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  Reflection: Journey’s Travels

  by Lynn Yvonne Moon

  © Copyright 2015 Lynn Yvonne Moon

  ISBN 978-1-63393-020-9

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Published by

  210 60th Street

  Virginia Beach, VA 23451

  212-574-7939

  www.koehlerbooks.com

  Cover design by Donnie Ramsey

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  This book is dedicated to

  those who seek out the truth,

  and who will not settle for the lies.

  Table of Contents

  1 SWEET GOODBYES

  2 DECISIONS

  3 CONFESSIONS

  4 INTO TOWN

  5 INTRODUCTIONS

  6 TUTORIAL

  7 NOT FORGOTTEN

  8 THE ASSIGNMENT

  9 THE CREATURES

  10 ILLUSORY MINDS

  11 CHAMBERS

  12 PARTNERS FOREVER

  13 NOMADDAS

  14 QUEENIE

  15 ENLIGHTENMENT

  16 AGES

  17 TOMORROW

  18 A LIE

  19 REVELATION

  20 MOTHER

  21 AN ATTACK

  22 INTRODUCTIONS

  23 DECISIONS

  24 THE ATTACK

  25 THE DREAM

  26 JOURNEY

  27 THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS

  28 GRANDMOTHER

  29 GAIA

  30 THE PREMONITION

  31 HOME

  “The most dangerous thing you can do is educate people.

  Because when people become educated, you cannot control them, you cannot frighten them.”

  — Jordan Maxwell

  1

  SWEET GOODBYES

  MY MOM, my best friend, my life…I don’t have her anymore. Now I’m a stranger—even to myself. Without her I have no one to talk to, no one to confide in. How am I to go on living without her? I’m only sixteen and I still need her in my life, not just in my fading memories. I should run to her room. Maybe she’ll be on her bed reading her favorite book. I’ll show everyone just how wrong they were, how they lied to me. But I know she won’t be there. I pull my dark curls away for the hundredth time. When did I last brush my hair? Last week when mom yelled at me and told me to take pride in my appearance? Or was it just this morning when my aunt ordered me to clean up my act? I don’t remember and it doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing matters anymore.

  “Journey?” My aunt’s voice echoes through my pain.

  “I can’t do this,” I whisper to the stranger in the mirror.

  Her face seems so sad, surrounded by dark curly hair that flows past her shoulders. My eyes drop to the old jeans with holes in the knees. I don’t recognize this person and I definitely don’t want her judging me.

  “Journey?” the soft voice comes again. “Are you in here, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

  Aunt Deborah stands at my bedroom door crying. To look directly at her hurts too much, so I gaze at the girl in my mirror. I hate them both. I’ll never be okay again. My aunt slams the window shut with a loud bang.

  “You’ll catch your death of cold. Don’t you realize it’s freezing outside?”

  I sigh. “The cold feels good right now.” I blink back my tears. It’s the only thing I can think of to say. I have to say something no matter how stupid.

  “Journey, I know how painful this is for you. I can hardly handle it myself, but life goes on, dear. We all must go on.”

  Aunt Deborah slaps her hands together as she glances around my room. Her eyes betray her; she’s trying so very hard to look happy. There’s too much anger inside me right now to care. Could it be maybe she can’t deal with my mother’s death? As she stands with tears rolling down her bright red cheeks, maybe I do feel a little sorry for her. After all, she did just lose a sister. But I’ve lost a mother.

  She looks at me for a few brief moments before adding, “You really should change your clothes and put on a little makeup. You’re very pale this morning. Probably because you haven’t eaten in days.”

  Her eyes lower and she looks away. All I can think is how impossible it is for me to look any different than I feel—miserable.

  “Makeup?” I ask as I bite the corner of my lip. “Life might go on whether I like it or not. But don’t expect me to paint happiness on my face,” I glare at her. “And exactly who would I be fixing myself up for? Not him!”

  I can’t help but think about how different she looks from my mom. Being her only sister you’d think they’d be more alike.

  Aunt Deborah places her hands on my shoulders and tries to smile as another tear runs down her cheek. She starts to say something, but then stops. After a few silent moments, she whispers in my ear.

  “That him is your father, dear, whether you like it or not. He’s going to be here any minute, so pull yourself together. Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?”

  She must have realized that I didn’t agree with her, because she says the one thing that could change my mind.

  “If not for you, then for Makayah.” She leaves me alone with the girl in the mirror and I cringe as I watch another tear roll down her face.

  “Too far?” I ask as a wave of guilt and sadness rolls through me. My mom is dead and I’m taking it too far? That him is your father. I have to laugh at that one. Some father he turned out to be. I’ve not seen him, in what…five…six years? It’s as if he simply fell off the face of the Earth. It hurt when he left us. I was determined to get over him right away, but my mom and sister cried for months when he disappeared.

  “He’s working,” my mom would say, defending him.

  The truth was he just didn’t care about us anymore. Nope, when my dad divorced my mom, he also divorced me and my little sister.

  I continue to study the face that stares at me. All I can think about is being left alone with him. I want my mother.

  Aunt Deborah leaves and I flinch ever so slightly as I see, from the corner of my eye, my little sister walk into my room with her head hung low. Her eyes are swollen and red. She wraps her arms around herself and stares blankly up at me.

  “Hey,” Makayah says softly.

  Her pain is so intense, it comes off her in waves. My heart aches and I don’t know how to help. I used to know how to make her smile. But this time, I can’t.

  “Hey,” I say as she plops down on my bed.

  I turn to her. To face her is to also face the truth and I’m not sure if I’m ready. But this is my little sister.

  “Do you think Dad’s changed?” Makayah asks. Being ten doesn’t help when it comes to understanding everything life throws at you. I sit next to her. She has the dark, strong, features of our father: brown hair, dark bushy eyebrows, and huge smile. As always my heart melts.


  “Look,” I say, pulling her bangs to one side, exposing her amber eyes—the only feature we really share. “I can’t tell you whether Dad will be the same as we remember. All I know is that we really don’t know him anymore—if we ever did.”

  “I can’t believe Mom’s gone,” Makayah cries.

  I hug my sister. The fact that I can’t do anything to ease her pain makes my stomach hurt.

  “Girls?” Aunt Deborah yells from downstairs. “Come down, he’s here.”

  “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  I stand up, still holding Makayah’s hand, and look around my room for the last time. The closet and drawers are empty, my stuffed friends sit abandoned on my bed, and the walls are stripped of all my memories. I leave pulling Makayah behind me. Time seems to slow with every step we take down the hall.

  On the landing I hear his voice, and it’s like a punch to my stomach. I suddenly realize I’ve missed him. My heart skips a few beats as Makayah starts to cry.

  “Daddy!” She yells as she runs down the rest of the stairs. “Daddy!”

  He catches her as she flings herself off the last step. He grabs her and his eyes soften.

  “Hi, baby,” he says burying his face deep into her thick wavy hair. “I’ve missed you.”

  I watch for what seems like forever before he slowly raises his eyes to meet mine. My pain echoes back from his dark eyes. I can’t hold my feelings anymore. I run to him. He grabs me in his arms and I cry. It’s not easy to explain, but I suddenly feel safe in his presence. I think that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to live after all, as long as he’s there.

  Without saying a word, he guides me and my sister toward the waiting taxi. I see that our bags are no longer sitting by the front door and have been loaded into the taxi trunk. I’m glad, because every time I looked at our luggage everything became too real again. I just follow him without thinking. My aunt stands quietly by the door crying into a small white embroidered handkerchief. She gives us both a quick hug and kiss goodbye. But no words are spoken. My aunt’s tears say it all.

  The drive to the airport feels more like a release from the past than the start of a new future. The only time I ever left home before was to visit my father in Colorado, long ago. I watch as the world I know flashes by the taxi’s window. I lean back against my father’s chest and rest my head on his arm. Tears roll down my cheeks.

  On my father’s leg rests Makayah’s little hand. The loneliness I feel mirrors those five little fingers, alone on a vast empty stretch of a cold highway. Perhaps I will be okay one day, but I’m not sure I will ever be happy again.

  2

  DECISIONS

  THE CABIN, nestled deep in the mountains, gave me and Makayah a quiet place to heal.

  “It’s a great place to work out your feelings,” Dad said, when I asked why he brought us here. I don’t remember the plane ride, just waking up in my new room with a slight headache. I guess Aunt Deborah was right, and all the stress finally caught up with me. When my mom died, I thought I would die too. But my dad is right; this is a great place to put one’s thoughts in order.

  My father, George Gordon, knew that my sister and I needed some alone time. So here we are, in this cabin next to a large blue lake that reflects the sky. The closest neighbor is many miles away. All we have to entertain us are the songs of birds and the crisp breeze.

  Two huge mountain ranges surround the cabin. I don’t recognize either of them. But that isn’t saying much. They’re covered in snow now, but down here by the lake, the air is warm. All I need is a sweatshirt to walk along the water. I love staring up at the blue skies specked with puffy white clouds. A trail of dirt and crushed rock covers the ground from the cabin to about half way to the lake, and ends in a bed of beautiful roses. They’re in full bloom, and I’m enjoying the aroma.

  I watch from the front porch as my dad and Makayah stroll along the lake. My heart yearns for his attention, but at the same time I want to yell at him–make him hurt—just like he made us hurt for all those years.

  My dad’s a bioengineer working for some tech company here in Colorado. He’s assigned to a highly classified project. He and my mom had decided he could concentrate more if we were not with him. He met her at college where they were both studying biology. They’re the brains, not me. They went to Oxford—I’ll be lucky to graduate from community college. They were happy once, but for some reason they divorced. We only heard from him at Christmas and birthdays. It probably would have been nice to have a father around, but eventually I got used to it.

  My mom and sister, they never did. Many nights I could hear one or the other crying. Not me though. I may not be smart, but I’m strong. I was angry that Dad left us, but I will never cry for a man.

  Maybe it would be a good gesture if I join them. After all, my father was the one who said I needed to talk more about my feelings. I just don’t do that very well.

  The stair creaks as I hop onto the last step. I start out toward the lake when a truck rolls to a stop next to dad’s car. I don’t remember hearing an engine, but I’m not very observant. The truck surprises me. Over the last couple of months, we’ve not had even one visitor. A tall man, maybe in his early fifties, smiles as he gets out of his big ugly yellow truck and waves.

  “Hello. You must be Miss Journey.”

  I’m not sure what to say or do. The funny-looking man drove an ugly canary-yellow truck. It’s a little discomforting to have a stranger treat me as though he’s known me for years. But it’s important for me to be polite, so I nod my head acknowledging him.

  “Is your father home?” he asks. After nodding to the right, he stares at me and grins. I point in the direction of the lake, and he grins and nods to the right. I watch as he walks to where my dad and sister are throwing pebbles into the water. The man’s wearing what looks like an old bathrobe that’s weaved with different colors of ribbons and beads. As he walks, red and brown embroidered sandals flap against the soles of his feet. His overall look reminds me of a hippie from my grandparents’ teenage years. His hair is long, blonde and straight, almost white.

  Makayah comes running up to me. “Who’s that?”

  “Don’t know,” I reply, sitting down on the last step.

  My dad and the stranger continue talking until Makayah runs back down to eavesdrop. My dad must be introducing the stranger to her because she bounces up and down. They head back in my direction when my father points to me and waves. I wave back. Politeness is the least I can do. For some reason the stranger makes me nervous.

  “Journey?” my father hollers. “Journey Elizabeth.”

  Great. I really hate meeting new people. I always have. The stranger is tall, in fact too tall. He has to be way over six feet, maybe close to seven. His walk is almost a limp, but not quite. I shrug off my feelings. I wave to my father. I’m trying to look friendly.

  “This is Abeytu,” Dad says at last.

  “Hi, A-bee-to-you.” I don’t mean to stumble over his name. But it’s hard to say.

  “It’s pronounced A-bay-too and we’ve met,” Abeytu says. “Journey was polite enough to guide me to you. I must apologize, but you are your mother all over again Miss Journey. Just as beautiful.”

  I know he can see the hurt in my eyes as he stands there staring at me, and the compliment does hurt.

  “Thanks.” I lower my gaze.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said…” He starts to say something else, but my dad gives him an empathetic pat on the back.

  My heart stops and I’m angry at my father again for not sticking up for me by saying something, like Back off…She’s dead…Give the girl a break. Of course, that will never happen. This strange man meant no harm.

  “Let’s go inside,” Dad says. “How about a cold beer, my friend?”

  “Certainly.” Abeytu lowers his head and tilts it to the right—like he’s trying to nod. Man, if this guy isn’t weird.

  I sit on the porch swing and listen through t
he front windows. Everything seems normal enough, yet something is also wrong. I’ve never seen a man wear a bathrobe in public. Plus, his mannerisms are off somehow. There’s just something not right about this guy.

  Makayah runs out the door with two cans of soda and yells that she’ll be back in a few minutes. She tosses one of them to me. I catch the cold drink and shrug my shoulders as I watch her sprint down to the lake. It’s a comfort to know that she’s coping better than me. She’s already combed all the trails around the cabin. I prefer to stay closer to home. I haven’t even walked all the way around the lake yet.

  I look at the soda. It has a funny label, just like everything else. Maybe the stuff on the West Coast is labeled differently from the stuff on the East Coast. I pop the top, take a sip, and strain to hear their conversation.

  “You’ve got to say something to her soon,” Abeytu says to my dad.

  I take another sip. It’s weird, but this soda tastes sour.

  “Not yet,” Dad answers as he glances in my direction. I turn and stare out at the lake pretending to be looking for Makayah.

  When I look back, Abeytu is shaking his head and frowning.

  “You won’t be able to hide things much longer my friend. The skies will betray you.” Then he pats my father’s shoulder and adds, “She’ll be fine, George, give her some credit. After all, she is an Elder.”

  An elder? An elder what? Elder sister? What a strange thing to say.

  “She will not be fine, it’s too soon,” Dad huffs, throwing his empty can into the trash. He yanks another from the refrigerator.

  “Lectures start in less than two weeks, they will expect her to attend. She needs time to prepare. It’s not right to leave her in the dark like this.” His statement seems more like an order than a suggestion. With a look close to hatred, he takes another small sip of his drink.

  That’s when I notice what’s so peculiar about him. Abeytu is not enjoying his beer. In fact, he’s loathing it.

  My dad’s patience must be wearing thin as his voice raises. “She just lost her mother, Abeytu. How can they expect her to attend, before she’s even had a chance to fully heal?”