Tomorrows Child (3 page)

“So what’s the
story of the prophecy, where did it come from?” I was still trying
to figure out if this were true or not.

“The story I
have been told is that Mary was walking in the forest and heard a
voice. I imagine she was afraid. In those days, it was believed
that women were tempted by the devil and often visited the forest
to meet him in privacy. It was nonsense, of course, but the fear
was real. They say a beautiful woman appeared, eased Mary’s fear,
and spoke the words of the prophecy. Mary memorised the words and
passed them on to her daughter. Those words are remembered here, in
this book, and their knowledge is recorded so that we know about
the gift and the promise.”

Libby smiled
then and a twinkle sparkled mischievously in her eyes. “But
remember, Psyche, myths are only stories - stories about a time
long forgotten and a place, hidden from the everyday. But myths
contain many truths. Nowadays, we resist the truth or simply choose
not to remember, but it’s all connected. Everything is part of the
energy and the story of the earth, the myths and the legends, the
hearts of men and women, the imagination of children and the
magick.”

Phoenix had
been standing at the door for a few minutes, listening and smiling.
I wondered if he believed this or if his smile was a sign of
humour. It didn’t matter I guess, I was doing this to please an old
woman who, like me, was grieving.

“Phoenix, we’ve
been waiting. You’re a little late. Come and sit and have some tea
and bread.” Libby spoke as if Phoenix had provided his schedule for
the day, but this wasn’t the case. He said nothing more than he
would split wood, but Libby always seemed to be waiting for things
to happen and answering questions that were never asked.

Phoenix sat
across from me, his cup filled with murky liquid, just like mine.
Tea with Libby meant that you drank whatever herbal brew she’d
prepared that day. I smelt my cup but couldn’t recognise the herbs.
Libby used a lot of peppermint during the day, but I think that was
mostly to mask the bitter taste of the other herbs. I dripped globs
of golden honey into my cup in an effort to make it more
palatable.

“Hey guys!”
Navarre exclaimed as he stood at the door, “Hi Psyche.” Navarre was
seventeen and Phoenix’s younger brother. The boys had two sisters.
Raven was sixteen and Jalani only four. Their parents were Ruben
and Tahinah.

“There’s a
group of us going into town tomorrow. You know it’s Sunday, and
it’s supposed to be market day. Dad thought some of the locals
might be thinkin’ the same and head into town too. Don’t expect the
markets to be runnin’, but maybe we can find out what’s going on
and well you know… see who’s still alive and stuff.” Navarre spoke
fast; his words ran together like one endless sentence.

“Also Mum
thought since Psyche was… feeling better she might like to come
over for dinner on Tuesday. There’s a full moon.” Finally, Navarre
took a breath, but he didn’t look at me when he spoke and addressed
his question solely to Libby.

“Dinner would
be wonderful, but the markets? Do you know what the plan is?”

“Dad is going
to drive in. The cruiser still runs, but fuel is a problem… You
know the rule, emergencies only, but I think this is an emergency,
sort of anyway. Lachlan is taking the Jeep so he can only fit four,
but we can take seven. Mum’s not going, she reckons it’s asking for
trouble; but said you’ll want to check in on some people on the
way.”

“She’s right of
course. But I thought the plan might be to walk. Don’t know if
these ‘young’ legs would get me to town and home again. If you’re
not walking, you can tell Ruben that Psyche and I will come.”

“What do you
think, Psyche?” Navarre finally looked at me and waited for a
reply.

“Hmm, yeah, I
guess.”

Libby, Phoenix
and Navarre chatted about the trip to town, which had created a bit
of excitement. I nodded, smiled, and pretended to take notice. My
mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about the prophecy; it didn’t
make a lot of sense. I couldn’t get the connection between it and
me. As secrets go, it seemed a bit lame. It was kinda cool having
something from my ancestors written hundreds of years ago, but the
words meant little to me. It wasn’t as if I was about to meet these
women, nor was it likely that I would be required to keep the
secret. People practiced witchcraft openly these days. With no
threat of death, there was little reason for the fuss. No wonder
Mum thought it madness.

I opened the
book and ran my fingers across the words - I could hear the women
again, whispering the secret until the words became embedded in
their hearts. The chatting in the room had turned to silence. I
looked up then. Phoenix and Libby had that same searching look they
gave me earlier. What were they looking for? Grief perhaps. In
truth, it bubbled beneath the surface, waiting to expose itself.
Maybe it would eventually, and I’d slip back in to the dark world
I’d so recently escaped.

“Phoenix has
offered to show you around, if you’re up to it. It’s important that
you find your way; it’s very easy to get lost around here.” Libby
stood and waited for us to leave. She seemed to be in a hurry to
get us out the door and I wondered what else I’d missed.

Phoenix was
pleasant enough. Although I had seen him most days, I never really
had much to do with him. As I wallowed, misery and grief became the
foundation of my life. It insulated me from everything and consumed
my every thought. Phoenix, on the other hand, was helping the
families that lived nearby to continue life with some sort of
normalcy.

I noticed him
today as if it were the first day. Standing in front of me was a
tall, dark-haired man. As the sun fell across his face, I saw he
really was good-looking. His violet eyes intrigued me and his smile
was cautious and cheeky, like someone with a secret. If life had
been different, I may have let my teenage hormones flow with images
of what could be.

We walked along
the twisted paths that meandered through the labyrinth and past the
gardens. A cornucopia of herbs, vegetables and fruit trees grew
wild and appeared, to the untrained eye, to be in disarray. Like
mine for instance. Libby assured me that the garden grew exactly as
it should. The yard sloped beyond the gardens, ran into the
rainforest and flowed towards the creek. Massive gums and pines
formed a sentry around the perimeter, like ominous guardians,
protecting the forest from trespassers and intruders.

Phoenix walked
straight into the forest, with me following. He didn’t hesitate or
seem to notice the guardians or the darkness that existed beyond
the boundary. The air became cooler as soon as we stepped under the
canopy. Leaves covered the ground thickly in some areas, all in
various stages of decay and a mouldy odour erupted under the
pressure of our feet. The earthy smell was comforting in an unusual
way. It almost smelt familiar. It was as if I should recognise the
smells and welcome the memories they brought to mind. But I had no
recollection of the forest or the musty, rotting leaves and evoking
old memories was something I wanted to avoid.

Phoenix was a
good teacher; we stopped often and he pointed out the various
trees, shrubs, vines and ferns as if he knew each one personally,
as if they were his friends. He ran his hand over the bark and
encouraged me to do the same. I smelled the leaves and tasted
fruit, and watched his eyes sparkle when he spoke. His love for the
forest was obvious. He drew me into his world, brimming with life
and love.

Instead of
seeing the forest as a dark haunted entity, I began to look at it
differently and saw each plant as an important component of the
forest. He showed me tree ferns and wait-a-while, cedars and silky
oaks, sassafras and walnut, as well as Davidson plums and lemon
aspen. We stood under Quandong trees that grew along the creek
banks, and flame trees that grew further up the slopes. Everything
had a place and a special purpose to fulfil. Birds lived in the
canopy and lizards scuttled under fallen leaves. The forest was
crawling with life.

Phoenix led me
deep into the forest where the sun was hidden behind a dense canopy
of leaves and vines. The trees here were massive, twice the size of
the monsters that guarded Libby’s garden. “This is old growth
forest,” he said, “the loggers never came here – these trees were
never touched by humans.”

“They’re
amazing.” I said breathlessly, I walked to one of the biggest trees
and threw my arms around it, barely covering more than a fraction
of its girth. “Hello, old man,” I said. I closed my eyes and took a
deep breath and thought of my mother. Bubbles of grief threatened
their way to the surface, but I swallowed hard and pushed them
away. When I finished hugging the tree and finally moved away, I
noticed that Phoenix was smiling and then frowning in
puzzlement.

“Oh, I did that
for my mother. She would have wanted me to say hello.” I shrugged
and walked away. I knew I would come and spend time with the old
men of the forest again someday.

We rested on
the trunk of a fallen tree, “Take your shoes off and wriggle your
toes into the earth,” he said. "See how it feels.” This was a
strange request, but I obliged and removed my shoes, sinking my
toes into the cold, rotting leaves. I found that beneath the
surface there was fresh, loose dirt. Disrupting the newly formed
soil forced little creatures out of their homes, and as the small
bugs scuttled away, a new, fresh, earthy smell erupted. I expected
the forest floor to be slimy and stinky, but it wasn’t. As I
wriggled my toes in the damp earth, I wondered what compelled me to
obey Phoenix in the first place.

The smell
tugged at my memory again and evoked thoughts of Libby, my mother
and magick, but the details were still out of reach. I was born
here after all, so maybe there were lost memories trapped in the
depths of my mind.

As we sat in
silence, I thought it was a good time to ask what Phoenix thought
about magic or magick as Libby pointed out in an effort to define a
difference between her magick and the magicians who used smoke and
mirrors. “It makes a difference,” she said, though I couldn’t see
it.

“So… do you
believe all this stuff about magick?” I asked.

“Sure, what’s
to believe? It’s just how it is.”

“I don’t know.
I’m not sure. It just seems a little crazy or something,” I didn’t
want to upset a devotee so I tried to frame my scepticism in a
subtle way.

“You know it’s
not all about casting spells and riding broomsticks.” Although
Phoenix meant this as a joke, I had actually considered the
broomstick thing.

“It’s more
about the earth and connecting to its energy.” Phoenix was
thoughtful and little wrinkles formed in the corner of his eyes.
“You’re a little strange, you know; you hug trees but don’t believe
in magick.”

“Mum always
says that everything is alive and that we should acknowledge the
living spirits, especially when the trees are really old.” It
wasn’t the first time I spent an afternoon hugging trees. Phoenix
just smiled.

“I can show you
something, if you like,” he said.

“Sure.” I’d
just rammed my toes amongst the dirt and bugs, why would I say no
to this?

Phoenix took my
hands and held them together as if I were about pray. “Close your
eyes, and take some deep breaths. Breathe deep, down into your
diaphragm,” he instructed me as he placed his hand lightly on my
stomach, just above my waist. He was so close that I could feel the
warmth of his breath. A tiny butterfly fluttered in my stomach and
my toes tingled.

“Yeah, that’s
right,” he said. I could feel the cool air seeping slowly into my
lungs. I took slow deep breaths for a few minutes. The vibrant
sounds of the forest faded and grew distant until I was only aware
of my breath and Phoenix’s voice.

“Find a quiet
place in your mind, where your own thoughts don’t interrupt… now,
focus on your hands… call the energy to you… you’ll feel your
fingers tingle… good, move your hands apart a little… feel them
resist… it should pull like they’re magnetic.” My fingers tingled,
everything tingled and I was amazed to feel a slight repulsion,
exactly as if my hands were polarized magnets.

Phoenix
continued to speak slow and soft. “Good, try a little more - cup
your hands like your holding a ball. Yes. Can you feel that?
Slowly… just move a little bit at a time… play with the energy for
a minute… hold it… allow it to grow… feel it between your hands…
don’t rush, take it slow… now… open your eyes… cool! Hey, don’t
move too fast. Just hold it and look down at your hands. Can you
see the colours? The swirling?” He was excited and didn’t wait for
my answer, “That energy comes from the earth, from the trees and
the flowers and from you; it’s all around us everywhere. Psyche,
that’s magick. It’s a tangible essence, not make-believe. It’s just
like the spirits in the tree.”

I was smiling
now; I bit my lip and wrinkled my nose, embarrassed, “That’s really
cool.”

Phoenix was
delighted and his crooked smile tugged at my heart. It was as if we
had achieved something special, like we shared a secret, and I
guess we had.

Phoenix reached
out and touched my hands, causing a small, visible spark of
electricity to zap. I pulled away in shock. Phoenix frowned and
looked at me again with that same intense gaze, the look that
pulled at my soul and searched for answers. I was still suspicious,
I guess, but maybe that was just his way.

The ground
trembled beneath our feet. Another aftershock maybe, or a tiny
earthquake; it’s hard to tell. We were getting used to them now,
more or less.

“We should be
getting back; Libby will think I kidnapped you.” We stood up,
turned around, took no more than fifty steps and were back in the
garden, but now we stood at the top of the garden, directly
opposite the place we had entered the forest a few hours
earlier.