Maya of the Inbetween by Sita Bennett

Author:Sita Bennett [Sita Bennett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mystic Adventure Press
Published: 2022-04-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter fourteen

The sound of birds chirping woke me. It was a melody I had not heard before.

Before opening my eyes, I rolled in the warm furs, appreciating their texture against my cheek. Vitality burst within for the day ahead. Waking up in the valley and simply being alive for another day all felt like pure magic.

That was the only comprehendible explanation for any of it; that magic is real.

I opened my eyes to the rough wooden ceiling high above, reminding me of how small I was in a home fit for giants. A large cloth art piece hung on the wall directly opposite the bed, stained with splashes of rich beetroot purple and berry reds. Wooden shelves with rugged, natural edges curved out from the wall, decorated with simple, hand-made ornaments.

I slid from the bed and stretched, muscles stiff from dancing. The leather daybed where Björn slept was already neatly made.

The Samãdhi People assumed he and I were close before arriving, and I didn’t want to cause inconvenience by requesting separate quarters, but it felt strange to be living with a stranger. Especially when the stranger felt more familiar than anyone I’d ever known.

Through the open window I could hear noises from outside.

“Hua! Ha!” It sounded as if Björn was fighting someone, but when I looked out into the garden, he was alone.

He punched the air with force, eyes sharp and fiercely focussed.

I wandered quietly over to the open door and leaned my shoulder against its frame. He was shirtless, skin already shiny with sweat and white/blonde hair catching the early morning sun. I watched his muscles tighten and contract with his movements. He moved two steps and swung his leg into a high kick, spun, then stepped again, each one meticulous and precise.

He caught my gaze and paused.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked. The movements looked familiar, but at the same time, foreign.

He didn’t answer, kicking the air twice more to finish the sequence.

“Ha! Ha!”

I turned to go back into the house. I was distracting him.

“A Chinese woman,” he finally replied, and I froze.

“Some kind of martial art?” I turned back and stepped onto the porch.

He nodded.

“I learned in secret.” In the City, martial arts were a lost fighting form. It was banned.

“And the Chinese woman was she . . . How did you meet her?”

He hesitated and scratched his cheek.

“It ah . . . It’s bizarre, and will probably sound crazy but . . .”

“She visited you in your dreams.” I blurted out the moment he said, “I met her in a dream.”

He cocked his head questioningly and moved toward me.

“How did you . . .?”

“She visited me in my dreams too.”

We simply stared at one another, a new level of connection forming.

“How often did she visit?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“More times than I can count. It started when I was around ten and continued through my teenage years. She helped me stay centered in myself, while at the same time build the fighting skills she somehow knew I’d need in the future.

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