The Shores of Nowhere: Chronicles of Anais

By Xlibris US

Meet Anais Xanthis, a multi-cultural teen who has just discovered a new part of her family history. All she ever wanted to do was enjoy her spring break in Greece. Little does she know, her imaginary friend from childhood was real, and so are many other creatures. Along the way, she learns that not everything is as it seems, and the learning can be fun if it involves Greek mythology. Join her on her journey toward the truth about herself, her family, and those around her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499030808

Book preview

PROLOGUE

W hen I was in kindergarten, we had Show-and-Tell. Everyone else brought in pictures of their families and pets, or their favorite toy or game. When it was my turn to go, Sophie Philips had just finished showing us a football that she had gotten signed by Deion Sanders. She had been talking about how she wanted to be a football player when she grew up. I had been fiddling with the piece of paper on my desk and had barely realized my name had been called. I removed myself from my desk and shyly walked toward the front of the class only staring at my piece of p aper.

I’m right here with ya girlie! A familiar voice said to me.

I to my right and smiled at the girl that had been with me since I could form gibberish. She had long hunter green hair in pigtails and a bang. She had on a royal purple ruffled dress with a large hold bow tied to the back that looked like it was made for a princess. She wore gold slippers, a gold tiara, and even the elastics that tied her pigtails were gold. Her name was Nova, and she was my imaginary friend.

What do you have in your hand Anais? our teacher, Mrs. Brennan, asked.

My—my paper, I unfolded the paper and showed it to the class, It’s a painting of my hand. My daddy helped me make it. He always tells me that with these, special things happen. He tells me that I am meant for something special.

Everybody’s mommy and daddy say that. No you’re not! A redheaded boy said from the back of the class prompting the other children to giggle.

Enough of that! Andrew, put your name on the Bad Seed Board for the day, the teacher told him.

I crumpled the piece of paper up, put it in my pocket, and ran outside of the class. I buried my face into my knees and cried. Nova sat beside me, and I looked at her with my running tears and snotty nose. They don’t know you like I do. People are just such meanies sometimes! When you come and visit me, it will be way better than here. Then, Nova’s eyes widened and black sand whirled around her. Engulfed in the sand, she disappeared into the floor.

I was wondering why she left when a tissue was put in my face. I took the tissue and looked up. It was Tristan. He sat down and hugged me. We didn’t say anything at all. We didn’t need to. The teacher let us sit there until school ended.

At dinner, I sat in my seat silently mixing my food the entire night. Soon it was time for bed; my father entered the room with something in his hand.

Lotus, he began, calling me by the nickname he gave to me as an infant, Why did I find this crumpled when I washed clothes?

The kids in class laughed at me and said I wasn’t special. I’m not. They’re right. I turned to face the wall and hid my face under the blanket.

Look at me, he said. I did as I was told. He folded the paper and placed it on the lamp stand. He took my right hand in his so that my palm showed. He took his index finger and traced from the tip of each of my fingers to the center of my palm. "Five elements of your life, unified to decide who you are meant to be, leaving you with the decision of who you choose to be. Gnôthi seautó, my darling daughter."

What does that mean? I asked not even attempting to pronounce what he had said. When he would grow weary, he tended to remind me of pictures of his mother, a Chinese elderly woman who lives in New York. My grandfather died before I was born. I had little knowledge about him except that he wanted his first born granddaughter to have this cheongsam, a traditional Chinese dress, which he had given to my grandmother to wear for their wedding. I always wondered how long it would take for me to grow enough to fit it.

"Gnôthi seautó. It means ‘Know thyself’. You do that and everything will work out as it is meant to. At the end of the day, any words those children say to you are just that: words. You give words power and meaning over you. And I won’t let the words of those children hurt you. You have power beyond your understanding, like your father’s love for you, He responded. He then tickled me, his four-year-old daughter, to the point of hiccups. Then, we both laughed and he lay beside me. He sang my favorite Chinese lullaby to me, O Little Lotus Flower", until I drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER ONE

Did you know, all of those gods and goddesses (you know: Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, etc.) were once human? They were given their powers by Gaia, the Creator. Now, religion is one of the things everyone hates to somehow end up in an argument over, other than politics of course. The truth is, every religion is real, and what you believe determines where you go. If you’re a bad seed but believe in reincarnation, make sure you don’t end up a cockroach in New York or something. Therefore everyone argues for nothing. No god in particular is better than the others. That type of thinking is why the Olympians didn’t last long after declaring themselves gods and goddesses. You see, humility is the key. For that, I thank you, Father.

N ow class, I want you all to enjoy your spring break, said Mrs. McAllister, our Spanish teacher. She erased everything on the board except a page number and stood beside her desk.

Yes! the entire class said simultaneously. It seemed as though we were all staring at the clock waiting for the bell to ring and as a result, signify our week of freedom.

After you do your assignment, she added as she picked up the book on her desk and showed us the poem we were to memorize.

The room was instantly filled with Aw man! Really though? and C’mon! I just sat there quietly because I didn’t care. I was going to spend my entire spring break in Greece! Sure I’d have to memorize the condensed version of La Canción del Pirata before I got back, but that would be no problem. My mother is Hispanic; it’s in my blood. She taught me so much. Plus, I love the Spanish culture. Everything I learned about it just made me appreciate my heritage even more. I love being a mixed breed. I inherited her forever growing medium brown hair and 5’4 height. However, I inherited my father’s eyes. My mother is Hispanic, and my father is Chinese. Well, he was Chinese.

He died 2 years ago. He was a stuntman for Broadway plays and also owned a dojo. He had a fatal accident during rehearsal for The Three Musketeers. We were told that someone switched a fake sword with a real one and pierced a vital organ. By the time he reached the hospital, it was too late. My mother had to read it online before even getting a call from the directors. We live in Virginia, so being so far away from him during something like that hurt her. He died right before we had the chance to take a trip to visit him during spring break. Spring break then became an anniversary of his death.

However, things were looking up for this break. I was going to get to visit another freaking continent! The excitement was overwhelming. I’d had the itis all day and barely listened to my teachers. Most of the teachers gave us tests that day since they figured there would be little studying done by any of us (but of course, there’s always that one teacher)…

When the bell finally rang, the door became as crowded as Walmart on Black Friday. I took my time packing my blue backpack and just smiled thinking about all the fun I would have. After I got up from my desk, Tristan got up from his as well. His sat two seats behind me. Tristan had been my best friend since we first met in my father’s dojo at the age of 3. My father made sure my two brothers and I grew up with knowledge of at least one form of self-defense. He taught Karate, Kendo, Kenpo, Kickboxing, and Kung Fu.

Someone seems happy, Tristan said as he walked over to me. The door was no longer full, and we still had some time before school ended. "And color me crazy, but I don’t think it’s because you learned more lines than just ‘Son mi mùsica mejor alquilones,’ he added with his cocky grin, fiddling with the collar on his favorite button-up shirt. Tristan was about 5’9 with pretty boy looks. Luckily, he acted nothing like your cliché pretty boy, or we definitely would not have gotten along. I always liked playing with his hair, though he preferred keeping it cut. It could be a semi-afro one day and just a head full of curls the next. He had hazel colored eyes that the girls loved with the most amazing personality. He’s had my back since I met him, and we’ve had almost every class together since elementary school. I’ve been proud to call him my best friend ever since (he hated the term ‘bestie’ although I continued to use it).

Why wouldn’t I be? I responded with a slight laugh, I am leaving tonight to go to Santorini, Greece!

Alright just don’t forget us boring people of the shore while you’re over there flirting with Greek guys and shopping your head off.

"I will so not be flirting."

Yeah, if you say so, he said pulling me into a bear hug, but remember to be careful. It’s a different world over there.

Can’t… breathe!

My bad, said Tristan as he finally released me from his grip. We started walking toward the exit of the school.

Thanks. I’ll be fine Tris. I should be the one worried about you. These girls are gonna eat you alive this week, paying you to wash their already clean cars and mow their perfectly fine lawns just for the view, I said sticking my tongue out at him.

Gotta make that money somehow, he laughed with a shrug of his shoulders.

I gave him one last hug and shook my head at him. I walked over to the car that my older brother Xander and I share. He was already in the driver’s seat, so I got in the passenger’s side. I heard Tristan yell Don’t forget my souvenir! as we pulled out of the parking lot and made our way home.

On the way, Veridian reached from his seat in the back and put his painting in my face. Since our father died, Veridian had become mute. I had recently put him in a sign language course to take the pressure off that our mother placed on him. She didn’t understand how traumatized someone could truly get. Events affect people in different ways, and although Veridian was the youngest, I believe he had taken it the hardest. He’s 3 years younger than I am. He is so caring, and I have always looked out for him. He is also an amazing artist. I frequently bought him acrylics, pastels, or any other items he needed to create his art. Of course, our mom bought a lot of it for him as well. He’s her baby after all, so of course. He does go through periods where none of us are allowed in his room, especially when he’s focused on one of his pieces.

Geez it’s a good thing I wasn’t the one driving, I said taking the picture from him.

He showed it to me, too, said Xander with his eyes cautiously on the road. I swear, the guy was afraid to even blink any time he was behind the wheel.

I rotated the painting and took a good look at it. It looked like a really weird mountain, but it was somewhat translucent at the top as if it was a tan iceberg. There was a bright sun and clouds behind it. This is really good V, I said, and it was. Whatever it was, it had very intricate detail. It was then that my palm began to itch. I handed the painting back to him, and he smiled at me. When I turned around, I put the visor down to check my face in the mirror. I could see that his expression had changed. He looked troubled holding the painting. I suddenly got a headache. It wasn’t a migraine, just a cluster headache. I saw purple and gold in my peripheral vision. I decided to pull my hair to relieve my headache, and it worked. Sometimes, there really was something to those simple remedies.

We pulled into the driveway and parked our little Pontiac beside our mom’s Accord. We all got out of the car, and I bolted inside. I could not wait to start packing. What do they wear in Greece? What’s the weather going to be like there? How many pairs of shoes should I bring? Decisions, Decisions! I had finally finished with my last bag when I heard a knock on my open bedroom door.

Dang, how long you planning on staying there, the rest of the semester and the summer? Tristan said with that cocky grin of his.

Ha ha ha very funny. Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me close this last bag, will ya?

He walked over to me and closed it with no problem. I rolled my eyes at him, and he tackled me. I was going to miss him; we were going to be time zones apart from one another. I finished helping V pack, he said, I told him to make sure to take is paint supplies with him. I think he decided he’d rather take pastels to Greece instead. Tristan has always protected Veridian in school, but they became especially close after our dad died. Sometimes, he took V to the wildlife refuge, so he could see all the animals along the trail. V loves all things animal and nature. I think he finds inspiration there. He communicates with them more than us.

Forgot my lady products! I said abruptly.

And that’s when I exit stage left… he said. He gave me one last hug and walked out of the room, "Buen viaje, Ana."

I rolled my eyes at him and went in my dresser drawer to get my box of sanitary napkins (you can never be too safe right?). I opened the small compartment on the side of my luggage bag and stuffed a few in there. I heard a crinkle and realized something was in there. I stuck my hand in there and took out a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it, and another piece of paper fell to the floor. There was something on both pieces; I picked up the other paper and looked at it first. On it was a blue hand print with a yellow palm. There was a green line going to the end of the paper. It was the painting of my hand that my father had helped me make when I was younger. I looked closely at the crumpled paper. The wrinkles made it look like a flower. The cursive writing in the corner confirmed my thoughts. O Little Lotus Flower was written in the same green marker as the stem. I could feel my eyes start to water and a smile start to form. I shook it off and read the second page, a letter:

To My Lotus,

If you are reading this, then I am no longer in your realm of existence. I am so sorry that I am no longer there to protect you. However, you have always had the strength to keep this family from falling apart. I have put this into effect so that you receive this around your Spring Break. I want you to remember. Remember all of those things I told you as a child. Remember the language that I only spoke to you. The lessons I taught you, the stories I told you, they were all real. You shall always hold my heart as you were the one to warm it when I held you in my arms for the first time. I know that you did not mourn me like your two brothers. You still felt me there. I am always with you Lotus. And when you feel alone or in danger, sing the lullaby that I used to recite to you; always know that I am there to protect you. I call you Lotus because you remained everything good in this world no matter what bad things may have happened around you. You accept help when you need it. The lotus flower grows from mud without a stain in the world.

All My Love,

Patera

P.S. Thánatos oudèn diaphérei tou zên.

I could no longer hold back tears. I fell to the floor leaning against my bed. Thánatos oudèn diaphérei tou zên. Death is no different than life? What is that supposed to mean? What am I supposed to remember? I felt the pain coming back near my left temple. Why am I just now seeing this? Did he know he was going to die, or is this someone’s sick joke? I got up, put the papers in my purse, and wiped my tears.

Mija, you ready? You know we got a plane to catch, and they don’t wait fa nobody! I heard my mom call from downstairs. My mom is your typical Hispanic mother. I love her to death, and she makes sure we’re comfortable telling her everything. You know that thing about moms having eyes in the back of their heads or having a third eye? Well, I swear they’re real because she knows what we’re going to do before we do sometimes. One day at dinner, we were all eating and she told Xander to pass the enchiladas. After he gave them to her, the only thing she replied with was Gracias mijo. Oh yeah, you’re grounded for sneaking out to that party you wanna go to later. He sunk in the chair speechless. V and I couldn’t help but giggle.

I went downstairs with my two bags of luggage and my purse and put them in the truck. Our abuela drove us to the airport. It was a long drive, and I was so glad I had my mp3 with me. Listening to my mother and my grandmother argue in Spanish about my mother’s parenting and exaggerating about how we children are so thin like starving children from a Third World country was torture. Do you know how bad that sounds? She told us that Angelina Jolie was going to think we needed adopting! We couldn’t arrive at the airport soon enough, the battery on my mp3 was halfway gone, and we still had an eternity long flight ahead.

When I first got on the plane, I realized someone was sitting in my seat. I politely informed him, and he checked his ticket. He was dressed for a business trip; his outfit screamed Corporate America. What didn’t scream Corporate America was the used handkerchief he repeatedly blew his nose into. He rose from the seat and professionally excused himself. Being the hygiene-conscious person that I am, I pulled out hand sanitizer on instinct. I was pulling out the book I had brought with me to read and remembered that I had put the papers from my father in there as well. I took out the painting of my hand flower, and something weird happened. It didn’t feel like my heart skipped a beat, but more like my body stopped while my heart kept going. I drew in a deep breath and just decided to take out the book. The edge of the book had a little red tinge of blood on it. I shrugged it off and used my sanitizer. Shhhhiiii– stupid paper cut. I thought. I mean, what else could it have been? That sting is something terrible when you don’t expect it. My nail clippers weren’t in there, and all I had touched in my purse was paper. Maybe paper cuts are trees’ revenge for cutting them down. I randomly pondered this as I fiddled in my purse to the point where I had forgot what I was looking for.

After the plane took flight, I felt so relaxed. This was my first time flying, and as apprehensive as I was, the drowsiness put all of my nerves at ease. I was exhausted; I put my pillow behind me. I