Graduating to Another Grade at the School of Hard Knocks

Some many people see life as black and white, while life is in reality many shades of gray. The relationships and events that are brought into our lives teach us this by exposing us to many people in different situations to see how we will react. The people we love and trust affect us but they do not reflect us. The situations our decisions put us test us to see how we will react. They are not punishments, but challenges to test our learning process.

Whether it was a karmic lesson or a challenge from this lifetime, I came to believe that what happened to me, around me, and to those in my life was my responsibility. If someone I cared about was hurt, it was my fault. If something broke or if something zigged when I thought it should zag that it was a punishment. That belief was never a truth. It was a challenge for me to over come. The who and the why of how it was reinforced in my childhood is a long story that would make War and Peace look like a novelette. I wrote those tales on pages that have been since been burnt to release the pain and guilt, but also find the love and the hope. The lessons other taught me then are on them, but how I react to them now is mine.

Three years ago a beautiful soul that I named Sophie came to my back door. She is a tuxedo kitty that was so small that I thought she was only about six month old. What I didn't know when I adopted her was that she was a Trojan kitty. Two weeks later, she had four kittens. She was so malnourished from being abandoned that the kittens were smaller than normal and she needed extra care for her to be able to care for them.

I named the babies, Izzie, Simon, Merrie, and Honey-bunny. Merrie and Simon were eager to take on the world. Their eyes opened quickly. Honey-bunny wasn't far behind. Izzie’s was a little slower. Her eyes didn't want to open, but once they did she became leader of the pride. She was clever and courageous. She was the first to explore and last to back down.

I took them to the veterinarian for the first check up at about eight weeks. I took in four healthy kittens, but two days later all of them were sick and refusing to eat. I took them back. The vet took Izzie’s temperature. It was the only difference. He gave them a different kind of worming medication. Within 24 hours, the babies started to recover except for Izzie. Initially, they were all happily eating again. But then Izzie stopped. I called the vet and was told to give her a couple of more days. Izzie started to loose weight. I force fed her water and food. I changed food and eventually went to baby food to help sustain her. Nothing I did made a difference. She weakened. I didn't want to let her go I set up another appointment with another vet for the next morning. That night she began to whimper in pain. I saw what I was doing to her. That beautiful soul was staying in a body that didn't work, because she loved me. I told her it was okay to go. That I loved her and would be okay. She relaxed and smiled a little. I didn't want to leave her, but I suddenly really had to go to the bathroom. By the time I got back, that beautiful soul had left. I was only gone a few moments. But it was the time she needed.

For a long time, I blamed myself. I emotionally beat myself with the would-have, should-have stick. The reality was that it was her time. The circumstances of her pregnancy and birth gave her a body that was only temporary. There was nothing that I could have done to fix what was not mine. It was never about me. It was Izzie's path and her choice. When I realized that she was freed of a body that did not work and I started the grieving process. That bright beautiful soul brought a love, joy, and courage into my life. For that I will always be grateful.

Last spring, I was hired to produce a business platform, including the budget, proposal, and operating agreement/bylaws, along with four videos for a new non-profit organization. I was assured that once the platform and the videos were available that the she would have the funding to not only register the organization with the state and federal governments, but she would also be able pay me for my work.

When I set the price for my work, I thought I would be some receiving help with the information gathering. I love research, but some of the budget items like the cost of renting office space would have been more efficiently done by someone who lives in the area. I asked for help, but received none. Additionally, the organization's name changed after the work began, making it necessary for me to reedit the videos that I already produced as well as the business platform. I finished and delivered my work. I asked for payment only to be told that the there would be a delay because the donor wanted to see the organization's website, which had yet to be built. I gathered the information and delivered it to the web master. The site went up. Again payment was delayed due to the time of the year. The donors had already reached their limit, but would again be donating after the first of the year. The first of the year has come and gone. Although small payments have been being made all along, I have only received a third of what is owed. I have been given more promises and excuses for why she can't pay me. Yet she has the funds to travel to political events and conferences. She is able hobnob with politicians, celebrities, and other activists, because of the work I have done. But she doesn't feel the need to pay for the work that opened those doors for her.

The tall and short of it is that the project involved much more work and took longer than I expected. Plus I did more than the original agreement, including organizing the crowd fund campaign that raised enough to register the organization with the state, but instead the funds were spent on promoting the group on Facebook.

This is not a pity party, but the realization that sometimes you do have to fight for what is rightfully yours. I did the work. I also went above and beyond expectations. I deserve to be paid. This mind set is a life pattern that I needed to address. Although, I can find rainbow in this storm, it does not absolve the other person from her obligation. She needs to pay me what she owes now.

It the past I felt guilty about asking for what was owed me. I was afraid that I would loose a friend or that there would be a negative backlash that would cause others to turn against me. This is why I have been taken advantage of in the past. I treated myself like a doormat and didn't understand why other people wiped their feet on me. I have changed this mind set. I am a bright, innovative person, who is a blessing on this world. I am caring and sharing. Now I will be so with myself as well as others.

In this case, I trusted someone, who chose to take advantage of that trust. I am proud that I was able to trust. It's a new concept for me. But I am also proud that I didn't take on the other person's bad behavior. What ever happens from now will be her responsibility.

These were two very important life lessons that I needed to learn. We are only responsible for ourselves, our actions, and the results of those actions. Although we can learn from others, we are not responsible for them or their actions. Although others' lives affect ours, they do not reflect who we are or our destiny. Love and friendship does not mean ownership. To truly love and respect another, it means that you must let go and allow them face the karmic lessons. To do anything else stunts everyone's spiritual and emotional growth. When we take on what does not belong to us, we hurt ourselves and everyone involved.


" Instant Karma is going to get you."
                                       John Lennon
Have you ever met someone and suddenly  felt love or hate? Yet for the life of you couldn't remember  them.  Would you want to  remember? Would you want to know if it could save  your life?

Never Can Say Good-bye is a paranormal thriller  feature film with the  logline love and hate survives death

http://cproduction5.wix.com/cosmos-productions-



 

Understanding Your Karmic Challenges with Astrology

Until You Walk The Path, You Won’t Know Where it Goes is internationally-acclaimed Astrologer and Psychologist, Sandra Leigh at 1:30 pm eastern on August 31 , 2012 as we talk about how Astrology helps you understand your karmic past.

Sandra-Leigh is a full-time, professional astrologer with a Master's Degree in Psychology. She resides in Boulder County, Colorado. For 26 years, she wrote a weekly astrology column for the Sun Newspapers in northeastern Ohio. She has over 30 years experience as a full time astrologer and has worked with thousands of clients from all over the United States. Sandra-Leigh teaches, lectures, and makes media appearances and is certified by ISAR, AFA and OPA as a professional astrologer. She has written for Llewellyn Publications, Horoscope Magazine and StarIQ.

She currently serves as President of the Rocky Mountain Astrologers (ROMA), Secretary and Group Leader for OPA (Organization for Professional Astrology) Retreat Intensives. She also is a Consulting Skills trainer for ISAR.

Sandra-Leigh can be reached at sandraleigh@sandraleigh.com or 303-604-2777. www.sandraleigh.com

To learn more about how to deal with your karmic challenges from Astrologist Sandra Leigh tune into http://www.blogtalkradio.com/theresachaze on August 31 at :301 pm eastern. The phone lines and chat will be available for those who wish to participate. The phone number is (347) 838-9927

The interview will be available after the show at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/theresachaze/2012/08/31/until-you-walk-the-path-you-wont-know-where-it

Waking Kundalini

Waking Kundalini
By
Theresa Chaze

What is Kundalini? By definition, it is a very important aspect of the ascension process. Staring at the base of the spine or first chakra, the energy spirals up through the other six chakras to the eighth or soul connector. The process can be a beautiful, loving experience. However, if not properly awakened, it can be life-shattering event, leading to death or mental and emotional instability. Kundalini is visualized as intertwining snakes, representing the feminine and masculine aspects of the individual, which climbs the spinal cord to connect all the chakras, including the eight, which is the direct connection to individual’s soul and the universe beyond. It is this balance that creates power and strength from the inside out.

Why would one take the risks of awakening Kundalini? It is a soul shaking, faith testing, dangerous experience, but it is also the purest connection to the unconditional love of the universe and the most direct path to the soul’s memory. It’s more than a power surge; it is the doorway to infinite amounts of love and wisdom

Before attempting to awaken the Kundalini force all seven of the chakras must be properly functioning and aligned with each other. They must be spinning in the correct direction and be at the proper vibrational level. This process cannot be forced. Each chakra contains its own lessons and challenges that must be met in the proper sequence. The aligning process is continual. As each chakra becomes stable, it must again be realigned with the others. This is a very simplistic description of a very complex process that usually takes years to complete.

Once your chakras have become healthy and stable, you may begin the process with a series of connections between energy points. The first step is to connect and balance the third eye to the Alta, which is the indentation at the bottom of the skull. This connection must be strong and self-maintaining before you move to the next step. By using healing methods, such as Reiki or Shen, place the fingertips from your sending hand on your third eye and the receiving fingers on your Alta. Starting slowly, send energy from your third eye to the Alta. When the energy flows freely, reverse your hands and send energy from your Alta to the third eye.

The pineal gland trine is the next step. The pineal gland is connected to the memory spheres in both hemispheres of the brain. The memory spheres are on a forty-five degree upward angle from the pineal gland in the center of each of the hemispheres. As with the first step, you create a balance, only this time is between three points. Starting with the pineal gland send energy to one of the memory spheres. When the energy flow is consistent and free flowing in both directions, you then repeat the process with the other hemisphere. The next step is to connect the two hemispheres with each other to complete the trine.

The third step is to connect the pineal gland with the third eye. If there is any pain or disorientation, stop the process. The connection between the third eye and the pineal gland should bring a sense of peace. If you have any other reaction, you are not ready to continue the Kundalini process. If you are wise, you will wait to begin until you are spiritually, emotionally, and physically more mature. If you are ready, the connections between the pineal gland, third eye and the memory spheres will awaken the Kundalini. However, you will not have the energy level to make it rise. By focusing healing energy on the base of your spine and the above mentioned points, you will strength and energize the energy snakes until they are capable of rising on their own. The sensations are individual. Some experience warmth, while others feel cold. It will travel up the spine connecting the chakras, through the Alta, pineal gland to the third eye, where it will loop backward to the crown and out to the eight chakra. It is at this point you will be connected to own your soul and the wisdom from all the past will open up to you.

This is not a process you should attempt to do alone. Learning Reiki or another healing touch from an experienced, ethical teacher is highly recommended. Not only will it give you the training to do much of the healing work on yourself, but also it will give you an objective person to monitor your progress. In addition, involving at least one other person in your spiritual ascension process will give you support both on a spiritual and emotional level. As past emotional experiences are brought up to be healed, they frequently become intense. By working with a close friend or experienced healer you will have a stabilizing influence to ground you during these times of stress. Always remember to be patient with yourself. This is not a competitive race. There is no shared finish line to cross. Each person has a different starting point, with his or her own individual challenges and separate goals. There is no way to compare your progress to another’s when there are no common variables. The healing process will take as long as it takes. The only timetable is that which your soul arranges for your best and highest good. The harder you push, the more elusive you goal will become. Only by be patient and allowing will the ascension process proceed.

This is only one path to Kundalini. There are many others, yet each is as powerful and individual as each person. It is more than just a power tip, but a connection to your own soul and the universe beyond. By taking this step, you are beginning the ascension process. May your path to enlightenment be blessed with joy, love and grace.

The Ascension Process: Remembering Your Soul’s Name

The Ascension Process: Remembering Your Soul’s Name

The ascension process is much like a video game. Each level has its own rules, challenges and resources. At some levels helpmates are close; on others, they the ones initiating the challenges. Each level teaches the player more about the game, making her or him a wiser, stronger competitor. At each new stage, the player is given incentives to keep going--additional resources, wisdom or challenges. There are consequences for mistakes and rewards for successes. So it is with the ascension process, which begins with a name.

When a soul claims it's name, not only does it separate itself from the soul collective, but it also claims its individuality, thereby staking claim to its own power. When the soul incarnates it sends down a piece of itself, which is called the spirit. Whereas owning its name was the beginning, the spirit remembering it is acknowledging and accepting its soul's history, which is in itself a new beginning.

More than just labeling itself, a soul asserts ownership of itself. It is the declaration "I am, the I am." Finding the strength and the courage to leave the collective is the first step on the journey called destiny; deciding on a name is just the first step in the journey. Once decided, it cannot be changed and will identify the soul for eternity, which is why it is considered the most important decision a soul can make. With each step the soul takes away from the collective, it becomes more distinctive and independent. The lessons it learns and the wisdom it collects raises its energy vibration, giving it access to more information and more intense learning opportunities. With independence comes mistakes and missteps. Experience leads to imperfections; imperfection leads to regret. However, it is this winding road with its many side paths that prepares the soul for the ascension process, which eventually leads to forgiveness and unconditional love.

During incarnation process, the spirit is prepared for the lessons or issues the soul wishes to address. Part of this process is stripping away the knowledge and memories to create a clean slat. Although, the soul retains its personality traits, it doesn't remember the details or the motivating factors behind its actions. Amnesia is not a punishment, but a way to help prevent a soul from becoming stuck in guilt and regret. By allowing the soul to start a new chapter in it Akashic Records, the soul is allowed a fresh starts with old challenges. Called the formative years, the first three years of life are when the soul redevelops its connection with the physical plane. It bonds with others and establishes communication skills. In addition, it also decides what the focus will be for this particular life; in short, which karmic challenge or lesson will be the main focus. During this time, the incarnating spirit still maintains a connection with its soul, which is why many children hold on to memory fragments of their past lives. However, as the verbal and social skills develop, these memories are usually pushed into the subconscious for save keeping. It is more important for its attention to be directed out and forward, than inward and toward the past. Toward the end of life, especially for the aged, this process is reversed as the spirit prepares to be reabsorbed into its soul and the life's lessons evaluated.

Incarnating is the soul’s way of actively learning, clearing karmic debt and connecting with others. However, whether the entrance into body is done through the birth process or through walking in, its ability to remember its karmic history is severely limited. It is part of the learning and testing process that each soul must grow through as it learns tolerance and forgiveness, while releasing its fear. How a soul reacts to challenges is also a very important part of the education. However, as the soul gains more experience through the incarnation process, the connecting cord becomes thicker and stronger. This makes the transmission of information from the soul to the spirit easier and more accurate. For more advanced souls, the loss of memory is no longer necessary for they no longer need to be protected from their past. The amnesia is designed to protect the spirit from the backlash of previous self destructive behaviors and emotions. It is impossible to erase the errors made in previous lives; however, by learning and growing from them the karmic scales are once again put into balance. The memory loss is designed to help the soul again face the challenge with the negative baggage of the past safely locked in its subconscious.

The spirit remembering its soul’s name is a turning point in the soul's growth and learning process. Just like stepping away from the collective was the beginning of a new journey, so is the spirit remembering its name the inauguration of a new segment in its existence. It signals that the incarnated spirit and soul have achieved balance. In doing so, the soul not only fully accepts responsibility for its actions, but becomes opens to receiving blessings as well. The later is the most difficult part of the process. Not only does it involve facing old fears, but also forgiving oneself for past mistakes. Most souls of light forgive others easily, but themselves not so much. Guilt and anger blocks the healing process, which in turn delays development on all levels. This is why only highly developed souls remember their history while incarnated.

If the information is made available too quickly, it is detrimental to the spirit who is not ready to shoulder the burden of the past. However, remembering and being told is two completely different situations. It is the difference of being able to read the book and being told what it says. In remembering, the soul is given direct access to its entire past--the good, bad and the ugly. A psychic who disclosures the client’s name soul name gives her or him the keys to the kingdom without telling them where the gate lays. At best it means nothing, at worse it brings back a flood of memories that the person isn't emotionally or spiritually ready to deal with, which is not unlike when a kundalini rise prematurely. As with the kundalini, sudden a sudden karmic awakening can lead to madness and death.

When the spirit and soul are in balance, the awakening is natural, which makes the memories uplifting and healing. Instead of adding burdens, they release them and open new venues of growth. Forgiving of oneself and accepting forgiveness from others is the final step in this journey; it is the release of what could have been by accepting was and being grateful for the growth opportunity. The past becomes the present while the present becomes the past. . No longer hampered, the spirit’s vibration level rises, making it ready for the next leg of journey.

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Celtic Goddesses Reawaken in a Magical Tale of Love and Betrayal

Celtic Goddesses Reawaken in a Magical Tale of Love and Betrayal
By
Theresa Chaze

Magic, romance and karmic justice combine in a new Celtic fantasy novel from Theresa Chaze. Released as an ebook, which is available on her site, as well as part of the Amazon Kindle program, Nict For Ure Selfe (Not For Ourselves) honors the Celtic Goddesses and the Wiccan tradition. Unlike most authors, who write magical fantasy, Theresa Chaze is a Wiccan Priestess who uses authentic magic in her novels. In many ways, her fiction can be considered a Book of Shadows.

After attending a local Pagan festival, Alyssa finds herself to be a target of Sheriff Deputy Nevel’s violent obsession. Her complaints only bring on more abuse. Her friends and coworkers are harassed. No one in in her life is safe from persecution. Alyssa doesn't understand why he and his comrades singled her out. In desperation, she performs a karmic ritual so that she may understand his hatred of her. Instead of a message, her soul takes her spirit back to the time when the Goddesses and Gods of old had not yet given way to the Christos and clan traditions could mean life or death. “Nict For Ure Selfe” (Not For Ourselves) a suspenseful tale of betrayal as traditions and love are tested by the changing times and greedy men whose lust for power continued into their next incarnations

Nict For Ure Self (Not for Ourselves) is available in a PDF ebook through the author’s site at www.theresachaze.com or through the Amazon Kindle program after March 21, 2008.


An excerpt:

Alyssa struck the match. Instantly, the end burst into flame. She held it to the wick of the white candle until it ignited. Pinching off the match head, she placed on the table. Taking a deep breath, she flipped her long chestnut color braid back over her shoulder; it bounced and swung around her waist. Focusing on her intent, she started the ritual. “Goddesses--Maiden, Mother, Crone I call to thee and ask that you appear to me.” Picking up the candle, she held it above the surface of the water. Its glow illuminated just beyond the rim of the black bowl and reflected off the clear surface. “On this darkest of night, grant me the portal to make things right. Let me see clearly the moments of the past, so that I may understand what is happening at last.” Tapping the edge with the candlestick, the glass on glass echoed throughout the dark room. The vibration rippled through the water. “As I created a wave in the glass, so I ask you help me with my task.” She set the candlestick next to the bowl and placed her hands on either side palms down. “Let me see where his hatred of me had begun, so that his vengeance can be undone. Why he stalks me I know not why, yet I know the answer lies in times gone by. Take me back to the time and place, so that I may end the conflict with haste and grace.” Picking up the four raven feathers, she held them above the candle. "Goddesses of the raven and night, who left these feathers as a symbol of your might. I call you now to come me, to create a justice that even the blind may see. I call your forth to this land to guide the karmic hand. For those who have done harm to me, let their reckoning begin now--so mote it be.” Placing the feathers equal distance around the bowl, Alyssa paused for a moment to let their energy settle around her.

Stretching her neck side to side, she took a deep breath and allowed her Priestess training to relax her body into a meditative state. The outer world fell away as she sank deeper within her self and started climbing the stairs to her own soul. Into the darkness, the staircase spiraled upward, until she reached the iridescent platform where her Akashic record was held. Suspended in the darkness of endless time, Alyssa looked for a guide to help her. But she was alone. In the past, there had always been someone there to act as a guide to help her face the challenge. Uncertain, she stepped up to the pedestal. If she was to atone for a past error, she would be give direction. However, if she was merely a player as another strutted and fretted through a karmic lesson, than she could do little more than watch. The book lay open before her. On it, fate continued to write. “Book of all my lives, show me karmic tie that echoes into this life.” The pages flipped, stopping twice before it came to rest on the life named Shannon Marie Cullen.

The image of a red haired young woman lifted up off the page and hovered above. Her heart shaped face still had the softness of youth. Yet the hazel eyes sparkled with old wisdom. She wore her dark auburn hair pulled back into a long, single braid. Although she seemed familiar, Alyssa felt no emotional connection to her. There was no bond or sense of being between them. Only a faint familiarity like a tune whose melody echoes in the back of your mind, yet you cannot remember the words or the context in which you heard it. She reached out to touch the image; it reached back. Yet before their fingertips touched, Shannon Marie vanished only to be replaced by a three dimensional screening of wooded forest. Rich and lush it sported multiple shades of green, tans and browns as the forest became fields and forest once again. As her perspective changed, Alyssa felt herself zooming to focus on the scene that was most important. Yet it was more than just pictures and sounds. The smell of the fields and rushing of the river below sparked memories and long sleeping emotions. No matter where her life led her, she could never find the safe sense of home. Fear always kept her from letting her roots grow too deep. She had never understood. Her childhood was no better or worse than anyone else's. Yet as her spirit drew closer, the familiarity once again made her crave the comfort of home.

Through breaks in the leaves, she saw two girls running quickly. She knew who they were, yet she didn't feel connected. Instead, like a moderated film, she watched them from above. Instead recalling her own memories, the information flowed to her in unspoken words and images as if someone was narrating their story to catch her up with the story.

Shannon Marie ran breathlessly up the glen, quickly followed by her younger sister, Rachael. Although a year and two months younger, Rachael looked more like Shannon Marie's twin. Both girls favored their Scottish heritage with their flaming hair and outspoken temperaments. Their two older sisters, Elizabeth Marie and Katherine Anne favored their mother's French heritage both physically and in temperament. Fair-haired beauties they openly used their feminine assets to manipulate others to get what they wanted. The plain spoken of mannerism of the patriarch of the family along with his two youngest daughters frequently came into conflict with the matriarch and the eldest sisters' elitism as they boasted of their unclaimable link to the French throne. They refused to see that no matter which man laid down with the mother, the child could lay no claim to parentage unless they were acknowledged by both the father and family. Jacqueline Marie Katherine de Medici may have lay with the King of France, but the daughter they created was conceived above the sheets--not beneath them. Jacqueline refused to be silenced at court about the parentage of her growing child within her. It was the reason Marie marked her for death. But instead of a curse, the midnight escaped to Scotland became a blessing as the people’s revolution sought out the privileged nobles.

In the highlands, Abigail Marie Katherine de Medici was born without a father; the fortune and power of the de Medici family hid the stain, but was never washed away. Having valuable connections in the English and Italian courts, Jacqueline was received as her family station required. Eventually she attained a small estate and fitted herself into the region. Unlike the women born in Scotland, Jacqueline, followed her de Medici heritage, keeping control over her assets and her life. But it was her wit and cleverness, which turned the small estate into one of the most prosperous in the Parish. It was the second reason Abigail was never considered a suitable match for any of the legitimate Clan heir. The heads of clans refused to allow a match unless the son would take total control of the estate and fortunes. Jacqueline refused to relinquish her power. Abigail resent her mother for it. Richard Connell had approach her with an offer of marriage; he was the second largest estate holder in the Parish and under consideration to become the next Parish Chief. Jacqueline refused and arranged a match with Shawn Jacob Michael Cullen. Only he was willing to break with tradition. Instead of insisting on control, he offered himself as steward to Jacqueline, claiming nothing for himself and agreeing to allow her to chose who inherited the de Medici affluence. The eldest son of Michael James Cullen he saw Abigail as an opportunity to restore his clan's fortunes. Reluctantly Abigail agreed; his family estate was not as large as the Connell, but his clan connection opened the path to gain legitimacy and a title. The match was made for the benefit of both families.

Shannon never thought of Seanhair as a woman of wealth and power, only as her Grandmother. None of that interested her, no matter how Seanhair attempted to entice her. She loved hearing stories about France before the revolution, but for some reason, both she and Papa were more concerned about her to becoming more aware of estate business. The month before she officially starting attending to estate business independently. Her decisions carried nearly as much weight as her father's.

Alyssa felt the connection Shannon Marie had with her father. It drew her closer to the young woman for it was something she had always wanted and never had for reasons that were beyond her control. The richness of their love bond awakened her own sadness and sense of loss. He had died before she was born. The only things she knew of him was what her older sister told her. Their mother had stubbornly refused to talk about him. Without warning, Alyssa reached out to more fully connect with the young red head. Suddenly she felt the grass beneath her feet and the breeze on her face. She was no longer an observer, but part of the drama and seeing through Shannon's eyes.

The strange feeling again crept up on Shannon Marie and she stopped half way up the hill. The strange awareness seemed to be happening more often. At first, it was only in her dreams that she could sense spirits around her. The feelings kept getting more intense and harder to ignore. But this time it was different. In a way familiar. Papa had told her that her Aunt Margaret had the same gift. She could see the Earth Folk and the spirits who had not yet crossed over. She asked Bridget to bless her with the same gift; the night of the next full moon, she had her first dream. Since then, the encounters with the dead had become nightly. Sighing, Shannon shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. But instead of vanishing the image of an older woman with reddish hair reached for her. Her greenish eyes were so familiar, yet she had never seen them before. She was not afraid, yet she was reluctant to take her hand. The spirit of the raven flew between them and the woman backed away, but did not leave.

Suddenly Alyssa felt herself being pulled away. She remained connected, yet she was no longer in direct contact with Shannon Marie. The emotional bond that had started to form had been thinned, but not broken.

The raven circle and flew back towards them. Shannon followed its flight and it brought her attention back to the hillside. She did not know why her mind filled itself with such things. It was almost as if someone was trying to give her wisdom she was not ready to understand. Each time the feeling passed, she felt that something important had happened, yet she was unable to see how it in fit in her life. She slowly started climb the hill again. It was like the lessons Seanhair was teaching her about the lands and court. It did not interest her, but her grandmother’s behavior told her that the lessons were important. None of the information was new. It was all old. Yet, it seemed so essential the closer she got to her seventeen birthday. Suddenly there were no more stories or gossip about the other clans’ secrets or stories about the French court, but a constant testing of what she had learned about the estate.

Reaching the crest, she caught up with Rachael. Shannon Marie pointed to the gathering at the bottom. “I told you Papa would make them wait for us!” She readjusted her crossbow, freeing it from the fold of her breeches. Her attire was another point of contention between their parents. Breeches, boots and wool shirts were not proper dress for ladies. Father always snapped back that if she had provided him with a son, he would have left the girls to her raising. But she had not, so she needed to be content with the two older girls. The two younger were his to raise as he saw fit. Shannon Marie was grateful he had always won. The thought of being turned into court pony turned her stomach. She disappear into the marshes first.

“Hot damn!” Diverting from the path, Rachael leaped a fallen log for no other reason that it was there and ran down towards the gathering at the bottom.

Shannon Marie stopped for a moment. The sun was warm on her face. The lush greenery of early summer was old enough to be fully developed, yet young enough to still have a multitude of shades of green. For a moment, she felt homesick as if she had been away for a long time. She blinked and the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come.



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Fiction: "Nict For Ure Selfe" (Not For Ourselves)--a Celtic Tale of Karmic Justice

"Nict For Ure Selfe" (Not For Ourselves) a brief excerpt


"Nict For Ure Selfe."
(Not For Ourselves)
By
Theresa Chaze


Alyssa struck the match. Instantly, the end burst into flame. She held it to the wick of the white candle until it ignited. Pinching off the match head, she placed on the table. Taking a deep breath, she flipped her long chestnut color braid back over her shoulder; it bounced and swung around her waist. Focusing on her intent, she started the ritual. "Goddesses--Maiden, Mother, Crone I call to thee and ask that you appear to me." Picking up the candle, she held it above the surface of the water. Its glow illuminated just beyond the rim of the black bowl and reflected off the clear surface. "On this darkest of night, grant me the portal to make things right. Let me see clearly the moments of the past, so that I may understand what is happening at last." Tapping the edge with the candlestick, the glass on glass echoed throughout the dark room. The vibration rippled through the water. "As I created a wave in the glass, so I ask you help me with my task." She set the candlestick next to the bowl and placed her hands on either side palms down. "Let me see where his hatred of me had begun, so that his vengeance can be undone. Why he stalks me I know not why, yet I know the answer lies in times gone by. Take me back to the time and place, so that I may end the conflict with haste and grace." Picking up the four raven feathers, she held them above the candle. "Goddesses of the raven and night, who left these feathers as a symbol of your might. I call you now to come me, to create a justice that even the blind may see. I call your forth to this land to guide the karmic hand. For those who have done harm to me, let their reckoning begin now--so mote it be." Placing the feathers equal distance around the bowl, Alyssa paused for a moment to let their energy settle around her.


Stretching her neck side to side, she took a deep breath and allowed her Priestess training to relax her body into a meditative state. The outer world fell away as she sank deeper within her self and started climbing the stairs to her own soul. Into the darkness, the staircase spiraled upward, until she reached the iridescent platform where her Akashic record was held. Suspended in the darkness of endless time, Alyssa looked for a guide to help her. But she was alone. In the past, there had always been someone there to act as a guide to help her face the challenge. Uncertain, she stepped up to the pedestal. If she was to atone for a past error, she would be give direction. However, if she was merely a player as another strutted and fretted through a karmic lesson, than she could do little more than watch. The book lay open before her. On it, fate continued to write. "Book of all my lives, show me karmic tie that echoes into this life." The pages flipped, stopping twice before it came to rest on the life named Shannon Marie Cullen.


The image of a auburn haired young woman lifted up off the page and hovered above. Her heart shaped face still had the softness of youth. Yet the hazel eyes sparkled with old wisdom. She wore her hair pulled back into a long, single braid. Although she seemed familiar, Alyssa felt no emotional connection to her. There was no bond or sense of being between them. Only a faint familiarity like a tune whose melody echoes in the back of your mind, yet you cannot remember the words or the context in which you heard it. She reached out to touch the image; it reached back. Yet before their fingertips touched, Shannon Marie vanished only to be replaced by a three dimensional screening of wooded forest. Rich and lush it sported multiple shades of green, tans and browns as the forest became fields and forest once again. As her perspective changed, Alyssa felt herself zooming to focus on the scene that was most important. Yet it was more than just pictures and sounds. The smell of the fields and rushing of the river below sparked memories and long sleeping emotions. No matter where her life led her, she could never find the safe sense of home. Fear always kept her from letting her roots grow too deep. She had never understood. Her childhood was no better or worse than anyone else's. Yet as her spirit drew closer, the familiarity once again made her crave the comfort of home.
Through breaks in the leaves, she saw two girls running quickly. She knew who they were, yet she didn't feel connected. Instead, like a moderated film, she watched them from above. Instead recalling her own memories, the information flowed to her in unspoken words and images as if someone was narrating their story to catch her up with the story.


Shannon Marie ran breathlessly up the glen, quickly followed by her younger sister, Rachael. Although a year and two months younger, Rachael looked more like Shannon Marie's twin. Both girls favored their Scottish heritage with their flaming hair and outspoken temperaments. Their two older sisters, Elizabeth Marie and Katherine Anne favored their mother's French heritage both physically and in temperament. Fair-haired beauties they openly used their feminine assets to manipulate others to get what they wanted. The plain spoken mannerism of the patriarch of the family along with his two youngest daughters frequently came into conflict with the matriarch and the eldest sisters' elitism as they boasted of their unclaimable link to the French throne. They refused to see that no matter which man laid down with the mother, the child could lay no claim to parentage unless they were acknowledged by both the father and family. Jacqueline Marie Katherine de Medici may have lay with the King of France, but the daughter they created was conceived above the sheets--not beneath them. Jacqueline refused to be silenced at court about the parentage of her growing child within her. It was the reason Marie marked her for death. But instead of a curse, the midnight escaped to Scotland became a blessing as the people's revolution sought out the privileged nobles.


In the highlands, Abigail Marie Katherine de Medici was born without a father; the fortune and power of the de Medici family hid the stain, but was never washed away. Having valuable connections in the English and Italian courts, Jacqueline was received as her family station required. Eventually she attained a small estate and fitted herself into the region. Unlike the women born in Scotland, Jacqueline, followed her de Medici heritage, keeping control over her assets and her life. But it was her wit and cleverness, which turned the small estate into one of the most prosperous in the Parish. It was the second reason Abigail was never considered a suitable match for any of the legitimate Clan heir. The heads of clans refused to allow a match unless the son would take total control of the estate and fortunes. Jacqueline refused to relinquish her power. Abigail resent her mother for it. Richard Connell had approach her with an offer of marriage; he was the second largest estate holder in the Parish and under consideration to become the next Parish Chief. Jacqueline refused and arranged a match with Shawn Jacob Michael Cullen. Only he was willing to break with tradition. Instead of insisting on control, he offered himself as steward to Jacqueline, claiming nothing for himself and agreeing to allow her to chose who inherited the de Medici affluence. The eldest son of Michael James Cullen he saw Abigail as an opportunity to restore his clan's fortunes. Reluctantly Abigail agreed; his family estate was not as large as the Connell, but his clan connection opened the path to gain legitimacy and a title. The match was made for the benefit of both families.


Shannon never thought of Seanhair as a woman of wealth and power, only as her Grandmother. None of that interested her, no matter how Seanhair attempted to entice her. She loved hearing stories about France before the revolution, but for some reason, both she and Papa were more concerned about her to becoming more aware of estate business. The month before she officially starting attending to estate business independently. Her decisions carried nearly as much weight as her father's.


Alyssa felt the connection Shannon Marie had with her father. It drew her closer to the young woman for it was something she had always wanted and never had for reasons that were beyond her control. The richness of their love bond awakened her own sadness and sense of loss. He had died before she was born. The only things she knew of him was what her older sister told her. Their mother had stubbornly refused to talk about him. Without warning, Alyssa reached out to more fully connect with the young red head. Suddenly she felt the grass beneath her feet and the breeze on her face. She was no longer an observer, but part of the drama and seeing through Shannon's eyes.


The strange feeling again crept up on Shannon Marie and she stopped half way up the hill. The strange awareness seemed to be happening more often. At first, it was only in her dreams that she could sense spirits around her. The feelings kept getting more intense and harder to ignore. But this time it was different. In a way familiar. Papa had told her that her Aunt Margaret had the same gift. She could see the Earth Folk and the spirits who had not yet crossed over. She asked Bridget to bless her with the same gift; the night of the next full moon, she had her first dream. Since then, the encounters with the dead had become nightly. Sighing, Shannon shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. But instead of vanishing the image of an older woman with reddish hair reached for her. Her greenish eyes were so familiar, yet she had never seen them before. She was not afraid, yet she was reluctant to take her hand. The spirit of the raven flew between them and the woman backed away, but did not leave.


Suddenly Alyssa felt herself being pulled away. She remained connected, yet she was no longer in direct contact with Shannon Marie. The emotional bond that had started to form had been thinned, but not broken.


The raven circle and flew back towards them. Shannon followed its flight and it brought her attention back to the hillside. She did not know why her mind filled itself with such things. It was almost as if someone was trying to give her wisdom she was not ready to understand. Each time the feeling passed, she felt that something important had happened, yet she was unable to see how it in fit in her life. She slowly started to climb the hill again. It was like the lessons Seanhair was teaching her about the lands and court. It did not interest her, but her grandmother's behavior told her that the lessons were important. None of the information was new. It was all old. Yet, it seemed so essential the closer she got to her seventeen birthday. Suddenly there were no more stories or gossip about the other clans' secrets or stories about the French court, but a constant testing of what she had learned about the estate.


Reaching the crest, she caught up with Rachael. Shannon Marie pointed to the gathering at the bottom. "I told you Papa would make them wait for us!" She readjusted her crossbow, freeing it from the fold of her breeches. Her attire was another point of contention between their parents. Breeches, boots and wool shirts were not proper dress for ladies. Father always snapped back that if she had provided him with a son, he would have left the girls to her raising. But she had not, so she needed to be content with the two older girls. The two younger were his to raise as he saw fit. Shannon Marie was grateful he had always won. The thought of being turned into court pony turned her stomach. She disappear into the marshes first.


"Hot damn!" Diverting from the path, Rachael leaped a fallen log for no other reason that it was there and ran down towards the gathering at the bottom.


Shannon Marie stopped for a moment. The sun was warm on her face. The lush greenery of early summer was old enough to be fully developed, yet young enough to still have a multitude of shades of green. For a moment, she felt homesick as if she had been away for a long time. She blinked and the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come.


As with the island and their people, the greenery was young and old at the same time. She did not regret stopping to honor the forest peoples and her ancestry even if had made them late. It was part of her tradition. Leaving them bits of food and coins every full moon in their circle was such a small thing, but it was enough to honor all those who had gone before. She was happy and at peace.


Below, parish men and youths were preparing for May Day. It was their time to boast and show off their skills with bow, horse and sword. Only the best could chase the spring maiden in hopes of marrying her. Last year, Papa had persuaded the Parish Chief to allow her represent the family in some of the events for the younger boys. She had done well coming in second with her cross bow and third with her sword. This year she planned to be first. She still missed working with her bow. But she was never able to compensate for the budding impediments as she grew older. It hurt terribly when she released the bowstring and it hit her chest. She switched to the crossbow. Michael had teased her so she pushed him face first into the river. He jumped up sputtering. Rachael and Scott had laughed at them both when he eventually caught her and paid her back in kind. Rachael was going to be able to compete this year with her staff. It would be her first time.


Scott had been sent to the monastery, not for religious reasons, but to get him the education he would need to properly represent the Parish and his clan. No longer did the English court respect the old ways. In order to gain the regard of the English, they needed a representative that spoke their language and understood their customs, while still being linked to the Parish. Scott was chosen for his instinctive good nature and quick mind. He knew how to get around the monks, while still being able to keep his faith and learning everything he could from them.


Shannon Marie sighed. They all missed him; Rachael had not been the same since he rode off. The two of them had a soul connection. Although it had been stretched, it had not been broken. At night, they visited each other in their dreams. Once Shannon had been awakened by Rachael talking in her sleep; at the foot of Rachael's bed, Scott stood, watching her sleep. When he saw her, he smiled and vanished like a ghostly apparition.
Shaking her head, she cleared the gloomy thoughts from her mind. It was going to be a glorious day. In the afternoon, she would compete; that night, she was going to be presented to court. Seanhair was going to announce she was naming her legal heir to the de Medici titles and estates. Even with her little knowledge of court, she knew it was going to be a rude surprise to many.


From below, Papa called her name and waved her to come join them. For a moment, she stood there looking at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. He could not be considered tall, yet he as not short. His posture was that a proud man, who knew the meaning of work and warfare. Held back in a silver clasp, his chestnut color hair hung just past his shoulders. A full beard partially covered his oval face. Across the distance, she could not see the bluish-green of his eyes, yet she knew they held an equal amount of love and impatience. Shawn Jacob Cullen liked order; she never managed to meet his standards, but he loved her anyway. Smiling, she treaded down the path. The bushes gently brushed against her like angel wings as she quickly joined them on the field. Each of the clans were separated in a semi circle around the field of combat. Although it was called combat, the only event which permitted physical contact was the for the young men who had earned enough points to compete for the spring maiden. But that was not for the younger competitors; only those who had been invited by respect or by winning the challenge ever learned what happened deep with in the forest. But Shannon had no interested what the rutting beasts, as Papa called them, did in the forest on Beltane night; her only concern was making Cullen clan proud.


"You were late my little Elf." Papa chided loud enough for the others to hear.


"Tonight is the full moon." Shannon looked up into his bluish green eyes. "I needed to honor our ancestors and tonight I won't be able to."


He winked. "The Clan Elders are doing you a great courtesy. You need to honor them by arriving on time. You dishonor our clan by making us all wait."


"Yes, Papa." Shannon nodded and walked to the judging table where the other elders were gathered. She stood before them and slightly bowed. "I have dishonored my family by my tardiness. I was honoring my ancestors. That isn't an excuse. How may I make amends?"


"Heathen! We waited for nothing." Richard Connell grumbled. "She should be back with the rest preparing the feast!"


Shawn Michael clenched his fists and marched to stand beside her, squaring off with the slightly older man. "My daughter was paying respects. As she was taught."


Shannon Marie turned to face the Parish Elder, hoping that the wind would not change and she remained up wind of him. His particular branch of the Connell family had only a passing familiarity with water and soap. If he had not left the old ways, he would have not complained so loudly about her honoring them. Her eyes drifted down to the scar on his right hand and arm where he had scraped off the tattoo of the horned snake. Feeling him staring, she met his hard hazel eyes again; only this time she refused to look away. "I meant no disrespect to the Parish council." She kept her voice even, but her fear made her voice quiver.


"Many of us still follow the old ways." Shawn stepped between them, pushing his daughter behind him. "Both religions are honored. Both are accepted equally."
"That will soon change." His short hair glistened in the sunshine as he jutted his chin forward in defiance.


Rumor had it that he cut his hair short to please the Christos; through them, he intended to steal control over the Parish. Shannon Marie heard her father and Seanhair talking. But they never seem to finish the conversation once they knew she was listening.


"Silence!" The Parish Chieftain's voice ran clear among the trees. Laird George Francis Macdonald was the eldest member of the Clan council; a man of age, yet he retained the aura of strength and distinction. The passage of time had settled on his shoulders. No longer was he the young warrior who fought for Bonnie Prince Charlie. Nearly twenty years before, he became chief when his uncle, Ronald Connell died without an heir. Laird Malcolm Michael Howard Connell's choice was much debated before his death, but afterwards his wishes were not challenge by anyone besides his nephew, Richard. Fifteen years younger than George, he had to settle for being second in line for both the Parish Chieftain and head of his clan. Laird Macdonald focused on his shorter kinsman and continued, his voice unwavering; time had not begun to touch his dynamic spirit "Your objection was noted and dismissed. I am still head of our clan and this parish. You will be silent!"


Even through she knew the Connell clan was a close cousin to the Macdonald--George and Richard were blood cousins, Shannon Marie could see little resemblance. Although they had the same black hair and angular features., the Macdonalds were lean and strong, being used to hard work both with the plow and sword. Many members became courtiers in the British court and in times past, the French. Although the Connells were still lanky, their cousins towered over them both in statue and breeding. Whereas the Macdonalds and the other cousin clans valued learning, the Connells recognized nothing but brute force. Last year, there was more than a little teasing of Keith Connell. He was nearly two years her senior, yet she still had the height to look him in the eyes. She had not heard what was said, but laughter caught her attention. Suddenly Keith spun around, his white knuckled fist flying towards her face. Michael had jumped in front of her and took the punch. He was knocked backward a step, but did not fall. His exposed shoulder redden at the point of impact, but did not bruise. His cousins laughed harder. Keith sulked away, rejoining the elders members of his family clan. That next morning several of the Macdonald's horses were found with their throats cut.


Richard Connell bowed his head but there was no respect in his posture. He bushed the white carnation and turned to speak quietly with his many sons. There were rumors that his branch of the clan had tried several attempts to reawaken the old feuds by inciting the passions of the younger, members of his clans and others. He promised them power and rewards beyond their imaginings. Several younger men left their clans and joined in the private discussion. Their voices rumbled together, becoming a single unintelligentable protest. Squaring his shoulders, Laird Macdonald stared at them. His green-gray eyes stared silently at them. One by one most discreetly separated themselves and returned to stand behind their family elders. Those that remained did not seem to notice their ranks had diminished.


"Child, rejoin your clan." With wave of his slender fingers, he carelessly dismissed her and walked to the center of the semi-circle. "Greetings Kinsman and Clans. We have a glorious day!"


"Eye, Laird Macdonald." Quickly, Shannon bowed and looked up at her father. "Did I do it right Papa?"


He nodded as he led her back to the Cullen clan. "Stay away from Connell and his brood. He is--is unpredictable."


"He's a horse's ass" Seanair grumbled, brushed back his graying red hair and looked over his shoulder at the Connell family talking in a tight bunch. Unlike Laird Macdonald, age had weighed heavily upon her father's father. A blacksmith by necessity, his hands were scared and roughened by decades labor. Although Shannon Marie had never seen him work the anvil, she heard stories. It was said that the people of the forest once came to him late one evening, asking him to repair one of the rune blades of old; it was said to be one of same family of runic swords as Excalibur. For his service, they blessed him and his line with special gifts of sight.


"Why do they hate us so?" Shannon looked from Papa to his father. "And if they do, why are you letting Elizabeth Marie marry William Connell? They don't really like each other."

The men looked between one another and Papa shook his head. Kneeling down, to her eye level, he tilted her head up to further focus her attention on him. "There are reasons, child. Reasons you cannot understand. But it is necessary to make peace. Your sister understands and she is willing. All you need to know is she will receive the title, but you, my little elf, will keep the land because it belongs to your Seanhair. Not to me. "

"Shawn Jacob, it's a terrible thing to do the child." Seanair continued to grumble. "It will only make it worse--for everyone."


"It is her Seanhair's wishes. I am keeping my word to her." Shawn stood. "Besides the Laird Macdonald gave his word--"


"The man is dying and that ass Connell intends to usurp Parish leadership. We all know it--but the words never seem to be spoke."


"Shannon Marie," Papa cut him off and turned to her, "they are getting ready for the archer competition."


"I'm not entered. Only the crossbow."


"Go watch them any way."


"Papa?"


"Go child." Gentle Shawn Jacob pushed her toward the other contestants. "For now you needn't hear these things. There will be time enough later."


Shannon Marie slowly walked away, trying to hear what they did not want her to know. But they said no more until she was out of earshot. She did not understand what they meant. How was Papa making it worse? Seanair said he was doing something terrible. Papa would never. And never to a child, especially his own. Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she dismissed the conversation as her misunderstanding.


The connection between them was suddenly severed. No longer in the spiritual realms, Alyssa snapped awake. The phone rang in the other room. She ignored it. This late, it could only be one person and she had no wish to listen to his abuse.


The candle had burned itself out. The room was dark except for the light shining in through the window. She wasn't sure if it was the sliver of the moon or the streetlight at the corner. It didn't matter. Awkwardly, she stood and stretched the kinks out of her limbs. She wondered how late it was. Not that it mattered. It's not like she had to worry about being at work the next morning. No longer satisfied with following and harassing her, Deputy Nevel's intimidating tactics spread to her employer and co-workers. Alyssa complained verbally and in writing, as did her co-workers. Their complaints fell on deaf ears. After nearly a month of reasonless traffic stops and searches, she found herself suddenly no longer welcome at the clinic. Officially, she was laid off, but she had no expectation of returning. Too many had been frightened; too many blamed her for it. Alyssa understood. If she could magically escape the torment she would--that was the purpose of the ritual.


Walking back into the living room, the bright lights temporarily blinded her. She blinked until her eyes adjusted to the light level. The clock read 1 am. She had been away for almost an hour. Her stomach growled. On her way to the kitchen, she checked the answering machine. She had missed three calls. She checked the caller Id. All three had been blocked. Reluctantly she picked up the micro-recorder and pushed record. "August 1, 2007." She pushed play on her answering machine.


The computerized voice responded. "Three new messages. First message receive 12:20 am."


The familiar male voice followed. "I know your there. Answer the phone bitch!" He paused. "Not answering the phone won't help you. I'll burn your house down around you! Thou shall not suffer a witch to live!" He hung up.


"Message received 12:30 am."


"Are you going to call your devils to torment me. It won't work. You'll be dead and they'll be gone. Just one bullet." The call ended.


"Message received 12:55 am."


"You can't hide--"


Suddenly another voice spoke in the background. "One adam six--"


The phone call abruptly ended.


Alyssa shook her head and turned off the micro-recorder, putting in the drawer. Calling the police and reporting the threats would do no good. The blue wall protects its own, especially when it's the sheriff's nephew. But there are other ways of getting justice. Every one of the calls had been combined with pictures of the six deputies involved and put up on YouTube complete with the full names, ranks and departments. The codes to the videos had been shared not only in the Wiccan communities but well beyond into individuals' blogs and new articles. No matter what happened to her, their names would be forever tagged with the details of the festival and the telephone messages.


No longer hungry, she continued into the kitchen and turned on the small light over the stove. She might not want to eat, but she needed to. The harassment and threats did have a bright side; she did loose twenty pounds in the last month and a half since her first encounter with Nevel at the yearly SCA sponsored Renaissance Festival.


It had been mid afternoon when a half dozen stubble headed men forced their way into the festival. Ranging in age from mid to late twenties, they screamed how evil they were and started destroying the displays. On their own, none of them could be considered imposing or threatening, but as a pack, their furor was magnified. They were lanky without much to distinguish them either in the way of looks or personality. The tallest had the darkest hair; the rest ranged from dark brown to blonde. The one of the six came to where she had been reading Tarot cards. Although he was the shortest one of his group, he had the biggest attitude. Walking like a John Wayne wanna-be, he reached over to upturn her table. Alyssa jumped between him and it. He shoved her. She pushed back. He pulled his deputy badge out of the back pocket of his jeans and flashed it in her face, screaming he was going to arrest her for assaulting an officer. Stunned she stepped to the side, but did not give ground. Changing her position brought her downwind of him and she could smell the alcohol, which seem to seep from his pores. Brown haired and hazel-brown eyed, he stared at her with contempt. On the collar of his brown shirt, he wore a confederate flag with blue cross encircle in the center. The rage in his eyes made her flinch. It seemed so personal to him, yet Alyssa had never met him before. How could he hate her without knowing her? He grabbed at her and she stepped out of his reach.


A crowd gathered, heckling, surrounding the six and interceding between Alyssa and her attacker. Two of the uniformed city police, who had been keeping the fundamentalist from harassing the festival goers, arrived and quickly separated them. Nevel screamed that she had attacked him. The crowd shouted him down. Alyssa had marched across the distance and informed the officers she wanted to press charges. The one turned and pointed at the one who attacked her, saying that he was the sheriff's nephew and it wouldn't be happening. The uniformed officers briefly argued with the six before escorting them out. Another city officer, pointed at her and said, "You weren't hurt. Don't push it or you will be." Many sleepless nights those words echoed in the darkness. She hadn't dropped it. They had no right to harass them. Monday morning she had filed an official complaint. Sheriff Nevel had dismissed her grievance and threatened to arrest her for filing a false report. That night the phone calls began. That morning she contacted the newspaper and the prosecutor. She wasn't going to let the matter just simply drop; she had been threatened for no reason and she wanted justice. Two weeks later, she was interviewed by a Detective. On the way home, she was stopped and ticketed for illegal beeping. The harassment escalated.


Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out the bag of cheese and took out a handful of the squares. Zipping the bag closed, she put it back on the shelf and closed the door. It had been almost a month, since the interview. Each time she was harassed, she informed the detective in charge of her case. Although he seemed to be sympathetic, he did nothing. She turned off the light and walked back to her bedroom. Finishing the cheese, she slipped into bed. Trying to find a comfortable position, she tossed and turned. She missed Pixie and Dixie. They would curl up next to her and purr as she fell asleep. She missed them, but she loved them too much to keep putting them at risk. They would stay with her sister until things blew over or she was able to move. Lying alone in the dark, the idea of dropping the complaint seemed real attractive; but she knew that no matter what she did, Nevel wouldn't just let it drop. It was simply going to have to play out until to the end. Spiritually, she reached out to her furkids. Sensing they were safe, she relaxed enough for sleep to over take her.

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