Dance of the Phoenix - Ch1

PROLOGUE

The infant’s cries echoed off the brick walls of the dank, grimy alley as it lay in the arms of its dead mother. It was a girl. She had been born only minutes ago and the mother, drug addled and weak, was left with just enough life to look upon her daughter’s face for a mere second. Then death came. Terrified and hungry, the baby girl continued to scream and lucky for her, those cries did not go unheard.

Floating in the space between dimensions, a disembodied spirit was drawn towards the sound. When it saw the child, it was filled with sadness and pity. The baby girl was tiny and it was obvious she would not last long without intervention.

I must help this poor creature.

Silently, the spirit entered the child’s world and ever so gently approached her. Abruptly, the baby stopped crying and stared up in wonder.

“There there, my sweet. Everything will be alright. I am here to help you.”

With those reassuring words, the spirit slowly poured itself into the small body, intending to give it strength until help arrived. But it was too late. With a cry of dismay, the spirit felt the child’s life drain away as if it were its own, until the spirit was the only consciousness left. Lost in the pain and confusion of death, the spirit’s awareness began to fade.

“Kaido, my love. I am sorry. Please find me.”

After that final sentient thought, it forgot.

FINDING HOME

The forest called to me. It sang to me in shades of green, the scent of pine and damp earth. Here was where I felt most at home, where I felt safe and completely at peace. Now, that is. It hadn’t always been this way; not until I had come here to Franklin, a small town situated in the Nantahala Forest of North Carolina. I breathed deep, inhaling the sweet perfume and watched as a squirrel quickly scampered up a tree. Birds of all kinds whistled and chirped happily from above. I smiled slightly and whistled back. Butterflies danced in fluttering synchronicity and I watched them too, fascinated, as one landed gently upon my palm. The sun played hide and seek among the trees, finding the gaps in which to cast down its warming rays; unseasonably warm rays considering it was supposed to be Fall. There had been rain this morning and the water drops sparkled as the sun hit them, giving a magical display, though it had done nothing to ease the heat. If anything, it had made it hotter as the humidity levels climbed. Nevertheless, the whole forest felt magical, like it was on the verge of revealing a great and mysterious secret. The atmosphere seemed to quiver with anticipation, waiting for me to make the grand discovery. These solitary trips to the forest were my escape. They were essential to my wellbeing. It was deep amongst nature where I truly felt I could be myself, or at least the me that I had recently become.

Today’s trek felt no different to any other. I had lived in Franklin for half a year now and had come to know the Nantahala Forest like a true local. It was a kindred spirit that had called out to me and I had answered the call. Like a moth to the flame, I had been drawn here, my restless heart refusing to settle until the moment I had arrived. After only a month or so, I could walk through this forest blindfolded and not trip over a single root or stone. However, unbeknown to me, this particular little adventure was going to change my life. In essence, I guess I could say this is when I was born for the second time. Up until now, I had merely existed, drifting through life without a purpose, going through the motions, never feeling complete.

I meandered slowly through the trees, taking my time to enjoy the pleasant company and shade the forest provided when suddenly, I was overcome with the sense of being watched. I stopped walking and stood completely still, hardly even daring to breathe. I wasn’t afraid. There was no sense of foreboding or danger and I could feel no threatening presence. If anything, I was curious. Slowly, I turned on the spot, peering intently into the forest on all sides. A flicker of movement drew my eye and I quickly turned to face that direction, but I was too slow. I heard the rustling as whatever had been there quickly moved on. I considered chasing it, then immediately dismissed the idea. Whatever it was would already be long gone. Instead, I walked over to where I thought it had been hiding and studied the ground. If I couldn’t chase it, maybe I could track it. I needed to know what it had been. I knew this forest. I knew every creature, every tree, every stream, every rock. But this was something else, something I didn’t know; something enigmatic and enchanting. It felt as though I was standing on a ledge and the forest was waiting for me to jump into open oblivion. I studied the ground carefully. To my surprise, and dismay, I could see no signs of disturbance. Had I imagined it all? My heart was pounding and my body coursed with adrenalin. No. Something had been here and it had been watching me. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place. Absently, I glanced above me and my eyes caught something perched on the branch just above my head. It was a feather; a deep, rich red coloured feather. I reached up to snatch it from the tree’s grasp but the cheeky wind beat me to it. The feather danced as the wind carried it away. Follow me, it seemed to say as it twirled and twisted, dipped and soared on the petulant breeze. Where? I asked silently. Where will you take me? For a split second, the feather hung motionless. Was it waiting for me? And then I blinked. When I opened my eyes, the feather was gone and for reasons I couldn’t explain, a tear slipped silently down my cheek.

************

The rain returned with the night sky and I sat curled up in my favourite armchair. A book rested on my lap, open though it had been several hours since I had turned a page. The ceiling fan whirred quietly, the only other noise aside from the rain. Absently, I took a sip of tea from the mug I held between my hands and stared out the window. My head was full of memories; memories from a life that I felt I’d lived a thousand years ago, yet in reality, was only a few. I could see myself in these memories, though it was a different version of me; a happier version. I saw myself smiling and laughing, having fun like any normal person in the prime of their life. That was where I had been; in the prime of my life. I was a free spirited twenty-three-year-old, ignorant to the rigors and hardships of life. I’d lived in Miami, Florida, and my life had consisted of endless days at the beach, my boyfriend Ethan and messy weekends binge drinking and dancing. By day, I had worked as a barista in an upbeat little café on the beach, which was funding my studies as a dance student at the University of Miami. Dance had been my passion from the moment I had come into this world, and I had big plans. I was going to dance my way into the Hollywood Hall of Fame and mingle with the rich and famous. Everyone told me I could do it and I believed them, but more importantly, I believed in myself. I wasn’t conceited. I didn’t come into this life thinking that everything would be handed to me on a silver platter or fed to me from a silver spoon. I expected to work hard to get where I wanted to be, and work hard is what I had done. Then, everything changed, or more accurately, I changed. It happened gradually, with a heightening of my senses and emotions. I began to feel everything on a much deeper level than I had ever experienced before. At first it had felt amazing, like I was on a permanent high induced by the sweetest drug on the market. Everything felt new, shiny and exciting. Even sadness was marred with traces of wonder and bliss. I could feel so intensely despondent that somehow, it took on a feeling of ecstasy and profound euphoria. Not only that, those feelings of sadness, grief and despair made the opposite emotions much more pungent in a delightfully vivid way. The ground beneath my feet felt softer and more luxurious, the air smelled sweeter and my eyes saw the world in a psychedelic mass of colour. But that euphoria didn’t last long as I soon began to feel and sense everyone around me. Everything they felt, I felt too. It even happened with animals, which was a rather bizarre experience. I could see into them – humans and animals alike – as though they were transparent, and it soon became a burden, a weight that I could barely carry. I didn’t know what was happening. How could one person feel so much? How could a person feel what another person felt as if it were their own? Then, I began to feel sick. One day, my head started spinning and I collapsed in the middle a dance routine, landing awkwardly and injuring my knee to such an extent that it needed surgery. The doctors had told me at the time that they weren’t sure if I would ever dance again. That had been an enormous blow. From there, it just continued in a downward spiral of various debilitating symptoms. I was tired all the time, no matter how much sleep I got. My body ached constantly and no number of painkillers, chiropractors, physios or massage therapists could help. Food disgusted me. Just the thought of eating made me want to vomit and as a result, the weight fell off me and I became dreadfully thin. I was constantly cold, even if I was wearing warm clothes and in bed under several thick blankets. That one confused me – and the doctors – the most. More so when my body temperature read lower than normal and my lips took on a blueish tinge.

Eventually, with great despair and anguish, I had to give up my dance studies. For the next four years, my life became a series of doctor visits and medical examinations until I had a file as thick as a dictionary yet no diagnosis. They took so much blood from me I wondered how there was still any left. I lost interest in all the things I had once loved and fell into a deep depression. Things became very bleak. More and more I sought solitude, turning down invitations from friends or telling them I wouldn’t be home if they wanted to visit. Next came the dreams. I would dream of forests and of one specific forest; the Nantahala. But it wasn’t an ordinary dream. I had heard of lucid dreaming before but had never experienced it until these dreams began. It was incredible! The dreams were so realistic and so life-like that I felt I was physically there. The gentle breeze and warmth of the sun brushed my skin. Warmth! I had forgotten what being warm felt like. I’d never actually been to the Nantahala Forest, so I should not have known that there was a waterfall in that precise location, or that there were cliffs over that way to the north. But I did. The rich, earthy scent that filled my nostrils should not have raised feelings of nostalgia and familiarity, as though I had experienced it before. But they did. I became obsessed with these dreams. They promised answers and an uninterrupted, all-consuming peace such as I had never known. I couldn’t get enough. Any chance I could get, I slept, taking a pill – or two – if I needed it.

My parents were at their wits end and didn’t know what to do with me. They soon became convinced that it must be all in my head and began to push me into therapy sessions, berating me to get over it and get on with life. Well, they were not actually my real parents. I had been adopted when I was a baby. Apparently, I had been found in the arms of a dead woman – my birth mother. Drawn by the screams of birth, a young couple had come running only, they were too late. Both mother and baby were dead. The young man, trained in first aid had pumped on my little chest, determining my life was worth saving more than the junkie mother. Heroin had been her drug of choice. She probably hadn’t even been aware she was pregnant until she gave birth. Extremely malnourished and riddled with illness, giving birth had been the last straw and her body gave out. There was no way to know who my biological father was. For all anyone knew, he could be some horrible man who had raped the senseless woman. The young man managed to get my heart beating just as the paramedics arrived. After that, I was unloaded to Child Protective Services where I stayed until Vince and Gina found me. I get the feeling now that they wish they had chosen someone different. In most regards, they were nice people and admittedly, life with them had been pretty good until I became sick. I suppose their patience could only extend so far, which probably made it a good thing they had never adopted a second child. Our relationship became tense. Both Vince and Gina chastised me on throwing my life away to foolishness, nagging me to give up this ruse, admit I was mentally unstable and stop looking for attention. We had numerous arguments that would leave me in tears on the floor of my bedroom, unable to get up. I wasn’t crazy. Wouldn’t I know it if I was? Or maybe not. Maybe not knowing you were crazy is what made you crazy. True, my mind did not function how it once had, but I was still rational and logical. In any case, I did not appreciate being told I was making it all up because I was not, and I would never admit to such a thing.

One by one, my friends dropped away, fed up with the fact that I never went out anymore. Ethan stuck with me the longest, however he too eventually lost patience. I wasn’t exactly thrilling company. Life became unbearable. I was lonely, depressed, sick and sick of being sick. Seeing as I had nowhere else to go, I was forced to put up with the pain of staying at my parent’s house until, one night, I finally realized what the dreams were trying to tell me. I was meant to go to the Nantahala Forest. Somehow, I knew that if I went there, I would feel better. I had still been working at the café a few times a week and living at home while studying had allowed me to save a little bit of money. I just hoped it was enough to get me started; to at least get me to Franklin and see me through until I found work. There was even a college nearby where I could pick up my dance Degree again if I wanted to. I doubted it would ever come to that, but it was nice to know the option was available.

“You want to go where?” My mother had exclaimed when I told my parents. My father looked at me blankly, as if I had told him I wanted to move to Antarctica.

“I want to move to Franklin.” I poured all the confidence I had left into this conversation. I wanted them to think I was moving on, getting on with life; which is exactly what they wanted. “It will be a fresh start for me,” I added with a smile that I hoped appeared genuine.

My parents looked at each other. I couldn’t really tell what they were thinking. It seemed they didn’t know what to think either.

“I’ve already done my research,” I told them. “There are small houses for rent and there is a college where I can continue my studies if it comes to that. I spoke with Miami Uni and it isn’t a difficult process to transfer me and I’ve already searched for jobs as well.”

“I….” Vince stammered. “I don’t know what to think. This is all so sudden.”

“You both want me to get on with life, right?”

“Well, yes…” Gina began.

“This is the best way for me to do that. It will be a good experience to be out on my own for a while, learn how the world works, how to take care of myself.” I didn’t know why they were hesitating. They were fed up with me anyway. I thought this would have made them happy.

“It’s a big decision to make, Eirwin, and not one to be taken lightly,” admonished my father. It was meant to sound like parental advice only, it came out as patronizing.

“I know. That’s why I have thought it over for a couple of weeks and made sure I’ve got everything figured out beforehand.” Since they seemed to need reminding, I added, “I’m not exactly a kid anymore.”

“We know that,” my mother conceded. “It’s just that, with everything that has been going on, this doesn’t seem to make sense. I mean, it’s been four years, Eirwin. Four years wasted!” She paused to rub her temples. “Why now?”

“Got nothing to lose by trying do I? Like you said, I’ve already wasted four years. I don’t want to waste any more.” I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“Did you talk this over with Dana?”

“Yes,” I lied. Dana was my current psychologist and I had most definitely not spoken to her about this. If I was to tell her I’d been having dreams of a forest that called to me, she would write me off as crazy for sure. “She thinks it’s a great idea. A change of scenery will do me a world of good.” Now stop being so condescending and just let me go, I pleaded silently.

“Well, I guess your mind is made up then.” Did I imagine it or did I see a look of relief pass across both my parent’s faces? Yes, I thought bitterly, your burdensome daughter is leaving.

“When do you plan to make the move?” Mom asked, trying a little too hard to hide her eagerness.

I squashed the hurt deeper and answered, “As soon as I have everything packed.”

“Would you like any help?” The offer was made from obligation. I was not supposed to accept.

“No. I’ll be fine.” I smiled at them again, wishing I could glower instead. “I’m going to go get started.”

Later that night as I was making my way to the kitchen for a drink, I overheard Vince and Gina talking in the living room.

“What does it matter?” Vince was asking.

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem, responsible, to send her off in the state that she is in. She should be in a psych ward, not moving out on her own, of all the stupid things to do,” an exasperated Gina replied.

Vince brushed her off. “Let her go. Quite frankly, I’ll be happy to see her gone. I’m so sick of her moping around the place like she’s dying. Seriously.” I knew he would be shaking his head in that way he always did when he was fed up. “I mean, I have problems as well. So do you, so do a lot of other people and we all get on with it. She should too.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right but is it, responsible? I don’t want to look like bad parents.”

I huffed out a sardonic laugh. She wasn’t worried about me. She was worried about what others would think of her.

“What do you think people are thinking already?” Vince asked. “It will be better for her to go off on her own. We can give her some money so we don’t come across as completely apathetic.”

“Well, I suppose. But not too much money. We want to buy that boat after all,” Gina giggled like a teenager plotting their next prank. It made me sick.

These people had raised me and yet they could carelessly toss me aside like a used condom. I gritted my teeth to stop myself from crying. They weren’t worth my tears. I just had to get out and I would never have to see them again.

“Of all the kids we could have picked…” was the last thing I heard Vince mutter as I walked away.

Within the week, I was gone. I found a quaint little house for rent – the house I currently occupy – packed my things and left. Now that I am here, I haven’t exactly found what I was looking for, what it was that drew me here. Not yet anyway. But it is here. I can feel it in the depths of my core; something warm, something thaumaturgic, captivating and all together wonderful. With it, comes the pleasant sensation one experiences when coming home. That is where I am. I am home and I will never look back.

Continue reading chapter two here: