The Orchid

By Sahar Ayachi

You will bring light to my darkness, you will bring hope to my despair. You will be my knight though you will first be a slave, but I know which spots to hit to make you brave.
Dreamy, impulsive, but mostly confusedthis is Lola.
On a journey where she just tries to live, love, and be loved, Lola is being followed by the one thing she thought she escaped froma presence that will find her wherever she goes . . . a presence that isnt happy with her decisionsnot happy at all.
Follow Lola through a story where the lines between dreams and reality are blurred, where she will be faced with struggleemotionally and physicallyand where she is trying her best to make sense of the confusing situation she got herself into.
What is this scary unknown that Lola is running away from, and will she eventually be able to face it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Mar 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781482899870

Sahar Ayachi

Sahar was born in 1989, in Tunisia. Her international experience and her polyglot skills give her writing style a uniqueness that crosses borders. With a solid exterior, tasteful to the adventurous, and a sweet interior loved by everyone, Sahar is worth the discovery, and so are her stories.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Sahar Ayachi.

ISBN:      Softcover         978-1-4828-9988-7

                eBook             978-1-4828-9987-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

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Orchid’s First Message

Orchid’s Second Message

The Little Bird and The FlowerLola’s songBy: Sabrina T. Rudolph

To Skander and Rayan,

To Aimee, Sabrina and Souraya…

Thank you for being with me all along this journey, designing, editing and/or advising.

This book wouldn’t have made it this far without all of you!

To those who inspired me to write this book…

Thank you… And congratulations! You now officially rose to the level of muses.

1

"Hi! My name is Lola and I come from a land that stretches to no end. Well, that is the impression you get when you are there. No need to bother your brain trying to imagine a land with no limits because it has limits. At least geographically. But in my heart and mind, its beauty ran until the horizon and beyond. And I loved it.

I loved its clear skies, its endless crystal blue waters, its warm breeze and even its suffocating hot days. The junction of its golds and blues gave it a certain magic that could feed your soul with comfort for days. No, it wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was full of defects, lacked certain things and overflowed with others. Maybe its people weren’t the happiest ever, but they knew that whatever happened, they could count on the beauty of their land to wash the sorrow away."

* * * *

She was one of them. Life was easy going. An ordinary routine of a child full of energy and passion, with an imagination and dreams running wild, restlessly racing and chasing each other beyond the humanly drawn limits of physical movement.

She loved her land. She loved its summers and winters. She loved the life it allowed her and the way it shaped her.

She had it all, people would say.

Family, friends, health… what else could a child ask for?

But Lola had a little secret, something that she kept hidden from everyone around her, including the closest ones… something inside her. Unexplained as where it came from or why she had it, Lola carried it within for as long as she could remember. It has always lived in her, but only revealed itself when Lola was alone.

She has never seen it; she has never touched it. But she has sensed it, and has talked to it. It felt tinted, of a glowing strong midnight blue that, when dimmed, revealed softer shades of purple. It reminded her of flowers: lilacs, irises or orchids. At times when she closed her eyes and listened to it talk to her, Lola would imagine a beautiful collection of those flowers, speaking to her as the wind caressed their petals and transported their message towards her.

The beauty in the picture however didn’t match the stains it left on Lola’s heart and mind once the shared moment was over. It flooded her with unexplained feelings; sad at times, angry at others. It made her taste heather purple loneliness, fed her drops of electric blue anxiety and kept her in complete dark fear… fierce turmoil… even in the brightest places… even in the safest places.

As Lola would try to talk back to it, she would ask it questions of how and why. She would fruitlessly try to understand the sudden gloom that, within a second, erased every memory of a better feeling. She would try to follow the chain of thoughts that brought her where she was. She would try to find a logical explanation… in vain. She would only add more questions to an already crowded list. And she would read it over and over again, until her spaced out brain burns into flames, and her closed eyes burst into waterfalls. Sometime later, veils of blue and purple mysteriously lifted, Lola would return to being her normal self; exhausted from her short-lived moment of disturbance, but glad that whatever happened was finally over.

She was never able to talk about her secret with anyone around her. She has never found the proper words to describe it to others… and even when she thought she did, the ones she used were never understood. But how could she blame anyone around her for not understanding something that confused her and kept her perplexed even though she lived it?

So, she lived with it in silence. Despite the fact that she never really understood why, Lola managed to get, along the years, not a complete, but a little better control over the blue and purple curtains that randomly opened and closed in front of her, revealing almost always the same freak show behind.

The restlessness and the exhaustion they brought, on the other hand, only worsened. They marked her stronger each time; they coloured her a shade sadder with each new kick in the stomach and each shock to the brain. They isolated her and turned her colder, feeding more and more on the warmth of every heartfelt feeling she would experience.

Lola was growing number. She was craving what she knew her life was missing. Her land might have been more than enough for thousands of her, it wasn’t enough for her restless spirit. She needed change.

She was longing for that complete stop and a fresh start somewhere far and unknown. She wanted to open her eyes to different colours, taste strange flavours, breathe in new fumes and dance to different melodies. She wanted to walk for days, get lost in the unknown then magically find her way again.

Every day she would hop on her mind-made little boat and let herself be guided by whatever mystic powers ruled the universe. In her mind-made little story, a new chapter would write itself along the lines of her day-dreaming, only to be replayed in better colours when the moon and the stars took over the watch.

And for a moment, she would feel free… free from a secret’s weight that would randomly drop, uninvited, and momentarily cripple her.

* * * *

Against the growing apathy, one trait of Lola survived: her impatience. She didn’t want the secret anymore. She was tired of carrying it within herself, and has lost all hope in anyone around her to comprehend the clearest lines of her story. She didn’t want to hopelessly wait around. So, she brought back poise, vigour and boldness. Then, coating the lot with a layer of wit, Lola managed to sprawl a perfectly smooth red carpet right in front of her.

Destroying walls and breaking doors, single-handedly building her one-man ship, Lola slowly drew an escape route towards where the sand and the sea met.

And she left, looking for that new unknown.

She travelled. Days of traveling, all by herself. Days before she reached the new waters, bigger and more imperious that the ones she grew up watching.

She has long heard stories about these fascinating swaying carpets of all shades and sizes, of all tempers and moods… soft and caring yet unexpected and fearful. The excitement for this new adventure filled her head and she was ready, more than ever.

They say the discovery of the unknown allows you to discover yourself along the way…

Lola was eager to, not only leave her blue and purple secret behind, but also to find that foreign "me" lurking in the depth of her soul… waiting to be met.

So, she sailed.

2

The first time she saw the new reflection of herself was the first time she looked into its beautiful blue eyes. A totally foreign ocean it was! Exotic, prettier than the sky on its prettiest days, calmer than the hottest nights of her land… and swaying in a soothing rhythm like a roaming caravan camel ride.

Lola thought she already knew all the shades of blue the waters could take, but she was wrong. She thought she knew all the scents they could possibly give off, all the ways they could caress her skin and all the shivers they could send along her spine. She was wrong.

These new waters were a cradle of mystery, a complete stranger to the connoisseur she thought she was. The breeze was cooler, the smell stronger and the sight bluer. It was completely different from everything she had ever experienced before. A part of her found it threatening, but another part of her felt strangely comforted.

The ocean showed her an image of herself she was never able to see before. Beautiful she thought, almost a clarity in the picture… and it hit her.

She could see a thin string of midnight blue outlining her face on the surface of the water, reminding her of some of the moments when her secret revealed itself. But the purples never showed up, and it seemed like it was a hopeful beginning. It seemed like she travelled far enough for the curtains to slowly fade away… to never open again.

Lola escaped, seeking a total fresh start, but her new reflection spoke of different words. It used terms like true self, cherish and hope. It talked in a voice that sounded like her mother’s but with an intonation that was more familiar to her father. It was captivating and she wanted to listen to it speak for hours. She found warmth in her new told stories, so she kept sailing, and she was happy.

Seas, oceans, rivers… as long as there was a connection, she wandered. Along the way, she kept reaching out to her new reflected self, and it spoke to her. Each time, as she listened, she dangerously drifted into this outer world, where her newly discovered reflection was the star of a one-woman show with endless adventures to share.

* * * *

The days went by, resembling each other more and more. Differences turned into similarities, excitement into routine and Lola started feeling the newly found interest leave, just like several ones before did. She reached again the doorstep of monotony, and a feeling of lethargy filled her, all the way from her head down to her toes. As she sailed further away, the old feelings of her motherland got to her: the same very well-known feeling of emptiness refilled her, and the excitement started fading away…

Until she, eventually, got lost.

She was lost at sea and started losing the lust to sail. She passively remained in her boat. Her alone-adventure wasn’t as thrilling as it used to be. The stories she loved shortened as the reflection became more silent. Her instants of happiness were disappearing by the day, abreast of the unforeseen weight of murk, growing heavier on her shoulders, by the same days…

Until darkness, eventually, devoured the light.

She lost all desire to seek synergy with the waters. Weary from the weight of her newly acquired