There’s no reason to stand around outside, Chloe and I return to the house. Janah’s returned with Sloane and Danika. We go to the dorm for a conference.
“Do we take out these two, or capture and question?”
Danika, “Are Shadows likely to give up information?”
Janah, “They will when I fill them full of drugs.”
“And we needn’t confront, just stick them with tranquilizer, haul them someplace and find out what we want to know.”
Lauren, “Going to let them in the house? See the layout?”
“They aren’t leaving alive to tell anyone. But you raise another point with your question.”
“Yep. This isn’t twenty sixteen anymore. Shadows have gotten more sophisticated. In the old days, they kept almost entirely to themselves. Then we started chasing them. A few came together, some for projects that called for more bodies, some to try and lure us into a trap. We’re a major annoyance, we know what they are, we kill them.”
“What’s your point?”
“I wouldn’t put it past them to be connected, wired as the old cop shows used to say. Something as simple as a phone in their pocket, left on so people on the call can hear the conversation. A description of the room for instance, and their exact location will show up on the GPS. We need to make sure they can’t communicate.”
Eloise, “We search them obviously, take any electronics. I can jam phone signals, even scan them for implants. I’ll do it while they’re unconscious.”
“Should be enough.”
I go outside, find Katya, “We have the drones scanning, you can come inside for now. We think the two will try to scale the wall after dark. We’re going to tranquilize them and dig out what they’re up to. Don’t use the radio, they may be more up to date than we think. I’ll check with Ellen on the roof.”
“I will get the others.”
We feed the kids pizza tonight, eat sandwiches ourselves, keep it light. It may be a long evening.
Seven thirty, eight, eight thirty, the two are still hanging out.
Ellen, “Christ, they could have come now, been standing around for hours doing nothing.”
Janah, “Shadows are impulsive, a byproduct of being able to get what they want when they want it. I suspect they cooked up this scheme and decided to act. It may also be that they wanted to see the layout during the day, perhaps not as impulsive as usual.”
Lauren, “How did they find out we are here?”
“I have no idea, one of my questions for them.”
Amaya, “Pricks are scaling the wall…oops, thing is slicker than they imagined. I’m zooming the audio.”
“Fuckin’ fuck, fuck, what kinda material is that?”
“Ain’t we stupid, standing here for hours without examining the thing. It don’t look slippery, looks like a brown wall. We leaned against it, didn’t slide then.”
We watch while they feel the surface, one says, “Don’t even feel slick, don’t feel sticky either….I think I got it, it’s just smooth, real smooth, like a damn cue ball. Ain’t no seam, no crevice, just flat wall.”
“Must be it. How we gonna get over?”
“Fuck, got the hook up there and can’t climb the rope. Can’t get the goddamn hook off either. They spot it, we’re fucked. We need a ladder, wall’s ten foot high, an extension ladder. Climb up, pull up the ladder, drop it the other side, climb down.”
“Everett, this is turning into a lot of work, and for what?”
“You know for what asshole. You saw the little jewels in town, one finer than the next. We followed their car, this is where they live. We get the grownups under control, take the kids, have ourselves one hell of a time. Ain’t nothin’ beats havin’ a cute young girl grinnin’ up at me while my dick’s in her mouth.”
“We can get lotsa kids Everett, we don’t hafta have these ones.”
“We talked about that fuckhead. All the girls from one family, all of ‘em on a video suckin’ dick, gettin’ fucked front and back, thankin’ us for it! We get young cunt and the joy of sending the video home, and stickin’ it on the web for all the pervs to jerk off to.”
Janah, “They don’t know who we are, they’re after the kids.”
“Amaya, Sloane and I are taking one of the trucks, make sure these two assholes are dead buy the time we show up to collect the bodies.”
Janah, “Hold up. I want to know what they have, more video for instance, maybe even kids parked someplace. Are there other Shadows involved? Tranq them good, then I’m going to have a chat.”
Ten minutes later, Sloane and I are tossing Shadows off the bed of the pickup onto the dirt. The twins drag the bodies to the exterior cellar entrance. The door is open, there is no way to open the door from outside, it has a code, then a manual release from the cellar.
We thump the bodies down the ramp, pull the door to and reengage the manual. I hear the click of the digital lock.
The cellar, or basement, is also a wine cellar, it’s cool down here, fifty five degrees year round. Other than racks of wine, there isn’t much else, we don’t keep stuff we don’t use. Pharmaceuticals, equipment to administer the drugs, our laser guns are all stored here, locked away in fireproof cabinets. Nikko keeps a fair amount of gold, platinum and silver, and twenty million in cash. We haven’t touched any of it since it was stored. We do drink the wine.
Our captures are wired onto metal chairs, one is going to be kept sedated, the other jacked up and questioned. In the old days, Janah might need two or three days to break down a target, extract what we wanted to know, then either wipe their brain or leave them essentially insane. These days, with the synthetic drugs David Li develops in the Shaolin Temple lab, the two pukes will be regurgitating their life stories in minutes.
“Okay folks, upstairs, have a drink. I’ll mind Janah while she finds out what’s what. Grace B will play the interrogation, you can watch it from the comfort of the living room. I assume Kota B has the children occupied?”
Grace B, “No, we thought it would be a great idea to have them listen to two assholes who want to fuck them. Of course the children are occupied, geez.”
I grin, “Got to ask.”
“Yeah, yeah, just get going, I got shit to do.”
Janah injects Everett with Truth, the new and improved version. Then she hits him with a jolt of Wake Up, an amphetamine that makes meth look like candy corn. The beauty of Wake Up is that the target is wide awake, but there’s no rapid heartbeat, no nervous jitters, just no possibility of sleep or even drowsiness. It’s good for forty eight hours, after which you collapse like a skyscraper demolition.
She talks to Everett for twenty, Grace B headphones him and plays white noise, loud, really loud. If he was going to live, he’d be deaf.
Shadow Two is Jamal, aka Fuckhead according to Everett. Same drill. We don’t bother to headphone Jamal, I decide to give Katya the honors. I look into the video feed.
“Normally, Nishiko would be insulted if I didn’t turn Shadows over to her. She’s out of town getting our new home built. So I offer the opportunity to waste these suckers to our newest family, Katya, your call, who do you want to take out the trash?”
“Sister and I, we are coming down. You will leave us, no video.”
Ouch, our boys are in for a difficult evening.
Laser guns are adjustable, a sting, a puncture, a slice or penetration to and through a heart, throat, brain. It can destabilize a spinal cord, instant paralysis. Essentially a bullet-surgical blade combo without the noise or the blood. The laser cauterizes as it cuts. All they feel is pain…or nothing.
While Katya and Katja are inflicting agony with surgical precision, Janah recaps the Shadows confession.
“As you heard, they have loose connections with other Shadows, we have digital leads to follow. Many Shadows change names and accounts frequently, others, usually the less aggressive or perverted, have fairly stable lives. They set themselves up in a career, business consultant, financial advisor, insurance, anything involved with money that can be shuffled around. They pick off pieces, or sometimes the entire account evaporates and the customer has no memory of ever having an account. Seniors with limited family and friends are particularly vulnerable. They also operate as psychics, counselors or therapists. With so many online schools, paper on the wall certifying accreditation is as simple as a cheap printer.”
Chloe, “And these two have the perve predilection, rather obsessed actually. They met in San Diego a few years ago, almost accidentally, stalking the same trio of girls. A Shadow recognizes another Shadow, just as they sense a Shaolin. They joined up when they discovered it was easier to control more than one person by working together.”
“Not much to add, I’m sending a team to their apartment to collect the electronics. What’s already on the dark web is done, it’s been passed around and downloaded so much it will be fruitless to track it. They have more recent video that hasn’t gone anyplace yet, we’ll get that and destroy it.”
“What about the kids in the video?”
“They may not remember anything, the Shadows will have wiped the memory of place and their abusers. The child may still know they were abused, even worse, may remember it as pleasurable. Additional horror happens when the video shows up at home. A few may destroy the video and see what happens with the child, likely very few. Mostly the child goes into therapy, and there are drugs now that can help suppress sometimes even obliterate the memory.”
“And the Shadow is thrilled at the misery.”
“That’s why they do it, beyond the sheer ugliness of child rape.”
Our guests have been obliterated, excruciatingly from the looks of it. If you’re going to mess with children, be sure their Tetyas aren’t psychopaths. When I informed Dasha and Daria, the Mamas, they wanted to fly home and take care of it themselves. Katya assured them the matter would be handled in a way they would find satisfactory.
We wrap them in vinyl tarps, they’ll be unidentifiable ashes. Living where we do, a dumpster would entail hauling trash to the road, a half mile from the house. Given the size of the family, it would be three trips a day for one of the bots. Then the garbage would sit there until the truck came along. Instead, we have a killer incinerator, there won’t even be bone fragments. The incinerator doesn’t even smoke, it’s sucked away through a long pipe with several filters along the way. The air that comes out is cleaner than the air in the atmosphere. Metal residue in the furnace is sucked up by a magnet and separated out. The rest is automatically pressure blasted and washed into the sewer lines.
Janah, “Grace B is tracking the list we got off Everett and Jamal. We might know more by tomorrow.”
“I have Britt for gung fu now, she’s starting her first kata today, Zi is helping her get the moves right.”
I use a slow step training method, first three stances, repeat until perfected, then add a move, repeat…you get the idea. By the end of the kata, she will have dome it a hundred times. She will do that one until she can perform it backwards, then the next. There are dozens of kata, and different schools have variations. I’m going to teach her twelve, more are pointless from a training standpoint. She may simply enjoy learning them, I did. If she wants to, I can show her up to thirty or thirty five additional kata.
I was delaying weapons training, but she saw me doing nunchaka and I caught her practicing on her own. We don’t practice with the fake rubber things, learning goes much better when mistakes lead to busted knuckles or a banged shin. I know, I cracked my knuckles a few zillion times trying tricky moves, I whapped myself on the head more than once, a lot more. Nunchaka are like hitting fastballs, if you think about it, you screw up. Start slowly, speed up in increments, your body will learn what to do. All physical skills involving balance and proprioception are learned the same way, repeat, repeat, repeat.
“Slow down, you’ll get the hang, reverse spins are easier than forward spins, and you’re right handed, the left needs to catch up.”
“I clonked my thumb.”
“We’ll do liniment and qi later.”
She starts spinning again, clonk! “Ouch, dang, can I get the baby nunchaka?”
“What do you think?”
She giggles, massages her knuckle, “I’m gonna get it, just wait.”
“Class is over, tea time.”
“Coming…,” clonk! “Owwww!”
At tea she’s showing the other kids her red knuckles, “Master Sylk beats me with sticks, see?”
Tasia, “You beat yourself with sticks, Tetya Dafna did not ask you to learn nunchaka, you wanted to.”
“Do you see how she is with them? So fast I can barely follow the sticks, and she can launch them in the air and catch them behind her back without even looking. I am going to learn that.”
Nadia, “If you have any fingers left. Come to the room after tea, the Gids will fix your hands.”
Amaya walks in and peers down at Britt’s fingers, “Daphne! What are you doing to our daughter? Chloe, have you seen this abused child?”
Chloe, “She wanted to learn. I paid the price to learn kendo, the children are now kendokas, Britt wanted gung fu.”
Amaya, “I have then learning dance, grace, poise, balance, muscle tone. Why do they need to hit things, or each other?”
“They like it. And it isn’t like your dance classes are all gentility. The kids are exhausted when you’re done torturing them.”
“Hah! And look at the results, taut tight sylphs all. Legs like ballerinas, curvy butts, rock hard tummies, I am genius. I made Lauren what she is today, steamy hot.”
“And celibate, don’t forget celibate.”
“That was her decision, and she’s only semi celibate, she self stims. Are you celibate if you masturbate?”
Janah, “Most people say yes, the religious call masturbation a sin but nobody cares what the religious think, not even the religious Celibacy means no marriage and no sexual intercourse.”
“Dance has made them superb kendokas, as Britt will be a superb gungfunista. With their physical activities, it is amazing they have energy for anything else.”
“We are going into Rocky Horror rehearsals, I have choreographed splendid dance routines, far superior to the original.”
“Then we can back off kendo to once a week until the play is done. It isn’t like anyone is getting older. Kota B will revise schedules if you tell her how much time you need.”
“I sent the costume drawings to Chloe Couture, they have the children’s sizes already, they make all their other clothes.”
“Did Mayumi wonder about the nature of the outfits?”
“I told her they were for a play, which they are, it isn’t like we’re going to walk them around town. The costumes are form fitted, some skimpy, the only risqué one is for Dr. Frank N. Furter, whose name I changed to Dr. Sarahstein. The built to order man on the slab will be a woman of course.”
Grace B, “Janah, I found a woman in Toledo who is on your recently deceased Shadows’ list of contacts. What next?”
“Asha Krishnamurthy, Indian obviously, has a bookkeeping business, sole proprietor. There is a suggestive trail of account changes and license registrations that lead me to believe she is the former Indira Krishna, arrested for fraud in Minneapolis, charges dropped. She was a bookkeeper there as well. Photos of her in Minneapolis, none for her new persona in Toledo. She lives alone. We are hacking her accounts, it is impossible to use only cash anymore, she may be storing assets in virtual currency however.”
“I’ll send a Surveillance team to get photos of Asha, you can run them against the old stuff and verify that she’s the former Indira.”
“There is more. Krishnamurthy appears to have set herself up as a guru and operates a small but rather exclusive ashram on a farm outside of town. It is a tenuous link so far. Our system picked up electronic communications activity between her and woman calling herself Mother Maharshi. The digital footprint suggests Krishnamurthy and Maharshi are the same person.”
“We took down a Shadow scam years ago, kind of a Scientology thing, pay to achieve ‘higher’ something or other. Part of the payment was cash, the other part was offering yourself as sex toys to the leaders, two men and a woman as I recall.”
Janah, “Yes, the carrot was to vault normal human restrictions and inhibitions, restrictions being things like not stealing your employer’s money, or taking cash from daddy under false pretenses and giving it to the church. Free yourself of inhibitions by sexual activity, with the leaders and with your own children. The pitch was that the truly powerful didn’t have to comply to society’s rules. Kind of like politicians. The more you brought in, the higher you moved on the scale.”
“People bought into that?”
“Worked for Scientology until the government started taxing churches. Property tax killed off lots of religions with enormous swaths of real estate, like the Catholics, estates of get rich evangelicals, and Scientology. They still have adherents, but the faithful suckers are miniscule compared to twenty years ago. Once they had to report where the money actually went, people abandoned them in droves.”
Janah, “I’ve got calls to make.”
The days slip by, it’s near tea time, Janah comes in the kitchen, “If the woman is a Shadow, she’s an interesting one. Take a look at the photos.”
Asha the bookkeeper looks the role, prim, neat, black rim glasses, hair tied back. Mother Maharshi could be a different woman altogether, except for two moles, one on her cheek near her earlobe, the other on her neck. Her Maharshi persona has hair down, curly, to her shoulders. No eyeglasses, robe that fills her out more than her bookkeeper skirts. Bookkeeper is attractive in a prim, severe sort of way. Guru is attractive in a warm sort of way. She’s not young, appears to be bumping up on fifty, she maintains herself well. Sometime Shadows, being able to control how you see them, don’t make much effort appearance-wise. Not the case with Krishnamurthy.
“Keeping her game on anyway.”
“So it appears. I’m uncertain as to how to proceed. She may be screwing clients, but it has to be small potatoes. Bookkeepers are almost a thing of the past. Everything is digitized and accounted for as it happens. Bookkeepers work for small businesses, ones that take cash and want to play hide the money, have small payrolls, account for inventory. If she’s lifting cash, it can’t be much. That doesn’t make it good, but it’s not like she’s doing child porn videos, or making dad have sex with his daughter.”
“Janah, if she’s a Shadow….”
“I know, she dies. I’m more curious to see if she’s nothing more than a small time grifter. We don’t go around murdering those types.”
“Or people who set themselves up as gurus. Maybe, considering the expansion of the Shadow…what? …community, there are some who aren’t completely sociopathic. There are degrees of that after all, even in our own family.”
“Okay, let’s confirm that she’s a Shadow first, then we’ll sneak round and track her activities in more detail. We can give Surveillance a couple of days to snoop, if it’s warranted we’ll fly out and see what the Guru is up to.”
We have tea, crackers and cheese today. The sprites are bubbling about the play, but Amaya won’t let them spill details. All our rooms, including the dorm are soundproofed, my owl ears pick up music but not lyrics when they practice. Except for Sloane with her wolf hearing, the rest of the crew say they can’t hear anything at all.
Sloane, “The music is catchy, I recognize Sweet Transvestite, which Amaya is leaving intact musically, some lyric changes. When are you going to Toledo? I want to come.”
“Maybe a couple of days, if Surveillance can’t find much interesting, we aren’t going. I know we’re supposed to kill Shadows, but we aren’t sure she is one, and if she’s only doing light fraud and guru crap, I doubt we’ll bother. If we kill everyone screwing people out of money we’d kill…well, lots of people. And if we kill gurus we’d have to kill all priests and preachers, motivational speakers and a bunch of TV talking heads. There wouldn’t be time for sex.”
“Janah’s not going for that. What’s for dinner?”
“White beans, ham pieces and hot sausage, corn bread.”
Lauren joins us, “Cornbread smells yummy, mom.”
“Ellen added a bit of jalapeno, one batch has crispy bacon too. The other has cheese, the kids like cheese cornbread.”
Sarah arrives from the laser range, “Only got killed twice, Eloise has made that thing a challenge and a half. How’s she doing out in Malibu?”
Lauren, “I’m flying out tomorrow to help install the electronics, mom requires a chaperone, want to come along?”
“Is Sloaney coming?”
Nympho Sarah has a thing for Sloane’s thing.
Sloane, “I may have to go east, so not this trip.”
Sarah, “Too bad, I’ll have to get what I need tonight then.”
Ellen, “You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.”
Sarah, “You know damn well I am the uptown New Orleans Garden District private school educated daughter of a noted surgeon. My parents wouldn’t know a mobile home if they tripped over one.”
“Somewhere, back in the lineage, there was a trailer, complete with a beat up sofa outside, a beer cooler and a rusted washing machine as lawn decoration. Had to be, I just can’t prove it.”
“You don’t seem to mind my sexual availability.”
“Nobody minds, I only make a genealogical reference to the obvious. Speaking for myself and all the other girls you’ve ravaged, we’re glad you have aluminum running through your veins.”
“Sloaney, protect my honor.”
“What honor? If you were honorable, you’d be boring, and you sure as hell aren’t boring.”
Sarah, “Time to shower before dinner, come along Sloaney, we can engage in prelims to the main event.”
They head up the steps, Sarah is a tease’s tease, Sloane will be mildly insane by the time she gets the goods.
Lauren, “Sarah’s sooo hot-tuh, tighter than a bullwhip.”
“Don’t mention whip around her, she’ll drag Mani off for a femdom session.”
“Glad it’s her thing, I have no appreciation of pain, I prefer girls groveling before me, wishing they could have what I deny.”
“That’s a form of femdon.”
Lauren grins, “Yes, and you submit so willingly.”
Britt appears, “Submit to what?”
“To me, I am Queen, mom is slave, have you not noticed?”
“Tetya Dafna serves everyone.”
“Thank you, now go away while we finish dinner prep.”
Lauren, “Going to refresh, cocktails in a half hour?”
“That’s Amaya’s bit, but yes, usually six thirty.”
Britt follows Lauren up the steps, assume she’s headed to the dorm.
Janah comes from the office, “Lauren has a new acolyte.”
“What are you talking about?”
Britt has a fascination with her, maybe fascination is too extreme. She thinks Lauren is beautiful.”
“She is beautiful, stunning….wait, you mean she’s hanging with Lauren in her room, when she’s usually nude.”
“Yes. I think hair brushing is the primary activity, they do each other.”
“Does Britt undress?”
“No, not the couple of times I’ve passed by, the door’s open, they aren’t doing anything in secret. And Britt is busy with the other kids, or with you doing gung fu, or whacking the qi dummies. I’m talking twenty minutes maybe, girl talk time. I sat with them once, makeup was a topic, Britt told us about her training sessions. Britt kept a close eye on Lauren, but then, so did I.”
“Sounds harmless. The kids are practically nude when they’re in the dorm, some of them completely. Shy isn’t in their repertoire. Besides, what’s she going to do, turn into a lesbian?”
Surveillance sent stills and video. Sneaky devils even got into the ashram. Typical stuff, garlands, a big picture of Mother Maharshi, elevated platform with a fat cushion.
They chant, sing a little, Maharshi takes questions and offers conventional answers, conventional for guru-speak. You are not what you take yourself to be, we are all one, most of it direct or reworked quotes from Nisargadatta or Krishnamurti, unaccredited of course.
The small crowd, maybe twenty five, no kids, pays attention but isn’t particularly reverent, there’s no Mother worship. They don’t line up for hugs or a touch on the head.
Janah, “This is harmless. She went from fraudster in Minneapolis to guru in Toledo.”
“Maybe she got enlightened, became a realized woman.”
“Anything is possible. Surveillance got nothing from her bookkeeping activities. Daria is giving her accounts a look from Malibu, check in and see if there’s anything yet.”
I mental Daria, “Hey, how’s the house coming?”
“Less than a month, we sent video feeds, you want to know about Toledo.”
“Zero of interest. She has two hundred fifty three thousand four hundred thirty five dollars and fifty seven cents in a savings account. Five thousand one hundred sixty five in a checking account. Rent and a credit card tap the account every month. Her bookkeeping pay goes in, she spends less than she makes. Accounts for Indira, her former self, weren’t any fatter, her fraud scheme wasn’t much unless she keeps cash in a safe or safe deposit box. The accounts were closed in Minneapolis, she took a cashier’s check for the balances, those were deposited in what are now the Krishnamurthy accounts.”
“Sounds like we have no reason to pry further.”
“Unless Surveillance comes up with something else, we do not.”
“See you soon,” we check out of each other’s head.
“Nothing suspicious, this isn’t shaping up to be much.”
Janah, “Then unless Surveillance listening devices turn up something at her apartment, we save ourselves a trip to Toledo. We have her phone tapped and her email hacked. She doesn’t do enough email to count, a few business questions back and forth. She keeps books for a small chain of convenience stores, a gift shop and a restaurant, all places that still get some cash, most of which I’m certain never shows up on bookkeeping entries.”
We go on about our lives, nothing from Surveillance for a few days, then a batch of audio arrives. Janah and I spend an hour listening to various recordings, I do one file, she does the other.
Janah, “That’s it then, I’m pulling Surveillance. She talks to herself, about nothing like most people do. A few phone calls, no friends or acquaintances over, keeps to herself apart from the weekly Mother Maharshi meetings. She’s lonely, that’s her sad attempt at personal validation, lifting quotes from a couple of guru types.”
“We like Krishnamurti and Nisargadatta.”
“Yes, but we speak of their work we acknowledge it as their work. The children have never read Nisargadatta, but much of what they do is remarkably similar to his teachings.”
“They go beyond his teaching, trips around the universe with Zycyryn.”
“Not that, I mean they live to serve each other, they ask for nothing, give of themselves to the rest of us. Sure, they exercise, dance, draw and perform, some for our entertainment, some is simply sensible care of body and mind.”
“Nisargadatta talks of the Witness, the entity that dispassionately observes, and beyond that, the Supreme. Which contains all, and enables all, but takes no part in directing anything.”
“What the children call the Zycyryn, they enable, but do not interfere.”
“An enigma, they have assisted, they take the children on mystical journeys, and the children say they protect us in our homes. I don’t know if that’s interference, it is influencing events though.”
“True. I don’t know, perhaps the children are a special case, more likely, the children are tapped into the energy, it is they influencing the Zycyryn, or what they call Gids. Nisargadatta says we create the universe, not the other way around. If the children have connected to that reality, it is the Zycyryn who do what the children will.”
“Cripes, I hadn’t thought of it that way. That’s going to take a bit of contemplation. Think I’ll fold up into meditation for a while.”
“I’ll join you, perhaps if we merge.”
Merging means Janah and I, who are in reality one entity that remains as two for the sake of our family’s sanity, become that single entity. If you came on us merged, you might see a girl with long black hair, but sapphire blue eyes, or a girl with pure white hair and my dark, near black eyes. There might be Janah’s curvy body, or my endless legs. It would be hazy, and fluid. In that state, there is bliss, the absolute losing of oneself into the other. We call it Two as One.
In our room, we sit cross legged on the floor facing each other, knees touch. A few minutes later, there is an opaque misty form. Our intimates would see our shape shifting and understand that we are merged. They report it as being the most beautiful mystical magic they could ever witness. Inside of it, we have the same feeling.
A hour later, we unfold, refreshed, still a big lightheaded. I blink, twist my neck, nine children surround the bed. Britt is teary eyed.
“What is it?”
Britt, “They brought me here to see when they felt you merge. It was amazing, and beautiful, there are colors I didn’t know were colors, and a fiery yellow sun in the center.”
I wipe her tears with a thumb, kiss the soft cheek, “I didn’t know the children could sense us in that state.”
Karol, “We are that state, you see us as individuals, we are not.”
Well, that explains that…or something…or nothing.
I’m sitting cross legged on the bed, Britt climbs in my lap, then the rest pile on the bed. Janah and I are surrounded by our mystical little ones. We spend a second hour in what I can only call reverie. There is a hum, I make it out to be the buzz of the Gids…zis-er-n, zis-er-n, zis-er-n, the air is crisp, the room glows blue, sparkles like tiny bolts of lightning, pop on and off soundlessly.