No thing could strip my mind from it. The humming of that wretched piece of metal. Oh yes, it shouted unsolvable mysteries of origin into my pride, crying out to be known, yet ever eluding me. The noise and bluster of it haunted even my dreams. And I couldn’t be rid of its voice. Nope, because I was trapped by it. It, this thing I couldn’t trace the symbol of, no matter how many times I looked in any text or on any website, even the dark web. There was no historicity, no proof it existed aside from what game my mind played on me when I gazed upon it or tried to let my mind rest. Do you even exist? Am I just your puppet?
But more than that, the call of that man possessing that voice, the one which made my pitter pattering heart jump, swarming my mind and flooding my blood with coursing fear, still shook me. It called me from my complacent life, from my comfort, and into what felt as fated rivalry. If not rivalry, then curiosity in its purest of forms.
And that page…
Maybe the page is for another day, for what has been inscribed upon it changes all. I’m not sure it’s yet time for its words to be spoken. Or if I could tell of it accurately. My understanding of it still isn’t so full as empty. I tried to write it down, I did. But every time I’d freeze, some invisible chain pulled taut to keep my hand from staining the page with ink. My restless hand has failed many times to write about. So, no, not yet.
Ah, then the Flickering it is.
The Flickering is my personal jargon for whatever it is that happens when reality warps and I’m sent through the gate to endless realms.
Two days after I found that story on my porch. Lets start there.
It was coffee time by my watch. Just to be clear, I don’t wear a watch, I’m not that kind of guy, but my tongue yearned for the earthy delight of roasted beans. I had a professor once, who used to say, “coffee is the water which flows in the river of life”.
Yeah, it must be.
My determined hand reached for one of my canes–my favorite one, the one with the spiraling wood of dark and light colors, crested with intricate engraving of the fierce and majestic lion. Its mane swirled down into the dark and light woods, lacing them with swirls of its own–and off to feed my hungry soul I went.
I strode–well my stride may be more of a hobble, but it was a mighty hobble for someone with a cane. So I hobbled mightily toward the closest coffee shop to my house at that time. There was one just across the street in Lynchburg VA on Greenview Dr.
Bean Tree, a wonderful place french pressing every cup.
I’ll skip standing in line and get to the important part. With my cup in one hand, and cane in the other, I stepped toward the glass portal leading to the cold realm of the outdoors–urban outdoors, the mountains only appeared in the background.
As I pushed the door open, the Flickering intervened. Dark sky blinked to being in flakes overhead. The ground shook and boiled and popped, jumping and bursting into deadened grass lining carved marble-esk walkway. But the golden and brown and grey grass didn’t keep my eyes. Not even the purple sky with sea foam colored sun kept them. No, they were drawn to it. The symbol.
My cane dropped from my grip and bounced off of the path, echoing slightly. My coffee fell from my grasp in nearly slow motion fashion, spilling onto the ground, emptying the cup. Something I’d later curse myself for–I hadn’t even taken a sip yet!
That same symbol I deemed insignia foreign to me was no longer that. It was no longer a strange and unique medallion of the unknown. At least it was less unknown, I still didn’t know anything about it except that it was here. It existed, and was sculpted into the archway that was this dark entrance to abandoned stone building–more of a temple. The sole spire in the middle was high, the layers of floors reached to varying widths, the speckled grey and tan stone mingled with black. Two large statues guarded the entrance. This symmetrical structure seemed as if all things came from that opening and went on back for who knows how long. It was as if it were pulling me to it, drawing me into itself. Yet as I took my step, it all vanished. Thus, I was left in our world with only more that immense curiosity. How does this all fit?
Consider me beckoned, Destiny, for I am coming. I will find you.
Then I looked down.
I crouched to grab my cane, but more importantly my empty coffee cup. There was no spilled coffee. It stayed in the other place, the purple world, the world where a sea foam colored sun was the gem of the sky, a place ruled by that temple. Sure, I mourned my lost coffee, but something else was blowing on my neck, making the hair stand on end. Something else–nagging realization–made me wonder.
I left it there. Could I also take? Would I or should I take? Curiosity raged as I considered where to find the hole between the worlds. Could I go back? Could I control it?