The Story of Madrika

By Rosanna Pittella

When Madrika, 16, loses her grandmother, the only family she's ever known, an incredible magical journey begins. Everything normal to her; enchanted, hot, spicy, apple muffins, wolf companions, with whom she speaks, her extraordinary ability to hear the thoughts of others, become trivial when compared to her glorious, abnormal new life ahead.

 

Madrika learned there is far more to her than she or anyone in her sleepy little town might have imagined. Madrika is powerful magical! With wondrous supernatural beings at her side, her real education begins. Journey along with Madrika, her wolves, and unusual friends as she encounters good and evil.

 

The story of Madrika describes her metamorphosis as she taps Love & Destiny to right long, festering wrongs and become of the Empoweress. 

 

Madrika story is a reminder of the magic, the sparkles and vibrates within us all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosanna Pittella
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781738121915

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The Story of Madrika

Copyright © 2023

Rosanna Pittella

All rights reserved.

Editor: Mike Harding Barbara L Wyatt

Cover & Interior Layout: Mike Harding

Cover Art: Pat Eberhard

Artist unknown for several cover items at time of publication

Interior Art: Betty Bruce

The moral and intellectual property rights of the author, editor, and the graphic designer has been asserted. No part of this book is permitted to be translated, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in whole of in part by any means without the written permission of the author nor be otherwise circulated in any form, binding, or cover other than that which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the purchaser. Without in any way limiting the author’s, artist’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Published by: One Voice Institute

ISBN: 978-1-7381219-4-6

Second Edition

Published and printed in Canada and the United States of America

The views expressed are solely those of the author. The publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

to all the magic in the world. to those who recognize it within themselves. to those who use it on their journey for the greater good. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to the universe that defined my path and therefore, me as I am today, privileged to share Madrika with the world, especially the children of all ages that need her.

I am sincerely grateful to the 3 beautiful, ponytailed girls that populated the backseat of my Trailblazer commuting hours to and from 3 different schools, who first loved Madrika. Most of  all, I am deeply blessed by the most recent Rockstar on my life's stage, Lucas, to whose happiness and success I am fully dedicated, forever. 

I sincerely appreciate you, Reader or listener of The Story of Madrika, knowing it will multiply your personal magic, and thus will brighten your life and those with whom you share it.

CHAPTER ONE

Madrika woke up as she had for as long as she could remember to the sweet, delicious aroma of her grandmother’s freshly baked apple-spice muffins. She blinked awake as the morning light streamed through her windows, hearing the familiar chirp of birds nesting outside.  Looking around her room, tidy and pretty with everything in place, her tummy rumbled for that first bite of soft, warm, buttery, spicy muffin, made from her grandmother’s secret recipe. In that moment, Madrika remembered. She remembered that yesterday, her beloved grandmother had passed away, moving on to 'her next level of service’ as she called it, a'higher plain’ and all that.

But, wait, were there not muffins in the oven? What? Could it all have been just a terrible nightmare? Oh how she hoped it was true!

Madrika leaped from her bed, knocking all the snowy bed linens to the ground. Her grandmother would have been appalled. Madrika ran to her grandmother’s bedroom, hoping to find her making the bed or sitting in her rocker waiting for her morning hug, or at the window watching the deer who visit every day, munching happily on fallen apples in their orchard. But the room was empty, bed made, no sign of grandmother. There were muffins though; she could smell them—grandmother had to be here somewhere! It was just a bad dream; it had to be.

Madrika dashed down the steps waiting for the usual reprimand. Am I raising a moose or a granddaughter in this cottage, young lady? Madrika flew to the kitchen—no grandmother, but yanking the oven, she saw what she knew must be there, fresh hot steaming apple muffins. They were real! grandmother had to be around here somewhere. 

Still in her bedclothes, Madrika threw open the front door and ran around the cottage and the orchard, calling for grandmother and listening for her response. Finally, she sat down on the porch step, breathless and confused. The mourning doves, the crows, and the bluebirds flew down from the trees and sat respectfully around her on the porch step. The mama doe, who Madrika called Deer, and her baby, who she called Baby, came close and sat down near the bottom step with sad eyes. Baby stepped up to sit beside her, pushing her head into Madrika’s hand. He Wolf and She Wolf came around from the back of the cottage, carefully winding their way around the deer and birds to take position in their usual majestic spots on either side of the front steps. Everyone sat together, keeping Madrika company as she spoke half to them and half to herself.

Well, my friends, I guess it is just us now. I guess we have to carry on, as grandmother would say. Madrika’s voice quivered a bit. I was sure she was still here.  Somehow, she left me those muffins, she added, motioning towards the still open cottage door. Then, standing, she said, Everyone, stay where you are, just a sec.

Madrika dashed up the steps and returned in a flash with her hand in an oven mitt carrying a steaming muffin pan. 

Let’s share these together. Right? Grandmother would approve that we eat these together, out here in the morning air, and talk about all our happy memories of her.

With that, Madrika placed the pan beside her on the top step, and in between bites of hot, delicious spicy apple muffins, she broke off pieces and threw them to the birds, the wolf couple, and the deer family. She told her guests all her favorite grandmother stories, how every single birthday was always complete with a three-layer cake and at least ten amazing presents.  She had parcels and packages wrapped in rainbow paper, and what treasures they contained! Beautiful books, toys, games, ribbons for her hair, dresses and shoes with hats to match, a tea set and a chess board and so many other things.  But the best part was how every birthday, grandmother would talk about the very first day that she ever set eyes on Madrika.'The most beautiful, sweet, angelic baby from the very first day.’ who made her heart burst with pride and was the breath of her existence.

On birthday nights, they would stay up late into the night and grandmother and she would sing songs, play games, eat all the candy and cake they wanted, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Madrika reminded the wolves of when He Wolf had stepped into a snare and She Wolf had trotted right up to Madrika and grandmother picking apples, making it quite clear she needed their help. She reminded them of how grandmother had instructed Madrika, only eight years old then, how to hold He Wolf’s paw just so, and help free him but in the most painless way. The two wolves had slept in Madrika’s room for five nights while the poor leg healed, but soon He Wolf was good as new!

Spontaneous fun with grandmother was normal... like last-minute tea parties with special invited guests; a squirrel long gone now but replaced by a new one grandmother had found, a bunny that now was a momma with countless babies, and a tiny chipmunk all on the breakfast table sharing muffins. Grandmother had explained to Madrika that people fear what they do not understand, and it was so wonderful that Madrika understood all her forest friends and needed not be afraid of them. 

Talking to her forest friends made Madrika feel less sad. It was hard to believe that grandmother would not walk up the path or call from the kitchen. Somehow, Madrika still thought she might. Madrika chatted on as the doves nodded and the deer family chuffed, with Baby now asleep with her head on her leg, and the wolf couple licked their chops for every last morsel of the sweet muffins. Meanwhile, black Squirrel and chubby Rabbit skittered around the porch steps picking up every last crumb.

When they had consumed the full dozen, Madrika stood up, empty pan in hand, and stepped down to pat and nuzzle her furry and feathered visitors. 

Thank you, my friends. I think what we have done here this morning would please grandmother more than any other kind of service—she always said the god-fearing townspeople would insist on something like that someday. I told them yesterday that she did not want this. She wanted to be buried behind our cottage and this is what she arranged a long time ago.  You all get scarce though when you see the wagon from the town come this way. The gravediggers will place grandmother in the ground under the rose bushes like she wanted. No tears now, Madrika sniffed. Grandmother would not like that one bit.  I am going to make a good strong pot of coffee and get changed out of my bedclothes.

She blew them kisses, just as she and grandmother always did, and went back into the house to make coffee and her to-do list for the day. Grandmother said everything good starts with a list, so a list she would make.

The first day without grandmother seemed was a fresh very long Madrika busied herself making her list, the top item of which said,'Find a recipe for muffins so you can eat some and bring some to the general store’. It seemed amazing that she had lived in this cottage her whole life, enjoying grandmother’s secret recipe muffins and never once did she ever see the recipe on a piece of paper. But grandmother mentioned that it was all written down in a notebook for her for 'someday’. Thus, the second item on her list was,'Find grandmother’s Notebook’. 

Madrika decided those two items were enough for now and grabbed her second large, steaming cup of coffee with honey, and proceeded to look everywhere in the cottage for the notebook with the recipe.  It was not on the bookshelves, nor in any of the kitchen drawers or cabinets, not in the pantry, nor in the nook under the stairs. Perhaps she’d find the notebook in grandmother’s room.

When she walked up the stairs, coffee in hand, she felt a little uncomfortable. It didn’t seem right to touch grandmother’s things nor rifle through her drawers without permission. She stopped in the doorway of grandmother’s room and took it all in. This room was always the most calming, healing place in the world for Madrika.  When she felt sad or hurt herself, or had a bad dream, or was sorry for breaking something she should not have touched—whatever the pain—grandmother’s room and grandmother were the cure. grandmother would take her into her lap and rock her on that rocking chair; patting her back and smoothing her hair while whispering and cooing that everything would be alright. There would be happy smiles and lots of laughter again. Grandmother would say 'they were made of sturdier stuff than that’. Whatever was at play, it could not throw them for a loop, now, could it? And, of course, everything was always alright.

When Madrika caught a cold or fever, or the sky split apart with lightning and thunder, she slept in grandmother’s arms under a down comforter where no one or nothing could ever harm her.  Instinctively, she sat on the bed and took her grandmother’s pillow in her arms and hugged it, burying her face in its clean coolness. grandmother’s perfume of soap and her favorite rose water filled Madrika’s head. The scent lifted her spirits as it always did, and she could almost hear her grandmother say, Now that we feel better, let’s get to work!

Madrika patted the pillow back into place and walked about the room, carefully and respectfully opening every drawer, peering at every item on every shelf and checking every inch of the small closet. Hanging there was grandmother’s forest green walking cloak. She had loaned it to Madrika many times when the weather was raining or misting, so that she would be snug as a bug in a rug on her way into town with the muffins. Impulsively, she took down the cloak and brought it to her room, planning to wear it on her next walk outside.

While she was scavenging, the gravediggers came and settled her grandmother in the spot she had picked in the rose garden. They did not knock on the door nor say hello; they just did their work and were gone. Madrika did not even notice their comings and goings with her focus on finding the notebook. She only knew that they had come because she later noticed they had respectfully laid a small pink wreath of wildflowers under the rose bushes on the new mound in the garden.

By the time Madrika had scoured the house for the notebook, it was sundown and she was tired. She grabbed some crackers from the pantry and rested in front of the fireplace, where she fell asleep until morning. When she awoke the following day, the very first thing that caught her senses was a fresh batch of muffins.

CHAPTER TWO

The knock-knock-knocking on the front door of the cottage dragged Madrika from her dreams of delicious hot apple muffins. Other than the winged, webbed, or furry kind, she and grandmother had always received very few visitors, so it was odd to hear the commotion.

With her clothes rumpled and hair askew, from sleeping where she had drifted off in front of the fire, she opened the door to a crowd of townspeople all looking upset and concerned. Several pushed past her to put casseroles, bags of bread, a box of chocolate bars, a wheel of cheese, duck eggs, provisions for an army, including a huge basket of tomatoes, on the kitchen table. Suddenly she was engulfed by the hugging arms and cooing voices of the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, the doctor, the shopkeeper, the minister, the constable, and the school teacher.

Oh look at the poor child, no one to wash her clothes nor comb her hair, said Mabel, the school teacher, her hair kerchief askew, squeezing Madrika against her ample bosom. Poor lamb, come home with me for a bit.

Oh little one what have you eaten today... hmm do I smell muffins? Said the shopkeeper, Sadie, pulling Madrika into her arms. No, of course she should stay with me. Ach... After all, she can bake in the shop kitchen and make those famous muffins while I care for her like one of my own. Madrika, do you want to learn to make kugel?

In reached the Minister, taking Madrika's hand in his darker one and tugging her away from Mabel and Sadie. "Senors, Senoras, Senioritas, you are forgetting, the church has special accommodations for orphans. This child will come with me, take time in prayer, and assist the congregation while she grieves. He patted Madrika’s hand and softened his voice, half whispering to Madrika. But before we go, let’s lay flowers and say some prayers at grandmother’s grave, shall we?"

As Madrika saw the approaching hug from the baker, she pushed away from all the town folk and scampered to the third step of the stairs behind her, holding up both hands. She shouted, Stop! Stop! All of you!

Suddenly there was silence. Madrika smoothed down her errant curls, straightened her clothes, took a deep breath, and addressed the now silent crowd.

All of you, I know you all mean well. I thank you for coming. Nodding at the piles of food, framed by the kitchen doorway, she added, And thank you for all the gifts. You are all so very kind.

Sweetheart, interrupted Sadie, You are just a child. You can’t stay here alone. It’s not safe.  Please. Bubblelah...

Madrika held up her hands again. Please, let me finish. Madrika could sense the motivations of the crowd, mostly good, some selfish. Sadie wanted to help but also wanted a continued supply of very popular and profitable apple muffins. Mabel, the school teacher, wanted to finally have Madrika in formal schooling, something her grandmother had stood against, instead choosing to personally teach her grandchild to read, write, and so much more. The minister knew Madrika’s grandmother was not a believer in formal religion but a worshiper of nature and the universe and its magic. Grandmother would not like any prayers said in her name, Madrika was quite sure.  Madrika could always sense, on the rare occasion that they met on the street in town or at a funeral for one of grandmother’s aging friends, that the minister wanted her to come to church on Sundays like all the other good children. In fact, she could feel the pull of all of the people here who wanted to make her one of them, now that grandmother was gone. She could not. She knew she was a daughter of the universe with a special place in this world and a destiny to fulfill, as grandmother had always said.

Please, Madrika repeated, and then spun