Gina Katz and Christina Brockett

Gina Katz


“The Key”
By Christina Brockett

Inspiration piece

The back door creaked accompanied by the thump of a backpack full of books hitting the floor. The refrigerator door opened and closed followed by the sound of a liquid pouring.  Footsteps, loud at first, ascended the rear staircase until they were a faint whisper.  This was the second day in a row Stewart had come home and retreated directly to his room. Although she was often with clients, he normally passed by her treating space and acknowledged her.

Stewart’s behavior was normal, but yet not. Unfortunately, his issues would have to wait until she finished.  Augusta’s hands poised above her client’s body to clear the remaining energy away and, as if on cue, the sound of a guitar began playing J.S. Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” The music wafted down as she began the final clearing.  Augusta closed her Reiki session and sat for a moment in her studio.

The music shifted to Bach’s Minuet in G Major. As someone with synesthesia, Augusta saw colors with each note she heard. Also a synesthete, her son Stewart experienced color as well, only in different colors than his mother.

Augusta walked up the steps and down the hall to Stewart’s room. The music continued to play. She paused outside of his door. The guitar stopped.

“You might as well come in Mom; I know you’re there.”

She opened the door, and the playing resumed; her son’s mass of brown hair bent over his guitar. Augusta stood and watched his fingers rapidly picking at the strings of a Spanish piece. The intensity of his movement increased.

From the age of about three, Stewart had played music; he’d never had any formal instruction and was a bit of a prodigy.  Music had become his refuge when things troubled him. The lack of sleep over the last few nights indicated something was disturbing him.

The music paused and Stewart’s deep, dark brown eyes met his mother’s.

“You’re throat chakra is blocked, I can sense it. Something is going on Stewart. What is it?”

In one swift motion, the guitar was laid on his bed and Stewart turned from his mother, becoming lost in the movement of the trees outside of his window.

Finally he spoke, “Throat chakra, this chakra that chakra. Why can’t you be a normal mom and just talk like one?”

Augusta had been born as a healer and with the sight. This was her normal, something she understood even as a child. Over the years, she learned how to harness her gifts as well as how to blend into society.  Stewart was also born with gifts, but didn’t fully understand or realize them yet.

It was time for them to talk.

“Stew, sit down. I need you to listen what I’m about to say.”

Stewart looked at her, rolled his eyes and reluctantly sat on the edge of his bed poised to dash out of the room at the first opportunity.

Compelled to touch him and release his tension, she reached out, placed her hand on Stewart’s. Augusta took in a deep breath and studied the ground for a minute, unsure of where to start.

“You know, when I was young I had issues fitting in too.”

Stewart pulled his hand from her.

“You think this is about fitting in? Really? With all of your ‘energy’ work and all that, I thought you would understand. But you don’t do you? You don’t understand. No one does.”

Augusta understood better than he realized.

“I know about the dreams Stew.”

His body tensed. He stood up again and stared out the window, his hands dug deeper into his pockets. A part of him didn’t want to discuss the dreams. To discuss them made them real; he didn’t want to believe they were. He just wanted to be a normal fourteen-year-old kid.

“Stew, I get them too. You can’t pretend they aren’t there.  They’re happening for a reason, and we need to figure out why.” Augusta added.

Stewart snapped back, “What if I don’t want to figure out why? What if I don’t want to be like you? What if I want to be like a normal kid? A kid who doesn’t feel the things I do. A kid who doesn’t look at someone and have flashes about them. A kid who can play music like a normal person, without color. A kid who can eat without tasting a shape.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he continued, “A kid who doesn’t have strange dreams at night over and over again with the small girl appearing to him asking for help—a little girl who is speaking to me, but I don’t know who she is or where she is, but one that I know whose time is running out. Huh? What if I don’t want to figure out why?”

Her son’s struggles ate at her, but there wasn’t a way to turn things off. The only way to live with the gifts was to understand them and figure out how to use them to help others.  It was time to explain everything.

“You don’t have a choice Stew because if you don’t figure out the visions that present themselves to you, you will be plagued by them. “

Augusta rose and walked over to him. Placing her hand on his face, she caressed his cheek, willing the stress to leave his body.  Stewart’s muscles relaxed slightly and she continued.

“Stewart, you aren’t the same as your peers. You’re different and always have been.  You carry with you an indigo aura. As an Indigo, you have an inherent heightened sensitivity. That is why you have a harder time relating to most of the other kids around you and why you experience the things you do, the way you do. But you need to realize that with these gifts comes a certain level of responsibility. I can teach you how to work with them more, but what’s more important right now is the little girl in your dreams. I can assure you if you sense she needs your help and time is running out, then it probably is.”

The wall offered the stability that Stewart needed at that moment. He steadied himself against it, slid down to the floor and buried his head in his hands.  This was too much to take. He wanted the gifts to stop, but then the little girl’s voice crept into his brain, “Please. Find the key. The key will set me free.”


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