Saria: Queen of Light Vol I

Episode 1- You've got mail

Monica sighed and rubbed her temples. "Ma petit, I can't locate the source of the pain."

Saria smiled, swaying slightly, widening her eyes so as not to be a dead give away of her unbalanced mental state. "Oh maman,I'm sorry....maybe tea?"

Monica cocked her head. "Tea? I just------" she narrowed her eyes. "SARIA!"

"What?" Her teenage daughter asked innocently as she jumped on her bed. "Why are you----"

"I know you're not smoking anything in my house!"

"I'm not!"

"So what is that I smell?"

"You don't smell anything!"

"Exactly!"

"What?" Monica's small eyes widened. "Don't talk to me like one of your white friends!" she reached for Saria. "Come here! Come here---talking back to----" She chased Saria around her room. The teenage girl laughing from the weed as her mother grabbed her arm. "Who you talking to?"

Saria dipped out of the slap and instead hugged her mother tightly.

"Let me go! I said....Let me....ahhhh Saria....let me go..." she gave up as her daughter refused to budge. "I'm still going to slap you." Monica smiled, wrapping her arms around her daughter and falling into the embrace. "I'm so proud of you.....Boston College....." she chuckled, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "The daughter of Monica Mazama...mon dieu..."

Saria looked up into her mother's tired eyes. "Maman, merci-----"

They both turned to the doorbell, chiming throughout the house. Mother and daughter gave matching glances of confusion.

"You waiting for somebody?"

Saria shook her head. "No, I was going to do some home visits later...."

Monica shook her head. "No....."

They stared at each other as the doorbell rang once more.

Saria knew her mother did not like guests or visitors. Might be why she chose this house further into the forested area of their neighborhood. It was a cute little cottage in the middle of the city that actually managed to be tucked away.

"One with nature." Monica grinned, as she'd planted flowers and trees and fruits that sold like crazy at the farmer's market.

But Saria knew her mother had secrets. She'd always known that. Her mother liked their solitude, their privacy which in turn was more reasons for the neighbors to call her a white witch. She lived and breathed the stereotype. Dark lady, long black hair, except for the auburn strand in front that matched her daughter's coily auburn hair. Always wore black. Could cure almost any ailment with natural plants found in her garden. Was a foreigner with an accent. If Americans did nothing else, it was to trust foreigners with accents for any supernatural reason.

If she fit the role of african vodoo princess....then she was african vodoo princess.

"Oh child we coming from a family of average witches." Her mother would say. "Nothing spectacular about us. We weren't the smartest, nor where we the prettiest." she would shrug. "We were just the most desperate."

And then she would stop. Nonsense she would call it. And then tuck Saria into bed with a sad smile. "But this is a gift, many will not understand. We must survive."

Saria knew that. Besides it wasn't like her mother could fly on brooms or have real magic. No, her mother was a potions master. She knew every single plant and herb from homicidal to aphrodisiacal. She really was in tune with nature.