Once Upon A Karma (Karmic Krystal Book 1) (2 page)

At the time of Krystal’s death, she had not been able to communicate with her family for several years because of laws and a Constitution that had been constantly breached by a government elected by the people.  Her baby had lost his life because Krystal had been deprived of any pre-natal care, all because of the colour of her skin.  She had also suffered but kept silent about the atrocities she endured as a child.  Krystal trusted that if she and Mick were truly destined to be, that the powers in control of her own fate would bring them together once more.

With Krystal’s decision having been made, the Goddess nodded her head with a complete understanding of why Krystal had chosen to return to the life that had just ended.  The world was in a complete state of disarray.  Her own people were dying to the point of extinction at the hands of a corrupt government, while a government on the other side of the world were forcing disabled people into suicide and homelessness, as they were deemed to be of no further use to society. 

The people who continued to walk around after their heinous crimes – not just towards Krystal but towards humanity itself - had been left unpunished.  Krystal now had the power to right such wrongs.  She had lived by the laws of the Wiccan Rede for her entire life.  The most important rule she now needed to focus on was:

“…and ever mind the rule of three

What goes out, thrice comes back to thee.”

Krystal would give a whole new meaning to “
an eye for an eye
.”  She had stepped into the powerful shoes of Cadiche, also known as Feather Foot.  Fully versed in all aspects of magick, Cadiche was the most feared member of Australia’s Indigenous peoples.  The almighty medicine man was bestowed with the power to become judge, juror and executioner.  On conviction, the guilty would have their soul ripped from their body, leaving them in excruciating pain and torment before they were banished from existence.  But this time it would not only be that of her people, but of all mankind.

My name is Krystal Hunter.  On my most recent birthday, I turned two years old.  My sisters, Tania and Leena, are three and four.  With dark skin, white-blonde hair and light blue eyes, I am considered an enigma by all who meet me, especially since both of my sisters have fair skin.  While I’m not entirely sure what an enigma means, lots of people keep telling me that I look just like my dad since he has dark skin, but others say I look just like my mum, with her piercing blue eyes.  Personally, I think I look like me.

My parents are always making my sisters and me laugh.  Both are amazing people and we are very lucky to have them.  Dad used to be a Military Police Officer and travelled away from home a lot.  Now he is a security guard and wears a fancy uniform to his job which is not far from our house.  Mum cooks and cleans in the daytime while Dad is at work.  They seldom fight but when they do, they yell at each other about silly things.  Then they kiss and smile and everything is good again.  I love my parents so much. When I grow up, I want to be just like both of them.  Most of the time, they tell silly jokes that I don’t understand.  I end up laughing anyway because they laugh so hard when they tell them.  Everything is good when they laugh.  Sometimes my sisters and I laugh so hard that we fall down on the ground and our stomachs hurt.  They really can be that funny, especially when they think that we are laughing at their jokes. 

“Smart kids,” Dad always says to Mum as he winks at her.  This usually causes our mother to roll her eyes at Dad and giggle.

During the daytime, my sisters and I often play in the front yard, along with our red cattle dog, Rusty.  We chase each other as fast as we can, making sure we stay within the fence line as we play a game called
Tag.
  After we run out of breath – which usually takes a long time – my sisters and I take turns on the new swing set which our parents bought for us this past Yule.  We also have new skipping ropes, bats, balls and tennis racquets to play with so we don’t get bored and end up under our mum’s feet while she does her chores inside.  My sisters and I don’t always play at home, though.  On some weekends, our parents take us to the beach or to the park.  It is a nice change from being in the yard all the time, especially with all the fish and chip shops being so close by at the beach. 

“Pack up your toys, girls!  Go get your cozzies on and grab a beach towel,” Dad bellows from the front stairs to get our attention. 

“Shorncliffe?” I hear my mother ask from the top of the stairs.  Before I know it, my sisters are running madly to put our toys away and get changed.  I follow my sisters to the stairs and slowly make my way up.  They are still quite big for me to step up on.  With Mum’s help, I change into my swimming costume – or ‘cozzies’ – and get my plastic bucket and spade from the cupboard.  Time to rock the Shorncliffe beach!

Shortly after we arrive at the beach, Dad finds us a nice table to sit at while Mum takes the three of us girls into the fish and chip shop across the road.  Mum asks what we want but I never understand why she does this.  We seem to buy the same thing every time: fresh bread, lots of hot chips (wrapped in white paper), and if we are really good, we each get a small piece of fish too. 

Returning to the table with our freshly cooked lunch, we take our seats as Dad tears off giant pieces from the white paper which the chips are wrapped in.  We use these pieces of paper as make-shift plates, since the table we are sitting at is salt-stained wood with strips of green paint flaking away.  While I watch the miniature streams of water in the sand, I am transfixed by the tiny green water snakes wriggling around.  Little crabs walk across the sand and crawl into holes where the ocean’s water usually laps at the sea wall as Mum puts our bread and chips onto the paper with a pair of tongs that she has brought from home.  As Mum and Dad set up the food, I notice a seagull on the sea wall, not very far from our table.  The tide is out and there are sand bars as far as the eye can see.  Looking back at me, the seagull looks lonely and a little bit hungry.  I reach over and grab a hot chip as an offering to the hungry bird but before I throw the chip, I blow on it gently so the seagull will not burn his beak.  As soon as I throw the cooled down potato chip, the solitary bird flaps its wings, jumps up into the air and catches it before flying away.  I cheer and clap my hands.  Mum immediately gets cranky and tells me that I should never feed the birds at the beginning of lunch. 

“They are only to be fed when
we
have finished eating, Krystal!  How many times do I have to
tell
you that?” she says, frowning. 

“But Mummy, he is hungry!” I pout and cross my arms while glaring at her.  “Making the birds watch us while we eat delicious food, especially when they are so hungry, is not fair to the birds.”

When I turn around to look at the poor hungry seagull, I am shocked to find what seems like hundreds of birds standing in its place.  Dad looks up and says a few choice swear words under his breath while shaking his head.  I quickly cover my ears, pretending I didn’t hear what he said.  He looks over at the birds, still muttering under his breath.  As soon as Dad stands up to shoo them away, they all flap their wings at once but instead of flying away, they all quickly make a synchronised bee-line for our table, fighting over the hot chips on the paper, all-the-while crapping on everything beneath their butts.  My sisters and mother all quickly start waving their hands around in the air, trying to shoo them away from our food, but their efforts are in vain. 

“Okay, now I get it,” I whisper to my mother as I feel her eyes glaring at me.  Both of my parents quickly give up attempting to rescue what is left of the hot chips as there looks to be more poo than chips on the paper.  As a huge dollop of seagull poop lands on Dad’s head, our eyes widen with both shock and amusement.  I cover my mouth, stifling a giggle before looking at the food and almost puking at what is left.  One glimpse of our lunch – or rather, the poopy remnants left behind – convinces my parents to make the wise choice of buying a new loaf of bread, another parcel of fish and chips (definitely hold the mayo after the wing-flapping poop-fest) and pay a visit to Grandpa’s house instead. 

My mum’s father always seems to remind me of Santa when I look at him.  Every time we see him, he has a smile and a twinkle in his eye.  That twinkle, coupled with his big white bushy beard, make me wonder if they are one in the same.  Grandpa also keeps a stash of candy in the cupboard for us to nibble on while Mum, Dad and Grandpa smoke their cigarettes and drink their tea, coffee and beer.  This time, however, Grandpa gets some plates out of the cupboard and puts some chips and bread onto each, along with sauce and butter.  As he opens the fridge to pull out some mayonnaise, my mother reaches over and takes it out of his hand, placing it back inside the fridge.

“Thanks, Dad, but no thanks,” Mum says immediately.  When I look up, I notice that she still looks green around the gills at what we had left behind on the table at the beach.  Taken aback by my mother’s instant refusal, our grandfather eventually nods and gets a bottle of red cordial from the cupboard.  After pouring a cup of cordial for Leena, Tania and me, Grandpa pulls three beers from the bottom shelf of the fridge and slides them into drink coolers before passing them and the bottle-opener to Mum and Dad. Finally, lunch is served and we all devour our luke-warm chips with sauce while putting the seaside mishap out of our thoughts completely.

Grandpa always tells me that I am his favourite when I visit his house.  Since he is my only grandfather, I guess he is my favourite too.  My dad’s father died just before Dad was born.  He is a war hero.  I wish I had met him.  He was handsome too, just like my dad.  His pictures hang on a wall at home.  Each photo is black and white, displayed inside a large, old wooden frame.  Sometimes I catch my dad looking at the pictures with a sad and solemn look, but when he sees me watching him look at the photographic memories of his youth, he lifts me up and points to each one, waiting for me to say their name out loud.  He has taught me who they are since I was a baby and never wants me to forget who they are.

Interrupting my thoughts, Mum and Dad ask if I would like to stay for the whole weekend with Grandpa as a treat.  Having never stayed over at Grandpa’s place without them before, I suddenly feel quite nervous being in a strange place without my parents or sisters, yet the thought of all that candy makes me cheer.  My parents then take three small travel bags from the car.  It turns out that my sisters will also be staying – something which causes me to inexplicably let out a sigh of relief – and our visit with Grandpa will be for the entire weekend while my parents go and do grown-up things.  Mum tells Grandpa that they will return to pick us up on Sunday.  With a smile, Grandpa looks at me and winks.  I can’t help but giggle when he does silly things like that.  Before Mum and Dad leave, we all go and sit in the back yard for a while so my sisters and I can get in some play while the grown-ups talk.  It gets hot fast in the sun.  I run to the shade and take a sip of my red cordial before Leena runs up to me and tags me on the shoulder, telling me that I am “it” and I need to pass the tag onto one of my sisters so they will then be “it.”  We laugh the whole time as our parents and grandfather sit on chairs in the shade and watch us.  When we are puffed out from running, Mum stands up and yells out to us that it is time for them to leave.

“I love you, Daddy,” I say, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  He tells me that I am “
Daddy’s Little Girl,
” and the words make me smile. 

“I love you too, kiddo,” my father says back, hugging me tight. 

I then lean over to give my mum a big hug.  Putting my arms around my mum’s neck, I squeeze tight, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  Mum taps my arm and tells me that my hug is too tight.  Looking me in the eyes, she then tells me to be a good girl for Grandpa. 

“Do what he says.  No misbehaving, okay?  If I hear that you have been naughty…,” Mum starts saying in a serious voice.

“I’ll be good.  I promise!” I smile and wave to my mum and dad as they walk through the front gate to the car.  Butterflies are in my stomach, I am so excited to have my first holiday with Grandpa.  As my parents climb into our car, Grandpa picks me up so I can see over the gate and wave to them as the car drives away.  It is then that I start to wonder where my sisters are.

Still holding me as we walk inside, Grandpa starts to hum and sing to himself through his big bushy beard.  We find both of my sisters sitting at the kitchen table.  We’d had so much fun outside that time has flown by and already it is dinner time!

“What’s for dinner, Grandpa?” asks Tania. 

“Well,
there’s
a big question!” Grandpa responds.  “What would you all like to have for dinner?”

“CHICKEN!” yells Leena.

“YEAH, CHICKEN!” yells Tania.

I am so tired of chicken every night.  It seems to be all we eat lately and it is boring.  Instead, I yell out “VEGEMITE!”

“Vegemite sandwiches, it is then,” Grandpa agrees. 

Leena and Tania give me an angry stare.  My sisters like chicken and are not happy that I chose a lunch food at night time.

“You
always
get what you want!” Tania screams at me.

“Do not!” I yell back.  Our grandfather starts to panic.  It has been a very long time since he has had small children in the house alone.  Oddly enough, I can feel the panic radiating from his skin.  For a few moments, I think that I might be imagining things and I stare at my grandfather strangely.  In a flash, the feeling of panic is replaced by calm.  Grandpa gets to work, making Vegemite and cheese sandwiches for all of us.  He leaves the crusts on the bread but I don’t mind because all of the bread is soft and fresh.

After we eat our Vegemite and cheese sandwiches, which are followed by a big bowl of ice cream each, we sit on the couch and wait while the television warms up.  My sisters refuse to talk to me. They say I ruined dinner and their anger is intense.  My face is red and I do all I can not to cry, even though I feel so bad right now. We almost never fight.

By the time the television finally warms up, I am almost asleep on the couch.  I peek up at the screen when I hear noise coming from the set but the vertical hold on the picture seems to be broken.  The grey and white picture keeps rolling up and up and up.  After a while, I feel dizzy from the flickering picture.  Grandpa turns the V-Hold dial several times to try and steady the picture before the television displays perfect grey and white without any static or interference.  I continue to stare at the screen.  The movie being shown is called “My Friend Flicka.”  I don’t understand much of it, so I tell Grandpa that I am going to bed to “read” one of my books to Ralph.  This generally entails me looking at the pictures in a book, making up my own story for the picture and “reading” it to my stuffed toy bunny.  Ralph was given to me as a gift when I was born and he comes everywhere with me.  He always makes me feel happy and safe.

“Since you girls keep fighting over what we had for dinner, I want you, Leena and Tania, to sleep in the spare room,” Grandpa says.  “Krystal, would you like to sleep in Grandpa’s bed tonight?”  With my eyes open wide, I stare at Leena and Tania, hoping that they do not get even angrier at me for what Grandpa just said.

Noticing my look of horror, Leena yells out, “She can sleep with us, Grandpa!”  He immediately looks up and glares at Leena for daring to defy his orders.  Both of my sisters seem to be furious with me.  Remembering my mother’s warning to behave, I agree to sleep in Grandpa’s bed with him.  All I can do is hope that they are not so angry with me when they wake up tomorrow.  It is not my fault that Grandpa tells me I am his favourite.