June 24, 2019. Looking through a box full of pictures, I found this one picture of my niece Kaitlen and me. We were at a restaurant, and we just took this picture without posing or thinking about it. I remember it was close to Christmas and her first birthday and we had such a great time. I wish I could go back in time and relive those moments with my family.
I wish I could find the film to this picture so I could make it digital. I love this girl. She is 19 years old and in college. Time has gone by too fast, but I do have the memories of these great little people that have become great adults.
“What was that?” June awoke, startled. She looked at her clock: 3:23 a.m. Every night she would wake at 3:23 a.m., sometimes from a nightmare, other times with night terrors, and still others just from habit. Tonight though, something different had woken her. Wrapped up in her blankets like a June taco, her brown hair all tossed around, she lay wide awake listening hard. Although now all was quiet around her, and even her dog was lying asleep peacefully in his bed, she felt certain neither the wind nor the birds, not even a nightmare, had woken her. In her mind, she could still hear a sound.
Champ was June’s trusty companion and protector, a large black Labrador retriever who still believed he was a puppy. He had heard the BOOM, the glass breaking, and the BANG. On each occasion Champ’s head had gone up, but just as he was about to bark and start his protective stance, he heard the command, “Down! Wait! Sleep!” Like an obedient dog, he had gone back to sleep.
June gave a big sighing yawn. Another bad dream perhaps—good thing I don’t remember. But tonight, I am notscared. I’m thirsty, my mouth is dry and I am hungry, but I am notafraid. What’s a woman to do?
“Champ, we have to get a snack! What do you think?”
The dog lifted his head toward the sound of his name. Everything was dark and even the night-light was off.
“Weird. It’s too quiet tonight! I can barely hear the wind.” June stopped for a second, still thinking it was a noise that had woken her. She took a deep breath to find her balance before getting out of bed. June was a petite woman with brown hair and blue-green eyes. She liked to say she was a mutt with no pedigree. Her father had been a physicist, a white man from New York. Her mother, in June’s words, was ‘your guess is as good as mine’. June’s mother left her family when June was ten. She disappeared or was murdered or kidnapped. The family never knew what happened. The case was still open. The family had gone to a Christmas dinner at her dad’s parents’ house, but her mom had stayed home. When they returned the day after Christmas, the house had been ransacked and June’s mom was gone. That day, her father started to die, and the family began to disintegrate.
Although Champ was a big dog, he slept like a sphinx with his front paws spread forward and his head lying in between them, but at the sound of the slightest noise, his head sprung up in a regal way—not tonight though. Tonight, he had been given a command by one other than his mistress, with the power to make him obey. Nevertheless, the moment June called on him, Champ jumped to attention and found his way directly to her. June’s legs were scarred and so were her wrists. Her mind needed rest, and sometimes she would seek out release on her own body, but Champ loved her just the same.
“Come on, Champ, let’s go to the kitchen. I’m hungry.”
There was no street lamp because the light had been busted for six long years. June would leave her house porch light on every night, but tonight it was out. The house was pitch black. Flick, flick the switch, no light—a power outage perhaps. Looking for the flashlight on the night table, June knocked the book she had been reading before bedtime, then jumped at the thud. After all these months, her shaky nerves made her upset. Still, this was her house. No need to fear. She found her flashlight and went to the kitchen to get her snack.
All right, June, think! If there were any intruders, Champ would have been barking up a storm. Maybe the winds brought down a power line! Yes, a downed power line has happened before, and it may happen again.
As they walked to their bedroom door, mistress and dog yawned. June no longer worried much about anything in their big, old house. But as she pushed open her bedroom door completely, a faint light came from the first floor.
Strange, thoughtJune.Maybe there was a power outage, and some fuses blew in the house. The night-light in the first-floor bathroom must be on.
“Come on boy, let’s go.”
June walked down the stairs that led toward the front door. She turned left, but the faint light came from the kitchen, not the guest bathroom. She walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. She could see an orange light pulsating, shining from underneath the bottom crack of the kitchen door.
“You crazy dog. I have never seen a mongrel more gluttonous than you. Did you wake up earlier and enjoy a midnight snack? You know better than to open the fridge door.” June smirked. “Or better yet, you know you are not supposed to get in the refrigerator at all! Funny dog!” Ohhhhh, wait a minute, the light of the fridge is white, not orange.
Like any living, hot-blooded woman, curiosity got the better of her and she told herself she was notscared.June had to take a look. As she opened the kitchen door, the first thing she sensed was the smell of rotten fruit. Did the peaches go rotten?
In an instant, she felt warmth and tranquility. However, what caught June by surprise was the fact the light emanated from a small box on the kitchen table. It was a wooden box in the shape of a miniature treasure chest with no particular markings. That tiny box emitted an entire display of light and heat, and the tantalizing, peaceful hush of a we-will-be-singing-kumbaya-in-any-minute feeling. June could not take her eyes off the container.
“Hey, this warm light is mesmerizing,” she said to Champ. “Why aren’t you barking? Okay, I gotta tell you, I have to touch it. I gotta know if this thing is hot.”
As June approached the box, she noticed the same degree of warmth could be felt as at the entrance of the kitchen.
Without even touching it, this box feels really warm. But it’s too small.“I can’t see where the batteries go. Would they go on the bottom? Those must be some peculiar kind of batteries! Maybe they’re the little round ones.”
Champ just looked at his mistress. He was used to her talking to him.
“Oh shoot, a pulsating light—heat from a small object. This must be RADIOACTIVE!”
June’s heart skipped a proverbial beat. She jumped and moved as fast as she could until her back hit a nearby wall. She never took her eyes off the box.
“Champ, stay away. This thing may be dangerous… How in the world did this thing get inside my house and on my table?”
Only then did she see the broken windowpane on the kitchen door. Fear overtook her in a millisecond.
June left the kitchen as fast as her legs could move. Frantically, she fell over a kitchen chair, and on her way to the ground, she hit a corner table by the door and knocked over a vase filled with wildflowers. Water spilled all over the floor and doused her arms, chest, and hands. Champ got in her way. June got up fast, but skidded on the dirty water and landed on her butt, then ran ungracefully out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and out through the front door.
Once outside she took some calming breaths, but the anti-anxiety breathing technique always gave her gas. She tried mindfulness. That was not the best thing to do when presented with a radioactive box. Think reason … just think!She knew if the box was radioactive, she and Champ were already exposed, so she needed to get the container out of the house fast.
Her home, her sanctuary, was now contaminated by radioactivity. June considered using her broom to push the mysterious object out of her house, but then everything the box touched would end up contaminated. Therefore, and without thinking of calling for help from professionals, she quickly entered the house and walked directly through her hallway to the kitchen. She looked at the kitchen door—the door leading to the backyard—and was reminded of the broken glass pane. The door was also ajar. Could the person who broke the glass have decided to linger in the house?She had no time for hysterics.
She had bigger fish to fry. She opened the kitchen door wide, moved the chairs out of the way, and sprang into action. In her mind, she was already nuclear. June geared herself up to throw the box as far away from her home as she could. “Champ, get ready to run!”
She went to grab the box with her left hand, but just as her fingers closed around the box, all went dark. Darkness embraced June in a cold blanket of fear. She could see nothing; it was a total blackout. She felt everything and nothing. A barrage of sensations.
Am I dead? I can’t see. This stupid box is radioactive! Who would want me dead and want to kill me with radiation? What a flamboyant way to kill a person.
“Champ, boy, are you licking my hand? Stay with me, boy. This can’t be real.”
And just as suddenly, without warning, they were surrounded by light. June and her dog were in a forest, surrounded by flowing leaves and floating pollen particles so large one particle was larger than a coffee mug. Some of the leaves were big, like translucent tennis rackets, and the translucent pollen stuck like glue to Champ’s fur.
Turning around and around, June could not stop spinning and staring in awe, trying to absorb every detail. She needed to take in all the beauty, but she wasn’t fast enough. June forgot she suffered from vertigo.
“Whoa, I’m dizzy, but WOW… This… This… This is a forest! I was home, and now I am in a strange forest. I am either dead, and this is heaven, or I’m having some really groovy hallucinations. But Champ is here and licking my hands and… Those are gigantic trees. Are we on the Avenue of the Giants? Nope, wrong avenue—this ain’t it. Leaves, leaves, look at those leaves! They look transparent. Is that fluid moving through the foliage? That’s amazing! Are those flowers? I see flowers the size of chairs on those trees! Wow, those are big leaves! Champ look at those birds…. For crying out loud, I am going crazy! No, no, no, nope, this is a dream and… What the hell? Look at those frigging red birds! Talk about Big Bird, ha! We found Big Bird’s long-lost red cousin. Too big for… Is that a yellow and green peacock? It is nighttime. Where is all this light coming from? Hey, something’s glowing. It’s soft. And where is the sound coming from? I hear water. Wow, that is a big moon. Where is the water coming from? Is that really water? CHAMP, what are you doing drinking that? Water coming out of the trees! Stop—get over here, NOW!”
Nothing in the forest made sense.
“Champ come here! Bite my hand a little, just a tiny nip. I’ll wake up in my bed.”
Oh hell, I am dizzy. My ears are ringing; the world is spinning. I hate these vertigo episodes.
June ducked, head between her legs. Champ came over, jumping happily. She grabbed the dog by his collar and tried to think logically. She closed her eyes, waited a few minutes. She counted to twenty, thinking of one beautiful thing she loved as she counted. She tried to talk herself through the anxiety episode; she slowly sat down.
June thought of the many times she’d had anxiety and how she survived every time. Logically, there could not be trees with leaves that big, or flowers the size of chairs. There were no electric-blue peacocks, although, back at home on earth, turkeys did perch on trees at night. This was a forest, a beautiful forest. She had been home in California one moment, and now she was surrounded by tall, beautiful, luscious trees. In the middle of this dream, she decided to let the hallucination take her.
“I am going to enjoy this groovy high. Who knew radiation could do this? At least I am not in pain.”
June looked at her dog running around happily. Then she got the shock of her life.
Boy, those are blue! I see blue trees. Forget dead people, I see… blue trees. The bark is blue; the leaves are blue.
“Of all the crazy things I have lived through the years! A forest with blue trees!”
Her mouth and eyes were wide open; those trees made of blue bark were giving her the start of a headache. As June’s senses were overloaded, her anxiety increased. She looked at Champ and the translucent pollen covering his black coat, seeing only then her own hands were also covered with dust. Then she noticed something else.
“My mom’s ring is gone.” That ring was stuck to my finger for years. I used soap, lotion, and even grease and it never budged. How did it come off my finger?“Bloody hell, this is not a dream—this can’t be a dream. Damn! We are not in California anymore.”
June tried to do some conscious breathing even though she knew she was going to pay with farts. Nope, it did not work. She tried to yawn. That sometimes helped. Nope! She gave a big sigh. Her hands were shaking and sweat was dripping from her face and all down her back. Hyperventilation in all its glory made her dizzy. From where she sat, June turned over to her knees and crawled to sit on a tree root. The protruding root felt spongy and mossy. A root from one of the large trees served as a bean-bag chair. She placed her head between her legs and tried to relax, one body part at a time.
One moment she had been in her bed sleeping, and then she was completely awake. All the events merged, falling from one instant to another. Bed, sleep, sound, a small radioactive box, culminating with being kidnapped by a box, deposited in a forest with giant birds, enormous flowers, and blue trees. She sat on her spongy tree root on the verge of a full-blown tsunami of an anxiety attack, nursing what felt like a migraine. A monster of a pain made itself comfortable over her left eye and over her left temple. Heaven knew how far away from home and her medications the stupid luminary box had taken her.
June wondered: if she passed out, would she wake up at home?
“A Xanax, I need a Xanax. And chocolate cheesecake would be phenomenal!”
She had never expected to ever leave her small country house in California. She supported herself with the books she illustrated, her photographs, and her occasional editing gigs. June needed very little. She had no debt and her house was paid for. June, the family hermit by choice.
Nevertheless, June was in a location she could not describe, a place she could not identify. This could still end up as the opening gambit for either a children’s book or a nightmarish Halloween, class-B horror movie. Once I wake up, I’ll start writing, she told herself. This was a fancy hallucination, for sure. She hoped she could remember it all by morning. But it felt so real.
All her senses told her this was a real place: smell, sight, sound, and touch. And even though she had not tasted anything, she knew everything in this place would have a taste of its own. It had an identity of its own; it was a place far away from home. She then started to feel that familiar lung-tightening feeling—the elephant on her chest continued to press hard and make her breathing shallow and fast.
Her thoughts reverted to the moments in her life where she had not known where she was, or if she was going to come back alive from war; ugly fighting zones, sad refugee camps—all inhuman conditions. Horrors of the unknown could do that to people. June’s ears rang with a high pitch sound so familiar to her. The world turned.
A taste of bile surfaced. She knew it was only a matter of minutes before she was going to lose the battle with her gut. June fought it. She continued to try to calm down. No giving in. Through stubborn will alone, she tried to keep herself in check. She turned, on her hands and knees. “Uno, dos,tres.” Spanish didn’t work. “Ein, zwei,drei, vier.” German did not work either. She had to stop, lift her head, and swallow. Concentrate on breathing. All colors were gone. She had the energy only to breathe, could barely hold her head up. Head down, gag reflex, and she lost the fight with her stomach.
Champ, ever so faithful, panted, trying to show her his love and support. June’s head felt a bit better after she lost the battle with her stomach. She lifted her eyes and one of the blue trees softly lit up by the roots at the base. A faint bloom of pulsating light drifted up from the roots to the trunk, leaving behind a soft tinge of blue glow.
Like the box that had mesmerized June in the kitchen, the tree beckoned to June. The roots of the majestic, giant tree emerged pipe-like from the ground and entwined around the bark, luminescing and pulsating in the rhythm of a lullaby, and the forest became a living nursery rhyme. The pulse came from the ground to the tree and from the tree back to the earth.
She got up on shaking legs and sat on another spongy root, away from the carnage of the lost battle of wills with her own body. Her one hundred percent organic recliner gave comfort to an exhausted body. June closed her eyes. The root moved her slowly like a soft hammock.
Her body, so focused on calming her pain, offered no resistance to the movement. The whooshing sound of the spongy root helped to ease June’s pain. A natural painkiller without the side effects. She opened her eyes wide and found herself in front of three blue trees, the one in the middle being the most colossal tree she had ever seen. It was all sparkling light, like the phosphorescent flagellates that turn on in the wake of ships as they sail by. Except here, she had giant trees luminescing at will.
A singing, pulsating, bright and living family of three trees all in the same rhythm. The Queen Momma of the trio beckoned her to touch its bark. June could not take her eyes away from the shine. The soft sound of the wind on the leaves and the show of lights calmed her. Even Champ was transfixed; he looked at the trees as if they were giving him instructions. The light gave way to contentment. She had to touch the big Momma tree.
Standing up from her cushiony beanbag of a root, and with what little energy she had left, June took a step toward the tree, and then another. But then she said, “Wait, no, nope, Champ, I am not making the same mistake again. I am not touching that thing. Last time I touched a shiny thing, I ended up in a forest with massively beautiful, Sequoia-looking trees that have the blue cousin’s variety, with round flowers the size of chairs.” June stood still, staring in awe at her Royal Highness, the Queen Blue Tree.
That was when June’s thoughts were distracted by a flashing yellow light on the side of the tree line. The sight attracted June’s attention. She could have sworn she saw a person. She walked a few steps forward, looking carefully, trying to see what had caused the flash.
In the distance, far from where she stood, she thought she saw movement, but when she looked harder she saw nothing. June squinted. She took two steps forward and then another, moving closer to the big tree.
While she was distracted, Champ came from behind and with the force of both his weight and momentum, he pushed her toward the tree. June landed with her arms and hands wide open, giving the tree the biggest hug, anyone could give. She’d fallen hard, but then she tried to push herself off the tree. Her hair and pajama top were tangled with a sliver of bark, so she was forced to lie sideways on the tree to release herself. As June tried to free her hair and pajama top, a sweet aroma emanated from the giant blue.
The sweet perfume relaxed all her muscles. Her breathing slowed. She became very sleepy. Her legs went limp. But the spongy roots moved to hold her while a soft, flat branch came out of the side, securing her against the tree. June and the tree became one as a watery sap covered her. June slept. The trunk created a spongy, soft-looking pillow for her head, and the clear tree sap covered June from head to toe. It looked like a transparent, clear gel, as if rain was pouring over her, covering June completely and softening her appearance.
Champ dutifully sat by her feet and he too was covered by the clear, watery liquid, becoming one with a gray rock and the tree roots. The luminescent box had caught her after it baited her like a flame taunts an insect. The blue tree had trapped her after her trusty companion Champ had obeyed The Voice that had asked him to push her. June rested. Her hunger sated. Her knowledge increased. Her body was gently nestled in the womb of the Queen of Trees to start the process of a human metamorphosis. However, unlike Gregor in Kafka’s story, June’s change was one of union rather than isolation. An alteration of June’s outer shell would transform her into what she always needed to be but feared to become.
If you will like to continue reading, click on the link below and it will take you to a site where you can get the book from any major online store.
Calixta Harlow Carlyle is the name of the Character in my new book The Vanquishers of Alhambra, Calixta. I love this name so much I am considering changing my name, last name to it. I wrote the story, and by far, it is my favorite. I keep going back and re-reading it from the start and marveling at the plot and imagining of what is happening to the characters.
You might say I have an unfair advantage being that I wrote the story and I have the image in my head, but the truth to the matter is that each time I read the story I let myself reinvent the imagery in my mind and things take a different look. Even Calixta looks different every time I reread the story. Her face changes a little, her mannerisms are more refined, and she is more sophisticated each time I read her dialogue.
The other characters are so alive that I have even started a new story based on a secondary character. I must publish this story soon so I can purge Calixta out of my desk and my concentration can then go fully to my other projects. The fourth book of The Assembly of Thirteen is waiting patiently. It is 40% written. However, the outline may change a lot depending on my decision on if to finish the story in five books or six.
But for now, Calixta is the one that needs my attention. I am writing other books, although with a lot of difficulties. Even these little entries take much of my time to write, but I do what I can.
In Iraq, my best friends were both Jewish. They did not have a vehicle to go to their service, but I did. So every Friday, I gave them a ride to receive their Sabbath, and I waited until the service was over to give them a ride back to our area.
I did that every week, and I stayed for the service, so they included me in their family, and I became an adopted child. I even learned the prayers and songs and was respectful of all the traditions and was expected of me as a gentile. I loved my friends, and I was made to feel welcome.
On Hanukkah, we had boxes of things sent to the Jewish community full of things to eat and enjoy during the festivities and among them were these jars of chocolate that were to die for, and I wanted it. So we played a game for the last jar. If I remember well, it was a simple six degrees of separation with movie stars. And Lieutenant Seiden and I had a draw, and neither one wanted to part with the price.
In the end, we took a picture, opened the jar and we ate the chocolate together, between the ten of us that were still joking and laughing at the table. It was a great night, and I wish I had stayed in contact with all these excellent people, but we were all from different units, and that is the nature of war and the Army.
Till this day I don’t know what happened to handsome LT Seiden. I hope all is well with him, and he got promoted and married, and the Lord had blessed him and his family in a mighty way.
As for me, I am writing, and getting the house ready for my sisters who visit over the summer. And I still have that feeling that I will have a friend visiting this summer. I do not know who the friend is. The Lord knows who he is I just know I must have the pool ready. And like a Latino family, we are having a BBQ. Plus, the Bible does say in Hebrews 13:2 Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing, some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.
Hey, food, music, and ice tea, it’s hot in Florida.
This big boy is Dexter, my English Springer Spaniel buddy. He loves coffee, and I found out the stupid way.
Back when I was living in Maryland, I was sitting on my floor working on some charcoal sketches. The dog was sleeping near to me, and I laid my cup-o-coffee by my side when the phone rang. I left everything and went to get the phone. I was away for about five minutes, but it took precisely that for Dexter to drink my coffee.
He is an amazing dog and has outgrown his love for coffee because we do not let any cups near him. In this picture, he has a face of “I don’t care, cause I enjoyed the coffee. But please, Mom, don’t be angry at me.” Needless to say after his cup-o-coffee he was crazier than a squirrel on caffeine.
