27 July 2012
Quietly, I bolt the rusted lock on the upstairs door, trying not to make a sound. I then take a black pen off the shelf and trace the fading pentagram on my left hand. This is how I leave my body, how my soul walks on its own and how I cast my spells. Slowly, I reach out towards the rack and slip the keys off their hook. Walking towards the door, I hold the keys as still as I can, to stop them from clinking together. Slowly and silently, I slide the latch off the glass door, turn the handle and drag it open. Stepping slowly outside, I close and lock it behind me.
Once I'm outside, I sit down on the old wooden bench, draped in cobwebs, and place the keys down next to me. I take a deep breath and then thank my mind for its powers, for I can smell everything around me with my enhanced senses. Channelling my energies, I begin to identify the smells, I can smell warm sugar, shortbread, tea, sharp salt, mud, flowers, morning dew and the sea- the sea smells of waves and salt and rocks, I can smell the texture of the water and start to lose myself in the sensation. I then begin to smell a graveyard, very specifically, the one where my sister was buried, it smells of metal, flowers, rich mud and London mornings, which have their very own specific scent. I jolt myself out of it and take another deep breath. I smell vanilla and pastries, and the scent of overgrown grass, which has a darker and richer smell than that of freshly cut, and the wind, the wind smells of all the scents of the world and all the blue of the sky mixed together. I feel as though I am breathing clouds. I carry on, senseless and unresponsive to the world around me, the way I like best- in the frame of mind between sleep and awakening, my heart now filled with clouds. Lifting my bare feet from the ground, I lie down on the bench, my face softly brushing cobwebs as I fall on my back. Slowly, I let my mind drift, until I can no longer feel them on my face. When I finally open my eyes, all I can see is a thick silver web, and I reach out to brush it off, but my hand passes straight through it, as though I am just air.
Just air, I think to myself, just a wisp of air. I feel detached and dreamlike as I make my way to my feet, leaving my body behind on the bench. As though my legs are not my own, I begin to walk, walk away from the bench and towards the sea, as if in a trance. The waves brush my heels as I walk across the glassy surface. After a while, I kneel down, cup my hands and fill them with water. It tastes of sweet, pure salt, and gives me a sharp rush, as though I'm wearing nettles. I stand up, again, and continue walking off towards the horizon.
I’m walking on light, now, a warm amber glow spilling out over the sky and cascading down on me like a waterfall. My head is numb and my body is unresponsive as I’m showered in sunrays, but, somehow, I can’t stop walking. A hand brushes against my face and I reach out to touch it- it is the hand of a child, no older than 6. Another hand reaches out, and then another- I am being touched by the spirits of children from the past; they look confused and lost and have wide, transparent eyes that stare into my soul, as though my heart is an open book. They’re clutching at me now and tugging me towards them, as if I can somehow bring them back to life. Slowly, their eyes grow wider and they start to shriek, a loud, unearthly sound that pierces my soul in a way that nothing else has ever done before. They’re dragging me down now, down towards the darkness, driven by grief and bewilderment- they are lost and ache for life again, but I can do nothing to help them. I know I should try to console them, but something is urging me to leave, I softly touch the pentagram on my left hand and my heart fills with clouds again, the clutching hands of the lost souls falling away. My vision is blurred by a white light and I can begin to taste salt water.
As soon as it had come, it was gone. The sea is far behind me now, miles and miles away, and I am lying down in an open courtyard on the top of a tall hill, cherry blossoms falling gently on my face. There is a ring of trees around me and a gentle waterfall, painted a crystal pink by the rising sun, at the north end of the courtyard. Slowly and carefully, I pull myself up and rise to my feet. After a while of gathering my senses, I walk over to the edge of the waterfall and gingerly peer over the edge. Miles below, I can make out vast cities, tall glass buildings, and a million bright lights. Suddenly, something happens; the sun hits a line on the horizon, parallel to that of the mountain I am standing on, and a brilliant shaft of sunlight reflects off the surface of the waterfall. Then, as the light hits the top of the water, it splits, spills out, and extends at an angle to form a bridge leading to the city below. Without hesitation, I take a step onto the shaft, it feels solid and so I take another step, and another. I’m halfway across the bridge now, when the sun shifts again- I feel myself rising, the bridge slowly moving, and ascending into the sky. I don’t like this, something feels wrong, I can no longer see the city below me, or even the sun anymore, only a pure blue expanse covering me like a blanket. Quickly, I reach out to touch the pentagram on my left hand, but nothing happens, there’s no white light and no salt water. I begin to panic, and, then, I begin to fall....
I’m falling at a rapid speed, the wind rushing past my face and a blur of colours spinning all around me. I can see a panel of light below me, and I land on it, face upwards. Slowly, the world around me begins to fade away and I close my eyes. I lie there for what feels like hours, my eyes closed, a bed of light beneath me, when a sharp jolt smarts me awake. All I can see is a thick, silver cobweb. Reaching out my left hand to brush it away, I notice that the pentagram is missing. When I sit up, I am back in my garden, again, sitting on a bench in the biting wind. My right hand reaches out and takes hold of the keys. When I reach the back door, I turn the key in the lock and push the glass door open. I look at the clock and see it says 4:03am. I have only been gone for three minutes. But, then I look at the calendar, 03/7/12, I have been gone for three days, three days and three minutes. My soul had been wandering for three whole days, my body left, draped in cobwebs, sitting on a cold bench the whole time. I make my way to the kettle and fill it to the brim with tap water, grab a soup bowl and shovel spoonful after spoonful of coffee into its base. Then, I pour about a cup of sugar into it and empty half a carton of milk. Once I’ve added the water, I put in all the spices, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg and Chinese 5 Spice, they give the coffee a dark tint. After everything’s been mixed in, I return the keys to their hook, sit down on the couch, switch on the television and drink a whole bowl of coffee. I still don’t feel alive, so I grab a pad of paper and a pencil and begin to sketch what I’d seen, the lost souls, the glass sea, the waterfall of light and the pentagram. After about two hours of drawing, I unbolt the upstairs door and crawl back into my dark coffin, where I sleep for a thousand years, healing my soul and putting my mind at rest. For I am the Soul Walker and I have seen things you can barely imagine, I have walked all the corners of the earth and crossed all the seven seas, without ever venturing beyond my own garden. That is the power of true magyck and the power of the Pentagram.
Soul Walker • Opuss № I