Amber Waves of Grain

The summer of 1999 did not prove to be exactly what Carmen Shrine was hoping for the months before the turn of the century and her senior year. She had just ended her last day at her barely inhabited high school in Goodsprings, Nevada with hopeful dreams for the coming days. There was no reason for this; she expected this vacation to be just like the others had been in her town of only 236 people. Her days were bored, spent wishing that school would come back around or that she was old enough to take her friends on the only hour long ride to Las Vegas, the most amazing city on earth. She had no idea why, but something felt electrifying about this vacation, almost eerily so. There was an air about the town that caught her attention and grabbed hold like a tick; like the tick inside of her necklace. It was her newfound prized possession, a gift from her father, one of many he bought her every May her entire life for completing another year of school. It was cheesy and unnecessary, but it was tradition. This year’s gift was an amber necklace containing an ancient tick of some sort. It was absolutely fascinating to Carmen, and she was convinced that she would never take it off. This necklace was her connection to the upcoming summer’s excitement. Whatever was going to happen was directly linked to this ancient tick within the fossilized tree resin hanging on her neck.
A week of summer passed, and the days were passing routinely: sunbathing, swimming, dinners out, and …..a whole lot of nothing. One day, Carmen decided to venture from the beaten path to a nearby carnival. When she arrived, she realized that the rides weren’t much fun wheh there was no one to enjoy them with. She started to make her way out, when she spotted a tent isolated from the other attractions. and was She gravitated toward it. At the entrance was a sign "Madame Nila - Reservation Psychic". Carmen entered to something she thought odd- there were no strange relics, candles, or crystal balls; the lady she saw ahead was neither European, nor frightening like she had expected. It was simply a tent, with a small, solemn, Native American woman sitting in the center.
"Welcome," she said calmly.
The tone reminded Carmen of one that a yoga instructor might use.
"Sit with me."
Feeling oddly at ease with this stranger, Carmen took a seat on the ground in front of the woman. This woman, so called "Madame Nila," sensed the aura of ease and explained to Carmen her name and how she planned to step away from the stereotype that it was.
"Of course, my name is not Madame Nila, that is only for attraction. My name is Nakoma from the American Powhattan tribe. I am neither a psychic nor a fortune teller."
Carmen’s eyes must have shown her confusion and wonderment of her; she felt as if this woman were going to break into "Colors of the Wind" at any moment.
"I will tell you what is, not what will be."
Carmen was puzzled. "How will that tell me any different than I already know?"
Just then, the woman’s eyes turned black and her gaze shifted to the amber hanging from Carmen’s neck. Carmen felt a shiver run down her spine, getting the feeling that maybe this isn’t a place she needed to be in.
"Is it real?" Nakoma asked quizzically.
"What?"
"The amber, is it real? Do you know where it came from?" she pressed.
"Um, I don’t know," Carmen stammered, "My father bought it for me. Isn’t it neat?" she said, admiring her gift.
"You are of Spanish decent, correct? Not direct blood line, but your heritage, yes?"she said, ignoring Carmen’s question.
"My mother’s family comes from Spain." Carmen said reluctantly.
"You must leave the necklace with me." Nakoma breathed hurriedly.
"What? No!"
"You must," trailing off searching for some way to explain herself. "Go to a bookstore, and read about my tribe’s first known chief - you will know what to look for. Go! But come back quickly."
Carmen left bewildered, but unscathed by the "psychic’s" creepy reaction to her necklace.
Instead of returning home that night, Carmen stayed with a friend whose father owned every book you could possibly imagine on Native American history and culture. She decided to just look, if not only out of curiosity.
"She said to look for the Powhattans,." Carmen said to Lily. "Help me."
Within a few minutes, they found the chief in a book called Journals of the Santa Maria. It was a collection of Christopher Columbus’s diary entries while on his voyages to find the New World.
The only mention of amber in these diaries seemed inconsequential and everything seemed well. After more thorough research, she came to find that in fact, all was not well amongst the Indians and Spaniards. The journal went on to when Columbus returns to Spain to a series of terrible misfortunes having given the Indians a fake form of amber, much less valuable than the amber that they had given in return. She didn’t know what this meant for her, but the realization that she was a Spaniard and held the ancient Powhattan amber was no less eerie than the psychic’s strange inquiries the day before. Despite the feeling in her gut, this seemed to Carmen to be the same shrug-off story as ghosts in New Orleans. No matter how many times she visited the French Quarter, she’d never experienced one of it’s infamous hauntings. To Carmen, this was a great legend, a pleasurable joke to cure her boredom. The more she read, the more infatuated she became with Columbus’s failures spawn from his obsession with the real amber. Soon, however, Columbus’s destruction began to frighten Carmen, and she decided to ignore that she had ever learned about it. The following days went by normally, until the Fourth of July.
Independence Day was a big production for the small town; something that everyone enjoyed. There were cook-outs, parades, and fireworks, swimming parties, and cold drinks. It was the biggest day of the year in Goodsprings as it always had been, but even that could grow dull when you had done it sixteen times before. Fireworks popped, red and blue flags waved in the light wind, people sang along to the tune of "America, the Beautiful" and Carmen wished that something would happen, anything. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The flags began to whip, crowds quieted, and the music blared.
"Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of, amber waves of, amber waves of, amber waves of….."
It played on, like a broken record player. "Grain, say grain, already." she thought. Waves of grain. Waves of grain in swirling wind came raining upon this once grand parade, pummeling the town. People ran to their homes screaming. It looked like a sandstorm in the form of tornados.
Then it stopped.
As the air quieted, the music played on, and Carmen knew well enough that it was not over. She bowed her head to her necklace and wondered if it had, in fact, come from the Native American land. Again, the town was quiet where it should have been frantic and panicked.
"For purple mountain majesty, above the fruited plains. America, America, God shed his Grace on thee. And crowned thy good, with brother hood….."
Silence.
All but a wild river rushing and crashing through streets from each side toward the middle square where Carmen stood. Ahead was a small hill on which Nakoma stood, again solemn, her eyes blaming- "I warned you."
It was the last sight Carmen Shrine saw before swallowing and being swallowed by the bitter salt water. Blind and choked, she surrendered to the savage waters with no struggle, her limp body drifting with the waves. On the hill, her amber necklace washed up to Nakoma as she smiled and walked away.
"From sea - to - shining- sea…"