Visitor (Normila / Laurmani)

Chapter 1

A/N: I really want to take my time with this fic and improve the quality of writing over my past stories; although, they are entertaining. In an ongoing effort to make myself try new things, this book will be sci-fi/fantasy.

It was a rainy day in May in San Antonio, Texas. A beautiful, 24 year old, black dancer and actress named Normani had just left the studio where she perfected her craft. Since she was a little girl, all she wanted to do was dance, act, or design clothing. Preferably, she would like to do it all, but things don't always turn out as planned. It's well-known that it is hard to break into the artistic and entertainment fields. Everyone around Normani knew this and tried to convince her to pursue other career paths, but she persisted with the belief that she would one day make it.

Even though this region of Texas was in its rainiest period of the year and had been experiencing flash flooding for the past week, the young woman had forgotten to carry an umbrella with her. Her girlfriend tried to get her to watch the news or at least check the weather every day to no avail. This girlfriend always derided her for being absent-minded and not planning ahead, but Normani loved the spontaneity of the unknown and living in the moment.

Rain was falling heavily as she jogged to her green 2000 Honda Civic with little dings on its body caused by a hail storm from the year prior. It wasn't pretty, but it was good on gas and got her from point A to point B. Her studio was near a city park which was normally void of people during weather like this, so it was an odd sight to see a young woman standing on a trail staring at the treetops while getting drenched by the downpour.

The young woman looked lost and might even have been a little disoriented. Normani usually avoided situations like this. There was an abundance of mentally ill homeless people in this city. Her girlfriend always told her that she can't help them all and that they knew where to go if they wanted help. She was also warned of the dangers of approaching people like this, but something prevented her from simply getting into her car and driving away. The woman just looked so sad and confused.

Normani threw her bag into her trunk. Ignoring the fact that she was becoming soaking wet, she jogged over to the woman standing on the trail. She looked to be around Normani's age; had long, dark hair; and a slender figure. She fit in with the majority Hispanic population of the Alamo City in her pink t-shirt and form-fitting jeans. Normani stopped about five feet away from the woman not wanting to get too close until she assessed the situation.

"Ma'am! Do you need help?" Normani shouted over the loud sound of the showers pattering against the ground. The young woman removed her gaze from the treetops and placed it on Normani. She looked at the dancer as if she were studying her face. This made Normani a little uncomfortable, but she persisted in her quest to help the stranger. "I know this city pretty well. I can give you directions. I can even tell you which bus you can take, but you're going to have to speak to me. Can you hear what I'm saying?" Normani considered the possibility that the woman could be deaf.

"I have nowhere to go," said the young woman lethargically.

"Are you homeless?" Normani inquired.

"My sponsor...he died. I came from far away, and I have nowhere to go," explained the woman still coming across as being disoriented.

"Where are you from?" asked Normani.

"I'm from a different land. I came from very far away. I don't know what to do."

"Are you from a different country? You sound American. Are you from Canada?" Normani questioned.

"Yes. Yes, that's where I'm from. I'm from Canada," stated the woman.

Normani continued to question her, "Can I give you a ride somewhere? Anywhere? You're going to get sick standing here in the rain, and it's not going to let up anytime soon judging from the weather this past week."

"I have nowhere to go," the woman repeated.

Normani was at a loss for what to do. The woman obviously needed help, and she didn't want to leave her there. For all she knew, the woman could be a con-artist or out of her mind, but something inside of her would not allow her to leave this woman stranded. "What is your name?"

"Arkamilaktinus."

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Normani asked.

"Arkamilaktinus," repeated the woman.

"Oh...um...Can I just call you Camila for short? I heard it once when my girlfriend was watching Univision."

"A nickname?"

"Yes, a nickname. Do you mind?"

"No," responded Camila. "Can I go home with you?"

Normani wasn't sure how to let the woman down. She didn't know how safe things were in Canada, but in the U.S., it was not common to take a stranger off the streets and let her into your house. "Uh...I don't think my girlfriend would approve. I wish I could do more to help you. Can I take you to a shelter or maybe the embassy?"

"They can't help me. No one can help me. I'll just wait here until I can go home."

Normani was starting to feel as if all she could do was leave the woman be. There was nothing much else she could do, but she tried one last time to offer the woman something. "Can I at least buy you something to eat?"

"Eat? Food. Yes. Yes, I could use some sustenance. Thank you. Thank you very much."

"Well, we're going to have to get in my car so I can drive you to a restaurant. Is that okay?" asked the dancer.

"Yes. You are a very kind person. You represent your land well," Camila replied.

"Thanks," said Normani puzzled by the woman's behavior. She knew that Canada had a slightly different culture, but it was almost identical to America's. "Let's get out of the rain now. My car is the green one over there."

"Yes, we should. Thank you kind person." Camila followed Normani to her Honda. They got into the vehicle dampening its cloth seats with their wet clothes. As Normani turned the key in the ignition, she took a deep breath and prayed she was doing the right thing.