"No, no," said his mom. "Let him go out and enjoy the sun. It doesn't last forever here, you know?"
"Mom!" complained Coda. "I just—"
"Yeah, come out and play with me," Zoey chimed in. Coda saw that Zoey had already finished her cereal and was ready to go.
"Yeah," said Coda’s mom. "Play with your sister for a while. I don't want you playing video games all day."
"Oh, man! Do I have to?" complained Coda. He looked up at the ceiling in distress. "I can play outside by myself or I’ll look for Michael."
Zoey's head drooped in disappointment. With heavy steps, she walked toward the dishwasher to place her dirty bowl. Suddenly she smiled and perked up. "Hey Coda, let's go to the forest and build a fort!"
Coda rolled his eyes. Having a younger sister hanging around him all the time wasn't his kind of fun. He sighed, "You're not good at that."
He glanced at Zoey and saw her expression—like her heart had sunk to the floor. She's such a brat!
"Oh, alright," Zoey mumbled. Her shoulders hung like she had a heavy weight on them, but Coda knew she was acting out her disappointment worse than it was. "I'll play in my room, I guess." Her mouth barely opened to get the words out, making everyone lean close enough to understand her.
Coda's dad put his arm around her. "Did you say something about your room?"
She looked down. "Yeah, I said I'll just play in my room, I guess." It came out almost as a muffled whisper.
"Zoey," her dad bent down on one knee to look at her. He gently pushed his finger up, under her chin, making her lift her head so he could look directly into her eyes. "What did we talk about last night?"
"I don't know," she muttered again, shrugging her shoulders.
Coda saw sadness in her eyes, and like always, he wondered if it was a real sadness, or the actress inside of her.
"We talked about your mumbling problem. We can't hear you when you speak like that, remember?"
"I don't mumble," Zoey protested, her eyes welling up, “and I don’t have a problem!”
Coda could tell his mom was starting to get uncomfortable with the way this was going.
"We're not disciplining you, Zo Zo," she reassured.
She stood up to go and comfort her daughter. "We just want to know how you feel." She put her arm around Zoey, pulling her snugly against her hip. "And we can't understand you when you always have your hand around your mouth when you talk." Coda saw his mom's forehead wrinkle as she added with concern, "We just want to hear you."
Coda took his first bite of cereal. He'd seen this scene play out many times, always with the same ending. The funny thing was that he hardly ever had a problem understanding his sister. He could hear Zoey a mile away if he wanted to, but wanting to was never the case.
Zoey looked down again and crossed her arms with the bowl still held firmly in her hand. A tear fell down her cheek and she started to cry. Here we go again, thought Coda.
"Zoey?" Her dad peered into her eyes. "Everything is alright, just tell us what the problem is." His voice had picked up slightly when he'd said “problem,” and Coda felt a twinge of anger in it. Coda knew his dad wasn't buying this act any more than he was.
"I don't like it when you tell me that I mumble, because I can't help it." She put the bowl on the counter and slowly walked toward the entryway. She opened the door and went outside, forgetting to shut the door behind her.
Coda took another bite of cereal as he watched his parents shake their heads. "I know," said his dad, "let's get that speech therapist on the phone, the one that Susan told us about."
"Good idea," agreed his mom as she started wiping up the table with a damp cloth. "Susan said it helped her son a lot.”
Coda's dad walked to the entryway. The sun shone through, engulfing the wood floor and showing some dust that covered the area. He poked his head out of the doorway to see if Zoey was around. Coda looked back at his cereal and dipped his spoon in it for another bite. As he lifted the spoon toward his mouth, he suddenly dropped it on the table, clutching his ears with his hands.
He fell off his chair and onto the floor as the loud screeching sound blasted his eardrums. He closed his eyes tightly as blackness entered his vision, with bolts of electric violet light shooting around. His mom rushed to his rescue, grabbing him, and then helping him to his feet.
Coda opened his eyes. The screeching sound roared in his ears as his mom mouthed something he couldn't hear. Then he felt the large hands of his dad rubbing his back, doing his best to calm him down.
The screech turned into a voice that screamed, “Don't fear! Tomorrow, your journey begins!” and it quickly faded away.
Coda jumped up, yelling at his mom. “Did you hear that?”
"I didn't hear anything."
"Hear what?" asked his dad.
"The...well...um...I don't know. The noise, I guess," said Coda, rubbing his ears with annoyance and embarrassment. "It's the noise I heard this morning, but then it said, 'Don't fear’ and something, something about a journey, again."
"Oh boy," said his dad. "I guess we'll need two appointments—one with the speech therapist and one at the ear doctor."
Coda's mom gave his dad a scornful look.
"No, I'm fine," protested Coda. He shook his head, trying to get the last of the ringing out of his ears as he walked upstairs, toward his room. He kept rubbing his ears, not wanting to hear that noise ever again.
Chapter 3
Zoey followed a dirt path that she and her brother had dubbed Abernathy Trail—named after the creek that ran alongside it. She was on the edge of the Cornell Forest, just a block from their house. It was a place where she felt at home, even more than in the house she lived in. She always felt welcome here, and her favorite tree didn’t care how she spoke or mumbled.
Walking close to the narrow flowing creek only a few feet away made it all that much better. The creek sent cool air to her body, making it easier to bear the summer heat.
Zoey saw that the sun was at its highest peak, beaming shafts of light between the gaps of maple and oak leaves, mixed with pine branches. She heard the sounds of birds chirping and fluttering from branch to branch, bringing a sense of business amongst the trees.
Zoey looked back down at her feet and kept walking, lost in thought. I talk just fine, she grumbled to herself now and then.
As she came around a bend in the creek, she gasped in surprise. The forest ahead of her was completely unfamiliar. There were trees that she knew she’d never seen before, and the surroundings seemed pristine, much more than usual, yet the dirt path next to the creek continued onward. She wondered how long she’d been walking and why she’d never come this way before.
She wiped away a tear, looking more carefully at the woods around her. She noticed a peculiar tree about ten yards away. It was strange looking. Its bark was twisted, spiraling up the trunk, and well-lit leaves that seemed different from all of the other leaves growing in the forest. The tree from my dream? She shook her head. That's silly. Then the feeling of her dream came back like a surge of rushing water. She couldn't help but think the dream was more real than it should have been.
She looked more closely at the twisted tree. There, at its base, was a rather large knot sticking out. Her eyes widened in delight and she quickly forgot about her dream. What a perfect stool to sit on.
She was about to run toward the tree but stopped, remembering her dilemma. How do I get my mom and dad to stop bugging me about the way I talk?
Her head drooped, her shoulders sagged forward, and her eyes became teary again. It's impossible. They don't understand.
She walked to the edge of the creek and stared at the moving water. She stood in a sad, self-pitying daze.
An abrupt wind picked up, nearly pushing her into the creek. She shrieked in surprise, catching herself from toppling over by stepping into the creek with her right foot, soaking her shoe and sock in the process. Quickly pulling her foot out of the now clouded, muddied water, she crossed
her arms in disappointment, making a 'humph' sound. Then she plopped straight down, onto her rump, and sat cross-legged with her wet shoe dripping muddy water onto the ground.
As she sat there pouting, she noticed something very unusual about a green fern next to her. It had a strange, white powder on it.
She looked over at a yellow dandelion and saw the same white powder on it as well. She then realized that the white powder was everywhere—on the dirt, on the flowers, on the bushes, but it seemed to go no further than the edge of that spiraled tree’s branches hanging just above her.
Did it fall from the tree?
Zoey touched the white dust on the fern. It was cold and felt like snow. A big grin appeared on her face and she screamed with delight, “Snow!” She grabbed a handful and threw it into the air.
Zoey knew, though, that snow fell only around Christmas time. It’s summer, so how could it snow? She grabbed another handful and threw it into the air, tucking the question away for later.
“Zoey?” said a woman’s sweet soft voice.
Zoey froze. “Who’s there?” she called out tentatively.
No one answered. She shrugged her shoulders, continuing to forage for snow. However, it was quickly melting away in the summer heat.
She had an idea. If she gathered the snow fast enough and showed Coda, then maybe he'd play with her. She gathered as much snow as she could, and then paused for a moment. Something jumped in front of her. What was that? The small green creature jumped again.
“Frog!” she yelled, as she dropped the snow and trapped the frog in her hands.
“Hi, little froggy, how are you?” She opened her hands to peek at the frog. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” she said as she tried to pet it.
Too late.
The frog jumped out of her hands and onto the forest floor. She giggled and picked up some more snow.
“You're very kind,” said the same sweet voice she'd heard only moments earlier.
Zoey paused. “What? Who said that?” She slowly surveyed the forest to see if her brother was playing a trick on her.
“Coda, where are you?” She walked up to the tree to peer around it. “I see you, Coda,” she called out, fibbing, not really seeing her brother or knowing if he was around.
Zoey took a step forward, bumping her knee on the large knot growing out of the tree. “Ouch.” Then she remembered. The knot. It's a perfect place to sit.
She touched the interesting looking knot. It was amazing. It almost looked as if someone had carved it out of the tree just for people to sit on it.
A squirrel scampered down the tree, stopping midway down the trunk. Its nose and whiskers rapidly twitched and its black eyes stared intently at Zoey. She considered if the squirrel was actually thinking or perhaps examining her. It jumped onto the knot, made a loud squeak, and stared up at her again.
“Hi, little one,” said Zoey. She slowly reached out her hand. Frightened, the squirrel jumped up and down on the knot, and Zoey pulled her hand back. Suddenly, it scooted back up the trunk and then into the high branches.
This gave Zoey an idea. She could stand on the knot and grab the lowest lying branch to climb the tree.
She placed one foot on the knot, then the other. She felt something zap her as she reached for the branch just above her. She screamed and jumped off the knot as fast as she could. Her heart pounded as she stared at the tree. What had zapped her?
She tiptoed all around the tree, but didn’t see anything that could have sent a shock through her. She remembered that static electricity would do that to her every so often, so she shook her body to get the sensation to go away and stepped on the knot, or seat, once again.
She stood still, waiting for it to come again.
Nothing happened.
She grabbed the branch above her. A strong tingling sensation vibrated through her, from her head all the way down to her toes.
Startled again, she jumped off.
“It’s alright. All of us trees are good trees. I have a seat right here, just for sitting, if you'd like,” said the sweet voice.
Zoey stopped breathing for a moment. She put her hand and ear against the bark of the tree, trying to pinpoint where the speakers were located. After a brief period of quiet and hearing nothing, she stepped back, inspecting the tree by its entirety.
Glowing green leaves and twisting bark were the only things different about the tree, so she bent down, feeling the soil dampened from the melted snow that had covered the area minutes before, thinking a speaker might be there.
Is the tree actually talking to me?
“You are merely listening,” responded the tree.
Zoey smiled, looking around the forest. “Trees don’t talk. Who is this? Coda?” She was convinced a joke was being played on her.
“Come—sit,” beckoned the tree.
Zoey rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever.”
She slowly sat down on the knot in the tree. She couldn’t relax, wondering what was going to zap her next. She even wondered why she was being so silly, doing what a tree, or whatever it was, had asked her to do. This is a joke, she thought. “Who’s playing a joke on me?” she said out loud.
As she sat, Zoey felt the wave of tingling go through her body again. It felt weird to her, almost like a tickle and she laughed.
“I'm the Snow Tree.”
“Snow Tree?” Zoey snorted. She waited for a prankster to jump out of its hiding place, camera in hand.
“There’s no such thing as a Snow Tree. Who’s saying that?”
“Oh?” said the voice. “I am a Snow Tree.” And, as if on cue, the tree started to sprinkle snowflakes onto Zoey.
Zoey jumped up from the seat. “Brrr, that's cold.” She glanced up at the Snow Tree to see snow forming on it’s branches, and dropping to the ground.
“Wow,” said Zoey, “are you really talking to me?”
“You’re merely listening,” replied the tree.
“Can all trees talk?”
“Yes, most can, and most do.”
“Nuh-uh,” said Zoey. “Then how come I can’t hear them?”
“You’ve never listened,” replied the tree. “You’ve never paid attention. You were focused on the snow when you heard my voice. The snow is a big part of me, so it was easier for you to hear me.”
Zoey furrowed her brow. She didn’t understand, and only replied with a lonely, “Oh.”
“Just look around,” said the Snow Tree.
As Zoey looked at the landscape, she saw what she usually saw in the forest; trees slowly rocking in soft wind with ferns shadowed underneath, wild green grasses off in the distance bathed by the glow of the sun, the sound of the creek flowing against rocks and roots, and birds flying from branch to branch while singing their own tunes.
“What do you see and hear, Zoey?”
Zoey shrugged her shoulders, mumbling, “I don’t know.”
“You don't see and hear the forest talking?”
“I guess,” replied Zoey.
“Good. You're listening. Now, I want to show you something.”
After a short pause, the Snow Tree said, “Look at the fern in front of you.”
“It’s a pretty fern,” Zoey said, as if that was what the tree wanted to hear.
“Yes, it is,” said the Snow Tree. “Now come and sit back down on my perch.”
Zoey shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the knot at the tree’s base. “Okay, here I am, now what?”
“When you stop thinking about other things,” replied the Snow Tree, “and pay attention only to the fern, then you’ll truly be able to see it in a way that the inhabitants of the forest see it.”
Zoey rolled her eyes and lowered her head, murmuring, “I see the fern.”
“Let your eyes relax. Do you see who’s taking care of it?”
“Is it you?” asked Zoey.
“In some ways I’m its caretaker, but I don’t care for it like my friends do. If you watch the fern without any thought
of yourself, or any thought of what you think I want to hear, then I’ll help you find that place within yourself so you can see.”
Zoey didn’t know what the Snow Tree was talking about, but stared at the fern anyway. She gradually started to feel a different tingling sensation embracing her body. It somehow gave her more focus and concentration.
Zoey’s body took a long, deep breath of fresh air without her command. Then her eyes widened in complete amazement.
There, hovering next to the fern was a small pink ball of light. Zoey put her hand over her mouth in surprise, and pointed at the pink ball. “What is that?”
“Keep concentrating, Zoey.”
Zoey looked straight at the ball with no other thought than what she was seeing. Within seconds, the ball turned into a beautiful, tiny woman with wings. She had her hands on the fern, tending to it, while singing the most beautiful of songs.
Zoey jumped off the knot and ran over to the fern. But, before she could reach the fern, the tiny woman disappeared.
“What was that?” asked Zoey. She was delighted by this whimsical creature. She'd never seen anything like it, and couldn't stop smiling as she scurried about, looking for the flying woman.
“That is what's called a nature spirit. Nature spirits take care of this forest. There are many different types of nature spirits. That one was a nymph.”
Zoey looked around the fern and started calling for her. “Nymph? Nymph? Come here little Nymph.”
“She’s still there. I wanted to show you that there's more to life than what you see on a daily basis. There is so much more to the world than what you normally perceive it to be. You'll experience more of this very soon,” said the Snow Tree.
Zoey had no idea what she was talking about, but ran over and sat on her chair again, hopefully. She wanted to see the nymph. Gazing into the fern for what seemed to be several minutes, she saw nothing more than the fern itself.
“I can’t see her.”
“But you did, and that's all that matters.”
The wind then blew a mighty gust and Zoey closed her eyes. Her thoughts drifted away from the tiny flying woman and onto the wind. “That felt good.”
The PureLights of Ohm Totem Page 3