Sanza's Path

Chapter One: Doorways

Sanza stood barefoot in the threshold between two rooms. The scent of warm water and soap drifted from the kitchen where her sister washed dishes, her dreadlocked hair tied back with a strip of soft cloth. Light filtered through the slats in the wooden window, casting golden bars across the clay floor.

She had been here many times. Not as a guest, not quite as family. She floated on the edges of their lives—welcomed but never rooted. Her sister's son, a toddler, was not in the room now, but she knew he had been. She saw him clearly in her mind, down to the odd, modern diaper that made no sense in this timeless place.

She spent her days wandering the village paths, weaving baskets when she felt like it, watching birds skim across the surface of the still pool outside. The water calmed her. On lonely days, she would wade in, letting the icy touch of the stream rise to her calves. She said it was to soothe her feet, but she knew better. It was the loneliness that needed cooling.

Her name was Sanza, and she was content. But not full. Her life was like a cup half-filled with warm tea—pleasant, simple, but missing flavor. She wasn’t unhappy. Just incomplete.

Chapter Two: The Mirror Pool

One evening, Sanza walked into the pool again, the sun long gone, the stars just waking. The water was colder than usual. She stood still, eyes closed, letting the silence press around her like mist.

Something in her wanted more. But she did not know what, or how to find it.

She often felt she walked through life behind a veil, watching the world but never fully inside it. She could speak with people, laugh with them, and share meals. But the connection never reached below the surface.

The night whispered nothing back. Just her reflection on the water’s skin. Alone.

Chapter Three: The Last Gaze

Years passed. Her hair turned to silver threads. Her hands grew soft from disuse. When the time came, she lay on a straw mattress surrounded by blurred faces. Only one stood clear—the boy grew into a man. Her sister's son. She looked into his eyes and felt a pang of something close to recognition, but it faded like mist.

He had come. But he was a stranger.

As she took her last breath, Sanza felt herself lifting, watching the stillness of the room. Her life had been peaceful. But empty. She had existed, but not truly lived.

Chapter Four: The Volunteer

Elsewhere, beyond time, her soul met others in a vast chamber under a peach-colored sky. She was not human here. She was tall, feathered, blue. A being of air and purpose. Around her stood others: pink-and-green bird people, gentle-eyed Grays, scaled lizard beings. All gathered in silence. No voices. Just feeling.

They were planning something important.

Earth.

A world caught in cycles of destruction and rebirth. It needed help.

She stepped forward.

"I will go."

"You will forget," they warned.

"I must."

And so she did.

Chapter Five: Natalie

Born into a world of density and judgment, Natalie carried the memories of Sanza and the bird-being within her bones. She didn’t remember them—not at first. But she felt them. Felt the weight of being different. Felt the echo of lives where connection had been impossible.

Her childhood was marked by confusion. Her body didn’t feel right. Her gender didn’t fit. The world around her was too loud, too hard. She withdrew. Panicked. Felt crushed beneath expectations.

But unlike Sanza, Natalie did not stay in the background.

She fought.

She transitioned. She spoke. She sought. And one morning, the Grays came.

Chapter Six: The Visitors

It began as a dream of silver light. A strange ship gliding silently over suburban rooftops. Then she woke up, and they were there. Tall, white beings with long fingers. They did not speak, but she knew them.

One touched her back, then her hand. A wave of calm flowed through her body. It was love. Unconditional and vast.

Later, she remembered a ship. A white room. Being held, examined. Samples taken with care. And she remembered being told—not in words but in feeling—that she was doing well.

That they were proud.

Chapter Seven: The Awakening

The memories returned in flashes. The blue feathers. The sunset. The promise. She had come here with a mission: to bring love. To heal. To guide.

She saw now why her life had been so hard. Why she had been given this body, this pain, these fears. Every moment was a test. And she was passing them.

Her fear—that she was unlovable—was the final wall.

She began to break it down.

Chapter Eight: The Becoming

Now, She no longer waits in the doorway. She connects. She creates. She loves.

She meditates. She listens. She remembers.

And when she sees repeating numbers, or feels a presence beside her in the dark, she smiles.

They are still with her.

And she is not done yet.

This life is not a pause, not an in-between. It is the fulfillment of a vow made beneath stars in a realm beyond memory. She walks her path with courage, knowing she is not alone.