Chapter 4 is here!

Hello dwellers of the reflection,

Curator M. here. General Balio is attending to some, well, disturbances in the Garden. So I am here to tell you that chapter four is available for your perusal... or as the General would say, for your reading. I hope you enjoy it. The story is getting tense.

                                     ____________________________________________

Day Dreams

“A Royals Royce, Dr. B. That’s what I’ll be driving next time you see me,” Star said as she reviewed the footage of their first moments in the cave. “I’ll be on the cover of every magazine. And best of all, no more car pooling with Maggie Peace.”

He closed a display case and moved to another, forceps at the ready. “Sounds like you have it all situated in your mind.”

“I do.” Star starred at the screen for a moment. “I have not been this happy since my mom was alive.”

“I’m sorry, Miss McKenzie. Do you mind my asking what happened to your family?”

“No, it’s ok. My dad left us when I was eight and my mom died when I was twelve. Then I went into foster care. I guess you could say I am a survivor.”

“Again, I am sorry for your losses. Let me say that I am so very glad that you came to my camp. You add sunshine. And without you, Esther would have remained hidden.”

All Star could say was, “Thanks.” She was not used to compliments.

A walkie talkie near Dr. Burnham crackled to life. “Dr. Burnham?”

He made his way to his desk and picked it up. “Yes.”

“No word of Ms. Ficus’ coming. But we heard rebel bands and sand storms closed the roads. Nothing in and nothing out of the region. She must be stuck and waiting somewhere.”

“Thank you, Jacburra. I’ll tell Miss McKenzie.”

“Ok. Jacburra out.”

Star looked at Dr. Burnham whose face tried to look cheerful, but his eyes did not miss the anxiety on Star’s face. It had been weeks since she talked to Ms. Ficus. She smiled a weak smile then kept reviewing the film on her computer. No one will forget me now she thought. Once Ms. Ficus gets here, my life changes forever.

She shook off her disappointment and pressed on. When she pushed play, the skeleton scene played before her on the screen. “Hey, Dr. B., have you seen that little piece of paper that the dead guy was holding?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he remarked while he kept pouring his attention over yet another scroll. “Perhaps it is in the processing room.”

“Thanks. I’ll give it a try.”

She hesitated at the door. A tremendous sand storm rocked the trailer town they called home. Star knew better than to brave one of these, but something inside her said to go. After nearly blowing past the door, she clawed at the sides finally reaching the door handle and entered with a bang. Sand fell from her clothing like a person coming in from the snow.

To her surprise Ibarred sat staring at a row of cardboard boxes. She tried to act calm, but his presence made her nervous. He had piercing brown eyes, which seemed to read her very thoughts. On top of that his head towered two feet above hers. “Hey, Ibarred. Staying out of the wind?”

“It is you who have stayed out of de wind for too long and now you are caught up in de whirlwind of your destiny … Hadassah.” His words, cloaked in a rough Iraqi accent, pounded her heart. With that he handed her a small plastic bag, marked 0101A and quietly left the trailer.

“Crazy old man. What is he talking about?” She sat down on Ibarred’s chair in the dusty trailer trying to figure out what was so interesting about the rows of boxes that he stared at. This soon lost her interest and she instead looked at the specimen in her hands. “What was so important about this paper that a man would die holding it?” The wind beat the walls of the trailer seemingly trying to answer her question. Instead of braving the winds to return to Dr. Burnham, she thought it safer to stay put until the worst of the storm moved on. The trailer heaved and sat still again, but Star’s attention stayed on the specimen in her hand. She found herself turning it over and over in her hands.  Without warning the trailer lurched forward. She tried standing to steady herself, only to sprawl face down on the floor. Her body slid across the floor and into the wall with the stacks of boxes. To her alarm, the metal office chair she just sat in plunged toward her, so she rolled to the side, just missing it. The sharp edge of the florescent light fixture scratched her back and shoulders as she realized the trailer was spinning violently and she was now on the ceiling. Boxes slammed against her petite body as they all turned inside the trailer. Papers, scrolls, and clay vessels flew around as if she were on the moon. She felt the wall brush by only to smash into the floor again. The chair, like a bad bully, crashed a foot behind her as the spinning continued. Its pace quickened and Star knew on the next turn the chair would hit her. She watched it roll into the air. If she didn’t do something fast it would land on her legs. The force of the spinning left her stuck against the wall, unable to escape its chase. Just as it came crashing down the walls burst open and the hot sands pulled her out of harm’s way, then all went black.

Star awoke in darkness and silence. Being unsure of her surroundings she sat still. Was she injured? No, everything felt all right. What happened? She remembered Ibarred handing her the specimen and then the trailer rolling. “Stupid sand storms. I’m probably under a foot of sand. She felt around with her hands. Instead of the smooth linoleum floor of the trailer, she felt rough stone covered with sand. The air felt cool and dry, but stale. “The trailer must have fallen apart when it flipped. I’ll just sit still until the guys dig me out. Ibarred definitely saw it happen.”

She waited several minutes more. No sounds of rescue reached her ears, so she began to call out for help. “Hello! Ibarred! Dr. Burnham! Guys! I’m down here…hey! Can anyone hear me?”

Still no answer, she paused. Maybe the storm was worse than she thought. Maybe it hit them too? Was there anyone left to help her? Now panic threatened to rise in her heart. An old voice raced across her mind, See, you are forgotten. Despair joined panic.

Just then she heard footsteps and saw a flickering light coming from far away. Soon she could see torchlight reflecting on the stone walls – she was in the cave. “Wow, that was some storm. Hey, over here, guys. Man, am I glad to see you.” The person carrying the torch turned the corner. I don’t remember the cave having a corner.

The man approached Star dressed in a simple robe and sandals. He walked right past her as if she were not there. In his other hand he carried a vase similar to the others Dr. Burnham and she found. Within several feet of passing Star, he stopped at the tunnel’s end to her left. There in the middle of the wall an opening had been carved in the same shape as the vessel he carried. The man carefully placed the container in the opening.

Next, several other men came dragging a wooden platform on skids like a sled. The platform had clay bricks and other large pots on it. They too walked right past Star.

She sat stunned at their strange dress. Then they began to speak; she recognized a few words as ancient Persian from Dr. Burnham’s teaching. This was enough of a bizarre day. She rose to her feet to ask them what had happened to Dr. Burnham. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where the professor went?”

Again they neither looked at her, nor stopped what they were doing. She approached one man to tap him on the shoulder. To her shock, Star’s fingers went right through to the other side. “What is going on here? Oh, I get it. I’ve hit my head, so now I’m having a hallucination.” She stood back deciding to wait this thing out.

The men mixed up a type of mortar and began to seal the vessel into the wall. Next, they stepped back several feet to build a wall in front of the other, a type of false ending, concealing the wall with the vase in it. As their work was nearly completed, another torchlight reflected down the walls. The men turned to address the one who approached and spoke to him in ancient Persian. Star stared into the man’s eyes who came. It was Ibarred. He too was dressed in the same strange clothing as the others, not his usual blue jeans and white shirt she was accustomed to seeing.

The men spoke with him for several minutes, sometimes pointing to the new wall, sometimes listening to Ibarred. She picked up a few words here and there -- something about a sacred scroll, protector, and enemies.

The men lugged the wooden platform away while Ibarred stayed with one young man equipped with a sword. Star recognized the sword and its sheath as the one they found in the cave. What did all this mean?

Ibarred handed the man a small scroll. Again she picked up a few words about protection, enemies, and life. The man stationed himself in front of the wall and Ibarred turned to go away. As he left though, he turned suddenly to Star’s direction. His clear brown eyes pierced her – he saw her! She stepped forward to follow him, but suddenly her left leg weakened underneath her, pain shot up to her back.  The man, Ibarred, and the cave all faded. She felt heavy and trapped. Hot sunlight blazed through cracks of crumpled boxes and walls which once held the trailer. Sand blew in from all directions.

“Miss McKenzie? Miss McKenzie, can you hear me? Are you all right?” Dr. Burnham’s concerned voice came through the muffled layers.

“Yes, I’m here! Down here!” She felt the weight of the rubble lift off her small body. She tried to get up, but sharp pains held her down. “Owe! I think I broke my leg.” She crumpled like the boxes and her voice drooped.  

“We thought we lost you. Thank the Gardener you are all right.”

“What! Thank the Gardener. Oh yeah, thanks for the broken leg.” Despite her pain, anger flashed through her words.

Ibarred came forward with the workers to help carry her to safety. “Without the mighty hand of the Gardener’s Helper upon you, it may have been death that greeted you instead of opportunity.” Star leaned back and closed her eyes. Perhaps it was all the confusion, or perhaps it was those eyes that knew everything, but Star wanted out. And out she went ...

                                     ____________________________________________ 

Check back next month for another sneak peek into book two of the Living Tale Series. 

Until then, 

See you on the inside!

Merry Christmas! Here's chapter 3

Drake here. We hope you on the other side of the reflection had a good Christmas. Inside the Book we celebrate something a little different and call it the Gardener's Day -- the day he came out of the Book and into the reflection. But I get ahead of myself. I nearly revealed a secret from the next book in the Living Tale Series. 


Perhaps I should change the subject. What am I doing...ah, yes. The reason I am here in the first place is to read you the next chapter in Star and the Book of Treasures. It is called Letters from Home. We get to meet Mr. Banks, Henley's dad, at last! 

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Letters From Home

Sergeant Major Robert Banks could not believe more than a year had passed since he was deployed to Iraq. He knew he had made the right decision to return to duty, he just wished that his tour of duty were shorter. He was a special ops mission leader, which meant he went places as a soldier that few knew about, not even his family. It also meant that much of the time they could not reach him by phone or letter. One of the few things that made his days bearable were the letters he received from his family. Although he had not received a letter for several weeks, he reread old ones whenever he could. This morning was one of the times he was able to rest and catch up.

He pulled out a wrinkled letter from the chest where he kept his personal belongings. This one was dated just after the new year. It read:

Dear Papa bear,

We were so glad to get your letter warning us that you would be out of communication over Christmas. As difficult as it was, we made it through the holidays. I hope by now you have received my phone updates about your father. The doctors say he is not any worse, but he is not any better. We visit him every day.

I wish I could tell you that Henley has his hero’s heart awakened, but he has not. After his first visit into the Book, he has been a different boy. Meeting the Gardener was the best thing that ever happened to him. Now though, all he talks about is buying the Getchu Lifestone collecting cards. I don't know what's gotten into him. If you get any advice from the Gardener about him please let me know.

Morgan, Jake, and little David are all doing as well as expected. Morgan and Jake Are as busy as ever. Morgan started driving to school last week. I've included some new pictures—wow, has David grown.

Well sweetie, I know you don't have a lot of time to read letters so I will stop here. I love you, we all miss you, and are very proud. May the Gardener's strength carry you today.

                                                                                             

                                                                            Love Julia

The sergeant major sat on his bed staring at the pictures of his family. A fellow sergeant major who was catching a few winks in the cot beside him rolled over and smiled at his friend. “You okay Robert?”

“Yeah. These letters, these pictures, and the Living Tale make what we do possible.”

“I know what you mean. Going into the Book every night and hearing how the Gardener is taking care of my family makes all the difference. How's your boy Henley? I know you've had a lot of trouble with him this year.”

“He is doing better. Thanks for asking. Since my wife wrote this letter I talked to her on the phone and she says he had his hero's heart awakened and had a snowball fight with the musical snow.”

“I've heard about those, but I've never had one myself. Maybe when I get back stateside I'll go have one with my kids… why the worried look?”

“I gotta a weird feeling about him that I can’t shake and I don’t have time to go into the Book to find out why. We leave in two hours on our next mission.”

“Where are you off to now?”

“We'll be tracking the same band of rebels we've been following for a week now. Intelligence indicates they want to take out the roads heading west. There too many civilians at risk if that happens. We’re going to get ahead of them and cut them off at the pass.”

“Go get ‘em cowboy!”

“There’s also a Brit named Dr. Bertrand Burnham out there that we’re supposed to check in on.”

“The archeologist?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s still out there?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“You think he’ll ever find what he’s looking for?”

“With the Gardener help, yes. Everyone finds what he’s looking for with him.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” The two men got up and started getting their gear together. “Hey have you checked your weather stats?”

“No, why?” Robert snapped shut a small case and put it in his pack.

“They say a real stormy season is starting. Winds will be picking up. I was talking to this one local in a village and he says his bones ache when the winds change direction.”

“And…”

“Well his bones have been aching so bad he can’t walk.”

“Winds of change, huh? Sounds right up my alley.”

    _______________________________________________________________________

We creatures of the Living Tale hope you have an adventure-filled new year. We are excited to bring you the next part of the tale in 2012. Until then you can still get Henley and the Book of Heroes at the LivingTale.com! 

See you on the inside!

Hidden or Forgotten?

Hello Living Tale Friends!

As promised here is chapter two of the next book in the series, Star and the Book of Treasures. We characters in the Garden hope you are having fun reading them. We sure have fun making them. 

_______________________

 Hidden

Star heard the phone ring on the other end; someone finally answered.

“Hello, this is Malori Ficus.”

“Ms. Ficus, this is Star.”

“Star darling, how are you faring?”

“What?”

“How are you doing? You know you just need patience. Hang in there.”

“Well, that’s why I am calling.”

“Do you need something? Star, you sound out of breath; are you all right?”

“Yes, yes everything is fine. In fact, we found a cave. It was full of scrolls!”

“Oh Star, that is marvelous. What kind of scrolls?”

“Well, so far they are all signed by some Esther Queen of Persia. And they’re kinda stupid. Did you know that she wrote down what she bought for her bedroom?”

“Ha, ha, you did it, Star. Fantastic! Now darling, have you told anyone else about the scrolls?”

“No, you are the first person I called.”

“Super… Tell you what. Why don’t I come down there and celebrate with you! We can fly home together.”

“Really? I would love to see you. Dr. Burnham and his foreman are getting on my nerves.”

“Let me make some calls and I’ll see what I can do.”

“See you soon!”

“Right, see you soon.” Ms. Ficus hung up the phone laughing and smiling to herself. “Well, that girl did it. She found the scrolls.”

She dialed a new number and waited for someone to pick up. “Hello, Mr. O’Toole. Are you still interested in Persian scrolls?... Yes, I’ve located a sizeable collection… certainly, I’ll get more details and get back to you… No, no one knows about them. They’re hidden. Is the purchase price the same? … Good, I look forward to doing business with you. Ta, ta.”

 Back in Iraq Dr. Burnham began to teach Star some ancient Persian and showed her how he translated the scrolls.

“Now, you see these characters here?”

“Yeah,” said Star as she scribbled down some notes.

“They make up the queen’s name – Esther. That’s how we know it’s hers.”

“Ok.”

Professor Burnham put down his forceps. “Well, how interesting indeed.”

“What is it, Dr. B.?”

“Up to this moment I completely overlooked that your two names are identical. Esther means Star.”

“No way.”

“Yes. It’s true. Her Hebrew name was Hadassah, but once she was taken to the palace she had to change her name to hide her heritage.”

“Her what?”

“Her family tree, as it were.”

“Well that’s stupid. If I had a family I wouldn’t hide it.”

“She had to hide it. Many groups hated the Gardener’s family and were eager to kill them.”

“So what does her other name mean?”

“Hidden.”

“Perfect.”

“What is perfect?”

“Well, my whole life that is what I have felt. Hidden and forgotten. Esther and I would get along great.”

“But they are two separate things entirely, Miss McKenzie. A precious item is hidden to protect it. However, something of little value can be misplaced and forgotten. I would say you are not forgotten, but hidden.”

“Dr. B. I am not precious, please. No one cares where I am or who I am.”

“Oh, but the Gardener cares very much and thinks…”

“Do we have to talk about him?”

“I am sorry you do not like him. May I ask…”

“No… I don’t want to talk about it.” Star put down her forceps and turned to leave.

“If you’d prefer we did not, I will respect your wishes.”

“Thanks.”

“Shall we resume our work?”  Star nodded and returned to the table. Dr. Burnham opened the scroll wider.  Star was thankful for the silence while he took his time translating the rest of the marks. Her painful past cluttered her thoughts making it difficult for her to focus on their work.

“Remarkable!”

“What?”

“Well, if I am reading this correctly. The entire message reads: 

‘I, Esther, Queen of Media and Persia do decree that the fourteenth day of the twelfth month shall be known as Purim. For on this day our sadness turned into joy when our enemy’s plans fell on his own head.’ 

See here the king’s signature ring seal below.”

“What is that?”

“Whoever wore the king’s signature ring had the authority to make laws. Proof of this authority was left on their letters by making a seal. But it is not the seal that amazes me here. Do you know what this document is?” She looked back at him blankly. He brought the scroll nearer to show her the words up close. “This is the very decree Esther made to establish Purim – the Garden festival which celebrates their victory from those who hated them. It is a day of feasting.”

Star’s face remained unchanged.

“Have you never read the story of Esther and how Numa, the Gardener’s Helper, aided her?”

Oh no, more of his fables from the Living Tale? Sure enough he went to his desk and pulled out his tattered leather Book.

“You see all the attention has been on the first two thirds of the story, an orphan girl is taken to the palace to compete with other ladies to determine who would be the new queen of all Media and Persia. Through the Gardener’s favor she is chosen. With Numa’s and her cousin Mordecai’s help she defeats her enemy, Haman. But this is just the beginning of her life. I believe the end of her story proves more powerful. There are important lessons in these pages. And our scroll discovery will help illuminate them.”

“Lessons? Like what?”

“Such as what happens to a young woman when she stops being an orphan and lives as a daughter.”

“Wait a minute. I thought you just said she was an orphan. How could she be a daughter?”

“She understood she was Mordecai’s daughter and later a daughter of the Gardener.”

“Why is that so special? Lots of kids get adopted all the time and there aren’t any books written about them.”

“True. But the ones who have their orphan hearts transformed by Numa truly leave their mark on history.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means his mark of love gives them everything they need to be the kings and queens they were made to be.” He finished his speech only to again see Star’s blank gaze, then slowly, very slowly her eyes began to sparkle.

“So these scrolls that we found, they might be important to some people?”

“Yes, very important to a lot of people.”

“And you did say that I get partial credit for finding the cave?”

“Yes, and I stand by my word, Miss McKenzie.”

Star jumped up. “This is so great. Not only can I get a job with Ms. Ficus in her new museum, but I can probably get a scholarship to college. Oh Dr. Burnham, how can I ever thank you!” She shot out of the door straight to her camper to type her application letters with her discovery highlighted.

Dr. Burnham stood in the doorway of the research trailer watching her run across the sand, bumping into workmen as she went. “Oh, in due time, Miss McKenzie, you’ll see this means much more than a job. But all in due time.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked back to his desk. 

________________

Come back next month to read the next exciting installment. 

Remember Henley and the Book of Heroes is available for Christmas at www.TheLivingTale.com as ebook, paperback, and audio book. All paperback copies include the audio book and an author signature -- a great gift for any reader. 

Chapter 1 of New Book!

Hello friends of the Living Tale, 


Curator Midledorph here! Our scribe, Jane Smith, has given the characters of the Living Tale permission to read you the next book in the Banks family adventure. So without further delay here is the opening chapter...


P.S. if you have not read the first book it is still available. Just click the link on this page. 

Prologue

Zum ziddle zigh ziddle zrum ziddle zree and a zrum zrum zigh ziddle zum ziddle zree. Oh how good it is to be singing the song of the champions again with you. Welcome, welcome children to the story. I am so glad you came to the Living Tale library. We’re just about to read Star McKenzie’s story. Please take your seats on the cushions or climb a tree if you are more comfortable up there.

Ah yes, the little one with so many questions who sits at my feet, welcome back! I’m glad you have come. And I see you have brought some new friends with you to listen to our tale. From the looks on their faces, they have not been in the Living Tale library. May I introduce myself; I am Drake Balio, general of the Gardener’s Iodian Army and narrator of the Living Tale. Permit me to show you around, my new friends, before we start our story. We wouldn’t want you wandering off into a book and getting lost. You see, all our stories are alive here in the Refreshing, so we can enter them at any time and walk around.

Just yesterday, we read from Henley and the Book of Heroes. He is a nine-year-old boy from Shernod who has been learning how exciting it can be to have his hero’s heart ignited after meeting the Gardener. At the same time he is having his adventures around the Living Tale, the Gardener is weaving Star into his life, a special young lady indeed. She is someone Henley will need as soon as he finishes the Book of Heroes.  I can not say for what purpose, only that Henley is going to desperately need her in his next book.

But before she can help him, she needs some help of her own. You see, Star forgot about her heart a long time ago, so it needs reviving. She too must know who she is before she can …oh, there I go again… I cannot tell you that. Those of us on this side of the reflection sometimes have trouble telling stories to you within the reflection. It all happens at the same moment for us because we are not inside of time. The Gardener, on the other hand, is a master at weaving stories in and out of each other so that you only see little bits at a time.

Now let me turn your attention to the back of the Living Library. That busy little glone is Curator Midledorph. Yes, little one; that’s right, you almost said his name. Just remember it’s not pronounced like middle, it has a longer “I” sound to it. That’s right, Midledorf. Now children, please do not disturb him while he is working, for he has the difficult task of organizing our living stories. This means that when someone like Henley is finished with one book and is ready to move to a new one, Curator Midledorph transfers him. We’ll talk more about that later and what all those flashing lights on the book bindings mean. Above all, though, do not touch his hand. If you do, you will immediately transfer into whatever book he has in his hands. It can be a very dangerous place if you are not ready to enter a new book.

Speaking of ready, shall we meet Star? She is about to enter the Living Tale through the Book of Treasures. Let’s join her. She’s the one sitting over there in the sand, crying. Why is she crying, little one? Let’s jump in and find out. Remember our stories are alive so we may enter them at any time. You may want to bring a sun hat; it is very hot in the deserts of Iraq.

Sands of Time

The hot sands pelted Star McKenzie’s face as hard as the desert sun. For weeks she successfully ignored these daily nuisances, but today it was too much. Tears rolled down her cheeks, searing her dry olive skin.

“No treasure over here,” she muttered to herself as she sifted dirt through a screen. “No treasure over there. No treasure anywhere! I hate this place.”

Hadn’t she come to discover a great treasure and become a somebody? But no. Day after day she only discovered new ways for sand to rub her the wrong way. So she sat in the desert of Iraq working on Doctor Bertrand Burnham’s pet project – finding Esther’s scrolls.

Initially she was excited to come, but now she wondered why she ever agreed to it. Her mind drifted away from her dry scenery as she used her memory as a tool of escape to the day she and Ms. Ficus walked into Dr. Burnham’s anthropology lecture.

“Now Star, I know you are a little nervous about the prospect of flying to Iraq, but imagine what an archeological discovery would do for a high school girl like you,” said Ms. Ficus.  Her high-heeled shoes echoed down the long hallway leading to an auditorium.

Star immediately knew the term “like you” was a nice way to call her an orphan. Life was hard enough without her family let alone everyone reminding her about it. “Are you sure I can travel out of England during my foreign exchange term?” asked Star. “Shouldn’t we check with my foster parents back home?”

Ms. Ficus parted the crowd like the bow of a ship as she spied out their seats. “Well we certainly can call them if you like, but I doubt they would deny you such a wonderful opportunity.”

Star followed her down a row of chairs thinking and not really watching where she was going. “If you think it is all right, then I guess…”

“Star darling, you need to sit down the professor is about to begin.” Star looked a little embarrassed as she realized she was the only one still talking and standing. She took her seat next to her host mother and sank into her chair. Ms. Ficus’ manicured hand gave her a pat of reassurance as a khaki clad professor began his lecture.

Star remembered how he discussed his theory of the location of the Hadassah scrolls through a very heavy British accent theorizing they were buried, “somewhere in the sands west of modern day Baghdad. Someday the good Gardener will divulge their location.”

“Sounds great, but he’s a Living Tale freak,” she recalled whispering to Ms. Ficus, in the university’s immense sloped auditorium. Ms. Ficus made no motion to acknowledge Star’s comment, but wrote in perfectly clear manuscript letters on Star’s notebook:

Don’t worry about Burning Ham who digs in sand.

Star tried hard to suppress a laugh, but it burst out despite her best efforts right at the moment when Dr. Burnham asked if there were any volunteers willing to join his “jaunt into the sands of time.” Thinking the sound came from Ms. Ficus he asked, “Yes, the beautiful lady with the long dark hair dressed in the blue and magenta sweater. Are you willing to join the adventure of a life time?”

“No thank you professor, but my young friend, Ms. McKenzie, sounds interested.” She waved an elegant hand towards Star delivering the complete impact of the embarrassment fully in her lap.

“All right then, Miss McKenzie, if you are willing, am I to welcome you aboard?” The professor peered over his glasses to get a better look at a blushing young woman with delicate Asian features slumped in her chair.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, professor. I only coughed. Please continue.” Star wanted to kick Ms. Ficus with the side of her foot, but did not. These types of jokes happened on a regular basis, which made her foreign exchange year a blast. Most days Ms. Ficus acted more like an older sister than a foster mother, who shared Star’s smart-aleck sense of humor.

“Very well, Miss McKenzie,” continued Dr. Burnham. “This could be destiny calling you know,” he then resumed describing his dig site on a map projection.

During the rest of his lecture, Star was a jumble of mixed emotions. Part of her wanted to go and fulfill her dreams and part of her wanted to stay, especially the part of her that could not stand the Living Tale. Her mother’s disappointment with it raced to her mind; she could not trust that fairytale.

After the lecture, Ms. Ficus approached the smiling professor while he packed up his laptop. “Greeting, Professor Burnham. I am Malori Ficus. I believe we’ve met before.”

The professor took a moment to look at her. Slowly his face showed a smile of recognition. “Yes, yes, Miss Ficus, I do remember meeting you in Cairo. Was it 2001?”

“Yes at the Antiquities International Meeting… and it is Ms. Ficus.”

“Yes of course, Ms. Ficus. How are you and your father’s business?”

“Just fine. The past years have been kind to us.”

“Indeed, I hear you are opening a new museum.”

“Yes, a few more exhibits and we’ll have quite a place.”

“What an experience you must be having as her daughter,” he said to Star.

“Oh no, I’m not her daughter. I’m just a foreign exchange student.”

“Hmm, what an adventure all the same.” He looked at his watch and then at Ms. Ficus. “Have you changed your mind about joining me?”

“No, I am sorry I have other commitments, but Star here, would love to join you. She is in London for her sophomore year of high school. The timing of your offer could not be better; she starts her Winter Holiday next week.” Star’s heart pounded hard just remembering being volunteered.

“A month of diving into history. You shan’t be the same, Miss McKenzie.” He looked in his briefcase and pulled out a few ruffled papers. “Well, once we get the legalities worked out I look forward to having you on board. Here are the particulars of the rotation,” he said as he handed them the packet of paper. “You can email me the forms. Now if you will excuse me I have a flight to catch.”

After he left Star protested. “But Ms. Ficus, as much as I want to go I can’t work with him. He’s all about the fables of the Gardener. Look at my notes, he mentioned the Living Tale twelve times in forty-five minutes.”

“Don’t let it worry you, Star. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like to get what we want. Find something in the sand and make your mark on history. Show little little ole Shernod that even orphans can be rich and famous. You’ll be back with me sipping champagne and eating caviar in no time. Besides, Daddy could always use another addition to the museum.”

The wind whipped up the sand so forcefully that even Star’s memory could not deny that a month later she was still stuck in the sand. So much for a fun filled Christmas break. She spent the whole month here with Dr. Burnham and now Ms. Ficus recommended Star spend another month digging before coming back. She even had Star’s school in London mail her schoolwork. It felt just like foster care back in Shernod being shoved away somewhere by a system that promised her a good home and a future, but doing neither.

“The freak,” that’s what the other kids called her at her old foster home because she was the child of a Sudanese mother and a Chinese father who was half Scottish. This left her with Asian features and kinky red hair. Her foster mother’s words still rang in her ears, “Poor thing, you’re just a forgotten little orphan.” The name became her identity one night as she cut that word into her right forearm – forgotten.

Forgotten, that’s what she felt; forgotten, that’s what she was – but what about her dreams? It was the same thing every night. She enters a torch lit cave, discovers a chest of scrolls, and changes history. That’s the real reason why she agreed to come wasn’t it? When Dr. Burnham mentioned looking for scrolls her heart leapt with excitement despite her mind’s disapproval. “Stupid heart, look at this mess you’ve gotten me into now. A dead end rotation in the sand with Dr. Fairy Tale,” she quietly said to herself while she continued to sort sand.

“What was that, Miss McKenzie?” asked Dr. Burnham while digging many feet away. “Find something? You know, good things come to those who wait, and we have been patient with the good Gardener.”

Not him again. Good? Right, what a joke! she thought. “No, doc, nothing yet,” she yelled through the wind while smiling weakly. Another gust of roasted sand blasted her face. I’ve had it! I’m out of here! she screamed in her head and threw her hand trowel down with a shove. Thunk! Her trowel vibrated and echoed with her anger as it struck something hard. “What the…”

Star carefully peeled back the blanket of sand with her hands. There below the dust lay a horizontal stone surface. Quickly her hands dug out its edges. Soon she could recognize a ten-foot wide stone threshold. “See, my dear Miss McKenzie, something’s are lost but not forgotten,” commented Dr. Burnham over her left shoulder.

“No. Maybe not,” was her quiet reply.

Dr. Burnham shouted something in the workers’ native tongue and they quickly moved into position working around her. Maybe her dream was not forgotten because before her eyes the opening of a twelve-foot tall doorway gradually appeared as the laborers worked. Carefully, slowly they removed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years of rubble.

Nearly six hours later Dr. Burnham and Star stood before a great stone door. Star ran to the research trailer to get the specimen kit full of metal forceps, clear baggies, white labels, plastic trays, and a video camera. Dr. Burnham spent her first days teaching her proper specimen techniques; she was not messing this up.

She paused the work to capture footage of the intricate carvings, now eroded by years of sand storms. Finally Dr. Burnham gave the word and the men coaxed open the entrance with pry bars and sweat. She waited beside the professor. “Dis must be it, Doctor,” commented one of the foremen.

“We will soon find out, Ibarred. The great vault of her letters was highly guarded and its whereabouts shrouded in secrecy, but perhaps we have found the cave at last.” Dr. Burnham pulled out his pipe and began prepping it for a smoke while perspiration droplets rolled down his round cheeks and soaked his khaki shirt. “Don’t rush yourselves, gentlemen. No need to be hasty,” he said between puffs.

It’s just like him to slow down when we need to hurry up. Star tried to hide her impatience by adjusting her matted ponytail under her sweat soaked bandana. She found her red curly hair unruly in the dry desert, but what really bugged her today, though, was not her hair, but her heart – was the wait really over? Was she somebody now?

The door moved with cracks and grinds like breaking bones. Her camera furiously whirred away while Star documented their new find. The door concealed a long dark corridor. Ibarred switched on the electric lanterns and handed one to Star. She hesitated, looking at the professor to see if he wanted to enter first. He swung his arm out wide in front of her while giving a partial bow as his moderately overweight belly prevented him from bowing further, “Ladies first, Miss McKenzie. After all, it was your passionate hand that struck gold.” Then he tamped out his pipe’s contents, returned it to his breast pocket, and smoothed his balding head with his handkerchief before following her lead.

Ladies first, indeed, she thought. She did not feel much like a lady in her dirty canvas pants and dusty tan work shirt. Many of her buttons had fallen off, so she closed the holes with safety pins. Being of petite frame, she found it difficult to find good fitting clothing and often shopped in the preteen section of stores; she felt more like a kid playing dress up than a true researcher looking for discoveries. But there she was holding a lantern, standing in a cave entrance looking at row upon row of clay vessels.

With one hand she lifted her light up and with the other she panned the long narrow room with her camera, adding details about the date, time, and researchers. Before she made more than a couple of steps, she heard a man’s voice say, “You are not forgotten,” from somewhere behind her. She whipped around expecting to find someone mocking her, but no one was facing her direction.

Must have been my imagination. Then she noticed Dr. Burnham trying to coax Ibarred through the door. “Dr. B, What’s up?” She liked to call him that when she was feeling patient with him.

“What is the problem, Ibarred?” asked a slightly annoyed Dr. Burnham.

“Sir,” he answered pointing to the end of the tunnel, “dis cave is still guarded.”

Star resumed her filming and moved in the direction of his finger only to let out a loud squeal. “Gross! Oh, that is so gross.” She quickly ran back towards Dr. Burnham then caught herself and tried to look calm again.

“Sure enough,” said the professor spying mummified human remains perched at the tunnel’s end. Star did her best to keep her breakfast in her stomach and kept filming while Dr. Burnham described what he saw. “From the looks of the tattered remnants of his clothing, I’d say this was a male guard from around the 400’s B.C., seeing that it matches other remains we’ve found in this area.” He took a breath and swallowed hard before starting again. “But the startling appearance here is not just his remains so much as his saber. See here how he’s held it up all these centuries by bracing his body against the wall; it’s threatening to come crashing down at any time as my colleague, Miss McKenzie, discovered. Brave fellow must have died defending the room. Look! A scarlet cord holds his saber in his mummified hand… fascinating. This signifies that he was one of the legendary royal guards sworn to protect the queen’s life at all costs. We’ve never found one of them.” The professor’s gloved hands gently pulled the saber from the dead warrior’s dried grasp after Star recorded his bizarre death throws. As he did, a small piece of parchment fell to the ground. He gingerly took out his tweezers to place the parchment into a specimen bag, which he pulled from another of his shirt’s pockets. Ibarred came forward to take the bag; this would go to the research trailer for later processing. “Miss McKenzie, would you like to do the honors?” said Dr. Burnham as he pointed to the row of jars.

Star slowly picked up one of the earthen vessels from a shelf, after filming many more jars. She handed the camera to Dr. Burnham who kept it going while she lay out a blanket on the cool stone floor; everyone gathered round. The lid of the vessel lifted easily. Next she tilted it to allow its contents to flow out. A single parchment scroll slid lightly to the ground.

“Hot dogs! It’s a scroll” Dr. Burnham slapped the side of his leg like a square dance leader setting time. “Now to see whom it is from.”

Star misted the parchment with a solution that softened the stiff page. Slowly and carefully she pulled back the edges. There at the bottom in ancient Persian script Dr. Burnham read:

      As decreed by Queen Esther

      Queen of All Media and Persia

Below this survived the King’s signet ring imprint. “As in the days of the gold rush, they would have said, ‘We struck pay dirt,’ Miss McKenzie.”

Now, it didn’t feel like “pay dirt” to Star, for next came painstaking days of transferring the vessels to the processing trailers. Here each scroll was specially processed and sealed in an air free, nitrogen rich frame. Then, according to Dr. Burnham, would come the months and months of decoding the ancient scripts. But Star did not have months; she had only weeks before her return to London. What will she do?


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