The Guardians Ch.1 by Jaimie

Rewind

I was in a forest in the late afternoon, a forest in which the trees reached up to touch the dusk sky. The full moon shone on the eastern horizon, I was sure, waiting for its turn in the sky. The trees throbbed with life, and I knew, somehow, that these trees had been here for centuries, if not millennia. I wove my way through them, stopping every once in a while to examine a footprint, a vine, a flower. I wandered for what seemed like hours, or at least until the moon was directly overhead, spattering everything with its silver light.
I was examining the procession of large insects that shimmered like the finest jade, when, out of nowhere, a figure melted out of the shadows with a faint ‘whoosh’ and silently walked toward a faint reddish glow to the east. The only sound was that of its long, hooded cloak brushing along the forest floor. Having nothing better to do, I followed it.
After a few hundred yards, it suddenly stopped and looked to its right. I heard the cracking of a twig, and whirled around to face the noise. Out of the darkness, an ancient wolf with unsettlingly intelligent eyes approached the figure. A great mist seemed to condense around the wolf, and then, out of it, stepped another figure. The two of them nodded to each other with and made an unfamiliar hand gesture, a strange twisting of the right hand over the sternum. They then continued to walk, breaking into the circle of light.
There was a large bonfire in the middle of a clearing, often flickering up into strange, animal-like shapes in vibrant hues before collapsing back again. Seated on smooth boulders in a ring around the fire were a dozen or more figures wearing the same long cloaks but with their hoods down. To my utter amazement, I recognized many of the faces. There was one of my old teachers, and over there, my neighbors. With a jolt, I noticed was that all of them were women, and that they all of their eyes seemed to be cut from gemstones. A few other vaguely familiar female faces surrounded the flames, and when the two cloaked figures entered the circle, they all repeated the strange, awkward gesture. They both dropped their hoods, and revealed that they were none other than my mother and grandmother. I stood in the shadows, my mouth hanging open with shock while my mother started to speak.
“I have called this meeting of the Guardians to carry out a decision which requires your approval.” my mother said. “My daughter is coming of age in a week, and I seek your assistance on convincing her of her duties.”
“Is it wise to tell her now, at the time when we are in the gravest danger?” a glamorous woman asked with a voice as soft as the wind through the grass. “Can’t we wait another couple years?”
“I, for one, think she should be told” said another, shorter girl, maybe seventeen, in a whiny voice that sounded like it came from a three-year-old.
“No, no, no” a withered old woman replied angrily, her voice as ancient as stone, “She wouldn’t understand. Do you want to scare her off? She’d think you were crazy!”
“That would never happen!” exclaimed a person who looked strangely familiar. “I think I aught to know her. After all, I’ve been a part of her life since before she was born! We must tell her.” Uproar followed that statement as people took sides.
“Quiet!” my grandmother exclaimed, leaping to her feet and brandishing a staff made of wood, polished smooth from use, with glowing, milky-white stones set into the handle. She was obviously respected, as all of the people quickly were hushed. “We shall go about this in a civilized manner. It is up to her mother, my daughter, to decide whether to tell her now or to wait. Those of you who wish to offer advice; you may speak to her after the meeting, but right now, we have other matters to attend to.”
And then my alarm clock went off.

I rolled over and groaned, not quite ready to get out of bed. The only problem with that was…my alarm clock was half way across the room. Beep, beep, beep it taunted me. I pulled my quilt over my head, and, when that didn’t help, my pillow. Still, that infernal beeping found its way into my head, pounding against my brain and making sleep impossible. “Stupid alarm clock” I muttered crossly as I sat up in bed, pulling back my sheets, awakening my cat, Tigger and making her arch her fiery back contentedly before hunkering down and licking her snowy-white paw. I rolled out of bed, barely managing to land on my feet, and stumbled over to the offending clock, swearing as I stubbed my toe along the way, and then remembered: today was the last day of school. A little more awake, I walked across the hall and into the bathroom, began running the shower, and stepped in.
I rushed through my shower, narrowly avoiding several injuries. In fact, I could swear I’d just nicked my ankle bone, but all that was there was a faint, pink scar. There was even blood on the razor. Don’t be ridiculous, I thought, shaking my head, that’s impossible. I lathered my hair and scrubbed my back, but eventually I couldn’t dither in the warm water any longer. Getting out of the shower, I wrapped myself into a towel and darted back into my room.
I flounced over to my wardrobe, my feet sinking into the luscious white fokati rug beneath my feet, and picked a last-day-of-school worthy outfit. I put on some distressed jean shorts that showed off my tan, trim legs; my string-bikini swimsuit top, in forest green; and a semi-opaque white tank top that stretched the limits of the dress code, the straps minimal, a plunging neckline, and showing a sliver of my flat stomach. I also donned the traditional shell necklace and matching earrings, and makeup. After running a brush through my long, silky brown-almost-black hair, I sped down the stairs and into the kitchen where my parents were waiting for me with my breakfast.
“Good morning, Izzy” my father greeted me, wearing a tie-dye shirt and baggy jeans, “have any interesting dreams? I can interpret your future from them, you know.”
My father, always Mr. Spiritual. This month was dream interpretation; last month was meditation, and the month before that? Feng-Shui.
“Nothing, really,” I said. I contemplated for a few seconds whether or not to tell him. Yes, I decided. “Actually, dad, I had a dream about mom.” I turned to address my mother “you were walking through some woods, and a wolf turned into grandma, and you were a part of a group called ‘The Guardians’ or something. You talked about me.” I laughed.
My dad let out a bark of laughter, too, and after a second, my mom forced a chuckle. It didn’t reach her golden eyes. They stayed worried, confused. The sight of it troubled me, but instead of asking why, I dug into my cereal and, in quick procession, finished my orange half, toast, milk, and juice. Satisfied, I got up and rinsed my dishes, placing them carefully into the dishwasher. I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door, yelling “Bye, mom. Bye dad. See you after school” over my shoulder as I went.
I walked down the front walk and turned to head for school, but a cry of “Hey, Bella, wait up!” stopped me short. A couple of yards back, my best friend-slash-crush, Sean Bellefleur, was jogging to catch up with me, his red-black hair tousled from running, his arms and legs well muscled from years of track and swimming. I stopped to wait for him, as usual, and after catching up, he asked me why I was so early. He said he’d been relaxing on his porch with a drink when he saw me rush out of the house.
“It’s nothing” I said, adverting my eyes.
“Bella,” he said with mock annoyance, “you can’t lie to save your life. Now tell me, what happened? I might be able to help.” He crossed his arms and waited.
I sighed and admitted, “I had a crazy dream last night, and I told my dad to see if he could make sense of it, but my mom overheard and she freaked out. I think I really spooked her, but I don’t know why.” I shook my head. “Sometimes my mom’s just so darned cryptic.”
“I feel ya. My mom and my grandma went out for a ‘girls’ night’ and were arguing when they got back. I heard your name a couple times, but when I asked, they were suddenly extremely cheery.” He shrugged.
“Did you hear anything about a group called The Guardians?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah, my mom said something about ‘adding to the woe of The Guardians’. Why?”
That was what the group in my dream was called. I’m starting to think it was more than a dream…maybe more of a premonition.” I paused, and then laughed. “Look at me. I’m getting to be more like my dad every day.”
Suddenly, I was walking along the same path, but everything was colonial-looking. I froze, surprised. A hose and buggy clattered by on my right, and when I looked down, I saw that I was wearing a dress and petticoat instead of my jeans. My hair felt as stiff as a lump of steel wool, and I could hardly breathe through my corset. A man in a tailcoat was walking ahead of me, and when he turned around I saw it was not Sean, but a man who I’d seen in my history book. James something-or-other.
I turned and fled, scared out of my mind. I dashed toward the lot where my house was supposed to be, passing mansion after mansion, and halted in my tracks. This was my house, but the house was in excellent condition, the condition grandmother had said the house was in when her great-great-aunt had lived in it. I cautiously walked up the walk and knocked on the door, my curiosity overpowering that of fear. A wrinkled old woman in a maid’s uniform opened the door and looked at me inquiringly.
“Hi. Can I see Ms…uhh…?” I couldn’t remember Great-great-great-great-aunt Anastasia’s last name. “Oh. Ms. Hawkins, please. It’s a relative.”
The maid continued to look at me strange, but then a voice called from the hall: “Who is it, Marie?” The maid stepped aside and a woman who could’ve been Marilyn Monroe’s twin stepped forward, wearing a wedding dress imbedded with pearls and diamonds, gently sparkling in the light and trailing behind her for a good fifteen feet. She also wore a veil that draped past her tiny waist and fluttered softly in the breeze from the doorway. “Isabelle! How nice to see you again! It’s been years! Come in, come in.”
I gaped at her dumbfounded. It must’ve been the late 1800’s and my great-great-great-great-aunt had known my name? How could this be?
“Isabelle, dear, are you coming?” she turned and looked at me. “I’ve tea in the study, and you can stay if you like.” Her eyes were kind and excited, betraying nothing.
“Coming.” I meekly trailed after her.
Once we entered her study, a place handsomely decorated in dark oak with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, we made our way over to the small cluster of green leather armchairs in front of a roaring fire. She sat in a chair and picked up an intricate needle working project that depicted an emerald dragon curled around a castle tower. The scene was so realistic that I half expected the dragon to move. When she realized that I wasn’t seated, she told me that I could sit if I wished. I still stared at the dragon. “For my nephew.” She explained. “Tea?”
“Sure.” I sipped my tea, grimaced and set it down to cool. “How do you know my name? No, offense, but you were dead long before I was born, and so were your siblings, and their children. My grandmother, your great-great-niece was the closest to my generation ever to see you.”
She stared at me, eyebrow cocked, slowly shaking her head back and forth. Then, understanding lit her eyes. “But of course. You are simply from the next cycle. Am I correct when I say that you will be turning sixteen soon?”
“Well, yeah. My birthday’s a week from today…well, the day I left behind. Why?”
“Your closest female relative will explain after the hour of birth on your birthday. My mother told me at seven p.m. on my sixteenth.” She said, smiling. “What a shock. By the way, all you have to do if this ever happens again is fall asleep. It brings you back to your time. For now, I suggest curling up with a good book.” She grinned “that always helps me sleep.”
“I’ll do that” I said, smiling. Boy her grins were infectious. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you now; I need to get ready for my wedding. Just signal Marie if you need anything.” And with that, she left. I got up and started to browse the shelves, finally settling on a thick tomb of poetry. I pulled the chair closer to the fire, curled up, and read.