Prism of Perception

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The town of Williamsville can to be found in the very heart of New Jersey. Deep in the forest, away from highways, malls, bustle and noise. It has only one road the wins among 50-60 mansions, loops around and comes out connecting to another road that leads to neighboring town.   There are 2 police cars always parked on road sides, scanning every car, every man, that comes or leaves Williamsville. There are no schools in that town, no stores, no factories; no businesses are registered on local addresses . There is only municipal building with police department and post office. All other buildings in there are residential – belong to some… well known… or unknown residents.

The neighboring town Lower Williamsville – is down there, in the valley, precisely as it says in its name. Regular town, with regular buildings, gas stations, grocery stores, schools and regular people. There is only one secret thought – most of the residents of Lower Williamsville are working for residents of the other Williamsville, the one on the hills, in the forest.

Delivery guys, cleaning ladies, gardeners, chauffeurs, builders, plumbers, baby sitters; all of them walk, bicycle, drive up to the hills by morning and go back down by night. And, if asked about their work, they turn around and leave.  And if the questioner is persistent – he or she may end up in hands of local policemen and spend a night or two locked up.

But there is no one who would ask, simply because there are few people who know about town of Williamsville. Although it has its own zip code, you can’t find it on the map, neither can you enter the name of the town in your GPS and get the direction. And even Google, which seems to have knowledge about anything, will not find the town of Williamsville and instead will ask, if by any chance you meant Williamsville in NY, perhaps.

The houses in Williamsville are different from anything you would imagine. They are not just big or huge – they are not even mansions. O-h, no! They are castles! Many stores up, with turrets, and citadel like walls, with flagsticks on the roofs statues and columns, with alleys and fountains. Some of them have distinct European touch. As if a French or German baron built his castle here. And some are more modern with rose gardens, tennis courts and Olympic size swimming pools.

Some of them are new, built recently, but majority are old, more than hundred years old. This is the old blood and old wealth here – from the days of first colonies….

And also they are scattered in the forest, far apart. Even standing on the top of the tallest tower of one house it is impossible to see what the neighbors are up to.  And the trees are not the biggest obstruction, but the sheer sizes of properties, on which the buildings are standing.

But even in such a place like Williamsville, where there are no curious eyes and snooping pedestrians, there is a house that stands alone in the rank of such a lavish exuberance of Williamsville. And even those, who are custom to local morals, even they lower their voices and whisper, when it come to “that house”.

They call it Gray House. And it is gray – painted over its plaster wall. But all the details are black; the corner beams, the plat bands over arched windows, the shatters, that are always tightly closed and the gargoyles on the roofline. The roof and the awnings on the top floor are covered with copper sheets of bright turquoise color.

It has only four floors. But since each floor stands twenty five feet high, the surrounding oaks seem small and weak.

On the front of the house there are numerous flowerbeds with roses. Dark purple – they blossom all year around like if the seasons don’t have any power over them. In cold winter the snow melts before it lays on velvet petals, and even evilest winds and blizzard don’t have powers over those roses as if they covered with invisible glass domes.

No one ever seen a gardener, who would take care of them; prune, water and feed. And yet, if you dare to ask locals, they will say, that those roses  are the best ones in whole Williamsville.

The doors of the house are big – two sections of 20 feet tall solid wood with brass clinchers each of a size of a fist. Handles enormously big, half a human size of twisted dark iron….    No one ever saw anybody coming in or out of those doors, no one ever heard them groan open.

No one knows who lives there in that strange and seemingly lifeless house. But everyday day, a car drives out the gates, just to come back in few hours. That car is big, black, and antique. The ones you see on old movies. Like one, that Bonny and Clyde would drive. It has darkened windows and spare tires on both sides, right behind of front fenders.   No one has ever tried to follow that car, but even if somebody would, it will be an empty effort, because the car would just disappear after a particularly acute turn down the road. But, as I said, no one knows about that, simply because the privacy in Williamsville valued more than wealth itself.

It was a dark night of September 12, Friday to Saturday. The skies were covered with clouds and there was no moon or any stars visible. The people were slipping in their houses. There was no wind, but high clouds were moving east, away from the forest toward the sea. All clouds…. As they are prone to a high wind, up in the sky. All…but one. This one, much smaller, much darker and much faster was moving west, coming from sea and against the direction of cloudy sky, as if the winds were powerless… As if, it was moving by its own will. An observant witness would state that winds indeed didn’t have powers to match that cloud, for it did not change its shape along its travel. It was fussy and wadded, as a dark cotton ball, but clouds change with blows of winds. Where this one did not.

Right above Williamsville the cloud reviled another strange property; it took a dashing dive toward the earth and swiftly disappeared in the woods. Not too long after that it appeared again on the long driveway of the Gray House. This time like a fog, sticking to the ground, gliding just an inch above the pavement, it stretched itself into a thin blanket, moving quickly, headed for the house.   On the stairs, the fog stretched even thinner and leaked into a fine gash between two doors.

Inside the house there was a big hall. It was large, and round. Many doors on its round walls were closed tight, but, as we saw before, closed doors are not stopping visitors here. The circle of the walls was surrounded with circle of columns – tall, white marble pillars supporting the selling. The floors were of dark granite, with two concentric circles of rare red marble one inside another, marking the center of the hall. And in center there was a circular pool with a statue of naked woman on center, with her arms opened, as if for hug. She was beautiful, that woman. Tall and slander, proportionally built with long neck, and long curly hairs. Her face was tense and her eyes closed.

The pool was dry; there was no water in it, or anything else. Right above the pool, on the ceiling there was a huge chandelier. Unnumbered human arms, growing one off of another were forming an incredible maze, intertwined and knotted. Every arm was finished with a palm and every palm was holding a tall candle. The candles where lit and there was probably a thousand candles on that chandelier brightly illuminating every spot in the hall.

The fog leaking from under the door rushed toward the pool, climbed over the curb and submerged disappearing. As it was melting, water appeared instead. Dark and heavy, it slowly filled up the pool, first covering its bottom and rising little by little. And then finally water touched the feet of the woman-statue. And in that very moment the statue took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

There was a servant waiting behind her; an old man in black tuxedo and white shirt.  As she lower her arms, he stepped forward and throw a black silky cloak on her shoulders. Woman walked out of pool.

-      Hello Stefan, – she said “Stefan” with emphasis on “a”,

-      Hello madam, – answered the servant with a polite bow.

-      Finally I am home; – she smiled and turned to him. The cape was wrapped around her body covering her up from neck to toe.

-      How was your trip, madam? – Servant asked.

-      Nothing interesting, Stefan, just a business, – she said, – but I have a souvenir for you.

-      A souvenir, madam?

-      O yes, here is , – as she opened her palm a gold coin shined on light, – this is a French Louis d’Or , Stefan. There were using them before the republic, when there were kings in France. A fine addition to your collection, I believe.

-      Thank you very much, Madam, – servant said, taking the coin, – I remember those days!

-      Of course you do, – she answered with a smile, – is everybody arrived yet?

-      Yes, madam, – said Stefan, – They are in the imperial room. But Lord Master is not there yet; He was waiting for your return.

-       Then I shell not making him wait any longer, – she said and walked toward one of the doors on the left. Although, one would ask where is the right or left in the round room.

Behind the door there was a staircase, nothing else, but stairs. A white marble floor, with purple mosaic, ivory color plastered walls, heavy molded brass handrails with dragon like posts and sconces on the walls. The stairs were leading down, to the underground levels of this truly mysterious house. She run down quickly and somehow giddily, jumping over the stairs and cutting shorts on turns. As if she was not an adult, but a girl of ten years of age. First flight passed; jump, second one; jump, third and final one – jump.

And there were another set of doors, which she opened with both of her hands, pushing, stepping into a great rectangular hall. It also was lit brightly, by the light of 3 big chandeliers, holding half a thousand of candles each. The light of each candle would mirror and reflect off of the thousands and thousands small crystal bids making it impossible to look straight at them and illuminating all around,  leaving no place for shadow or even a twilight.

The walls were bare stone, unpainted and rough, with white snakes of plaster around each rock. Above the walls there were large beams of wooden rafters going across the hall, spitting the ceiling into 3 arched chambers.  The chandeliers were hanging off the centers of each chamber by thick, with large iron links, chains. There were banners around the walls, or long flags, perhaps. Hanging down vertically on the walls. There were eight of them, each with unknown beast embroidered on it.

The floor was of a white marble, with  red concentric rectangles outlining the walls, one smaller than another. Inside the smallest one, in the center of the hall was a table, also prolonged and rectangular with eight chairs around it; four on each side.  The dark mahogany table was so big, that between two neighboring chairs one could fit another two at least.  The table was empty. Nothing was on it, not even a glass, or vase with fresh fruits or flowers.

And the hall was not empty; there were… guests… waiting in there. Standing next to walls. Four of them where man, and three women. Man in tuxedos, with white shirts, lades in evening dresses with their necks and backs open. With diamond rings, necklaces and earrings. All sparkly and shiny.

As they saw the woman, that entered the room, all the conversations died and they all turned to her. But she did not stop, even for a second

-      Good night, my dear guests, – she said, – I am glad to see that all of you find possible to attend our tonight’s gathering. Please take your seats; I am embarrassed to make you wait any longer.

The guests rushed to her, greeting. Each man bowed on front of her, kissing her fingers. The women were making a courtly reverence with smiles. She answered with complements, mentioning impeccable beauty of each woman and manners of each man. But suddenly she moved her look, breaking eye contract, to somebody on the back. The guests noticed that and momentarily all of them turned toward the table. There was another man standing there. Tall and teen. One would say that he is probably ill, so thin he was. Bones were covered with mere skin, without any hint for muscles at all. Hi was not wearing a tuxedo, as all other guests, but a white shirt and jeans. With his bare feet in sleepers. Anorexia – would be a proper word to describe him. But make no mistake! That man was not ill, nor was he an anorexic. It just, many-many years ago, he decided, to look this way. For his own, for us invisible, reasons. And would it happen for him to decide to change his appearance, it would change overnight, as if, it was a dress that one can change. Drop down before the bed and wear something new next morning.

The man was not moving. The woman, on the other hand, rushed to him, almost run. And, when approached, she bowed down low and kissed his hand. The guests went to their chairs and stand next to them, waiting for a signal to seat. The man moved his chair and sat. The guests followed him. But the woman left to stand, as for her; there was no chair prepared. And since there was no chairs at the head of the table one could say that there are all equals around that table. All, but that woman, who left standing while others were seated.

There was a moment of silence and then the man said:

-      You may begin, Natalie.  And… make it short, we don’t have all night.

-      Yes, Lord Master, – she replayed with a smile and gregarious node, – As you wish.

Then she cleared her throat and started.

“Ladies and Gentleman. Lords of New England. A full year past since our last meeting. And, today, I’m here to report you about what we have accomplished since then.” she paused and cleared her throat again.

“First of all, let me appoint to your attention that there were nine chairs around this table last time, but, as you know, Lord Master Nicolaus Lacatus was”, she hesitated for a split second to find a right word, ”Pacified… And, his family was partially absorbed by family of our host, Lord Master Lanatus Tuccius. And for good, I should say. For good, because Lord Master Lacatus was not able to understand the concepts and reasons of our business enterprise and was actively interfering into our affairs.” She smiled and looked over the guests.

“As a result of his… pacification… “, she continued, “We gained full control over the entire east cost, from Delaware River and to Canada’s borders. Nobody can interrupt our operations now… “

She stopped like in wait for applauses. But the only cheering she received was a grime look from every single guest. So for her, it was clear, that they are not supporters of her actions. Good or bad, Lacatus was one of them, Lord Master of Undead, and she was nobody, Second Daughter of Tuccius.

“And now about the business”, she continued, “The analysis and our prior experience showed that the idea of hiring writers and emerging into the publishing and writing industry was very successful. We increased the numbers of writers that are working for us from 2 to 8; and, by the end of the year, we are going to control the 10-20 % of all book market that is specializing on… unnatural beings… I am sure you know what I mean. With element of romance and rampant sex the stories about us are very popular among humans. It seems that they are drawn to blood, dead, sex and all other… pleasures. “

She looked over the guests again. Some were smiling; some were sitting there with dull absent look on their faces. She caught eyes with Marshal of Massachusetts, Lord Master Lady Marina Taggorri. And not strangely, she saw a smile in her eyes. Without doubt Lady Marina enjoyed those books, as well as she gave few story ideas to those writers. Stories from her own past and present.

“Besides that”, Natalie continued, “we entered into “motion feature” industry. Movies. We did not plan that to happen. It just few particular books written by our authors became so popular that is was natural to make a moves based on them. We hired Hollywood studios to make that happen and, today, we have 2 moves in production and another 3 are in pre-production stage. All five of them are sponsored exclusively by us, so we are not going to share any profit from it.  By estimates that will bring us about quarter of billion dollars profit in total. Which, in addition to book market gives us about 350-400 million profit this year only. and that is not talking about long term royalties; DVDs, sound tracks, publications, interviews and other activities.  The exact numbers of operations you may find in the annual reports that were sent to your offices earlier this week… That is to our legal operations.”

Natalie stopped, leaned forward to the table, and put her palm on it. Now she looked more like a “woman of power”. Confident and strong. Even her eyes became hard and dangerous. Like eyes of a beast.

“In the shady side of our investment I can mention that we tripled our traffic of … “goods”… coming from Golden Triangle. Drugs are more than popular now days. And with our abilities, we are practically controlling 80% of all turnaround. We have 6 carriers. Each carries can transport two pounds of pure 100% heroin per night. 12 pounds of goods per night, 10-20 nights per month. It makes about 200 pounds of heroin. Taking into consideration, that our carriers provide absolutely no loss in transportation, local dealers are literally killing each other in order to work with us.  We are being paid $30 000 per pound for transportation, which makes”, she paused, “seven million dollars per month. And that is only for taking 2 pounds of flour-like powder and flying it over undetected from Asia to New York. A year ago, when I offered this business many of you were against it. Today you see that it is a complete success. We invest almost nothing into this, we risk almost nothing, but we profit seven million dollars a month. And, what is more fortunate, we pay no taxes.

“The word about our “transportation services” got around, we received an inquiry from our Mexican… “relatives”. They are asking if we would agree to help them to set  up an business enterprise and organize stable and long term transportation channels of “goods” from their territories. The interesting part of the deal is that they are offering to pay not only with money, but with exclusive “blood” tours. Hunting for “food” they call it… All the prey is alive and based to hunter’s preferences… young, old, healthy, ill, virgin… female, male… whatever we want. They prepare prey and hunting grounds, we go and hunt and engorge.”

Natalie looked over the table. The faces now were interested and supporting.

“We are not sure yet on this deal.” Natalie’s voice got powerful and strong. She was in her territory now “First of all,  I personally, against their methods of payments. We prefer money, not services. We have our “playgrounds”… Secondly, we are not sure what kind of partners they are. their families are different. we don’t share same values and loyalties. So we have to start very cautiously, making sure our grounds are safe. Mexicans are known to brake the alliances and switch sides.

Our neighbors from north, on the other hand are more reliable and predictable. We got an offer form Toronto clan. Their product is clean and almost legal. They want steady transportation line. We still need to discuss the details, but in any event, this line of will give us another 5-6 millions per month, depend on volume. And … I just want to make sure… that we are on the same page here… we are not doing any distribution of the product…” she stressed every word”…We are only providing transportation services. “

“Why not to do distributions too?” a voice came from far left corner of the table. That was Lord Master of Rode Island Aristarkh Nemarooh, “if it is so profitable?”

“The exposure, My Lord “, answered Natalie swiftly, “We think that there could be many situations with customers and authorities, where distributors may expose their unnatural essence. Where dealing with wholesale dealers only keeps our contact with people minimal and less … tempting.”

Lord Master Aristarkh shook his head in sing of approval.

“On our European market”, Natalie continued, “We are making our share on transportation of donor organs from Kosovo and Iraq… This, I should say, is the most promising direction of our business dealings. The profit margins are the best, the packages are small and not heavy… and they are very time sensitive. So, by my opinion, we should invest more in this direction. And when I say invest – I mean we should bring new brothers and sisters into our families, we should target people that posses particular skills; doctors and especially surgeons. They know human body very well. Then know how to extract organs and how to preserve them for transportation. If we have family members like that, we could put our hands not only on transportation of donor organs, but also on their harvest.” She quickly licked her lips.

“By my point of view it is ideal for us. We hunt, we eat, we take the necessary organs and we deliver… and get paid for it.  You can’t go wrong here. The hunt is to be performed in war zones, wherever they happen; currently its Middle East and Africa… And also on territories where local governments are weak and corrupt; Burma, Malaysia, post-USSR countries…”

Guests were looking to her with clear ravishment and delight. Of course this was closer to their nature, more familiar than drugs. They heard well- known words, like hunt, blood, eat.

“And the demand, – she continued -”is absolutely crazy. The broker, we currently deliver the organs to, orders 5 kidneys per day and pays $50 000 for each… We are getting $15000 for transportation only, but for him it makes no difference who he pays to… just bring it … lungs, livers, hearths…  we can do all of it. We just need qualified family members.”

“So”, Natalie paused, for it was the most important moment in her speech,” I want to ask this consul a permission, to double the number of members in my family – from 6 to 12.  New members are to be doctors… mostly… also I need few carriers.”

She stopped and looked at them. The ravishment and support diminished from guest’s faces… More members meant more power, stronger family. They sensed danger, a hidden one. All 8 families of east coast were in balance. The number of members was regulated and strongly controlled. Bigger family meant more power but at the same time it needed more food.  And clans were very reluctant to share the power and food, of course.

But they were humans ones, this guests sitting around the table. And as to many, greed knew its way to their dead and empty hearts. She knew, that the permission will be granted. Not today perhaps, but eventually.

“The decision is not needed immediately, – she said, – you will have time to consider.”

She stopped again, mentally, in her head, flipping the page of this report.

“All this concerned to “income” side of the business… On the expense side, I can tell that this year we are fully capable to provide daily food for all your families. We open two new blood banks, one in Boston, and the other one in New York. And there is a third one, in construction stage, in south New Jersey. And all of it -absolutely legal. We are supplying donor blood to local hospitals, as well as, to all of you and your families. We pay donors hefty, and we don’t have any trouble, nor with money to pay them, nor with local governments. Everything is legal… and, of course, covered up. Nobody has slightest idea where the blood goes. And nobody knows from where the money comes. But since everybody is happy- nobody complains.  And we will keep everybody happy as long as it takes…”

She took deep breath, preparing for final accords of her meticulously prepared and conducted speech.

“Dear guests, I don’t think any of you need to go out for hunt anymore… not, of course, if you want to… But we are able to provide enough blood for any appetite… Based on our reserves we can deliver 12 pints of blood daily to every member of eight New England families… And that is more than anyone ever had…“ Guests moved and applause on this. She was not finished yet. She raised her hands requiring silence.

“With the opening of new blood bank in New Jersey, we will be able to provide blood to southern families, and that will greatly benefit to our power and respect. Just wait for them to start eating from our hands!  You will be able to expand your influence to south, make your families richer and more powerful than they ever were!”

She finished, stepped back from the table bowed. Guests were on their feet apposing and cheering. The Host, Lord Master Tuccius gave her a hug and kiss to her lips. Lady Marina too, came and hugged.

-      You did great my darling“, she said, “I knew you were special, from the very first time we met! Good job! Good job!”

-      O thank you, my lady, you are so kind! Thanks for your support, I needed that!

-      Any time my darling!  Any time you need.

And on that the meeting was over, guests were rushing to leave before the sunrise. They cut short their goodbyes and one after another disappeared. The great hall was empty, the table and the chairs disappeared too and the banners form the walls and the chandeliers…. Now it was an empty, dark hall. Unoccupied and unfriendly. Natalie and Lord Tuccius left the hall at last and were walking up the stairs when Natalie asked.

-      So, what you think my Lord?

Tuccius put his hand around her shoulders and pulled to himself.

-    You did great”, he said with smile,” It was just wonderful. You gave them what they wanted, got what you wanted. And managed to do that with such a grace, that there is not doubt in my mind that in 30-40 years they will elect you a Grand Lord Master and will bring all their families to you on a plate!”

-    Thanks my Lord “, she replayed hugging him back and kissing, “You are very kind to me! It was nothing, just a report… You are the mind behind all of it. Without you I am nobody, just a woman from corporate world.”

-    That is not true, – he said in return – and you know that! Your ideas are fresh, and new! No one from us can even imagine all this! Without you, we would go hunting every other night! And it was getting difficult with every day! Take Manhattan, for example. Fifty years ago I was hunting on the streets without any fear. And now there are so many cameras that even our supernatural abilities are no use. I was afraid to be seen and exposed. But with you everything changed, we don’t need to hunt anymore! And for that I am greatly indebted to you!  And not only me, but all of us!

She wanted to respond, but he put his palm over her mouth

-      Tsh-sh-sh”, he said, “Don’t argue with me, am old and wise, and I know what I am talking about. Let’s go to sleep, the morning is here. And you need to sleep. For at night you have a business to run…  Just want to ask you something.

-      Yes, my Master?

-      Do you have any regrets… for your old life? That you gave up your life and now you are who you are?

-      No-o-o! ”, she laughed, “What are you talking about! This is what I want, this is what I am. This is like “business as usual” for me. But now I have more power than ever! More possibilities.”

-      You sure?

-      Yes, my Lord. Believe me! Business as usual!

And with that they walked up, embraced in each other arm, her head on his shoulder. The doors opened and closed after them and immediately all the candles on chandeliers on the walls died out as if commended and the staircase plunged into the darkens.

I love Morocco; every year I am coming back here for a month or so. I like the streets, people, food, colors, desert… everything. I come here to rest– this country seems have stopped in time, somewhere in 17-th century. Here there is no rush and stress, there is no being late and making up for dead line. There is only the endless desert and blue skies. And some mystique philosophical wisdom of people, like if they know something about life that we, westerners, don’t. It is in their eyes, their smiles; in their gestures – meaningful and precise and in every word – equally wise and deceiving.

Ocher colored adobe houses attached one to another, dark narrow windows designed to keep the insides cool. The markets, with their vivid bright colors of hanks of wool and distinct and jaw cramping aromas of food and spices. Rugs and carpets of any color and size.  Narrow streets, hidden under the arches of connected buildings, red and blue painted doors and window shatters. Ancient castles, mosques and minarets, and gardens with fig palms and flowers of breathtaking colors. And hot, tong burning tea to cool down or to worm up.

And most of all – the desert! I don’t know why, but the view of desert took my hearth away! I feel in love with it from the first look and steel seek the many thing in it. Many years passed since then but every year I come back to visit Morocco and the desert.

I will never forget my very first trip to Morocco. It was truly life changing for me… My father bought that all-inclusive tour for me. Very unusual move for him, I should say. He would rather travel with whole the family with him, you know.

I remember when we were kids, everything we did – all the travels, all the vacations we went; we did all together. Even when my sister got married and moved with her husband, still, every summer in August and winter in February my father would organize a family vacation and would take everyone with him.  And, as a matter of fact, when he first told me about that trip to Morocco, we were sitting around Christmas table discussing an upcoming trip to Venice, for a carnival.

The picture of that day is imprinted in my memory with bold lines. A big oval table. My father at its head with a glass of wine, my mom on his right side, my sister with her husband and two kids. Then my younger brother and me, finishing the circle, on my father left hand. The dinner was coming to the end. Mom and sis were about to clean up the table for fruits and desert and we were talking about costumes we would make for carnival in Venice. And suddenly my father looked at me and asked to bring an envelope from his office. And so I did.

Dad’s office always was some magical place for me. I remember being kid, 10 maybe 11 years old, knocking on his door. I would ask a permission to read in the chair. And he would grant me one, with a condition to keep quite. I would mount up into red leather chair of enormous size on front of his desk and read. Holding a book on the chair’s arm and curling my hair on my finger. All the furniture in his office was mahogany and red leather. Huge, just enormous table, with side drawers and leather inset on center, tree chair; one behind the table and another two on sides. Table lamp with green glass and bookshelves. Bookshelves full of books and references.

I walked into his office and saw the envelop he was asking for, right in the middle of empty table. I grabbed it and went back to dinner room, stopping in the corridor to look at myself in the mirror and fixing my hair.

Another attraction of our house; that mirror. It was big, 8 fit tall, in massive oak frame. Family legend said it belonged to French royal family ones, and then, trough unimaginable turns of events was gifted to my grand-grand-grand-grandfather almost 200 years ago. I don’t know how much it was actually true, but ones, somebody offered an obscene amount of money to my father for it. And of course my dad rejected the offer in a form that eliminated any further negotiations.

I returned to the room and handed that envelop to my father. “No, it’s for you “he said without taking it. “For me? What is it?” I asked and opened it.

And there it was. Air tickets, hotel reservations…. “You are leaving January second and coming back January 15. Before the school resumes” He said and smiled. “This is our present to you, from me and mom.”

The remaining week between Christmas and New Year day all the conversations in the house were about that me and my trip.

And in the evening of January second, there I was,  walking the streets of Marrakesh. And next two weeks were the most fantastic weeks of my life. Alone, with no parental control, and no certain plan of travel, I would wake up early on the morning and spend my day on the streets. Moving from town to town. Taking side trips, looking and hearing. On cars, horses, donkeys and on my own two.  Sucking up the life as if it was oxygen – greedily and anxiously. I needed to try every meal, drink every drink, ride, swim, climb, and hunt…. 24 hours a day was not enough and I was sleeping only 4 hours. I was watching people praying on the streets by day and selling spiced by night.   I would sit with them on the top of the flat roofs to see a sundown. I would hear mullahs calling for pray from the top of the minarets and would make my pray with them on the ways of my own church.

It was my last day in Marrakesh. I returned back to town from the far mountains of the east and was preparing to leave for home. All the bags were packed and I had only one deed to pay – souvenirs for my family. So, I went out to the best place for that king of task – to Medina quarters.

I knew exactly what to choose and where to buy. A colorful and transparent chiffon head wrap for my mom. A hand carved ivory set of chess for dad. A dagger for my brother-in-law. An Arabian scimitar for my brother. A basket full of oriental ointments and perfume for my sister and strings of chaplets for my nieces.

As any part of the Medina, streets were narrow with no skies above. The uppers levels of the buildings would arch and connect to each other creating more living space. The stores on first floors were all one after another; similar in design and united with the type of product they sell.

The aisle of spices – all the stores would have spices, same ones, set similarly on the tables on the front of the stores in big pouches with half-rolled tops. And the daggers and arms would be on the next street – also on the front of the open doors, with owners standing behind the counters. And sometimes you could see the anvil behind and two or three man pounding the iron. Another turn and you would appear on the street full of carpets and rugs. All over the walls, one over the other, of any color, shape and price…

As I walking through the streets of Medina, my list was getting shorter. Surprisingly, the most difficult purchase happened to be the jewelry for my nieces. I was passing through stores, one after the other, moving from counter to counter touching and playing with bids and strings of gems and pearl; but anything would catch my eyes, nothing that I would imagine on pretty necks of my sister’s daughters.

But then there was a store, on the corner of the street, with rich counters set outside, with gold and silver jewelry. This one was different form others because it was twice expensive.  I saw the clerk. A young man, almost a boy, was standing in between tables with his hands crossed on the chest. He caught my eyes and rushed to me. “Monsieur is looking for himself?” He asked. “No” – I answered- “For my nieces. 5 and 7 years old”. “Silver or gold?” Followed the second question. “I am not sure”, I said, “Silver, maybe, with gemstones”. “Then you are the right place, – he said with smile and bow of his head, – we have the best variety!”

“And if you need something to change, – he waved his hand toward the house behind the counters, – my father is working now, he can rework anything you wish”. “That is wonderful!” I said “Let see then! How much for that necklace with turquoise?”

He said the price and we started to bargain. I would say my number and he would say his. Back and forth, from one item to another. I was trying to make it less. And he… I don’t really know what he wanted, to sell his product or just spend the day bargaining. Twenty minutes later I was seating on comfy and soft divan and drinking tea, in the room behind the counters. There was a low standing tea table on front of me with a tray of baklava and cookies on one side and necklaces of my choice on the other. We were still bargaining, but Musha, that was the name of the boy, already ordered the purchases to be boxed and wrapped. Somehow, instead of two items, I purchased six and Musha was saying that, if I pay the price he wants he will throw in a ring that is “just made for such “faris “like me.

“Show me the ring!” I said. “Show me the money!” was the reply. But then a box appeared on the table – small jewelry box, with green and red silk upholstery. I opened and there was a ring. Man ring, not girlish.  Very simple. Silver, with thin bottom part that would come to a square on top. Not very big, just about size of a thumb nail. No ornament, no patina, just smooth silver with a square flat “base” on top. And on that “base” there was a round inset of cabochon of malachite. Green with black lines. And amazingly, those lines would form of a figure of a spider. A perfect contour of a spider; with small head, bigger belly and eight legs of different size. The front ones were the longest and the back ones the shortest.

I took the ring from the box and put it on my ring finger. It was loose a bit. I changed it to middle finger, clenched my hand to fist… I liked it. I liked the ring. It fitted like it was made for me, did not feel it at all.  And when I turn my hand under the light I noticed that, depend on the angle, the shape of the spider would change giving to it an illusion of motion. Like it the spider would run off the ring…. And then I was ready to pay.

Back in home I gave out all the presents and entertained them with stories about my trip. Everyone was excited and pleased. But most of all was my father. It seemed to me that he was not only pleased, but also proud of me. As if I proved something to him…. I am still wandering what exactly.

Next few months passed without anything exciting. I was back in school.  Going to classes and spending my time between library and swimming pull.   The ring was on my middle finger. Always. I would not even take it out in shower.

One thing was wrong though. With more time in college I started to realize that my decision to follow the steps of my father and become a construction engineer was not exactly right. It was good to be a kid and walk with your father over the bridge that he had helped to build. But when it came to actual math and physics that was behind that construction – I understood that it was not exactly my cup of tea. Even worse – it was not a “tea” at all! By the end of May my days were becoming gloomy.  The thought, that I am doing a big mistake, was following me everywhere, in every class, in library, even on the student gatherings. I was trying to get myself busy with sports; spending every free minute in the pool or in gym. But it just went from bad to worse; while my body was busy; my mind kept lingering all around same problem again and again.

I lost interest in most of classes, which momentarily mirrored on my mid grades.  I was preparing myself to a potentially devastating conversation with my dad about dropping the college.   And then, one night… I got a bloody nose.

It would happen to my time to time. I don’t know why – thin blood vassals in my nose or maybe the influence of chlorine in the swimming pool water. But sometimes I would get the blood dripping from my nose. Since it was a common to me, I knew what to do. I would run to freezer, take out few pieces of ice, wrap them in paper towel and press against my nose. The cold would contract the vassals. And bleeding would stop in few minutes.

And this time too. I was in my room in dormitory when it happened. I quickly grabbed my nose, rose my head up and went for ice. The freezer was outside, in the common kitchen at the end of the long corridor. The corridor was light, but empty – it was late. I opened the freezer and grabbed a handful of ice cubes. Then saw the roll of paper towels on the corner of the counter. So, with my one hand on my nose, I put the cubes down, ripped a sheet of towel, put cubes on it, folded the edges and pressed it against my face. Then ripped few more sheets of paper and went back to my room.

Thankfully, I managed to do all that without any bloody hand prints on the counters and freezer. There were some droplets on the floor and I cleaned them with towels in my hand. Back in my room I went to bath and stayed there until bleeding stopped. I was sitting on top of toilet cover checking for blood flow from my nasals when I noticed that my entire hand, including the ring are bloody. In other time it would not bother me, but now I thought that the blood will not come off the malachite so easy. I took the ring off of my finger and noticed a strange thing. The blood was covering the silver cast, but the stone itself was spotless, as If it was repellent to blood. I looked at that, amazed, and then rubbed the stone against the bloody towel I was holding. What happened next amazed me even more. Thin layer of blood, on the surface of the malachite, rolled into multiple small droplets, like a drizzle on the window glass, and squirted into the stone, disappearing. It was so unusual that I repeated that rubbing few more times. And with no failure the same process followed; the blood would turn into the droplets and sink into the stone. I would not be an engineers’ son, if I would not promised myself to go to library tomorrow and investigate this unusual property of malachite.

I woke up suddenly, jumped out of the deep well of my dreams. It was middle of the night, it was dark yet, and the alarm-clock was showing 2:43. I slept probably an hour or so…. I turned to another side intending to go back to slip again, and then I heard a soft, woman voice calling my name. I did not react, assuming that am still sleeping. But voice called me again – this time little lauder. I turned back harshly and saw a figure standing next to my bed, by my feet. I reacted faster than managed to think. In less than a spit second I jumped up in my bad, moving out and away from it. Next, I grabbed the electrical cord on my table lamp and switched the lights on…

-                     Who are you? What you doing here? – I was standing between her and the door, ready to run out in any sign of danger. I started to come back to my senses. Thoughts were racing in my head; I was holding my arms on front of me, in defensive manner. But the figure did not move.

-                     “Who are you?” – I asked again.

It was a woman.  Short, maybe just over 5 foot. From head to toe wrapped with dark brown cloth. It seemed very familiar, but at that moment I did not realized that not very long ago I saw many figures like that in Morocco. She turned to me, and pulled the cover off of her face and head.   She looked… grown up. Not young. But not old, neither. Over forty, perhaps. She had curly hairs. Light blue eyes and white skin. Her face was king and smiling. Somehow every line on her face, her lips, her eyes, her chin, even lines on her forehead were smiling. And that smile looked very…. trustworthy…. if that is a right world. All her appearance was very casual and kind.

“I mean no harm”, she said, “I am Anancy.”

“I don’t know you!” I replayed, “How did you get in here?!”

“You called me!” she said with soft voice, “And I came.”

“I did not call anybody!” I said, “Get out!”

“I am Anancy”, she said again, with patience, “You are wearing my ring.” She stretched her hand from under the cloth and showed to the ring on my finger.

“You feed the ring with blood and I came!” she was acting like if her appearance in the shut room in the middle of the night was normal.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The entire situation begun to look very weird. “Am I dreaming?” I was asking myself.

“I am Anancy”, she repeated again, “You are wearing my ring. And you feed it with your blood. You called me. So, I am here, obeying to your call!”

It was surreal and absurd. Me, standing in the middle of the room in underwear, and her, wrapped into a cloth like in shroud. To say that I was scared means to say nothing. I was terrified. Unconsciously, I was desperately trying to find a rational explanation. My thoughts were jumping between “I am dreaming” and “It’s a prank”.

It took us probably 45 minutes to figure out who she was and how she was related to the ring. After dozen of my questions, and her calm and soft answered I pictured the following story. … “Long time ago, when humans were young there were five human kings, of 5 great states in North Africa. And all those five countries were in endless war with each other. And no one would either agreed to stop the fighting, neither anyone of them was able to win the war.  One would make in alliance with two others and march over the borders of third. But then treason would happen and the army would vanish in sands. And on next turn, the fourth country would go against the fifth one, but when the armies were away, the second one you break the thirty and invade to concur the lands of its neighbor. And the land was soaked with blood, and the corpses were left unburied.  The size of human carnage was behind of anything imaginable.

Generations of kids were born, grew up and died without seeing a single day without war. The sword was their favorite toy, and the dead bones on road sides were as common as fallen branches of trees. They forgot how it was – to have peace.   People of all five countries were suffering, unable to stop that madness. They fled for their lives, for their sons not to die and daughters not to be enslaved. The villages were emptied and fields got left unplowed.

And then a king was born, wise and fair.  As he grew, he saw the madness that scorched that land. He decided to finish the war, to stop the killings, to bring back peasants to their farms and fill the villages with life again. As he was looking for ways to do so, he called for Anancy, the ancient goddess of Wisdom, and she came to him in a form of spider.  She became his adviser, living in the glass ball, traveling with him. By day a spider, by night a woman.    She was the best and wisest adviser of any human king had ever had. Merciful and fair, incorruptible and unemotional. For she was a goddess of wisdom, Anancy, the niece of Mother Goddess.   Day after day she helped him in his military operation and diplomacy. Where to attack, when to retreat. When to be brave and when to send an assassin instead of army.   And sure as day, one after another all rival kingdoms failed to king’s mercy.  They swore an allegiance to him and proclaimed him The King of Kings. The war was stopped.

A time of peace and prosperity came… for all. People were farming and harvesting, trade was flourishing, ships with goods were freely swimming at seas and entering all ports of united kingdom and caravans were traveling without fear…

But, as the years past, King of kings was getting older. He started to worry, that when he dies, the sons of former kings will revolt and split the country in bloodshed.  Then he summoned Anancy again. And asked for her advice. And she told him to find a gemstone, a malachite, with a spider on it.  And to forge a ring of pure silver cast and set the malachite on it. And when the ring was ready, she performed a powerful magic and bounded herself to that ring. And it was said that the ring will pass from father to son, and if so happen that one needs an adviser, all he needs to do, is to feed the spider with his own blood… and Anancy shell answer the call.

For many generations Anancy helped ring bearers with her wisdom. In any question, in war and peace, in love or hate, in illness or health – if summoned, she would come and advise! And then the ring was lost. No one knows how, and neither anyone knows when or where was it found again. But sure, it was in jewelry store in Medina where I purchased it. And it was my blood today on the ring and so she came….

By the time she ended that story I had my jeans and shirt on. She was sitting in my chair and I was on my bed, listening. I did not believe a single word she said. Who would? “I don’t believe in Santa Clause or Anancy!” I was thinking to myself”What kind of games she is playing at? And why?”

“Well it is a good story”, I said when she finished, “But I this is a prank, there are no Gods and I don’t believe you! So, please, get out my room!”

“It is very normal not to believe in something that does not fit into a concept of your world…” – she replied.

“Listen woman, I don’t care what is normal or not! Nor I care how you got into my room”, I interrupted her again, “Please, leave my room or I will call security.”

“Also, I know… that if I don’t present any evidence of my highest power, you will not believe me.” – She continued with smile, ignoring my rudeness.

“And since you don’t have any proofs of your highest powers”, I broke her again, “Leave! Now! I have classes in few hours, I need to sleep.”

“And, since it is not in my habits to prove anything to anybody, a will tell you this! If you want to know what to do with our life, call me! You know how!” she said, and with those words she disappeared. Not suddenly, No! She slowly melted in a thin air, smiling and looking straight into my eyes.  Her lines became fuzzy first, and then she became see-thru, tuned to fog and vanished…

The horror bolted through my spine like an eclectic shock, I startled so hard I hit my head to the wall behind, and started to hiccup.  I sat there motionless, for another minute, frozen with my eyes open into the empty chair, which was just occupied. Then I stretched my hand and fumble on the seat. It was warm, still holding the body heat. Warm and empty….  The world I knew was collapsed on front of my eyes. The science, the religion, the history…. The past and present… everything crumbled down creating a twister of dread in my stomach…  It grew to my throat and blasted out in a thick, yellow, smelly vomit, covering my bed sheets and floor.

Needless to say I did not slip the rest of the night. And the next day was completely in fog. Partially because of lack of sleep, but mostly because of the sense of paralyzing fear that nested in my guts. It consumed me completely. I actually pushed myself to go outside and attend the classes. And right after them I returned back to my room, crawled onto my bad and laid there facing wall till next morning.

Few of my friends came and left, I was not responding to anything, pretending to be asleep. I was thinking. I was dissolved in fear, drawn. Fear so strong and overwhelming that very core of me as a person got shattered.  At that moment I was a small frightened boy, hiding under “my blanket” and sucking on my thumb. And my brain was battling the fear; my brain was looking for a rational explanation to what happened last night. And it was doing everything without my conscious involvement.  I was not talking to myself; I was not trying to convince myself that all that never happens. It was my brain – separated from emotional part of me – that did the entire job. Little by little, it found, or  rather, created inconsistencies in the picture of what happen that day and convinced itself, along with emotional part of me, that all of it was a sickness and delusion resulting intense and stressful studies, homework and spoiled Chinese food that I eat previously…. And the emotional me?  Well, I was watching all that from underneath the blanket, still sucking on my thumb…

By the morning of second day the heavy chains of fear got loose and I began to breathe again. It was Friday; I missed the classes, fell asleep. Then there was a weekend. And by Monday I almost recovered from the shock. Almost, because there was a small part of me that was refusing to accept a comfortable lie that it had never happened. That small part of me was sitting there quiet and hidden and just sometimes, when I would accidentally look at the ring on my finger, would jump out of its hideout and yell that it was not dream, that it was real…

The summer came. I was about to finish my first year in college and was preparing to go back home for summer recess. My heart was heavy with thoughts – I was determined to drop off the school. In my head, I was constantly talking to my father explaining why I want to drop, and why I don’t want to be an engineer. I was searching for proper words and proper phrases that I would tell him. But no matter what, no matter how I would build the conversations in my head, my dad would leave the room with a deep disappointment and disapproval on his face….

And then the two days before the train it stroked me; “If you want to know what to do with our life, call me. You know how”… I don’t know how that happened. I have no idea how in few minutes I switched from denial to an acceptance. Must be my devastation, all consuming desire to find a solution.  Maybe that was that little part of me that believed… but…. Suddenly it seemed so clear. “What do you waiting for? What do you afraid of? Call her?”

She came. The very same way she disappeared before. Slowly emerged from thin air. A haze fist, then a shadow, then milky fuzzy outlines in a fog and finally she emerged from it.  This time her shroud was pearly white. She removed the cloth from her head, smiled, then with motion of her palm “dragged” the chair from 3 feet away and sat on it.

“Well?” she said

I was sitting on my bad, hugging my pillow. And I was scared again. Not a lot, like first time, but no fears free ether…

“Don’t be afraid” she said with her calm and soft voice “I am here not to harm you, but to help”

I did not replayed for a moment, then with some hesitation I asked

“What is the catch?”

“Catch?” she repeated”What catch?”

“You are going to help me, right?” she nodded; with gracious move of her head “all of my life, right?”

“No!” she replayed “Only, as long as you possess the ring”

“OK. Long enough. And for that what will I owe you? My soul?”

“Your soul? What do I need your soul for? What I am going to do with that?” her eyebrows went up bewailed.

“I don’t know… What others do?”

“Others who?” she honestly was puzzled with my conclusions. And I too had that feeling of awkward situation….

“OK”, I said ,“Forget about it. So, you are going to help me, right?”

“Yes”, she answered.

“And you don’t want anything in return, right?”

“That is not true”, she said,”Your blood is the payment. I got it in advance”

“My blood?”, now it was my turn not be lost.

“Yes. You fed the ring with your blood. That is the payment.”

“Just few drops, is that enough?

“I am a spider, not a lion – she replayed, – that is exactly how much I need”

“Oh”, I said,”I did not think of it that way”

“You are not too bright, are you?” – She did not change her ton for a bit, but this sounded very scurrilously.

“What makes you think so?” I blushed into red and felt poked.

“Just a wild guess”, she answered, “So, do you going to ask or not?”

“Yes!” I got mad on myself, the conversation was not going the way I planned,”As a matter of fact I will! I would not have called you otherwise, would not I?”

“So, go ahead, what are you waiting for?”

I took a deep breath and asked in one inhalation.

“I need to tell my father, that I am dropping the college and I don’t know how to tell it”

“Well” she said, “I am not going to answer that question?”

I flinched and froze speechless. My face probably was very funny, because she started to laugh…

That was first time she showed some emotion other than “goddesslly” calmness and forbearance.

I blushed in red again, from neck to tips of my ears, and she just kept laughing.  My pink face made her to go to the second wave of convulsions. She laughed and laughed, clapping his hands and wiping tears off.  She would stop for a moment then look at me and start laughing again…

“I am sorry”, she finally controlled herself  “It just was too funny! So honest, and funny! I did not laugh like this for long time… “

“Well”, I was pissed,”Now, when I amused you so brilliantly, shell we return to my question? I remember you promised to help me?”

“Help you – yes! But not to drop the college!”, she was coming back to her normal calmness, “You should learn now to see what is your problem and solve it. But not to run from the situation itself.”

“That is rubbish! I am not running from my problem! I am solving it!”

“Solving? By dropping off the college? That is not a solution!”

“Ye-a-h? Than what is?” Blood was pulsing in my head; I was ready to object any reasoning I would get from her.

“What is your problem?”, She asked, “College? Or the classes you take?”

“Well I take classes in the college, do I?”

“O yes, you do”, she was completely calm again, almost emotionless,” but college offers much more than the classes you hate.”

“What you mean?”

“If you don’t like the math and physics, it does not mean than you are not cut off for education… maybe you can learn something else. Something that does not includes algebra….”

“For example?” – Suddenly her words were making sense to me. I was still aggravated and rejecting, but I saw things from different angle.

“Think!” she said, “What other departments are in your college?

“Law”, I said first. I was passing by that big white building every time on my way to gym.

“Excellent” – she sheered, “How do you feel about being a lawyer?”

“I don’t know… I never thought about it… a lawyer? “I answered doubt, “I am not sure…”

“Well, you are sure about engineering, right? Give it a try! How bad that could be?”

“I don’t know… it’s a so sudden. I don’t like to make a decision so fast!”

“That is where you need me!” She smiled, “Here I can advise you! If, of course, you ask a right question”

I looked at her indecisively….

“Go on!” she spoke again, “I am Anancy, remember? A goddess?  My advices are going to be the best ones you ever get!”

“OK…  Then…” I went off from my bed and stood on front of her,” So…. Anancy…. Should I transfer to law school?”

It sounded pathetic, but she did not laugh. She looked at me, deep in my eyes with a faint smile on her lips and answered:

“Yes. You should. I do believe that that is the way you should go….”

My way back to home was not heavy after that. The simplicity and elegance of the solution gave me a feeling of brightness. Like if I knew, that from now on everything in my life is going to go well. I was sitting in the sit in the train, looking to the window and smiling.

My father accepted my desire to become a lawyer with enthusiasm. To my big surprise and excitement he said that he is proud and very glad for me. When I asked why, he answered that unlike to thousand of kids of my age; I am not going to blindly follow the choices that someone made for me. He said that he is proud to see me becoming a man. Free and with good head on the shoulders….

Fifty two years passed from that day.  I am a going to celebrate my eightieth birthday this year. My father had past away, and I am a grand-grandfather myself. I became a lawyer almost sixty years ago, thanks to Anancy’s advice. I worked for the best law firms in country, was on service of government, and now   I am member of Supreme Court. I have seen four presidents to come and go.

My judgments are fair and my opinions are respected. I shook hands with many of the strongest of this world.  My house is full and blossoms with happiness. My family is around me with my wife, 3 sons, and 2 daughters. I have twelve grandkids and 3 grand-grand kids.

I still work every day. I make decisions changing the life of generations to come.   And when a doubt takes place in my heart, and judgments are difficult to make – I know just a place where to seek for help.