Aveena is a place, and in a way, a time. Perhaps long ago, perhaps yet to be. What is known is that there is a connection between the frequency of Aveena and our own humble reality. The story will follow the adventures of a young girl named Zoe, who for reasons she doesn’t yet know, belongs not here on earth, but in the ancient world of Aveena.
Zoe – Almost 7.
Okay, so a diary is all about ones personal journey, right? A book to record your thoughts, ideas, and adventures along the way to wherever? Then explain how it is I was only introduced to the idea of a journal when somebody felt like it was in their best interest for me to do so? And I’m supposed to start the recording at 3 years old? Hello, I’m almost 7.
No doubt I’ll pay some price for everything I write. One does not believe that someone that forces you to write isn’t interested in reading it. Anyway, even starting at 3 is after I knew things weren’t what they seemed to be… or were supposed to seem, if you get what I’m saying. People either do or they don’t. ‘Get me’ that is.
So I can’t put a time to when I first ‘knew’. It’s almost like it was the first knowledge I really had, so it became the starting point of my life. But I was about 3 when I caught the flu and made the mistake of thinking someone would understand me. The doctor was sent for and he prescribed rest and lots of liquids. What a surprise, right?
After calming the mothers and assuring them I would be fine, he turned back to me and said, “Now then, do you have any other problems I might help with?” So I told him. Why wouldn’t I? After all, it was the one thing I had always known, but didn’t understand. He seemed sincere, so I trusted he was serious. “I’m somebody else”, I told him. What did I know? I actually thought maybe he could help me find whatever was hiding in the fog of my little brain.
He was surprised, and then amused. He thought it was funny. He leaned close and touched my cheek with his finger. “Nope. You’re you alright.”
Oh, he thought himself quite clever. I didn’t think so. He treated me as if I was silly, and I didn’t think that was respectful. I resisted the immediate impulse to give him my three year old opinion of his professional capabilities.
Instead, I grinned foolishly, because I knew that’s what was expected. Oh what restraint I had at that wise age.
That was over half my lifetime ago and the only thing I learned from it was that some things should be kept to yourself.
That sense of ‘otherness’, has grown stronger ever since. I’m missing out on my real life., but I don’t know what to do about it. So here am I, trying to minimize my current disciplinary sentence and maybe even make a few goodie points by writing in my journal. But mostly I’m just looking out the window and watching the other kids playing outside.
Genre(s): Young Adult
Author: Roland Pernicus Oznard
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