I can't believe it's done. Well, almost... It's in the final stages of editing and critiquing, but so close to being published. Stay tuned...
Chapter 1:
The nighttime noises were soothing.
The waves were quietly lapping against the shore as if the ocean were
settling down for slumber. The sprinkling rain pattered on the leaves
outside. The smell of salt, earth, and flowers glided past in the
breeze. Calming, cool, comforting. But
she couldn't sleep. Her body was on edge, anticipating something.
It had been this way for the past week. Exactly seven days since
she met the haole man on the beach.
He had done
nothing wrong. Actually, he was very nice and helpful. He came to
her rescue when her basket of fish fell on the sand. The kids playing on
the beach along the shoreline laughed at her and her brother as they scrambled
to rinse them off and put the fish back in the basket. They were very
successful that day and the basket was filled to the top. That much fish
would feed them for a week and they would still have some to sell.
Her short
mu’umu’u was faded from the original red color to a pinkish hue and the flower
pattern had turned into dull blues, greens, and purples. The edges were beginning to fray again. No matter how many times she tried to sew the
ends of her sleeves, neckline, and hemline, eventually the stitches would come
out. The mu’umu’u fit snugly on her slim
frame and she knew she would need another dress soon. She began to mentally calculate how much
material she would need to make another dress and how much it would cost.
Her long,
wavy, dark brown hair was always pulled up in a bun. No matter how tight she pulled her hair back,
short tendrils would escape and fly around her face and neck as she
worked. She brushed back a strand of
hair as she picked up the fallen fish and her wide, brown eyes filled with
tears as she heard laughter from some of the town kids. Her small, flat nose flared and her wide
mouth grimaced as she heard the rude comments thrown in their direction. She didn’t dare look at her brother because
she knew his face would be a mirror of her own.
Kids can be very cruel with their words but the haole man put a stop to
that as he shooed them away and bent down to help them.
"How
much is your basket of fish?" He asked.
The
girl looked up in surprise and it took her a minute before she could find her
voice. "We're keeping some for food but I can sell you half the
basket for $20."
"Twenty
dollars?" The man looked shocked at the price.
The
girl swallowed thinking she just asked for too much. To hide her
embarrassment, she looked down quickly and began to pick up more of the fallen
fish.
"I'll
give you $100 for half the basket."
At
first she thought she heard him wrong. When she found the courage to look
up at him, she saw him smiling and holding out a one-hundred-dollar bill.
She
gulped and told her brother to quickly make a new basket to give the man half
of their catch. As her brother ran to pull a coconut leaf off of a nearby
tree, the girl looked at the man from the corner of her eye. He was quiet as he
watched her brother run across the sand barefoot. Now that she was able
to observe him, she realized he did not look like the usual red, sunburned
tourists that sometimes found their way to the remote Hawaiian beach near her
home. This man had pure white hair but he wasn’t old. Maybe in his late 20s. She noticed his skin was not red or
sunburned, either. It was pale but you could tell he had a darker
undertone. Maybe that's why he didn't resemble a lobster like the rest of
the visitors to the island. She finally stood up as the last of the fish
was washed and placed into the basket and noticed that the stranger was quite
tall. She was always told her height was
unusually tall for a twelve-year-old but even she had to look up at this man to see his face. The sun was shining behind his head and she
squinted to get a closer look at his features.
He had high cheekbones and a prominent nose. It was not bulbous but very regal looking. He had a small mouth and thin lips that were
currently curled into a small smile. She
caught him looking her way and was startled by his eyes. They were a pale
blue color, almost translucent. She felt like she could see into his
soul. Or maybe he was looking into hers? She looked away quickly as
a strange feeling took over. She looked for her brother who had finished
the basket and was running back to them laughing and jumping. The man
looked away as he heard the jubilant noise and smiled. The girl noticed
how the smile never reached his eyes but seemed pasted on his face. Even
with the large sum of money, she wanted to complete the transaction quickly and
get away from this stranger.
After
they put the cleanest and nicest fish into the new basket for their customer,
they made the exchange and began to walk home. It had been a long day of
fishing but the girl was excited to show her grandmother the money. Maybe
she could buy some cheap material to make another dress. Her brother, who was walking a few steps in
front of her swinging the basket of fish, looked like he needed a new outfit as
well. She saw the small holes in his
stained, yellow t-shirt and the frayed hemline only falling to his thin
stomach. That’s when she realized he had
grown taller in the last few months. He
was two years younger than her but now that she looked closely, he was already
becoming tall and lanky. People
sometimes mistook them for twins. She
knew eventually he would pass her in height and as she looked at his faded
kikepa, it looked almost as worn out as her mu’umu’u. The money would definitely help them. But she couldn't shake this uneasy feeling
about the strange man with the pale eyes.
As
soon as they saw their hale, her brother began running with the basket. “Mama!
Mama! You’ll never guess what we
have!”
Their
hale was big enough to fit all three of them, two trunks, a small dresser, and
a small shelf that was empty. The floor
was made of smooth lava rocks packed and covered in a sand and dirt
mixture. The foundation was raised
because of the constant rain. The poles
that held up the roof were made of koa wood and evenly spaced so the hale had
an oval shape but you could walk in and out without the need of a door. In fact, there was no door. The thatched roof was made of pili grass that
was cut and put together like shingles.
The girl's grandfather was a fisherman so there was a fishing net thrown
over the thatches to keep them in place, especially when it was windy or
through the heavy rains. The net was
tied at intervals to the poles that held up the roof. The floor was covered with lauhala mats and
their sleeping mats were rolled and tucked into the spaces between the poles in
the ceiling. The different shades of
brown that made up the color of the house from floor to ceiling gave it a very
earthy look.
Their
grandmother came around the side of the hale carrying a small basket of roots.
The girl could see the dirt on her hands and her wet mu'umu'u clinging to
her legs. The purple taro were in the basket along with some of the
leaves. You couldn't see the taro patch but the girl knew it was just
beyond the mango and guava trees that grew in a half circle around the
hale. The girl's stomach began to growl
as she saw the soon-to-be cooked food. She realized she hadn't eaten much
all day as they were busy catching fish.
Mama
smiled as the boy ran up to her and showed her the basket of fish. He was
waving his hands around as the girl walked up and she saw him give their
grandmother something pale and smooth wrapped in a leaf. She also saw her
grandmother's smile fade and the fear start to creep into her eyes. Her
heart skipped a beat as her grandmother turned to look into her eyes and she
felt a jolt of lightening as she heard her grandmother's thoughts.
"Do
not say anything. Tell me everything that has happened today once your
brother is asleep."
The
speaking stopped abruptly and her grandmother's expression went back to her
usual smiling, caring face. The girl thought she had imagined the last
few seconds. But as they all walked to the cooking fire together, she
noticed a slump in her grandmother's shoulders. The old woman was tall
and strong. The tall, lanky build ran in
the family and you could see the remains of a young, vibrant woman. Her own mu’umu’u was showing signs of wear
and the girl thought about what colors would look nice on her regal
grandmother. She suddenly pictured her
in a pa’u made of a beautifully printed kapa preparing for a hula kahiko. Her poise and grace were clear and as the
chanting began, the girl’s vision faded.
She knew then that she did not imagine anything and anxiously awaited
her talk later in the evening.
The
food cooked quickly and she watched as her brother turned the fish on the spit,
her grandmother smashing the taro into poi, and her own hands working quickly
to cook the taro leaves with coconut milk. They feasted that night and
with full stomachs, they sat around the fire listening to their grandmother's
stories about their ancestors. This was a nightly occurrence and the girl
could relax as she listened to her grandmother’s low, alto voice as she spoke
and sometimes chanted the stories. She
began to feel drowsy and didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until her
grandmother gently shook her shoulder.
“My
little honu, tell me about today.” Her
grandmother tried to keep the expression on her face blank but the girl could
tell she was fighting a battle of emotions inside of herself. The girl looked around for her brother but
her grandmother, sensing her thoughts, pointed toward the hale.
"He
is already asleep. Now, tell me what
happened on the beach today."
The
girl looked at her grandmother and felt like she was seeing her for the first
time. Her hair, wavy like her own, was
sprinkled with white hair and pulled back in a bun. Her dark, brown eyes were wide and the skin
around them were showing signs of wrinkles.
Her nose was wider and her lips were pursed as she waited for the girl
to begin her story. The grandmother's long,
slim fingers were intertwined as if in prayer and she sat cross legged on the
ground with her back straight and tall as if bracing herself for the worst.
“Oh,
Mama,” the girl sighed and told her about the fish and meeting the strange,
pale, haole man on the beach. It felt
good to tell someone about this stranger and the uneasiness she couldn’t
explain.
As
she finished her story, her grandmother’s face began a rapid series of changing
expressions: pain, grief, sorrow, and finally fear.
“Go
to bed, little honu,” her grandmother said softly.
“Good
night, Mama,” she said and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. As she turned to go to the hale, she saw her
grandmother’s hands open to reveal a boar’s tusk with images carved into the
bone. Before she could make out the
images, the tusk was folded into the leaf and her grandmother turned away from
her.
She awoke with a start. She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep and
she thought she heard a loud, booming noise like thunder. She looked around the hale but her brother
and grandmother were sleeping soundly.
She could hear their quiet breathing and sometimes a soft snore but she
was the only one awake. Her mind went
back to her encounter with the strange haole man and the tusk in her
grandmother’s hand. When she asked her
brother about the tusk, he said he found it while he was weaving the basket on
the beach. He didn’t know what kind of tusk
it was but he saw the carvings and he thought it might be worth something. That’s why he was jumping and yelling when he
came back from making the basket. He
wanted to show her right then and there but something about the stranger made
him put the tusk away and stay quiet.
Her eyes began to feel heavy again
but then she heard a quiet, rustling sound.
At first she thought it was the rain on the leaves outside but the sound
was coming from inside the hale. The
walls were usually open to let in the breeze but with the rain, they had let
down the woven lauhala panels. With the
walls down, it was darker than usual and the girl’s eyes were trying to adjust
to the dark. The rustling sound began to
get closer and she suddenly felt something brush against her leg. Whatever it was, it had a strange ocean smell
and was walking towards her grandmother.
Terror stole her voice and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t call
out. As the shadow neared her
grandmother’s sleeping mat, the girl found the strength to sit up and slap the
floor, her voice seemingly ripped from her body. She wanted the noise to wake up her
grandmother but instead, she caught the attention of the strange shadow. It stopped abruptly. She saw the shadow turn and slowly make its
way back to her. As it got closer, she
was gripped with a fear that pierced her soul.
