Saria: Queen of Light Vol I

Episode 1- You've got mail

The most important thing in life?

To become one with nature.

To indulge in the essence of our earth.

Earth is willing to supply us with so much, yet all we want it to destroy her.

Our mother.

Saria smiled as she brought the small joint to her lips. A long drag latter, her grin grew bigger, her body felt like it was floating as she waved her hands in the air.

Smooth, side to side. Her hips moving to the trap music playing in the background. Eyes closed, she pretended she was in the lands of her dreams. The cool water brushing past her ankles, digging her feet into the sand. Enjoying the moonlight castle before her. The paradise she always escaped to in the deepest corner of her mind was her resting place. She didn't know how she did it. How she ended up there. But it was the most peaceful place in the world.

Nobody, absolutely nobody could touch her there.

It was her sanctuary.

Her escape from reality----

"Saria!"

Her eyes flew open as her mother's voice shrilled in her ear.

"Oh shit...oh shit....oh shit...." She quickly grabbed the abalone shell on her desk to put out her joint. Hopping on her bed and over, she grabbed her spray.

Knowing nature enabled you to do things such as these. Things such as being able to conceal the smell of weed in the air before a very strict mother barged into the room because she refused you from getting a lock on your door.

Besides this no-mo'-weed spray was basically right on par with her rainbow weed. Happy customers all around. Happy customers gave more money.

"Saria!"

The 18 year old whirled around, a big smile plastered to her face. "Maman!" she sang a high falsetto as she turned and placed her abalone shell on her night stand. "You're not supposed to be home for another....eehh....3 hours."

"Headaches." Monica growled. The 5'11  dark skinned lady with the long dreadlock was Saria's mother. Monica Mazama. High cheekbones, long legs, deep set almond eyes and black pupils made this women a sight to see.

Which is why Saria didn't understand how after all these years, her mother was still single and wished to be so.

Saria frowned as she took a couple steps closer. "The tea didn't work?"

Monica waved her hand in dismissal. "It's not the regular headaches my child." she leaned her head against the doorframe that she was up against. "This mama's intuition."

And being a witch, meant mama's intuition never failed. Monica Mazama was what the neighborhood called a "white witch." She created potions and seemed to do magic right before their very eyes.

"Must be a Voodoo priestess."

"Related to those witches down in the Bayou."

Now Saria don't know a single thing about the Bayou or being for Louisanna. See Saria's mother immigrated here from somewhere in Africa while she was 3 months pregnant with her. 

And that was all Saria ever got from the lips of her mother about her past. She didn't have the country, she didn't have family members. All she knew is that her mother landed in Washington Dulles international airport and prayed that she would be lucky to get in contact with her cousin.

"The past is the past and it is thus for a reason."

In the infamous words of her mother.

But Monica Mazama made it. She survived. She provided a life for her daughter. And 18 years later she had a middle class income, bought her home and had a daughter that had just graduated a week ago and was on her way to Boston College at the end of summer.