Woodbridge Recollection : The Hidden Kingdom

Chapter 1: The knock at the door

  There are these times when I feel like I could be living someone else's life, instead of my own. There are these moments; moments when I'd see someone doing something, or witness some odd non-realistic activity put into pursue, and I'd think; I could do that. I could be amazing.

Ever experienced those dreams that express that idea? I have; so many times over that those dreams have become so ridiculous that I can't even think of doing them for real. I have these dreams of riding horses in some nearby forest, on a long bricked path through the trees. I've dreamed of fighting in a sword fight; fighting with some tall and dark haired stranger whose face I can never remember. Most of all, I dream of having parents. The memory is never clear but the vague idea of how they used to look has always haunted my dreams.

It was a long time ago; since I had last seen them. I remember being eight years old when they abandoned me; leaving me alone in a cold and broken tool shed in someone's back yard with nothing but the clothes on my back, a silver pendant and an odd little gold ring encrusted with a small orange gem. The pendant was small, but rather detailed. It was a sword on a waxing crescent moon.

Ironically, the home owners were away for a week at that time and only found me snooping around sometime after returning.

The memory of my parents is too specific; meaning there's very little to remember. My mother had long blond hair – almost silver – tied back and coiled into a bun or a braid. The memory of her tells me she was tall and fit. My father was tall, strong and muscular – so says my memory. He too had long hair, dark and wavy, almost always tied back. That's all I remember. I can imagine faces that look somewhat similar to my own; but the smaller details, not so much. I don't remember their ages, their eye colours, nor do I remember what their voices sound like. I can't even remember if there are similarities between them and me; my long dark spiralled mess of hair, oval face, bright hazel eyes and lips that make look like I'm constantly pouting. Did one of them have a lot of freckles, like I do? Which one of them gave me my odd little nose?

Foster houses tend to encourage orphans to forget their pasts. It helps to heal the hurt of being abandoned, or so they told me. It never helped me. If anything, it taught me that I'm better off alone; taking care of myself and depending on no one.

Pretoria is crowded place; one filled with cities that are teaming with overcrowded life. I don't really like it here, but this is where I've been my whole life. Crime and noise is a constant problem and people don't seem to care. Well, they try, I guess. People smile and nod as they walk by, but it never seems to be enough. Christians preach the good word in churches and Jehovah's witnesses knock on everyone's doors to provide news on the grace of God. Teenagers roam the public areas in groups. Girls wear so many varieties of tight fitting jeans, colourful coats and hats. Boys wear their baggy jeans and many of them wear it below their backsides too. People walk their dogs all over the place. On occasion; I'd see stray pets. When you are in trouble, no one really trusts the world enough to help you. Crime has made us all scared, despite the beauty of the neighborhoods and city infrastructure. If someone is hurt or mugged, no one really stops to help in the case they be hurt too.

I've been alone for fifteen years and I like it that way. I keep no close relations with anyone for that very same reason. I only have one friend and even that isn't the most solid of relations. Linda Swan is my work colleague more than my friend; but she has invited me to her farm several times. She's a 35 year old blond woman with an obesity problem. She's very bubbly and has a good family of her own. Her daughter is nine now, so she tells me.

My name is Zelena Galen. I am twenty-three years old and I am a teacher; a grade three English teacher. Linda teaches high schoolers in our school and runs the after school archery club. It was actually her that introduced me to weapon sports. Clay Pigeon shooting and archery mostly; I didn't get to do it often but I enjoyed it a lot. I picked up on it rather quickly when trying it out and I had to admit that I loved it. Weapons fascinate me in a way I'll probably never understand.