Naturmalina

Pronounced: Nah-tur-ma-lean-uh

Pan always knew she was different somehow. There was always that slight aura that kept her from really being able to get along with other kids. A kind of wall. It was just a small thing—an ability, really. Barely noticeable, and not hard to hide.Just an ability to do a few magical things. Like trip the school bullies when they’re 20 feet away. Or creating an earthquake with a stomp of her foot. And then, there was the mirror. It was a small, hand-held, emerald-green edges mirror. It always showed a garden with bush sculptures. But now it was different, somehow. She sat looking at it and it seemed darker, to be dying. What was going on? She wondered.

A few days more and the hedges were shriveled, and black like an omen of death. The sky hung low, a dark grey color like thunderstorm clouds, just five times worse. Slowly, the hedges became walls, creating a maze of terrifying, inky, blackness. A place of impossibility.A world of coldness.A universe of death.

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Dead.Gone.Stabbed.Killed.Murdered.Dead. It’s all the same thing, really, I thought. The point was that he was dead and that I was free. After 11 years of imprisonment and watching my parents and then my city die, under his hands. He was a city killer. Ruthless, evil, and mentally twisted.Disgusting.Absolutely disgusting. I just hoped my city would remember me. That I would be able to fix it.

‘course, first I needed to get out of these horrid handcuffs. I rotated my wrists in the cuffs and winced. They were tight. Very tight. No chance of slipping out of them. I glanced around, looking for something sharp. Right, left, up, down… the sword! Of course! Stupid me. I lunged forward and turned around so as to grasp the sword (my hands were cuffed behind my back). I wedged the sword into a corner as best as I could, closed my eyes, swung my arms up, and brought them down on the blade. The wire cuffs dug into my flesh and tears rolled down my eyes from the pain. Sobs echoed around the empty room as I continued on my mission. I would get them off if both my wrists came off from it. My dark purple hair stuck to my cheeks and forehead as I swung up, hit the sword, and took deep breaths. Swing, hit, breathe; swing, hit, breathe.I kept going, praying to the Almighty to help me. Swing, hit, breathe; swing, hit, breathe. Ahh!! They were off!! I was free!! The dried tears on my face felt worth it and I rubbed my bright red, swollen wrists with my hands. The cuts stung from the touch of the cold night air. Dear Almighty! Of all the undignified things a royal women (a queen no less!) could go through! It was over now, though, I reminded myself. I grabbed a lantern and left the room, now beginning to smell strongly of blood. I walked down the stone hall of the fortress and found a window. Looking down, I saw I was on the second story. I pushed the window open and swung myself onto a thick branch of an oak tree next to the building. My dress ripped at the bottom as I climbed down the branches carefully, lantern in hand. He’d kept me well dressed, that was for sure, I thought as I bundled up the short golden train flowing behind me. Of course, he’d had visitors often, so I had to look nice and well taken care of. I quickly got rid of the memory of him and instead walled to the mouth of an alleyway of black walls covered with black roses. My poor country was in very bad shape. Poor, poor Naturmalina. And with wishful thinking, I called out to it as off days of my great grandparents:

‘Naturmalina! Naturmalina! Where art they beauty?
Where art they emerald forage? Thy golden blooms?
Returnith Naturmalina! Pray, answer they calling!’

Not even the thick air stirred in response. The world just remained dark, desolate…dead. Only my lantern cast light on where I was going and I stumbled slowly forward as if blind. The lantern swung back and forth with each step. I was trying to recall the map of Naturmalina my mother had showed me when I was young, for I remembered that in the center of the city was a flower that could not be destroyed. The soul of my world; the one part of it that could never be changed or broken. And it was this, I knew, that I needed to find. And so I set off through the maze of walls and black roses with their thorns pointing out at me, aggressively, like spears. I traveled on and on, striving and praying to the Almighty that I would find It. I turned a corner and ventured down, farther and farther. The path was much to long, I thought. It wasn’t spiraling in, toward the center, like it should. My heart fluttered and the lantern shook in my hand from nervousness and doubt. How was I to know which way to go? I had no map. Trial and error, I guessed and walked on slowly. It spiraled some, and I was beginning to hope and my steps became more eager, the adrenaline pulsed through me. I was near running and almost collided head first into a stone wall. Strong, thick, and very solid. My whole body sank and I slowly made my way back, trying to remember which alleyway I’d come from. I found one alley that seemed to spiral. It would hopefully go inwards, toward the heart of the city. Hopefully. I kept walking, the cold, foreboding air whispering to itself, saying things I wished to be deaf to. The words ate at me and a scary idea wrapped itself around my heart and mind. What if it couldn’t be cured? What if it’s been changed for ever? What if the city would always be dark and desolate and evil? The thought curled around me and squeezed tightly like a weed choking out a tree. I was shaking violently at the prospect. The terrible possibility. The walls seemed to close in around me. I gave a cry of fear and raced forward to escape them, as fast as I could .they closed even tighter. They’re going to kill me! I thought wildly. My body surged forward, thje wind lashing on my face. Then, like a ray of light, my mind cleared and I remembered my claustrophobia. I forced myself to stop and calm down, to slow my fast breaths. But as I closed my eyes to soothe my edgy nerves, I felt the cold cement of stone walls and the thorns of black roses pressing on my skin. I placed my hand on both sides, and pushed, as if I’d be able to moved brick walls. But my city was not dead yet, though evil, and the walls sprung back from my touch, as if they’d been burned. A small bit of relief washed over me and I glanced at the walls swiftly before taking off at a run again. If they we’re trying to kill me, I reasoned, then the flower must be here somewhere! And then, as I turned the corner, I saw it. A beautiful, elegant, flower, sparking white, floated in the air like an angel. I smiled happily and slowly approached it, taking in its beauty before reaching out and grasping it. Free. My city was free too. I thought.


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Pan was in the garden, hidden in the hedges, as she stared at the mirror. The picture inside it had changed. Instead, it was showing a beautiful white flower of no type she’d every seen before. The edges were pointed, and drooped down elegantly and there was no stem. It simply floated like a symbol of hope in the midst of the horrid darkness. As she watched, she longed to touch it, to just feel it. And as she put her hand out, she felt it go through the glass mirror and felt the soft, cold, petals of the flower as if touching a flower with morning dew on it. A cold breeze blew against her cheek and she realized she was no longer in the hedges. She was in the dark, inky world she’d seen in the mirror. But she didn’t feel afraid, for soft, slender fingers like her own were also holding the flower. The touch gave her a sense of security and she looked up into the eyes of a beautiful woman with dark purple hair and sapphire blue eyes. A companionship seemed to have already been formed, and they didn’t speak to introduce themselves. Somehow, they felt as if they already knew each other, inside-out. As they help the flower together, they already knew that their goal was to save the city, their city, Naturmalina. The woman took hold of Pan’s hand, and they set off, to where they some how, subconsciously knew they needed to go: the palace. They raced through the alley ways, and the flower grew brighter and brighter as they got closer and closer to the palace. Finally, they reached it. It’s pillars and walls and domes were black and covered in black roses. The pathways were overgrown with thorny rose vines. They tread carefully over the thorns, so as not to hurt their feet, and then raced into the palace. The inside, too, was dark, but the flower seemed to know it was coming home. It glowed like a white sun and they raced upstairs, to the long hallway. At the end of the hall there stood a mirror. They walked towards it, and as they got closer, the floor fell away to an abyss. They raced forward in the hopes of getting there. They had to! To save themselves! To save Naturmalina!

I held on to her hand as tight as I could. A younger me; a younger Ampanethea. She seemed to sense the connection too, despite being only 10 or 11 years old. We raced together toward the mirror to save Naturmalina. If only we could get through the mirror, we’d be save. We knew, somehow, that through the mirror was the place for Naturmalina’s soul. I put my hand on the mirror. It was solid. But it couldn’t be! We had to get through! The flower felt like it was positively dancing in my hand as I touched the mirror. The floor was just crumbling behind us. I pushed on the mirror as hard as I could. Open! Please open! Almighty help me! For us, for little Ampanethea, for Naturmalina! It broke. It just splintered under the force of my fingers. Relief washed over me and I pushed her through, and I was falling to nothingness. The scream of fear echoed through the hallway, but I couldn’t hear the words. I could feel all my bones crush underneath me like sandstone. Turned to dust. No pain, yet. I was still in shock and all I could think was that I hoped the young Ampanethea would finished the job. That she would continue on and bring my world back; our world back.

It was cold room. Bland, cold, and boring. Despite the ennui the room seemed to emit from its walls, Pan’s heart was thumping faster than normal. She pushed the wheelchair up the slight incline into the hallway of a room. She could feel Drowsiness trying to take over her mind and body. She fought it desperately, thinking of the poor woman in the wheelchair she was pushing. She was weak and nearly brainless. She just staid hunched over in the chair, her trembling fingers turning Naturmalina’s Soul Flower around and around. Pan pushed the chair a little bit farther, and the tiredness she’d felt increased double. Her eyes didn’t want to open again after she blinked and she shook her head, so to see that the way was blocked. Two horrendous guards with inch-thich body armor, very sharp swords, and metal helmets that covered their faces, making them look like automatons, stood in the way. They pointed their swords at Pan as she approached, and she stopped. She put the break on the wheelchair and walked in front. She glanced back and forth between the two guards. Two full grown men against a 10 year old girl and a frail, mindless, woman. She stood there, her hands on her hips defiantly, trying to think up a plan. She looked at them, and an idea came to mind. An earthquake. She jumped in the air, and fell back down, her knees bent, ready to create the worst earthquake ever. It seemed to happen in slow motion, as gravity pushed her back down. The ground came up oh so slowly and then the collision. She felt the ground tremble under the force and the whole building rattled. The guards were flown of her feet and Pan watched with grim satisfaction as they slammed into the walls, unconscious, and the door to the palace gardens was revealed.

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The whole world seemed to jolt me back to life. Wake up! It seemed to scream. Wake up! I felt my body arch out and light flooded into my eyes. Everything was clear and bright and beautiful. So much better than the darkness that had surrounded me since my fall in the palace. This place looked like bottom-floor hallway to the gardens. The gardens! Of course! If we put the Soul Flower into the garden, it would bloom and create more flowers and then the world would be right again. Thank goodness for Ampanethea. She stood as if frozen, in a crunched position, her feet planted firmly on the ground, her red hair blowing softly from the earthquake. In a sudden spurt of energy, I jumped out of the chair I’d been sitting in and lunged towards her. I grabbed her small hand and we raced outside, before the guards on the ground could revive themselves. We pushed through the door and I threw the flower into a special corner of the garden. Immediately, the world began to change. The black roses faded away into bright lilies, sunflowers, and daisies. The black walls winding around the city returned to their original forms as emerald green hedges. Outside was a beautiful white stallion with a handsome man in white and gold. He dismounted, left his horse where it stood and came up smiling.
“Hello.” He said his voice soft and smooth. His bright grey eyes were compelling. His blonde hair cut to precision. His immaculate outfit didn’t have a single stain on it. A dream come true, it seemed. He put one arm behind his back and held out his other hand. An offering—a question.
“Hello.” I said, eyes no doubt shining with wonder and excitement. And those gorgeous grey eyes….oh my. I stared into them, letting myself get lost into the wonder of them. But as I stared, a change took over them. A hardness of smugness and power turned the liquid grey into marble. I came out of my trance abruptly. The body and outfit and face were no long attractive because those eyes held such horrible things. I remembered my chaining and as I looked, a spare thing my captor has said floated forward: ‘Of course, when I’m no longer able to watch over your poor country, my son will be most capable. Very dashing young man. Blonde hair…grey eyes….military formation about him…altogether perfect for the job as well.’
The memory floated away and my eyes slid down towards the ground, when by his side two fingers stuck out: the hand behind his back. But as I looked at them, I notice something: the middle finger was on top of the index finger. Crossed to bring bad luck. Anger welled up in me and without thinking about it, my arm swung back of its own accord and I hit him full on the cheek with all the strength I could muster. It was enough, and he was thrown onto the ground. His head hit the ground with a horrible thump, and he was out cold. His chest rose and fell, and I called two guards (how lovely to be in charge of them again!) and they hauled him off to the prison I had spent the last 11 years in. I flinched away from the memories, and a small hand slid itself into my loosened fist. I looked down. Apanethea looked up at me with understanding eyes. I smiled and her, and she looked towards the entryway to the garden. It was a heart-shaped opening outline with vines and hedges.
“I must go home.” She said softly, and her voice reminded me of myself when I was nine. It was a childish, sweet, voice: soft yet high and gentle, so gentle. I smiled through a few tears brimming. We’d been through so much together over the day, that I was sad to see her go.
“Yes.” I said, softly, in the adult version of her voice, “Thank you.”
We walked hand-in-hand to the opening, and I knelt down to hug her. The 25 year old and 9 year old. The same person from two different worlds, together for one day to save one’s world. All of it ended with a hug. I let go and she put something sharp in my hand, closing my fingers over it so I couldn’t see.
“It broke when we fell.” She told me, and then walked back, waving once more before disappearing forever.

I opened my fingers after I was sure she was gone, and inside was a mirror in the shape of half a heart. The split wasn’t jagged, but instead straight and smooth. I closed my fingers over it again. It would go in my jewelry box, so I could see it every day.

The End

Inspired by Katey Perry's Music Video Wide Awake

Thanks for reading. :)

Sylvia.