, they began pointing and talking excitedly. Zayas raised his arms over his head, and my father followed suit. The crowd knelt, throwing out colorful pieces of fabric for us to walk on.

We entered the city, where the noise was deafening as it bounced off the rock walls. Every Harun was present and knelt as we passed. We trickled through the crowded streets until we arrived at the stone temple. The king directed my father to sit outside the entrance, on a stone that served as a stool. It sat at the top of the temple steps, with two smaller blocks set on either side for Joel and me. Fresh guards appeared, stretching a purple awning over our heads.

I felt important, and loved being the center of attention, at least at first. We soon discovered that they expected us to sit, while Zayas, Rudo, and Anon introduced an endless line of people. Kayin stayed far away from me, and he busied himself arranging those in line. We met the five stripe men first because they were the most important, and then worked our way through others of lesser rank.

It was tedious, and Joel was the first to look cross and fidgety. Even Dad grew quiet and more solemn as the introductions progressed. Maybe this was one of the things he was afraid would happen if he came to Fahdamin-Ra. I felt like falling off my stool just to jar myself awake.

“Where are the women?” I blurted out to the king. “You say that you want us to meet your tribe, but all we see are men.” This time, Dad agreed with me as he looked at Zayas.

A strange emotion passed over the leader’s face, but he motioned for some of the women in the back of the crowd to come to us. The first one, a dignified woman in a purple hat, he introduced as his wife, Queen Adama. She bowed and moved on without speaking, her eyes downcast.

Rudo’s wife was a surprise; a pretty, though unhappy looking woman, young enough to be his daughter. The line stalled as Rudo went on about his wife’s lineage, until Zayas looked annoyed and the tedious historian moved on to introduce the next woman.

At that point, Dad stood up, and announced, “I am glad to know all the people of this city, but it would be more meaningful to meet them in their workplaces, while seeing what they do.”

Zayas clapped his hands and ordered everyone to go to work, though the next people standing in line must have been disappointed. Joel and I were so relieved to get up and move around, that it was hard to feel sorry for them. Rudo was at Dad’s elbow, steering him inside the temple, so my brother and I followed.

Sudi came over to greet my father. He was delighted to see Joel again, and expressed congratulations to me, after discovering that I was a Creator, too. “The sun has come up on a new day, indeed,” he said. “It fulfills the prophecy of the three; the father, the son, and the daughter. It was foretold that they would come together and make changes in the land.”

A prophecy about the three of us? It was a weird feeling to consider this. As tall men crowded around, I saw Yohance on the fringes of the group, so I waved. He beamed back at me. By now, there was a crowd in the temple consisting of historians, guards, and the royals.

It was a relief when my father decided to go outside, but the bunch from the temple followed us. Taking Joel’s and my hands, he started to walk away, but the men were right on our heels, so Dad turned to address them.

“Gentlemen, I would like to have everyone behave as if my children and I were not here. Please let us be free to browse around unaccompanied. I have so much to see and learn, and would appreciate the time to look around at my own pace."

Everyone's eyes went to King Zayas. It was impossible to tell from his stony expression if he was hurt, annoyed, or angry. “Yes, my lord, it shall be as you desire. Please let the Tribe Historian go about with you, so that he can record your doings for our history, and assist you.” Rudo smiled and stepped forward.

“Wait! Dad, I saw Yohance, and he writes stuff down. Can’t he go with us instead?” I jumped in, daring Rudo or Zayas to disagree. “See, he’s the young guy in the back. I met him before. He’s helpful and nice.” I waved to Yohance, who waved back, and then Dad spotted him.

“Yes, that’s fine with me. I am sure Tribe Historian Rudo has many important tasks to do. Yohance, would you come here, please?” The young man threaded his way to us. He carried a paddle with paper attached and held a writing utensil ready.

My father turned back to the Harun monarch. “Thank you so much, King Zayas, for all that you have done to make us feel so welcome. My children and I will enjoy ourselves, and will see you later.”

The king dipped his head. “If one would acquire knowledge of an eagle, one must climb the cliffs, not just study a feather. Please call on me, or any of my men, well, anyone of my tribe, and we will assist you at any time. Historical Scribe Yohance will record your observations, and everything that you Creators say and do. You may read his writings at any time, to check for accuracy.” It sounded like a threat to Yohance, but Dad just nodded, smiled, and turned away.

“Lead on, Yohance. You will also double as our tour guide.”

Yohance wrinkled his brow in puzzlement, and then smiled as he walked backwards. “I must confess that I do not know what this 'tour guide' is, but I will take you to wherever you wish to go. What is your desire, my mysterious and glorious Creators?”

“Let’s go explore the savannah,” said Joel. That sounded like fun, but Dad shook his head.

“Not so far away. Yohance, please take us to the fields that we passed on the way in.” Our guide nodded, and in one graceful movement, spun on his heel and started down a street. Not as many people were about, so we walked along with ease and arrived at the main gate much sooner than I expected. People still gawked at us, but no one said anything as we stepped through the arch.

I felt the welcome breeze on my face, as we headed along the road. From the city to the bridge, there was a paved road of nicely fitted stone. Yohance soon veered off and went through the neat rows of plants. He saw a woman carrying a basket of leaves, and called out a greeting to her when he was near. She was not wearing the earth-toned stripes like the other farmers, and her dress was longer, with four stripes of gray, white, and two shades of blue. Her hat was a blue scarf with three knots tied in it, one at the front and one on either side. Balancing her basket on a hip, she waved to our guide, but knelt on the soft ground between the rows as we approached. Spying us, some farmers nearby copied her.

“Please, everyone, if you would stand, then I could have the pleasure of seeing your faces,” Dad said with a smile. The people rose, gazing at us with uncertainty.

“My Lord Councilor Raymond, I wish to introduce you and your children to my mother, Silkworm Grower Sela.”

It was easy to see where Yohance got his dazzling smile and his sister, Jetta, her beauty. Their mother was elegant, with slanted eyes and arched brows, which reminded me of a cat. “Master Creator, what a welcome sight all three of you are for our longing Harun eyes. I have heard that both your children are Creators?” News traveled fast.

“Yes, Silkworm Grower Sela. It appears that this is the first time two Creators were ever born in the same generation. All this is new to us, and we are looking forward to learning more about this world and its entire people.”

“Some people have impressed us with their kindness right away - like Yohance. I have asked if he could record our history,” I said.

Sela smiled at me as she responded to our father. "You are so kind. I am honored to see him in your presence."

“We are glad to have him accompany us, though I must think of something profound to say so I can satisfy Tribe Historian Rudo,” Dad joked. “Please, would you share with me how you grow silkworms?”

She was pleased that he asked. “We grow them in caves, where it is dark and damp. I pick leaves every day to feed them, such as these that I have in my basket.”

“What do you use silk for?” questioned Joel.

“Royalty and the important tribal members are the only ones who wear silk. Of course, now that you Creators are here, we will be making silk outfits for you. I am so delighted to meet all of you, but my silkworms need these leaves, and I beg that you understand that I must go.”

We said goodbye to Sela and she left, after extracting a promise from us to come visit her in the caves, where she would show us the silkworm production. Joel was interested and I hoped we would go there next because it sounded so interesting and she was so nice.

After Sela left, Dad turned his attention to the farmers that edged closer to us. “What do you grow out here? I have never seen such carefully attended fields.” The farmers surged forward, and began showing us their crops. In no time, we felt as if we’d always been part of their lives.

Dad, Joel, and I recognized peppers, tomatoes, onions, and different kinds of melons. The Harun farmers knew so much about farming, and they grew a huge variety of crops, including vegetables that I had never seen before. Besides food, they showed us fields of cotton, and plants that they used to make dyes. The growers were proud of their irrigation system, taking great pains to explain how they watered their crops by using the river. We must have spent hours looking over the fields, but it was educational in a fun way, because they told fascinating stories about wild rainstorms or endless droughts. We never realized how many animals and pests the farmers had to fight off to protect their crops. I thought how hard their life must be at times, but they took it as a challenge they were unafraid to face.

It was getting along toward midday when we took a break and sat in the shade of the stone bridge. Joel was tossing rocks in the murky brown water, when he stopped abruptly. I saw what he was staring at and nudged Dad, who was talking to Yohance beside him.

At the edge of the fields, Harun guards appeared to be holding a man as their prisoner. It was hard to make out his features from a distance, but he was not dressed like a Harun, and his hands were tied together as he was led along. A guard brought up the rear, clutching the arm of a Harun girl in a red dress, who was struggling to free herself.

“Jetta!” said Yohance, who leaped to his feet. “What are they doing with her?” We all got up and started to run along the road.

The guards disappeared through a side gate in the city walls, but we kept to the road, dashing through the main gate in record time. Yohance took the lead, his scribe paddle bouncing against his leg. We had to slow down a bit as we navigated the city streets.

Yohance led us to the main plaza, in front of the tall, imposing building to the left of the temple. Jetta and the prisoner knelt on its bottom step, while King glowered at them from the doorway, a dozen steps above. Sudi was pleading in his son’s ear, but the king’s eyes glittered like stones, and he was not hearing a word his father said.

Dad pulled us into a nearby shop, where we could listen and observe. Yohance jotted down notes faster than he had all morning. Joel and I stared at the prisoner.

He looked as if he were in his twenties, and he was scantily dressed. His clothing consisted of two flaps of zebra skin, held up by a wide leather belt, one each in the front and back. Unlike the barefoot Harun, he wore sturdy leather sandals. Odd green areas splotched his torso, arms, and face. The stranger's build was shorter and more muscular than the Harun. His nose was longer and wider, and his skin was a lighter brown. The most unusual thing was his hair. Shaved close on the sides and a few inches long on top, it had black and white tufts woven into it.

Zayas waved his father away and told the prisoners to rise. Jetta rose at once, but the man took his time and then stood in a casual stance. “Masamba prisoner, what is your name?” The man remained silent. “I command you to tell me your name,” commanded the king, but the man spat on the ground before him. The king took a few steps toward to the prisoner until he was an arm’s length away. “Your insolence and defiance are what I have come to expect from your people. Why were you trying to kidnap this girl from my tribe?” The prisoner just continued to stare at Zayas.

The king gave a tiny nod and a guard from behind the prisoner kicked the Masamba’s legs out from under him, making the man’s head crash into the steps as he fell. Zayas put his foot on the prisoner's head, holding it down as the guard touched the point of his sword to the helpless man’s back. “I can put all my weight on your head and crush it like a melon,” taunted the king. "Shall I do that now or will you talk?” Two guards held Jetta as she begged Zayas to let the man go. Ignoring her, the monarch nodded to another guard who brought out a whip. “Perhaps a whipping will help you find your tongue. You will tell us everything we need to know, starting with where you are holding my missing people.” The king stepped back and the guard raised the whip.

Dad brushed past me and ran to the Masamba man. Zayas’s gaze centered only on the prisoner and he smiled, his eyes triumphant as the sound of the first lash cracked in the air. My father grabbed the whip before it slashed the prisoner and yanked it out of the startled guard’s hand. “There will be no whipping today or any day in the future, Zayas. We need to go somewhere private and talk about this.”

His eyes blazing, the king nodded and led the way into the building. Dad helped the wounded man to his feet, and motioned for Jetta to come, too. Of course, Joel, Yohance, and I followed them. We entered a narrow, dark hall and went into the first room on the left. It had a long stone table and benches. Jetta and the Masamba man took their seats on the far side as she examined the swelling, bleeding gash on her companion’s head. Her friend stared at the wall over our heads, behaving as if the cut was minor while the blood trickled down his face.

"Would you like me to help with that?" my father asked.

The wounded man smirked at him. "I don’t think you can."

My father was calm as he walked around the table and pulled out a clean cotton handkerchief. When he touched the Masamba’s head, the prisoner flinched at the contact. My dad’s face lit up in wonder as the wound and the blood disappeared. The man stayed there unmoving, while Dad untied his hands and then returned to the other side of the table, sitting beside Zayas. The rest of us stood against the wall. Joel and I aimed to be inconspicuous and Yohance just stood there, absorbed in his writing.

“I do not know what has gone on here before, but I know that nothing is solved by beating another person. If you,” Dad nodded to the Masamba,”don’t want to give your name, then give us something to call you.”

“Call me Hunter.” He had a deep, smooth voice.

“Yes, thank you, Hunter. King Zayas, why did your men feel that they needed to capture Hunter?”

“We have been plagued for some years now with kidnappings. He was trying to abduct this young woman and we stopped him.”

“He was not kidnapping me,” Jetta announced. “We are, well, friends.”

“Then you ought to be punished for associating with the enemy,” the king snapped at her, glowering from beneath his furrowed brow.

“Wait! What is going on? Why should anyone be punished for making friends with people from other tribes?” Dad asked Zayas.

The king pursed his lips, unaccustomed to explaining himself. Jetta spoke up instead. “Our tribal leaders think the Masamba are responsible for the mysterious disappearance of some of our people. I tell you that the Masamba have nothing to do with it.”

"The Masamba are bloodthirsty and deceitful. We have to distance ourselves from them and their wicked ways. This silly girl knows this, yet she willingly associates with such people," said Zayas.

“I fail to see why it matters who I interact with as I am soon to be banished.” Jetta glared with great loathing at the king.

“Banished to where?” Dad questioned. There was a lot going on that he needed to learn about.

After a moment of hesitation, the king explained. “We have a place...my Lord. I must state that we were a lost people facing dark times, trying to get along without the divine guidance of our Creators. We sent people who are problematic, who don't fit in, to a small village where they will not be a menace to society.”

“They sound like criminals. Why would you send Jetta there?”

“She is a criminal. Jetta refuses to obey our laws.”

Dad turned to Jetta. “Was making friends with Hunter the only crime that you committed?”

“No, I also did not marry the king’s son as they ordered me to.” Joel and I looked at each other in astonishment. No wonder Kayin hated Jetta; she refused to marry him. “I am considered too rebellious for a woman and this is how they deal with me,” Jetta proclaimed, beautiful and defiant, while Hunter gazed at her with unconcealed admiration.

Dad stood up and the rest followed suit. “Hunter, I am going to send you back to your tribe. King Zayas, please have someone accompany him until he leaves Harun lands, so that no one will harm or hinder him. Hunter, my children and I will come to visit you soon.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Hunter stood up, glanced at Jetta, and then he left. Zayas hurried out to give orders to the guards. When the king returned, Dad addressed him. “We will go see the village where these banished people live. You will accompany me, as well as your advisers and the prince. We can leave now.”

Zayas became so tense that his face looked like stone. He gave a stiff bow saying, “As it pleases Your Greatness. It is going to rain soon, but if my Highest Lord would like to go immediately, I can make arrangements.”

“Well, if it is going to rain, let us start first thing tomorrow morning.”

The king nodded, his solemn face hiding his thoughts. There was an awkward silence until he said, “In the meantime, would the Councilor like to review Harun and Creator history in the Temple?”

Dad’s face lit up, but Jetta implored, “May I stay with your children?”

“Of course,” Dad said. Seeing Jetta glance at the king, he added, “You have my protection Jetta, so that you may go anywhere you please without anyone bothering you.” Jetta relaxed and smiled as my father continued, “Yohance, since I will be at the Temple reading, you could stay with my children, if you would like to continue noting events.” Yohance gave a small bow in reply.

With that, Dad followed Zayas out the door.

Jetta and Yohance smiled at each other and us, too. “Would you like to see your apartment?” Jetta asked us.

“We have an apartment?” I asked.

“Yes, our master builders designed a place for Creators to use during visits. We keep them fresh and ready," Yohance said.

“Let’s go.” Joel was already moving out the door. Jetta led us across the plaza as people stopped and stared. We trailed behind her as she began mounting a steep staircase chiseled out beside the temple. I felt nervous because there were many steps that led straight up with no landings. As scary as it was to climb up the stairs, I kept wondering what it would be like to descend them.

At last, we reached the top. A narrow portico ran across the front of the building and followed along the sides. The graceful columns looked like budding flowers with long stems, their unopened blossoms at the top. In the middle loomed a tall doorway decorated with an elegant curtain of colored silk, which fluttered in the breeze. The gleaming gold and bright touches of jewel toned paint set off the dark stone of the walls and columns.

We all turned around to view the city below. It was not a wide, sweeping vista, that would be expected from such a height. Tops of other buildings and higher spires of stone impeded the sight, so most of our view consisted of mountain peaks. Large birds flew overhead or perched on sharp crags. They blended well because their dark brown backs were the same color as the mountain. Their white breasts had spots of brown, as if they were wearing a polka dot shirt under a dark jacket. Some sat on untidy nests of sticks that rested on jutting ledges or hollows in the rock.

"Look over there." Joel pointed to the left. A mature bird flew with its young, soaring above our heads. The older bird had a curvy beak, which looked familiar, as did its long tail. "They are the birds carved on the box." We watched them flying until they went out of sight.

"They are called Mansa eagles, and are the most powerful bird in the world. They nest in our mountains and act as out guardians, always keeping watch. The eagles alerted the guards when you arrived yesterday morning," Jetta said. She turned and walked in the building, so we followed her.

It was cool and quiet inside, in contrast to the heat outside and the bustling noises of the marketplace. We entered an elaborate main room with intricate murals of trees, flowers, and animals on one wall, and the open portico on the others. With a few large potted plants in ornate pots and some stone benches, the room had the warmth of a museum lobby.

Outside, the sun disappeared behind a cloud and the wind picked up. "I think it will rain in short order," Yohance said. "This is the perfect time to acquaint our new Creators with this special and ancient place."

"It is impressive," I said. "Could we see the whole apartment?" Two more doorways led to rooms beyond, of which I caught a glimpse.

"Of course, my Holy Ones. Let me show you where everything is." Jetta guided us though the apartment, telling us that young women took turns cleaning and preparing it, which was an honor. All the rooms had sparse furniture and most looked the same. None of the rooms had doors, but some had strips of silk hanging in the doorways, similar to the main entrance.

My favorite room was the Treasure Room. It was long with a window at one end. All sorts of gold and jeweled items rested on beds of purple silk laid on shelves. We stayed there a long time examining the gold jewelry, dishes, statues, and other items. Both Joel and I selected necklaces and bracelets to wear. I chose some bangles to put on my arms, while Joel put two wider ones with jewels on his ankles. My necklace was a large leopard pendent with green stones for eyes. Joel selected a good-sized eagle pendent, the golden wings of which spread out across his chest. Jetta and Yohance admired our jewelry, but we could not persuade them to try any themselves.

There was a bathroom, a good-sized room, with only a massive stone tub in the middle. Beautiful murals of a river adorned the walls, which were lit by narrow openings near the ceiling. "Creator Zareb, the Great Philosopher, requested the tub so he could have a quiet place to think. After that, all Harun homes had a large tub added to them. Soaking in warm water clears the mind, leading to great meditations," Yohance said.

We could hear the rain outside now, when we meandered back to the main room. Jetta and Yohance brought out huge, purple silk pillows for us to sit on.

"Your mother grows silkworms, but what does your father do?" I asked.

Jetta smiled. "Mistress Celestine, he has a remarkable occupation where he designs and crafts things out of gold."

"Jewelry?"

"Yes, my lady. Our father is a Master Goldsmith."

"Wow!" Joel said. "How did he get a great job like that?"

"Master Joel, my father showed an aptitude for it when he was a boy and learned much from his father, who was a goldsmith before him. When he was a young man, he mined for the gold. As he got older, he learned how to refine the metal and then mastered the skill of working with it. When he is an Elder, he will teach younger men his craft and pass on his knowledge."

"How old do you have to be to get a job?"

Jetta's smile wavered a little and she gave her brother a look. “When you reach sixteen harvests you are grown enough to start a trade, Lord Joel," Yohance said. "The City Director decides what job you will have, determined by your abilities."

"So, Jetta, do you have a job?" I wanted to know.

She smiled, though her eyes looked sad. "I was training to be a healer, Creator Celestine. The apprentices start out learning what herbs and roots to collect. I loved leaving the city walls, going out in the fields and woods."

"Is that how you met Hunter?" My new friend bowed her head in embarrassment and nodded.

"I can’t believe that they told you to marry Kayin," Joel said.

Yohance smiled, but quickly clapped his hand over his mouth.

"Well, I don’t blame you for turning him down," I announced, then proceeded to tell them how I changed Kayin into a pig. When Joel and I began laughing, our new acquaintances joined us, though they giggled behind their hands.

After we calmed down, I realized that it explained Kayin’s reaction to Jetta the day before. "So, Jetta, did you say no because Kayin is an obnoxious pain, or is it because Hunter is mysterious and brave?"

She smiled as she said, "It is because of both reasons." She then became solemn. “Someday, I hope you get to know Hunter and become his friend. In his tribe, they do not welcome outsiders and will not tell you their names until they trust you."

"I won't breathe a word, if you and Yohance will just talk to us like regular people, without all the formalities." My brother nodded in agreement.

"I will endeavor to follow your command, Councilors." Yohance got up and bowed.

"I would like that. You honor us, and we shall never forget it," Jetta said.

Chapter 4 ~ More Discoveries

2011-09-02T10:10:00.000-04:00

My parents ran to us and hugged us. “What happened to you? There was a bright light and then you both disappeared," Dad said. Spotting the necklace with the stone still around Joel’s neck, my father pulled it off my brother, tossing it on the counter as if it were a venomous snake.

“Dad, that stone is great. It took us to Fahdamin-Ra, just like the poem said,” Joel explained. “Fahdamin-Ra is a world and there are people there. They want us to come back and to bring you.”

My parents looked confused and bewildered, and then everyone started talking at once. “STOP, EVERYBODY, STOP!” The events of the morning were too much for my father. We all became silent, shocked that Dad had raised his voice. “All right now. We will sit down calmly and you will tell us, one at a time, what happened.”

I let Joel talk first, only interjecting comments when there was a detail he missed. Neither of us mentioned the leopard. When we ran out of things to tell, my parents sat there looking at each other. "It would be hard to believe your story, except for the fact that I saw you both disappear from in front of us. I don’t understand how you could have accomplished all that when you were gone only five minutes."

"We have been gone for hours, Dad," Joel said, baffled as well.

We all puzzled over that, but no one could come up with a satisfactory answer.

Mom examined Joel’s eagle figurine, which sat on the counter where he placed it. “Where did you get that? It looks like solid gold and real jewels. It is beautiful workmanship.”

“King Zayas gave them to me after I cured his father.”

Dad peered at it, too. “You know, Valerie, I think this is real gold. It certainly feels heavy enough to be. Did you notice that this bird design is similar to the one on the box? This is an extremely valuable piece of art to give to a twelve-year-old boy.”

“Not if they think I am a Creator,” Joel argued. “Dad, you have to come. They said that one person in each generation is a Creator, and if you are an only child, you must be one yourself. C'mon with us. You have to see it.” Our father stared solemnly and rubbed his face. “Dad, we need to get going,” Joel urged. "We told King Zayas and everyone that we would be right back."

“This is so crazy. If what you say is true, then we should not interfere. We can’t drop into another world and start healing people and getting involved. I think we should leave well enough alone."

“But what about our promise to the King? He is waiting for us.” I thought of all the people we met that morning and I couldn’t let them down without a fight.

Dad shrugged his shoulders. "What right do we have to interfere in their lives? Who do we think we are?"

"You are a Creator," Joel debated, his cute brown face looking fierce. "In the Temple, they have statues of all the Creators before us. They must be our ancestors. Don’t you want to learn about them?”

“They also wrote down the history. You’d like to read all about their history, which is part of ours, too. Wouldn't you, Dad?” I pleaded.

"Raymond, as much as I have misgivings about you and the kids going to this place, you need to go. Now that you know what the stone can do, how can you not travel to Fahdamin-Ra? You have the verse to get there, and the one to get back. If you don't like it, you can leave any time you want," Mom persuaded, as excited as my brother and me.

Dad sighed at our combined cajoling. “You are right. Let me have the stone, please."

"Wait!" I exclaimed. "We should change our clothes first, so we look more regal. We need to pack some extra things, because we don't know how long we will be staying.” Everyone thought it was a good idea, so Joel and I ran upstairs to change into our African clothing. I was looking forward to returning in clothes that would not brand me as a stranger.

I decided on my solid purple dress. It had narrow bands of red and gold printed fabric around the neck, hem, and sleeves, but looked similar to what that girl Jetta was wearing. While I slipped on my sandals and struggled to tie the red, purple, and gold striped scarf around my head, I could hear Dad complaining in the other room.

“I can’t go to a strange world in my nightshirt and pajama bottoms. I’ll look silly."

“No one will know that it’s pajamas if you don’t tell them. Isn’t it lucky that I bought those lengths of Kente cloth on sale and sewed you three nightshirts? There. You look quite African," Mom tried to reassure my father.

I went into the attic and found three canvas duffel bags. I gave one each to Joel and my father, and then packed mine. I went into the bathroom to get my toothbrush and personal items. Joel packed quickly and came out of his room. He looked quite nice and I told him so. His tunic of multi-striped fabric had red, square designs sprinkled on it. The purple sash Kayin gave him was arranged over his right shoulder, though it clashed with his clothing. Contrary to Harun fashion, he wore black cotton pants and sandals on his feet.

Mom sailed by us to get Dad’s toiletries, and she smiled. "You both look great. Did you remember your combs and clean underwear?" As we nodded, she asked, "Do you have toothbrushes and toothpaste, too?"

“I don’t think they have toothbrushes, Mom," Joel said.

“Well, pack them anyway, and hide them so no one sees them."

I followed Mom into my parent’s room. Dad was adjusting his Kofi, a traditional African hat. Mom had sewn it from midnight blue velvet and embroidered golden suns on it. The suns glittered because of little golden beads she’d sewn into them. My father wore his white nightshirt with designs that reminded me of amoebas. Like Joel, he wore cotton pants and sandals.

I untied my scarf and asked Mom to retie it, which she did like an expert. Everyone paused for a moment when it looked as if we were ready to go. Mom hugged and kissed each of us, then stood across the room. Fear and worry haunted her eyes, but she looked cheerful, as if she sent her family off to another world every day. Joel and I each put an arm around my Dad, as he put on the necklace. I held out the verse and we all recited it. The stone glowed, and then filled the room with iridescent light. Suddenly, the room was gone and we were floating in a serene, radiant glow, as if in a dream.

Feeling the stone surface of the circle pressing against the soles of my sandals, I could tell we had arrived at Fahdamin-Ra. It was night, the area lit by the illumination of torches. I recognized King Zayas and Prince Kayin, standing at the edge of the circle. Guards, the irritating Tribe Historian Rudo, and an older man accompanied them.

I looked at Dad and I could see surprise and wonder on his face in the pale light. “I think you will have to make physical contact with one of them, so that you can pick up their language," I murmured. “Maybe you should touch the king; he’s the one in the purple hat.” My father nodded, as Joel stepped forward and addressed Zayas, who was first to reach us. “Hello, King Zayas. I am sorry it took so long for us to return. We have brought our father with us.”

“Please do not apologize, Creator Joel,” King Zayas reassured him. “Is it not said that men serve the Creators, not the other way around? We are humbly grateful to you for the honor that you have bestowed upon us by your return." He bowed and the others copied him. Then his eyes darted past Joel to settle on Dad.

Smiling, my father walked confidently to the king and touched the side of his head. Zayas gasped as his body gave an involuntary jolt. He and the other Harun sank to their knees in awe, bowing their heads.

Dad glanced back at us, incredulous, and we looked encouragingly at him. When he turned his attention back to the men, he acknowledged them with the bearing of a Supreme Being. "Please rise King Zayas and tribal members of Harun. My name is Raymond, and on behalf of my ancestors, I apologize for the lapse between visits. Thank you for the kindness with which you treated my children when they visited earlier.” The Harun rose as my father spoke. They kept stealing glances at him while keeping their heads slightly bowed.

"Look at that!" Joel called out, pointing up to the sky. For the first time, I saw three moons above us. One looked like our moon, with a larger moon above it, and the smallest moon, a shade of orange, hung to the right of the others.

Our Harun entourage looked up. "What is it about the sky that interests you, Councilor Joel?" said Kayin, mystified.

"You have three moons?" my brother said.

"Yes, we call them Baba, Arakunrin, and Arabinrin. The Father, the Brother, and the Sister." He paused as he realized the significance of the names in relation to us. "Are moons different in your world?"

"Yes, we have one moon, about the size of The Brother. Seeing three is unusual for us, and beautiful," Dad said. We all stood and gazed upward for a few moments, and then Zayas took charge.

"Councilor Raymond, please indulge me as I humbly introduce my faithful son and heir, Prince Kayin," he declared. Kayin gave an elegant bow and stood proudly before my father. Next, Zayas indicated two men who stood beside him. "May I acquaint you with Anon, our City Director, who is most wise and efficient? This is Rudo, Master Tribe Historian, who is the most knowledgeable man in all matters concerning the history of Harun. These two men and I make up the City Directorate." The men gave short bows as Zayas said their names. Anon, who was stooped with age, had heavy eyelids that gave the impression that he was bored or sleepy. I again wondered if Rudo’s lips could close over his buckteeth. Zayas did not introduce the guards who carried swords, bows, and arrows. They stayed in the background with no expectation of being introduced.

"Dad, are we going to visit the Harun City now?" my brother pleaded, ever impatient when standing still.

“I would be happy to leave anytime. Shall we go right now, or would it be better to wait until dawn?" Dad asked Zayas.

"We could leave now if His Holiness wishes." Zayas waited politely for Dad’s response. When my father gave a tentative nod, the king proclaimed, "The guards will light your way." Two guards started along the path, and Dad fell into step with the king. As the rest of us began pairing up to follow, I stopped and looked behind me, trying to see into the darkness. I did not know if it was a sound, or if I felt somebody there, but I was sure there was someone watching us. I started to call to my dad, but he was gone. Only two guards remained, impatient to leave. I ran to catch up to Joel, who walked beside Kayin, and I followed close behind them.

"It looks different at night," Joel said. “The moons make everything look silver."

“I never leave the safety of the city at night, so this is new for me as well,” the prince answered.

"Think of all the animals that are out there right now. It would be great to explore the fields and jungle in the dark, without those lanterns. They interfere with your night vision." As Joel finished speaking, Kayin motioned the guards to go ahead, so we were in darkness. Our trio walked slower, until we trailed far behind the rest of the men.

“Prince Kayin, why does everyone wear striped clothing in Harun?” asked Joel.

Kayin was eager to share his knowledge. “The stripe colors show what our occupation is and the amount of stripes denote our position. Children have no rank, so they wear solid clothing. The lowest positions start with two stripes, up to the highest, my father, who has eight colored stripes.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Joel replied, but I fumed because my dress was plain, like a child would wear, while my brother’s tunic was striped.

“I wear six stripes and my grandfather wears seven, because no one, even a former king can have more than the present king. The highest ranking subjects wear five stripes.”

“When do you start wearing striped clothes?” I asked the prince, who pretended not to hear me until Joel looked at him.

“Well, when we are of age and appear before the City Director. He decides our occupation. Of course, for me, my vocation is apparent. I was born to rule, so it was quite simple." He chuckled at his joke, which was lost on Joel and me.

“You can’t pick what you want to be?” I inquired. The prince ignored me, though I knew he heard my question.

Joel lost interest in our discussion, so he started scanning the horizon for animals. “I hope I can go out there and explore soon,” he said, pointing to the grasslands.

“The savannah? We never go there. The only people who venture that far are the Masamba, who hunt with their leopards at dusk,” Kayin announced with distaste.

“Do you travel on the river?” My brother was ready for exploring.

“No, we Harun don’t feel the need to travel on the water. The Jabulani used to raft up and down the river, but we Harun have not seen them for a long time, and there are rumors that no one is left in Jabulan but ghosts.”

“Wow! We should go to Jabulan right away.”

“Perhaps you would consent to wait on that. My father made extensive arrangements for you to have a tour of the city. We have entertainment for you, and you have many people to meet.”

I hoped I would meet some girls. It was tiresome traveling in the company of men. “Prince Kayin, I would like to see Jetta again,” I said firmly.

He acknowledged me this time. “She is not fit company for the family of a Creator,” he replied.

“Why, what is the matter with her? She seemed very nice, and friendly besides.”

He halted and towered over me. “She is a headstrong girl, who disobeyed the Tribe Historian, and my father, the king. She has lost her place in the tribe, and it is presently being decided what will be done with her.” He stalked away, as my brother and I hurried to keep up.

“How did she disobey the Tribe Historian?” Joel asked with great interest.

“She refused to marry the man that was selected for her.”

“So, someone decides who you are to marry in Harun?” I shuddered. “Is it true for both women and men?”

“Well, the way it is, is this; a young man is summoned to meet with Master Tribe Historian Rudo, who gives choices for the bachelor to marry. The Tribe Historian has already researched the groom's family line, and the line of his intended bride. The groom selects one of the women, and then the Historian notifies her of her impending marriage. She and her family prepare for the wedding. A simple system, it has worked for us throughout our history.”

“Why does the woman not have a say?” Joel questioned.

"We cherish our women, but only we men are qualified to make such important decisions," Kayin said. "Men are wise and strong, whereas women are weaker, in the mind as well as the body. It is our duty to take care of them. For a young woman to question the Tribe Historian’s judgment is both foolish and disrespectful.”

“Not if she didn't want to marry a jerk.” I muttered.

It was near dawn and now light enough that I could see Kayin glaring at me. “You are merely a girl, and could not understand such complicated things.” He whipped around and turned his back to me.

Kayin was so irritating that I wanted to kick him, but instead grumbled, “What a male chauvinist pig.” I focused the full force of my ire on him as he moved away, unaware of my hostile thoughts. As I glared at him, he became wavy looking, but I thought it was a trick of the light. I blinked and looked again. No, he was quivering and becoming a blob. His tall body compacted and got lighter, as his features melted, projecting here, withdrawing there. In less than a minute, he changed into a pig before our startled eyes.

Joel and I just stared in awe at the animal. It was perfect, from its pink snout to its cute little curly tail. Joel started laughing so hard, I thought he would fall down. The pig let out a sharp squeal, which compelled the guards ahead of us to turn and look. The whole procession could see the pig now, so they came back to examine it, baffled by its appearance.

"What is this...animal?" Rudo inquired fearfully, as they gawked from a safe distance. Everyone but Joel and I looked puzzled. My brother stopped laughing, as he went over to pat the pig’s back. Dad cocked an eyebrow at my brother, expecting Joel to confess.

"It is Prince Kayin. I turned him into a pig," I said. The pig let out a loud squeal as an affirmation, and I bit the side of my mouth to hold back a snort of laughter. Everyone stared at me in surprise.

“Why did you do this?” Dad questioned me finally.

“How did you do this?” asked the king. “Unless you asked your brother for help?” Denying any conspiracy between us, Joel shook his head. “Master Creator, I am quite perplexed. May I have your permission to see if she has the mark?” Zayas queried my father, who nodded.

Now it was my turn for the king to look behind my ears and to proclaim that I carried the mark of a Creator. All the Harun were dumbfounded, and not good at hiding it. I ended up having to stand there longer, so Rudo, Anon, and my dad could examine me.

“I must humbly beg that you pardon us for our surprise, my liege,” Zayas said to Dad. “A Creator having two marked children has never happened in the whole history of Fahdamin-Ra.” He gazed at me, perplexed, then as it occurred to him that I had power, and he’d better be careful, he added, “Many unexpected and fortunate things might come of this.”

“Or a catastrophe,” snorted Rudo, but gulped as I glared at him, and he became silent.

“So, Celestine, why did you do this?” asked Dad, getting back to the point.

“The prince insulted me, and I thought he was being a pig, and then he just turned into one,” I declared, not sorry at all for my actions.

King Zayas knelt before me and, like dominoes, his men fell down on one knee as well. “Merciful and forgiving Creator Celestine, I beg for compassion to be extended to my son, and that you restore him to his former self. I give you my most solemn promise that he will repent and not seek to anger you again.”

“I will, but it is not just him. Your tribe does not treat women fairly, and,” I lectured, intending to go on and glad for a chance to air my views before the cowering men.

Dad interrupted me. “I am certain that he regrets his actions. Please restore him.” He was not willing to listen to me at the moment. I stopped talking and I turned my attention to Kayin, visualizing him in his human form, and he began to change shape. I wanted to make him into a female, but I didn't dare push my luck with father any further.

The Harun men did not move as we watched the prince transform. Kayin's features softened as he became his normal self, though he remained on his hands and knees. He stirred, as though he was waking up. He looked at his hands, and then glanced around. When he saw me, he moved into a kneeling position with his head bowed.

“I am so sorry I insulted you, O Supreme One, Councilor Celestine, the magnificent and merciful," Kayin apologized. "Many thanks upon you for allowing me to regain my humble human form. I promise to guard my tongue and to never insult you again."

I cut off his babbling before he could say more. At that point, I felt annoyed at all of them and was rather curt. "Please get up, Kayin. Please, will all of you stand up? I am sorry, I had no idea I could do that. I will try to control my power in the future." My brother grinned at me and gave me a wink.

As the men got to their feet, I took the lead, heading for the bridge, which was nearby. Several of the guards hastened to form themselves around me. Joel, still smiling, joined me and looking back, I saw that Kayin was careful to walk behind everyone else.

Chapter 3 ~ The City of Harun

2011-09-01T07:55:00.000-04:00

Walking into the city was like entering a giant sandcastle. The dusky stone resembled dark brown sugar so much in color and appearance that I had to touch it, and discover that it was quite hard. I wondered how long it took to mold and shape the rock into streets and buildings. Arched doorways led to rooms beyond, or opened into little courtyards, where a fountain flowed. A few of the entrances had gates of gold grill work, in striking contrast to the dark stone. The windows were graceful oval shapes, many adorned with smaller, more intricate metalwork. Outside the residences, plants and trees stood, placed at different intervals along the way, breaking up the endless brown of the stone.

The streets were narrow and packed with people, allowing us only to shuffle. Since our progress was unhurried, I kept peering inside the homes. The rooms were small and adorned with few items, such as vases or statues of gold, and with little furniture except for large pillows on the floors or stone benches. After puzzling for a while over fixtures attached to the walls, I surmised they were lamps. On the outside of the buildings, every so often I saw stairs cut neatly into the stone, leading upward to more residences.

This was so different from anything I had ever seen, my head spun a little as I twisted around, trying to capture everything. I might have enjoyed it more, if the Harun who saw us hadn’t stopped and gawked at Joel and me. It looked as though every citizen in that city turned out to see us, but Kayin ignored the people as he strode forward, parting the crowd. Joel trudged along beside me, his normally cheerful face held in a solemn expression. I could see that he felt as intimidated by the crowd as I did.

As we passed by the inhabitants, their inquisitiveness was evident as they whispered to one another, and some bolder ones pointed, especially at our sneakers. Everyone was barefoot except my bother and me, so our shoes must have seemed an oddity. All the people there looked the same. They were slim, with ebony skin and narrow features. The Harun adults wore striped robes, though the stripes were different colors, and the length of the sleeves and the gowns varied. All of the men wore gold jewelry, as did some of the women, though theirs was smaller and more discreet. Everyone wore hats of some sort, with different colors or designs, but all had three points.

We saw children in ages ranging from babies, to teenagers not much older than I. They had solid colored clothing and no jewelry of any sort. I think the children our own age stared at us the most intently, but it seemed to be in a friendly, curious way as we trudged by.

Kayin finally hustled us into an immense, triangular area that served as a marketplace. He walked toward an ornate building that took up all of one side, and we paused at the base of its staircase. “I must go find my father. Please wait here until I return with him. Oh, this is the Temple,” Kayin said over his shoulder, before he sprinted away into the crowd. If following along in Kayin’s wake was not bad enough, now Joel and I faced the crowd from all sides, alone. We stood back to back, not knowing where to look, seeing hundreds of eyes upon us. Had everyone we encountered on the way followed us here?

The people staring at us became still. The Harun stood shoulder to shoulder, with their bodies pressed to each other, not hiding their curiosity, as they formed a semicircle about forty people deep around my brother and me. No one spoke to us, which created an awkwardness and tension. The temptation to shove through the gawking bystanders and run away almost overcame me.

But a serene young woman wove her way through the crowd and glided up to us. She was tall and slim like the rest of her tribe, her beauty enhanced by large, doe eyes, and a full mouth. Her plain red tunic was long and had pointed sleeves with gold tassels dangling on the ends.

“Greetings, unusual strangers. I thought I would come and talk to you rather than whisper about you in the crowd.” She flashed us a bright, amicable smile. “Everyone is wondering who is important enough to be escorted by our noble Prince Kayin. What tribe are you from?”

I stood up straight, trying to look imposing though I barely came up to her nose. “We are not from a tribe around here, Miss.”

“Oh, please forgive my lack of manners. The name bestowed upon me is Jetta, and I am at your service,” she said, with a graceful bow. “Do you hail from...out beyond the savannah?”

“No, we just arrived here at the place that you call the stone circle,” Joel said.

Jetta appraised us and then her eyebrows shot up as she studied the stone and the necklace Joel was wearing. Next, she raised her arm and motioned to someone behind us. A tall, handsome, young man descended the steps and arrived at her side. “Yohance, look at who just arrived here, and see what this boy is wearing around his neck.”

Yohance appeared as surprised as the woman was. His large eyes met Joel’s and he murmured, “Is that your stone that you wear there around your neck?”

“Actually, the necklace belongs to our dad. Our grandmother just gave it to him. She had it in a safe deposit box at the bank, I mean, she had it stored away for safekeeping. For a long time.” Joel stumbled with his explanation. “We didn’t know what it could do or where it would take us, until today.”

Jetta and Yohance looked at each other, then back at us again. “Young strangers, do you know what has been said through the ages? It was foretold that the Creators would come back one day, finding favor with their faithful children of this land once more,” Yohance said. “Today must be the day. Welcome Creators, welcome back to Fahdamin-Ra.”

Joel and I relaxed, smiling back at Yohance and Jetta. I was about to reply when the crowd parted, making a path for Kayin and an older man. As the prince spied Jetta and Yohance talking to us, his face twisted in anger. He propelled himself toward us, then grabbed Jetta’s arm, to pull her away. “Get back, you unworthy child,” he growled. “Who do you think you are to be in the Creator’s esteemed presence?” Jetta tried to yank her arm free, while Yohance moved to her side.

“I may speak to the Creator if I wish.” Jetta was angry, too. Her dislike of the prince was apparent.

“Please, young merciful Majesty, my sister was attempting to make the newcomers feel welcome.” Yohance’s voice was calm, though his eyes flickered with annoyance at Kayin. Watching them, I wondered what Jetta could have done to make Kayin so angry.

A firm, strong hand clasped the prince’s shoulder. “My royal son, blood of my blood, this is not the time, nor the place,” said a deep voice. Kayin released Jetta’s arm, and she and Yohance backed away.

“Councilor Joel, Councilor Sister Celestine, please permit me to introduce my father, King Zayas, judicious ruler of the tribe of Harun, Imperial Master of this city,” Kayin proclaimed. His words were polite and formal, though he was pouting and glaring at Jetta. Zayas bowed to us, so Joel and I bowed back. The older man’s face was impassive, staring at us with black, piercing eyes.

“Welcome, traveling children,” he said in his stately voice. He was the same height as his son, but appeared more imposing, because of his broad shoulders. It was impossible for me to guess his how old he was, but I thought he must be my father’s age. His stern face, dominated by a large nose, looked hard, as if he rarely smiled or laughed. As he scrutinized my brother and me, we studied him back.

A huge purple hat studded with precious stones, bright feathers, and gold tassels matched his ornate sash, which hung from his left shoulder over his multi-striped robe. A massive gold necklace, shaped like an eagle, covered his chest. Zayas had the aura of a leader, serene and majestic, but also seemed serious and wary.

The king’s eyes darted to the stone and the necklace. “Please follow me,” he instructed. We trailed him up the steps, taking care not to tread on his long, silken robe, as we followed him into the temple.

The inside of the building was immense and triangular. Statues lined the walls, lit by dozens of torches on gold stands, making the Temple glow like a jewel. Several men appeared from the back, out of the dimness. They had a uniform look, since each of them was old and they wore long, flowing robes, each with the same colored stripes. Like the king, they wore much gold and many jewels. As they gathered around Zayas, he addressed my brother saying, “I see that you have the Almighty Creator’s necklace or one that looks just like it. How did you, a young child, acquire such a thing?”

Joel looked nervous, but spoke up bravely. “I don’t know what you mean about the Creator’s necklace. All I know is that this necklace and stone have been passed down through my family for generations, and after we recited a poem, it brought us here this morning.”

“Would you recite this mysterious poem for me?” Zayas asked. I fumbled in my pocket for the verse, and then Joel and I read it aloud. “How did you know the special verse to read, and that it went with the stone?”

I started to explain, but the king flicked up his hand up to stop me, as he nodded to Joel to continue. My brother told the men about the box, the pouch, and the writing on it. All of them listened attentively, until he was finished.

“You carry the Creator’s stone, but do you wear the Creator’s mark?” inquired the king. Again, Joel looked confused, so he shrugged his shoulders. “May I look for myself?” My brother was rigid except for the tiniest nod. Zayas moved toward him, and the other Harun men gathered around, closing me out. I pushed in and stood close to my brother, unsure what they intended to do. The king used the tip of his pointer finger to fold forward Joel’s ears one by one, to examine the back of his lobes. “Yes, the Creator mark is here,” he proclaimed and the others swarmed to look for themselves, leaving me to wonder what kind of mark was on the back of Joel’s earlobes. Before I could ask, all the men moved away.

Another man came out of the shadows. He was dressed almost exactly like the other men from the temple, but by their manner, it was obvious that he must be their leader. They parted respectfully to let him through as he approached us, looking down his nose at my brother and me. Though he carried himself with rigid dignity, he had protruding buckteeth, which gave him a comical look.

“My wise and patient king,” the man said. His voice was shrill and wheezy. “We know what we have to do. Despite appearances, this questionable boy may be the person we have waited for all these many ages. How do we know the beauty of a jewel from a raw stone unless we cut it? I will not presume to remind your Magnificence, of all people, what test needs to be done.”

Just for a moment, the king dipped his powerful head and looked resigned, then straightened. Kayin watched him, clenching his hands at his sides. “Yes, you are most wise, Tribe Historian Rudo, and I know of what you speak. Please, all of you follow me and we shall see if the truth will be revealed.” He turned and walked away.

The Tribe Historian impatiently motioned for Joel and me to follow, and then the rest of the Historians came behind us. We moved out of the main area of the Temple, passing through softly lit rooms with stone tables and benches. Young men in the striped tunics looked up from their writing as we advanced. One of them was Yohance, but we had to hurry along, and did not get a chance to acknowledge him.

Zayas led us to a winding staircase, and the light got dimmer as we climbed. At the top, we arrived at a small room with two narrow slits for windows. One of the men lit a lamp, which pushed back the dark, illuminating an old man who sat on a large pillow. He rose stiffly to his feet as he heard us arrive. “Zayas? Is that your step I hear? Who is with you?”

The king went to the old man’s side and touched his arm. “My devoted Father and King before me, I bring you uncertain strangers, a boy and his sister. He is wearing a stone on a gold chain, which looks like the Creator’s stone, and he claims that it brought him here from another world. He also carries the mark of the Creators. I knew he must be brought to you, for he may be the one to fulfill your long awaited prophecy.”

The old man turned, and Zayas guided him to face our direction, but I had already guessed by then that the old man was blind. “Come here, young man,” he said, as the Tribe Historian disdainfully pushed Joel near enough so the blind man could grasp my brother’s shoulder. I moved forward too, but Rudo barred my way, giving me a nasty look. I glared back, disliking the haughty way he treated my brother and me.

The old man announced, “I am Father King Sudi and ten long harvests ago, I lost my sight. What saved me from the deepest despair was when I had a vision of a Creator returning to our world at last. It was revealed to me that to prove his divinity, he would restore my vision.”

Joel gaped at the old man and then turned to the rest of us. “I’m just a kid. I don’t know how to cure a blind person.”

Zayas pressed his lips together as he stared at my brother. Sudi’s joy faded from his face, but he bowed his head and asked, “Could you try?”

Joel paused in thought and then nodded. Catching himself, he said, “How do I do it?”

“In our history, Creators always placed their hands on the person and transferred their power of healing,” instructed Rudo in an authoritative tone. From his disapproving look, he did not expect anything to happen.

Joel raised his hands and put them gingerly on either side of Sudi’s face. The old man jumped, startled, then they both settled down again and closed their eyes. My brother’s brow furrowed as he concentrated. For a few minutes, no one moved, and then my brother took his hands away. They both opened their eyes and stepped apart.

“I can see, I can see!” Sudi looked about, touching his eyes as if he could not believe it. ”After the dry season, the rain must fall. The Creator has returned,” Sudi continued. Joel grinned and nodded, but I could tell he was as surprised as everyone else.

“How did you do it?” I mouthed to Joel as we looked at each other, feeling excited and relieved. He shrugged his shoulders to show he did not know, as every Harun around us dropped to their knees, except Sudi, who shouted praises and thanks to Joel, the Creator. I had to clamp my hands over my mouth to stop from laughing aloud. Joel looked bewildered as Sudi kissed his hands and bowed repeatedly, and the formerly imposing King Zayas groveled at his feet.

I struggled to get myself under control, which was not easy. Thank goodness, no one was looking at me. Joel swelled with pride, then announced, “Please, everybody, get up.” After a lot of bowing, the group got to their feet. Sudi stopped dipping and shouting, then just stood there, looking around, as tears of happiness rolled down his ancient cheeks.

“The Harun people await such great news as this,” King Zayas proclaimed, a wide smile cracking his stern face. He led the way, and we followed along in the procession. We told everyone that we met the news of Sudi’s cured vision, starting with the young men writing, and then the crowd that still lingered outside the Temple. More people came, bowed, and held up their children so that they could catch sight of us.

After a while, the Tribe Historian Rudo came out of the Temple with gifts. Kayin draped a purple sash over Joel’s shoulder, and King Zayas presented my brother with a gold eagle statue, which was about a foot high, and had graceful lines showing the work of a talented artist. Its two emerald eyes glittered in the sun. Zayas raised his hands and the crowd was instantly silent.

“We welcome Councilor Joel, Creator Son, so compassionate and powerful. We hope he and his family will be with us forever, and indulge themselves upon our meager hospitality. Our long years of darkness have passed.”

Everyone cheered, and then the king stood aside so Joel could make a speech. Dumbfounded, my brother looked over the crowd. “I am glad to be here and to meet all of you,” he said. He stopped to clear his throat. “My sister and I want to go home and get my father, so you can meet him, too,” The entire crowd hummed, which we took for approval.

After a while, the excitement waned, so we followed King Zayas and his band back into the temple. They all crowded around Joel and ignored me, so I started examining the statues. Inscribed on each base was the same exotic script that was on the pouch. As I investigated a statue of a smiling woman with a sheep, Yohance came alongside me.

“Councilor Sister, I feel such joy to know you are here,” he said. “When you and your brother leave, it will seem an eternity until you both return.”

“That is so nice of you to say, Yohance, but we don’t know how to get home.”

His expressive brown eyes widened in surprise. “You have the verse that got you here. What about the poem to take you home?”

“We don’t know it.” I admitted.

Smiling a little, he led me toward the largest and most elaborate statue, which depicted a man with three children standing around him. Around his neck was a gold necklace that looked just like ours, with a stone pendant. Yohance pointed to the strange writing on the base. I started to protest that I could not read that type of writing, as it seemed to swim before my eyes. Then, it cleared and I could read the verse that brought us to Fahdamin-Ra, and another one:

“Take me back to the land where I was born,

Its soil is my body, its water my blood,

Land that I came from, land that I love

Take me away to home.”

“Is this what we say to take us home?” I asked Yohance, and he nodded, grinning. “Oh, you haven’t got a piece of paper or something to write this down, do you?” I pleaded with him.

Dangling from his belt was a square paddle with paper attached to it, and from a slim bag he produced some long, thin sticks of dark gray that were sharp at one end. “What kind of bumbling scribe would I be if I did not have my tools? I would not be worth my stripes,” he said as he handed the writing tools to me. I wrote down the verse and then thanked him. “Please hurry back, Sister Celestine, and brighten our dreariness with the light of your smile.” With a deep bow, he slipped away.

Joel was tired of the attention and glad to see me when I wandered over and threaded my way through the throng of tall men. They ignored me except for Kayin, who looked miffed because my brother reached out and took my hand. “I know how to get back home,” I whispered in Joel’s ear. His eyebrows raised and I showed him the verse on the piece of paper.

“We are going to return home now, and will come back as soon as we can,” Joel said. All the men looked dismayed at his abruptness, but they bowed, and then the Tribe Historian gave us a long, flowery speech. After that, the King assembled his guard who guided us through the city. Once past the city gates, more guards met us carrying purple awnings, and escorted us in style back to the stone circle.

King Zayas had Joel march along beside him, while I was stuck walking with the prince. “I am most anxious to meet your Creator father,” Kayin said. “Councilor Joel is a remarkable young man, and I am sure your father will be even more extraordinary. After all, the best tree grows the best fruit.” I did not manage a reply, so the rest of the journey was in silence.

After we arrived at the stone circle, we took our places in the exact center. The Harun knelt before us, King Zayas saying, “Thank you so much, Creator Joel, for coming here today, and restoring the hope that has become worn from the handling of many generations. We will remain here until you return with your long awaited and most excellent father.”

With that, my brother fumbled for the stone and we both touched it. As I held up the paper, Joel and I recited the verse together. The stone brightened when we finished, its shining light engulfing us, obliterating everything, and suspending us in time.

I felt something solid under my feet. It was the welcome surface of our kitchen floor. As the light faded, we saw Mom and Dad there, clutching one another, their shocked faces turning toward us as we reappeared.

There was silence for a few seconds, then Joel announced, “Hey, Mom and Dad, have we got something to tell you.”

Chapter 2 - Exploring Fahdamin-Ra

2011-08-31T08:49:00.000-04:00

I shut my eyes and then opened them again, only to find my brother and me still standing in the lush, dense jungle instead of our bright and familiar kitchen. We clutched each other, barely breathing. The stone hanging around my brother’s neck returned to its normal state of looking ordinary, as if it were innocent of the changes it had thrust upon us.

I let my breath out in a whoosh and then inhaled cautiously.

We stood in dim light, in the exact center of a large circle, which was formed by closely fitting smooth, dark stones. No grass grew in the narrow grooves between them, and no cracks marred their surfaces. But something about the circle gave the impression that it was ancient. Everything was touched with a soft, rosy light coming from a gentle sun over my left shoulder, but whether it was dawn or sunset, I could not tell.

Majestic, opulent trees, dense with foliage in vivid shades of green, made a thick emerald wall around two thirds of the circle. Vines and undergrowth lapped the edges of the circle, but none grew upon it. Blossoms adorned some of the branches, scenting the humid air with tantalizing perfumes. Ahead of us lay a thick mat of fresh green grass, which was parted in the middle, exposing a dirt road that led to some irregular mountains in the distance.

My brother’s exclamation broke the heavy stillness. "Hey, what happened? Where do you think this place is?" He grabbed the stone and examined it, but it did not reveal its secrets.

"This place has to be Fahdamin-Ra, just like the verse says."

"No, I mean where do you think this place is? Is this earth or another planet?"

"What I want to know is how to get back home." I refused to let the tightness in my throat reveal how close I was to tears.

Joel rubbed his head and held the pendant up to the light. "Let’s recite the same verse, but substitute the word "home" for Fahdamin-Ra."

Holding up the crumpled slip of paper with the chant on it, I clutched his arm as we recited the same verse, ending with the word ‘home’.

Nothing happened. Pressing my lips together, I shoved the paper into the pocket of my shorts. "There has to be a way to get back. Maybe if we just wish to go home.” We paused, wishing intently to go home, but we stayed where we were.

"Let’s make up something," Joel suggested. He then proceeded to chant different verses, each one becoming more outrageous than the last. He gave up trying and stood in uncharacteristic stillness. My mind went back to how happy we were, a few moments earlier, before we discovered the secret of our family’s ancient artifact. Now, I wondered if we would ever see our home or parents again. A sob pushed its way up, seeking an escape. But I shoved it back, letting anger taking its place.

Joel started to wander away. I shouted, "Don't move!" much too loudly for the quiet surroundings. We heard startled birds fly up into the air, somewhere beyond us in the thick jungle.

“Aren't we going to explore?"

"I think we should stay here until we figure out how to get home."

"No way. I want to check this place out. Sis-tine, stop worrying. We need to look around and see what’s here." Joel walked a few more feet away from me. "Let’s go see if we can find some people, maybe someone to help us. We’ll explore and figure out something.”

Unexpectedly, there was a movement in the bushes and a sleek leopard came into view. I gasped in fear, but Joel’s face became alert with excitement and interest. The leopard stared at us for a moment, sniffing. It was a beautiful animal with sinewy muscle covered by a luxurious, vibrant coat. It was worth admiring, but not from ten feet away. The large cat growled and then slipped into the bushes to our right, as if it were changing from solid to shadow.

Joel was elated. “Wow! Did you see that? Let’s find out where it went. I bet there are lots of exotic animals here.” He was already stalking toward the place where the wild feline had vanished.

I grabbed the back of his shirt before he dove in the bushes to become the leopard’s breakfast. “No way! We stay together and if we are going to look for anything, we’ll search for some people. Let's not get eaten just after we’ve arrived. Let’s go down that road.” I pointed to the dirt road that led to the mountains.

My brother was ready for a one-person mutiny. Yanking his shirt out of my hand, he said, “Sis-tine, they only attack humans if they feel threatened.”

“I think following a leopard into the underbrush would be threatening. Let’s go.” Again, I indicated the path. Joel hesitated a second before he joined me.

My brother never stayed upset for long. “I told you that it was a leopard carved on the box,” he said in a superior tone, swaggering along beside me.

I smiled and kept walking. It must have been dawn when we arrived at this place, because the sunlight became steadily stronger. The jungle remained on our right as we went along, although the density diminished. On our left, the green grass gave way to scattered trees and bushes. Because the road was so straight, I could just make out a river in the distance. A dark bridge spanned it. The mountains beyond stuck up out of the ground like oversized lumps of dark brown sugar, and stretched across the land, running parallel to the river.

I tried to gauge how long before we’d reach the ridge. I wondered if it looked close because the air was clean in this place and because it stood out in sharp relief against the vivid blue sky. I took many deep breaths, enjoying the smell of the trees and the grass. Joel and I didn’t speak as we took it all in, using each of our senses to experience everything that surrounded us. Although it was warm and the sun very bright, I did not feel hot, though I needed my visor to shade my eyes, and said so. Joel wished for his favorite lime green fishing hat.

“Actually, this is not the outfit I would have picked to travel in." I indicated my pink shorts, and pink and orange striped tank top. "I need something more dignified.”

"Be glad we're both wearing sneakers," Joel said, unconcerned that he was wearing a bright orange tee shirt with a surfboard-riding iguana pictured on it. He wore khaki shorts, the kind with lots of pockets. He was right about our footwear. Without our sneakers, it would have been uncomfortable to walk anywhere but on the smooth road.

We came upon fields carpeted with vegetables, the rows remarkably straight, and no weeds in sight. Beyond them, I saw a movement, so I stopped. On the left, past a curve in the river, the gardens gave way to long, golden grass, where a herd of horned animals grazed. Joel halted and followed my gaze. "A type of antelope, I think," he said, answering my unasked question. The animals milled around, ignoring us because we were much too far away to bother them. I loved watching the elegant animals, colored in brown and cream, with twisty curlicues of horns.

“They are so graceful and pretty that they remind me of deer.”

"They belong to the goat family," Joel said, shattering my idyllic thought.

"Well, so do you, but we took you in anyway." I gave him a playful shove, which he returned. When I went to shove him back, he darted away laughing. I chased after him, though I knew he could run faster and I could not catch him unless he let me. We sprinted up the road, until he halted abruptly. Startled, I stopped too, the sight ahead making me cold with fear.

Marching toward us was a group of men. They might have been half a mile away, but they were easy to spot because the land was flat and they wore colorful clothing. I had no doubt; it was to us that they walked.

"Should we wave or something?" Joel asked.

"Maybe we should run," I said, feeling panicky. Our intention was to meet people, but I had imagined a quiet village with women and children, not a squad of men out in the open.

"Sis-tine, where would we run to?" It was too far to the jungle, which was the only place we could hide.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, we will stay here, but look calm and relaxed. I wonder how we can figure out a way to communicate with them. Do you think we can pantomime finding the stone and it bringing us here?"

"Oh sure, Celestine. They will stand there while we do charades." Joel sneered, using sarcasm to mask his apprehension. We froze and watched the men come closer.

It was a vivid group. Three men preceded the others, holding curved, shiny swords out in front of them. They wore identical black, red, and gold striped tunics, with triangular red hats on their heads. Four more men dressed exactly like the first three, followed. The men in the quad each grasped a pole, holding up a purple awning over a man in the center. As they approached, we could observe that the central man was dressed more elaborately, in a longer robe with pointed sleeves that extended beyond his hands. His silken garment had more colorful stripes than the others. He wore a golden hat shaped like a graduation cap, except that the flat surface had three points instead of four. It was decorated with colorful stones and large feathers. All the men wore sashes draped from their right shoulder; in addition, the guards wore one around their waists to hold their scabbards.

I had never seen men with so much gold jewelry. They all wore earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and anklets. The man in the middle had a heavy necklace with an immense gold eagle pendant, which was studded with jewels. The sunlight flashed on the gold as they moved.

We felt awkward as they came nearer, their bare feet thudding on the hard packed road. When they were a few yards away, the guards stopped, but the young man in the middle walked up to us. He was tall and thin, and he had skin that was a beautiful color - a deep brown that almost appeared black. He had a short nose, a large mouth, and exotic deep-set eyes.

I did not know what to do, but I knew I had to say something. I gave a little bow and said hello, which seemed ridiculous. I could tell by the way Joel rolled his eyes, that he thought so too. For a moment, the man stared at our clothes, and then he started talking. Whatever he said in his language, he began in a cautious tone, then became exasperated when we did not understand him. He waved his hands as he jabbered at us. Joel kept looking to me to signal our next move. Meanwhile the stranger blustered at us in his tongue, getting more irritated every minute.

Abruptly, he reached over and grabbed the stone pendant. Like a game of slap-jack, Joel and I grabbed the stranger’s hand. I was afraid he would rip the necklace from Joel. The necklace gave off a shock, stronger than static electricity, and the man jumped, taken aback. His guards came to his side to protect him, but he waved them away while never taking his eyes off our startled faces.

"Who are you? Where did you get the Creator’s stone?" the man demanded to know, and we could understand every word. Startled, I gaped at Joel, who was just as dumbfounded.

Joel recovered and started to grin, lifting one eyebrow. "I am Joel and this is my sister, Celestine. This stone brought us here this morning. It has been in our family for ages."

The young man comprehended Joel’s words, but I did not expect such a dramatic reaction. His mouth fell open so wide that I could see his tonsils, and then he stumbled a few steps back, pointing to the stone in amazement. "That brought you here from your world?"

Our world? What world was this? Not knowing what to say, my brother and I nodded in unison. The next thing we knew, all the strangers folded to their knees and spread their arms, bowing their heads toward us.

"Well," Joel said. "This is more like it."

There was an awkward moment as Joel and I waited, looking at the men. Joel could stand it no longer and announced in a commanding voice, "You may rise." The men obeyed, and now it was their turn to stand awkwardly. "So, who are you and where is this place?" Joel continued.

"I am the obedient and steadfast Prince Kayin from the most loyal tribe of the Harun," the young man said in a noble manner. "These are my valiant guards. Forgive us; we did not know who it was that traveled the road, so I came to investigate.” He addressed his remarks to Joel, though he glanced at me while he talked, curious about us both. "This is the land of Fahdamin-Ra that you see about you. For a long time, all have watched and waited with much anticipation for your welcome appearance.” I observed him as he spoke. He had beautiful white teeth, but I sensed that he did not smile often. Though none of the men looked at us directly, I found myself again wishing I had worn something more formal than a tank top and shorts.

Joel smiled at the prince. "Well Prince Kayin, we just arrived at that circle of stone. Do you know it?" He pointed down the road in the direction from which we had come. Kayin nodded, and then glanced toward the circle.

“So, it is exactly as was told in the legends of long ago," he said. "The Creators will always appear to us at the stone circle. How ashamed I am for my tribe, forsaking our vigilance, and not being there to welcome you." He and the other men hung their heads.

My brother and I were confused. Did our stone bring others here before? "What do you mean by 'the legends'?" Joel asked.

Kayin looked at both of us, but was hesitant to speak. Maybe he was afraid that he would offend us. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, addressing Joel. "We, the proud and noble tribe of the Harun, have waited for a Creator to visit, though it has been many generations. Is it not said that with patience even the tiniest seed will grow to be a tree? We began to wonder if we would see you again. Not that we did not have faith,” he added hastily. “We remembered that it is the duty of the mortals to please the Creators, not for the Creators to please the mortals. However, I am filled with joy to know that you are here now. Please, come visit my people. They will be full of delight when they see that you have returned." He bowed down again and, puppet-like, the guards did the same.

Joel nodded. "No problem, lead the way." Rising, Kayin turned back in the direction from which he had come, and moved to the other side of Joel. The guard assembled around us, stretching the awning over our trio of heads. With a command from the prince, we proceeded down the road toward the mountains.

I kept looking at Kayin and the guards out of the corners of my eyes. They were all so tall, and no one spoke. It felt rather intimidating. As we walked, we saw people streaming out of the mountain, heading to the fields. They all stared at our little procession.

I wanted answers right away, so I started asking questions. "Prince Kayin, my brother and I never knew what the stone could do until this morning, when we arrived in Fahdamin-Ra. Someone hid it inside a trick box, so my father and grandmother had no knowledge of what it could do. When did the last Creator visit here?"

“The Great Councilor, Baruti, was the last of the Creators to appear," Kayin said after some hesitation. "It was many generations ago when we were honored with his presence. If your family did not know about the stone, then that would explain your absence." He begged Joel to tell him the story, so my brother told him all that we knew. “I wonder what happened that kept Councilor Baruti from passing on the secret?” the prince said.

“Who knows? We are glad to be here, now.” Joel said. “So, does anyone else live here in Fahdamin-Ra besides your tribe?”

“The Jabulani tribe lives on the river, in a little village called Jabulan,” Kayin said, pointing to the left. “The Masamba tribe still lives deep in the jungle, over that way.” He pointed to the right.

“Tell us, what are the other tribes like?” Joel probed, wanting to know more.

The prince hesitated and then answered as if he were measuring his words. “I have little knowledge about them. We don’t associate with each other usually. In fact, no one has seen any Jabulani for some time, but I have heard that they are often idle. As for the Masamba, they wear minimal clothing and what they do wear is rough cloth and animal skins. We occasionally see them hunting with their leopards.” I could tell by his clipped speech that Kayin did not care for the other tribes. I made a mental note to visit them so that Joel and I could find out for ourselves. The prince seemed a little too snobbish for me to trust his opinion.

We fell into a long silence, and I could hear the calls of birds, the flap of the awning in the breeze, and the determined slap of our feet on the road, as we got closer to Harun. We approached a formidable looking bridge. It was dark brown stone with two massive statues of solemn men at either side of the entrance. Their clothing resembled what Kayin was wearing, and their pointed hats were shiny gold, reflecting the fierce sun.

Suddenly, he asked, “Do the other tribes know you are here?”

“No, we had just arrived when you and your men met us,” Joel said. “Now, please tell us what Harun is like?”

“It is as tall and majestic as the mountains from which we carved it. We have always thanked the First Creator for giving us such a perfect place to live. You will find Harun people hard working, well-educated, careful keepers of our history, and respectful of the Creator Laws. For a man who pays respect to the great, paves the way for his own greatness.” He was then silent, perhaps waiting for our response, but I was mulling over the mention of the Creator Laws. Were we really Creators? What did Creators do? What laws did Creators make, and how would we find out about them?

Groups of people started passing by us. Women carried baskets on their heads, men carried tools in their hands, and though they glanced at us, they did not speak. They wore striped clothing of greens, browns, and yellows and, for the men only, additional stripes of orange. The women and men alike wore narrow hats of stiff fabric, with the top folded over like a flap of an envelope. The hats were solid colored and plain, with no decoration. The men wore sashes across their chests as well, and a few pieces of gold jewelry. They went into the fields and set to work at once.

Kayin looked down his nose as he nodded to all and called out greetings to some of the men. As we bustled up to the bridge, the workers cleared out of the way, leaving the bridge empty for us. We hurried past the watchful stone guardians and onto the span. The sides were waist high walls that allowed for a view of the brown river on both sides. Trees and bushes drooped out over the water from the steep banks on either side of the river. Along the far bank, fields stretched to the base of the mountains, which loomed ahead of us.

Beyond the bridge, I could see that the road curved a bit, ending at a massive arch, decorated with gold writing and symbols, carved into the dark brown stone. Two guards stood at the gate within the arch, swords at their sides. At our approach, they pulled their blades out of their scabbards and raised them in what I hoped was a salute.

“Welcome to the City of Harun,” Prince Kayin announced, as our procession came to the gate. The guards all stopped, but Kayin pushed on ahead with Joel and me in his wake. We passed through the arch, entered the city, and walked from the glaring sunlight into the dark coolness.

Travels to Fahdamin-Ra

2011-08-30T13:51:00.000-04:00

I am re-releasing my first book, Travels to Fahdamin-Ra. This is a soft cover and ebook version, available on Kindle, Nook, and Smashwords, with a new cover! For the next week, I will download a chapter each day so that people can read the book and get to know Celestine and Joel Bridges, the main characters of the story.

Chapter 1
The Secret

Everyone loves a secret. Sometimes you keep secrets and sometimes they keep you. My secret and I held on to each other for years, but our tale is so fantastic that I have to tell it. Maybe you will believe me, or maybe not - you will have to decide for yourself.

I will start at the beginning, on June 30 - back in the summer when I was fourteen and my brother, Joel, was twelve. My name is Celestine Bridges, by the way, and our particular adventure began when my father retired from the navy and celebrated his birthday all on the same day. My mother planned a day of festivities for him, ending with a party at our house.

My Bridges grandparents drove up from New York for the special event. That evening, when most of the visitors were gone, Grandmother presented Dad with an extraordinary gift. “Raymond, this belongs to you, now that you are out of the service and will be staying in one place,” she said, handing him a round, carved block of wood. “This has been passed down through our family since they lived in Africa. I have saved it all these years in a safe-deposit box, so make sure you keep it secure.”

Joel and I leaned over Dad’s shoulder as we examined it. The wood heirloom was the shape and size of a small tin you get cookies in at Christmas. The dark brown wood was almost the color of my father’s hands and covered with intricate carvings. Etched on the top was a sun surrounded by an eagle, a fish, and a leopard. Mountains, trees, flowers, and vines adorned the sides. “All these years, Mother, and you never said a thing. Do you know what country it is from?”

“I’m sorry, dear. I don’t know much about it at all, except that when my mother gave it to me, told me to keep it safe, and to pass it down to my child with the mark. Since you are my only child, I suppose you must carry the mark, though she never explained what it was. At any rate, I hope you will put this in a safe place.”

“Don’t worry, Mother, I understand that it is irreplaceable. I will take it to the bank on Monday.” My father took the object out to the porch, where Dr. Oba Tutuola was talking to my mother, Valerie, and her sister, Lucy. “Oba, have you seen anything like this?” Dad asked, as he passed it to his friend. Dr. Tutuola held the item carefully, the light overhead reflecting in his glasses. He was Nigerian and taught history and African studies at a nearby college.

“This is an unusual box and the carvings are quite detailed. I have never seen wood quite like this before,” he commented, studying it.

“It’s a box?” Joel asked. “How does it open?”

“Well, I am guessing that it is a box, because of its size and the carvings on it. Sometimes, people hide important things in small boxes, and there is a trick, like a puzzle, to opening them. Perhaps if you study it, you will figure out how to get it open.” Dr. Tutuola held it gently as he traced a fingertip over the surface.

“May I see it?” asked Mom, and we passed the heirloom to her. Even though she is not of African descent, she worked in Nigeria and the Republic of Benin after college, and was always interested in everything African. She and my aunt exclaimed over its beauty as my grandmother hovered nearby. The only one who was not curious was my grandfather, who settled in the living room and read the newspaper instead.

When my turn came, I cradled the box with a sense of wonder. What country did it come from, and how many relatives of mine held this box in their hands? Why did they make it and want to pass it down? If it were a box, what could be in it? Diamonds? Gold? A treasure map? “Now, dear,” my grandmother instructed as she took it away from me, “this is not a toy, but a delicate artifact that has great sentimental value.” I did not say anything, but knew that once my grandmother was gone, Dad would let me study it as long as I wanted.

Our grandparents left the next day, cruising up the street in their big Cadillac. The atmosphere in the house relaxed a little, without their stern presence. Joel and I scrutinized the carved wood object, and talked Dad out of putting it in a safe-deposit box until we had a chance to figure out if it opened.

We picked it up and puzzled over it many times, but it was summer in Maine, and the secret of the box became less of a priority as each day went by. It was turning out to be the best summer ever with our parents. Dad was waiting until fall before he started his new job at an accounting firm, and Mom was taking a break from her work designing and sewing costumes. She kept sewing for the rest of us though, making Dad some new shirts, a new dress for me, and some costumes for Joel, who was still young enough to dress up as a Samurai, a genie, or an alien.

Dad worked on the motorboat and when it was ready, we went out on the river in the evenings, to cool off after hot July days. He also started scraping loose paint from the house, keeping my brother and me busy picking up chips off the ground. We were looking forward to helping him paint after the scraping was done, because he was going to let us stand on the scaffolding.

One night at supper, Dad announced that he would be taking the heirloom to the bank the next day, for safekeeping. After we cleaned up the kitchen, Joel went into the living room, to study the box one last time. “You know what doesn’t make sense to me?” he commented. “The eagle should be in the sky, the fish should be in the water, and the leopard should be by the trees.”

I put down my book and went to study the carvings again. To the left of the sun were some mountains, a blank area of sky above them. On the right, tall trees stood, curved along the edge of the box. Below the sun were small ridges, which looked like waves. It did not make sense that the leopard was standing on the water, the eagle was flying in the trees, and the fish was by the mountains. “Do you think those animals can move?” I asked.

Joel put the box down on the coffee table and started to shift each of the carved animals on the lid. Nothing happened. I tried pressing the sun, pushing against it with my fingertips. When I lifted my hand away, my brother put a finger on each animal. He had to stretch to touch all three, so I put my pointer finger on the fish. “Push down on all three at the same time,” he ordered. We pushed hard, and there was an almost inaudible click as the sun moved up a tiny bit. “Wow-hoo! Did you see that, Sis-tine?” He pulled on the sun, but it did not budge.

“Here, try this.” I turned the sun like a knob. It did not move, but the animals did since they were connected to each other on a circular disk. I dialed them to the right locations and when they fell into place, the whole top of the box gave a click. I rotated it around, but nothing happened. For the next ten minutes or so, Joel and I fiddled with it, until both of us stopped trying and just stared at it.

“I thought it would work like a dial and open when we got to the right place. I wonder what we’re supposed to do next,” Joel said. We sat unmoving, for several minutes and thought hard. I was beginning to think of going back to my book when my brother jumped up and grabbed the box again. “Maybe it works like a combination on a safe,” he exclaimed, moving it back into the position where the top of the box was realigned. He dialed it several ways, finally lining up some faint markings on the top and sides. He found the correct sequence and the sun popped up even more. Joel grasped the sun like a knob and the top of the box came off.

We hollered for our parents to come as we peered inside. There was a recess in the middle where a purple fabric bag lay, about the size of my fist. Mom and Dad arrived on the scene, gasping as they saw Joel holding the lid. “You figured it out. Good for you two!” Mom praised us.

Dad beamed at us as he pulled the bag out. It had gold drawstrings and gold script on the side of it. “This bag looks brand new,” my father observed. He loosened the drawstrings, opened the bag, and poured a gold necklace into his hand. “Wow! Who would have guessed that this would be in there?” As he held it up, the thick chain gleamed. There was a pendent attached to the necklace, a gold cage of sorts around an oval, brown stone. “This is strange. What type of stone is this?”

“What kind of writing is on the bag?” I asked, as Mom and I studied it.

“I have no idea,” Dad replied, “but I think I will take it to Oba in the morning and see what he says. In the meantime, you have to show me how you opened this.”

Joel and I demonstrated how it opened, which lead to an animated discussion until Mom noticed the time and sent us off to bed. The next morning, Dad hustled our discovery to Dr. Tutuola and then came home with another piece of the puzzle solved.

“Dr. Tutuola is sure that the writing is Arabic and is asking a colleague to translate it for us. While I was there, one of the geology professors looked at the rock and thought it was a type of sandstone, though its dark brown color is unusual.” Dad shook his head. “This box is a mystery. Oba said he would drop by later and tell us what he found out, so I invited him to stay for dinner.”

“Oh good, I know just what to make,” said Mom, and she went to the kitchen. Dad phoned his mother, shocking her with the news. My father explained to her, step by step, how to open the box. He refrained from telling her that Joel and I were the ones who discovered the secret.

That evening, my brother and I hung around outside, so we would know the instant when Dr. Tutuola arrived. We ushered him into the house the moment he got out of his car, then Joel asked, “So, what does the writing say?”

Dr. Tutuola smiled as he searched in his pocket for a piece of paper, which he unfolded and read. “Translated, this is what it says: ‘Take me away to my heart’s desire/ Deepest secret, my divine gift/ For me, for all my chosen descendants/ Land that we rule, subjects we love/ To the world where I am The One/ Take me away to Fahdamin-Ra.’”

“I wonder why it is in Arabic and not one of the African languages?” my father inquired. “Where is Fahdamin-Ra? I have never heard of it.”

“No one has ever heard of it though, translated, it means ‘followers of the sun’,” Oba said. “We guessed that the writer used Arabic because many tribes in Africa had only verbal languages until recently.”

“So there is no way of knowing where the writer came from originally?” Mom asked.

“No, but I find the phrase, ‘Where I am The One,’ fascinating – because in my Yoruba language, ‘The One’ is Olodumare, the Creator.”

“What are you going to do with the necklace now, Dad?” Joel looked at him expectantly. “Are you going to wear it?”

We all laughed at the idea of my quiet, reserved father wearing something so large and flashy. “No, son, I won’t be wearing it,” he said, “But I must admit that I am curious to know why my ancestors didn’t use the gold to buy their freedom.” He and my grandmother had worked for a year on our genealogy, tracing back to a farm in Maryland where our ancestors, a woman and her daughter, had arrived as slaves from West Africa.

“Perhaps they did not know what the box contained,” Dr. Tutuola suggested. “Maybe, when it was passed down to them, no one told them the secret.”

“We can talk about it some more while we eat,” Mom broke in. “Oba, you will be happy to know that I cooked your favorite, chicken and peanut stew.” We trooped off to the dining room, and discussed the box and its mysterious contents all through the meal, which we ate with our hands, Nigerian style.

After supper, we showed Dr. Tutuola how we had opened the box and then my father dropped the chain and the stone in the little bag and placed them inside. He added the translation and then closed the lid. “This box is much more valuable than I realized, so I will take it to the bank tomorrow.”

The next morning, I woke up and saw that it was raining. Disappointed, I washed and dressed, then went downstairs to the kitchen. There was the smell of bacon, and a bowl of fresh strawberries was on the counter. Mom got up from the table where she and Dad were sitting, and cooked some bacon for me while I toasted an English muffin. Joel appeared, so Mom added more bacon to the pan while he fixed the rest of his breakfast.

When we finished eating, my parents sat on the porch and sipped coffee, while my brother and I cleared the table. “Why is the box on the counter?” I asked, spying it as I loaded the dishwasher.

“Oh, I was cleaning it with a little lemon oil,” my mother responded. “I wanted to polish it before your dad takes it to the bank today.”

“We won’t see it again, Dad?” Joel asked.

“No, son, it needs to be stored somewhere safe.”

“Can we see the necklace again?” I asked. At my dad’s nod, I opened the case, pulled out the bag, and put the piece of jewelry on, feeling the gold cool and heavy on my neck. “Wow, this weighs more than I thought it would. I have to go look at myself in the mirror.” I went into the bathroom and stared at the heavy gold chain with its mysterious pendant.

“Here, I want to try it,” Joel said, and I put it on over his wooly head. He was too short to see himself in the mirror, so I got a footstool for him to stand on. Next, my brother went out on the porch to show our parents. “I look like a king.”

I called him to come into the kitchen as I picked up the piece of paper with the verse on it. “Wait, your majesty, let me sing you the song that comes with your royal necklace.” Using a theatrical voice, I sang, “Take me away to my heart’s desire, deepest secret, my divine gift. For me, for all my chosen descendants, land that we rule, subjects we love, to the world where I am The One, take me away to Fahdamin-Ra.”

I bowed deeply and then stood, grinning at my brother. Something bright caught my eye. It was the stone, which was glowing, getting brighter as I stared at it. “Joel, look, look!” I shouted, pointing at the stone.

Joel glanced down and gave a yelp, and then yanked at the necklace as he cried, “Help, I can’t get it off, it won’t move.” I grabbed the chain too, which was becoming warmer and felt so heavy that I could not pull it off either.

Seeing us from the kitchen window, my parents jumped up from the table and ran to help. The stone gave off a white light so blinding that I could not see them and did not know if they were near us. I stumbled, falling against my brother, as if a carpet had been pulled out from beneath my feet. The light isolated us and my hands could not let go of the chain, which burned like a brand in my palms. For a few moments, all I was aware of was the light and the heat from the necklace. Although I sensed only air beneath my feet, I did not have the sensation of falling. I could hear Joel panting in my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

It was a relief when there was something solid under my feet again, though the light faded away, leaving us in blackness. As I blinked my eyes and slowed my breathing, the necklace lost its warmth and I could let go of it. The darkness started to recede, and as my eyes adjusted, I was able to see again, but I was not familiar with my surroundings. Joel and I were standing in the middle of a warm, humid jungle, and we had no idea how we had arrived there.

Book Review - Saint Peter Killed God

2011-08-25T14:20:00.001-04:00

http://www.amazon.com/Saint-Peter-Killed-God-ebook/dp/B0059VU9UQ

Saint Peter Killed God by K J Kron

This is one of the most thought provoking books that I have read in some time. Even though I am not Catholic, it makes me want to get out my bible and read the New Testament, to understand what Jesus was teaching. The author drew me in with the story of Peter, a priest who wakes up in a psychiatric hospital. Peter reads his diary, in which he wrote about himself as Saint Peter, and his plan to reform the church. The reader learns about Peter's life at the same time as Peter, who has amnesia and has to rely on his diary to tell him how he ended up in the hospital. All during the story, I wonder if Peter is insane or a visionary, and I like the way that the author lets the reader decide. A must read for anyone who wonders about religion or how our past shapes us.

Remembering Amanda

2011-08-16T10:50:00.000-04:00

My younger sister, Amanda Jill Hoppe Clamors, died on August 8, 2011. She was only 46 years old. I wanted to write a poem about her, but I can't express my feelings that way right now. I realized this morning that I have been thinking about my life lately, and the following is some of my musing:

I was thinking how nice it would be if we could make an appointment with God when we are about to face changes in our life. He would hand us a little summary of what we could expect, depending on what choices we made. We could choose which plan we would like to go with, (like the other day at work, when we had to choose what insurance plan we would like.) Would we be happy if we knew what to expect? The answer is 'no' for me, once I thought about it. I would drive myself crazy wondering if I would be happier if I had chosen a different scenario. Besides, life would not be as enjoyable if I knew what was coming. The lows in our life make us thankful for the highs. I would not be as happy and grateful for the good things in my life if I did not have the bad to compare them to.

I was thinking this morning (walking to work puts my brain in a philosophical mood) that life is like going on a boat. My life feels like it is rushing along most times, like I am kayaking on a river that has white water rapids. I have energy and feel exhilarated. Other times, it feels like I am on my grandfather's old lobster boat, out on the bay, stuck in heavy fog. I don't know where I am going and I am afraid of running aground on ledges, so I stop and listen for the fog horn to guide me and move slowly toward its sound. The fog horn, as you might have guessed, is God's voice. I have to turn the motor off and listen, because the fog muffles the sound and makes it hard to determine what direction it is coming from. The good news is that fog does not last forever, and the sun will eventually come out and burn it off. My life will move on.

I will remember happy memories that I shared of people that are not in my life anymore. It helps me to accept my sister's death when I think that when she arrived in heaven, my grandfather, grandmother, and a bunch of other relatives and friends were there to welcome her. Until I join them, I will appreciate my life a little more, play a little harder, love those around me a little more, and feel a little closer to God.