Sometimes, things aren't what they appear

by Sapharin

The Chosen One is found in the least expected location: Earth.

This story is based partly on a dream I had, and lot of wish-fulfillment on my part.
George Lucas owns Star Wars and anything having to do with Star Wars.
Matthew Stover is the author of the book version of "Revenge of The Sith".

Sometimes, things aren't what they appear.

by

Sapharin

I had raised my troubled daughter to adulthood; she'd moved out and gone on with her life to the best of her ability. I heard from her infrequently...mainly through people who knew her from some scam she'd pulled on them, in and out of the Legal System, until the courts deemed her a mental case, and the State put her in an institution for the mentally challenged. My fiancé' had become my husband, of just two years, when he was killed during a riot at the prison at which he'd worked for 15 years. It was like someone had torn out my heart.

Now, it was just me. I found myself lost, alone and dissatisfied with the infrequent get-togethers and coffee klatches in which I felt a hollow participant. I sit while the others talked of their kids and grandkids, and what progress they were making in the world; sit in heartbroken silence, when all I wanted to do was run out of the restaurant back to the shelter of my apartment. I'd taken nearly everything back to basics... basic phone service, giving up my precious Internet service that I'd long ago lost interest in...Giving away everything that I felt I didn't need, or no longer wanted, save for a few precious possessions that belonged to my husband. I just felt spent and used up. I had nothing to live for, it seemed.

I smiled without humor, as I packed away my Star Wars stuff...the books...the figures...the lightsabres I'd been so eager to collect... Star Wars...a love...no...Once a passion of mine...just as my love for my husband, had been. Tears fell, splashing on the plastic hilt of my 'Obi-Wan' sabre. I rubbed them into, not off, the hilt, as if I was saying goodbye to an old dear friend. Star Wars...one of the few things I would keep, packed away, like my husband's clothes, badge and spare uniform and boots.

My friends, still invited me to their coffee outings, but I went less and less frequently until the invitations stopped. It was my best friend, Sara, who didn't involve herself in my other friends coffee meetings, who said I was depressed over my husband's death, and needed to find something for me to keep busy. She, herself, had lost her husband, Albert, years before... Heart problems, the doctors had told Sara...one heart attack too many. She'd been through the denial, grief, depression, and finally acceptance of Albert's passing. I was still in transition...going through all of the stages yet, but not accepting. Sara urged me to take a look at myself, and see what I could offer someone in the way of being a companion or a mentor in some way...taking the focus off of myself, and my grief, and focusing on someone less fortunate than myself.

Sara always was smart. And in that thick haze of my grief, I decided I would at least try to make someone's life better than mine certainly was right now. I stopped and picked up a newspaper, before boarding the city bus home to my one bedroom apartment. It was a cold blustery day...winter had more than made itself known, and I was more than eager to get home, and get warm with a cup of coffee...

Heating my cup in the microwave, and absently stirring in sugar out of years of habit, I looked over the newspaper. As usual, it was depressing...the Economy...jobs...all bad and getting worse. I had cut back drastically on my food bill in order to try and make ends meet. Financially, I was considered 'comfortable'...and could 'splurge' on food if I so chose. Given my state of mind, I really cared less if I ate or not. Life was just an endless series of days and nights, without hope or meaning to me. I was just waiting for my clock to tick down and I would die, so I could join my husband. Being in my fifties...I had some time left.

It was on my second cup of coffee, that I saw the ad. A local Nursing Home was looking for volunteers to read, talk to and feed patients who had no visitors or family; Staff was just too overwhelmed to handle it all, and the State had, of course, cut funding once again. The ad was an appeal to those who still had a heart and cared about their fellow man. I'd been that kind of person once in my life...when my husband was alive, and we had made a life together... Could I be that person again?

According to the ad, which you ended up with, was by drawing patient's names out of a hat.

"MY luck," I thought to myself, "I'll get some snippy old biddy I can't get along with..."

"I'll just quit," I told myself, out loud.

"Yes...and it will just be another failure in your life..." my head told me.

The drawing was to be held at 9a.m. the next morning. I was determined to at least show up.

I didn't dress up fancy...it was a Nursing Home after all, but I was comfortable, and that's what mattered most. There were about 30 people standing around looking as lost as I was.

A tall thin older nurse greeted us at the Nurses Station, and explained what was about to happen, as per the newspaper ad. I was sad to see that at least 10 people walked out, once they found out there was no paycheck involved. Hadn't they read the ad? What did they think 'volunteer' meant? I sighed.

One by one, the ones that had remained, all drew names. I was one of the last to reach my hand in, and pick. The name I got was just 'Agnes'.

"Ooooh! You got The Storyteller!" the nurse said loudly. Several other Staff with in ear-shot started laughing. "Good luck putting up with her!" and other dire comments made their way to my ears.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, thinking 'I' had made the mistake.

"Oh...no..no...no..." said the Nurse, whom later I found out was named, Heather, "It's just that Agnes tells stories...and she really gets herself worked up...a lot. She can be demanding, over-bearing, and a lot to handle. She's pretty rough on Staff, demanding stuff we have no clue what she's talking about half the time."

I must have looked terrified, because Nurse Heather, added, "But at other times she's normal...even pitiful...wanting to go home...but she has no family that we can find. Sad really. If she had family to take her home, we'd release her to them."

I nodded silently. Already, I'd started feeling sorry for Agnes. I could relate to not having family.

Nurse Heather herded me along, reluctantly, to make introductions.

As we approached Agnes's door, I saw a large woman raise up in her bed, swathed with white sheets, point an arm at me, and in a booming voice, announced, "THE CHOSEN ONE HAS ARRIVED! NOW, I WILL HAVE MY BACTA!"

The last thing I remember, is running out of Nursing Home...and laughter echoing in my ears as I ran.

I woke with a start the next morning, with Agnes's words ringing in my ears. It took me a bit to realize I was home in my own bed...but her words troubled me...I'd heard something like them somewhere before...but where?

I'd fixed myself a small breakfast, but only picking at it, when it dawned on me where those words might have come from...

"I wonder?" I thought to myself, as I dug out the huge storage crate which held my Star Wars stuff. Digging down through all the other stuff, I found a copy of "Revenge of The Sith" by Matthew Stover. I leafed through the pages...yes! There is was! A reference to Anakin Skywalker as 'The Chosen One' !

No wonder the Staff thought she was crazy...Agnes was a Star Wars fan...something that had faded into obscurity years ago! My knowledge of Star Wars fandom started flooding back; I now remembered what bacta was and what it was used for...and that it wasn't available on this planet.

I dug into my breakfast with new hunger. Now armed with this knowledge, I could relate better with Agnes. That afternoon, I headed back to the nursing home. To my surprise, the home hallways were quiet, and there was no Staff at the desk. I walked in, but was stopped by a Security Officer. I explained who I was, and he checked the sheet in front of him. I was listed, and allowed to go into the Wing that was Agnes's home.

To my surprise, Nurse Heather was there. Agnes was on a breathing machine, and looked like she was asleep. I looked at her with questioning eyes. She stepped to the door away from Agnes, with me in tow.

"She's had a bad turn," Heather told me, "She'll be doing really well...and then there will be a down turn, like the one she had last night. She'll rally...and be ok for a while...but...one of these times..."

Nurse Heather didn't have to finish. I knew what she meant.

I nodded, slowly. I made a quick decision, and went in an pulled a chair up beside the bed. I pulled out the book I'd brought with me, and started reading "Revenge of The Sith", more to myself than Agnes...but it gave me something to do, while I waited the outcome for Agnes. Nurse Heather checked the breathing machine, smiled at me, and went on to other patients.

I read until I was too tired to read any more. I said goodbye to Agnes, and quietly stepped out, telling the Nurse I'd be back tomorrow, but leaving my name and number in case of any changes. She rang me a cab home.

The next morning, I checked my answering machine for the message I hoped was not there. Thankfully, it wasn't.

Imagine my surprise, when I went in to Agnes's room, and she was sitting up eating her lunch off of a tray! Impulsively I hugged her.

"You're alive!" I shouted.

"Well of course I am, " she responded, "Takes more than a medication reaction, to slow down this old freighter."

Nurse Heather popped her head in. "See? Told you she'd rally, " she said with wink, and then went on her way.

"I had a reaction to some medication they gave me, apparently, " Agnes told me, "I've told them I can't take penicillin, but they keep giving it to me for my infections."

"I'm allergic to it, too, " I said, "Since I was a kid."

"And let me correct you, " Agnes said, "It's not Annie-kin...it's Anna-kin Skywalker."

"Huh?" I said, confused.

"The Jedi holocron you were reading...you were reading, weren't you?" Agnes asked.

"Yes...yes, I was..." I stammered, "How did you know? You couldn't have possibly known..."

Agnes's voice changed to a perfect Yoda.

"Strong am I in the Force, " she said, "Know these things I do."

I had a cold chill run down my spine. If I didn't know better...it was a perfect impersonation.

"Agnes, you are downright spooky, Woman!" I said, with a bravado of a laugh.

Agnes smiled. "You'd be surprised what you can do with the Force, " she said, whispering in her normal voice. "Much I will teach you, Child. You are the Chosen One."

"Yeah...right..." I said answered, scoffing...and for added measure, I said, "You sound like Qui-Gon Jinn when you say that."

Her eyes misted over suddenly. "Great Jedi was he, " she said, sadly, "He didn't realize the path he was heading the Jedi down, when he found Anakin..." She sighed talking as if she actually knew Qui-Gon, "...but the Purge happened, and many of us took refuge on Outer Rim planets...and others not so easily found...like this one."

I was confused again...was I hearing right? Was Agnes saying that Earth was a hidden planet from the Purge? I shook my head. "Agnes...you're talking in riddles again. You're confusing science-fiction with reality," I said, firmly, "Star Wars is a creation of movie producer, George Lucas...it's not real!"

"George Lucas only scratched the surface in his Holocrons, " Agnes stared hard at me with her blue eyes that went perfectly with her close-cropped short silver-white hair. "Even he has no idea how close he came to the truth."

Agnes sighed, in frustrated resignation. "No more today, " she said to me, "I can't teach you any more today. You can leave now."

For months afterwards, Agnes would try and 'teach' me about being a Jedi...what it really meant, far beyond what the Star Wars prequels, and trilogy had portrayed. And, without success, I would debate and argue with her that it was all just a bunch of movies. But somehow...the knowledge sunk in, and my passion for Star Wars and being one of the good guys was reignited. Agnes had succeeded in giving me something to love and live for again.

Just as I was starting to live again...I got the phone call one night I dreaded, but knew one day would inevitably come. It was Nurse Heather on the line. I could barely make out what she was saying...I made out that Agnes had passed on...and something about something Agnes had left me providing I followed through on her last wish: "Take her home".

I remember mumbling some condolence-type things...how sorry I was to hear...and all that...but, my mind was lost in confusion. Take her home? Where...how? She had no family! Why ME ?

I showed up at the Nursing Home, as Heather had asked me to, to pick up an envelope addressed to me. She smiled hollowly; her eyes rimmed red, yet she remained professional.

"She left this for you, " Heather said, quietly, "If you choose to follow through, I will meet you at the address inside, in two weeks. Be prepared to walk away from all you know. Settle all your affairs."

I looked at her, stunned. "You make it sound like I should get ready to die, " I told her, tersely, "Did you forget who died here."

Heather's blue-grey eyes misted over. "I know full well who died here. More than you will ever know or may ever understand..." She turned on her heel, and hurried away in anger.

I realized I'd struck some sort of major nerve. I headed for the bus, with an average looking manila envelope in my head. Tempting though it was, I waited until I got home to open it.

I nearly dumped my coffee, as I pulled out page after page of typed paper. I realized I was looking at a Will and Testament! What the...? I was named as co-Executor. Nurse Heather was Executor, and had final say-so in what was to be done for Agnes. To my surprise, Agnes had requested a simple pine box...not an elaborate casket. I was to accompany Heather on the trip 'home', where ever home was. Apparently, Nurse Heather knew more than she was saying. I got the impression that there had been a long history between Agnes and Nurse Heather...long enough for Agnes to take her into her confidences.

I sighed. Some how, I felt I was being corralled into something I really wasn't sure about getting into, and yet, I felt compelled to show up at the address indicated by Nurse Heather, just to satisfy my curiosity.

I decided to go try and talk to my daughter; and explain to her that I may be away for a while...a long while, perhaps. To my surprise, I was informed by Staff, that she had shut down to the point of catatonic, and was on IV fluids to keep her alive. Tests revealed that she'd had a progressive tumor on the base of her brain. It was a matter of time for her as well. I lost it, collapsing in a heap on the floor. Hours later, I woke on a cot in some sort of waiting room. A nurse popped in to check on me. Once she saw I was wake, she went an informed the rest of Staff. A Grief Counselor came in, and we talked for over another hour. The bottom line was...my daughter, for all intent and purposes, was gone...just like my husband was.

When I could steel myself, I went in and said my goodbyes. So much behavior was now explained. I just couldn't understand why the tumor hadn't been found.

"Because everything was attributed to her ADHD/Bipolar disorder. No one bothered to look any further," the Counselor informed me, "Unfortunately...it's too late now."

I nodded. She left me alone to talk to my daughter. I talked and talked and talked about anything and everything, and said everything I felt I needed to say to her. I tried to convey that despite her behavior, I loved her above all else. The breathing machine reminded me of Darth Vader...and remained neutral.

When I was done, I talked to Staff again, and explained that I would be away, possibly for quite awhile...what arrangements that needed to be made, would be up to the State. I had no say-so.

Coming home once again to an empty apartment, I took a good long look around. I made a list of stuff I wanted to take with me; it looked long, but when all was said and done...it was basic necessities. I called my best friend, Sara, and asked her to take care of my apartment until I returned. If I didn't, and I didn't explain why I might not, she was to sell what she could and use the money how she saw fit. I did tell her about my daughter, and again we cried until we were out of tears, and there was nothing left to say. Sara thought I was being a bit odd about the apartment, but she agreed to do as I asked. I thanked her for being such a good life-long friend.

I made one more trip: To see my husband one last time. I didn't feel strange talking to a headstone; I felt that he knew I was there, and that he knew what was going on.

Before I knew it...it was time for me to head to the address indicated in Agnes's Will. I looked around for the last time. I was grateful I didn't have pets.

"Didn't think you'd show up, " Nurse Heather told me, as she opened the door.

"I have nothing holding me here now, " I said, explaining about my husband, and my daughter.

To my surprise, she hugged me tightly, offering her condolences, and told me that I was being 'brave'.

She stepped away, saying she needed to change, but rejoined me shortly after. My jaw dropped when she re-appeared. I couldn't believe what she was wearing.

I followed her upstairs, my heart pounding in terror, and mentally asking myself if I had gotten involved with two insane people. Heather just chuckled and smiled, but remained silent.

I stepped into a room big enough for a dining area, and to my shock, Agnes's pine box was there in the middle of the room.

"What the hell 'is' this?" I demanded, "Just what are you doing--what sick morbid game 'is' this?"

"All will be revealed in a matter of moments" Heather replied.

I noticed a round dark object in her hand. Opening it, she pressed a button.

"Here we go!" she said, "Hang on!"

"Hang on to what?" I shouted...my voice warbling wildly, as a bright blue light shaft engulfed the room from seemingly nowhere.

I blanked out.

When my vision cleared, I was immediately sick, wretched, and then felt better.

"You'll get used to it, " said Nurse Heather.

I barely heard her...my breath was taken away by the colossal building before me. I recognized it immediately.

I was standing on the grounds of 'the' Jedi Temple!

"Is this real?" I asked, incredulous, "This is impossible!"

"It is as real to us here, as your life was in your time, " another voice answered me. I turned to see another brown robed Human coming towards us.

Heather immediately offered a bow. I just stood there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.

The other person looked at Agnes's casket. "Ahhh..yes...You've brought Master Dareena home" she said, and introduced herself as Jedi Master Colain. "Our thanks to you." She bowed to me. "We understand what it has taken for you to come here. We appreciate your sacrifice."

I just stood there. When I found my voice, it was small and squeaky. "What happens now?" I asked, sounding like little Anakin, on Tattooine.

"You will be trained as a Jedi, " Heather told me, now introducing herself as Master Myanhna, "Did you think Agnes--I mean, Master Dareena--was just wasting her time with you?"
I gulped.

"When she said you were the Chosen One...she meant that you were Force-sensitive, " Myanhna replied.

"How did she know?" I squeaked again.

"We Jedi know, " Myanhna replied, "Trust me. We know."

I watched as some sort of gadget was placed on Agnes's casket so it floated along as we walked. I was just overwhelmed by it all.

"You'll be given an apartment of your own since you are too old for the Padawan dormitories; you'll be given six months of your time to get oriented, and then you'll be starting your training after that." Heather--Myanhna--explained, "You have language classes, and other training before you even pick up a training sabre."

"But...I thought..." I started. "You still have much to learn." Heather cut me off, "By the way...what are we going to call you?"

I thought fast. A name came to me. "Sapharin", I answered, resurrecting my online name from long ago..."Call me Sapharin."

"Sapharin it is, " said Heather as we all walked. "Welcome home, Sapharin. Welcome home."

The end