Niko’s Eye

Chapter 50.

Belvia.

She sat on the balcony, sewing and knitting. Belvia had decided to give Isis space, as she knew that she was the one who was in the wrong.

There were plenty of skeletons in the closet and this was just the tip of the iceberg, so for Belvia, Isis’ reaction was expected. All she could could wish for was for time to rewind, so she could give Aisha a better childhood.

A difficult childhood presents particular problems in how to move onwards into adulthood. There is the need to form a solid foundation rather than being given one as others have through having a functional family. It is challenging, yet possible. Try not to rely on others to provide it, because if they leave it’s an issue. One way is to edit your history as if it were a photo album. Visit the good memories often. The bad memories you don’t suppress, you simply let them be, don’t visit them deliberately. They are pages in the album you don’t visit, that’s all. There is making friends and romantic relationships, there is self development such as your passions, career and sport. There is faith and spirituality if you choose. Finding balance is key. Loving yourself is essential. Let good luck come. A child cannot earn such bad luck and so karma will try to balance things out by bringing you good fortune. The good universe will seek opportunities to lift you up, but only if you chose the whitened path.

A difficult childhood should be a rare thing, a chance for healthy communities to bond around a common cause, to show love for a child that is one of their own. This is how it would be in a functional world, because the ratio of needy to those with energy and love to give would be in balance. So, let us dream of this better world, this love-nexus, and be willing to see how the money-nexus creates such societal harm.

In a good and just world, childhood would be a great launchpad for the innate talents and joys of all children. On behalf of the adults, we are sorry, so very sorry, that this world is not. We are working on it. We have talents. We are looking for opportunities to make this world fit for you. Every child deserves love and protection, you do too.

But on the other hand, my poor birdie has been through so much. The last thing she needs is for her grandmother to be telling her that she has something to do with how Aisha has chosen to live her life. Thinking about it, she hasn’t even been able to catch a break. Poor child. The devil has zero interest in you, my child, for what was made by the divine creator must return to the divine creator. To him you are the bug and he so enjoy’s pulling off your wings and watching your suffering. But it’s nothing personal. How could the devil be personal with a bug? No. It is simply a devil of a game. What Satan is after is the destruction of creation, to destroy Earth and all her life forms, to watch them suffer and die. The first step to winning this game is realising that you are in it.

Belvia pulled her box of cigars out of her dress pocket and lit one up.

"Santa Maria, help me."

She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth on the rocking chair that Alejandro had gotten for her.

That boy is a diamond. He holds Isis in his hands like she’s a golden egg. That’s love. A love that so many can only dream of. I hope they sort out their issues and get to loving each other, freely.

"Oh birdie..."

Alejandro.

Daily paper, cheese and earl grey tea - Aleajndro couldn’t start his day without them.

He’d been propped up in his winged arm chair, half moon glasses on, giving the paper a shake after each page turn. Without fail he’d find a story that would set him off on a rant and in those moments of pink-cheeked rage he could be no happier. Finding societal faults in his daily paper was what kept his mind and engine ticking over. After reading the paper, he sat in his study, trying to get some work done, but his mind was troubled.

Aisha had called him from the prison she was held at, threatening to denounce him if he didn’t help her escape.

It’s not that he wanted to adhere to her threats, it’s just that he didn’t know if he was ready to pay for all of his crimes.

But these are crimes that are based on word of mouth. There is absolutely no evidence to anyone of them. It’s my word against hers. I need to talk to Isis. See how she feels.

When I’m feeling triggered the world and everyone it is behind fifty feet of glass. Loving bonds become inaccessible. In this mode I have to take great care not to damage bonds of love, the relationships and people who are everything to my heart and soul. For in time the glass disappears and my love returns. I wish I could stop the triggering, but if I feel unprotected or left to fend for myself it returns - it is survival mode, cold and indifferent. Yet even in these times I am cognisant of my morality. I still make good choices. I can still imagine what the better version of me would want me to do and then carry that out. I can’t undo the trauma I’ve been through, but I can adapt and overcome.

As a young boy, I loved the daisy flowers for their daring simplicity, their tenacious spirit, growing where they weren’t supposed to and yet bringing more beauty to our street. In the springtime the daisies sprouted to the dismay of the gardeners, their perfect lawns looking more like the meadows they yearned to be. I never thought about the meaning of the daisy flower until I was a man, too old to be making chains in the late afternoon sun. The daisy is about loyalty to love and commitment, and I’m all about that. My garden is for the cornflowers, the poppies, buttercups and, of course, the daisies. Grasslands are natural communities not monocultures. That’s why lawns are such hard work, they’re going against the natural way.

He took a walk around his mansion and strolled into the garden, smiling at the neatness and organisation of the flowers according to colour and speciesism.

Alejandro had a secret thing for gardening and agriculture.

Daisies have never been welcome in the city gardens or the streets of Barbados. Most of the time, all you would get is The stripes of grass between the perfectly square beds are a uniform green, the only variations coming from which direction the lawn-mower past over. Yet this morning, shining like a perfect miracle, there is a daisy bejewelled by dew. Her newly opened petals, held outward like a ballet dancers arms, reflect the morning rays. I bend onto my knee to glance at the flower; common though she is just to see this daisy brings something to my morning that has been missing these many months.

He strolled up and down his garden, his troubled soul showing onto his creased forehead.

He used to be one of those guys who’d say, "If you stay with me I’ll kill you bit by bit. That’s what I do to those who love me. Why, I’m not altogether sure. But when you soar high I’ll drag you down. I’ll stir up your anxieties just to be the one to soothe you and help you to find fault with anyone that competes for your attention. This is about as fair as I can be, it’s your warning. So if you’re still here in the morning you’ve chosen that life and if you know me at all you’ll realize this isn’t a joke. So, my smitten lover, you have some thinking to do."

You have to wake up. You have to wake up, and soon. It isn’t just you either, everyone needs to awaken or we all die. We die and planet earth dies too. Earth will spring back and reboot in a few million years, but it will start from scratch again. That’s the only scary thing I’m allowed to tell you, it falls under the galactic rules of "fair warning"- after this statement all fear for fear’s sake is forbidden. Why? You’ll find that out in our conversations. I won’t give up on you. I won’t leave you until you are awake because that is my mission and I love you. I don’t promise to be perfect, never to get frustrated or moody, but I’ll always return to help you once I’ve cooled off. There is a way out of this mess and it’s so easy you won’t believe me if I tell you right now, you’ll leave our conversation and carry on as you were before, believing that anyone who advises otherwise is a crack pot. Indeed, if anyone asks why you are still talking to me, still carrying on, you have my permission to tell them that "waking up is a load of nonsense" and I’m "interesting because you want to understand mental illness." That’s fine with me. But when you are awake you’ll have a choice to make. Change and help to save this planet and every living thing on it, or go back to sleep in the false safety of "being normal." Who am I? Don’t worry about that now, we’re going to get to know each other really well. Time to begin, there’s a lot of wool to pull from your eyes.

But now, he was somebody else. That was why he just had to turn himself in. There was no other way. He chose this path and he couldn’t go back.