Chapter 10
The 5th of June was a perfectly normal early Saturday morning, considering. Our household had been invited to uncle’s for the weekend and weren’t due back till Monday morning. I declined to join them. The reason? Work. Ian had graciously left me to my own devices on Friday, near twelve midnight after a few choice words concerning misbehaviour – saying the wizard was watching. He saw fit to return a minute later to leave a rude story, insisting on calling it a parable. I made him well aware I wasn’t interested in hearing it if it involved bodily functions. It turned out to be exactly that, concerning some silly teenagers who’d forgotten a change of trousers on a terrifying journey through a deep, dark wood. I had little choice than to listen and feign interest.
“Oh, sorry Sam, you’re looking a little disappointed, have you heard it already? I believe you can sympathise with these young gentlemen can’t you? Having a bad habit of pooing oneself at the first hint of trouble is hardly going to further your precious, pointless career any is it? Here endeth the lesson,” Ian said, letting out self satisfied sighs of utter contentment. “Now, wait one minute while I lean my precious head on your useless desk for a bit. Sam, please count to five with me whilst I do so, it’s very important.”
“I will do no such thing. ‘tis childish and unnecessary.”
“You must, you must, it’s essential for the piece.” Wood knocked a weird tune, a passing mention of ‘Spoilsport,’ followed, then peals of infectious laughter rang out.
Cascades of paper balls and my prized pencil collection shot out the desk, ending up against the far wall amidst showers of beautiful sparks. To be fair it looked rather good, but I wasn’t going to admit it.
“Just as I thought Ian, all totally unnecessary.”
Coming from the cleverest being on the planet, he sure could be boring I whispered.
“Heard that!” he hissed accusingly, before finally leaving. I waited for his inevitable return and the usual pretence of forgetting something when my wardrobe doors rattled annoyingly. That was one of the few constants concerning his behaviour; the irrational need to do things in threes. We are told even today events both good and bad always seem to appear in sets of threes. I don’t necessarily agree with this conjecture myself, but Ian did, weirdly arguing it was him who came up with the idea in the first place years before he was even born!
This time was different though, and Ian didn’t return. Instead I promptly fell fast asleep, or thought I did. ‘twas an unnatural sleep beset with queer randomness, uncontrollable visions, and disturbing scenes of death and destruction. This negativity faded when I thought of what Ian may have made of such an uncanny experience.
Then I flitted back to familiar territory through ancient woods to the local rock pool I’d seen many times in waking. Her solid granite face loomed vast and ancient. Off to the left peaty ground fell away suddenly, leaving a wide decaying void, devoid of life and sunshine. For hundreds of years the other side had been left to nature, wild and untamed, a feeling travelling the full length of the forest.
Behind me a gentle waterfall of lightly hued spray fell off the tip of a steep ledge, fed from luscious green meadows high above. Just out of reach of the beautiful mist below lay a long, rectangular rock, six feet in length, flattened out somewhat and dripping with thick, green fungus. Each edge boasted a single round impression in the rock to a depth of two inches. Although the slab looked wet and squishy from a distance, closer up I convinced myself it was supremely comfortable, dry and inviting. What harm could come of it? The notion became clearer the more I thought it through. I’d never done this before and never heard of anyone falling asleep inside a dream.
I pondered a while longer, becoming increasingly more attracted to the idea. After far too much needless dawdling, I finally gave in to the intensely soothing sensation, so keenly feeling the desire to lay down to relax. Indeed respite was necessary from previous troubles for a short while. The rest of this vision could wait. There was no rush. As soon as I laid my head on the emerald bed, finest eiderdown pressed soothingly around my body, moulding perfectly around the skin. Soft silky sheets shrouded me, gliding smoothly and silently from their beds below.
Sweet, narcotic perfume hung heavy in the atmosphere, assuaging higher reasoning, and there I lay, cocooned in a heavenly sentiment of complete safety and divine protection. Soon I imagined I was floating above them, yet part of them. Warmest, calmest sensations ever conceived rose softly from my toes up to my crown. When they glided upwards each portion caressed became supremely relaxed, till it finally reached my eyes.
I faintly recall my eyelids being pulled together in concert with such tender care, and delicate sensations of falling without fear. My dream world fell away in slow motion, dissolving inwards. Colours, sensations and sounds broke up, everything moved towards a calm, tranquil oneness, a greyish, inky blackness, ultimately reaching complete unbroken stillness.
I awoke truly believing I was safe at home at the start of another ordinary day. Through the thick darkness a pin prick of light flashed momentarily, then blinked out. Another appeared in exactly the same spot. It didn’t warrant further examination as I was still very tired. Now a third flashed. I tried sitting upright to explore the mystery, but was unable to move. Where was I? What was that appalling smell? What the hell was going on? I became dizzy, confused, sweaty, nauseous and extremely anxious. I swore copiously before trying to calm down and think.
What remained of my vision remained blinkered and dulled. I blinked continuously many times, thinking much as a piece of metal may short an electrical circuit, so may we escape an unwanted nightmare. Alas I didn’t wake, but my vision did slowly clear and started to get used to the brightening light now hovering silently above.
I was lying on a large slab of rock, though it appeared my physical body wasn’t in contact with it. All I could make out were two long, thin tubular shapes, one at either side of my head, and two at the foot of the rock, fading in and out of focus through swirling mist. Candles! Once, when I focused for a painfully long period I ventured beyond their straight lines, finding cold hard stone reflecting back. Why had the situation changed so drastically? I had no control here. I tried to move again, nothing. This was useless. There was something dreadfully wrong, but I knew not what.
I needed to take in my surroundings more if only for sanities sake, yet still couldn’t move. I was hopelessly trapped in some sort of cave. In a terrifying instant my mind went numb. For how long I cannot say. A strong sense of melancholia swept over. I started to remember. I remembered fragments, small details. I tried to picture in my mind the sequence of events leading up to this dreadful situation, yet could not. The only thing left was meditation, so this I did.
For hours, days or years I toiled, till at long last I recalled a most singular lesson learned on earth. There was no such thing as time. Time itself, past present and future was but an illusion, so all were one, and so I continued long on this concept till the light grew dimmer and memories brighter. My invisible shackles loosened somewhat.
I remembered friends, acquaintances, good and bad, delightful walks in the countryside with family - mud, snow, sunshine, laughter, tears. A few black spots grew here and there, memories and situations that were jumpy and jerky, less detailed, like the grainy black and white pictures of the cinema, or the hollow recollections of a bad dream as they fade with the morning light.
It was with some relief it dawned these darker collections seemed to consist of only bad memories. I believed they had been marked as such from when they first came into being and were eventually going to be erased altogether.
I thought back carefully over my life, still unable to restore any form of chronological order. Stark significance and blind fun seemed inexplicably intertwined. One bright memory kept recurring. I remembered my one and only dog, Elsie. Twenty years old when she passed. Could never bear to find another. I fondly remembered her wet, investigating nose hunting out forbidden snacks
in the kitchen. With great delight I recalled her fake expressions of guilt as she tried desperately to change the subject when her villainous treachery was discovered.
I pictured us out walking together, how reaching a certain point in the woods she’d always race down the steep slope heading to the stream near the graceful waterfall. For five minutes she’d bark crazily, following unspoken commands from invisible creatures. There she returned to her childhood, blissfully playing with unseen friends. Magnetic qualities in the rocks and odorous plants that had curious effects on the canine brain were some of the theories put forward to explain this behaviour. An elderly doctor of note, then in his late nineties was the only one brave or eccentric enough to venture another possibility. I pictured his round, ruddy face, youthful, sparkling eyes and his playful grin.
“You be careful up there young man. Those water sprites can be a little mischievous at times. I should know, I visited them a long time ago, when I were young. Cheeky little buggers! It’s not always them thats the trouble either, it’s the darker creatures their singing attracts. Any farmer worth his salt ul tell yu it ain’t just foxes that’s attracted to rabbits squeals. Careful lad, you may go up there one day and never come back!”
That must have been it! Elsie could interact with them safely whilst awake, but I’d entered their domain in spirit form, giving them far more control. The mischievous creatures were probably making fun of me for their own amusement. How long they intended to keep me I had no way of knowing. My future wasn’t on such a forsaken plane, so I’d have to escape. My bonds loosened a little more.
How the idea first occurred, how it came into being I cannot say, but it refused to be quieted. Facts flooded forth. Distinct recollections of youth and my entire life as an adult were becoming more intense, moving as vivid images in unison with the light above as it grew brighter and brighter. Everything I’d ever done, said, dreamt, everything I was ever going to do down to the tiniest detail. ‘twas uncannily as if my life itself had already taken place; I had already lived it and this was my final judgement. But this could not be - I was only twenty years old. Ian had foretold when I would pass from this world. Nevertheless, it appeared in this unknown place usual rules did not apply.
This startling revelation accepted, a spectacular streak of argon electricity blazed downwards, barely missing my head, accompanied by unnerving, rasping cackles. Bright light flickered then faded, leaving the cave lit dimly with an odd red glow exuding from the walls. Four candles burst into life, adding a flickering orange glow to the tightly wound cavern. Instantly the ties that bound were severed.
Then I knew what was wrong. My body sparkled weirdly and seemed vaguely out of focus. I made to pick up a candle and watched my hand pass straight through. This didn’t bode well, but at least my spirit was free. It was utterly ridiculous at first. Trying to walk in this state was completely impossible. Finally I reasoned movement could only be achieved via the spirit. I had to learn to plan three moves well in advance.
Oh the terror as I attempted my first simple movement forward. Oh the fear as I pictured my head crashing relentlessly into rock. Oh the joy as I finally abandoned all efforts at decorum, allowing myself to drift aimlessly, at peace at last. Oh the relief, the overwhelming, indescribable bliss realising, yes it was possible to dive through rock without sustaining injury. No limits were apparent, yet.
As delightful as this child’s play was I vividly recalled the reasons why this behaviour was possible. Acrobatics aside, there really was only one way out and that was forward.
The shape I had taken for a reflective piece of shiny rock earlier was revealed as a metallic plaque inset into the surface, bearing words passing for Latin. My translation was a weak: ‘Bye ye wisdome shalle ye knowe me.’ One to mull over later, escape being the priority just then.
Penetration further than a few metres into rock proved impossible. Despite coming across interesting fossils sealed up in the core, movement seemed to be using up precious energy. Finally I plunged forward through the plaque.
A brief moment of ecstasy overtook me. Flickering red, yellow and orange vapour swirled everywhere. Shapes vaguely familiar and others not of this world slipped closer and closer, all still amidst a twisting, turning, snaking mass. Six that morphed were highlighted brighter, watching, trying to figure out who or what I was, what my next move may be and whether I be classed a threat. One bolder fellow flew up to the bridge of my nose, staying a while. His tail fizzed intensely with arcing jolts of energy like trying to burn my features into his memory. The scout returned to its group when all commenced their unnerving behaviour just as before.
Then the scene lit up in blinding violent flashes. In a fraction of a second the world transformed into one only a little more familiar. So, was I free? Oh? And what was this? A small, stout man, generous of figure sat waiting on a log only a short hop away. He looked like a garden gnome, though I’d swear he wore a mask. In the background lay a small white path leading onwards towards a rolling green hillside. Deciding he was merely another non sequential image imprinted randomly in a fantastical dream, I tried floating past when he said with an air of authority.
“Took your time didn’t you.”
“Who are you Sir?”
“Tsk, they’re getting younger and younger,” he remarked to himself.
“Well what are you then?”
“First things first lad. I operate strictly on a need to know basis and you don’t need to know,” he replied slowly, eye balling me with playful authority. After allowing me to process this fact he followed with, “I’m here to make sure the wrong folk don’t get past.”
“Wrong folk?”
“That’s right, your floppy ears didn’t deceive you, they heard me quite correctly the first time,” he answered bluntly, barely concealing a wry smile.
“Yes.”
“Then why did you feel the need to ask twice?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Do too,” he said, furrowing his brow. His bushy eyebrows moved skywards, and he delighted in taking more interest in what I perceived to be an increasingly odd conversation.
“Er, right. What, where is this place?”
“You don’t know!?”
“Alright. I admit it. I don’t know what I’m doing here, nor what if anything I’m supposed to be doing.”
“You’re looking for something,” he prompted, rolling his eyeballs.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Er, like what exactly?” At this point he stood up, gazing deep into my eyes. Before I had the chance to react the cheeky little creature brushed his grubby finger lightly in the middle of my forehead saying, “I can tell this hasn’t been thought through properly.” Then without a word of apology for such rudeness said, “Something very important to you. An article that was taken from you against your wishes. An item that was dear to your heart, that will leave you unfulfilled until it’s safely back in your custody. Feel free to jump in at any time or we’ll be here all day.”
“Oh, yes, I remember now, you are quite correct.” I said, pretending to understand the situation, “How did you know?”
“Aren’t they all,” he said, reverting back to a bored drawl.
Then before I could quiz him further a faded recollection brought with it the raging flood of many dreams past.
“I know you don’t I? Sorry, I don’t know you of course,” I blustered, “I mean I’ve seen you somewhere before. Yes...you were burying something.”
“Hardly,” he replied firmly to the former, looking far across the landscape.
“I think not,” was his firmer response to the latter, shaking his head from side to side.
“Sorry,” I said, realising how fortunate I’d been thus far. Things weren’t quite as simple as I’d imagined they may be safe in my bed chamber. Luck, I recognised by past experience was something that rarely came in pairs. Best not push it too vigorously, lest it sprung back.
> “Go on then. Far be it from me to keep you,” he said, waving me past dismissively. With that he plonked back down heavily, picked up a silver chalice, whet his lips, then froze instantly, stone cold and lifeless. Some watchman that I figured.
I floated off following a tiny greying path of stone over the hill. Stretching up to the purple horizon wobbled a hundred crimson suns, burning brightly with welcoming flames. Further still sat a thousand crescent moons pulsing and dancing rhythmically, lighting the background with a peculiar colours. On either side of the path grew strangely bendy trees, swaying and pulsing in an invisible breeze. I boldly struck out between them, wondering what lay hidden within.
Not a soul was in sight to break the dull monotony. Soon I realised the same trees were repeated over shorter intervals. Scenery looked real enough, yet there was no moisture to be found in the ground, no difference in foliage colour and no new growth visible either. Eventually I found myself on the opposite side of the path at exactly the same place, leaving no choice than to continue onwards.
In order to effect an escape from this weird place I’d have to put a great deal more thought in. So I floated onwards up the white path far over the hills beyond, till under the gaze of a crimson sun I chanced upon a hefty ornate door beset with marvellous tales from other worlds.
I was stuck, marooned in a vague, empty nothingness, therefore I grasped at the solid handle, revealing a deep blankness stretching off into infinity. Without warning a whirling mass burst forth. Millions of tiny particles of blue energy built over billions of lifetimes swirled round at dizzying speed. Their mesmeric droning granted a sense of peace and tranquillity, like the far off rushing of waters experienced when pressing a seaside shell to ones ear.
Swirls of energy bulged out from deeper within, sucking me inside with tremendous force. In a blinding flash I materialized at one end of a grand ballroom, drifting inches from the marbled floor. Instantly a solid impenetrable wall hung with grand ornaments shot up behind.
In front highly detailed tapestries and intricate golden carvings were woven seamlessly into towering walls depicting rolling vistas, abstract thought forms, complex shapes and philosophies, transcending earthly expression and life itself. Off to the left lay a long bar, and behind that lay a pure white background decorated lavishly with extremely detailed golden intertwined scenes of gods, grandly sitting in judgement at unknown places. A silver inscription bore the Latin: ‘Council Of The God’s.’
On the bar top glasses and tankards were strewn around randomly. Some lay transparent, empty and lifeless, others seemed solid and full. Behind them sat a weighty, unwieldy till. The dusty drawer sprung open displaying a solitary new penny dated July the twenty fourth 1920. Mmm, the date wasn’t too far off. Suspended above hung a miniature grandfathers clock and barometer, presenting the information ‘three thirty three’ and ‘chance of showers.’ Temperature fluctuated wildly between five and fifteen degrees. What the blazes was this place?
Glancing down the oaken topped bar I noticed patrons mechanically draining glasses of green liquid over and over. It was impossible to say what the gooey mess was. From their weird expressions I fancied it a psychological hit in the form of information. Separate from the overly eager barflies, hundreds of spectral forms moved to and fro across the imposing marble floor. Some even walked up and down walls and along the ceiling. Great numbers scurried round frantically, keeping tightly to walls like mice searching for a meal.
Two swarthy looking Egyptian types faded into view behind the bar, dropping to their knees furtively. One produced a sharpened fragment of yellow sandstone and with exaggerated diligence marked a series of capital L’s on the floor beneath the till in straight lines of six. Every second L was inverted and its horizontal line placed above the first. The second phantom acted as a lookout, constantly checking over his shoulder anxiously, fearing discovery at any second.
When six vertical lines were completed, both stood bolt upright. Each clasped a glittering, jewelled scarab necklace which lit up brightly, and the nearest one chanted a repeating chorus. The symbolic configuration on the floor trembled and the area shook in unison. Hazy waves of energy burst from the outer walls, racing ever inwards. A tight circle of blue smoke materialized on the floor as the repeating letters rearranged themselves into series of three. It seemed the characters crude designs were met with a positive answer and both ragged characters launched themselves into the decreasing ring which disappeared instantly.
I was the only spirit to show any interest in the curious spectacle and other spectral forms merely stood staring at a fixed point, confused and alone. Officious types stood off to the sides, walking along walls at odd angles, huddled in strange little cliques, engaged in lively debates.
The strange door I’d come through reappeared with a clashing boom, changing size, direction and angle randomly. A lively guide bravely weaved a path through the ethereal mist ever onwards towards the twisting portal, followed closely by his faithful troop.
At the far end of the ballroom one patron rose above the crowd. This bruiser sported the hair of a badger mating with a filthy cleaners mop, and wore pock marked clothes to match. Despite the room’s activity his gaze was always slyly fixed on me, which became terribly unnerving. The urge to flee became overwhelming when the tall stranger materialized directly in front of me, blocking any path. His last position remained highlighted for a second before fading away.
“Might ‘av known. I figured ya woz different than t’ other folk, up t’ no good. Made the wrong move there, didn’t ya son? Who sent ya?” he shot accusingly.
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out my good man,” I answered loudly with utmost confidence. Fortunately it was true - I was unlike other folk - They were dead. This could only work in my favour. I had nothing to fear from his sort here. I’d only just finished forming a mocking smile of triumph when the brute pinned me half way up the back wall. My handkerchief, a stubby pencil and small notepad fell uselessly to the floor.
“Said who sent ya?” he thundered. “Better own up smartish lad. So ‘elp me, I’ll throw ya back down there!” His preposterously thick finger pointed through the floor.
“The... man outside the cave,” I cried desperately.
This old savage’s brain seemed to be evolving at last. Perhaps he may develop opposable thumbs given long enough. His choke hold eased up, then came the deafening bawl of, “Doctor Solomun!” The good doctor appeared instantaneously. It was the weird gnome from the road. Why the devil can’t I do that I thought enviously.
“Let the boy down Gustav,” he said softly, seeming annoyed at being woken prematurely.
“’aven’t been ‘ere for fowsand cycles just to let folk run round as they pleases. Gots me orders, me stripes to think ‘bout.”
“We’ve talked about this before. Those stripes aren’t a badge of honour. They were given to you for a reason. This is just one of them,” he stated kindly, like a gentle family physician might to a very young child.
“Sez ya let him in,” the mountain quaked unsurely. “Ya vaatch for ‘im do ya?” he said even slower, clutching his swollen forehead. Solomun edged forward carefully.
“Yes, I vouch for him,” he said, slipping closer still.
“Gustav, let me tell you a story. Listen up, you won’t have heard it before. When your earliest ancestors first came to earth I was there. When Phoenicians first discovered the Canaan lands, I was there. When Romans conquered the ancient Britons, I was there. And when Mr Bell invented the electric telephone, I was there.”
“What woz ya doing there doc?” he said, moving his great head inquisitively.
“Well, pull up a seat old man, I’ll tell you all about it. May as well now that I’m up,” he sighed. The way his hands shook it must have took all of the great oaf’s concentration just to keep me held aloft. This was my chance to break free! Like a caged tiger I sprinted for the moving door. As fate would have it, it disappeared at the la
st second. Sheer momentum propelled me through a curtained off area, straight into a group of participants huddled round a makeshift Ouija board. This secretive place was lit with eerie ancient lanterns, set with suspicious smells and decked with occult symbolism. I’d disturbed an impromptu séance, here of all places!
All spiritualists threw their arms up in shock as I burst straight through the table, scattering precious contents far and wide. An elderly fellow quickly gathered his wits, made a series of symbolic gestures cutting the misty atmosphere, whilst others frantically made the sign of the cross, muttering anxiously with heads bowed. I found myself swept backwards by an invisible wind. Back and through the twisting exit door like a wild gust of wind.
Sir Ian Peters Page 10