The Lilac Forest Teachings

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a novel by Lori Tiron-Pandit

EXCERPT

Vivian

It is interesting how this loss of sight turned her into a pathetic creature who is not worth a thought. It is not that she misses vision so much. The truth is that there isn't much left that she wishes to look at. Calvin is dead. The only thing that bothers her is that she is still alive--with eyes or not, it doesn't make much difference.

She hates people feeling sorry for her which is why she decided not to go out of the house anymore. She will become like one of those crazy women behind the blinds who populate Victorian novels. Children will be scared of her and she will inspire awe, not pity. She is going to live in this apartment until the end, in the company of the dark man. He is never disappointing – always there, in some corner or under some table, wordless, infinitely terrifying. She knows he is the answer, the link, but she cannot conquer her fears.

She knows by now every little detail of his appearance although she avoids to look at him as much as she can. It is of not much help. He is the only thing there, in her eyesight. She tried to keep her eyes closed. It doesn't make a difference in any way. She tried to remove any thought of him from her mind but the more she tried the more he was there, in his corner of her mind. He is tall and very thin. His face is never too clear, as if seen on a TV with a weak antenna signal. It could be a beautiful face, with all features perfectly symmetrical and yet the piercing, deep, inundating, drowning, endless, immobile eyes turned the perfect features into a mask of horror. He never looks directly at her so she would find herself many times searching for his sight, searching for the human sparkle. His long body can shrink or elongate, can be elastic or stiff. Sometimes it simply dissipates in the air and she can again make herself believe that is all but a dream. After a few minutes she sees him again, waiting for her crouched near the cooking stove in the kitchen. She then suddenly felt an irresistible urge to make tea. His hair is thick and curly. Shoulder length.

His hands are dead too. He never moves them. Neither does he move his legs. As a matter of fact, she only saw him lifting and lowering his head, looking down, looking through her.

She turns on the burner, fills a kettle with water. He is behind her now staring at he back. She can feel his eyes. Coward. The cold water is dripping over, freezing on her hands. He is right behind her. She turns and hits. Black blood. Blood as seen by blind eyes. There is a dripping hole in his forehead, his eyes not looking at her. He dissipates. Serenity. Sleep. She lies down on the kitchen floor.

The waves resound in her blood although she cannot see them anywhere. She is on a rocky path, in what seems to be the middle of a long forgotten land of high grass. The wind seems to be the only master of the grounds, ordering the thin and gracious stems to the left and right, making them sing and pray. The day is torrid and the humidity almost stuffing but she feels good, in a body lighter and not restraining. She walks, the only way she can go, ahead, towards a possible end, a possible target. But it doesn't seem to end and the grass is cutting her bare legs. She notices that she is only wearing a white pair of shorts and white tank shirt. The same clothes that she kept wearing on their favorite vacation to Miami. Calvin used to say that she looked like a little high school athlete, young and fresh, fragile and strong in the same time. She is again that Vivian, the one from a time when Calvin was not dead.

Vivian is walking on the path that unravels narrower and misleading, overcome by dry grass. She cannot slow down her pace, as she wishes. What is that noise? Is it only her steps? Sometimes it happens that she is scared by her own footsteps, but this is not one of those times. She is being followed and she doesn't have time to look behind her--she has to run. She doesn't even need to look behind because it can be only him, the dark one, the ever-following one. He is coming after her and there probably isn't any escape but the control of her body is not her own and she has to move forward. She runs. She stumbles. She falls. He is right behind, breathing close.

“Useless to run!”

End of EXCERPT

The Lilac Forest seems to be a down-to-earth retreat for women in need of some distance from the pressures of their real, fast, technologically enhanced lives. The visitors spend their time in a vibrant community, doing gardening, embroidery, knitting, cooking and telling stories.

Mara came here because she needed a time away from her young family and a better understanding of her role as a new mother, while Daria was breaking away from a life overwhelmed by work and unfulfilling relationships. Only on the second day of their visit, the two women become aware that this place is much more than a vacation resort.

The Lilac Forest is home to Vivian and Luna, who are known as “the teachers.” While Luna is actively involved in managing all the activities of the retreat, Vivian is rarely present. She is the one with the visions, the one who had received the inspiration to build this place of healing.

The Lilac Forest Teachings follows the intersecting trajectories of the four women, in an age-old, but this time distinctively feminine, search for meaning and truth.

This is only a draft, intended solely

for review and comments.