I had taken the opportunity to take a one week vacation to the beautiful island of Fiji. I had brought along with my two children, the wild and unstoppable Noah, my six year old son, and my happy and gorgeous daughter, Alana, she was eight years old. We were staying in a little cottage in the city of Jahovas San Clemente, a live, yet quiet and still at night place. We had arrived on a Friday, July 5th and as we all stepped into our little cottage, a wind blew behind us and shut the front door closed. I imagined it just being the wind and I settled in while Noah and Alana played around.
It was 6:30 PM and as I still unpacked our things, I yelled for Alana to come help me, she did not respond. I searched the house but could not find either one, Alana or Noah. I started to panic, but as I searched more I looked outside the living room window and found them both. I quickly ran outside to where they were, by an old and broken tree, just sitting there, as if they were waiting for something.
The next morning, I did not want to let it go, what had happened. But it had only been the second day here and I didn't want to be worrying about stuff like that. I didn't want to worry at all, we were on vacation. Me and the kids went exploring out back behind the house for a little while, and every chance I got, I tried to glance at the tree more often. It was crooked and old, and no leaves were ever to grow on it, unless some miracle had happened, and the bark was very white. I couldn't help but feel just a little cautious about that tree.
The kids had a great time exploring. I felt good for once. Until it became dark and I could not find Noah and Alana anywhere. I looked outside the living room window again and saw them both, sitting by that lonely tree again. I did the same routine I had done the night before, and I sat down with them to talk. "Noah, I said looking towards him. Alana, I said looking towards her." They did not look up. "Don't run off like that, what is up with you two visiting this tree every night?" I had asked. They still did not look up. "Tell me", I said. Noah had looked up at me, his eyes became very glassy. "Them", he had told me. I stopped and froze. "Them who?" I asked. He looked down, "Them. The people, the spirits. They call all night and we listen to them", he had said. At that moment, I had felt like my heart had stopped for a minute, and now things were starting to scare me even more than before. I grabbed them both and ran inside and locked the doors. I stayed up all that night, for two reasons mainly. One, I could not sleep and two, I was debating on whether it was true, so I tried listening for them. I did not hear one thing.
The third and fourth day I kept the doors locked at night, for the safety of Noah and Alana, but they did not act the same. The laughing and screams of joy had stopped, and the room had felt very empty and quiet. This vacation was turning to be not the best for us all.
In the morning, we had a scheduled meeting for a history tour of Jahovas. When we boarded the two storey bus, the guide asked for our location, we had told him we were staying in a little cottage just a little bit south of Jahovas, and that the house was named "Arbol" which had meant "Tree of Life". I had told him it wasn't a tree of any life; just by the way it had looked. He stood there, without saying anything, as we walked gently past him. The tour was good, the guide had showed us all of the many historic places of Jahovas and it delighted the kids very much. I noticed our house down the path and we were headed towards it, the guide glanced at us once or twice without saying a word. The bus stopped. And to my surprise, the guide started to talk, I was thinking, "This is a historic place? It can't be!" But the guide kept talking.
"This...is...the..."Arbol"...or in other words... English actually... The "Tree of Life". He talked in a strange way and pointed at the tree. Noah and Alana looked at me as I looked at them too. "Built in 1750 by the Gomez family. The house was passed on for many generations and is now for rent. He said looking at us. The "Arbol" has a long and strange history. In the late 1890's a family rented the house shortly after the Gomez family dumped the house and put it up for rent. The family loved the house, all they had ever wanted was a small cottage in Jahovas San Clemente, and there they were, with their dream. They loved it so much they had bought it, and had a baby boy. They raised him well. The boy had loved the tree; he had played in it until dark, when he went inside for dinner. But one day, the boy played and played in that tree, as dark fell; he climbed out of the tree, but slipped, and fell. The boy died, by a terrible accident by breaking his neck. When the parents found him lying on the ground, they freaked. They left him there and ran away, far away, and never saw him again. He became buried and now the "Tree of Life" is his only life. Coming out at dark, he still plays and in the morning sleeps underground. Several families with children report their children have heard calls from beneath and seen a young boy play in the withered tree branches. And if you ask anyone, it is true. Only but a few families have stayed there, but soon leave before their leaving destination".
With hearing this, I was in awe. My jaw had dropped open and I soon began to cry. The tour had ended and people watched as we walked into the house and left. We had left Jahovas early and returned home and safe. But I will never forget my experience in Fiji, at Fiji Night...