Bardo

By Chris Mckenna

Nikki finds herself in a world between realms, the Bardo, and time is running out. Soon her essence will be scattered forever. Can she pull herself together? Bardo , based loosely on the Tibetan Book of the Dead, follows Nikki, a young schoolgirl who has an.... unfortunate accident and finds herself trapped in the Bardo. It won’t be long before she'll be scattered across the realms. With only a dog to guide her, can she re-unite herself in time to escape? Fun, fast and humorous, Bardo asks questions about some deep issues, including who we really are, the nature of life and death and why schools insist on students wearing school uniforms when there are much more fashionable options available.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris McKenna
• Release date: Feb 18, 2013

Book preview

BARDO

Bardo

By Chris McKenna

Published by Chris McKenna at Smashwords

Copyright © Chris McKenna 2012

Cover Design Yana (Яна Шишкина )

Cover Editing and placement Frank Gaddis

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from the publisher

All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher and/or author.

ISBN-13: 978-1479159567

ISBN-10: 1479159565

Dedication

To my Gran, Teresa Howie, for helping me keep myself together in the hard times.

Chapter 1

I was born, I did stuff and now I'm running. Running is a massive part of my life. It's something which I seem to end up doing a lot. I'm not talking about athletics here - I'm not some kind of freakishly long-legged running girl or anything like that. I just mean running to get from one place to another in as fast a time as possible. To be fair, that's usually because I am late.

The world looks down on late people - school especially looks down on late people. Nobody gets that it's just something about yourself that's impossible to change. You wouldn't snub someone or punish them just because they had blonde hair, would you? - By the way I'm not blonde. You wouldn't judge them for being tall, would you? - I'm not that tall either.

I can't believe I'm going to be late for my maths exam! My mother’s going to kill me.

Today it wasn't even my fault. I have to admit there have been a few days now and then where I've...well... 'rolled over.' But it wasn't like that today. Today it was the school’s fault. I mean why do they have to insist on perfect pristine uniforms? Is it going to make a bit of difference to my 'learning ability' if I wear a skirt or not? I don't think so. And why do the shoes have to be so uncomfortable? We're sixteen years old; we deserve a comfortable, maybe even fashionable pair of shoes! Worst of all, why did my mother carelessly sit the hoover on top of one of my shoes – the left one - so that I had to spend half an hour searching for it?

Well anyway, hi! I'm Nikki and you've joined me on what is turning out to be the worst day of my life. So far I've made it about three-quarters of the way to school. I'm thinking that if I cut through the park and keep up the pace I might just be able to make it for the start of the exam. I'll miss registration class, there is no doubt in that, but it's the exam that's the important thing. Furious teachers I can deal with later.

Normally I avoid the park. It's not dangerous or anything like that, well, not in a scary kind of way. But on a nice sunny day like today it's tempting just to sit down and have a little seat in the morning sun. I've missed more than a few classes to a sunny morning in the park. After school, the place gets filled with bull headed footballers – not my type – and Barbie doll girls – not my friends. But at the moment it's quiet, still, comfortable. Don't stop! I have to keep running!

It's as I make my way along the rows of conifers that line the path on the far side of the park that I hear a bark. Well, more of a yelp than a bark. Now I know what you’re thinking: a dog barking in a park, so what? Stop getting distracted and get to school! But the odd thing was that it sounded like it was coming from the top of one of the trees. There it is again. I'm sure I heard it!

I jog back to the tree. It's one of the really tall conifers that line path and where is one of the places that the bulls and Barbies go to make out behind. At first I don’t see anything and I'm starting to think that all the stress is getting to me or something equally Oprah. Then I see the paw, a little white cloud prodding out at the top of the tree. It's not a big dog, but it's a dog for sure. Moving back I can see it clearly, all black but for the single white paw. Probably some kind of mongrel by the looks of things.

I know you can't answer me! I shout, but how in the hell did you get up there?

No response. For some reason I'm surprised. In the distance the school bell rings. I could make it if I run. I'm sure of it.

Sorry pup, I shout up the tree, I've got to go, I'll be in big trouble if I don't.

The dog gives a yelp in reply and paws around a little, almost as if it's about to make the suicidal jump. Just my luck. I look around hoping to find someone to tell. Someone with more time than me, but the path is deserted.

"I'm sorry,' I shout again.

I look towards the school. Look back to the tree. Then start climbing.

There are certain types of tree that are just meant to be climbed. Conifers are not one of them. First of all I have to get down on my hands and knees just to get under its skirt – I'll be late now for sure, but at least no one is going to be more angry because I'm late and dirty.

I fight my way up through the tight branches. Pushing them aside is an effort and more often than not they whip back slashing me across the face. I'm starting to think this might not have been the best of ideas. It's harder than I thought to make progress and my arms and legs are getting tired. Now, not only will I have missed my exam, but I'll also have failed to save a dog in the process. Life is not looking good right now.

A clump of branches tears off from the tree and start to fall back, but I'm able to snatch a second, firmer clump just in time. It's getting high and dying is beginning to look like an option. Better that than having to go tell my mother I missed my maths final to go tree climbing. Both scenarios would have the same end result: me dying. But the second one involves a lot more shouting beforehand.

Just as I'm sure my hands can't take any more little cuts and that my body is too heavy to climb any higher on the branches that are becoming very very fine, I see the dog. He's watching me with a sort of calm curiosity. His body nested in a little cluster of fine branches, the single white paw held high and forward as if there might be something wrong with it.

I'm not going to hurt you, I say, trying to keep my voice in a tone that I hope will make it clear what I mean. "Now I'm just going to reach over and pick you up, okay? Whatever you do, don't bite me, it's a long fall and I will drop you and we will die. Do you understand?"

The little dog cocks his head to one side.

I'll take that as yes then.

I bring my hand slowly towards the dog and he sniffs it for a moment.

Don't even think about it! I warn him.

He licks my hand lightly in response.

I should think so too.

Grabbing as tight as can with my other hand, I'm able to get my arm over his little body and pull him round so that he's hanging by my waist. I take a deep breath. Time to try and get back down.

Even with one hand, it's easier than I thought it would be to get to the ground. The branches that had got in my way on the way up, move aside easily with the weight of my feet while providing me with more support than before, even then there are still a few close calls. Still I'm still relieved when my feet touch the solid ground.

Getting out from under the tree I place the dog in front of me and stare up at where we've just come from. I am so lucky that I didn't die. What was I thinking? I look across to where the school is. No, really, what was I thinking? I am so dead.

A little yelp draws my attention back to the dog. He's sitting there with his tail wagging and his little paw held out in front of him.

Okay, off you go, I say, go and find your master, or whatever.

The dog sits watching me.

So what? I've to take you home now as well? Don't you think you've caused me enough trouble for one day? I spot the green and brown streaks all over my formerly pristine white shirt. Come on, look at me, I plead.

He still just sits there.

Oh, all right then, I say spotting a little gold tag on a nice blue collar. Let's see where you stay then.

The tag is blank- why am I not surprised? I shake my head and sit on the ground. My skirt’s already filthy anyway, a bit more dirt and dust is not going to make much of difference. The dog hobbles over and gives a me a gentle lick on the hand.

I know it's not your fault, I say. Well, except the part where you go climbing trees and get stuck. How did you get up there? At least can try and find a vet and see if he can do something for your paw okay, boy? I suddenly have a moment of doubt and pick up the dog, checking under its belly. Yes, boy. I'm glad we've got that sorted. Now what should we call you?

Chapter 2

Vets, like doctors and dentists, are not supposed to be good looking. They're supposed to be old men with wisps of grey in their hair. They are most definitely not supposed to look windswept and dashing and as if they have just returned from a day of surfing. I'm very aware of this now as the blonde-haired, surfer vet, examines the dog's little white paw and I'm even more aware of the dirty brown and green streaks that run up my blouse. I feel I should explain myself to him, but then I've already done that – twice.

You said you found him up a tree? he asks while rubbing the dog's paw.

Yeah, in the park.

He looks at me doubtfully while pretending to smile. Why did he have to be handsome? It would be so much easier not to care what he thought if he wasn't. Something animal in me just wants to run away from the embarrassment. Something else wants me to defend myself. I keep silent.

Well he's a lucky boy then, seems to be just a sprain, no real damage. He walks to a cupboard and takes out something that looks like one of those hand scanners they have at the airport. He spots my curiosity. He might have an electronic tag under his skin, he explains.

What like a chip?

He nods, clearly having no luck in finding anything.

That's horrible, why would anyone do that to a dog?

It's to keep them safe, he replies. Clearly I'm getting on his nerves.

Well, would you do it to your children? I ask.

He gives a hint of a laugh that suggests I'm too stupid to really understand and maybe I am. I just never got the thing with animals where it's okay to do it to them, but not okay to do it to people. Your dog is sick? In a bit of pain? No problem, just pop in the needle of death and buy a new one. But grandma is sick and in immense pain, we have to spend the next ten years drawing out her life with all the medication we can. Neutering as well, that's even worse! Cutting out some poor animals reproductive organs cause you don't want the hassle of dealing with the puppies? You won’t see many parents suggesting that for their daughters. It's so hypocritical. It's not that I feel that strongly one way or the other. Just have some standards and stick to them. That's all I'm saying.

Maybe I should become a vegetarian?

Both the vet and the dog are looking at me. I've been lost in my thoughts too long. There's something just a little too clever about the dog and the way he acts. Maybe he's got some sheepdog in him or something; I hear they're pretty smart and it would explain the colours.

So it's up to you. You can take him home with you and I'll give you a call if anyone comes looking for him, the vet says, or we could have the pound come and pick him up for now.

My mother is not going to want a pet in house. I've never even tried to ask for anything bigger than a hamster. Both she and I know that after a few months she'd be the one doing all the cleaning and feeding. That's what happened to Fish and Shif, my seemingly symmetrical goldfish. But the dog is looking at me. Not just looking - staring. As if he knows the decision being played out in my head. How could I leave him to the pound? It's more or less a death row for dogs – you don't see us doing that to the homeless either. Mind you he's cute enough, he'd probably get picked up soon enough, but am I willing to take the chance? These animal people all just seem a bit too happy with their needles.

I'll take him for now, I say looking at the vet - I've gone off him already, he's too full of himself.

Remember to leave your number at the front desk, he tells me as I pick up