𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚑𝚔𝚘

Chapter #1: Escape

Dark shadows rose up as Meelahko struggled to take a breath. Her body ached. She was unable to move. She tried to wiggle and stretch her legs, but her muscles resisted against the forced energy of restraint. She felt bound and claustrophobic. Her legs pushed upon her chest like bricks, creating unbearable tension.

Fear had no place in her life. And, with the radical imperialism of hatred spewing like wildfire, she knew she had to be strong, more importantly, she needed to figure out how to escape.

The box was made of wood, a crate specifically designed to entrap little girls. It had a distinct airy smell about it—a scent Meelahko was familiar with.

She struggled to lift her hand, but with diligence was able to move it to the right side of the crate. Meelahko scraped her pointer finger upon the wood, brought her hand back to her nose, and smelled her fingernail. It was the scent of the doki drum—a drum her papi gave to her on her eighth birthday. She remembered distinctly that day, as if it was only yesterday.

It was the Day of Wah-ahsh-ah-hii, the day when the light returned. That morning Meelahko had awoken to whistling wind rustling against her windowpane. Startled, she stood up and stared as if something had called her name. Energy surged within her as it swirled around; there was a sense of something bigger than her tugging at her insides. And though everyone was sleeping something nudged her and overtook her logic.

Meelahko moved her feet one step than two. She continued forward though her mind seemed hazy. It was as though energy had hypnotized her. She was aware, awakened and sensitive, but removed from repercussions.

Meelahko continued to walk forward. She seemed hypersensitive to her body sensations, sounds, and sight. Things seemed more vivid the closer she got to her window.

The sun had just begun to rise. The closer she was to the window the more she was able to see. The skies revealed iridescent yellows with hints of orange and red. It was as if the sun was a painter and the sky was her canvas.

When Meelahko finally made it to the window she could hear a soft humming rhythm down below. It reminded Meelahko of her mother’s heartbeat, the heartbeat she remembered as a baby; the gentle rhythm that consoled her when she was scared, hungry, or confused.

Meelahko leaned over the ledge of the windowpane. As she leaned down, the wind gently kissed her cheeks. Delicate notes of doki wood and dolash flowers intoxicated her being. The scent was heavenly.

Meelahko wanted more, so she made her way outside. As she quietly moved towards the humming rhythm, she could see a shadow standing near the ravine, but it was difficult for her to see exactly who was there. She etched her way closer. The shadow turned. Meelahko quickly hid behind the primeval tall beloved tree known as weegeewana as her heart raced. She couldn’t make sense of how she felt; it was a mix of fear, curiosity, and excitement.

After hiding for a few minutes, Meelahko quietly moved her head, just so slightly, to the side of the tree. Her eyes peered out. She could see an old woman. Her hair was long and white like the silver moon and her albino skin was rippled and wrinkled like the weegeewana tree bark. Her hand was painted with the bee-dah-mah symbol, a symbol representing the god of dee-kah-dor, the lover of creation. In her hand she held a miniature drum with a painting of Kan-Kan. Kan-kan was the serpent snake that ruled the underworld of Blood Jewel Hills, so her father once told her.

Meelahko noticed the old woman was crying as she bent down. She placed something in the water. And then she spoke in the ancient tongue of Ordean.

Meelahko had never seen this woman before, but her words touched her heart as if something deep within her being understood.

“She-mah-nah Dee-yah-koh”[The heart bleeds tears!] Meelahko whispered aloud surprising herself.

The old woman turned around again. Meelahko stepped out from the tree and revealed herself. The old woman smiled, as she wiped away her tears.

“Ahsh-ee-yah-no-bah!” she said. [Ah, my child! You know!]

Meelahko only stared at the old woman.

The old woman invited Meelahko to join her. Meelahko was hesitant at first, but gave in after seeing her eyes. The eyes were a rare color shimmering blue and green dependent upon the light. They seemed to transform themselves with the sun. They were wide, keen, and fierce and Meelahko could sense she was a good omen.

Meelahko walked to the stream and joined the old woman who began to sing. They sang in unison together as if they were old friends. It was as if time had stopped. The drumbeat began to fade until everything became silent and the old woman disappeared.

Meelahko stood face-to-face with the stream. Water gently burbled about. Standing alone now, Meelahko looked downstream. A shadowed body floated in the water. Everything was silent except her heartbeat.

That morning something happened within Meelahko. And though Meelahko didn’t understand it, she knew this visit of the old woman was a gift, a gift yet to be fully realized.

That evening, Meelahko’s papi surprised her with a doki drum, a drum only used during the Day of Wah-hash-ah-hii.

Her papi taught her the doki drum was the heartbeat of an ancient woman who lived amongst the forests of their old village, a sacred place only a few knew about—her family being one of them. It seemed strange to Meelahko; the crate was built from doki trees. Why, Meelahko thought?

Meelahko shifted her eyes to the slats nailed to the crate. They were spread wide enough that Meelahko was able to see through them. She shifted her head and peered out to look around.

There were dug-out holes within the brick walls and it looked like there were a few crates hidden within their crevices.

Meelahko thought she saw something move in one of those crates. She was about to say something when she felt a sharp pain on her foot. It was a quilokee, a buggy-eyed lime-green scorpion. Meelahko breathed through the pain, just like her mother always reminded her, it will help you regain your composure.

As the venom moved throughout Meelahko’s body, her mother’s voice became animated and louder. Luckily, it was only a tiny amount of venom; quilokee’s were known to be selective on how much venom to inject, depending on how threatened they felt.

Meelahko closed her eyes. She always found mommas voice soothing and she remembered her words, embody the power of your own mind, Meelahko; Ordean’s are smart that way. Those words echoed as she breathed through the venom now travelling throughout her body.

Meelahko felt unsure with her mother’s words of encouragement. Being an Ordean wasn’t easy; many misunderstood her family’s culture. The result of this misunderstanding was an experience of unfair treatment. Meelahko questioned her mother’s words.

If Ordean’s had powerful minds, why do they get mistreated sometimes, Meelahko thought, irritated.

“Yah-ko, mya-ahma? Yah-ko, dy-ah-ko nay? Ne-heesht, mya-ahma! [How momma? How could it help? I’m trapped Momma!]” Meelahko whispered out loud, frustrated.

The venom only lasted about a minute, if that, and when it finally weakened, Meelahko regained her astute awareness.

She looked around thinking about her home village. Meelahko had heard about other little girls being taken from their mommas, but she never thought it would be her. Being trapped in a crate was excruciating and Meelahko knew she couldn’t give up.

She began to strategize and recollected a game her friends played on occasion at the village; it was called capture the gofee.

A gofee was a leader who protected the forest. He or she would lead the group through expeditions and adventures by secretly selecting a hideout. The kids would partner with each other and strategize how to discover this hideout. There was always one kid assigned the task to be the gofee. He or she would hide in the woods, but leave clues on the ground as to his or her whereabouts. The first one to find the gofee would then become his or her partner in capturing the others. Together, they would go out and hunt the other children, tag them, and bring them back to the gofee hideout. The consequence of capture was that they were expected to build a new fort for the gofee. Once everyone was captured, they shared the responsibility of building the new fort that would become their new meet-up and hang-out location, until they got bored again. At which point, they would play gofee all over again and find another location to build their meeting place.

Meelahko thought about her escape and decided it was much like playing the game of gofee. She listened deeply to her internal compass of knowing and decided there was no time to waste. I cannot wallow and do nothing, she thought. And though her body felt pain, she decided to embody her mother’s words.

“Nee-ish-ah-sho! [I need to try]. Mya-ahma, oosh-bay-ahko! [Momma, this is for you!]” she said as she closed her eyes.

Meelahko envisioned a white light entering her body and visualized, just as her momma taught, to release trauma in the cell’s of her memory. Meelahko’s muscles began to relax immediately. It worked exactly as her momma always said it would; she had entered into her personal power, a power her momma always reminded her she carried inside. Slowly, Meelahko’s muscles began to let go of painful tension. Energy began to flow throughout her body as her muscles relaxed. She moved her legs slowly, until finally, they stretched enough so, she felt relieved. Meelahko lied there ingesting what she just learned about herself.

“Mahlo, Mya-ahma!” [Thank you momma!], she whispered.

How long Meelahko had been in the crate was hard to tell. It was as though she hadn’t moved for days. To Meelahko, it didn’t really matter; she needed to get out now.

The room was dark and damp; it smelt like stench, a mixture of sewer, incense, and sweat. There was one window across the room with bars aligned horizontally. Below the window was a wooden toilet and sink. Water dripped from the faucet.

As Meelahko continued to look around, a wide-eyed bakto beatle was flying about with its round belly protruded outward. Meelako could see tiny bakto babies wiggling, moving, and illuminating flashes of light from its bosom. The flashing light seemed to flow rhythmically, as though these babies were speaking in mores code. What could possibly be said from a beetle’s point of view? Meelahko thought.

Meelahko’s father always taught her, if a bakto beatle was found carrying an illuminated sac, it was because Wah-nah-koo-bay-yah was communicating to the receiver that a dark force was holding the light of the world as prisoner. Maybe, thought Meealhko, they are sending mores code to my family.

Something moved in the dark towards the toilette. It was a little girl crying quietly as she hurriedly walked past Meelahko. Her hair was braided and upon the crown of her head was a magnificent crown. Meelahko could’nt make out her face until a sunray peered through the window. Her face was round with high cheekbones that shown beautifully. And her eyes, as the old woman’s she saw at the ravine, they were of a delightful sea green shining within the dark as starlight. Meelahko was in awe with her crown. The arubia’s shined radiantly, the color of sunset red, and tazo’s glistened exquisitely, the color of an ocean blue-green, gems thought to be extinct.

The little girl continued to cry. She sniffled and whimpered as she sat on the toilette. When she was finished, she stood up. Blood was dripping down her legs.

Madam V’koona walked in.

“Get over here!” she snapped, grabbing the crown from her head. “I told you to keep your poise.” She grabbed the little girl, slapped her across the face, and shook her. “Next time, you do as I say!”

Madam V’koona picked her up.

“No! No! Please Madam! I am sorry!” the little girl screamed. Madam V’koona ignored her cries, shoved her into the crate, and shut the door. Meelahko could hear the keys jingle as the door locked.

“Next time, you submit to his request!” said Madam V’koona.

The light that shone earlier upon the little girl’s crown slowly disappeared as Madam V’koona shut the door. The little girl whimpered.

Meelahko felt horrible. She wanted to help this little girl and let her know she wasn’t alone, but how, she thought. Meelahko reminisced about her father and their excursions into the Valley of Arubias. This was a sacred place for her people, the Ordean’s. It was home to the chimahsha birds where the special rock garden was built. Meelahko learned to speak with the chimahsha birds by her father when she was only three years old. Every so often they would go out together to this special place and sing the little bird’s song. Every time they sang, a chimahsha would appear singing in unison with them. It was always a magnificent orchestra of music that brought great joy to Meelahko’s heart.

Meelahko decided she would try to communicate with the other little girl. She began to whistle, exactly like the chimahsha bird. The little girl stopped whimpering. Meelahko smiled and waited, hoping the little girl would reply back. A few minutes later, a whistle echoed. It worked, she thought. Thereafter, the two girls sang in unison like two chimahsha birds in a cage. This continued until finally the little girl fell asleep. Meelahko whistled and waited, but no song; only an eerily quiet.

Meelahko watched as shadows of people walked by the caged window near the toilette, as though nothing dangerous or peculiar could possibly be hidden within the walls of this old run down historical museum. Meelahko noticed the room reminded her of the same museum her grandmother spoke of many times before. When grandmother would come over to visit her dad, Meelahko couldn’t understand a lot of their adult talk, but she listened attentively anyways.

Meelahko loved her grandmother’s stories. Grandmother always said the museum wasn’t a museum at all, but rather a secret lodge of the Machumee people during the Gaching invasion. It was in this lodge and gathering that the Machumee’s strategically reorganized their power. She also said the Gachings and Machumee united together and in doing so, helped the Wahpahshee rise to become a distinguishable cultural power within Ordovi. The Ordovi historical books said the Wahpahshee were the Machumee’s, but Meelahko’s family believed the Wahpahshee were the Gachings in disguise, who either killed off the Mahchumee tribe or enslaved them after befriending them. There has never been proof that the Mahchumee’s were killed, but grandmother always reminded Meelahko’s dad, there is always an undercurrent of hidden facts in current affairs. Grandmother went on to suggest that when the Machumee’s disappeared, the Gachings transformed themselves into the imperial elites of Ordovi, who happened to be the Wahpahshee, and raised havoc on all the clans who resided in and around the city. They didn’t like anything different from them and they despised magic. To this day, the disappearance of the Machumee’s is shrouded in mystery.

Meelahko noticed there were large holes within the walls, similar to the holes holding crates. Based off grandmother’s suspicions, Meelahko decided these holes were the holding cells for the dead. It was a museum transformed into a morgue, hiding the murders of the Machumees, Meelahko thought, until Imperial Majesty Wanjeye took over. After that, he reorganized Ordovi turning all of the streets on the west side into a ghetto. That included the morgue, now turned into a holding cell for little girls being sold into servitude and slavery.

Here Meelahko was, locked in a cage like an animal, while the outside world was living their life. Meelahko wanted to scream, but it was best to stay silent.

Meelahko shifted her body so she could see better, but as her leg rotated around it hit a sharp nail. Blood came streaming down.

A little chimahsha bird flew into her crate then quickly landed on top of the door. Her colors were amazing, hints of pink, yellow, baby blue, and coral. Chimahsha’s were known to suckle on the Ordea flower and eat the bugs that tried to infest its pollen. The little chimahsha bird stared at Meelahko holding an Ordea seed in her beak. Meelahko stared back. The little bird dropped the seed and began to sing. Meelahko picked up the seed and ate it. As the bird sang, Meelahko’s body felt an immense inner peace. This of course helped her release unnecessary tension to find a more comfortable position in the wooded crate.

Meanwhile, a creaking sound came from the other end of the room. The bird became startled and flew away hiding in the dark. Meelahko stayed still. A sunray appeared in the distance as a door opened, but then quickly faded away. The sound of footsteps followed, until a young boy appeared, frantic and scared. He was breathless. Quickly, without too much thought, he dropped down and crawled into an empty crate below Meelahko.

A man dressed in black appeared. He was carrying a stick.

“Where are you, you little runt?” the man’s voice called out. “You can’t hide from me!”

Chazzy was the little boy’s name. He was an Ordovian too, from the Ore-doe clan, just not Ordean. Meelahko recognized him. They lived in the same village. He also had been forced into the Ordovi ghettoes, as Meelahko. He sat still making sure he was hidden. As he hid, something dripped down onto his cheek. He slowly moved his hand to his face and wiped it off; it was Meelahko’s blood.

The man saw Chazzy’s hand move. He jumped to the door, bent down, and reached in to grab him. Chazzy screamed. The man was about to pull him out when Madam V’Koona appeared.

“Don’t move!” she threatened.

The man stood up and tucked his stick under his arm before turning around.

“Step forward so I can see your face.” she continued.

Madam V’koona wasn’t in the mood, but neither was the man. Chazzy was his property and he wasn’t about to loose him. As he stepped forward he swung his stick at Madam V’koona. Madam V’Koona ducked down missing the stick by a few millimeters. She pulled out a dagger.

“Get out of here, you meandering scum!” she retorted.

The man slowly backed away until he got to the door. He pretended he was going to open the door but quickly turned around and tackled Madam V’Koona. As they wrestled about on the dirty floor, the keys dropped. Chazzy quickly pulled himself out of the crate, ran to the keys and grabbed them.

As Madam V’koon and the man rolled about the floor, they were unaware of the kids. Madam V’koona punched the man in the face. The man used his legs to push Madam V’koona off him. They continued to tumble on top of each other, while Chazzy maneuvered around them to run back to the crate. He crawled up on the edge of the crate to see who was above him. Meelahko grinned in fear.

Chazzy used the key to unlock Meelako’s door. Meelahko moved her arms over her head. Chazzy began pulling her out. As Meelahko squiggled her body, they both lost balance. Meelahko fell on top of Chazzy. Chazzy pushed Meelahko off and stood up. He looked back in panic to make sure Madam V’koona wasn’t able to see them. Meelahko tried getting up, but was having difficulty. Her legs hurt. Chazzy placed his hands underneath her armpits and lifted her up to her feet. Meelahko pulled Chazzy to go with her. She pointed to the window where the toilette sat. Chazzy looked up. Above the dirty toilet was a vent that was linked to the street. When they got to the toilette, Chazzy lifted Meelahko and she opened the vent. Once she crawled up and out, Meelahko reached down to pull Chazzy up, but Madam V’Koona pulled his leg down causing Meelahko to loose her grip. Madam V’koona tried to grab Meelahko’s arm, but Meelahko quickly retracted her hand and slammed the door on Madam V’koona’s arm. Meelahko’s heart was broken leaving Chazzy and the little girl behind, but she knew if she didn’t escape, she too would become a slave.

As Meelahko got up, she looked around. The man in black was running towards her. Meelahko took off running trying to blend into the crowds. But she stood out. She wasn’t like the other city-goers. She was an Ordea girl, an indigenous Ordovian who spoke only Ordea. Her hair was dark brown with red highlights and dreaded. She had dried blood on her leg and a dirty face. Meelahko was barefoot, wearing a tattered neutral brown hooded cloak with dusty balloon pants. She was a beautiful little girl in a place foreign to her.

She looked back. The man disappeared. Meelahko weaved passed a few buildings, all darkened in their stature with cracked windows, open doorways, and rooftops made of rotten wood. There were women out on the streets, beggars begging, and imperial soldiers walking within the crowds.

As she ran deeper into the Ordovi ghettos, she bumped into faces of despair. One little girl was fighting a man who was laughing at her as he pulled her dress up, grabbing at her. She was feisty like Meelahko trying desperately to get away. Women were walking about the streets as lost souls. They were zombie-like, as if they had been summoned by a dark force and hypnotized by its intensity. They must have been mothers, Meelahko thought. She couldn’t help but wonder if their daughters had been taken away too, just like Meelahko was. This was a different world. Meelahko just wanted to go back home.

Meelahko kept running until she made it to the Ordovi food market where she slipped and fell into a rock crevice. Exhausted, Meelahko stayed there hidden from view. She needed a break and decided to rest.

(𝙲𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷, 𝙹𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎)