Children of the Unndis Sedna

By Lynelle Souleiel

Finally at the beach on summer holiday, Odenpri and Sigali celebrating the realization of a childhood dream come true, scarred by Sigali’s fight to survive, are serenaded at the bonfire out of ”Necessity!” by the Newcomers, Al and Truculent. The teenage girls unknowingly molded to fulfill their destiny, are enveloped in the search of an elusive treasure. Odenpri tormented by her own failings, challenged by teenage angst, is repeatedly put to the test as she must choose to either weakly satisfy her fear or fight for what an ancient text foresees.

This diverse and sexy quartet on a quirky quest in Sigali’s hot pink convertible, fight evil foes not only of self doubt, disease, and death, but the Mata Kovi as well.

In life we all face challenges, what does it take to put our personal choices and fears aside to accept what truly is the right thing to do relying only on faith and hope? Despite our self doubt can we live up to our destiny? From a child’s room in Las Vegas, to a woman’s victory on the shores of history...join our heroes on their journey as they explore the Earth’s mystery, the voices of the ancients, and the prophecy of life, love, and friendship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: May 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480807495

Lynelle Souleiel

Lynelle Souleiel grew up in La Crescenta, CA. She attended California State University Northridge majoring in theatre with a minor in humanities. Prior to her current career as a police dispatcher in Las Vegas, NV she traveled working as an actor, magic assistant, dancer, and in television and film production as well. Lynelle still acts in a Las Vegas hit show.

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Copyright © 2014 Lynelle Souleiel.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-0643-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-0750-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-0749-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014940191

Archway Publishing rev. date: 5/19/14

Contents

1.   Destiny

2.   Totem

3.   On Holiday

4.   The Sighting

5.   Anticipation

6.   First Encounter

7.   Emma

8.   The Newcomers

9.   Acceptance

10.   The Journey Begins

11.   Shasta

12.   Natural Talent

13.   Did you know…?

14.   Cottage Grove

15.   Lead me

16.   Revelation

17.   Loo Wit’s Tears

18.   The Poetic Edda

19.   Otter Rock

20.   Sweet Loo Wit

21.   The Basket

22.   The Hlio

23.   Pandora

24.   Meta

25.   The Adalsteinn

26.   The Giving

Thank you…

Jordan

Amanda

Janice

Beverly

James

Eric

Travis

Britney

…for all you do

Believe in yourself

and

I love you

YOUR STRENGTH INSPIRES OTHERS

1

Destiny

Destiny

I never felt my life was anything special and spent most of it convincing myself of the same. Idonea tells me, Our destinies are not necessarily what we desire them to be, but more so the tests of the masses that bring us to our own. I don’t like that word, TEST.

The bus exhaust blurred the neon green laces of my Converse tennis shoes at the bottom of my legs that were dragging me towards my stepmom’s car.

Idonea gave the requisite, How was your day at school?

I did my best to not look her in the eye. Okay

It was report card day right?

Yep The rest of the ride was silent.

The wind cutting through the open window forced my straight-ironed black hair to whip my espresso eyes. It stung. I deserved the punishment! I knew I screwed up. I couldn’t help but think of my cousin Sigali; she is seventeen, a year older than I. When times are hard, I always long to be near her. Sigali gives me strength, she’s been my best friend my entire life.

Sigali has cancer.

They diagnosed her illness when she was eight years old. It’s an extremely rare cancer with a really long name that I don’t remember and I don’t know how to spell. Only one thousand people in recorded history had ever had this unique type of cancer and she was exalted as the only child to ever been diagnosed with it.

My cousin Sigali became quite a celebrity in the medical world. Doctors from all over the planet came to examine her body. She was like a fish in a tank with everybody staring at her, poking and prodding and studying her abnormality. Sigali is beautiful. She has blond hair and clear blue eyes like the ocean in the warmest of seas. She has a laugh that sounds like music lapping over the wave tops. Charming, she makes everyone feel at home in her presence, and took on the challenge of being diagnosed with an amazingly rare cancer as if she were the prettiest girl at the prom and everybody wanted to be her date. Sigali shines with grace in the face of adversity. I, on the other hand, have a negative attitude of: if I can’t change the rules so I win, then I don’t want to play at all.

As we aged our challenges grew increasingly more difficult. Mine were keeping up with my studies. I’d found difficulty in finding a reason to do schoolwork. Sigali found it difficult warding off all the boys at school. Both challenges pertained to education in some manner, hers of a more sexual nature and mine still of the strictly academic. She found herself beating boys off with a stick and I found myself beating my own head against the desk. For some unknown reason I still had the fear of a challenge. When a test would be put in front of me I would: A) Stuff it in my backpack, B) Answer only half of the questions on the test even though I knew all the answers, C) Answer all the questions on the test and not turn it in or, D) All of the above.

After a semester of pulling this prank fooling myself, the report card graciously reflected my anxieties in a bright red letter. Not letters, mind you, just letter. It was the single letter F. This character in the alphabet brought on a new character of Idonea I had never experienced. Something I truly hope to never experience again. My insane reluctance to accept life as it is; was going to bite me in the ass. It was no one’s fault but my own. It’s not like Idonea didn’t try.

When I first met Idonea I was two months shy of being five. My parents were divorced and she was my father’s new friend.

She came in the door, knelt down, took both my hands in hers and said, My name is Idonea Talise. It is a pleasure to finally meet you Panda.

I was defensive and corrected her, My name is Odenpri.

Idonea smiled… I know.

That first day she sat in the walk-in closet in our bedroom with Kempe and me and played with our toys. We played games of all sorts. My little brother was only a year and half old, still in a diaper. I kept trying to change the rules of the games to my advantage. Playing by the rules that were set forth in the instructions seemed way too difficult.

I remember Idonea saying to me, You can’t change all the rules or it turns into a different game.

Thinking to myself, What’s wrong with that if I still win?

She noticed my growing frustration since I had a habit of quitting anything that presented a challenge.

Idonea explained, Where is the fun in it, if it is easy? The fun is found in the challenge and the difficulty of the task.

I pouted and tossed my cards to the carpet in front of me.

Idonea taught me how to peel potatoes. She taught me how to strip the thyme leaves off of the branches of the herbs that grew in the kitchen window. Idonea would crinkle the leaves in her hands and smell them and say, Ah, the scent reminds me of the hillsides of the Isle of Kea where you were born. Greece had never seen a more beautiful Leonidas’ Day. Idonea liked to dance when she cooked. She’d pick up Kempe and dance around the house. She’d try to dance with me. She would spin me around while I dragged my feet. Idonea lifted me to dance and I was languid and heavy in her arms and not even try. She’d say to me, Did you know that Spartan warriors danced, and the Spartan women trained for war? She made it look easy but it seemed difficult. Dance like a Spartan warrior, Kempe. She’d sing, lifting his arms into the air. Kempe danced and danced. Panda, would you rather train for war? she coaxed as I sat in a heap on the floor.

My hair whipping my eyes brought me back to the moment. The car ride home, less than a mile, seemed to take ages. Idonea had the courtesy to wait until we got home to unleash a fury that I needed to snap me out of my sullen poor, poor pitiful me routine. I immediately went for the remote control and the couch, and she, with a smooth sweep, retrieved my backpack and the remote out of both my hands. I found myself at the kitchen table, stunned and surprised, sitting up straight no less.

Idonea pulled open the zipper on the backpack and the sound of it felt as if my own skin was being torn wide open. After all, it was. I had used that backpack to hide every single piece of paper that had come across my school desk that year. Right on top, newly crumpled into a ball, was the report card. As desperately as I had smashed it into a ball the blazing red felt-tip pen ink had soaked through the paper and the letter F glared up at Idonea. Below the rolling ball of failure was a stack of paper that I had done my best to conceal every day for the past nine months that just incessantly grew. Idonea reached into the bag and pulled out handful after handful of reminders of my failure and tossed them onto the table in front of me. Her eyes filled with a rage and hurt that stabbed me in the heart. She silently spread the papers out on the table, carefully looking at each one of them. Piles were created with work I had never attempted, pages I had half-assed, papers I had completed and never even turned in. She stopped, gripping a torn and wrinkled homework page, her hand inadvertently shaking.

In her fury she finally spoke, I am stunned. We sat together and did the homework, you toiled, and when we finally finished it you exuded a little bit of pride for your accomplishment. You said to me ‘another A she paused. How dare you lie to me?

"How dare you lie to me!? Those words are scorched in my brain. I was four when I first remember my parents fighting. How dare you lie to me!" are the words I remember my mother screaming at my father. I thought it was my entire fault my parents divorced. I was wrong. I was only four. I didn’t know better. Not until I was thirteen did I ever have the heart to admit to anyone that I thought it was my fault. It was a horrible burden to bear.

When Idonea came into my life I asked her one day, Are you going to be my stepmother?

She was sewing personalized Holiday stockings and looked surprised. Maybe, is that alright with you?

It doesn’t make sense.

Why?

…Because you’re nice.

Idonea looked confused. Do you mean like in storybooks? Like Cinderella’s evil stepmother?

Yes.

Not all stepmothers are evil. That’s just in stories to make it sound more exciting. Some of us are nice. Is that okay with you?

I thought about it. Yes, it’s okay with me.

Idonea winked. Would you like to help me sew?

The cushioned chair felt hard beneath me as I sat, trying to block out my punishment. Idonea was so close to me in her rage that I could smell her. She always smelled of sweet rain.

She smelled like rain on roses. How dare you lie to me? How dare you lie to yourself! I am dumbfounded at the audacity you have shown in blatantly lying to all of us. You have lied to your grandmothers who have sat at this table and studied with you. You have lied to your parents celebrating that you have good grades when in actuality you shamefully have stuffed everything into this pitiful bag. Since you were five years old you have done all you can to run and hide from the challenges …

My thoughts trailed in an attempt to escape. Idonea is a Magician’s Assistant. That’s her career. She actually made a living climbing in and out of boxes with lions and tigers and bears and snakes. She traveled quite a bit and always had stories to share of her travels: bright lights and pretty costumes on big stages floating into the air, appearing and disappearing. All I wanted to do right now was disappear.

It reminded me of the day Idonea disappeared from my life and the events leading up to it. Late in the hours before dawn when I was little, I would wake and wander into the study and there Idonea would be sketching and drawing. Hours upon hours were spent creating blue prints for the mastery that was to come to life evolved from the fanciful dreams in her head. She’d lift me up to her lap and tell me stories of times she floated into the sky and disappeared. I’d lean over her shoulder twirling her auburn hair with my fingers, watching her draw while she explained to me how each angle and detail must be examined to achieve the perfection she wanted to obtain. Fanciful stories of rolling with lions and being hugged by tigers ignited wishes inside my unknowing belly. The rumbles from my tummy were satisfied by cookies we baked together as she told tales of holding hands with bears and cradling snakes two times in length as tall as she. Protecting them from their fears, how she quietly would console and sing to the beasts harmonious in song and being. Idonea had skills that betrayed the eye. Animals quieted in her presence, or would wake and sing longingly at the zoo when they knew she was near.

Her diligent attention to detail aggravated me since it had to be done her way and not mine. To just do it my way was never enough. Grueling years were spent her challenging her patience to pull the unwilling talents she somehow knew were inside of me. I always found the games and projects fun until it took a little bit of effort and then I still had the tendency to give in. Just give up. Fear maybe. Why did I always just give up? Idonea would never give up. She worked incessantly until she could achieve whatever goal she had set in front of her. I’d watch, and usually walk away when she’d say, "Just try. It is not that difficult. It is only as difficult as you think it is. Try, just try. If you believe…, we will make magic together! Panda, do you believe?"

Idonea had gotten involved in teaching a Children’s Theater workshop. Up until this point, goodness knows how long it really was which seemed like forever to me, my mom and Idonea had yet to meet each other face to face. This wore on me heavily. You might be thinking to yourself, what kid cares about who meets who? Well I cared, and I cared a lot. In my heart there was a hole that needed to be filled up. That hole was the absence of feeling complete. I had gone through a divorce already and now had the makings of a couple new pseudo families that I wanted to be real families.

Often adults hang on to their own issues and forget that we little folks have issues too. Just because we are shorter and younger and smaller in size doesn’t mean that our hearts feel any less than any other regular human heart. We may not have the vocabulary to express what we feel or the life experience to make older folks understand what goes on inside of our heads, but we have emotion. God-given emotion, no matter how tall or short or old or young we all have feelings and sometimes you just need to look down or maybe get down on your knees and take the time to look into a little person’s eyes and ask. This is exactly what Idonea did.

She recognized my anticipation about going to the drama workshop, but then she looked beyond that and paused. She just stared at me, trying to look into my eyes. My eyes were looking down trying to focus on the ants on sidewalk.

Almost in a whisper she asked, What’s wrong?

Here is where the lump in my throat began to harden.

I can see the worry in your eyes. she consoled.

Now I really stared at the ants.

Ok, I will wait …I know you have something you want to say, so I will wait."

Darn it, I thought to myself, she is really going to make me tell her isn’t she? Why can’t she just know already what is stuck in my throat? She waited. I stalled. The ants didn’t wait they kept on moving in quite a confused hurry, ignorant to the fact we were towering above them looking down, watching and waiting. I shuffled my feet. The ants panicked.

Ready? she coaxed.

Ok, I’m ready.

She waited…I shuffled…the ants panicked.

I want you to meet my mom.

The lump in my throat defused into baby tears suspended in my eyes blurring my vision. I so badly wanted to fill that void. My heart ached with the hole of not being whole. I wanted my families to be together. My mom and my dad couldn’t be married anymore I could deal with that, but to have an invisible barrier keeping everybody apart just was too much to manage. I raised my head with confidence, I want you to meet my mom.

Oh my goodness… Idonea expressed.

An hour later she walked me to the door of my grandma’s house. Idonea brought a small flower pot overflowing with herbs from the window sill as a gift. I rang the door bell. The door opened and there was my mom and Idonea smiling and chatting and shaking hands above me.

My mother smiled at me after breathing in the aroma of the gift, I love the scent of blooming thyme, it reminds me of Greece where you were born.

During this same time, my dad had been training for a new job. He didn’t hang out with my brother and me anymore. He got very serious. Tensions between dad and Idonea would ebb and flow but she remained cheerful and playful with my brother and me. One day we went into the bedroom to get our overnight bag and the doorbell rang. The door swung open with mom in the foyer. Idonea stood stoic and frozen. I looked up at her reaching my arms above my head to give her a hug. She crumbled to her knees, her eyes suddenly gushing tears. She squeezed both Kempe and I in a hug so tight we were squished. The three of us held our breath as long as we could until she eased her grip and leaned back on her heels. I looked into her eyes which made my eyes instantly pour. I have to leave. she breathed, I am going away. I’m sorry, I am so sorry she sobbed, I love you. I can’t stay. I love you. I am so, so sorry. She got up and walked away into the bedroom, her head in her hands, her tears falling to the floor.

I was mad at her for a very long time. I told my little brother to not ever call Idonea ‘Mom’ again because she didn’t deserve it after abandoning us that way. I was hurt. In a world of adult issues sometimes they think they are hidden from the kids and sometimes they aren’t. This time they were. My anger had been sorely misplaced. Come to find out, my dad had an affair. He had an affair with the other drama teacher at the workshop. He had left Idonea for another woman and we never knew it. Idonea never let us know. She bravely asked him to come back home so he could focus on his career and the future of the kids, because that is what was important. Months had transpired with an inconceivable agony, she putting on a brave face until the day after my father received his diploma at the graduation ceremony. That was the day she dropped to her knees, and sobbed and said goodbye.

The smell of sweet wet roses brought my focus back to my punishment:

…to run and hide from the challenges that are set before you and now you have come to an all-time low. Idonea continued to rail at me. You have lied to yourself above all! You will never achieve the greatness that this life has designed for you if you continue to behave in this disgraceful fashion!

Idonea stopped. She turned away from me obviously choked up with frustration. I could see her reflect on her duty as she paced the kitchen. The thoughts in her head were so loud I could almost hear them…

Your journey will be a long and arduous one, but if you embed yourself as the histories prove is a better path, it will result the same positives for you.

But she is as hard and stubborn as ever! The world according to Odenpri her watery gaze fell to the floor.

Those are exactly the skills she needs to portray. She lives up to her name.

Father, I just wish she would let down her guard more easily sometimes. She flusters quickly and is so difficult to get close to. I feel like I have ruined it forever by coming back home.

My child, you needed direction. That is all. The parameters changed and your heart was put to a test. A human test, you mustn’t fault yourself for feeling human when that is exactly what your calling has charged you to do.

Please forgive me.

There is nothing to forgive you for. You graciously took on the painful charges of metamorphosing into a clumsy earth bound creature, more easily due to your magical capacities than any others of us here in the deep. Be proud of yourself and go now with a swift beat of your tail. Crest the waves atop with joy and purpose.

With an Adieu as directed, the auburn haired one turned as fluidly as a dolphin and with the force equaled to ones such flukes, she was gone.

Idonea took long slow breaths as if reliving a memory. I adjusted in my seat nervously. She curled her auburn hair on top of her head and leaned into me.

Her intensity was icy but her guarded emotion was molten, I didn’t come back to watch you fail. Don’t you understand? Failure is forbidden! Although you refuse to see your importance in life, you are an integral part of the world around you and your failures cause an avalanche of unforeseen outcomes. It is absolutely forbidden to not be reverent to your abilities.

Reverent? What is that? I spitefully interrupted.

Go look it up! she blasted at me.

Idonea smoothed the paper out onto the table as if she was smoothing out pastry dough.

She breathed in slowly although I could hear her breath quiver, I am not allowed to give up on you. I have accepted my responsibility, but my God, I pray that you drop that weak falsified attitude and learn to be the person you are supposed to be! This weak shadow of you that you put forth is the only lie that is the truth unfortunately. You are better than this! She paused to take another breath. Stop lying to yourself and don’t you ever lie to me again!

A tear in Idonea’s eye quivered, With each lie you convince yourself of… a little bit of the world dies away.

I thought of Sigali. Sigali reveled in the attention of her illness. The family naturally and rightfully so gave their attentions to the child that had been stricken by the devastating news she had cancer and heralded her every move as if it was going to be the last. All the while Sigali in her glowing fashion pioneered through the evils and fears of every hospital riding high on her gurney with a parade of healers and nurses and family members in tow. Cheerfully facing each challenge Sigali rarely faltered. She reaped the rewards of her ailment and focused on an uncertain future with a determined gaze. Whether it was a test, or an operation, or an exam, at her young age she was strong and unnerved.

I on the other hand got nervous when I had to go see her in the hospital. Just a visit and I felt my knees shake each time I entered the stale, cold, sterile, atmosphere where all control was given up. When you are a patient in a hospital, your trust in others has to be allowed. Heck it has to be right there at the top along with getting well, of course. It takes a special resolve to say, "Okay, go ahead,