Finding Eden

by Camilla Beavers

  Barely arriving on time, I set up near the back but make sure no one’s fat head is going to get in my way. The lights dim down sooner than I expect them too and soon the recital hall is filled with beautiful music.

  I've always enjoyed listening to Evaughn play, but for some reason I can't concentrate. Usually I'm a great listener, especially with more contemporary, classical music, but for some reason I am becoming sleeping. Not the I'm-going-to-fall-asleep sleepy, more like the I-only-got-four-hours-of-sleep-and-it's-five-in-the-morning sleepy. I feel like I'm half glazed over and I feel rather ashamed. Then, before I know it, the recital has ended.

  “How did I do?” Evaughn runs up to me.

  “You did great!” I exclaim, putting a huge smile on my face. I can't tell her I couldn't pay attention.

  “Really?”

  “Oh my god,” I roll my eyes, “you know you're great so stop fishing for compliments you huge girl.”

  She rolls her eyes but her smile doesn't leave her face.

  “You were able to record all of it, right?”

  “Yep,” I held up the recorder and shook it a little, “You remember how to use it right?”

  “I'm not stupid.”

  “Wasn't calling you stupid, stupid.” I give her a teasing wink so she knows I'm joking, “You hooked up that DVD player I got you, right?”

  “Yep, piece of cake.”

  “Good,” I say and stifle a yawn, “anyway, not to end the night short, but I'm kind of tired.”

  I hand the recorder over and Evaughn takes it and gives me a concerned look.

  “Did you sleep alright last night?” She asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say, shrugging, “I think I may be coming down with a cold or something. Anyway, you know how to use it, so just get it back to me whenever, alright?”

  “Okay,” She says and waves good-bye to me as I walk away and wave back.

  I walk out into the parking lot and get into my car. I don't know where the day went, but it feels like I've been drained of all my energy. I drive home and let my mind wander. I try to figure out why I'm so tired and I hope it's not mono. I don't know what I would do if I got mono, especially since I don't have a boyfriend and have never been kissed. Even though you can get mono just from sharing a drink, it's still embarrassing having “the kissing disease” without having ever been kissed.

  Pulling into the driveway, I feel so tired I'm not sure if I can make it in the door. I climb out of the car and trudge up the drive way and into the house. I walk up the stairs, into my room where I collapse on my bed and don't get up. I want to sleep, but in my day clothes I know that's impossible.

  My night clothes sit on the edge of the bed. I change real quick and lay back down. I feel tired but I can't sleep.

  “You just have to relax,” I say to myself and take a deep breath, “just relax.”

  I picture myself walking in a forest. My breathing is slow and the stars are nice and bright in the deep blue-black sky. As I walk through the trees, my outstretched fingers brush against the pines. I can feel the blades of grass on my bare feet as I walk silently through the tranquil forest. As I walk through the trees I can feel myself slipping deeper into sleep and out of consciousness.

  Suddenly the dream shifts and I'm no longer alone in the forest. I hear voices and I decide to investigate. It is my dream after all.

  The voices sound like a gurgling stream at first. I can't make out what is being said, but I can hear and make out two distinct voices. The closer I get the better I can hear them. Soon I'm standing near them, overlooking the people talking, and I can hear everything they say.

  I'm standing above three men who are standing around a fire. I'm looking down at them through some branches, and even though it is my dream, I feel like I'm a peeping tom intruding on something private.

  “Do you know where she is?” One of the men asks. The younger one, perhaps.

  “We only know she is in California living a human life,” the other two men speak in unison. They're twins.

  “Will I really know it's her?”

  “Sahariel,” one of the twins steps around the fire and puts a hand on his shoulder, “don't worry, I'm sure you'll recognize her when you see her again”

  “But beware; she might not accept what you tell her,” the other twin says quietly as he stares into the fire, “neither of you were raised around your own kind, but unlike her, you know what you are. This information is going to be hard for her to process. You need to stay with her”

  “She wasn't easy to find either,” the man says.

  “What do you mean?” Sahariel asks.

  “It's like she's untraceable,” the man near Sahariel says, “like her mother, but more so.”

  “We had to use magic to amplify her inner energy, and unfortunately we have no idea how she reacted to that.”

  “What the hell are they talking about?” I whisper.

  I try to get closer. My dream has taken an extremely odd turn and since this is my dream I was going to find out why.

  Taking a few steps forward, I try to not take my eyes off the three men. I don't want them to disappear. Then as I'm about to open my mouth to shout at the three men, a sudden noise ripples through the silence.

  I glance down. I've stepped on a twig. I look up at the men and I almost scream.

  Sahariel has a sword out and is coming toward me; he is cloaked in evil, menacing dark colors. They're swirling madly around him and I don't have to look at his face to know he is out to kill me.

  I scream; or at least I try. I feel like there is no air in my lungs, no matter how many panic drawn breaths I take.

  This doesn't feel like a dream anymore. The air is too dry and it feels like it's pulsing with its own angry, malicious intentions. I don't like it, and I feel like the only emotion I can feel as I turn around to run away is an uninhibited, strangling fear.

  I try not to stumble, trip or fall down, but I am unsuccessful. It feels like the trees are somehow conspiring against me, trying to keep me in the awful place longer than I want to.

  “Eden!” Sahariel shouts my name, but I can't tell how close he is to me and I'm not turning around to find out.

  He shouts my name again, but it's muffled by the trees. The forest around me begins to echo his call, turning into an omniscient, ambiguous voice.

  “Eden... Eden... Eden...” the forest whispers my name intimately into my ear and I shudder.

  I fall to the ground and cover my ears as the whisper quickly turns from a gentle sound caressing my thoughts to a voice so loud it's hammering into my brain. Then I begin to shake.

  Tremors and quakes wrack my body and I can't stop them. It feels like someone has taken a hold of my body and it's thrashing it about. I close my eyes as tight as I can and hope it all stops soon.

  Chapter Two

  “Eden!” someone shouts. A familiar someone.

  My eyes fly open. It's Marcia.

  “You can stop shaking me now,” I say, each of my words punctuated with a shake.

  Finally she stops and has an extremely relieved look on her face.

  “Dear lord, girl,” she puts a hand over her heart, “you almost gave me a heart attack. I've been sitting' here for five minutes trying to wake you up. Are you okay? How’s your heart?”

  She takes a long look at my face to make sure I'm alright.

  “It's fine,” I say, “it must have been a bad dream. I really don't remember.”

  All I had managed to remember were blurry trees and a stifling fear.

  Marcia gives me a quick once over to be sure I'm telling the truth. Then she takes a deep breath and smiles.

  “Okay,” she gets up from the edge of the bed, “I'm going grocery shopping. Is there anything specific you'd like?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod.

  “Well, if you change your mind, just give me a call on my cell phone, alright?”

  “Okay,” I smile.


  She reaches over and ruffles my hair with her hand and I swat her away and roll my eyes. She walks out of the room, waves good-bye and closes the door.

  The sun is shining bright outside and the clock reads 12:34. How did I manage to sleep so late?

  I yawn and stretch, hearing my bones pop into life. I don't know why I feel so tired. It's like my energy got sucked out of me without my knowledge or consent. I had the flu once when I was younger. That sucked, but at least my body doesn't ache like it did then.

  I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. I pull open the door, grab a bottle of water and take my heart medicine. Flopping down on the couch, I turn the television on and watch without thinking. Seconds go by and the door opens and Marcia walks in.

  “Did you forget something?” I ask her.

  “No, why do you ask?” She gives me a confused look.

  “Because you've only been gone for a few minutes?”

  “No,” she drags the word out, “I've been gone for at least a few hours.”

  She gives me a worried look and I know she's about ready to call the doctor and have him come out and give me a checkup.

  “Are you feeling okay?” She asks me in a concerned tone.

  I frown at the television. Where did two hours go?

  “Yeah,” I give her a small smile, “I'm fine. I must have just zoned out there for bit. Seriously, don't worry about me. I took my pills. Now stop giving me that look and down worry about me.”

  She sighs and gives up trying to be worried about me. She knows not to push me too hard, because if I was sick, then I wouldn't want to see the doctor just in spite. I return to watching television as Marcia puts away the groceries.

  Marcia's shuffling around noises mix with the sound of the television, both of which I'm not really paying attention to. The noises converge into some sort of white noise that I can hear but don't listen to. Pots and pans bang together, Marcia is saying something, and then all of the sudden dinner is done after what feels like only ten minutes.

  “What is it?” I ask before I even get up.

  “Didn't you hear me when I first started? I had told you I was going to make chicken enchiladas casserole style, and if you didn't want it for you to tell me.”

  “Oh, sorry. I guess I didn't hear you,” I say, “It must have been the television.”

  “Alright, well,” she shrugs, “dinner is done, so come eat.”

  I get up from the couch, plate my food, and sit down at the table. I'm not sure if I'm hungry or not. I'm also not sure if a whole day has gone by or not. I look at the clock and it tells me it's already eight at night. Where the hell did all my time go today?

  “Marcia,” I look up from my untouched food and see her getting up to take care of her dish already.

  “Hmm?”

  “Have you ever,” I stop and frown, trying to figure out how to word it without sounding crazy, “have you ever felt like you've been losing chunks of time? Like, one minute it will be morning and then the next moment several hours have gone by?”

  “Once,” she says, “when I was younger. I got really sick and I slept a lot. I was in and out for a few days, sleeping all the time. Was really tired. Why? What's up? Are you sure you're feeling okay?”

  “I'm fine. I just don't think I slept too well because of that dream last night. This whole day has just felt like it's gone by too quickly.”

  “That's understandable,” Marcia smiles at me, “why don't you get to bed early tonight and rest up so this doesn't happen tomorrow, alright?”

  “Yeah,” I agree, “sounds like a good plan.”

  I get up from the table, my food untouched. I'm not hungry. I'm mostly just tired and awestruck. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that I've been spacing out this much. It makes no sense. And to top it all off I still can't remember the nightmare.

  When I crawl into bed, I tell myself everything will be better in the morning. Everything will be better with sleep. Every lost bit of time that I don't remember will be given back to me. Or so I hope.

  Chapter Three

  I feel like chunks of time have been stolen from me. I don’t know, or remember, what’s going on half the time, and it's getting ridiculous. For the past week I've been completely out of it. If people were thinking I was on drugs before now, they were surely certain of it now.

  Since that horrible dream, the one I can't remember, my time has just been slipping away from me. Someone will be talking to me and next thing I know two hours have gone by and I'm doing something completely different. I don't like the feeling very much.

  “Hello,” Brock snaps his fingers in front of my face, “Eden, are you there?”

  I snap back to reality, blink a few times, shake my head a little and smile at him.

  “Yeah, I'm here. Sorry,” I say, “I don't know what's wrong. I've just been feeling spacey lately.”

  I trace my scar.

  “Maybe you have a cold or something,” Evaughn says as she puts a potato chip in her mouth.

  “I don't know, maybe,” I shake my head.

  “Maybe you have mono,” Brock says with a shrug.

  “Mono?”

  “Yeah, you know, mononucleosis? The 'kissing disease'?” He makes kissing noises at me.

  “Yes,” I say and roll my eyes, “because we all know I've kissed so many people lately.” I adjust my sunglasses and look out into the crowd.

  “Hey, you never know. Wishful thinking, right? I mean, it's better than what it could be, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, “you have a point.”

  I take a sip of my tea and glance at my watch.

  “Shit,” I grab my purse.

  “What’s up?” Brock looks at me.

  “I'm late.”

  “For?”

  “I told my dad I'd pick him up from the airport. If I don't leave now I'll be late.”

  I walk quickly to my car. I can't believe I forgot! I get in my car and make my way to the airport. I try not to drive too fast, because getting pulled over doesn't really save time.

  The airport, thank god, is not crowded. The good spots are nice and empty and the terminal is close. I go into the airport, pick out a comfortable chair, and I wait.

  First, twenty minutes go by, then forty, and then an hour. After a while I decide to call him. I pull my cellphone out to call him and I'm about to hit send when I see I have a voice mail.

  “Hello, Eden,” I hear dad say in the voice mail, “I hope you get this before you head to the airport, but I had an emergency meeting pop up, so I won't be home for a few more days. I'll let you know when.” And then that's it.

  Great. I drove all the way out to the airport for nothing. I sit there for a second wondering how I could have missed his call. Was that one of my inoperative moments?

  “Miss,” someone says to me.

  I look up. It's a security guard.

  “Are you waiting for someone?”

  “Oh,” I look at my watch and tried not to look surprised at the time, “I was here to pick up dad, but I just found out he won't be making it.” I get my things and stand up.

  “Well, I'm sorry to hear that,” the man says and walks away from me.

  I walk out of the airport and to my car. How had I managed to sit there for two hours after I checked my voice mail? I shake my head and get into my car.

  “If this doesn't let up soon I'm going to have to start setting an alarm clock during the day.”

  I get home and am relieved to find that Marcia isn't there, At least now I don't have to explain my lost hours to anyone. I get out of my car and go inside.

  The house is empty, but it's a godsend at the moment. I clomp up the stairs to my bedroom, change into my night clothes and fall asleep quickly in bed. And I dream. It's not a good or bad dream. It's just a dream about a man, and somehow I know I've seen him before.

  The young man in my dream, all I see is his face. His skin is tan from the sun and stubble riddles his face. His golden brown hair is loose ar
ound his face and his eyes are a pure gold color. The color is so intense that I almost feel this dream man is seeing into my soul. I've never met this man before, but I feel as though I know him. Not the I-know-where-he-grew-up sort of knowing, but sort of a connection.

  I see his face for the entire night. His eyes burn into mine, scorching my soul with their intensity. Then, even when I wake, I can still see his face, blotting out everything else that I see, and in the morning, everything feels... different.

  I wake before the alarm and get ready for school and I don't feel tired. I don't feel spacey; I feel extremely refreshed. As I take my pill, I figure I must have gotten over whatever it was that was ailing me.

  I manage to make it to school not too early. I took the slow, leisurely route and I'm even able to enjoy the morning air.

  Brock walks up to me and smiles a warm smile, “feeling better I take it?”

  “Yup,” I nod, “no more spacing out for me.”

  The morning goes by peacefully and quickly, and thankfully I am able to remember it all. Sooner than I know, the lunch bell rings and I'm on my way to the cafeteria with Brock and Evaughn.

  “Oh, did you hear about the new student?” Evaughn makes small talk as we walk through the hallway, “I heard he's from New Zealand or something.”

  “Want to know what I heard?” We hear students around us talking about the same subject. The new kid.

  “What?”

  “I heard that he's really hot.”

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “Well, no, but it is one of the primary things.”

  “You've such a dirty mind.”

  “Yeah, well not as bad as you.”

  “Whatever.”

  I roll my eyes at the people passing by. Brock catches my eye and makes gagging motions, causing me to burst into laughter as we find a seat in the cafeteria.

  Brock and Evaughn leave to get their food, and when they come back I'm heavily engrossed in people watching.

  Everyone's colors are bright and swirling with excitement. I can tell by the emotions (lust and excitement) that the new kid is about to enter the room.

  Seconds go by and I can feel and see the anticipation. Colors swirl tighter and faster. Murmurs start up and I know he is close. Then, he walks into the room, but no amount of colors or murmurs could have prepared me for what I see next.