The Encounter

Call it horror or fantasy, reflection or insanity, it is what it is...

Wisps of incense smoke consume the room where John and Lily rest. Their elbows resting on pillows, they smile softly as their tarot cards face the Fool, the Magician, the Priestess and the Hanged Man. They laugh as the light on their gems of tourmaline, amethyst, bloodstone and turquoise flickers through bouts of smoke. They read their spell books and look into the glass, fully aware that all the things they see are merely a stagnant reflection. In the morning they'll practice tai chi and sing in their Zen garden, as their laws of philosophy have been accepted through the sciences, their wisdom cherished throughout the cultures and ages. For the moment there is peace.

 

Little do they care that their next card, drawn from the Osho Zen tarot, is completely blank. A solitary figure forms on the card, shining in the void. At this the breeze from outside raps on their door, their dog barks and their cats hiss, all with fur standing at end.

 

"What's gotten into you," the lovers try to soothe. But the breeze turns into gusts of wind, and they will not stop their cries of warning. The lovers try to stay calm, gazing around and at each other. John grabs a blunt object from the corner where Lily's paints line the easels, and prepares to swing at any intruders. The glass door from their room to the backyard shatters, and all that can be heard is the sound of glass breaking. From the other side an androgynous being in long white robes floats, with long strands of white hair flowing, and gentle but serious eyes gazing back at the awestricken lovers. John drops the object in his hands and replaces it with Lily's hands, their knuckles white with the struggle against fear.

 

The floating figure opens lips that would rival sunrises and sunsets with their beauty and says with vibrant vibrato, "Who are you to seek so desperately the eternal power? Who are you to temper with the forces of the gods?"

 

"...Who are you," John replies. "Are you dead? Are you a ghost or an angel?"

 

"I am this and nothing more," the figure says with licks of flame and sparks of lightning emanating from its body.

 

"...You are a magician, then? What is your name?"

 

"I am called by whatever name you wish to give me."

 

John and Lily can't understand the presence they are witnessing. Lily, suddenly enraged by the intrusion, exclaims, "Who are you to demand such questions of us?"

 

"That is my point," the vision calmly replies. "You do not care for the wisdom in wisdom, and wield it foolishly, as if you were a couple of newly enlisted peasants trying to pull Excalibur moments before battle. You have potential, but not the experience, nor the strength, and niether patience nor foresight."

 

John spits, "And you do?"

 

"I was much like you once," the specter answered. "I was human, and therefore incorruptibly stupid. You told me to converse with a magician, and through him I channeled my energy to such a dimension that infinity would not contain it all. I remained there as I died, first in mind and mannerisms, and then body. Call me 'dead' if you wish; to me you are equally dead, for a pulse does not measure the essence of a soul."

 

The lovers glanced at each other, now knowing that this vision is their friend Nat, the pestering and sweet friend who could never intentionally harm them, but had often done so in the past regardless. They look back at the specter, the definitions of her figure slowly twisting and turning to their life-like state.

 

"I dim my light that you may see," Nat says, "for the first moment you felt my presence was not bright enough for me."

 

Lily starts to run toward Nat's figure to give a warm hug, but falls face-first in the attempt. She starts to choke on her tears. John catches her moments before impact, and Nat's eyes seem to lower with a soft, sad expression. "You would not understand the ways of embracing a light this brilliant," she sighs.

 

"Come back to us," Lily yells. "Come back to us and live!"

 

"I could," Nat replies as her face turns away, "but there are always consequences. I cannot return to my buried corpse, for I would repulse you with the maggots and worms, the lack of flesh and the other atrocities that death entails. So I would have to choose a new form. Either I must possess someone living or I must fight the seed and possess a newborn. In any case, you would not recognize me, regardless of your insisting assurances."

 

"We insist because we're right," John stammers, tears forming in his eyes.

 

Nat laughs bitterly as she turns her face to the sky. "How would you know," she scoffs. "You look to the answers of your heart alone; I look to all answers, and I choose what must be done."

 

The lovers reach for her, but her form shifts, fire and lightning pulsing from her body.  The two can only retreat to avoid the burns. From the light emerges a giant animal with the body of a phoenix and the head and tail of a dragon.

 

"This is the form of the Draenix," its thick, masculine voice exclaims. Its accent is rich; with the tones so low it is a wonder that Nat could be this creature. "Only when you can love me as much as you love the Phoenix and despise the Dragon... only when you can accept the Phoegon and my infinity of infinite forms will I consider your request." The Draenix flaps its wings into the sky, and vanishes from sight.

 

As morning approaches, Lily and John open their eyes to a similar scene: she is on the floor with her face red, one foot beneath the carpet, and he stands by the backyard door with mangled hair. Both are in tears. Between them is a blunt object and shattered glass from the door frame. The dog is still barking, the cats are still hissing with their backs arched and hairs at end, when Lily's mother and younger brother run into the room.

 

"What happened," they ask, and after surveying the scene before them, all any of them can mutter before hours of ranting shouts and misfortunes is, "Oh, my god..."

 

 

 

Author's Note

The only argument I find in writing this story is that Nat's logic is flawed by telling the lovers to accept her for who she is, because she would naturally accept them for who they are. Hence, it is not a flaw because it is still just a story, and not a factual event.

Reviews

[I.N.Kelly]

Very interesting work. I enjoyed it. Thank you for sharing.
Best wishes
Kelly