Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (11 page)

      She searches to find her place among angels and demons.

      She begins in the white kingdom. One, two, she finds a key.

      The key, which opens the yellow door, if she only believes.

      One by one, the queen finds them all.

      The door to each kingdom down the hall.

      The queen spends her time in careful examination.

      So her mind is not filled with any contamination.

      She does not skip, hop, or run along the way.

      For the power and danger she faces is not for play.

      She takes care to read every word she sees.

      And it all begins with one, two, she finds a key.”

   Julianna throws back her covers and springs out of her bed. She heads upstairs with her mother's diary. The auto-feature of the library's lighting detects her movement and illuminates the dimmed area.

    She stops on top of the circle with a star inside and faces the three u-shaped rows of bookshelves. Her eyes widen as she spots books with white tags upon their bindings. They are located on the first four rows from the top of the first shelf, and wrap all the way around the u-shape shelving. She notices a set of blue tag books underneath the white ones. They finish the massive horseshoe with a whopping sixteen rows to their credit.

  
Geezus. I'll be two-hundred before I can read all of that.

   The girl notices the air is a little chilly in this open area of the library. Dressed in her short-shorts, the girl realizes she probably should have grabbed her robe. Her red-streak side bangs dance among her raven black hair while she rubs the rising goose bumps from her arms.

   “One, two, she finds a key,” the teen quietly speaks while moving closer to the books. Julianna sees a ladder to her right. It is placed near the end of the bookshelf. She crosses the sixteen-foot distance to the ladder. It is attached to the thirty-two foot wide horseshoe. With roughly eight feet between each shelf, Julianna surmises that the third shelf must be around sixty to seventy-feet wide.

   “I take that back,” the girl reconsiders each of the three shelves; “I'll be five-hundred.”

   Julianna's emerald green eyes sparkle against the florescent lighting as she peers up the towering ladder. She exhales a quick forceful breath. The sudden burst of air parts her lips.

   “Gotta start somewhere, I guess,” Julianna coaches herself into making the high climb.

   Her legs nervously shake as she reaches the top row and looks down.  

   “Stop that,” Julianna scolds herself for the rookie mistake.

   She locks her left arm – still holding her mother's diary – through the gap between ladder runs and around the forty-five degree riser-board attached to the right side of the ladder. With her right hand clutching the ladder run above her left arm, Julianna examines the white tag books on the right end of each row.

  
Of course not. That'd be too damn easy.

   After recognizing the last tag in the set to be a perfect match color for the door where her mother's diary had been kept, the girl climbs back down the ladder. At least, she is now somewhat assured as to the books' orderings. If the final color is at the bottom right, then it only makes sense that the first book in the set will be found to the top left of the shelves. She places her right hand on the ladder and pushes.

  
Crap.

   The ladder stubbornly rejects the girl's authority. She examines the ladder's wheels. They do not touch the floor. Julianna spots a handle towards the bottom of the ladder. She walks behind the ladder and presses the handle down with her bare right foot.

  
Click. Click. Click. Swoosh.

   The hydraulics take over – dropping the wheels to the floor and releasing the brake. Julianna shakes her head and talks to her new stubborn friend,

   “Shall we try this again?”

   The teen nearly falls as she over-eagerly pushes the compliant ladder. She looks around the empty room like there is a possibility a small crowd has gathered to witness her clumsiness. Recomposing herself, Julianna walks the willing ladder to the other end of the horseshoe bookshelf.

  
Click. Click. Click. Swoosh.

   The ladder's wheels rise back up while locking the brake back into position. Julianna pushes and pulls to test the ladder's obedience against her victorious conquering. With her new experience, the teen climbs the ladder with a little more confidence in each step. Once she reaches the top row of white tag books, Julianna no longer feels the need to place a death grip around the ladder. The look down, however, she still believes is a good enough reason to harbor some anxiety, and reason enough to avoid the situation as much as possible.

   The girl gently nibbles on her lower lip while she scans the four rows. She grins after she verifies her calculations about the shelving system.

   “One, two, she finds a key,” Julianna recites as she plucks the first two white books from the shelf. She climbs back down the ladder, and places the two books on the floor next to the diary she decided not to carry a second time. Carefully tracing the diary's cover as she kneels, the girl sighs. Her eyes water while she stares at her mother's past.

   “Thanks mom,” she whispers before placing her first two fingers of her right hand to her lips. She makes a quiet kissing sound. Touching the diary's cover with her kissed fingers, Julianna forces a smile.

   She places the diary on top of the two white tag books and stands upright. The girl turns and reexamines the towering ladder before her. Julianna shakes her head at any notion of moving the ladder back into its original position. After all, there is no need. The library now belongs to Julianna Cora Atwood – daughter of Theresa and granddaughter to Martha, the mother of her mother.

   Julianna sits the empty glass of chocolate milk into the kitchen's empty dishwasher. She returns to her new bedroom, opens her personal fridge, and grabs a bottle of vitamin water. After opening it, the girl takes a long drink to wash down the thick film left behind from the milk. She places the cap back on and sits the water bottle on her nightstand.

   The teen reclaims her spot upon her bed. With her covers pulled into their rightful position, Julianna reaches for the two white books lying next to her water and Doritos. Leaning against her two pillows, she reads the book's titles.

   The first one reads:
Family History and Records
. The girl raises the left corner of her lip in protest. She puts it on the bed to her left and picks up the next one in the series.

   She quietly reads the title to herself, “
Woman: An Autobiography
.”

   Visioning what her mother went through with the white tag set, she replaces her book with the first one in the series. She opens it and begins reading.

   “
This book is maintained and expanded by all who have been placed into authority over the Collection. It is the sole responsibility of the governing authority to write her own story into the likeness of the Book of Two. Furthermore, said authority shall place her name into the back of this Book of One before the Collection can be reassigned to the next authority.
”

   Julianna flips the pages to the back of the book. Finding only blank pages, she thumbs the book towards the front until she sees writing. Her fingers, slowly, run over the final entry.

It reads: 
Theresa Brea Dermott

                Birth: July 15, 1975  

                Death:
                     

   She begins crying. Her shoulders shake as she pulls the open book tightly against her chest. With comfort refusing to make an appearance, Julianna closes the book. She has no desire to see her mother's missing entry again.

   The emotional teen switches out the two white books for her mother's diary and a box of tissues. Leaving the center room's overhead light on, she slides deeper into her covers. She lies on her right side with a hand full of tissues in one hand and her mother's diary in the other. Julianna, finally, falls fast asleep. She holds on tightly to her mother's hands via the diary in which they once touched.

  
Click.

   Martha's long red hair moves slightly as the two large double-doors to the library open inward. She steps across the threshold and heads for the library's main light switch. The auto-feature which detects life already within brightens the darkened library before she can reach the switch.

   “You're getting forgetful in your old age,” Martha chastises herself while thinking of her granddaughter's presence.

   The woman scrutinizes the open area of the large room. Her blue eyes catch the subtle changes within. The first row's ladder has been moved. She glances to the top shelf and sees an empty hole where two white books belong. Martha grins.

  
That's a good girl.

   The woman's blue-floral full-length dress glides as she quietly makes her way downstairs. She examines her sleeping granddaughter.

  
Oh, you poor dear.

   Used tissues lie on the bed. Martha can see her daughter's diary held like a teddy bear by her granddaughter. She wipes a forming tear from her right eye. The woman understands all too well what it is like to lose a child. And as horrible as it is to lose a parent, there is no comparison for losing a child. Even so, she knows it must be something awful to lose a mother at such a tender age. Julianna was only seven when Theresa died.

  
We've both been robbed, kiddo.

   The sleeping girl moans as she stirs underneath her bed's coverings. Martha expertly moves out of the room like a quiet breeze. She enters the kitchen area and smiles. With both hands on her hips, the woman speaks,

   “Okay, child. It's about time someone else does all of the cooking.”

   She scans the closed cabinets as if she had some type of x-ray vision before her eyes find their way to the direction of the pantry.

   “Pancakes it is,” Martha announces quietly, “And some eggs. Maybe some bacon?”

   Julianna wakes up to the inviting aromas of her gram's early morning endeavors. She sits up and sees her breakfast silently waiting for her on top of the desk.  She gets out of bed and walks over to her meal. A note sits folded against the warm bottle of maple syrup. Julianna unfolds the paper and reads the handwritten words silently.

  
Good morning my sleeping princess. I figured you might enjoy not having to cook. The silver will keep your food warm for a while.

   The teen glances over at the expensive silver lids fit over each silver tray. She looks back to the note.

  
You should have plenty of time to take care of your woman business without it getting cold. No need to rush around. Take your time. I'll be in the glass room when you're done eating. It's the room on the first floor (upstairs).

P.S. Mouth hygiene is located on the shelves in the washroom area.

                                                                                  Love,

                                                                                      Grams

   Julianna grins.

  
Already ahead of you, grams.

   She places the note back on the desk and contemplates munching out before brushing her teeth. Thoughts of plaque-filled food quickly settles the matter and she turns around to head for the washroom.

   Martha sees movement in her upper vision. She raises her head to see her granddaughter approaching from the stairs. The girl is dressed in one of her new pairs of jeans, and wears a beautiful black sweater decorated with gold trim below the neckline. 

   “Good morning, sleepy head,” Martha greets.

   Julianna stops as she reaches the entryway into the glass room. She looks at her grandmother's dress and smiles.

    “Good morning, grams. I see you're wearing your new clothes.”

   Martha grins, “Well dearie, I couldn't come underdressed knowing you had all those new clothes yourself to wear. And by the way, you make them look really stunning.” 

   The woman winks and then motions for her granddaughter to enter, “Come now, I have something for you.”

   Julianna ignores her gram's confidence builder and walks around a glass covered counter. It displays all sorts of jewelry, inks, pens, chalks, and paints – among other various items Julianna is not quite familiar with.

   “Geezus, grams. This is like Lisa’s,” the teen speaks while staring at the fancy jewelry within the cabinet.

   “I don't know who that is, dear,” Martha confesses.

   “Lisa’s,” Julianna explains, “Don’t you watch T.V.?”

   “You mean that jewelry store by the mall?”, Martha answers, “Oh no, child. This jewelry is for family only. There’s not a store anywhere with these designs.”

   “Um-okay,” Julianna realizes she must have hit a nerve. She remains silent while she watches Martha reach into the counter. The woman pulls out a black box. She opens it and reveals an ink bottle.

   Martha hands the black ink to Julianna, “This is black dragon's blood.”

   The girl's dark eyebrows rise within her disbelief.

   Martha pats Julianna's left hand, “Don't worry, child. There's no such thing as dragons.”

   The girl tries to laugh off the absurdity of dragons ever being real, but no sound comes out. Instead, she halfheartedly grins. The amused Martha reaches back into the cabinet. She returns with a strange-looking pen in one hand and a pad of white paper in the other.