Dedication: For Tatyana Alexandra Khorishko, the desert rose that survived the blizzard; my inspiration, and someone I love very much.
To my father and siblings (in alphabetical order): Robbie Griffith, James Sellers, Jodi Sellers, and Shane Sellers.
To my mentors Jacque Turner-Schettler and Don Miles. I hope this work does justice for the wisdom that you have shared. I’m grateful.
To Lonna Marie for performing a beautiful, original song. Please visit: www.LonnaMarie.com for more great music.
Twitter: @LonnaMarie
Performance and Editing by Lonna Marie
Song Lyrics by Travis Adams Irish
To Tierney Roberts for your beautiful and inspired cover artwork. Please visit: www.TierneyRoberts.com for some incredible designs.
Twitter: @TierneyRoberts
I. Flying Red Class
We create our own heaven; this is a thoughtless rhetoric and tired slogan of the optimist. Who are we to decide that our self-interests should be the way of the world? -A Mother’s Wrath.
Litz Eliza Rack glared at the rocky face of a seventy-five-foot cliff with the austerity of a bullfighter. She felt the cool sting of winter air making its way through her loose-fitting orange tank top and a pair of black jeans. There were minuscule snowflakes stuck to the outer layers of her long brunette hair, and her Swedish-American complexion was pale and flaky. The fifteen-year-old could hear the sirens of fire trucks and police cars motoring up the winding canyon road to find her. Litz laughed them off with the tormented abandon of a broken heart, gazing at the sky with her eyes of oceanic blue. She could sense the cocaine and whiskey opening up her adolescent vascular system with adrenaline like an overheating engine.
The teenager glanced over her left shoulder at a charcoal plume of smoke twisting up through the snow-covered pine trees. Litz smirked at the thought of the black Chevrolet Corvette crumpled against a group of boulders in the river, invoking the drug dealer from whom she stole the car. Her ribcage was throbbing with sharp pain from when the young woman lost control of the vehicle, causing it to spin out on an icy bend in the road and crash into the riverbed. The impact had knocked her unconscious, but she awoke to survey her destiny through ice crystals on the windshield. A solitary cliff stood out from the mountains like an unneeded authority, forcing wildlife to go around and imposing its will on the area.
She had a fresh memory of what the car was like after the accident and took a moment to reminisce. Litz had taken a swig from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and poured the rest of its contents on the black leather passenger seat of the vehicle. The distraught juvenile then used a Zippo lighter to ignite the alcohol, which inspired her to vacate the car in a hurry. Upon exiting the Corvette, she fell backward onto a boulder with a thud, summoning immense pain from her back and spine. Litz rolled off of the rough gray rock to her right, landing knee-deep in the freezing waters of the river.
Despite the numbing effects of the cocaine, the teenager soon detected a sharp sting of ice water soaking her pants at the knees and all the way down into her shoes. Litz embraced each irritating sensation with a new level of defiance, slogging through the chilly waters like a child. She made it to the banks of the river and stood there long enough to delight in the splendor of the black sports car being consumed by fire.
The young woman shook off this memory during a moment of clarity, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. She turned back to face the cliff, realizing that the sounds of rescue vehicles were growing louder. Litz had no idea where in the country she had crashed the car, or the names of the mountain ranges that surrounded her on all sides. The last sign that she read while sober had said ‘Welcome to Park City,’ which evoked childish excitement after driving all night. She embraced a newfound ambition inspired by the sirens, and the determined teen latched onto the dry, cold rocks with all of her upper body strength. Litz sought handholds without reservation and fumbled about for a few seconds, knowing that her fingers were getting cold. After multiple attempts, she gripped the rocks well enough to begin her ascent. The teenager had risen only a foot off of the ground when the cocaine demon on her shoulder applauded with orchestrated grace.
Litz sensed that the porous rocks scratched her left cheek as she reached for another handhold above her right shoulder. The torment of her weeks in captivity at the orphanage began to drift away with the freezing winds, and she refused to let herself fall. During the first thirty feet of her climb, she reflected on a heart attack and car crash that killed her father and brother when she was seven years old.
The audacious teenager continued to scale the cliff with sharp pains and aches from the bitter temperatures being reported by her skin. Although she dared not let the cliff win in her moment of triumph, the temptation to give up was enticing. Her entire body was shaking at the halfway mark, and she began to reflect on her mother for strength. The winds kicked up and swirled about the face of the cliff, threatening her with failure. She gripped the sandstone handholds with vibrant dissent, almost hissing through her chapped lips.
On the ground beneath her, Litz heard rescuers shouting upward for her to come down. The acoustics of the mountain range had a remarkable effect on their speech, allowing her to hear them with clarity. Litz thought of her mother’s beautiful face and the tender way that she conducted herself. The woman was healthy and alive six months ago.
Litz noticed that she was on the verge of tears and stopped herself from slinking away into despair. She clung to the living image of her mother as her fingers shuddered to reach the next set of handholds. Her arms and shoulders were convulsing with each upward movement, but the juvenile held on with the perseverance of a wild creature. The cocaine demon on her shoulder had transformed into a celestial being, showing her the top of the cliff as a sanctuary from the suffering. She obeyed the mighty creature and its primal logic, hauling her body atop the gritty ledge amidst the hateful winds.
When Litz reached the top of the cliff, she bowed her head in a display of respect to the powers of nature. The teenager then curled her hands into fists of passionate rage and ground them down into the rocks at her sides. She twisted them until the jagged surface tore open the skin on her knuckles. Litz smiled with vindication and felt the agony that was her life dripping from her veins onto the frosted earth.
“I love you guys!” She declared to the heavens with her eyes shut, weeping as a sensation of peace radiated from the core of her body outward.
“I can’t believe she made it!” A male rescue worker cried out from the ground, watching the young woman in awe. “Stay there. We’ll be up to help you soon.”
Litz opened her eyes but could not see the man. There was too m
uch snow blowing about, and part of the ledge was in her way. She widened her gaze to reveal blue stones of hatred looking out upon the world, and the bloodshot white space that surrounded them. The vulnerable juvenile stood up tall and stomped over to the edge of the cliff, displaying the middle fingers on each of her hands. Litz had a sensation of triumph over authority but then found herself falling through the chilly air. Her gut wrenched with instant panic, unsettled by the lack of ground beneath her feet. The adolescent woman plummeted with a mixture of regret and exoneration, knowing that she would again see her family. A smile formed on her face as the cocaine angel abandoned her, shedding its celestial form to embrace a personification of darkness. Litz felt free from the bonds of the world, but her fall halted in an abrupt fashion, and a stream of warm blood began to trickle down her right cheek.