The Light of Oriah : Burning Jungle - Part One Read online

  The Light of Oriah : Burning Jungle - Part One

  Title Page

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  The Light of Oriah : Burning Jungle

  ISBN -

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

  Copyright © Sam Vickery 2016

  Preface

  “Run!” she screamed. “You have to run Oriah!”

  I saw the fear in my mothers eyes and felt panic rise up within me. My mother was never scared, never even nervous. I knew in that moment that this was serious. Unable to stop myself I grabbed hold of her arm, my fingernails scraping desperately at her exposed skin, though I knew it wouldn't leave a mark.

  “No, I can't, I won't leave you!”

  “Darling you have to go, I will follow, I promise, but I have to go back for your father,” she insisted, prising me off her body and shoving me roughly backwards towards the thick jungle, her eyes apologetic and filled with terror.

  “I can help – I can fight!” I pleaded, trying to sound stronger than I felt.

  “NO!” she shouted, taking me by surprise. “Just go Oriah, please!” she begged. She shook her head with finality, already backing away from me. Her body was coiled ready to move, but she hesitated as she waited for me to act. “Run Oriah, NOW!”

  I stood for half a second as I hesitated, not wanting to leave her, unsure of the situation she was heading into. But then, unable to defy her wishes I nodded firmly, my eyes meeting hers one final time. And I ran.

  The trees and plants were a display of bright colours as I moved past them with lightning speed, with no idea where I should go, where I was running to, only that it was better than what I was running from. I ran so far I could almost see the edge of the rainforest, farther than I had ever been before. This frightened me. I didn't know if I should carry on or wait here for my parents to catch up. Should I hide somewhere? And then in my hesitation I heard my mother scream. It sent shivers down my spine and nearly threw me to the ground, I had never heard anything so horrific in all my life. I swung around storming back the way I had come, faster and faster still.

  As I got closer, the entwined stench of smoke, blood, and burning filled my nostrils, bringing up a cocktail of emotions within me; revulsion, fear... hunger.

  “Don't let me be too late, please don't let me be too late,” I repeated over and over under my breath, the mantra creating a steady rhythm to accompany my feather-light footfall. At last I burst into the clearing that I called home, my eyes searching, my ears listening for any available clue. Skidding to a halt, I fell to my knees as I realised what I was seeing before me. Our home was shattered, crushed to the ground, orange flames licking through the pile of wood and memories. The clearing was deserted, nothing remained, but a pile of smoking ashes beside my fathers drained corpse.

  Chapter One

  The air was warm and sultry, my face upturned towards the blinding sun, a smile on my lips, as I breathed in deep. Barefoot, I stepped forward into the cool water, sighing with relief as it rushed over my hot skin. It felt deliciously refreshing. Nearby an olive baboon screeched loudly, startling the birds from the trees as he flew through the air landing gracefully on an outstretched branch. The rainforest was vibrant, alive, and just as I did every day, I stared in awe at the paradise I was lucky enough to call home.

  Granted, I had nothing to compare it to, I had never even come close to leaving the safety of the jungle, but I was content, satisfied that life couldn’t possibly get better than this. I watched the sunlight hitting the still water and felt an urge to touch it, as if I could soak up the reflected warmth. Reaching down with my fingertips I traced the patterns, watching the surface break, sending ripples through my reflection.

  Feeling suddenly playful, I gave a whoop of joy as I splashed into the deeper water, up to my waist, twirling and dancing, my arms outstretched above my head like a prima ballerina. I waded over to the cascading falls, my dress sodden and heavy with water, yet not slowing me down one bit. Standing at the foot of the waterfall I concentrated, focusing my gaze intently, my eyes beginning to fill with a familiar pressure. As I stared, the water shifted slowly, parting through the centre like the opening of curtains, creating a dry passage for me to pass through. I laughed again, pleased with myself, I was getting better at this trick! Glancing behind me once more to check I wasn’t being watched, I darted through the gap just as the water resumed tumbling down.

  Here in this small damp cave, concealed from the world, I could let my creativity flow. The walls were bright with colour, the artwork fading into the dripping water. It wasn’t the best place to paint, but I always felt too conspicuous doing it out in the open, like someone might judge my work. My painting was for me, just me and I wasn’t up for hearing anyone's criticisms. Not that they would, I doubted, but perhaps this was how all artists felt about their work? Protective, shy. It was silly really, there were no secrets in my family. They knew what it was that I did here in my safe haven. But when you spend all of your time with the same people, sometimes it's nice to have a little something that is just for you. I pulled back the heavy rock that concealed my art supplies and sighed happily.

  ***

  The plane landed heavily, bumping along the grey tarmac, dragging me from my dream. Reluctantly, not yet ready to face reality, I turned my head to the side, slowly opening my swollen, red eyes. I had cried a lot of tears this past week. I watched the other passengers getting to their feet, stretching and yawning as they pulled coats and backpacks out of the overhead storage lockers. My time was up, it seemed. Wearily I pulled together my small woven bag, checking the passport my mother had so thoughtfully secured for me was still in place. My father, Richard, had looked at her like she was crazy when she had arrived back from one of her expeditions bearing three leather bound passports, one for each of us.

  “As if we would need them,” he had said. “We never go anywhere!” But like always, my mother was right. Her gift had turned out to be very useful, to me at least, after all.

  I pulled on a cap, trying to remain inconspicuous, though I suspected I was falling widely short of the mark. I could sense several pairs of eyes honing in on me, and directed my face down, determinedly avoiding their curious gazes. Drifting into the arrivals lounge of Heathrow, I cast around the awaiting crowd to see if I could pick out my Aunt. Everyone looked the same to me, I couldn’t tell one human from the next. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman who must have been in her forties, thin and well dressed in a burgundy pencil skirt and cashmere cardigan, buttoned right to her throat. She was beckoning to me with a wide grin on her face. I advanced with caution, not quite sure of myself, wanting to make sure I was approaching the right person. It looked like she was experiencing the same doubts.

  “Oriah, is that you? Oh it is dear, it's really you, do come here!” she exclaimed, holding out her arms towards me.

  “Hi Auntie,” I said quietly, stopping short of her embrace.

  “Please, call me Aunt Ivy my dear,” she simpered, stepping forward and leaning in for a hug, before changing her mind at the last moment, reaching out for my bag instead. “Let me help you with that...”

  “No, it's fine, I’ve got it... Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, holding on firmly to my belongings.

  “Whatever you like dear,” she brushed her hand through the air dismissively. “Now let's get you
home shall we? We have so much to catch up on. I must say I was simply devastated to hear the news about my dear brother and your mother, a car crash you say? Must have been simply awful for you pet! And such a shame I couldn't make it to the funeral, but the Congo dear, well, I'm not sure I would cope. All that heat, those bugs,” she shuddered. I nodded stiffly, flinching at the mention of my parents. “Well, never you mind, you are welcome to stay with me as long as you like. It will be nice to have some company for a change,” she continued, offering a warm smile as we walked through the packed airport.

  I ducked my head feeling embarrassed at her generosity. “Thanks Aunt Ivy, I really appreciate it.”

  I followed her out to the car, taking in my new surroundings. It was cold here, but the temperature didn’t bother me, only in an emotional sense I supposed, it was too different from where I belonged. There were so many sounds, so many voices, I couldn’t figure out how to focus. Cars were everywhere, as were buildings. They blocked the sky and made me feel insignificantly small and lost in this new land. I suddenly had a strong desire to run and run, to break free of these suffocatingly high walls.

  Aunt Ivy talked a lot as she drove, the buildings slowly phasing out into fields and trees. This felt more familiar to me and I watched the scenery passing by frustratingly slowly, reminding myself to be patient – Humans don’t have the same concept of speed Oriah, you need to relax.

  Aunt Ivy was telling me something about her new bathroom, something to do with a jacuzzi bath which seemed to please her, and I nodded along, trying to be polite, thinking of the manners my father had instilled in me. Eventually, she pulled into a gravel driveway facing a small but pretty cottage.

  “Well this is home,” she trilled.

  “It's very nice,” I offered dutifully. She shook her head as if I had insulted her horribly.

  “It's beautiful dear,” she corrected chidingly. “Now let me show you where you'll sleep.” She led me through a dark, stiflingly hot hallway up a creaking set of stairs and into a bedroom, which was covered from floor to ceiling in floral prints of varying degrees of insipid.

  “Thank you Aunt Ivy,” I said, not quite meeting her eyes as I clutched my bag close to my chest, wishing she would go away. She seemed to take the hint.

  “Dinner in an hour then, I'll leave you to freshen up.” I attempted a smile and nodded in agreement, watching her close the door. I paused silently for just a few seconds, listening to her footsteps descending on the creaky stairs. It seemed to take forever. I heard her reach the kitchen, and sighed in relief, dropping my bag to the floor before rushing to the window to throw it open. It felt suffocating in here, too hot, the air was stagnant, musty. I craved the outside, and more than that, I was beginning to feel hungry. Tonight I would have to hunt. This realisation conjured up a strange mixture of emotions; Excitement, tension and curiosity for what I might discover in this new and unfamiliar environment. My stomach gave a lurch in anticipation of the chase.

  I stepped back from the window leaving it wide open, and feeling my excitement turn to dread I cast around the room, my quick eyes taking in the lace bedspread, the soft white lambskin on the floor, the huge oak wardrobe and the pink towelling gown that hung from the door. So this was home now. I felt the tears begin to prick my eyes, still so close to the surface, and knew that I could hold them back no longer. Crouching down, I curled up into a ball on the soft white rug and let myself weep for my parents, my life and the place I would never call home again. The salty tears fell freely as I pulled my knees in tight to my chest, rocking back and forth trying to hold in the pain that seemed to be trying to burst free from my insides. I had to stay in control of myself and get a hold of my emotions. Who knew what would happen if I gave myself up to these powerful feelings?

  What would Marie do now? I thought, wishing she were here to tell me my next step, she always knew what to do. I closed my eyes as I pictured her now. My mother was the most powerful woman imaginable. She would always tell me it was really me who was the special one, but to cast eyes on my mother was to be awed. She was incredibly beautiful, with smooth raven hair and midnight eyes. Her skin had been so pale it was almost translucent, so perfectly smooth and flawless it took my breath away every single day of her life. She could command the attention of a room in a voice so sweet, so quiet, you would almost have to strain to hear it. But rather than be lost in the crowd, she was the one everyone saw.

  I, in contrast, was her polar opposite. My hair, a fine tangle of strawberry blonde, my eyes green on some days blue on others depending on my mood. Much like the weather I thought ruefully, glancing at the grey sky that matched my desolate state of mind seamlessly. My skin had none of the mystique of my mother's pale form. Neither light nor tanned, it lay in the in-between. She told me I was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A mother's eyes see us so differently from the rest of the world and I knew she was blinded by her love for me. It never failed to amaze me that we two could belong together, that I could be the fruit of such an angel.

  My sobs gradually subsided as I allowed myself to release the emotions I had been holding onto so tightly, confident that I wasn't close to losing control of myself. I stilled, breathing in and out slowly, feeling suddenly drained from sobbing so hard. It felt good, some of the tension had left me. I rolled onto my back, stretching out as I looked up at the strange shape of the polished brass light fitting. The flood was over for the moment, but I knew it wouldn't be long until I was drowning in the pain once again. I stood up, looking out of the window again, not surprised to see the heavy black clouds rolling across the sky now, the first drops of rain beginning to fall in quick succession. “So much for bringing the sunshine with me,” I muttered, grabbing my backpack and heading to the bathroom. I washed my face with cold water and changed my clothes quickly. Once I could be sure that I wouldn’t fall apart again, I headed downstairs for dinner to find Aunt Ivy waiting anxiously for me in the kitchen.

  “Oh there you are dear, I hope you are feeling more refreshed now?”

  “Yes thank you, much better.”

  “I must say, your photographs didn’t do you nearly enough justice. You are quite a beauty my dear.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know about that Ivy... Sorry, Aunt Ivy...” I corrected quickly as she threw me a chastising glare. “My mother was the beauty in our family.”

  She tutted, shaking her head as she served me a plate of spaghetti bolognese, gesturing for me to eat. “So,” she said as she took a seat across from me, looking as if she had something she was desperate to ask. “What are we going to do about your schooling Missy? We can't have you getting behind. What year are you in now anyway?”

  I sighed inwardly. I had hoped that this wouldn't occur to her, I didn't want us to fall out on my first day under her roof. Unable to see a way out of the conversation, I reluctantly decided to just stick to answering honestly. “Um, well actually, I've never been to school.”

  “Excuse me? You're fifteen years old – how have you never been to school?”

  “I was home-schooled, well actually, home-schooled is a bit strong, I suppose the correct term would be unschooled,” I said, watching her face turning a strange shade of white. She looked appalled.

  “Can you read?” she sputtered.

  I chuckled. “Of course I can, I had plenty of books at home, I love to read.”

  “Oh...”

  “And I really don’t think a school would be the best place for me now. My parents wouldn’t have liked it,” I said firmly, seizing my chance to be assertive as she dealt with her shock. In fact my parents would have been horrified at the thought. They’d had strong misgivings about the whole institution, which they voiced loudly, some might say obnoxiously, whenever the subject arose. But, on top of their disdain for organised education, I knew their reason for keeping me close was much bigger than something as simple as sticking it to the man. I didn't belong in that world, they wanted to keep me safe, or so they said. I always knew they w
ere protecting others from me, not as they would have had me believe, the opposite.

  I shook my head, clearing away the memory. Aunt Ivy was staring at me in stunned silence. The kitchen was, like the rest of the house, far too hot. I began to feel the stifling claustrophobia that had surrounded me earlier, and quickly stood up, heading for the door. “I think I'll head out for a walk, check out the area a little bit,” I said, pulling open the door.

  “But it's nearly ten o’clock Oriah, it's pitch black out there. Go out tomorrow,” Ivy insisted, her voice horrified at the very thought. Feeling like I had fought enough battles for one day I decided to back down this time, nodding my head in agreement.

  “Okay Aunt Ivy, maybe I'll just have a shower then,” I said, turning to head for the stairs.

  “That’s right dear, just make yourself at home,” she replied absently. “I'll be going out to lunch with some friends tomorrow so you will have to entertain yourself I’m afraid.”

  “That’s no problem,” I replied quickly, relieved to have the day to myself. “Goodnight then, and thanks again for letting me stay.” She nodded, tight lipped and I wondered how long it would be before the issue of school was raised again.

  I stood in the shower enjoying the sensation of the hot water rushing over me as I tried to come up with some sort of plan. I had no idea what to do next, but I knew that I didn’t want to stay here for long. I refused to accept that this was my life now. Ivy seemed nice enough, though she was clearly lost in her own world, but I just didn’t belong here. I longed to get outside amongst the trees. Through the stream of running water my sharp ears carried the sound of her voice up from the kitchen as she chatted on the phone, barely pausing to take a breath.

  “Yes she's here now, she's quite a strange girl, there is something about her. I just can't put my finger on it...” she pondered.