Kauai's Hidden Secret is my first short story. It is a whimsical adventure that takes place on the Island of Kauai. If you have ever taken a class with me, it will bring back fond memories of the town of Waimea and my art studio there. The story has 10 chapters and is 29 pages long. It's a great beach read!
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***Here's an excerpt from Chapter One:
The class was pau, a Hawaiian word meaning finished or done, at about 2 p.m., and I started cleaning up the palette trays, brushes, and water containers. I looked up at the window wondering what the scratching
noise was, and realized it was just the plumeria tree scraping against the window again.
All of a sudden I nearly jumped out of my skin as a loud knock came to my door. “Who could this be? I thought I locked both the outside building door and my studio door.”
I was very reluctant to open the door, but the knocking was persistent. Then I heard the voice of an old man of Hawaiian descent. I didn't know what he was saying, but he piqued my curiosity so I opened the door.
“Aloha sistah. I don't mean to disturb you on this beautiful day, but I have some information I need to pass on to you. It is my Kuleana.” (Kuleana is Hawaiian for responsibility.)
I thought, “What kind of information could this Hawaiian man possibly have for me that is so important?” Then I noticed he was clutching his lower abdomen with one hand and a piece of old paper with the other hand.
“Uncle, please come in and sit down. Would you like a bottle of water?”
“Please, sistah, I need you to take this document and hide it where no one will ever find it.”
“But why?” As he handed me the paper, he also let go of his abdomen and blood started to slowly leak out.
“Uncle, Uncle!” I shouted as I grabbed hold of the old man.
“No, no, just take this paper. I have to hele on.” And as I stood there stunned and motionless, he slowly walked out of the building never to be seen again—in flesh and blood.
For a minute I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard the crinkle of the piece of paper in my hand. I put it down on the table next to one of my paintings and ran into the hallway, then out the main doorway, but the man was gone. “Was he real or was he a spirit? I guess I'll never know.”
This time I locked the outside door and double checked it. I marched back to the studio and locked that door too. “My husband is never going to believe this.”
Next to a painting of a sea turtle I'd just finished that morning, was the old piece of paper. At first I panicked. “What information did this piece of paper contain that was worthy of getting stabbed for?” I finally got the nerve to go look at it. It was definitely old. It actually resembled something from the 1700's or thereabouts. The writing on the paper was faint and fuzzy, and it was not written in English. Upon closer examination, it appeared to be written in Hawaiian. “What secrets could this document hold?” I shuddered. “I must show this to Joe. Time to go home.”
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