Last Trip down Memrie Lane

Chapter 6
Chapter 6

6

The darkness around her was fading. Almost like waking up, things swam into focus. A strange feeling overtook her. She didn’t slowly wake up and wipe grogginess from her head. It was as though she had already been awake for a while and she had just now gained consciousness. The first thing she saw when the haziness of the world around her had cleared, was a small face looking up at her.

Two large, wide brown buttons were stitched yarn mouth. Harley saw her arms out in front of her, holding up the doll’s arms in a want-to-be-hugged sort of way. She pulled the doll close and hugged her.

For some reason, though Harley was still scared, confused, and as far as she could tell, alone and in the very wrong place, she didn’t feel the need to call out for help or try to figure out was going on. She had a heady sense of concentration, all he focus directed towards the doll which she was now hugging fiercely.

“Why do you always play with that one?” Said a voice behind her.

Harley turned her head around to look at a girl sitting on an ornate chair in front of a tall mirror. She was brushing long golden hair from a sour but youthful face. Harley got the distinct sense the she knew the girl and had seen her face many, many, many times even though she had never seen her before.

“Because,” Harley said, without really knowing why or how she was saying it, “She’s my favorite.”

Harley could feel that some time had passed. It seemed as though years had passed without her knowing. The girl in front of the mirror glanced at Harley in the reflection for a moment before letting out a sigh. “She is so ratty, Bella, why don’t you play with one of your others? They are so much nicer.”

Bella? Harley thought. That wasn’t her real name. Her name was Harley but she didn’t feel the need to correct the girl sitting at the mirror. For some reason, being called Bella seemed natural. She felt as though people had been calling her that for years. Harley drew in a deep breath and looked down at the doll in front of her. “Because the other ones aren’t fun, sister,” she said aloud, and calling the girl “sister” didn’t even feel strange on her tongue. Of course she was her sister. They had been sisters for years. But how did she know that?

Harley looked down at the doll sitting on the floor between Harley’s stocking-covered legs. Delicate shoes capped Harley’s outstretched feet. The skirt of a pink and white dress was puffed up around her on all sides as though she had sat down in a hurry, trapping the air underneath her like a parachute.

The doll looked up at her with blank eyes and that carefree smile. She loved this doll. She made it herself. All her other dolls were made of porcelain and they were hard and stared with disturbing eyes at her. She liked this one the best. She had named her “Molly”. She could hug this one and not hurt it. The other ones were too delicate to hug.

“Be that as it may,” her sister continued heavily, fluffing powder onto her cheeks with a cotton ball, “you should stop your playing. We only have a few minutes before your ceremony starts.”

Her ceremony. How had Harley forgotten? Her parents had been going on about this for a long time. But she still felt as though she would rather spend her time here, on the floor of her room playing with Molly than bother with boring ceremonies. “Why do I have to?” Harley asked.

“Bella, just you wait,” her sister said with a frustrated sigh, “You’re going to learn a lot. You’re going to be special and you’ll love it.”

Just at that moment, a sharp knocking sounded through the door, and a voice from outside called out, “Girls? Are you ready? May I come in?”

“Yes mother,” they called together.

The door creaked open and in walked the woman who had picked up Harley and held her close only a few moments ago. Yet Harley showed no fit of surprise or wonder over the woman’s entrance. This seemed perfectly normal and her mother’s face absolutely familiar. The woman gave one glance at Harley and her look turned to mingled frustration and motherly care. “Oh dear Bella,” she said, rushing over to Harley and lifting her up by an arm, “How many times must I tell you not to sit on the floor. You’ll dirty your dress, and on a day like today we can’t afford to have you looking like someone who rolled around with the pigs. And put that thing away.”

“I do not look like I rolled around with the pigs!” Harley said loudly, stamping her foot. She didn’t car3e much that her mother was treating her like a child or even that she was only about half as tall as the woman. “And Molly’s not a thing! She’s my dolly!”

“Well then put Molly back. It’s time for both of you to come downstairs. The ceremony is about to begin.” Grumpily, Harley trotted over to her wall and placed Molly in an open spot on her shelf with the rest of her dolls. “Now then, Ellya” she said turning to the girl on the chair, “you head downstairs first and take your place. Bella you walk with me.”

Ellya rose from the chair and walked out of the room leaving her mother and sister behind. Harley clasped her hands behind her back and twiddled her toes on the ground. “Why do I have to?” she asked her mother, looking up into a pair of beautiful eyes.

Mother walked over and took Harley gently by the hand. They walked slowly from the room and out into a very familiar hallway. “My dear Bella. You are a Memrie. You have potential that needs to be discovered. Today is the first day of many discoveries for you. You will love discovering yourself as I did, as your father did, as your sisters and brothers did.”

Harley rolled her eyes. Of course, once again she was compared to her family. She was the youngest and she always felt that she had a reputation to live up to. But still she kept walking, down the stairs and into a large living room with high blue velvet curtains stretched across the windows.

There was a large crowd of people in the room. Her family members were standing in two lines facing each other, creating a path through the room for Harley to walk down. It was a little scary.

Her mother took her place at the end of one of the lines, and then Harley, remembering as best she could what she was supposed to say when she needed to, walked down the path through the room. Two very, very old people were standing in front of the fireplace. The man had so many red warts he looked like an over-cooked and blistered sausage. The woman’s face was so wrinkled she gave the distinct appearance of a pillow which was left crumpled in a pile for far too long.

Harley snickered a little. Her grandparents were always so funny-looking. And rightly so, they were almost four centuries old.

“Bella Rosaline Diane Memrie,” said her grandfather from beneath a heavily-warted nose and holding up his hands high making his long dark sleeves fall down like long black curtains, “We, your family, as well as the ministers and mistresses of the High Order of Sonoria gather here today to welcome you as one of our number. Blood of our blood you have always been, now power of our power you will share.”

He spoke to Harley and the room at large. This was, Harley had been told, typical custom. Her grandfather continued.

“On this night, Seventh day of the Sixth moon, and the marking of your tenth year in this world, you will begin to embrace your true self.” He held out a long and gnarled hand and the flames of the candles in the room flickered feebly before all dying with puffs of gray smoke. The flame of the fireplace seemed to roar brighter in the sudden semi-darkness. Her grandfather was silhouetted against the flame, but he soon stepped aside, and the large black cauldron which had been bubbling silently on the fire, slowly slid out from within the flames, levitating lazily to rest at Harley’s feet.

She stood at its side, and her grandfather moved to the other side, standing across from her, the large cauldron between them. Harley could feel the heat from the iron pot radiating from it.

“Now, Bella. Place your hands to the water and recite your lines. Do not flinch, and do not stir until the process is complete, for the spirits and powers can sense weakness.”

As scared as Harley was, she didn’t dare to cry or contradict or question or run. She simply lowered two bare hands into the surface of the bubbling water.

It wasn’t hot but it felt to her hands as though it was made of energy. It prickled and vibrated against her fingers, and even though the bubbling ceased at the moment her hands broke its surface, she could still feel the water humming with power. She cleared her throat and recited the lines she had been forced to remember with all the courage she would muster.

“Oh noble and strong spirits of Sonoria. I, Bella Rosaline Diane Memrie, fourth child of Randolph and Madeline of the line of Memrie, do ask for your strength to pass to me and grant me the strength of your will. Let me learn from you and be guided from you, and let me grow in your image.”

The water then began to bubble again and it in an instant it became cold and thick. But Harley did not remove her hands from the cauldron. Nor did she flinch. She held her hands in place and she could feel a kind of strength enter her body through her hands. Then the firelight went out and for a minute the room was plunged into total darkness.

Then the candles and the fire in the hearth slowly faded into life again. Harley, still holding her hands in the cauldron, felt her grandfather’s hand on her shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked at her grandfather who was reaching over the cauldron. Beneath the warty face and hooded cloak, Harley saw that he was smiling.

“Good child, you may remove your hands” he said. She did so, and he placed his hands on her cheeks. She felt a little tingle against his fingers. Then, after a few seconds, he removed them and looked at her in the eyes. “Transubstantiation,” he said with a smile, “that is your gift. You will earn the ways of changing things from one to another. Not since James Elias Memrie has a member of this line had this power. Learn it well, sweet one.” And he smiled a deep caring smile.

And all of this seemed both terrifying and routine for Harley. She didn’t know what was happening, but it didn’t seem strange to her. Why was she so young? She was she in this room with these crazy people and this weird cauldron? Why did everyone think she was Bella? Why was she not bothering to correct anyone? And why was she looking back at this ancient man, returning the smile he gave her while the people who claimed to be her family stood around and applauded?

Then, once more, the room faded to darkness and Harley lost all knowledge of the world around her.