Where is the Green Temple?

The brochure’s glossy texture had implied that the retreat was one of utmost professionalism. Their mission statement, “Those who come with loud minds, leave with quiet voices,” led Rain to believe that she was embarking on a week-long journey that would fix all of her problems. Subsequently, Rain used an entire paycheck, from Georgie’s Deli, to pay for the week-long retreat at the Green Temple, a thirty minute drive from the Everglade National Park. She did so, to remedy some ill facet of herself that had always been a hindrance to her self esteem. 

Growing up, Rain’s mother always told her she was too loud. Too noisy. Too opinionated. Straight up annoying. Consequently, Rain moved out at eighteen, enrolled in a library science program online, and worked at a Jewish deli to pay for a rat infested one-room apartment that sat on the corner of Arlington Street. Her teachers in elementary school and highschool agreed with Rain’s mother—Rain just had too much to say. However, Rain would take any opportunity to discredit their assumptions, often lowering their opinion of her rather than bolstering it. When Rain left home, she decided that maybe the people around her saying she was loud were right the entire time. And because she desired to pursue a career that required restraint, Rain figured that it was about time to quiet her voice before it interfered with her job prospects. 

Therefore, on the sixteenth day of June, Rain caught a Greyhound bus from a little suburb outside of Philadelphia, and crisscrossed the United States until she found herself in the Florida everglades. The bus dropped her off at a run down Walmart, and then she took a taxi to the Green Temple. 

The retreat was housed in a white, brick building that was shaped like a “T.” The landscaping was plentiful—shrubbery, a well groomed lawn, flourishing trees—contrasting with the rather plain, obscure, and almost forgettable edifice that was the Green Temple. 

Rain slowly walked up the drive, which was lined with rose bushes, and grabbed onto the strap of her duffle bag, pulling it a bit down her shoulder. She walked through the front door and was greeted with a blinding white room, equipped with pale, beige abstract paintings hung on each wall, and seating areas on each side of the room: two modern, square chairs made of opaque white plastic, sitting on top of a fuzzy white rug. Two men sat to the left of Rain and spoke in light voices. She tried to take note of how softly they were speaking so that she could match their octave.

Between the two sitting areas sat a matching desk, devoid of clutter, save for a sleek desktop and a neatly stacked pile of papers. “Welcome to the Green Temple,” the woman sitting behind the desk said. Rain noticed immediately that she was wearing a pale green linen shirt and pants. “Name?” the woman asked.

“Rain Barrow. I registered online.”

“Ah! Let me look you up in our system.” The woman clicked a few times on her computer and then smiled, indicating that she had found Rain’s name. The woman then directed her from the lobby and to a long hallway off the main room.

 “Out that door is the main gathering area. Mildred will show you to your tent.” 

Rain thanked the woman, and then adjusted her backpack. The hallway was white, from the tile floor all the way up to the ceiling. Four doors in total lined the space, and Rain wondered what could be beyond them. She noticed that though people spoke in the main greeting area, the hallway seemed to act as a sensory chamber—quiet within, and each time her flip-flop snapped upwards, it echoed, the noise reverberating off the walls and bouncing back towards her. The noise pierced her ears, and Rain was surprised to find the snapping of her flip-flops to be the onset of a quickly budding headache. 

At the end of the hall, Rain pushed on a heavy door which opened up to an extensive garden area fitted with a pavilion (one of the ones that had an outdoor kitchen area built into it), an inground, sparkling pool, and rows upon rows of azaleas, Black-Eyed Susans, and butterfly milkweed. 

“Welcome!” a young woman with sandy blonde hair shouted from behind a robust bush of azaleas. She trotted to Rain like an antelope would, her pale green linen shirt and pants bouncing as she went. The young woman held out her hand for Rain to take, and when she took it, Rain was instantly aware of a constriction around her throat. It very much felt like a python wrapping itself around her, squeezing, breaking the tiny bones in her neck. The young woman smiled, despite Rain’s discomfort. “Hello. My name is Mildred. You must be Rain?” 

Rain nodded, pulled her hand from Mildred’s grasp, and then rubbed her neck, immediately feeling a pressure release from her airways. 

“Good,” Mildred continued. “We’ve been waiting for you.” Mildred gestured for rain to follow her to a semi-circle of tents nestled on the far edge of the expansive garden area. Mildred brought Rain to a tent that sat at the end of the semi-circle, which was pale yellow, and made from thin tarp-like material. Mildred drew back the tent door-flap and gestured with her hand. “Your home for this next week.” 

“Oh?” Rain peered into the tent, wondering what had happened to the comfy, cozy canvas tent that had been advertised on their brochure and website. “It’s . . . uh—” 

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Mildred widened her smile, to the point that Rain thought there might be someone else controlling this young woman from the inside. 

“Uh hum . . .” Rain nodded, trying to not jump to any bad conclusions, and trying not to manifest any bad outcomes to this retreat by thinking ill of the Green Temple. Perhaps I expected more than what they were actually offering, she thought, tossing her duffle bag into the tent.

“We will have dinner and orientation at seven this evening. The official retreat starts in the morning.”

Rain thanked Mildred for her hospitality, and assured her that she’d be present at dinner once she unpacked. Rain quietly, discreetly, and slowly unfolded her things and took inventory of her toiletries. Though, an ever darkening realization was dawning on her that she may have impulsively embarked on this journey to self improvement without thinking of where she was actually going. She was in the Florida everglades, she was a thousand miles from home, and she was becoming ever aware of the shadowed figures that walked past her tent, stopped, and then kept walking. Rain checked her phone, to only discover that she had no service. Strange, she thought, feeling that python wrap itself around her neck again. I had service in the taxi. 

Rain threw her phone into her backpack and decided she would try again for service later, to call someone and let them know she was safe. But who would I even call?

At dinner, there were exactly thirteen of them. They sat on logs around a rather large fire, just like an episode from Survivor. Mildred, the front desk lady, and two men passed out bowls of buckwheat to the participants, which were topped with a bunless bean burger and two pickles. Rain grimaced at her food and poked the stiff burger with her fork. 

“Welcome all,” Mildred declared, fanning her arms out wide, presenting herself as some kind of Oracle of Delphi archetype. “You have all met me and Sarah, already.” Mildred gestured to the front desk lady. Mildred turned and pointed to both men who helped pass out dinner, and said, “This is Josh and that is Logan.” Mildred tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow is the official start of the retreat. I advise you all to get much needed rest tonight, once you finish dinner, and we will begin first thing in the morning.” Mildred clasped her hands together. “Now, I invite you all to introduce yourselves to each other.” 

Each participant introduced themselves and the city they were from. A woman next to Rain introduced herself as Arabella Smith. “I’m from Kenosha, Wisconsin.” Arabella looked at Rain. “And you?” 

Rain smiled. “Rain Barrow. Philadelphia.” 

Arabella blushed, as if there was something lovely and sweet about a notoriously rough, dirty, and smelly city. 

“Very good,” Mildred interrupted. “Everyone knows each other. Enjoy your evening, and remember—” Mildred paused and looked at each participant in the eyes. Mildred especially focused her attention on Rain. Rain saw Mildred’s eye twitch, and then felt invisible fingers dig into her throat, kinking her vocal cords like one does with a hose. “We start first thing in the morning.” 

Mildred, Sarah, Josh, and Logan signed off for the night, and returned to the building, all four walking in a single file line. Rain assumed that the doors down that main hall she had walked down earlier were where they slept—because where else did they go? 

There were low murmurings of pleasantries among the participants, and little hushed gasps as the sun set and the stars lit up over the everglades that laid beyond the perimeter of the Green Temple. Rain tried to remain calm, but the sudden loss of her voice was an ill planned coincidence that she hoped would resolve itself sooner than later. She moved her mouth and made little choking noises, trying with all of her strength to say a single word. 

Arabella lightly touched Rain’s knee and drew her brows together. “Are you alright?” 

Rain nodded, though she continued to massage her neck muscles to try and release her voice. 

Arabella pursed her lips. “Should I go get Mildred?” 

Rain shook her head, and glanced at the looming building, half of which was barely illuminated by motion lights, and the rest—the moon. 

“Really,” Arabella said, wincing, “it is no trouble at all—”

Then, all at once, it was like there was a pop within her system. Rain coughed, and she felt those invisible fingers release her vocal chords. “I’m fine,” she said, choking, trying to remember how to speak properly, like twenty-three years of speaking had been wiped from her memories. 

Arabella bit her lip and leaned in closer to Rain. “Are you sure?”

Rain nodded, again, and then began rubbing her palms on her thighs. “I think . . . uh . . . I think I’m just a bit homesick.”

“Ah.” Arabella leaned back slightly and smiled. “Terrible service out here too, eh? Can’t call your folks back home.”

Rain shrugged. “We don’t talk much anyways.” She focused on the sparks dancing off of the licking flames, wondering how much she should reveal to Arabella. That she didn’t get along with her folks because they found her annoying? That her mouth got her into more trouble than she ever wished it to? Or that she chose to avoid home all together because of a deep wound (“Rain,” her mother had said, “you won’t amount to anything and you are a disappointment to this family”).

“Yeah, well, I better get to bed. I’m grumpy when I can’t get eight hours in.” Arabella patted Rain’s shoulder, and then walked off into the dark, towards the tents. A few moments later, Rain followed, and changed into a pair of sweatpants. She checked her phone one last time—still no service—and then crawled under her sleeping bag. Things will go fine. You are fine. Everything is fine, Rain repeated to herself in her thoughts, trying to convince herself that everything would be fine and to not even think otherwise. 

In the morning, the participants were awoken by a loud chiming of a bell. Rain dressed in the pair of shorts and white tank she wore the day before, brushed her long brown hair up into a ponytail, and then went to brush her teeth in the communal bathroom that was merely two outhouses and a water spigot. 

The participants wandered over to where the bonfire had been the night before, and were greeted by Mildred, Sarah, Josh, and Logan. Josh and Logan held silver trays with little plastic cups filled to the brim with a greenish, gelatin looking substance. I hope we don’t have to drink those. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Mildred proclaimed, fanning her hands outward like she had at dinner the night previous. “Today, the real work begins.” 

Rain looked to her feet before she met Mildred’s gaze, though she could feel her eyes burning holes into her skull. 

“At Green Temple, we believe in reflection. Quiet isolation. Revelation. And in order to do that, we must be restrained from temptation. What temptation?” Mildred paused to look at each participant. “Speaking to others, when you could be speaking to yourselves instead.” She nodded at Josh and Logan, who went to each participant with the tray, offering them a cup to drink. 

Rain took the last one and dared to look up to meet Mildred’s expression. I just want to watch her watch me drink it. Mildred smiled at Rain, and Rain fought against that creeping, invisible python that slithered around Rain whenever Mildred looked at her. 

“Please,” Mildred said, gesturing to the group. “Drink.” 

Each participant looked at each other before hesitantly bringing the little cups to their lips. 

“We suggest drinking it in one go, instead of drawing it out. It’s not something you want to savor.”

Rain peered into the sloshing sludge and grimaced. Arabella winked at Rain, and then raised her cup to her. Rain reciprocated, and then snapped her head back, so as to force the liquid down her throat without having to taste it. 

That was impossible though. It tasted like foul, rotted, black liquorice that had been dug up from the bottom of a Philly dumpster. She dropped the cup and bent forwards, grunting as the liquid landed into the pit of her stomach. It burned. She saw Arabella keel over and fall to the ground, immediately after she had drunk the entirety of her cup. 

Rain’s vision blurred, though when she looked down towards Arabella, she could see her body twisted into an unnatural position, foam bubbling up and out of her mouth. Around them, participants wobbled, crawled, and clawed at their stomachs. Rain stood planted, where she was, and didn’t dare move an inch. 

She didn’t hear anything. It was as if a vacuum had come by and sucked every sound from the earth. She moved her mouth to try and scream, but that python had worked its way up and up and up to her throat. She could not speak. She could not yell for help. Rain coughed and felt a bubble come up from her throat. She thought that it would be foaming bile, like Araballa, but it was instead blood. It dripped down her chin, and she caught it in her palms. 

You have to move, Rain! Rain looked up and saw Mildred, Sarah, Josh, and Logan, kneeling before participants and rubbing their backs, smoothing out their hair, and acting like they hadn’t just given them poison to drink. Rain saw the door to the building slightly ajar, and decided she had only one shot at surviving whatever mess she had gotten herself in. 

She ran to the door, threw it open, and raced through the building. Rain nearly toppled, tripping over her flip flops and letting them fall off of her feet, once she had made it to the end of the drive. She turned, and through a cloudy visage, Rain saw Mildred standing in the doorway of the Green Temple. 

Rain willed her body forward, and began racing down the road, kicking up dirt, gasping for air through hiccups of blood. If Mildred followed her, she didn’t know. The world didn’t exist for Rain, in that it was melting away around her like a candle. Noise didn’t exist in that world. Her voice was gone. She could not cry out for help, or scream, or weep. But she wasn’t going to give up. 

She ran and ran, for what felt like days. In reality, she ran eight miles, barefoot, and then collapsed from the Floridian heat. A family were on their way to the Everglade National Park, when they found Rain convulsing in the ditch. They took her to the hospital where she was given fluids, and doctors ran toxicology reports on whatever substance she had ingested at the Green Temple. 

“We can’t seem to pinpoint exactly what you were given.” The doctor sat on a rolling chair and flipped through some papers. Rain’s voice had not returned, so she had to communicate through writing. 

They poisoned us, she wrote on a pad and handed it to the doctor. 

He frowned and shook his head. “The police can’t find a Green Temple retreat anywhere on that road. That is all state property.” 

Rain’s stomach sank. Where had she gone? Where was she now? Nothing made sense for her. 

“You are still unwell, and we aren’t sure if your voice will ever come back. Whatever you ingested, well, it fried your vocal cords.” 

Hm, fitting. I actually did leave with a quieted voice. 

“Is there anyone we can call? A parent? A sibling?” 

Rain frowned, but nodded, and jotted down both her parent’s cell phone numbers. 

The doctor gave Rain a sad smile, and then folded the note and put it in his pocket. “I will have my staff try and contact them for you.” 

Rain gave the doctor a nod of gratitude, and then fell back onto her pillows. Her voice was gone, and she knew deep down in her gut that it wasn’t coming back. But, she knew that the Green Temple existed, and Arabella was still there. Dead or alive. Either way, Rain was determined to find her.