20
THE PATH TO SELF-DISCOVERY
Majestic mountain ranges surround the reflective surface of Draconis Lake, south of Vulcamura. Tucked away in a hollow, the Grimalkin Sanctuary marks the location where the surface reflects one’s true character. When difficulties overwhelm us, a healing retreat there bolsters our struggling spirits in the drifting fiery particles.”
“Let’s hope Kusing will withdraw to the solitude. Saving others at her own expense tares her down one little piece at a time. In so doing, she loses touch with herself. In the end, she will never delve into a genuine relationship.”
“Nothing can cure prophecy, Mandagral. Anyway, in cub’s stories, we call Grimalkin the Place of the Gray Cat. Kita would love to tell you the tale of its discovery, Dradda Mandagral.”
“Impressive, I shall ask her. Now, tell me what the Mandragora discovered.”
With a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, she rested her head on her paws.
“What does a Mandragora plan to do with her one, feral and priceless life? First, they identify two unhealthy kinds of lives. Either they pretend everything is all right, or they deal with a haggard existence.”
“Ah, I understand. Shattered hearts scream in silent pain.”
Hands folded in prayer; she closed her eyes.
“Those who are crushed by failure sniff out the difference between surviving and thriving. How does a feline live a spirited life which bounces back from suffering?”
Pausing, her voice took on a thoughtful inflection.
“Also, some hunters run-to-ground the reason why their spirits are unfulfilled.”
“What a deep insight! Introspection soothes my soul. How I would love to reflect in the shrine for a while. The vague remnant of something wicked haunts my nightmares, coiled beneath my pillow like a snake.”
“How interesting you would bring the subject up, looking over her shoulder. Kiisu will rendezvous with Shawmow at Hi Gami’s holy place to appeal for rare antibiotics. Her influence with the Leopard Goddess might sway him to sterilize your mysterious demon.”
“Being purified by a fire god strikes me as an extreme measure. Let’s forget I ever mentioned phantoms.”
“The Purifier’s fortress defends Vulcamura, the base of operations for our architect clan. The newneyow’s mansions arises from the marshlands by the sweat of their toil.”
“Ah, I wondered who constructed your remarkable cottages?”
“These simple dens do not compare with the marvels they grafted at Ocelomura. Over the ages, their skills honeycomb our legends.” Caution trembled Maow’s voice.
“Before the wonders of Ocelomura, your voyage will take you to Plamura, in the vicinity of Cretinbeast Marsh. Noxious fumes called crapulous mist often inebriate the mammals which wander the wasteland.”
She sighed.
“Immune to the gas, the oversized amphibian lashes out with its sticky tongue and swallows its intoxicated victim alive. The Cretinbeast digests them for weeks and coughs up their skeleton days later in the muddy water. One of the denizens of Plamura prowls, searching for her lost kitten. Now, Plamura seeks retribution against the toad-skinned beast.”
My head shuddered from the same revulsion that tainted my voice.
“Such a toxic monster would, no doubt, upset our stomachs if we served the putrid amphibian’s legs on a crisp dish of revenge. Anyway, Ocelomura appears captivating.”
Maow gazed in the bottom left corner of the ornate rendering. “In a rare Hesperus tree jungle, situated near the end of the
Zenhandua, our master builders cultivated Ocelomura. These branching, cobalt miracles of Divine Providence date back to antiquity and never cease to grow. The grafted chateaus thrive with the trunk, taking part in the tree’s life.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rooted in Terradon Prime, their bark attunes to our words and, in a fashion, can sing. Now, let’s pick a new topic, I do not want to spoil the surprise for you.”
“What If I do not desire to leave?”
“I guess Pushiri would not mind the upgrade but stay cautious!” With a quick glance at the map, she visibly shuddered.
“What alarms you?”
“Ambush Pass! If an enemy comes through the canyon... Worse yet, pterosaurs travel this far downstream, hunting for fish for their young, which hatch over here in the Granite Mountains.”
“The peril does sway my opinion.”
“The inhabitants of Ridgemura, at your next stop, report hiding from them at dusk. Be wary when you wake up. Complacency kills. Strict rules govern their travel, always stalk in prides, never alone or in a pair.”
Maow pointed at the Southwest corner.
“After collecting your last group of newneyow, you will embark on the final portion of your adventure.”
[On Earth]
Alexandra plopped in her bed, exhausted from a fruitless day’s investigations. “Maybe the Journal will give me a clue, if nothing else, about myself.”
January 16th
Today I conversed with a version of Bebella and yearned for her genuine self to benefit from my insights. Obvious to her, I admired her painstaking self-reinvention. Yet, she wears a costume, or more fitting, a human mask, careful not to lower the disguise. Each drink she received from me, she sipped, albeit, from the other side of her veil. In consequence, she lives a lonely life, unwilling to listen to anyone who possesses the ability to understand her. Every person bears an intrinsic responsibility for the life they each chose. Still, her path and mine crossed, unignorable.
[At Rachel’s House]
A quick triple knock at the door summoned Rachel.
“Hello Alexandra. Hand me your wet raincoat and sit anywhere, but not on dad’s recliner.”
“Thanks to our exhaustive work, a break in the investigation gives me hope, Rachel!”
Rachel interrupted Alexandra. “Janus’ father dropped in.”
“Perfect, I need a minute with him.”
Leaning forward, she peeped around the corner of the well-built 1950s style home. Mahogany panels and the sweet scent of rosin made their conditions inviting. The roomy home sprang to life with frolicking, skipping children, wrestling with their grandfather.
“Pa-paw, come to the door please.”
A tall man with lines covering his earth-brown skin and an athletic build arose from the pile of juveniles.
“Wait, I’ll be right back gentlemen and my young lady.”
Their laughter at his absurd idea of their adulthood brought an overdue smile to Alexandra’s face.
“His way with them reminds me so much of Janus’ way, Alexandra.”
“Charles, say hi to Alexandra, Your son’s partner.”
Reaching out his muscular arm, he kissed her hand.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance Alexandra. Please sit down.”
“He’s a charmer, Rachel.”
“No words in Heaven or on Earth describe how unbelievable he behaves. The ladies flock after him.”
Rachel blushed.
“Anyway, down to business. I rushed over because I found out more about Diana’s disappearance. This information will help us find Janus.”
Charles cut them short. Thus, saith the Lord, “...Form dust thou art and unto dust thou shalt return.”
Crying, he lashed out.
“Diana will commit your investigation to the grave.”
Turning his back, with his adventuresome brood in tow, he slurred his words.
“Damn your search.”
Rachel’s words resonated with apology.
“The old coot refuses to talk about ‘that’ woman who abandoned him.”
Alexandra did not stutter.
“Also, twelve people vanished in front of witnesses across North America. Now check this out, every single one goes by Diana. Besides, their photos are identical, except for their clothing and hair style.”
Janus’s partner spread out twelve pictures of indistinguishable, thirty-year-old brunette women, each with a different last name.
“The times of their disappearances spanned three generations. Only a fool would believe they are the same woman. And the situation gets stranger. Each birthed one son. The women all vanished on their baby’s first birthday! Moreover, in the older cases, two of the adult children also disappeared about twenty-eight years after their mothers did. The remaining adolescents still live with their remarried fathers.”
Outside, a hooded man peered from the dusky shadows, holding a vintage raven-colored doctors’ bag.
21
THE PRESENCE OF POËS
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Stay, rest a while, smell each flower that’s growing.
Put your feet in the river, feel the water flowing,
Look above at the bright skies, and then look around.
Watch the night flickers sparkle, close to the ground,
Move slowly, so slowly in the middle of night.
For this could be the last time your heart will delight.
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With half the night left, strange images flooded my mind and vanished like fog in the sunlight. In a near silent voice, I spoke to myself.
“I need a break.”
Peering over my shoulder, I escaped under the cover of the darkness.
Later I crossed paths with Poës. Out of respect for her quiet nature, I only nodded my head. Just as I expected, she wrapped her right arm around me and rested her head on my shoulder.
My nostrils tingled with the aroma of the sweet suckle she tumbled in earlier. The planets of the Terradon Solar System aligned, satisfying me with contentment. My cohort motioned with her tail toward the long, less-traveled way to her den. Soon, we passed by the monument Leopardmura erected to the memory of their renowned Second-Epoch leader, Kersusu. Pondering the reflective surface of the lagoon, we consider Kersusu’s epitaph.
The words on the stone altered my world.
“Once I stood where you stand to bow, and view the dead, as you do now. The time draws near when you will no longer exist, the same as I. Even so, others will bid you a tearful goodbye.”
In each other, we perceived the inevitable, if not unintended changes shaped by the chiseled inscription.
“Should tomorrow not witness our lives, would we still carry out our plan?”
Inconspicuous, we slipped through the foliage, into her cottage, and curled up in her palm. Like magic, Terradon Prime transformed into the perfect place. Wherever the monsters lurk now, they aren’t here.
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At grill time, Khatool’s eyes locked on Bob with a telepathic expression the Mandragora would recognize. Sheepish that she might attract the wrong kind of attention, she distanced herself from the picturesque felines. In the shadows, beyond earshot, she wolfed down her medium-rare goredor ribs as though the creature still breathed.
Her symptomatic age already achieved what her self-isolating behavior intended yet begged for unwelcome whispers from the matchless gathering.
“How archaic and lonely, conjuring up her bygone dream.”
“She would spread her antiquated ideals like an infection.”
“Stay away from her.”
“Near the end of her life, she falls prey to delusions.”
“Like always, she imagines herself the quintessential feral leopard, fierce-blooded, invisible, on top of the food chain. Nostalgia deludes her into believing the way-we-never-occurred on Terradon Prime.”
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“Does she not know predators capable of swallowing her whole stalk this planet.”
In her private fantasia, Khatool rehearsed the hackneyed phrases and trite remarks of her victory speech.
“In the time of the Fushu and Furrina, our ancestors made the pilgrimage to the holy pool. Male and female, abreast, they bathed in the sparkles drifting on the water. Our eyes awakened to behold the first and brightest of the evening stars. In those ancient times, we hunted with pure savagery...”
The outcast whispered to herself. “I’ll teach them some respect.”
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Nearby, Maow waved at Kita.
“The Mandagral wants to hear the legend of the Place of the Gray Cat.”
Kita raced around the fire. “Where are you, Dradda?”
Sharp eyes gave way to her sensitive nose as she traced my odor along the suspended rope bridges. Into the cracked-open entryway, she leaped and halted short of our purring sleep.
Time dragged on for Kita... until version two of the kitten pile-on took effect. Like a weasel, she slid in with us and began to fidget us awake.
“I will not miss my debut as Grand Storyteller.”
Eager to impress us, her mind sorted out the drama with which she would embellish the handed-down accounts. Time crawled as Kita grew more impatient. Unable to contain herself, she jutted her claws on my back end.
Like a frog, I sprang and examined the unexpected sting. My childlike vexation giggled.
“Sorry, Dradda.”
The excitement aroused my drowsy playmate.
Grasping my little pain in the backside by her hind paws, I pretended to gnaw her leg off.
The cub-genius struggled as though she might die of the make- believe wounds.
“Don’t eat me Dradda. I’ll change my ways.”
True to her gentle disposition, my overprotective companion snatched Kita, cradling the uninhibited cub in her arms.
“Maow told me you asked about the Place of the Gray Cat, Dradda.”
Unrolling the furry rug, I reclined and gestured for Poës to join me.
“Enlighten us, oh great narrator.”
Prompted by my cue, my attentive stagehand placed Kita on the stand next to her leaf.
The young prodigy donned her intelligent face like a stage mask and cleared her clogged throat.
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“In the First Epoch, Fushu of Vulcamura served as guardian and guide for the healer, Furrina. Born into perpetual blackness, her mommeo taught her colors by using temperatures and textures.”
“Over the decades, Grand-Dradda Fushu’s spots turned grey with a snowy background. Therefore, his cubs nicknamed him Gray Cat.”
“One day, the now famous curationist needed to collect medicines at the beaches of Draconis Lake. Darker than a crow-black night, Conflagration’s flight cast a startling moon-shadow. The cautious pair darted for concealment. Sensing no danger, they changed course to track the sound a distant waterfall.”
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Mimicking an old voice, Kita imitated their movements.
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“The water beckons me, Frushu.”
“Each slash of his claws cleared a path to the shoreline. In this righteous place, he beheld little enchanted glitters floating in the basin. Whether by miracle or wizardry, his life unfolded in the reflection. Every fragile belief, every misguided action, and every frustrated emotion began to align themselves with the truth. No desires clouded his judgment; no frail believes remained. His buried wisdom surfaced like the first star of the night. With renewed focus, he understood the meaning of his life.”
“An idea popped into his head, spurring him to pick up a shell and dip the enraptured water in her mouth. Next, he tilted Furrina’s head back and rinsed her eyes.”
“Flakes of skin fell from them, revealing their natural emerald hue. ‘I
see you!’”
“A new vision thrills me too, unlike before.”
“Naming this place will require no effort. How does Grimalkin sound?”
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Pride flashed across Kita’s face.
“Ever since, we called the enshrined pond, The Place of the Gray Cat.”
With warm side rubs, I removed Kita from her make-shift podium.
“Your dramatic description entertained us. Tell Maow you performed above my expectations.”
“Right away, Dradda.”
As Kita scampered out the door, I cuddled with my fourteen- year-old sidekick. Once again, we felt the subtle yet world altering transformation born of a cub’s a story. Our penetrating silence reigned over any replete combination of words the Mandragora ever contrived.
With one mind, we reflected on Kita, who would remain as innocent as her mother.
Precious little remaining time motivated me to outwit my story- wielding hunter.
Poës winked and wiggled out the back window in response to my thoughts. Not far behind, I mirrored her acrobatics for fifteen minutes, witnessed only by the surrounding jungle.
The cool breeze bore the scent of lilacs. Enjoying the fragrance, we paused in reflection under the crowded constellations.
Before my astronomer’s eyes, the heavens displayed an unfamiliar face. Countless times I recalled studying them, but from where? Poës, alone, made sense in this secluded place, adapting every second to her ever-changing self. Only her immediate life gave her definition.
When I focused on her, my concerns faded, and contentment assumed residence in my heart. I recalled the distinct moment when determination welled up in my mind, intent on making a difference.
In one of those rare moments, I spoke to myself.”
“Now, I belong. Tomorrow, elsewhere, I will remake my life on Terradon Prime. Otherwise, living here will recreate me. In either case, I anticipate a long journey.”
After I arrived back at the village, Pushiri greeted me. “How are you?”
“With a little help from Poës, I seized the time to care for myself.”
“We all understand her. Sage insights crowns Poës’ short life with the diadem of presence. Inspired, her paws close and open in harmony with her world. If only elongated talons or relaxed palms suited her, paralysis would arrest her muscles. A creature’s deepest impression exists in their small contractions and expansions. These two responses match the balanced and timed wings of a hummingbird.”
My claws extended but something deep within me did not want to retract them.
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