Mazy

By Tiara Nostrand

Almond's past haunts her in the darkest way and she cannot face the truth. It gets worse as reality seems to slip away into a world she cannot make any sense of. She struggles accepting her new reality as it gets harder to tell the difference from what is real or not. Despite it all Almond fights to save the creatures who have crossed her path in a world that once only existed in her mother's bedtime stories. After many dangerous encounters with deceitful creatures, Almond finds herself in a mental health facility with unethical stories of monsters, walking and talking animals, mountains with faces and rippling skies. Almond must trust in herself. She must do the unimaginable to get to the truth or find her sanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662404603

Book preview

Chapter 1

Gumball Water

There I was, looking down at the unimaginable, a pristine oasis, leaving me speechless. Words are not enough to explain what I am looking at as I rise higher into the sky. It has been an ongoing battle with myself, trying to figure out what is real and what is not. I do not know what to expect when I get there and I am not afraid anymore. A few days ago, I feared it all; I guess I adapted. There is no such thing as odd anymore. What I do know is I never thought I would forget where I come from.

Woken by the sound of snow and ice tumbling off our tin roof and heavily dropping onto the ground. The sound startles Sparkle, who dives from the top bunk where he always sleeps and lands on my lap, crouching and shaking in fear. He lifts his head from beneath my hand to peek his wide eyes out and wander them around my room, scoping out every toy, trinket, shadow, and dark corner for signs of danger. Just like a scared cat, every hair on his back stands on end.

It’s okay, Sparkle. It’s just snow. My faint chuckle grabs his attention.

Crazy lemur. The power is out.

After a moment of comforting him, I set him on my shoulder. He clings his little hands to one of my braided pigtails I knew this would happen, so I feel somewhat prepared for this. I slide my hand down my wooden shelf, searching for my cell phone. I use the light to find my jeans and shirt. I then make my way down the hall to the dining room table where my dad set up a gasoline lantern last night before bed. Snap, snap! The flame quickly grows at the tip of the match as it met with the wick inside the lantern. I set the flame on low, and with the lantern in my grasp, I walk out of the dining room, curious to see if my dad is still sleeping. It is odd that breakfast is not already on the table. He left his door cracked slightly open as he usually does. It is just enough to see his dark room. I do not want to wake him. If I push the door open it will drag heavily on the carpet and squeak in the hinges. I rest my ear close to the door and I listen through the opening. I love to listen. It is not just my dad’s faint snore; it is the ticking of his silver wristwatch resting on his nightstand, the fly that is too cold to move because it is stuck in the icy condensation from the window, and the crackling crystalized ice creeping up the siding of the house with every burst of cold air. He is still out like a light. My dad is always and has always been the first one up in the house. It is like clockwork for him, same time every day with no need for an alarm. I wonder, What time is it? With Sparkle by my side, I tiptoe my bare feet across the smooth tile, stepping down onto the wooden floor of the dining room and sliding my feet onto the cold tile of the kitchen. I raise the lantern to the old bird clock hanging on the wall.

It’s four thirty in the morning. That explains it.

A little lost on what to do this early in the morning, I bring myself to the living room. I blow the flame out in the lantern and set it down on the sheet of stone and marble that my dad keeps on the floor in front of our fireplace. The marble is meant to keep our blue carpet from catching on fire. I stand quietly, looking through our bay window. I rest my hands beside Sparkle on the empty long shelf below the window.

I restlessly want something to do.

I see the dark silhouettes of the trees and the ice heavily weighing them down. I listen carefully to the branches and trees as they snap and fall to the ground, smashing like glass. I hear the ice dangling from willow branches, clinking together like wind chimes in the gentle breeze. I shut my eyes for a moment, painting myself an image of the things I hear. I cannot help but to smile. This is giving me a feeling that I have not felt in a while.

It sounds beautiful out there.

I open my eyes. Sparkle stands with his hands on the glass, looking out.

Let’s go outside.

Too anxious to wait for the sun to rise, I slide on my boots, hat, gloves, and coat. The chill of the breeze blows delicately against me as I open the door. I step outside, closing my eyes, and inhale deeply for that fresh, early-morning chilly air. I then exhale in relief, whispering to Sparkle, Do you hear the chiming of the trees and the dancing frozen leaves? Do you feel that calm cool air and how it is making life sing for me?

I slowly open my eyes as I feel the sun peek over the mountaintops. It kisses my cheek with a hint of warmth in this bitter cold. The ice begins to glisten and the diamonds begin to shine. I keep my head up high in strength and in power as I walk with a gentle grace, as if my touch can turn the smallest thing in life into gold. Like a ballerina, I spin once on my toes as if a crowd of adoring fans are watching me. I stop at the top of the concrete stairs.

I close my eyes and place my hand on the rail made of ice. I carry myself with pride as I descend the stairs, gently gliding my hand along the cold rail. Wide dark blue ruffled cuffs rest on top of each hand. Each cuff hangs loosely, swaying with my every movement and tapers to my forearms. A light blue lace bow with a dark blue design that matches my dress rests below each elbow. The sleeves end at my shoulders with a thin white ruffle hanging low from one shoulder to the other. My dress fits my body snuggly. The bottom flails out from my hips to the ground as if I am on my way to the ball in a fairy tale. I lift my dress slightly with my right hand, enough for the white ruffles beneath my dress to sway above my shiny blue shoes.

Good morning, Princess.

Two little blue jays sing while perched upon the rooftop. Though it is at the crack of dawn, even with my eyes shut, I can see them just as clearly as I can hear them sing—blue puffy feathers, their beaks up high, and the swaying of their heads in the shine of the sun. I bow my head.

Good morning to you.

I continue walking gracefully on my toes until my feet rest on the last step. I slide off the blue hair band that holds my long brown ringlet hair back off my shoulders. Today, I am okay with letting my heavy thick hair rest freely at my hips.

I give a slight nod to the row of bowing pine trees before me. Today they are wearing heavy crystals and diamonds in my honor.

How beautiful, I announce.

Woo haaa.

Someone comes yelling from behind me. I quickly turn to see Sparkle grinding down the railing on an icicle. Under his black open vest, he is wearing a long-sleeve button-down light blue shirt. The cuffs are rolled to his elbows and his little black paperboy hat rests slightly crooked over his one ear.

Woooooooweeee! he yells. Just before he reaches the end of the rail, he kicks the icicle out from beneath him and quickly grabs the light post as he leaps into the air. Sparkle spins around the post to the concrete that rests beneath the rail. He lands swiftly onto his feet. He then slides his hat over his chest and bows. Ta-dah!

He stands back up with pride and says, Good morning, my princess. I laugh and applaud him.

Good morning, Sparkle.

Wow, my princess, please call me Spark. Sparkle is just not manly. Now look at these muscles. Do I look like a Sparkle to you? he says while striking a pose, then pulling his hat back on. He leaps down to the ground before me and once again flexes as if I am impressed by his furry little arms.

Now spark that I have. A lot of spark! he proudly announces as he stands up straight. Using both hands, he tugs on the opening of his vest and stands with pride. I cover my mouth to hold back my giggle from turning into a laugh as a slight breeze takes off with Spark’s hat. I watch Spark slide down the slick, icy hill, chasing after it. Spark is very small with a lot of confidence in himself. I admire that.

With boredom slowly seeping in, I sit down on the bottom step as Spark makes his way back to the top of the hill as he slides his hat back on to his head and leaving his left ear out. I neatly spread my dress, and I rest my head in my hand with a heavy sigh.

I’m thirsty.

Ah, yes. I will go find you some water, Princess.

Thanks, Spark. Do you think you could just call me Almond?

Spark gives me a fake awkward smile.

Of course, Almond it is.

I felt like a princess only for a moment. That feeling I had from the bay window to this last step, it has now withered and gone away. Though my heart is done with this game, the game is not done with my mind. I guess my mixed emotions are getting the best of me. I watch as Spark slides back down the hill and around the house. The long wait begins to bore me even more. I sit here alone with my wild thoughts as my only company. Being alone with just my thoughts is not always a good thing, especially when something is missing—a feeling, closure, emptiness. All great reasons why my thoughts become verbal.

This house shouldn’t be here.

I stand. I open my eyes and wipe the dirt from the back of my old grass-stained blue jeans. I turn and look at my house. It is still a little too dark to see, but how can I forget the large bright red cinder blocks that stack from the ground halfway up and meet with the blue vinyl siding. I frustratingly yell with tears in my eyes.

I should not be here!

With the sun still rising.

How can I imagine myself in another place with this house here? I wish to get away.

I close my eyes as I throw my arms out and my head back. I take in a deep breath and whisper, Please, just take me away.

I stay like this in silence, listening to the crackling of ice and snow. Even my mind rests for this single moment when I overhear a small voice coming from above me.

Come on, come on, this must work.

I slowly look up at the roof of my house. It being two stories high, I am too close to seeing anything up there.

Hello? Who said that?

The sun is now creeping up onto the red bricks and blue siding. I nervously lean my head around the corner.

Who’s there?

With no answer, I slightly raise my blue dress up off my feet and quietly step onto the ground. I do my best to not make any noise. That voice seemed so quiet I don’t want to miss it when it speaks again, but in the same breath, I am not sure if I even heard anything at this point. It could be in my head. Maybe I am going crazy over sliding ice or the whisking of the wind. I let my dress fall back to my feet. I unwillingly let go of my hopes for something exciting. Sometimes logic invites itself in. I begin batting a small icy ball of snow between my feet, then I slide it down the small hill in the driveway when the sound of little feet pitter-pattering across the rooftop goes running to the other side of the house and another voice begins to mutter.

How much longer?

I quickly spin around with my eyes searching the rooftop and my dress in my hand. I take off running on my tippy-toes to the other side of my house. I jump into a sliding stop on the ice and catch my body just before I pass the corner of the house I quickly look up and around the corner, finding nothing. I disappointingly lean my back against the wall. There is no way I can question my madness for a second time. I know I heard something, and it is not one voice but two. Out of breath.

What is going on with me?

A cold splash of water gently hits my cheek. I look up to the side of me. How could I have missed this? A heavy flowing stream of water pours to the ground from a rapidly melting large icicle. It seems as if the flow of water will never end. I do not think much of how odd it is nor do I question why it is melting so fast. It is like a small waterfall pouring from ice, clinging to my roof. The water flows silently, not even making a splash as it collides with the ground. It doesn’t matter. I begin to drink anyways. The cold refreshing water streams through every vein and chills my entire body, satisfying my thirst quickly and turning into an unnecessary, unstoppable craving. I take a step back, mumbling to myself, How odd. It tastes like gumballs.

I do not mind this at all. I continue drinking. A small thump comes from above me. I open my eyes to see a blurry fluff ball with large ears standing on my roof. I scuff back a little slurring my words, Who wa-who do. Why up?

And I collapse onto the ground.

Almond! Almond!

I faintly hear Spark trying to wake me. I slowly open my blurry eyes.

Almond, are you all right?

I sit up and look at my bare feet.

Where are my shoes?

Did you pass out? Here, here, please drink some water.

He points at a small spring beside me. I lean over, seeing my reflection, my face, my braided pigtails, and my red shirt. I cup my hands together and reach into the clear water, rippling my reflection. I bring the water to my lips for a sip. I then look back into the water that now stands still. I once again see my reflection with my blue dress and long ringlet hair.

The icicle!

I jump to my feet and spin around, getting a good look at everything.

Spark, where is the house?

I begin to panic.

It is too bright out. It was dawn a minute ago. We are surrounded by trees covered in ice. Where is our home?

Calm down, Almond. It is all right. You must have hit your head hard.

I run, searching for something, anything familiar.

No! something is not right.

The trees begin to bow. They chime and shine. They seem to be reaching out to me, but I do not want to stop. I run faster and faster until I come to a clearing—a thin icy field with trees on the left and the right, leaving a clear path to the top of a hill where I can see the sun rising. Out of breath and determined to keep going. Feeling as though I had my thoughts together a second ago. Now, I do not know what I am running from. I need answers. I run in hope that the answer I am looking for will be waiting up there. The grass delicately crunches and snaps like glass beneath my feet; I still will not stop, and as I pass each tree, they bow down to me. They each glisten and clink beautifully. Despite my confusion, I keep running.

I do not stop until I find myself standing at the top of the icy hill, looking at what I can only describe as paradise, overlooking the brightest, greenest jungle I have ever seen. Thick exotic plants swallow the land for miles, reaching large mountains in the distance. The rising sun seemingly rests on the mountaintops. In the middle of everything stands a large palace. I stand close enough to make out the beautiful structure. It seems big enough to fit an entire village.

Wow! Who lives there?

Spark, out of breath and leaning on a rock half his size, pants behind me, holding his hat in his right hand, trying to catch his breath. He comes to an overreacting slow painful stand and pulls his hat back onto his head.

You do.

Spark stands by my side as this world slowly sinks in; my face lights up with excitement, and I forget all about what I am to leave behind. I take a step forward, oblivious to my surroundings. Spark yells a warning, trying to stop me as the ice and snow gives out beneath my feet. Spark attempts to grab my dress, but with no chance in saving me, I whisk him off the hill with me. Spark clings to my shoulder as I try to slow us down. I have nothing to grab on to, and we continue picking up speed.

Help! Help! Please! Spark, I can’t stop us!

He begins to fight for our lives just as much as I am. Minutes later, we are still sliding and have not yet come to an end. I am not sure how much time has passed but it has been enough for my panic to become exhausting and my body numbingly cold. I give up and flip myself onto my back. I look over the bluest clearest ocean imaginable. The water looks deceivingly warm from my cold point of view and the jungle resting miles away. Scientifically impossible. Warmth in an ice-cold environment or icy in a warm environment. Everything has a reason behind it. My eyes shockingly come to rest on the bottom of this steep hill. The avalanche of snow and ice that shoved and pushed me to the end immediately melts and streams into a large clear blue ocean. Spark brings his head up from beneath my hair. For a moment, he looks at me with a worrying face, then acts as if he has been fearless the entire time.

See? We will be fine. It is a soft landing ahead.

I admire his strength though, for me, I do not find comfort in his words.

I can’t swim, Spark.

I dig my bare heels into the snow, trying to slow myself down. Spark stands a little higher on my shoulder.

It won’t be too bad. I hear people float.

I flip back onto my stomach, throwing Spark onto my back, and dig my hands into the snow and ice.

No! we sink!

Almond, calm yourself.

Spark pat my head. He then turns, facing the water, only minutes away from us. He crosses his arms as if absolutely nothing can stand in his way.

Almond, you have me to help you.

I feel sorry to burst Spark’s hero-of-the-day bubble.

You can’t swim either, Spark. You are a lemur! It takes a moment for my words to sink in to Spark’s mind. His hopeful stance quickly turns into a fearful jaw-dropping slouch. Spark scurries to my right shoulder; he latches on to my shirt and shoves his feet into the snow, then leans back with all his weight, trying to stop me with all his strength. He grunts.

I am never taking a bath again!

A large shadow slowly rises up over the hill, blocking the sun. I quickly flip back over as Spark hides beneath my hair, slightly peeking over my shoulder. We both watch as all the water sucks into the center of the ocean and spins into the air, creating a large mass of water towering over us. The mass of water bends backward as if it were stretching. The water quickly whips back up with a head. Its shoulders thicken and its long arms spin out, ending in its hands. Every muscle, curve, and line is perfectly sculpted in water. The ocean splashes with it as it moves closer. The water ripples through it as its skin moves as a constant flowing current.

It glares down at me. Strangely, I’m not afraid. It reaches down and scoops us up into its hand. I do not crouch in fear nor do I flinch. I cannot explain it or how any of this is possible. How my dress is still dry? As I sit on its hand, I wonder, Why I am not sinking through it? Or how is it made of water? I lean to the edge of its palm and look down. We are miles up in the air. The water stands still, except for the waves that hug its waist as it swiftly glides through the ocean.

I close my eyes, holding on to its thumb. The wind brushes through my hair, the waves and flowing water soothe me. My racing heart slows down, my nerves relax. I open my eyes to a light tickle on my nose. I laugh as I shake the glitter from my hair, then I look up at it gently falling from what looks like a green planet that rests in the sky. Spark fights to wipe the glitter off with his hat. I smile.

I don’t know why, but I feel like you are the type who likes things that sparkle.

Annoyed by the glitter, he replies, If I may correct you, your feeling is wrong. Sparkling Spark plops himself down and deals with it. I look up at the man made of water. Every so often I see fish, underwater salamanders, and other small odd creatures that I have never seen before swimming in and out of his body. Some leap out of him into the ocean while some swim with the current up to his chest, then back down into the water. I watch as the silver glitter vanishes into his body. I stroke my hand down my sleeve, scooping the sparkles onto my palm. The closer I look, the more I realize they are small shimmering silver snowflakes. I see the ice crystals in each flake as I watch them not melt but absorb into my skin, leaving a faint glow that continues to dim until it disappears.

I wonder if this is magic. Maybe magic explains the odd things here.

Spark gives me a look; maybe he disagrees. It is normal for me to want a reason for why things are the way they are.

 Almond, open your eyes. You do not know your own home. It is now nothing more than a closing gateway to a dying world. I stare at Spark, speechless for a moment. I cannot completely understand him. What gateway and a dying world? I am not following, but in the same breath, he is right. First, I need to figure out my question, then I can search for an answer. I look up at the man made of water. He seems set on his course. He moves with a strong, fast pace as if it is impossible for him to feel tired or the need to rest.

Do you have a name?

He looks down at me in silence. Though his silence is awkward, he has gentle features. Everything about him is soulful and harmless.

He swings his left hand down heavily, splashing water into the air. He quickly brings his hand back up and the water comes together, forming a wall. With every hand signal he makes, the water obeys. Once the top of the wall rest at my eye level, he flicks his hand as if he is throwing a skipping stone. The water spreads into a level table. He continues to walk and pulls the water with him as he forms land, hills, and trees with a river that gently flows in the center of everything. He shifts his model to a different angle for a clear view of the river. Realizing he has no voice, I look at him.

Pleased to meet you, River, and thank you. River bows his head. He put his hand down and allows his table to cave in and tumble into raging waves, then calm into still water. River slowly begins to shrink to a smaller size as we come to shore. He points to the palace that rests in the far distance over the mountains, through miles of thick jungle and greenery.

Wow, it looks much farther than what it did when we were up on that hill.

Nothing is as it seems here, Spark replies as he leaps to his feet.

River continues to shrink. The palace is no longer in sight.

Chapter 2

The Red Scarf

I dig my toes into the warm sandy shore where River set us down. River leaps backward, stealthily blending into the clear blue water. Not a ripple, wave, or splash. Even the fish stay in place as if nobody is there. River reappears, popping his head up like a fishing bobber. He rises up, standing a few inches taller than me. River then glides over to a boulder resting in the sand close to shore. Without struggle or force, River lifts the small boulder and reaches beneath it, pulling out a worn brown leather satchel; he then drops the boulder and hands the satchel to me. It is not like I can get answers from a man of water who cannot speak. I look to Spark who stands gawking at me, maybe analyzing me; either way, it is uncomforting.

There are many ways one can speak. It is not him who is silent. It is what you are understanding.

Once again, Spark leaves me lost for words and slightly nervous that he has the power to read my mind. Shrugging off my inconstant thoughts and Spark’s unhelpful words, I open the satchel and pull out a clear plastic bag sealing a red scarf inside. The scarf has been torn in half with writing on the back. In small fine black print, it says, Moon.

Spark shrugs his shoulders. Is there anything else in the bag? Hoping for an explanation.

Just a letter to Mazy.

River points his finger in a random direction. He then signals us to hold on a minute before diving back into the water.

I may not like being clueless, but if I am anything, I am patient. I climb to the side of the boulder and sit with my head resting on my hand. I zone my thoughts into the sounds of the jungle and the swishing of the water rolling onto the shore when the satchel moves—a small motion that I easily ignore with the lingering thought of how insane I sound. The bag makes a startling movement. I jump to my feet and rip through the bag to find nothing but the scarf, letter, and the bottom of an empty bag. It pulls and squirms in my hand. I drop the bag and letter into the sand. I watch and wait for something to move. Spark clearly shows his boredom as he scribbles in the sand with a twig. He stands and moseys over to me as if I am some kind of huge disappointment. Maybe I am overreacting.

Spark, I felt something move.

He drops his stick and picks up the letter. He shakes it, then he puts it back into the satchel and picks up the bag with the red scarf. He shakes it. Nothing. Spark slowly unzips the bag and finds nothing but the old scarf. He shoots me a sharp look, confirming my crazies and a loss of hope in me. A hope that I do not understand and a leap of faith that I could have easily warned him not to entrust in me. He throws the open bag and the red scarf to me as he says, Whatever it was, it’s gone.

Spark once again picks his stick up and sits back down. I peek into the bag, questioning myself. A figment of my imagination or my mind playing tricks on me. I open the satchel. I slide the bag in and close the flap. Before my fingers latch the satchel, something forcefully thrusts against my hand, fighting to get out. I hurl my hand back away from the satchel, and the scarf flies out, charging for the sky. I fight to grab on to it as it slithers through my fingers and out of my grasp. I stop with my feet in the water, helplessly watching the scarf flap and flop higher into the sky. I feel somewhat guilty. There must be some kind of importance