Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

by Marcia Maidana

  “Look!” He pointed back to the bed. I turned from him and gasped at the sight.

  “I’m dead!” I stared at my still body lying on the bed. “It can’t be! I’m dead.” In confusion, I raised my hands in front of me. I couldn’t understand how I still had a body, different—lighter—deprived of tangibility, but nonetheless a body. It was still me. I was even wearing the same blue dress as the body on the bed. I was a reflection in a mirror—a reflection filled with intelligence.

  “You’re not dead. But we have only a small window of time to accomplish our purpose.” His voice was urgent.

  I looked at him in total bewilderment. “What do you mean? What is happening to me?”

  “I’m here to take you back in time. You have been caught in a deceitful web of lies, but if you come with me, you’ll know things as they really are and as they really were. Your mortal body is subject to time and space, making it impossible to leave its sphere. But your spirit body is not. It can be in this sphere in which we are now, which exists without boundaries; we can travel through time without being subject to it. We can see and hear anything that has ever existed or will yet exist. We are constantly in the presence of all truth.

  “But we must hurry because your physical body can only withstand the separation from its spirit form for a short while before it shuts down, annihilating its unification. And then you’ll really be dead.” He stared compassionately at the lifeless form resting on the bed. “But it’s your choice. You can go back to your life and stay in darkness, or you can choose to have knowledge, to be awakened to the truth.”

  I beheld the wisdom in his eyes, realizing that my comprehension was limited. Life was short and complex, and this temporal separation—inconceivable as it seemed—bore a great weight. I was terrified to walk away from my mortal body into the unknown. But the immediate return to mortality to face Alex’s cruel deeds, and the fact that I couldn’t stop loving him, was even less appealing. I couldn’t return to the reality that I knew; I would be on the verge of madness if I did.

  “I want to know.” I glanced at the still body on the bed. “I’ll come with you.”

  “You have chosen the right path.” He looked at me, his brown eyes brimming with an incomprehensible love. The light of hope rose in my soul, instantly dissipating all the vengeful ideas I had previously entertained.

  Led by the guide’s light, we emerged from the staircase into what should’ve been the top of the tower. But instead, we were in an open green field. There was a smell of freshness in the air like the dawn of a sunny morning after a violent storm. The scenery was still, unreal, like a painting from a museum, or more so like my own drawings.

  “Where are we?”

  “The New Forest,” he answered, holding my arm.

  The scenery instantly changed. Now we were on the edge of an impressive property. Its vast manor stood majestically in the distance, surrounded by tall trees. There were many gardens scattered across the grounds, housing all kinds of beautiful shrubs, flowers, water fountains, and many large stone statues—carefully carved to represent angelic beings, humans, and animals. We neared the manor and the imposing pair of stone lions guarding its front doors called for my attention. On the wall, directly behind one of the animals at eye level, the words Forte Radici had been inscribed on the stone.

  “I leave you here until is time for you to go back,” said my guide.

  “Wait—you can’t leave me here!” I protested in panic. “I don’t even know how to function in my present form. I will be lost.”

  “Don’t be afraid. You won’t be intruding, nobody can see or hear you.”

  His words didn’t necessarily encourage me. How would I ask questions or interact? How would I get him to come back?

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!” I hoped the anxiety in my voice would persuade him to stay.

  “Don’t worry. All you have to do is find yourself.” He pointed towards the uninviting double wooden doors.

  “Find me?” I shook my head in distress. “What does that mean?”

  “Trust your instincts. Don’t waste time. I’ll come back for you.”

  I examined the doors, wondering what I would find on the other side. I already knew that I was now alone, but turned around all the same—my guide had vanished.

  Only one thing was absolutely clear; I would be stuck in this space in time until I had fulfilled my purpose—trapped with the daunting warning that I was short on time if I wanted to safely return to my mortal body.

  I reached for the large brass door handle, marveling at its beauty. When my hand went right through it and into the other side of the solid doors, I smiled. I understood now what it meant for my spirit form not to be subject to the mortal sphere which I was traveling in. Its consistency had no effect on me. I went right through the door into the manor.

  I observed in awe the immense area where I stood and wondered how far back in time we had traveled. Now more than ever the time and place that must have been part of Alex’s past struck me. It was so different, so far removed from my little world back in Geneva.

  Sunshine freely penetrated through the many windows and reflected the most beautiful golden colors off the marble floors of the entry hall.

  Straight ahead, my eyes found the majestic staircase, well defined by the rich dark wood colors of its banister. Its wide base led up to a square landing, which in turn was the base to two arm staircases that continued upward to each side of the gigantic second floor hall.

  No less impressive was the artwork hanging on the towering walls and the stunning hand-painted images on the ceilings. Where—when had I seen all of this?

  “Don’t waste time,” the urgent warning from my guide echoed in my mind, but I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  My curiosity prompted my next move. I moved as if floating on the air, along the left side of the staircase to follow a long corridor. A set of double doors, intricately carved with designs of flowers, attracted my curiosity prompting me to halt.

  I passed right through the door to the other side. A spacious, well-furnished kitchen welcomed me. There were two immense fireplaces, facing each other from across the side walls, accompanied by massive cupboards to cover every inch of space. A single door sat in the back wall, guarded on each side by square windows.

  Through the clear windowpanes meticulously kept gardens caught my attention. So distracted had I become that when the back door opened to let a slender young woman in, I panicked, forgetting for a moment that I was invisible.

  Finely dressed in a long red dress, she held herself with a manner of refinement. Her honey hair waved softly down to her waist, complementing her delicate facial features. She sat down on one of the chairs at the work table, an envelope in her hands. To my relief, she seemed oblivious to my presence.

  Anxiously, she ripped the envelope open and extracted the paper. Her face lit up as she gazed at it. My instincts urged me to read the letter. Prudence urged me to be careful, to not upset the natural elements separating us. Proceeding with extreme caution, I positioned myself behind her chair and read over her shoulder.

  April 2nd, 1915

  My dearest Florence,

  I’m happy to inform you that an opportunity to come home sooner than expected has presented itself. I hope to see you in a matter of days.

  I’m the luckiest man alive to have you as my daughter and can’t wait to see your beautiful smile again. I trust that Mrs. Allerton is taking good care of you.

  Love, your father, General Marcus Contini.

  P.S. Lieutenant General Alexander Sterling will be accompanying me. Please have Mrs. Allerton fix one of the upper rooms for him.

  I closed my eyes tightly, hoping that when I opened them I would wake up—this had to be a dream! Yet things were more real than they had ever been; my senses sharper, clear, alert—I had never felt more alive.

  The daughter of General Marcus Contini hadn’t been separated from him at birth, and more so, he had lived to
raise her. A little shimmering coming from her wrist caught my attention. Her bracelet! My bracelet! It had my name on it. I looked at my own wrist to compare my intangible bracelet to hers. The only visible difference—hers had not yet been corrupted by time. Driven by curiosity and confusion, I inspected her features closely. I was shocked to realize that she was a mirror image of me. Except for the longer length and style of her hair, we were identical.

  Little by little, the pieces of the real puzzle of my existence were turning into a past long forgotten. Hers or my past, it didn’t matter, for we were one—the exact same person.

  How or why I didn’t know. But one thing was clear: somehow, I had lived before…somehow, I was back in time to remember it all.

  She started to rise from the chair; I was pulled toward her. My intangible form flowed into her body. Suddenly, our minds became one as the thick veil clouding my memories was removed, allowing me to remember twenty-one years ago…

  14

  ~ Back in Time ~

  The New Forest, Hampshire, England, 1915

  My father was coming home. I folded the letter and hurried out of the kitchen in search of Mrs. Allerton. The manor seemed immense whenever I needed to find something or someone.

  The good news infused me with a vitality I had almost forgotten I could feel. Amidst the great suffering that the world was experiencing, it was only natural to be distressed—especially when my father, General Marcus Contini, was at the head of the British army.

  In August of last year, Britain had entered the Great War, honoring its treaty to protect Belgium after Germany marched into their land. Germany had just launched a new savage way of warfare—directed at killing civilians. Two German zeppelins had dropped bombs on the eastern coast of England, spreading horror throughout the peaceful region. And with Britain’s recent announcement of a blockade of German ports, the chaos reached the point of no return.

  I spent my days at our manor, Forte Radici, in Breamore, the region of the New Forest far from the destruction, but still suffered its consequences. The only family I had left—my father—was never home.

  In the year 1894, after giving birth to my twin brother Lucca and me, my mother passed away. With the help of our housekeeper, Mary Allerton, my father had raised us.

  Lucca and I had been like two sides of a coin. More than a brother, he was my best friend—my protector, my guiding light. To my deep sorrow, a few years earlier, Lucca made a decision which claimed his life—he followed in our father’s footsteps and chose to pursue a military career. Less than a year later, his small troop was ambushed and killed on a scouting mission. His premature departure left me feeling like a kite without a string, lost in the sky. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror without seeing Lucca’s reflection—delicate face, large brown eyes, and the exact same smile.

  Mrs. Allerton had been my guardian angel during those dark days. Without her love, I would have been consumed in the depths of despair. Yet life went on, and I had learned to move on as well, never forgetting but always hoping for a brighter future.

  Calling for Mrs. Allerton, I ran up and down the staircase, through the corridors, and opened almost every door in the house, before I finally caught sight of her through one of the library windows. Her white hair was tied into a bun on the back of her head, and her spectacles shone in the sunlight, making her impossible to miss. She was vigorously expressing herself, with both words and gestures, giving instructions to the gardener, Ames Leroy, a short French fellow that had worked for our family since I could remember. He had threatened many times to leave Forte Radici because of Mrs. Allerton’s obsessive ideas about how he should do his job. He argued that the garden was his chef d’oeuvre so all decisions regarding the grounds should be left to him. “Maybe they fight because they like each other,” Lucca once suggested.

  I tried tapping on the glass to catch her attention, but to no avail, so I went out through the french doors.

  The warmth of the spring day gave me a sense of anticipation—my immediate future would be exhilarating.

  “You should trim it back, thin it out,” Mrs. Allerton insisted, referring to the beautiful green vines that eagerly climbed the manor’s walls.

  “They give shade and beauty to the walls. I’m not going to cut them down! It took years to grow them!” Mr. Leroy retorted, his indignation making his accent heavier than usual.

  “All they do is house spiders,” she snapped.

  “I’ll treat them for insects and spiders,” he snapped back.

  “Trim it back—for goodness’ sake, Mr. Leroy!” Mrs. Allerton commanded, placing her hands on her hips in an imposing manner.

  “Femme folles!” he muttered in French.

  I cleared my throat in an attempt to get their attention. Mrs. Allerton glanced at me and waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal, as if saying, “Not now.”

  “My father is coming home!” I shouted over their loud voices. Mr. Leroy turned to face me, leaving Mrs. Allerton with no choice but to do the same.

  “Mademoiselle,” said Mr. Leroy, politely elevating his cap a few inches off his head, showing his grey hair for a brief moment.

  “Good morning, Mr. Leroy, Mrs. Allerton.” Now that I had their attention, I repeated my good news. “My father is coming home—this came in the morning post.” Mrs. Allerton took the letter from me and scanned it hastily.

  “Oh my—it’s true. General Contini is coming home.” Her voice filled with delight. “We must get ready for his arrival.”

  Mr. Leroy saw his chance to get the pruners away from the vines. “I’ll start working on the front gardens. Good day.” He hurried away before Mrs. Allerton could object.

  Taking the letter back from Mrs. Allerton, I headed toward the manor. She rushed to catch up with me. “Florence, wait! Did he say he’s bringing company?”

  “Umm…yes, the lieutenant general—one of his dusty old comrades,” I answered carelessly. After all, it was my father’s routine to be accompanied by a group of soldiers on all his travels. But sometimes I wished I could have him to myself for a bit. Instead, he was sure to spend his entire visit holed up, pouring over maps, and talking stratagems with his men.

  “Let me see the letter again,” she asked, a little out of breath. “Yes, oh, yes—Lieutenant General Sterling—I have heard of him before. Isn’t he the second in command?”

  “I suppose he is—great, just great,” I hissed. “One more old owl coming our way.” The exasperation I was feeling expressed itself with a sigh. I would have to be polite—a quality I didn’t excel at—and be on time for all meals.

  Mrs. Allerton confirmed my thoughts. “Florence, you must be on your best behavior. I expect nothing less from you.”

  “I know—I know,” I answered, but she was already on to the next topic.

  “We must air out the rooms and dust all the furniture.” She took pride in taking care of the manor. The place would be completely cleaned from top to bottom—spotless.

  “Oh, please, Mrs. Allerton. Don’t you think you are exaggerating a little?”

  “Nonsense! There is much to do.” She hurried past me; her walk almost turning into a trot.

  “You are going to dig a trench in the floor if you don’t stop pacing,” I finally said to Mrs. Allerton.

  “I know I’m forgetting something!” she exclaimed as if I hadn’t said anything.

  “You worry too much. All that father cares about is to find us safe.” She wasn’t listening. I left her in the kitchen with her unrest and took myself for a walk in the garden.

  Along with the setting sun, my hopes of seeing my father today started to wane until Mr. Leroy, who was pushing a wheelbarrow across the path, eagerly exclaimed, “Mademoiselle Contini, look!” He signaled towards the west. There were two military trucks heading our way.

  “It’s my father! He’s home!” I shouted. Before I had time to process reality, my legs were already racing out of the gardens. I desperately wanted to be in the security of
his arms, to hear his voice—I had missed him so much.

  The dirt road seemed so far away, unreachable. Once I left the manor’s grounds and entered the fields, my father caught sight of me. The truck slowed down enough for him to jump out. He started through the fields towards me. Soon after, a soldier followed him.

  My feet seemed to fly through the lush green fields. As I ran towards him, a sudden surge of thoughts crossed my mind.

  The distance between us rapidly diminished, and suddenly I was in his arms, and it felt like I was the one coming home. I closed my eyes and reveled in the scent of tobacco and fresh air that always accompanied him, in the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, in the happy rumble of his laughter.

  “Oh, Father, I have missed you so much.”

  “My precious daughter. My dear Florence, I’m so happy to see you.” He squeezed me tighter against his chest.

  “I can’t believe you are home.” I looked at him, relieved to see that he was still the same—all of his body limbs still attached. Even his thick, brown mustache was intact, making his face look as square and stern as always. In the army, he was famous for his strict leadership and discipline, but even more famous for his distinct mustache.

  “It’s wonderful to be home.” Longing rang in his voice, his gaze fixed on the manor in the distance. “Yes, I’m home, and hopefully I can stay for a while.”

  “I hope so too,” I said and kissed his cheek.

  The soldier that had trailed behind my father reached us now. My father softly pressed his hand on my back, propelling me forward. “Florence, this is Lieutenant General Alexander Sterling.” In the peacefulness of the green fields, under the soft, diffused light from the sky, I saw Alexander Sterling for the first time.

  This is Lieutenant General Sterling? The shocking difference between what I had imagined and his actual appearance froze me in place—he was young, very young. I looked up into his eyes and found myself lost in a twirl of physical and emotional feelings I had never encountered before. I had never seen a man so…I tried to avoid the word, but it came to mind all the same…so beautiful. No man had the right to be so handsome; it was a mock to women’s self-control.