The Moments that Make US

This story is all just one big part

The land has a certain feel to it. A silent story that whispers when the wind howls, screams when the branches of trees long dead and alive break and fly away in the wind. The rivers run like blood, warm and free; rock eyes watch as the world changes around them. Leaves float in the breeze as if to sing a silent lullaby to the flower children. Flowers bloom and wilt, a silent symphony of emotions swirling in the wind as petals fall to the ground. It is on this summer night that a girl, no older than five or six, ventures out into the world to dance in the rain; her restless mother's screams for her child lost in the mayhem circling.

The little girl, Myah James Sterling-Kincaid, the child born of nature and everything life giving. This child, taken from her bed when she was small, the only thing left from her memory with them a little grey elephant named Freud. When with her parents, Myah was a curious child, always finding something to get into, to find out how something worked. This trait, particular trait never changed. While Myah was growing and learning new things, her parents searched for her, endlessly. Her mother was nothing but a mouse of a woman with no distinct features aside from her eyes—eyes so black there was no distinction between the iris and the pupil. With chestnut brown hair, high cheek bones, a slightly crooked Roman nose; like it had been broken a time or two; her lips were a rosewood pink and her skin the color of a dark Honduran Mahogany.

Myah's father, Seth Kincaid, not your everyday average Joe, was . . . mysterious, to say the least. Her father had a certain air about him, quiet but deadly; his gaze was that of a predator, cunning and clever, his green eyes like that of a panther. Seth had a sleek figure, the lithe body of a runner with hints of underlying strength, black hair, green eyes, and a tattoo on each bicep. The tattoo in his right bicep was decorated with scrolling black letters that read, "Semper Fi." The one on his left bicep, with the same pitch black ink and the same swirling lines, this one read, "Brotherhood."

It was as if Seth was disguised to look and act normal, but he couldn't seem to play the part for long. He was always observing, never had his back turned where someone could easily be lying in wait. He was the protector of his family and he did not take his job lightly, yet, when Myah was taken, he changed. Her father became your normal "average Joe" kind of guy. As if by taking Myah, they had taken him as well. Of course, the same could be said for both parents. Myah's mother, Alice Sterling, had been a spit fire before her daughter was taken; but when Myah was gone, Alice shut down. Her mind had taken it upon itself to shut out the world and dive into work. The only time that Alice did show what she was feeling was at night when her husband held her in his arms and they cried. They cried for everything; for not know if their daughter was alive, not knowing if she was okay. They cried for not knowing what they had done; may it be this life or a past one; that had so wrought this abhorrent, crippling grief. What had they done, that fate had chosen to give them an angel only to rip her away along with their hearts and souls?

The years had passed without any leads as to where Myah could be or who had taken her. Little did they know; Myah was close. She was in the same town that she was born in, the same town that she had lived in with her parents, the same town where they would find her. Myah had just had her fourth birthday and kept having the same recurring dream.

There was a woman, with eyes like hers, looking down at her. The woman had dark skin and was wearing what looked to be a man's white-button down shirt and medium dark jeans. Beside the woman stood a man with his right arm wrapped around the woman's shoulders. The man wore a black t-shirt and dark jeans. He had black hair and green eyes. When the man looked at the woman and kissed the left side of her head there was a strange gurgling sound; like that of a happy baby. The sweet lilting sound brought the man's attention back down to her and his eyes had changed from a grass green to a warm, dark emerald. The man may not have smiled or changed his expression, but the look in his green eyes displayed everything she needed to know. The man looked at her with undying, unrelenting love. The woman's lips lifted into a smile that revealed straight white teeth, and the expression on her face was pure joy. The woman then reached down and picked Myah up and held her in her arms while the man smiled; his eyes still contained the same look, but his face had the same look as the woman's. The man reached into the woman's arms and held Myah against his chest. The woman smiled and left the room, the man hardly noticed -- too caught up at looking down at her like he had found a long lost treasure. Then he opened his mouth and spoke.