Sing A Twist

by Brooke T. Mays

  With relief, her father agreed to wake her later. As she lay down in the bed of her childhood bedroom, she could tell that sleep was not going to come. She could practically hear the seconds ticking away. In her other life, those same seconds had probably roared by and were long gone. The only thought that calmed her was that if the danger was truly directed at her, she may have actually helped her roommates by going away. With her gone, hopefully the threat was gone, too. She listened as her parents quietly left the house. Thank goodness they decided to go somewhere private. They were planning on ‘reconnecting’ with each other. They loved each other, after all. Elena was certain that they had shared this burden, this fear for her, together. She certainly did not blame them for wanting some private time together right now, but she was very much relieved they would not be ‘reconnecting’ where she could not Sense it. In the end, surprisingly, sleep did come. It was full of dreams of Phillip.

  She awoke to find her father standing over her. She blushed. She hoped with every fiber in her being that she had not been talking in her sleep. The dreams had been good ones. Very good ones. She didn’t know how she had dreams like that at a time like this, but she did know that she wanted to keep those dreams to herself.

  “Have you rested enough, Elena? I did not want you to sleep too long.” His voice wound around her and through the room. He was worried, very much so, she Sensed, but his voice was still beautiful, achingly so at the moment. She wondered if something had happened while she slept. She assured her father she was ready to wake again and promised to be out to talk after she freshened up. Elena headed to the bathroom. She heard her father’s voice singing as he moved through the house. It was so like Phillip she felt a stab of pain around her heart. The resonance was also so strong right now, reminding her of her need to move forward. She hoped with all her heart that she had her life, the beautiful life she had made, to return to. Otherwise, she would have nothing. She couldn’t stay here. She found her parents in the living room this time. They were deep in conversation.

  “But I thought that surely, after what I could See. . . Are you certain, my love?” her mother’s voice was full of pain. “I thought that perhaps, now, things would have changed.”

  “You have known for some time, dear heart. You are the one who has always helped me to accept it,” her father said as he placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. She was seated, and he was standing above her. Her father’s back was to her. He was blocking her mother’s face, but Elena could Sense the loss from across the room. “This also explains your earlier Vision. It was indeed important for this young man to place Elena’s necklace.”

  “You are right. More than anyone, I should know better. After feeling like we have her back,” her voice grew so quiet. “I feel we have saved her, only to lose her once more.”

  Elena stepped in to the room. This had gone on long enough. She needed to know what was going on.

  “Please. No evasions. I Sense your fear and sadness. Though I receive a message essentially telling me to go home, the resonance in me is stronger than ever. Even travelling here was different than any other time before. So different that at first I feared something was wrong with you, dad. But your fear is for me. Your sadness is focused around me. Tell me. Why?” Elena’s voice was strong. Surprisingly, she felt strong. Perhaps it was her parent’s fear that made her brave, but for some reason since she woke, she had felt more confident since the moment she left the bar. She looked at her mother. Her mother, whom she was now Sensing deceit from, evasion. “You taught me that what you See is important. That you may not know why or how it is important, not immediately. Mother, I do not believe this Vision was only about saving me. There is more to it, isn’t there? Tell me, please. Work with me to help me put these pieces together,” she pleaded with her eyes and she Projected, strongly. It was a mixture of faith, resolve, trust, and hope. Elena believed that with their help this situation, whatever it was, could not only be face, but overcome. She believed, and without the least bit of guilt, she Projected it.

  Fear and sadness did not abate, but now pride overshadowed it, as well as a myriad of other emotions. “You have grown and changed so much, my bright light. So strong and independent. A mother should be careful of what she wishes for, I suppose. You have certainly grown in strength. You hardly appear spent after you Projected.” If she was hoping to find a chastised expression on Elena’s face, she would be disappointed. She looked to her husband suggesting, “Perhaps you should start. Your part may be the easiest to explain.”

  Her father nodded his head, but instead of giving an answer he started with a question, “How was it different travelling here this time? Precisely?”

  Even though Elena felt she was exhibiting the patience of a saint, she explained about the pain she had felt, and even that, at first, when she stepped to the Twist, nothing happened. Her father maintained the connection that provided access to the Twist. “So of course, I was worried something was wrong with you. Perhaps you were sick, or worse,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Now, why are you so reluctant to explain this to me?” For a moment Elena marveled at how her father was able to stay still. If she felt what she was Sensing from him, she would have been fidgeting and unable to make eye contact. He was so uncomfortable.

  “Well, it feels . . . as if I am intruding,” now he did fidget.

  “This certainly explains the Vision I had regarding Elena’s birth date. The one that stressed the importance of this young man, Phillip, placing the necklace on Elena,” her mother added to her father. One question answered. That only left a million more. Which was good because they helped bury the thought she was having that somehow her mother was responsible for her first kiss with Phillip.

  Elena wanted to scream, ‘What are you two saying?’ but somehow kept quiet long enough for her father to find the words he was searching for.

  On an exhale he said, “Elena, another’s Song now Sings in you.” Elena was reeling. She had hoped that Phillip had written his song for her. Had wanted him to give it to her, but he hadn’t, not that she remembered, and how could she have forgotten something like that?

  “But he never gave me the song,” she protested. “I wanted him to, hoped he would. You always said that a Song had to be given. How would he even know that? I am certain he has not had training,” Elena finished just as she sat down. Though she remained silent, Elena Sensed impatience from her mother. After all, this was the Bard’s area of expertise. Apparently she wanted him to get on with it.

  “Well, I am certain that he must have. If you think back, perhaps you will recall. The words do not have to be formal. Perhaps this gentleman said something in a moment of,” her father’s melodious voice was for once frazzled, “well, passion.” It even squeaked at the last.

  Now she thought she understood his reluctance, quite clearly actually. She needed answers though, and Phillip had not given her the song in a . . . moment of passion. She was shaking her head and continued to do so, hoping he would understand that’s what she meant. She really didn’t want to say that out loud.

  He cleared his throat. “He had to have said the words, Elena. It could have been as simple as ‘hear my song, Elena’ if his intent was true,” his voice was once again gentle and melodic. She relaxed into the rhythm as he continued, “Perhaps in a moment of strife. You said he was with you when the police were questioning you? Perhaps then, when you were distracted by the horror of what became of the young man Evenfall. It would have been at some time when you needed comforting or reassurance. When you needed him.”

  And then she knew. Or at least thought she did. A half-remembered moment. If it was possible?

  Her father continued, “Afterword, you would be able to hear his song. Softly, at first, and slowly it would build and become stronger.” He stopped talking then, looking intently at her face. “So you remember now?” he asked.

  “Maybe. Could it have been during a nightmare?” she hoped her father’s answer would be short and that no f
urther questions were needed. He only nodded his head, for which she was grateful. She really didn’t want her father contemplating why Phillip was there to comfort her in the middle of the night. Well, she Sensed he drew the correct conclusions. She was grateful he wanted to avoid discussing any details as much as she did. “When I walked in earlier, dad, you were saying something about mom helping you to accept it. That is what you mean by the Song, dad? That I would belong to another Twist? Is that something that you have Seen, mom?” Elena didn’t pause long enough for them to answer before adding, “But that doesn’t make sense. Phillip doesn’t belong to a Twist. And he wrote that song only recently. It has no ties to another Twist. I don’t understand.”

  It was her mother who answered, “I have Seen you leaving our Twist. I have known for some time that your place, your future, was not here,” she spoke once again with tears in her eyes. “I did not expect it to come so soon. I have not, however, seen you specifically belonging to another Twist.” Now she looked questioningly at Elena’s father. “So it shouldn’t mean that travel here. . .” she trailed off as he shook his head no.

  “We, of course, looked into your roommate before he moved in with you, as we do with all potential roommates. We should have discovered that he resided in a Twist. You are certain, Elena, that he does not?” He waited for her to shake her head. Phillip had some ideas that were perhaps not in the norm, particularly where it pertained to music, but he would have recognized an Object of Power. He would not have tried to take her necklace off. She Sensed some confusion. Her father sighed and seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. Affectionately, consolingly, trailing his hand down his wife’s arm he stated, “It does not matter whether or not he belongs to another a Twist. His Song is strong enough in Elena that soon she will not be able to travel here without an escort. Soon, to the Twist, were she to attempt to enter it alone, it will be as if she belongs to another. It will not recognize her, and will not open for her.”

  Elena blinked back tears and felt like a little girl. This was a scenario that she had actually never considered. She knew, because of the resonance, that she would not spend the bulk of her life here inside the Twist. But she always thought she could return to it whenever she needed it. Her father was saying that soon someone would have to go with her, both in and out. That she would not be able to go home whenever she chose. To have that option, that safety net of home taken away from her, was beyond frightening. Arrangements for travel could be made, of course. Someone could be made available to escort her, but it would take time to set up. If there was some reason that she needed to get home quickly. . . well, she just wouldn’t be able to. Her parents visiting her outside the Twist would remain a scarce occurrence. Her father could leave the Twist for a few days only, but then he would have to return to renew the connection. Even for short trips, he couldn’t leave too often. It weakened the connection, and it could become unstable. Twists had been lost in the past. There were plenty of legends of explorers searching for lost cities to remind them of that part of their history. Not for the first time, or the last she was sure, Elena wished that modern methods of communication were able to cross into the Twist. Face time, a phone call, even email would make being separated from her parents so much easier. The house was quiet as they were all deep in thought over the consequences of her father’s discovery. So quiet that Elena was sure even her parents could hear the resonance echoing.

  “You know you both have all my love, no matter how far away I may be,” Elena said as she swallowed hard. “I would love nothing more than to take a picnic out to the pond with you like we did so often when I was a child, but you both taught me to trust in my instincts. Right now, my instincts are telling me to get answers to these questions. We need to discuss your Vision, mom. Surely, it is not as simple as I needed to come home to get away from something dangerous?”

  “Getting away from something dangerous?” Elena didn’t need to be an Empath to know that she had seriously pissed her mother off. “That is not just an oversimplification. That is certainly a gross trivialization, but I will overlook that fact since, indeed, you are correct. The timing of the Vision, the echoing that I felt of it, suggests that it did not apply to only one situation,” she appeared to be searching for words. “I could not See what Spring’s hue meant. I was not thinking as an Empath. This Vision was meant for you. So perhaps it was in terms that would be meaningful to you. I believe this color that you see, or rather whoever is associated with it, has crossed your path multiple times?”

  Elena interrupted, “She. It’s a her, I think. I only felt that the very first time. But I think that’s because the first time was the only time I was ever in close proximity to her. At least when she was feeling . . . sickly green.” Her mother tipped her head slightly in acknowledgment. She trusted Elena, and it made her smile despite the situation they were facing. It also reminded Elena that a female’s blood was found at the scene of Evenfall’s death, but she didn’t get a chance to voice that fact.

  Now her father spoke up, “Are you really not able to identify the emotion? Wouldn’t that be helpful to you if you could interpret it? Embrace the emotion, and examine it from all sides.” He was thinking like a teacher and a Bard. She had heard him lecture enough students to recognize his thought process. For him, music flowed through everything, all of life. Anyone could see the rose bushes were beautiful. But stop and really look at it. Find the perfection in the buds, the leaves, the full open flowers, even the thorns, he would say. See the symphony the bush creates. Elena had observed her father using this example with many pupils. She had been present when some made the discovery her father was hoping for. She supposed they literally saw the music. To Elena, they always turned a silvery-blue when that happened. She associated that color with wonder and enlightenment. Her father was suggesting she try this method. But the thought of . . . absorbing. . . that emotion, taking it inside her to examine it. . . Elena was shaking her head in denial. She was certain if she did that, it would cling to her, become a part of her. It would consume her from the inside out like cancer.

  Still shaking her head, she answered him, “That way leads to sickness, madness. It would destroy me. I think that is what it has done to her. I would like to say that jealousy is at the root of this feeling she has, but it is so much more than that. It is as if the world has conspired against her, and she wants nothing more than to strike back. Only it’s not a new feeling, not a fresh wound. It’s more like a twisted thought she has had over the years that she takes out and fondles and nurtures so that it grows and evolves.” Elena struggled to explain it while keeping herself from being affected by it. “It is like jealously, rolled up with vengeance, and a sense of entitlement. The world owes her something.” Elena was reminded of the thought she had the first time the walls of the bar had bled that color. If she acted on that emotion, someone would get hurt, she had thought. Well, someone had. Evenfall had died. Something her mother said was prickling the back of her mind. “Mom, can you explain what you mean by the timing of the Vision? How did the Vision change over time?” Elena was frustrated for a moment. They each saw the world so differently. At times, it was as if they were speaking different languages. Another individual with Sight would probably just get what her mother was trying to explain, just as an Empath would know what Elena meant. For that matter, Phillip and her father would probably play some music and think they explained everything perfectly.

  Her mother continued, “I will try to explain it, though you know we can not hope to match up the timing of each Vision with the actual time of events outside.” Sometimes comparing life outside the Twist to life inside gave Elena a headache. Her mother continued, “The first time I had the Vision, it felt as if it had a connection to you, but was not centered on you. I felt your danger, that is true, but I felt a letter was sufficient to warn you.” She stopped and took a deep breath. Elena could feel her apprehension. This was going to hurt her mother, and part of her wanted to stop it now. Elena hate
d putting her through this. But they had to move forward. They couldn’t stop.

  Elena was distracted as the resonance pushed uncomfortably against her. It actually hurt. At the same time, she saw her parents gazing into each other’s eyes. Gold flowed between them. With a painful realization, Elena knew that her mother was hearing her father’s Song. The Bard was supporting his love with his Song. It was the same as when she could hear Phillip’s Song.

  Her mother’s courage seemed to be renewed, and she continued. “When the Vision began repeating, echoing, it seemed to be moving ever closer to you. Still, it did not feel as if it was directed at you, just more as if you would be affected by it. I asked Aiden to reiterate the warning. To let you know it echoed.”

  “And what does an echo imply?” Elena asked.

  “Multiple times. The echo means there would be multiple occurrences that you should respond to,” her mother stated factually, yet apologetically. She must have thought Elena would know that.

  Elena thought over what she had heard while her mother continued to speak about the changes in the Vision. It gave her a sickening feeling. She was almost certain she had been meant to save Evenfall. How many times had he called her? That first time, she remembered, was right after the fight with Phillip. She had been wearing her bracelet. What had she missed because she had used the tool to help block out emotions? What might she have learned if she hadn’t been wearing it? Would it have made a difference? Could she have saved him? Elena realized that her mother had stopped talking. When she looked up, her mother asked gently, “What is it, my bright light?”