Narican- the Cloaked Deception

by D M Robbins

  She places a finger to her lips and wanders off.

  With money in hand I walk over to the register and watch her. She walks into the next aisle where two of the sweetest women shop together. They’ve been best friends for over forty years and have shopped together once a week for all that time.

  She bumps one of them and blames the woman. “Watch where you’re going, missy!”

  I shake my head. There’s no shortage of rude people. She walks over, placing a spatula on the counter.

  “That’s it?” It seems such a strange purchase, and not an emergency.

  “Yes, this is what I need.”

  “Okay.” I shake my head, picking it up to read the price on the bottom when she grabs my hands tightly in hers then closes her eyes, speaking in this muttering language. “Bruntdndn, bruntdndn, lashevan, lashevan, bruntdndn, bruntdndn.mmnmnmnmn, rstlan, rstlan, mnmnmnmnnnnnn, bruntdndn, bruntdndn.” She releases my hands, opens her eyes, then scowls at me, twisting her mouth to the side.

  Regaining my composure, I ask, “Why did you do that?” I hand her back her change tucking my hands into my pocket. She walks out without a word, leaving the spatula behind.

  In the aisle the women begin arguing. “Well, your husband was never that bright… God rest his soul… and the chicken breast you make is always dry… I’m shopping elsewhere and without you…”

  The one woman puts down her basket and walks out. The other woman, Dolores, stands in shock. “Well, good riddance,” she says with tears in her eyes.

  I look back at the woman who just left, knowing she had something to do with this.

  SEEING IS NOT BELIEVING

  On my way home after closing an old man comes out of a bank clutching his money when a smoke ball descends over him. The old man scowls. His hands wave as if swatting away mosquitoes as he disappears into the expanding fog.

  My feet involuntarily shift forward, my knees pump, drawn to the cloud like salmon are drawn upstream. The cloud grows larger as more fuzzy smoke balls the size of basketballs dart in, expanding it. Pedestrians walk past. No one seems to notice.

  I hustle over and enter the haze cloud. Disoriented at first, ready to pump knees and grab the man to safety. Yet the air is heavy, sulfuric, and I can’t see well. Bodiless forms swoop and gnaw on him, attacking with horns and fangs, darting through him effortlessly. I wonder who this old man is and what he did. Disfigured creatures with distorted eyes like from my night terrors seize upon him. Though sweating, I shiver and feel weak.

  Taking notice, they release him to swarm around me. They bite and slash. My thoughts shift to negative ones, not feeling powerful at all. The man falls to the ground bleeding, with money in his hand, tears in his eyes.

  I can’t stop them with fists that land on nothing. There are too many and they are increasing. My knees have stopped pumping. I have no speed or powers, growing feebler as an illness takes over. I feel my head, growing sad thinking about my parents and how they died. I could have saved them. I was so useless. What is the point of my life? My parents wondered if I was even theirs. Unwanted memories from kids in school who made fun of me and beat me up because I was different.

  The car accident and death of my parents plays over and over again. I hear the crashing, screams, and bending metal.

  Dreams that haunt me. Our kingdom and the dark blades of mist killing everyone. I am so lost, lonely. Cold.

  Death pulls me to join them, surrender to the pain. Tears of sadness run down my cheeks as I fall to the ground curling up like a baby. The entities dive and dart around me.

  More haze expands the black cloud as a storm rains inside me. Sadness consumes me as they gnaw on my life. I can’t fight them. I deserve them. Anger turns inward at how bad I’ve been. I hate who I am. How I look, where I work, that I’ve caused so much trouble.

  Wanting them to end me. I’m curled in a blubbering ball while my family is murdered again and again. I want to close my eyes forever when I see large sneakers and bony legs beside me. Expecting them to stomp and put me out of my misery, I grab at the legs. “Please… Please. Do it now.” All of my pain rises.

  I follow the legs. It’s the tall thin man with the blue eyes standing inside the storm. I should’ve known he was trouble. I close my eyes briefly, waiting for it to end. But no foot comes stomping down.

  Opening my eyes, I see him swinging his arms wildly. His blazing blue eyes shine like a spotlight, hitting these scary entities, which dry up and disappear. He jumps around like a lunatic and the cloud grows lighter. They cower as he faces them. They flee, scatter, and the cloud is gone as if blown away by wind.

  I’m now laying on the sidewalk a few feet from the old man. The thin man helps him up and brushes him off as he scampers away, still holding his money. “Thank you,” he mutters.

  The day returns and people walk by. Many glance at me, shaking their heads.

  “Look at him. Just lying on the sidewalk. I am so sick of bums,” one man says.

  Painful memories fade and the tears stop. The thin man pulls me up as other pedestrians pass by, disinterested.

  *

  He brushes me off. “You should be more careful now that you’re eighteen.” He scans up and down the block then grabs me, pulling me in close. His eyes penetrate and his voice speaks firmly. “That was a trap and you did not know. Why?”

  I shake my head, confused.

  “They lured you.”

  “What are those creatures? I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

  “Those are trapped entities, prisoners if you will, that believe if they kill you, they will be freed. But they are mistaken. They will only find more pain.”

  He releases me. “How do you get like that?”

  “Toxins in their blood tapping into their most base emotions: fear, pain, loss. The essence of each soul is trapped by the dark forces. They cannot be in their bodies or continue their evolutionary journey until they can free themselves.

  “Oh.” I nod. This guy is nuts.

  He turns and walks away. “Come,” he says over his shoulder without looking back. “You have been trapped as well, between two worlds.”

  I hear his words while watching more haze balls gather above sewer grates and outside building ducts.

  STRANGE APARTMENT

  Inside his apartment, there are stacks of food boxes and junk in all directions. I wonder if this guy’s a hoarder. Sunlight fans in with the shades drawn. Complex math problems float in front of the walls and ceiling. They glow blue and move in wavelike motion. The numbers in one equation keep changing, updating. I glance around for a projector. Gross, he uses the kitchen sink for washing his clothes. Laundry hangs above food crusted dishes hanging from cabinet doors.

  “They did invent washing mach—”

  “Shh, do not speak.” He listens at a wall, leaning through one equation that shifts out of his way. He places his ear over to the front door then checks the three deadbolts. He strides to the middle of the room, straightening his back, raising his chin, and stops. His blues eyes match the hue of the projections. “I am Tanz the Accountant,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I almost burst out laughing. “You’re an accountant?”

  He nods proudly.

  “That was some badass stuff out there for an accountant. But, uh, I don’t need my taxes done. Excellent customer service, however. You saved me and I do appreciate that. Nice place you’ve got.” I step to leave, reaching for the door.

  “Boy, sit down.” He points to a cloth chair with books, shirts, and plates on it. I stare, not wanting to. He sighs, moving the items. “Sorry, not used to guests. Now, where was I?”

  I shrug, sitting without leaning back, not wanting to stick to anything.

  “To mortals, I am a seer.”

  I nod, he should see how he lives.

  “Clearly by that vacant look in your eyes you do not understand. I account for events before, during, and after they have happened, every detail, even the most minute, something off i
n the shadows, I can and will observe.”

  He raises both hands. Blue streaks come alive leaving trails behind them like airplane exhaust. The equations pulsate and thump.

  “I hope your landlord doesn’t mind.”

  He ignores me as images play from the event outside: me leaving the store then into the haze cloud, then the gnawing and suffering. I remember the pain.

  Leaning forward I ask, “How do you do that?” I scan the room for a camera. “This must be one of those gotcha shows.” Yet upon seeing the mess, I realize no one would film here.

  “Shh, do not speak. Your brain must relearn who you are. These immature quips achieve nothing.”

  “Sorry, I crack jokes when I get nervous. My psychiatrist says it’s a coping mechanism.”

  He strides to the window and peers out. “Time is limited. Your life is in danger. Any jokes now?” He glances over his shoulder at me.

  “No, I’m sorry. But this is too much. Too much is happening I don’t understand. I don’t know who I am or why I’m here or what the heck is going on.”

  Pondering, he returns to the room’s center. “You are a very powerful young man. More powerful than your mind can currently fathom. You were hidden from the dark forces by the sun gods after our de-evolution and Narican’s fall. You have always sensed more exists beyond what your eyes can see, yet you have never arrived at this broader self.”

  I nod absently. He is a seer. “I’ve always felt like an outsider looking in.”

  “Indeed, you are. We were deceived by the dark forces.”

  “Dark forces, sir?”

  He nods.

  “Besides sunlight illuminating and encouraging life to grow, there is an equal and opposite dark light. And this dark light or dark force illuminates only suffering, pain, and destruction of all that lives. It is the very opposite of love, goodness, and devotion. And against the code of Narican to live at one’s highest state. Let me ask: do you dream?”

  “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

  “And what do you dream of?”

  “I… I’d rather not say. I need to call my doctor.” I stand, wanting to leave.

  He clasps his hands together. “A great battle, perhaps? Your father, a king, being cut down by a dark blade of mist?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I am the record keeper. I was there. Your dreams are not dreams at all, yet past life recollections trapped within your cells. They are your memories,” he says, pointing at my chest.

  I sit again, reaching for the dirty chair, and lean back. “How do you know these things?”

  “Do you know of the Akashic Records?”

  I shake my head.

  With patience he continues, “The Akashic Records have recorded every thought and moment in universal history. It is a database of all histories, not only Earth’s, but all realms, precincts, dimensions. I created them and yet our families were murdered or cast out into the universe. There are no records as to how or why.”

  I shake my head and shrug. “Aka… what? So, you’re a record producer and an accountant? I’m not really following you. We were cast out? Is that why I have these dreams? You realize I work at a grocery store and have no idea what you’re talking about. I can help you with yams and rhubarb.”

  “I understand it is a process. Allow your mind to expand.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, so how did these bad guys avoid these records of yours?”

  “That is something we must find out. They are here now, infiltrating this planet. And if we do not find them, it will fall. Your family kept these dark forces, this dark light at bay the way a body’s immune system keeps bacteria in check. That is how the universe remained balanced. Now that is lost. I have scanned the records and no information has been recorded.”

  “Like it’s been deleted?”

  “No, impossible. More as if it was never there, which is equally impossible. You must remember who you are. It is imperative,” he says, pointing at me with a long slender finger again, “Claremone.”

  I bolt upright. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

  “I know much about you.”

  “Well, why don’t I know you?”

  “There had been no need until now. And you were just a boy.”

  Tanz turns back to his calculations. They shimmer with a blue radiance as if alive. As he completes each one it collapses and flies off.

  “Here, let me show you.” In a flurry of movement, he shows a planet that sits atop a funnel tornado.

  “These are the dimensions. The bottom one for sentient beings is here, Earth.” The depiction moves and sways with his blue life force. “This is Narican, our home.”

  I reach out to touch it. He zooms into the planet, past the atmosphere and black triangle mountains and diamond palaces that sparkle within mountainsides; waterfalls of lavender run alongside, and all sit under three onyx moons.

  “This is Narican now.”

  Black clouds fill the horizon; broken, collapsing buildings; people enslaved, doing menial labor removing boulders with vacant looks in their eyes, suffering.

  He turns to me. “Do you understand who your dream family is?”

  I shake my head. “Not really.”

  “You and I are the last of the Sun Clan, the gatekeeper to the gods that reside within each star, including the sun of this planet. The peace had been kept for millennia. With the cleansing we were betrayed by the Toxic Whisperers, and reduced to human form, the lowest form of sentient being.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, slow down. Reduced to human form? Cleansing? What are you talking about?”

  “The toxins that spread on Narican are the same toxins spreading here. They devolve or kill organisms depending upon quantity intake. The dark forces use it as a weapon. That storm is sweeping through the dimensions.”

  “How? What does it do?”

  “The toxins sever DNA strands, functions.”

  I nod, trying to allow this information in. My brain hurts but somehow I understand. “You mentioned the sun. Is that why it’s turned rust colored?”

  Tanz peers out the blinds. “Yes.” But offers nothing further.

  “Well, how do we stop them? Do they fear? I mean, what’s their weakness?”

  “They hide with bravado, loud chatter, safety in numbers, manipulation. Only a Light Being can dissipate them, like a morning sun evaporates fog. That is why they scattered when I stared into them. Their fears and doubts defeated them, not I. The extent of my warrior powers are to be but a mirror.

  “Many humans are torn in two between their emotions and spirit. It is the great dichotomy, the great struggle of higher and lower self. Wanting to be more, while stuck in pain. I look out this window and see the daily struggle. Feeling they are more than their daily lives present, their true lives somewhere off in the distance. Only the alignment can bring these two sides together.”

  I nod, knowing exactly what he means.

  “May I read your memories?”

  I nod.

  “Please stand.”

  He places his hands over my forehead and stomach.

  “Your center is the soul or spiritual cavity and your link to the past and universe.”

  Ah, the dantian, I think but don’t say. “So, we’ve lived before?” I ask as he approaches.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why people say I’m an old soul?”

  He chuckles, nodding. “I’d say, approximately 2.2 million years. Now, quiet your mind,” he says, placing his hands on me. It feels as if I’ve exploded and someone dived inside my skin.

  He speaks in low measured tones. “You were born here through a surrogate yet lived during the great battle before the cleansing. You were not killed as they could not catch you because of your speed. At the time of your cleansing and severing of DNA, Jan and Robert Mitchell were conceiving.”

  “But why them?”

  “A benevolent protective yoke. Their love would keep you safe.”

  Tanz breaks
the connection. “There is nothing I don’t already know.” He looks at the rashes and holes in my skin. “Let me find you some iron crystals,” he says walking into another room then returning with a container.

  “These will balance out your vibrational energy and undo the cleansing. You will heal in time and align. That inner being you sense will develop and come to fruition.”

  He looks at the wall and the blue numbers updating. “Thermostatic pressure has shifted. You must leave.” He peeks out the window. “It is not safe now.” He pulls me up and hurries me to the door.

  “They are gathering and will soon strike, tracking our markers.”

  I brush his hand off. “Are they stronger than us?”

  “The dark forces are ubiquitous but individually weak. Their energy disperses when truth is revealed or the light of one’s true self shines upon them.”

  I cross my arms. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened to my parents. My Earth parents.”

  Annoyed, he lets out a heavy sigh. “They are not relevant.”

  “They’re relevant to me. They’re my parents.”

  Tanz brings up the image of shadows closing in around the car then wipes it away. “They were murdered to get to you. After the seventeenth revolution around Earth’s sun they can attack the surrogate family directly if previously unsuccessful in eliminating its offspring. There are laws even the dark light cannot defy.”

  “They killed them just like that?” I sit down on a nearby chair and look up with tears dropping from my eyes. “Because of me?”

  “Mourning is acceptable, a cleansing of sorts.”

  After wiping my eyes and sniffling I say, “There’s no time for mourning. They’re here and we must stop them. My parents were good people.”

  “If we do not act soon there won’t be any good people left. Their minds will be altered and their memories twisted into anger, pain, and darkness as the Toxic Whisperers corrupt and disconnect them from their higher selves.”

  “Like how I felt outside?”

  He nods. “Violence and destruction will consume them. Their demeanor will be altered indelibly, and this planet will be condemned by the higher ranks so not to infect the universe.”