Scars from the Other Side

My mother has always been obsessed with old wives' tales and conspiracy theories. From the boogeyman to Mothman, she loved each and every single one of them as if they were her kids.

It was awkward trying to compare to a cryptid, but every day I realize that there was a hidden meaning behind it.

While mom loved her cryptids, she hated actual reality. It was “lifeless”, as she called it. There was no motion, no color, no emotion. Everyday life seemed bland to her, no matter the significant events that would take place. The day I gave birth to my son, she didn't smile, she didn't even cry. She just sat there, with the same bored look on her face. It hurt to see that after all these years, I’d still have to compete with Lala land.

Right after that, I graduated from college with full honors. Summa cum laude in my class. And this was my PhD in Philosophy. Mom didn’t budge. She clapped, but that was about it. My husband tried his best to make me feel better about it. But, that had been my last straw.

You see, mom had this book of all her little tales, it was small and black. When i was younger the leather ends had gold metallic plating. But now the small book was nothing more than a couple of pages with ripped edges. But mom, she was still writing. She hadn’t stopped, even during the graduation dinner. When my father arrived, he held his new wife close to him. But he eyed my mom in disgust. “Even after 30 years, she still hasn’t put that damned pen down.”, he grunted.

“Dad, can we not do this here?”, I asked in irritation.

“I understand you don’t want to address this. But she’ll be writing in that book on her deathbed. While the rest of us are here, trying to live with the knowledge that we have to bury the shell of the former woman we all loved.”, he casually responded. His face was held in a sarcastic look as he saw my glare. My father knew that as a child, I liked mom's tales. But, I never knew how deep she would grow into them.

God, I wish I had known sooner.

For the first time ever, mom closed the book. She scanned the room and smiled. Her hand reached out to me, and I was already stunned into stillness. And she gave me the brightest smile I had seen in 30 years.

“Eventually, you’ll understand. You all will. I can’t explain right now, because I believe I’m already 20 years too late to explain it. But, hopefully, when we meet on the other side, you’ll understand. “ and just like that, she closed her eyes.

And she never opened them again.

Devastation had already set into my heart, and my body shook in anger and grief. My mother had died of an aneurysm, right in front of us, at my graduation dinner. Almost instant death.

I cried for what felt like days, but I cursed her name over and over. I cursed that book, I cursed Dad for giving up on her, and I cursed myself and this world for taking my mother away. Hadn’t I seen the stress of being a single mother? Hadn’t I realized that I had pushed my mother into that corner, with excessive neediness? Into that corner, where her book was her only comfort?

Am I crazy to think that I was responsible for her death?

If I was, I’d tell you that I got it from my mom.

But the truth was, neither one of us was crazy in the first place.

When I finally could move from the hospital chair, the doctor came out. He tried to console me, but I can see in his eyes, how sunken inside myself I was. He swallowed and handed her book to me. And all he could say was, “I think you should see this..”,

{The Next Day}

I didn’t read the book that night. I went home with my family and tried to resume what should’ve been a celebratory day. My husband and I didn't go through with our plans that we had had for that night. Instead, we just sat in the darkness of the bedroom, taking it all in. I wouldn’t hear my mothers humming in the morning, nor her cheery little song.

[“When the angels call me home, I know I’ll be okay. When the angels call me home, I know what they will say. They’ll say hey, hey, hey, hey, hey you did your best okay? Everyone makes mistakes! Everyone makes mistakes... But never wait wait wait, wait, wait, for there's always another day..” ]

“That song was kind of eerie, don’t you think?”, my husband asked as he turned to me. The silver from his wedding band glowed in the moonlight, as his hand smoothed itself over mine.

“I guess... It was just Mothers way of handling getting old maybe?”, I answered hesitantly. As I wasn’t sure myself. “Maybe, you should read the book. I think, if you can understand her better, it will help your grieving process.”

“James, I don’t want to read the book. It drove my mother insane, it’ll probably do the same to me. “

“No, it didn't drive her insane. Life did. And she found solace in that book.”

“James, listen to me-”

“All I’m saying is, you always tell me you grew up without your dad and your mum. And now your dad is across the Atlantic ocean, and your mother is 6ft under. I don’t want to see you suffering from this mess anymore, and you won’t go to therapy. Please, please, read the book. Even if it’s just the first page.”, James pleaded.

We argued that night, and eventually, it ended with him sleeping on the couch for the night. To which, around 1am, I found myself joining him on said couch.

I didn’t want to say he was right, but I myself feared what could be in that book. However, for the sake of my marriage and family, and so that I wouldn’t repeat her footsteps, I mustered up my big girl panties and read it for breakfast.

The opening page was blank, and on the other side, in smothered red ink was my name, Elise.

Underneath my name, in almost small child-like writing, was the sentence “find your way back home.”

The moment I read those words, I had unleashed something I didn’t know. The book began to turn and restore itself to its original being. The golden metallic plating reformed itself onto the old worn leather and said leather began to return to its older state looking brand new fresh from the shelves. I screamed and dropped the book. Watching it reform itself on the floor, as I held my feet in my chair and screamed.

James came running the moment he heard my scream, “What is it?! What happened?!”, he yelled to me. I couldn’t speak. I just pointed to the book that had finished reforming itself on the floor. James blinked. “ Elise, are you beginning to lose your marbles? It’s just a notebook..”

“No James! Remember that thing was old and tattered! And now all of a sudden it looks BRAND NEW? James, I’m telling you I saw it spring to life and FIX ITSELF !!!”

“It still looks old and tattered to me, it's barely hanging onto its edges. I think you just need some water and to take your time getting through it.”

“I’m telling you what I saw, and you refuse to believe me.”

“Just like your father refused to believe what your mother saw. It happens, and we have too to protect you.”

“DON'T YOU DARE BRING THEM INTO THIS”

That was when we both heard a slam. It was loud. It was on the ground. We both looked over to the notebook. It floated in the air for a second. And slammed itself onto the ground once more.

James' face grew pale and our scared eyes met each other. “J-James?”, I whimpered in fear.

He held his hand out quickly and motioned for me to come over to the other side of the kitchen to him. I did so quickly and stood under his protection. The book floated again, and this time slammed itself onto the table.

And then we heard it.

“What do you wish to know?”

James and I looked at each other once more.

“Should I call the police?”, I whispered to James.

He firmly shook his head, fear still in his pale face. “They wouldn’t believe us even if we were God himself,” he whispered.

“You wish to know who God is?”

“James, the book is talking to us.”, I whispered as tears brimmed on my face.

“Yes. I am talking to you. It saddens me, you do not remember me, Elise.”

“W-what do you mean? Remember you? I remember you as the thing that drove my mother insane!”, I responded in a fit of tears.

“This is where you are wrong Elise, your mother was never insane. In fact, she was more than sane, she was enlightened.”

“Oh sue me, she was so enlightened she didn’t even smile when her own grandchild was born?!”

“That's because she had already met him.”

There was a cold silence between the three of us. And then the book opened a page.

“Do you wish to know how and when she met your son? Or, should he retell the story?”

“What games are you getting at book?!, Timothy barely even remembers Victoria, so there's no way he’d be able to even join in on this silly game. What demon are you so I know what to tell the church?!”, James antagonized the book. But instead, all he got in return was a laugh.

“Timothy, unlike the two of you, is still connected to the other side. He knows more about Victoria than either of you. And I am no demon, in fact, I am the opposite. I am an Angel.”

“An angel in a book, riddle me blind I guess..”, James muttered.

“Not just any book. This my child is the book of life. I have all knowledge of everything across the cosmos, in existence. Of every scar on your body, from this life and the next. Elise, tell me, do you remember the day your dad taught you how to ride your bike? ”

“My father didn’t teach me. The neighbor's kid did, because every time I’d fall off, Dad would grow so angry and irate at me that I would cry. So he had the neighbor's daughter teach me.”, I responded almost autonomously. Something in me had buried that memory, and yet here I could remember it as clear as day.

“Do you remember what she told you when you finally could ride?”

“She told me it was just like spreading my wings, all I had to do was-”

“Fly.”

At this point, I could feel tears streaming down my face. As my face had gotten so cold in fear, that I hadn’t felt them before. But now, my face was hot. James pulled me into his arms and the book began to float in front of us. I could see images of what looked to be a small girl, riding her bike. But behind her, there was an angel pushing her. Another small child, which looked to be a small boy, pushing her back and holding her upright.

“That was the day you and your son had first met. And also the day your mother had met him too. You wondered why you never saw that girl again. That’s because that was him, helping you, in another body, from another lifetime.”

I wiped my tears quickly, awed at what I was hearing. But I still could not believe what this talking book was saying. “My mother used to talk about conspiracy theories, and cryptids, she wrote them inside of you right?”, I asked as I reached out to grip a page.

“She never wrote anything in me. In fact, everything was written by me alone. She’d often ask me about those things. And I would tell her if they existed or if they didn’t.”

“So what's the truth?”

“There are a lot of theories that existed. But not anymore. No, humanity has changed a lot. It has drained this Earth of everything that was built into it. So great nations like Atlantis, wouldn’t even thrive in today’s world. In an old lifetime, they existed. But with every close to each lifetime, we bear the scar of old in the new one. We do not learn from the scar, but rather we see it as a hideous thing, and instead of trying to do better, we try to forget altogether. And move on. Your mother wanted nothing more than for you to find your way back. As this book was yours before it was hers. To see life for what it used to be. To teach the world, that humans can do good by each other, by the environment. It’s built into your souls, and every life you return to, you return for a reason. You do not exist to suffer, to cry, to fear, you exist to live to the highest quality you possibly can. To learn more about yourself, so that in the next life, when you look at the scars from this one, you will smile, and you will remember the great lessons that Spirit has taught you. All of Atlantis, be it submerged under the oceans now, all of its people still walk and live. As we were once its people. Just as we were once the people of other great mythical nations. We have forgotten the ways of old and lost our way. Thinking that one life is all we have when in reality, our lives are finite. We are our Ancestors, and our Ancestors are us.”

“If this is true, why would you want to teach this to a child?”

“Because children can see the other side. They can see the past, future, and present all at once. When you were little, you’d speak to spirits of old, you’d ask father time to speed of time so that you’d get out of school quicker, you’d ask the forest spirits to guide you home, and you’d ask the spirits of your home to play with you. These were things you did unknowingly, instinctively. As every human child has “imaginary friends”. But these friends are nowhere near as imaginary as we believe. When you found me, you were being given a blessing from the heavens, so that you would one day see the scars from the other side, and wake the rest of humanity up from its deep ego slumber.”

“And what if they don't listen?”

“They will. Humans crave to know why they exist. Bring meaning to the otherwise thought “meaningless”, and you will have the attention of billions. Force them to acknowledge their wounds and their scars. To remember the past is to strive for the future.”

I slept differently that night. As if something that had weighed so heavy on my chest was lifted. And when I closed my eyes, I could see what the book meant. My dreams were static at first but became so clear it blew my mind. I was looking down at myself, I could see myself sleeping, see my chest rise and fall as the air was blown out of my nose. I could see that James had fallen asleep watching tv and that Timothy was asleep in his bed. I walked to the kitchen and stopped quickly in my tracks. There where the book sat was my mother.

She smiled. “You’ve found your way back Elise. I’m so proud of you.”, she said warmly while holding her arms open to me. I held her and for the longest time, I cried. I felt as if I was a small child again, and suddenly I was.

My small body pressed into my mother's tightly, crying in grief and pain.

“Oh my little girl, don’t be so upset. I’m always with you. I just came to say one last thing before it’s time.” she reassured me, while holding up my chin.

I sniffled and stared into her eyes, a deep hazel with a brown ring that seemed to glow stared back at me.

“T-time for what?” I asked.

“Time for me to go to the other side. I put it off until you read the book, because everyone else felt as if, you deserve answers before we put you on the path of fulfilling your destiny.”

“M-my destiny? Answers? Mommy what are you talking about? “

“Elise. I was a bad mother. I got so obsessed with seeing into the future, that I forgot my past. And most importantly, I forgot you in my present. I wanted to apologize and tell you that I loved you and every moment we spent together, I wanted to experience 100 times over. As far as your destiny, it is up to you my dear, but you have to inform the people of what is out there. So many people are taking their lives, losing their lives, every day because of a lack of direction. Our ancestors want to guide us, back home, back to where we were ourselves. Happy and full of joy. You and only you must use the book and tell the world of the wonders that existed and still do. You must bring color to our world again. For the sake of future generations, and past.”

At this point, I had returned to my adult body. I sniffled and wiped my eyes as she explained. But I wasn’t sure if I was cut out to do this. And somehow, mother knew I was thinking that.

She smiled and pointed behind me, “if you ever lack the inspiration just ask little Timmy to help you”.

And there Timothy was. He was still small, his body looked the same as his normal 7 year old self. But this time he had vibrant beautiful wings, and his skin seemed to be made of marble.

He smiled up at me and took my hand firmly. “You are surrounded by love my dear, please, you must use the book to bring love and light to everyone else out there. Before it’s too late. Restore humanity to its former glory. Restore the Earth to its former self. And bring peace to an otherwise war-torn, pain-filled existence.” , she said before hugging me once more.

“Elise, you will always be the greatest gift I have ever received. Now take your greatest gifts, and do me proud. I will always be with you, I promise”

And I woke up.

I stood in the mirror in my bedroom, and as the moonlight casted a glow over my body, I started at every scar on my body. Every single one that I recognized, and every single one that I didn’t. And as I stared there were so many faces that would come to exist in the mirror and stare back. With each scar that I couldn’t recall a memory for, I recalled a past life for it. Because they were scars from old lives, from the other side. And each life came down to this moment, showing the world that our scars can save us from harming ourselves even more.

That morning, I submitted a small publication in our philosophy magazine. I was lucky enough to catch the eyes of a few hundreds, which went on to me winning $20,000. The book swore up and down that the money was fickle, and that there would be a lot more that came with opening the eyes of the world. And there was.

I could now see why my mother was obsessed with her old cryptid stories and wives tales. The more I saw in the book, the more I saw what fascinated her. She wasn’t obsessed with the existence of these things. But more so, remembering the lives she lived where she encountered these creatures. And how remembering her past lives, brought color back to her lifeless world. Like the scars from the past, our past lives transcend time, and bring us face to face with our experiences from the other side. To remember our truth, and our path, as humanity and as individuals. That is the evidence of growth. To fall, wound yourself, and to get up and keep going. To bear the wounds of our own ignorance, but also of our enlightenment , and to continue on in human individuality. To bear the scars of the other side, with honor and love. For we share these scars, with our highest selves. And our highest selves, will always guide us in the right direction.