by Tom Crockett
“You’re calling ghosts, aren’t you?”
The question surprised Marina and made her think. She did not know why she built the circle. She could not say if she was calling ghosts or not. But Gracie didn’t really seem to need a confirmation.
Marina was about to answer, but some signal that she, once again, could not hear, caught Gracie’s attention.
“Sorry. Gotta go.” She skipped off into the jungle, but turned and called back. “You know, they only come at night.”
“What?” Marina called after her.
“Ghosts,” Gracie shouted. “They only come at night.”
* * *
Later, Marina carried several armloads of firewood to her circle. She hadn’t thought to make a fire in it, but Gracie’s comment about ghosts coming at night gave her the idea.
She found some matches in one of the chests in her cabin and carried one of the little carpets with her back to her circle as the sun began to set.
She lit a fire of dry kindling and fed it pieces of driftwood and some of the cut wood she’d found around the fire pit in back of her cabin. Soon she had a nice crackling fire and she settled herself onto her carpet, cross-legged, to watch it burn.
Mesmerized by the dancing flame, she lost track of time. She had no purpose, no clear idea of what she was doing, only the strong urge to sit in her circle and wait.
When she heard rustling in the leaves, just beyond the range of the fire’s light, she would not have been surprised if it had been a ghost, but when she called out softly, Gracie appeared. She was wearing a long T-shirt that reached to her knees, probably what she slept in, Marina thought.
“I’m sorry,” she said meekly. Even in the firelight Marina could tell Gracie had been crying again.
“Come,” she patted the carpet beside her. But after Gracie had joined her, Marina asked, “What about your parents? Do they know where you are?”
“They had another fight. Mom said she was going to sleep up at the big house, and Dad left after he thought I was asleep. They don’t care about me.”
Marina wanted to swear. She had no children of her own. She knew she had no right to be angry, but she wondered how people could waste something so precious as a child. They don’t deserve you, she wanted to say, but knew it was not her place.
“Have you ever heard the story of Saba the turtle?” she asked instead.
“No.” Gracie answered.
“Well, if you’ll lay your head right here, I’ll tell you of Saba and the story of turtle dreams.” Gracie laid her head in Marina’s lap, and Marina began stroking her hair.
Marina’s mother had told her the tale of Saba when she was a little girl. Her mother used to tell Marina and her sister folk tales that, later in life, Marina came to suspect were not folk tales at all but were inventions of her mother’s. This made them no less magical, and in a way even more special. She hadn’t thought about this particular story in years, but now it came flooding back to her.
“Well, you see Saba was the first turtle. She was one of the Great Mother Spirit’s four magical children, so she was a kind of princess—like you.”
Gracie looked up. “I’m a princess?”
“Of course.”
Gracie seemed pleased with this. “Was the Great Mother Spirit a turtle, too?” Gracie asked.
“No, the Great Mother Spirit had four children and they each took the shape of an animal. Kazah, the eldest took the form of a raven. He was jet black and a beautiful flyer. Shana, the next oldest, took the form of a dolphin. She was smooth and sleek, a fast swimmer, and a great jumper. Nebu became a bear. He was strong and tall and a fierce warrior.”
“Was he like my bear?” It took Marina a moment to remember what Gracie was referring to—the imaginary bear that she had earlier envisioned as her pain.
“Yes, perhaps,” she answered, then continued. “Saba became a turtle, but no one had ever seen a turtle before, and to her brothers and sister she just seemed slow and ungainly, with a hard, dull shell, liable to tip onto her back and be unable to right herself. In addition to their physical forms, for this was before there were ravens and dolphins and bears and turtles, each of the Great Mother Spirit’s children had special talents that made them unique.”
“Like superpowers?”
“Sort of. But the Great Mother Spirit never told her children what those talents were. She wanted them to discover their talents on their own.
“As a child, Saba played with her brothers and sister and she watched as they began to discover their secret gifts. Her brother, Kazah, seemed to know so many things and seemed always hungry for more knowledge. He was very smart, and knew the names of everything and anything. Nebu was strong and brave. There was no tree he could not climb, no creature he was afraid to fight. He was, however, at times overbearing, and Saba would turn to her sister Shana, for comfort. Shana was the caring one, always concerned with the feelings of other and the fairness of their actions.
“The gifts of her sister and her brothers seemed obvious to Saba, but her own secret talent remained a mystery to her. Though she was pretty to look at, her brothers thought her dull-witted and singularly unremarkable. She moved slowly and always seemed to be daydreaming.
“And so her childhood passed and Saba prepared to become a woman, still unsure of her gift. She almost resigned herself to not having any special talent. Perhaps, she thought, her mother had no gifts left for her. Perhaps she had been a mistake, unwanted and unnecessary.
“One day Shana came to her and told her that Sha Feru, the wolf, wished to see them.
“Now Sha Feru was no ordinary wolf. He was a kind of wizard or magician in the form of a wolf. He was also consort and lover to the Great Mother Spirit. They had loved each other once and he was in reality the father of her children, but the two had quarreled ferociously and found it best to live apart.” Gracie looked up at Marina but said nothing. Marina had been reciting the story as it was told to her and hadn’t thought about the parallel with Gracie’s parents when she began to tell it. She wondered if it would upset the child, but Gracie let it pass. “The Great Mother Spirit lived in the sky, and Sha Feru walked the earth. Sometimes he would sing to the Great Mother Spirit. . . .”
“Was the Great Mother Spirit the moon?” Gracie interrupted. She sounded sleepy but still interested.
“Very good, Gracie. Yes. My mother used to tell me that the moon was the Great Mother Spirit and that’s why wolves still howl to the moon.” Gracie giggled.
“Well, anyway, all the Great Mother Spirit’s children gathered at the cave of Sha Feru to hear him speak. Kazah was certain that he could answer any question. Nebu was sure that his strength and courage would see him through any quest, no matter how dangerous. Shana knew that her heart would serve her well. But Saba was unsure of how she could compete in such gifted company.
“When Sha Feru appeared on the singing rock beside his cave he spoke solemnly. ‘You are the children of the Great Mother Spirit. Each of you has a gift, but these gifts are untested. It is time for you to make a great quest. You must go into the world and try your gifts. Come back to this place in one year’s time and we shall see whose gift served them best.’
“Saba wanted to interrupt, to remind Sha Feru that she had no gift she knew of, but he was gone in the blink of an eye.
“Each of them picked a direction and set off. They traveled in the world in their own fashion—by land, by water, and by air. Saba traveled more slowly, but this also gave her more time to see and talk with the creatures she encountered. She crawled through lands of death and strife, saw pain and heard suffering. But she also discovered great joy and beauty. She changed little things as she went. She left marks on stones. She painted deserts, arranged the branches of trees, and placed ponds just to catch the sunlight. Her changes were not large and grand, but she brought magic into the lives of those she met.
“When they all gathered back at the singing rock the following year, Saba thought her brothers and sis
ter much changed. When they spoke of their trials and ordeals she understood why.
“Kazah said, ‘I have shared my great wisdom and knowledge. I have been a master and a teacher. My words have become legends, my legends stories, my stories books. All the creatures of the world come to me for answers and guidance, but the more answers I give, the more questions they ask. It is unending and I am tired.’ Saba noticed that Kazah looked tired. His once-shiny black feathers were dusty and dull and his head hung down. ‘I longed all the time to return home.’
“Shana spoke next and agreed with her brother. ‘I have traveled the world as a healer. I’ve comforted the sick and the dying. I’ve nursed injured and the wounded spirits. I’ve given so much of myself that I fear I am all used up.’ Saba saw that Shana did look haggard, pale, and thin—a mere shadow of what she had once been. She swam with no vigor and never splashed the surface of the water. ‘I too could think of nothing but returning home to rest and renew my strength.’
“ ‘I am also weary,’ Nebu admitted. ‘I’ve fought the good fight, stood for justice and everything fair. I’ve won a hundred battles, but I’ve endured a hundred wounds. I’ve been fearless in the face of the mightiest enemy, but now I face a fear I cannot defeat. I’m afraid of my own dark nature. I think one cannot be a warrior all the time.’ Saba noticed that Nebu’s fur had lost its luster. It was matted in some places, and great hunks of it were missing. He seemed barely able to lift his mighty club. ‘I want nothing now but to sleep in my own bed.’
“When Saba did not speak they turned to her and gasped as one. They had each been consumed in their own tribulations and had not noticed their youngest sister. Now they gathered around her with great shows of pity. For, though she could not see it herself, Saba looked the worst of them all. Her shell was scarred and gouged, stained with dirt and blood, and even chipped in places. They begged her to tell of her journey.
“ ‘Surely you have seen the worst of the world.’ Kazah said.
“ ‘I’ve seen the worst and the best,’ she answered honestly.
“ ‘But your shell is so badly marked,’ Shana said.
“ ‘Only on the outside,’ Saba answered.
“ ‘But did you not long for your home—for a place of rest and safety?’ Nebu asked.
“ ‘I took my home with me. I carried my place of rest and renewal on my back.’ With that Saba drew her head, legs, and tail into her shell and sealed herself within. But still her brothers and sister did not understand. When she peeked her head out again she saw Sha Feru standing on his rock with great blanket over his shoulder. ‘Help me show them what it is like inside my shell,’ she asked the great wizard.
“Sha Feru smiled and cast his blanket over them all. For Kazah, Shana, and Nebu, it was like being drawn into Saba’s shell. All was peaceful and serene and beautiful. Saba had painted maps and murals of her travels on the cavelike walls within her shell. She had collected signs, symbols, and artifacts of her journey. The beauty and joy she had seen was represented, but so was the pain and suffering. Each step of her quest was rendered with truth and passion. It made Kazah bow, Shana weep, and Nebu kneel.
“ ‘Your sister Saba has traveled in the world as each of you has,’ Sha Feru said as he drew back the blanket. The world outside Saba’s shell seemed colder, but, in some way, each felt renewed. ‘Each of you served the world with your gifts. Kazah was a great teacher, Shana a gifted healer, Nebu a brave warrior, and Saba an artist. But Saba has a second gift, and this gift served her as well as it served the world. She has the capacity to walk in balance—to find renewal—to carry her sanctuary with her. You would all do well to learn her secret. For your fiery gifts, as great as they are, will be as nothing if they consume you.
“Saba’s brothers and sister honored her then. They begged the blanket from Sha Feru and laid it over their sister’s shell. The blanket molded to her shape and became hard like her shell, but now her shell was alive with subtle shimmering color, and almost as beautiful on the outside as it had been on the inside. And Saba was happy, for at last she understood her gifts. As evening fell over the world, Sha Feru sang to the Great Mother Spirit of their daughter’s gift and of her coming of age.
“My mother used to tell me that the spirit of Saba was embodied in turtles. Turtles move more slowly, as if time was not something to be used up, and they have hard shells like Saba’s to protect them. And when she would catch me or my sister staring for long moments at nothing in particular, she said we were having turtle dreams.
“Turtle dreams.” Gracie repeated this so softly that Marina could tell she was barely awake.
“Yes, turtle dreams. That means that you’re traveling an interior landscape of dreams and sanctuary—that you’re recharging and reimagining your world,” she leaned close to whisper in Gracie’s ear, “and listening to the words of turtles.”
Gracie said nothing else, and Marina could tell by her breathing that she’d fallen asleep. She tossed a few more logs on the fire and eased herself down on the carpet, pulling Gracie to her and snuggling close. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if, together, they had called any ghosts.
* * *
Gracie was gone when she woke in the morning. She wondered if she had dreamed her coming. But Gracie was back by lunch asking her about Saba.
“I know it’s just a story, but is it a true story?” Gracie asked. They both sat on the floor of Marina’s cabin.
“It’s as true a story as my mother knew how to tell,” Marina offered.
“Did your mother love you?”
“Yes. She still loves me. I haven’t seen her for a while, but I’m sure she still loves me.” Marina thought she should reassure Gracie and say something about Gracie’s mother still loving her, but Marina had never really known how to relate to children in a way that was different from how she would relate to an adult.
“Hey!” Gracie had picked up the little black pebble from the mirror pool and was turning it in her fingers. “It looks like a turtle.”
It did sort of look like a turtle’s shell, but Marina hadn’t noticed it before now. It was oblong and smoothly rounded.
Gracie held it close to her eye. “I think Saba must be inside here. What do you think?”
“She might be.” Marina smiled.
Gracie set the stone back down on the table that had become Marina’s altar. “What’s all this stuff?” she asked.
“That’s my altar . . . my special things.”
“What’s it for?”
“It’s a special place I can go to. See these things?” She picked up and set down several of her treasures. “They each remind me of something important that I know or want to remember.”
“Like what?”
“Well,” Marina picked up the pendulum, “This reminds me that if I look carefully and softly, and if my heart is open, I can see more things. It also reminds me of the person who gave it to me. And this little branch reminds me that I can be strong if I need to be.”
“What about the bowl?” Gracie said, fingering the bowl Mai-Ling had given her.
“That full or empty is my choice, no one else’s.” She hadn’t voiced this thought before. The awareness came over her suddenly, but it felt correct.
Gracie needed to know what each piece meant, and Marina explained them all patiently. Speaking her thoughts out loud was almost a form of prayer. When she finished, Gracie was quiet for a long while. When she finally spoke again it was with great seriousness.
“Do you think I could have an altar?”
“Anyone can have an altar, Gracie. You just have to make one.”
“Will you help me?”
“Of course. But you might want to start with just a few things and collect more as you go. It’s more important to have the right things than to have a lot of things.”
“Okay. How do I start?”
“Let’s start with what’s most important to you. What would you want in your secret sanctuary?”
“A san
ctuary is like a hiding place,” Gracie announced proudly.
“Yes, it is.”
“Then I guess I would start with my mom and my dad.”
“And what might represent them on your altar?”
Gracie thought of several things and discarded them just as quickly. Marina suggested that they take a walk and see what they could find.
They spent the afternoon finding, inspecting, discussing, and usually discarding shells, stones, branches, and feathers. In the end they returned with four things for Gracie’s fledgling altar: a cowry shell to represent her mother, a little green feather to represent herself, a white stone to represent her father, and a small, gray branch of driftwood, just big enough to support her miniature family.
Marina encouraged her to play with the arrangement until it felt right to her. She made space on her own altar table for Gracie’s items. When Gracie finished arranging her pieces, the green feather was stuck in the center of the piece of driftwood and the stone and cowry shell were as far out on the ends of the branch as they could be without falling. She did not offer to explain her arrangement to Marina. They sat together in silence, each contemplating their altars. Marina was surprised at how long Gracie could sit still.
A little while before sunset, Gracie was called away again by the signal only she could hear. Marina carried more firewood to her circle and lit a small fire. She was more tired than she had been the night before and quickly fell into a trance before the flames.
One moment it was light, the next moment it was dark. It was dark and she was studying the patterns of the fire. She could see shapes in the fire. She could see shapes through the fire. She could see eyes looking back at her, the eyes of a shadow. Slowly she realized that the shadow had a face. It had a mouth with white teeth. It was smiling at her. Then it spoke.
“Everybody comin’ and goin’.”
Marina was surprised at how real the shadow sounded. She shook her head as if to shake the fire trance off. She looked away, blinked hard, and looked back. The shadow was still in front of her. She could see it even more clearly now, sitting opposite her, the fire between them.