"We Create Magic When We Do What We Love" Lianne Arends Author Utopianista A Message From Our Ancient Ancestors ​ Naran Stalwart is a young, introverted scientist who lives by logic and breathes facts. Imagine her surprise when she’s invited by a mysterious and secretive civilisation, called the Didelians, to be initiated into their ancient knowledge. The Didelians surfaced after the Second World War. Nobody knows who they are or where they came from, but one thing is clear: they are not like other humans. As a rational scientist, Naran is a skeptic of the supernatural. However, when she learns why she was chosen by the Didelians, Naran feels a deep conviction to accept her apprenticeship. Once she does, the young scientist enters an unpredictable and exhilarating existence beyond the realm of human possibilities. Naran’s rational plans and her perception of who she thought she was are thrown into a tailspin. While Naran struggles to understand if she’s losing or actually finding herself, she discovers that the history of humanity isn’t what she thought it was, and that the stakes of completing her training are much higher than she could have imagined. Will Naran bring back ancient knowledge, when the one thing she isn’t allowed to do, fall in love with her mentor, feels unavoidable? ​ The book series "Godyssey" is a modern grail quest that explores the roots of humankind. The books are filled with messages from the Antediluvian world that have survived throughout Mesopotamian, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, and Medieval times and that are destined to resurface today. ​ Godyssey launches October 10th on Substack! Read Online! Read the first illustrated chapters here "A Life Lived in Fear is a Life Half Lived" If the themes of GODYSSEY have ignited something within you, my personally guided sessions offer a space to dive deeper. My coaching sessions are designed to guide you on a transformative journey, helping you explore and integrate the wisdom of GODYSSEY into your own life. We’ll explore the ancient wisdom, spiritual insights, and transformative messages of the series, applying these lessons to your personal path. Through self-inquiry, reflection, and tailored guidance, these sessions are an opportunity to unlock personal growth, find clarity, and strengthen your connection with yourself and the world around you. Book a coaching session today and embark on a journey of self-discovery or elevate your writing to the next level. ​ Make an Appointment Personalized Consulting: Deepen Your Journey Short Stories Read The Story ​ My story Without Curtains is the WINNER of the 2022 San Miguel Writer's Conference Fiction Writing Contest The Godyssey Book Series About Me In 2004, as I was looking out over the Eiffel Tower with a book from Isabel Allende in my hands, I suddenly knew: ​ I was going to write a book about the initiation of a modern woman into ancient mystery teachings. ​ Little did I know that I had to wait eight more years to start the process. Until then, I studied French literature at the Sorbonne IV in Paris, creative writing at Boston College, and political science at the University of Amsterdam. ​ In 2012, when the story finally started to flow, I instantly gave up my marketing position in Silicon Valley and moved into a self-built campervan. I desired to visit the locations where the book would take place in the USA and Europe. This amazing journey gave me the time to study ancient mystery teachings. I delved into Kabbalah, The Knights Templar, Ancient Greek and Hebrew, the Quadrivium, Egyptian mysteries, Norse mythology, and plant medicine. Topics I wilfully weaved into my speculative fiction books that had now become a whole series: GODYSSEY Godyssey is one Wild, Magic Realism, Action Packed, Perspective Shifting, Boundry Crossing, and Halluconegenic Grail-Quest. ​ Publishing the Godyssey: Are you a Literary agent or a Publisher? Feel free to reach out! First name Last name Email* Phone Message* Submit Read the Article Interview in Dutch Magazine GRAZIA about Living without a Mobile Phone In the USA for 4 years Listen to Episode An interview about THE GODYSSEY on THE SKEPTICAL SHAMAN PODCAST by Rachel White ​ Featured GODYSSEY HOME SUBSTACK More

GODYSSEY HOME SUBSTACK More Naran Stalwart is a young, introverted scientist who lives on logic and breathes facts. She has a promising career working in a laboratory. When a young scientist discovers the Ancient Mystery Teachings... The world changes forever Home Book 1 Read Chapter 1 A Hallucinogenic Book Series GODYSSEY ​ Naran is confronted with unexpected lessons around her deepest desires and fears. Her rational plans and her perception of who she thought she was are thrown into a tailspin. Guided by Kai, the charismatic Didelian man who is assigned to be her mentor, Naran uncovers perennial wisdom from ancient times, visits the Didelian Tree of Life, and learns that human history is not what she thought it was. Meanwhile, it dawns on her that the stakes of completing her training are much higher than she could ever have imagined. ​ When Naran discovers that the Didelian invitation is rooted in secrets withheld from her by her family, she has no other choice than to accept the apprenticeship. ​ And the moment she does... The Didelians surfaced after the Second World War. Nobody knows who they are or where they came from, but one thing is clear: they are not like other humans. They travel around the globe with a massive stone arena in which they perform magical shows, and for which the tickets are sold in a raffle. ​ Imagine Naran's surprise when she's invited by the Didelians, a mysterious and secretive culture, to be their apprentice. The Didelians don't communicate with anyone outside their camp. Yet suddenly, they seem intent on teaching Naran about their ancient magic practices. ​ The only problem is.... Naran, a rational scientist, doesn't believe in magic. At night, she lounges on her sofa with her dog Luna and watches Netflix series. Her life is comfortable and predictable. Just how she likes it. The young scientist enters an unpredictable and exhilarating existence full of surreal magic that transports her outside the realm of human possibilities. While Naran struggles to understand if she’s losing or actually finding herself, her captivating and distracting relationship with Kai complicates the situation. And so does Idum, Kai's ex-partner. An Epic Magic Realism Adventure Series GODYSSEY © 2023 Lianne Arends Will Naran bring back ancient magic, while natural disasters, rapid climate change, unexpected adversaries, and her attraction to Kai, threaten her initiation?

Without Curtains For two years, Cecilia had been planted like a tree in her apartment on the third floor at the Kerkstraat in Amsterdam. She suffered from social anxiety, which meant that she had a tremendous fear of being around people, causing uncontrollable panic attacks during which her face would become bright red, her hands would tremble, and her thoughts would falter. As a child, Cecilia worried all day at school that she would draw attention to herself, and at night, this fear kept her awake. She dragged herself through college, mostly by drinking booze, and then got a job as a young copywriter at a magazine. She never fully understood how she got through the application process. When she was asked to have an interview about a possible promotion, she snapped. She couldn’t breathe, her limbs went numb, and she bolted out of the office. From that moment, she found refuge in her apartment. It was her safe space, as the outer world felt terrifying. Groceries, Cecilia ordered online. She called her family and friends on the phone, but she wouldn’t allow them to visit. Her parents didn’t know what to do. Cecilia was a grown woman who was allowed to make her own decisions, and Cecilia made it clear that she didn’t want to leave her apartment. She said she simply couldn’t—apart from her biweekly two-minute walks to the trash cans, during which she hid in her hoodie. For money, Cecilia worked on online copywriting gigs. Her dream was to become an author, but she felt that her lack of real life-experience prevented her from writing anything interesting, as she had been hiding most of the time. In her apartment, Cecilia watched TV and online shows, read books, and worked on hobbies such as knitting hats. Mostly, she stared out of her window into the street. That’s how one day, she noticed the brightly lit studio apartment right across from hers, also located on the third floor. How come Cecilia had never noticed it before? It seemed that all of a sudden, the window of the apartment was very visible from her living room, like a brightly lit movie screen. Everything inside was crystal clear. Then Cecilia remembered that the apartment used to have curtains and had been dimly lit. Now, someone new had moved in. It was a young woman, not much older than Cecilia, who had pushed her bed right up against the window. When she lay in it, the crown of her head was clearly visible. The young woman liked to walk naked in her apartment, and Cecilia felt embarrassed to watch. She probably didn’t know that Cecilia could see her, or perhaps she just didn’t care. But it was impossible not to look. Over the next few weeks, Cecilia witnessed parties in the young woman’s apartment, and wild solo-dance sessions late at night. She saw the men she took home with her after dates, sometimes two at the same time. She watched the young woman make video calls, cook meals, and walk around with wet hair after showers. She also witnessed the more quiet moments during which the woman would read books and watch movies. Cecilia felt upset that she was able to see everything. There she was, stuck in her apartment, with no life, and across the street now lived a woman who was everything Cecilia was not. The young woman had friends, experienced joy, and lived a seemingly easy life. She left her house whenever she wanted, without a second thought, while Cecilia stayed inside biting her nails. Cecilia both admired and hated the young woman at the same time. After a few months, the woman got a boyfriend, a young man with whom she seemed perfectly at ease. They had the most shockingly eccentric sex, whenever they wanted, and anywhere. Their lean and attractive bodies constantly rubbed up against each other, and they stayed long mornings in bed making love. Cecilia couldn’t imagine ever being like that. Her most recent love interest, who she had met through Tinder, had never made it to her house, nor did she to his, since it had made her too nervous. Eventually, she ghosted him—not on purpose, but because she was overwhelmed. While Cecilia watched, the new couple across the street grew closer. They danced intimately to slow jazz music, fed each other cookies and cakes while lying on the sheets, rubbed each other's shoulders, and he even painted her toenails. They told each other funny things since they laughed a lot. In fact, they laughed more in one morning than Cecilia had laughed in an entire year. Cecilia felt frustrated. For years, that window across the street had meant nothing to her; she had barely ever noticed it, but now, it was all she could look at. She was unwillingly confronted with a life she didn’t want to be a part of, as an accidental voyeur, and she was becoming addicted to it. It felt like binging a reality show, without paying for the entertainment. She knew it was very inappropriate, but no matter how often Cecilia told herself not to stare at the window anymore, she couldn’t stop. Sometimes Cecilia thought about telling the couple she could see them so clearly. She fantasized about walking over and ringing their bell, asking them to cover themselves in their most intimate moments, but Cecilia knew she didn’t have the guts to face them. She thought about writing a note saying “I can see you!”, and taping it to the woman’s window. But that, too, felt too confrontational. A few times she tried closing her own living room curtains, but it made her room dark and small. She needed her window into the world, it was the only real connection with the outside she currently had. Cecilia decided that she had to accept the situation and learn to live with it. And so she did. She conformed to the idea of the woman across the road being there, and her partner. Their naked bodies, their eccentric sex at random hours, their dancing in the middle of the room, and their shoulder rubs simply became a part of Cecilia’s daily life. She saw the love birds as the perfect symbol of what she would never be. Another year passed during which Cecilia didn’t leave her apartment, and during which the young woman across the street didn’t buy curtains. At that point, Cecilia didn’t even want her to. Cecilia felt oddly too connected; the woman and her partner now felt like friends. Sometimes, it even felt as if their lives were what kept Cecilia going. The couple distracted her from her anxiety. They made Cecilia feel more functional. That’s why, when the apartment turned dark without warning, Cecilia felt extremely unsettled. There was no more activity behind the window. The lights stayed off at night, and during the days no one was there. Cecilia wondered if the young woman had suddenly moved without her noticing. But how was that possible? Her bed and other pieces of furniture were still there. Perhaps the couple had broken up and the young woman went on a sabbatical. Or perhaps, she had had an accident. Cecilia felt strangely abandoned by her neighbors. She had grown so attached to the couple across the street, that now she was upset that they hadn’t said goodbye. She felt more alone than ever. Without the young woman’s life to distract her, Cecilia focused fully on her social anxiety again, and it started to take up the majority of her thoughts, as it had before. Meanwhile, she convinced herself that she felt relieved that the young woman was gone. She was no longer forced to be an accidental voyeur. It was better that way. After two months of complete darkness, the lights across the street suddenly turned on. But it wasn’t as before. The studio apartment was lit at early hours, and that never happened, as the young woman never went anywhere early. But even though the room was brightly lit, Cecilia didn’t see anyone. The room remained completely empty. Periods of darkness were now interspersed with early mornings during which the lights were on, but the room remained always empty. Another two months later, on a day hot summer’s day, Cecilia unexpectedly saw a man sitting in the window. He looked up into the sky, and then down into the street. He was wearing a rather unflattering gray t-shirt that stretched tight around a small potbelly. He had hunched shoulders, and his half-long hair fell in lifeless strands along his face. Cecilia thought the man looked sad. It took one to know one. He sat there for hours looking out of the window, and over the next few days, he remained there. Cecilia couldn’t figure out who he was, or what he was doing there. Then a woman appeared in the room as well. She was standing right at the window by the bed, naked. She was bald, and her body was so skinny that she looked like a skeleton. A shock went through Cecilia’s body. She realized she was looking at the couple she knew so well, but they had completely changed. The young woman was clearly sick, and it was serious. Her eyes lay deep in her face and her cheekbones stood out sharply. She barely had breasts anymore, and her skin lay loose over each rib below. Her body looked like it was made of porcelain that could break at any moment. Cecilia guessed that the woman had gone through chemotherapy and that she was now recovering. The young woman mostly stayed in her bed. Cecilia could clearly see her bald head; it looked so much smaller than before. Her partner was mostly there with her in the apartment. He would make her food, read her books, and stroke her arm, chest, and head. The tenderness between the two deeply touched Cecilia. How could this have happened? The woman was so young. Cecilia had been watching the couple across the street for over a year, but now her focus on them became obsessive. They were the first thing she checked every morning, and the last thing she looked at before going to bed. She expected the young woman to gain weight and health, but she didn’t. If anything, she was only getting thinner. And Cecilia grew increasingly worried. She became afraid that upon waking in the morning, the woman wouldn’t be there. Her symbol of a healthy life was withering, and sometimes it felt as if Cecilia was withering with her. Six months later, a few days after Christmas, people gathered in the apartment. Cecilia panicked as she guessed that they were there to say goodbye. A young man Cecilia had never seen before paced through the house. Her brother, perhaps. Or that of her partner, as he somewhat looked like him. Then there was a young woman present who somewhat looked like her neighbor, in her healthier days. Her sister, possibly. A middle-aged lady sat next to the bed and didn’t leave, except for when she went to the bathroom. It was her mother, most likely. Tears rolled down the woman’s face, and Cecilia thought of her own mother, whom she hadn’t allowed to visit for over three years now. A lump blocked Cecilia’s throat and she cried together with the rest, unseen. She thought about her own death, and how no one would be there to say goodbye. All day, people came and went, and Cecilia sat in her living room, watching. Eventually, everyone left, except for the partner and the woman’s mother who was incessantly wiping her eyes. It was late at night. Candles were lit and both sat next to the bed. Cecilia saw a black shadow in the back of the room waiting patiently, and instantly she knew it was death, there to take the young woman. The mother climbed into the bed beside her daughter and stroked her face tenderly, while the young man stayed sitting and held his beloved’s hand. The room filled with so much affection that the shadow of death disappeared, but only temporarily. When it returned, it had grown in size. It approached the bed while Cecilia pushed her fingers into her sofa. She knew it was time and she held her breath. The shadow covered the bed, entirely, and veiled the emaciated body of the young woman with its dark cloak. The young woman’s chest went up and down one last time, and then it stopped. Cecilia exhaled. It was done. The young woman was gone. The young man laid his head on his departed partner's shoulder while her mother rested her hands on her daughter's chest. They lay there for a long time as Cecilia watched. In her memories, she could see the couple dancing through the room, happily, and having breakfast in bed. She remembered their dinner parties and their eccentric sex. She remembered their kisses, their caresses, and their joy. Now the woman was gone, and he was still there. And the mother. And Cecilia, an invisible third person at the deathbed. Cecilia watched the room for a long time, and then she went to bed, but couldn’t sleep. She saw the death scene over and over again. She felt abandoned. She didn’t get to say goodbye. All this time, she had expected the couple to fight, break up, and move on, like most people their age. But she never imagined their love story to have such a tragic end. A separation decided by illness. The next morning, Cecilia walked directly to the window. In the room, a coroner and his assistant were pulling the body of the young woman to the edge of the bed while wearing white plastic gloves. The body of the woman looked shrunken and almost transparent. She didn’t look human anymore. It was the first dead body Cecilia had ever seen and it made her shudder. In the back of the room stood the partner. He had empty eyes. Behind him, Cecilia saw the mother. She was hiding from the horrid scene. The coroner and his assistant wrapped the young woman’s body in a sheet and then zipped her into a vinyl bag. They placed her on the gurney and rolled her out of the apartment. The partner and mother followed. Cecilia thought it seemed unnatural and sterile. When the mother returned to the room, she folded the blankets and stacked them on the empty bed. Then she left. And so did the partner. Cecilia didn’t work that day, nor the next, nor the days after. She was in mourning for someone she had never met. A few days later, the partner returned to the apartment and lay in bed, alone. He was totally changed from the first time Cecilia had seen him. He no longer looked young. He looked experienced, mature—too mature for his age. When he got out of bed, he danced through the room, alone, to jazz, as they had done together. He stayed in the apartment for a few days and then disappeared. Without a warning, without a goodbye. And Cecilia stayed behind. Alone. Locked inside her apartment without anywhere to go. But something had changed inside of her. She, too, had matured through the experience. She felt that she had a duty to make something of her life. Find love, dance to jazz, have eccentric sex, and enjoy breakfast in bed. Cecilia decided that she had to start living, as it could be over at any time. And most importantly, she had to go see her parents. But first, she had to write about the young woman across the street. She couldn't talk to anyone she knew about it, but she had to get it out. And so she wrote, for days. She wrote about everything that she had seen and felt. And when she was done, she sent it to a book agent. Then she booked an appointment with a behavioral therapist and left her home for the first time in three years. It was terrifying, but Cecilia knew she had to push herself into situations that scared her. She had to. She had to learn how to live. She owed it to the young woman who no longer could. One month later, Cecilia was invited for an interview by the agent she had sent her story to. It came as a shock, and she felt terrified. For a moment, she felt tempted to lock herself up in her apartment again. But when looking at the window across the street, where a new neighbor had hung curtains, she knew it was impossible. She couldn’t stay in, not after what she had experienced. One year later, Cecilia’s novella “Without Curtains” was published; she had to present the book in front of the press. It was terrifying, but she did it. Her family and friends were all there, and so was her new partner with whom she often danced around her the living room. She dedicated the book to a woman whose name she didn’t know and whom she had never personally met, but who, by dying, had saved her life.

Five to six. Instead of standing patiently in front of my building waiting for my ride, I am kneeling next to a bag that doesn’t want to close because its content is three times the size it should be. Yesterday, I had scrupulously gone through my wardrobe and chosen appropriate clothes and shoes for all possible weather. My idea of traveling light and fashionably had turned into me dragging three non-matching bags and a dog bed from my apartment building. Traveling somehow never comes easy to me. I t is hard for me to fall asleep. I find myself twisting and turning until I slowly drift off into a light slumber. My thoughts weave through dream-like visions and when I wake up, I feel exhausted. Frustration rages through my veins. Why can’t I control my nerves any better? I feel like a child the night before a birthday! When I look out the window it’s still dark. I turn around and see the digital numbers on my alarm. Four o’clock. I will be picked up at 6. One more hour of sleep, at least. I turn again and make a vain attempt to doze off, but I know it’s pointless. My brain is awake, my body is restless and it’s better to get up and eat an early breakfast. Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 5 Minneapolis, Minnesota October 27th 2014 The Ride “So… this is Naran,” he says with an amused tone in his voice. The Didelians know my name. And my address. But how? I’m too shy to ask. “We are very happy to have you with us, Naran. Please take a seat in the car and let me take care of your luggage.” “Oh… thank you,” I answer and push the last things into my bulging bag. I hide my blushing cheeks by staring toward the ground. The Didelian man picks up the dog bed and three bags at once and lifts them into the large white jeep. Once we’re on our way, the man introduces himself as Swenron. I only nod. I don’t know what to say, nor do I ask him anything. Now that sadness and timidness are distinguished, Swenron seems to understand that I need some time to warm up. In silence, I stare out of the window into the streets of Minneapolis while my mind is revolving in nervous circles. We turn on to I-35W North. The Didelian performance Arena is set up in the Flambeau River State Forest in Wisconsin, which is a 3.5-hour drive. The man turns on the radio. Nobody knows where the Didelians are originally from. They have traveled the world with their spectacle for decades. It started in Florida in 1970, when a gigantic stone Arena appeared out of nowhere in a grass field during a full moon night. Curious passers-by were invited to see a spectacle so magical, that stories about it instantly spread all over the world. Ever since, the Arena and the camp stay for three successive full moon nights in the same location, after which the Didelians travel on, in a long caravan of rolling wooden houses, to a new destination. Nobody understands how the Arena can vanish so quickly and appear again the following show night. It is a mystery how the gigantic stone Arena is set up and taken down. It comes and goes, just as the Didelians. Upon leaving, Luna almost pulls me face down the concrete stairs of the apartment building and I quickly grab the banister. In the process, I let go of two bags that roll down over a highly surprised dog that now hurries down even faster. One bag opens in the staircase. Underwear and socks fly in all directions. Horrified, I look down. While I’m kneeling at the bottom of the stairs to retrieve my items, I hear a car approaching in the distance. I glare at Luna whom I hold responsible for this mess. When the car arrives at my house, it pulls over and a man steps out. “Hi,” a happy and warm voice greets me while I am still immersed in my messy exodus. “Hi…” I look up and try to smile politely. Apologetically, I glance at my clothes that are spread all over the pavement. To make things worse, Luna is running around with a bra and jumps happily up to the stranger. He has long, braided, red hair, which falls all the way to his waist. His skin is pale, and he is covered with freckles. With these features I expect him to have light blue eyes but when I look more closely, they are dark brown. His clothing is unmistakably Didelian; it is colorful, decorated with beads and made of rough leather, suede, and wool. It doesn’t look anything like the clothes I’m used to. The soft shoes he wears have fur linings. His winter jacket has a large hood with bright yellow colors that give this man a joyful and lively glow in the early morning. The man smiles broadly, pets Luna and crouches down to give me a hug. “Borrowed,” he says while looking at the car. “Nice,” I say timidly. I take Luna and push her impatiently into the backseat while I jump in the front. The man’s movements are smooth and elegant. When he sits down in the driver seat, he looks at me and I stare at my hands. His disarming smile and friendly eyes make me feel less nervous but still I can’t believe what’s happening. I get to spend three months with the most mysterious and desired group of people on this earth… Part of me questions whether I am a victim of a well-organized prank, or if they are going to lock me up for trespassing. When the man scrutinizes my face, his expression suddenly changes. “You’re disappointed,” he says with a voice that shifts into a sad minor chord. “You expected something fancy, something typically Didelian. A flying car of some sort perhaps.” I look at the man, puzzled. “You’re sad,” he adds. “Oh, no. I’m not sad, or disappointed. This is my shy face.” “Ah!” he sounds relieved. “You’re shy, not sad. Good.” I laugh. “Didelians are not often shy,” he explains. “Sad, yes.” “I see,” I nod while he starts the car. This is going to be an interesting ride. Swenron drives fast; we pass endless green meadows, lengthy forests, and numerous lakes to which Minnesota owes its name ‘Land of Ten Thousand Lakes’. I’m quite happy to leave the city behind. Even though there are beautiful parks and beaches in Minneapolis, the state capital, its downtown is always flooded with traffic, honking horns, and fumes. I look at Swenron from the corner of my eye. The Didelians are generally taller than the average person, have thicker hair and fair skin of which is said resembles silk. When paying attention to their looks, they could easily be mistaken for Nordics. Their behavior is as mystical as their looks. Didelians are thought to have ‘supernatural’ qualities. They are known to defy gravity and have even been seen flying. They also communicate differently than we do. Rumors say Didelians talk directly through the mind instead of using spoken words. It is said that they can go for days without using their voice. But their shows are what distinguishes them the most. Their shows are outright mesmerizing. Many claim their shows are an optical illusion, while others say they are magicians with special powers. Didelians never speak about their origin, nor have they ever answered any questions. Scientists haven’t been able to do DNA research to find their genetic roots. What we do know, is based upon our own assumptions. Almost two months ago, on the 10th of August, the Didelians arrived at the Flambeau River State Forest in Wisconsin, right on the state border of Minnesota, where they will stay at least until the full moon of November the 10th. The Didelians are extremely private. From the moment it is set up in a new location, the camp is closed off from visitors. But today I am joining them, and I will stay with them when they depart to their next location. I do not know where we will go. Nobody does. Never before in history have the Didelians invited someone to travel with them. It’s an unusual punishment for my trespassing. Maybe they’ll have me clean stables and carriages without any breaks. But it is better than jail, I suppose. Swenron breaks the silence when he decides to share a personal story. I’m guessing it’s an attempt to ease into conversation. “Once,” he says, “I had the hiccups for a year.” He smiles and scrutinizes my face to see how I respond. I hesitantly smile back. “I couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried,” he continues. “Not even Gaoul tea helped. You don’t know what Gaoul tea is, of course, but you’ll find out soon. It’s delicious. My hiccups were so bad that I couldn’t even hold my cup straight. I went to everyone I could find for advice, including Deeri, whom you’ll meet. She said it was a test; I had to learn to live with imbalance in my life. Well… it wasn’t a figure of speech. I was as imbalanced as I could be.” The strange story makes me giggle and Swenron continues. “You see, Naran, dear old Deeri finds purpose in everything.” “It must have been difficult for you,” I say softly. “It was hardest on my wife. The hiccups continued at night too. After a few months, I discovered a pattern. The time between hiccups was as following: short, short, long, very long, short, long. Once I cracked the code, I learned how to move with the hiccups so that my liquids wouldn’t spill anymore.” Swenron laughs. “I started swaying with my hiccups. People thought I was dancing. They started to call me ‘Swaying Swenron’. The hiccups passed years ago but they still call me by that name. And so can you.” I laugh. This man is quite strange. While Swaying Swenron concludes his story we take a right turn onto a dirt road and I recognize the location. In the distance I see a dark forest and behind it, a large building towers into the sky. I get goose bumps looking at it. It is the Arena.

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I chuckle since I know exactly what happened. While on the phone, Psyrah likes to sit on a small bench in her highly organized apartment while curling her frizzy black hair around her finger. I guess the bench had equal difficulty dealing with Psyrah’s enthusiasm. Psyrah the calm and Psyrah the frantic. It is as if she has two personalities. From the few words I was able to actually understand, I deduct the context. She is talking about the Didelian show. Still, I don’t understand her excitement. We don’t have tickets. Neither Psyrah or I have ever seen the show in real life, and tickets are very hard to get. To acquire them you have to participate in a state lottery. The Didelians were in Minnesota a very long time ago, and we hadn’t won any tickets then, nor did we get tickets this time for Wisconsin. For us, the Didelian show will remain a childhood fantasy. “Psyrah, I know they are in Wisconsin, but we are not going.” “What do you mean, we have tickets? How?!” “Oh no! Really? Your poor uncle, what are the chances? Having a funeral in Kentucky on the same day… That’s ultimate bad timing. But what about your cousin Marge? Doesn’t she want them?” “Ah yeah, of course, that whole side of the family will be in Kentucky. And Jeff?” “No, of course, I want the tickets! What do you think? But everyone in your family would want them. I don’t want to take something that’s not rightfully mine. Imagine, we might get attacked by one of your crazy cousins!” “OK. Yeah. I understand. So, it’s for real. We have… Didelian Show tickets…” When I realize what’s happening, my brain goes on a slight strike. I suddenly understand the magnitude of the situation. Now Psyrah’s frenzy makes more sense. ​ ​ Chapter 6 Chapter 8 Chapter 7 Minneapolis, Minnesota October 23rd 2014 Psyrah's Luck When Psyrah calls, she has a feverishly excited tone in her voice and is tripping over her tongue. I can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. Psyrah, who is such a quiet and composed young woman, has lost it. “Cool down!” I laugh. “What on earth is going on with you?” “Didelians! Didelians in Wisconsin!!” She says more but I have to move the phone away from my ear. Her words are more comprehensible that way. Suddenly, I hear the sound of breaking wood, a loud thump, and then all is silent. ​ Later, Discovery Channel had verified his stories. Wild animals indeed come from outside of the Arena into the ring and performed with the Didelians. After finding no rational explanation for this phenomenon, Discovery officially denominated the Didelians ‘the Wild-Life Whisperers’. The animal phenomena started rumors in the seventies that Didelians were diabolic hypnotists. The church forbade Catholics to see the show. The pope had even devoted a part of his Easter Speech to it from the St. Peter Square, in Rome, in 1986. Since then, there have been a good amount of fanatic anti-Didelian activist groups throughout the world. I remember Fox News, in the nineties, making statements. They hypnotize us! We have to protect our children against brainwashing! The Didelian shows started major discussions about the true intentions of the culture and their magical powers. Some people seemed to favor the idea of banning the Didelians from the United States, but luckily this never happened. In the beginning of 2003, the United Nations released a statement in which they reminded governments worldwide of the status of the Didelians. They are protected as refugees and have been granted the freedom to perform without restrictions in all the democratic nations of Europe and the U.S.A. Still today, the American and European governments are expected to assist the Didelians when needed. When I asked morfar why the governments don’t question this UN ruling, he said no government wants involvement in such an obscure and heated international matter. I asked him why and he avoided a straight answer. I am not sure he knew either. Psyrah’s news hits me like a bomb. We are we going to see… the Didelians. I have known about the Didelian shows since I was a little girl. The only people I know that have ever gone to the show are morfar and mom. They went years before I was born. Ever since, morfar has talked about ‘The Magical Show of Didelis’ to anyone who would listen. When I was young, morfar told me stories about the phenomenal acrobatics, the indescribable colors, the enchanting music, and the unbelievable towering Arena. He had tried to describe the show to both my brother and me. For us it was our favorite bedtime story. “The lights, they come from out of nowhere!” He had said. “And the music! The music comes from the underworld creatures in the center of the earth, and it travels all the way through the Arena. Eventually it even comes from the chairs!” The animals were my favorite part of the Didelian show in morfar’s stories. “Every time, every single time they perform,” morfar would say, “wild animals come from the woods and join the performance.”

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W obbly and confused, we stumble out of the Arena. Outside, the night sky is clear and crisp. A lustrous line of stars forms a celestial smile that brightly welcomes us back to reality. Broadly, I smile back, thankful for the three-hour experience we have just had. While deeply inhaling the fresh air, my sensory world gradually shifts back to normal. I turn around and look once more at the colossal stone building while everyone moves sluggishly forward. The crowd slowly proceeds in the direction of the vehicles, and it feels as if we’re all awakening from a dream. Looking to the left, I see the camp in the meadow. The dark wooden cabins have small round windows through which warm lights shine. Each cabin has a different colored lantern pending in front of its entrance. I think of the main performer from the show and wonder which cabin is his. I don’t have much time to look for it since the herd of people moves on slowly. The legends and rumors say the Didelians are very strict when it comes to privacy; after the performances, the audience isn’t allowed to leave the path. Snooping around the cabins in search of performers is strictly prohibited, and I quickly give up my mischievous idea of finding the man who captivated me for the last three hours. Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Flambeau River State Forest, Wisconsin October 24th 2014 Monstry’s Surly Demeanor When my feet bump into something soft I almost trip. Confused, I halt my march to see what I have stumbled over. In the darkness, I distinguish two large green eyes that peer at me from below. It’s a big white… cat. Quickly, I crouch to the ground to inspect if I’ve hurt the animal with my big leather winter boots, but before I can get to it, the cat jumps to the side while keeping its green eyes fixated on me. I look up at my friend Psyrah and ask her to wait. When I crouch down to reach out to the animal, the cat leaps even further to the side. It doesn’t take its eyes off me, not even for a second. As it makes its way through the dense forest of legs of visitors, it feels as if it is asking me to follow it. “Meet me by the car,” I whisper to Psyrah. “I’m going to follow the cat.” Psyrah looks puzzled but before she can ask anything, I am already chasing four soft paws through the crowd. The green eyes have an enchanting effect on me and I keep chasing. Before I realize where I am, I’ve stepped out of the line of people. I’m a lot closer to the cabins now. Should I follow the white animal any further? I’m undecided. What if the Didelians discover I’m on their grounds? Will there be immediate consequences? The feline doesn’t seem to have patience for my internal dialogue and disappears in the direction of the wooden houses. With the four paws fading in the distance, I silence my common sense, take a breath and follow, which is very out of character for me. I’m not a risk-taker. This animal has a strange effect on me. When I’m next to the closest cabin, I realize what I’m doing. My heart starts to pound. People have been thrown into jail for trespassing. Everybody knows the Didelians are off-limits. Even for the authorities. My fear becomes too overpowering. When I turn and prepare to run, but suddenly a deep voice rings like a bell. “Wait.” It comes from the shadows between the cabins. In a glance I see movement and a dark silhouette travels in my direction. Behind it, I distinguish two familiar green eyes. The cat. I freeze. My body feels like an icicle, and I can’t even move my fingers. I’m terrified. ​ From the shadows, a man in a cape appears and approaches me. Within an instant, he stands in front of me. His face catches the light of a nearby lantern and shock penetrates my body. It’s the main performer of the show. It’s the man I’d been staring at all night.“Eh… it… it was the cat,” I stammer but I am not sure even the grass around me could have heard my trembling voice.

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Rakkisa’s lips curl into a fragile smile and she nods with the lightest movement. Her glare turns into a serene look and she relaxes all her muscles. “I love you,” she whispers and then sighs deeply. After her last breath leaves her lungs and passes her lips, Rakkisa’s entire body remains still. “No… no, no, NOO!!! A crying Matthias covers Rakkisa’s face with kisses and he rests his nose on the dead woman’s forehead. “Don’t leave us, Rakkisa… We can’t be without you. We love you so much. We need you!!” The woman’s eyes are open, but they no longer register any signals of this world. She has passed. Matthias cries uncontrollably and he lifts Rakkisa into a sitting position. He cradles her body, caresses her hair, kisses her face, and murmurs her name incessantly. Her body is heavy and her arms, the very same arms that used to embrace him, now dangle lifelessly next to her body. While holding Rakkisa, Matthias has no perception of time. Seconds, minutes, or hours pass. He’s numb and everything around him is a colorless blur. It feels like someone pulled his heart out of his chest. A gaping hole that will never be able to be filled, remains. All night long, Rakkisa has been vomiting blood and it’s a wonder she’s made it until the morning. Once the Red-Cough, as they started to call it, is caught, one dies within five to six hours. Yesterday at sundown, Rakkisa started coughing, and now, nine hours later, she’s still holding on to the thin lines of her life. Her love for Gailin keeps her fighting. Amongst the sadness and confusion, Matthias feels fury. He curses this horrible disease that has already killed millions of Didelians in only a matter of weeks. Matthias suspects it was created in a European or American laboratory. He deeply despises every Westerner he knows, including himself. The reality feels horribly unfair to Matthias since there’s absolutely nothing he can do. He wants to go with her. He wants to die today and enter the afterlife together. Whatever it will look like, it will be better than the hell he’s going through now. But Matthias knows that even if he wanted to die from the Red Cough, he probably can’t. Only the Didelians die. He was injected with the vaccine for tuberculosis, and he suspects that this makes him immune to the disease. Deep inside, Matthias knows his death wish is selfish. He is Gailin’s only hope. She is still in good health, and he has to get her out of the camp as fast as he can. Little Gailin… so helpless, so precious. He can’t give up, for her sake. Never did Matthias think he could love as intensely as he learned to over the past three years. Rakkisa. Their child Gailin. He would do anything for them. Now Rakkisa is being taken away. And why? Because of the selfishness and ignorance of his people! Matthias lifts his head and screams in helpless agony. “Aaahhh!!!” Through his tears, he sees how Rakkisa turns her head and looks at him. Her bloodshot eyes are surprisingly clear, calm, and loving. He knows she doesn’t fear death. None of the Didelians do. Matthias does. And most of all… he fears life without Rakkisa. Rakkisa struggles to keep her breath going. It is heartbreaking to witness. She postpones the moment of death while knowing the end is inevitable. She fights with time over love. And now the frequency of Rakkisa’s respiration noticeably decreases. Instantly, the agony Matthias has felt transforms into panic. “Don’t leave me, my dearest!!” But Rakkisa’s breath slows down even more. She opens her mouth and tries to speak but her words are nothing more than a whisper. Matthias lowers his head toward her face and his tears mingle with the perspiration on her forehead.“Please Matthias… protect Gailin,” Rakkisa whispers. Her voice is so thin that it might be easily mistaken for the rustling of the wind through the trees. “Make sure… Ugh… nothing happens to her or you… Ugh…” The coughing makes Rakkisa pause, and she presses a tissue, stained with blood, against her lips.“You… can ensure Gailin a good life. Take her with you to your land. Do not show her to… anybody while you travel. Please Matthias, protect her…” A tear rolls from the corner of Rakkisa’s eye.Matthias nods, though he’s not sure how he will fulfill this promise. But he doesn’t show his hesitation to the dying mother. He will find a way.“I promise...” he whispers. Trailer Chapter 2 Chapter 1 Didelis December 4th 1948 Matthias Brolin Outside, he strips off his clothes and takes a cold shower next to the house. With a big stiff bristle brush and disinfecting plant oil, he scrubs his skin, from head to toes, until it almost bleeds. The pain from the scrubbing distracts him from feeling his heart. Then he drips a few drops of the oil under his tongue. His army uniform lies folded next to the shower. He hasn’t worn it since the day he met Rakkisa. Putting on this uniform makes him feel nauseous. The uniform means bloodshed and pain. Thanks to the military he has lost Rakkisa and all the others. But he has no choice now. He needs to return to where he came from. There is no future on the island anymore. They made sure of it. They won. Matthias would rather go north with Deeri and the others, but Deeri has denied him his desire to leave with them. Matthias doesn’t stand a chance in the North Pole. They will not warm the air in the Didelian boats out of fear of thermal detectors. He doesn’t have the gifts of the Didelians. And Gailin is still much too young to tap into her gift of regulating her body temperature. Thus, Deeri gave him different instructions: “Move Gailin as far away from here as you can. Get her on a military boat. Go home, and never speak of her real heritage.” M atthias looks at Rakkisa and hardly recognizes her. Her only recently curly and shiny red hair now hangs in lifeless strings around her ashen face. Her half-closed eyes are surrounded by dark circles and the blue of her irises has transformed into a flat grey. The vibrant woman he knows as Rakkisa has disappeared entirely, and Matthias knows it won’t be much longer before her chest stops moving. While he holds her hands, he lowers his face toward her body. Warm tears roll down his cheeks and land on Rakkisa’s silk dress. He squeezes her hands and begs her to stay. He can’t imagine their young baby Gailin without her mother. Gailin hasn’t even had the chance to see how incredible her mother is. The three years Rakkisa and Matthias spent together are so minute compared to the lifetime he will have to live without his divine love. The sound of a gong ringing in the distance releases Matthias from his trance of sorrow. When he returns to his senses, he feels dried tears on his face that pull on the skin. The lack of light through the windows tells him it’s late in the evening. Outside he hears movement and realizes he needs to get Gailin immediately. She is with the uninfected on the other side of the village. The people who remain healthy will depart soon. With his body and soul in pain, Matthias closes Rakkisa’s eyes. His suffering intensifies when he realizes that the house they inhabited for the last six months, will be her eternal tomb. When Matthias arrives at the dwellings where the healthy people hide, he enters a small living structure. A few women are preparing the departure and he sees Gailin sleeping in the arms of Rakkisa’s sister. When she notices him coming, she passes his daughter into his arms. While he takes his little girl, he nods to her in silence, and the woman’s eyes fill with tears. Her sister has passed. The baby awakens and whimpers. She feels she has just lost her mother. Rakkisa’s sister wraps a clean silk shawl around Matthias and tightens the baby to his chest. Then she folds herself around the father and child and they sway back and forth until they are ready to let go. The teared-up woman packs a few nut milk bottles in a backpack and adds some valuable stones that will help Matthias buy his way back. She hands the bag over and they say goodbye without words. With a stabbing pain in his heart, Matthias walks out of the house and into the forest. He does not look back.