The First Journey

Travels of an Interdimensional Drifter

The First Journey

I do not know how I got there, neither do I know the woman who materialized before me as my senses labored to absorb the surroundings. In this realm she was fair of face, golden of hair. A young lady around her mid-twenties of age; or, at least, that is how she appeared to be. There was tenderness there, but there was something else: Weariness, rather bordering on haggardness perhaps; like a veteran who has fought a fair share of battles in this war we call life. That is perhaps, now that I recall the circumstances with calm calculation, what may have betrayed her true age.

"We must escape this place, my children and I", she said in a voice that I failed to hear, yet, astoundingly, I comprehended each and every utterance, as if the words were instantaneously imprinted into my brain. I responded by uttering a soundless consent. Words were spoken, and my lips did move in a manner of speech, of that one can be sure. What the words were; well, that is another story, for all speech in this realm appeared to be comprehensible, but mute, as if spoken in the infinite void of space.

I looked down after the expeditious exchange to four souls standing at her side. She claimed they were her children, but a passing thought, or flash of intuition mayhap, dispelled the claim, further even doubting whether they were children at all. Still, amicable fellows they were, with not a shred of malintent among them. It was after this cursory glance, in which some manner of greeting was exchanged, that the trip began in earnest. To the sea we shall go. How I knew we are going to the sea, I truly do not know, but my mind was drawn to the thought of heading to the saline surf like an ant to sugar, as if the words had once again materialized in my mind, and it was to there where our journey shall be bound.

The long journey, which traversed mount and meadow, appeared to end in an instant. I know we travelled a great expanse, for images did flash through my mind, as before my sight sailed a salvo of landscapes, scenes, and sounds, as if the moment were a compaction of a thousand moons under a thousand skies under the light of a million stars. As my mind was shedding the drops of this tide of thought, a beach did arise from the haze. It was abuzz with activity, and the children joined the jubilant air with jolly of their own, for they rejoiced at their successful arrival, while the lady was content to stand at my side, gazing at the gregarious gathering with a glimmer of genuine glee.

As my party was awash in the moment, small featherlike flakes drifted upon the air, ever increasing in number and size, until, in what may well have been an instant, the very earth was embraced with an ivory fleece. Despite the heavenly guest pampering us with its cottony contribution, there was no cold, but rather a gentle warmth that encircles one with sincere solicitude. Still, the sight proved unwelcome to the merry masses, who were struck with a sword of somberness.

The children ceased their celebration and sagged in their stance as sadness cast its frightful girth on their frail shoulders, and the lady was crestfallen. Melancholy reared its odious face, and the skies did respond in kind, as the azure faded to a mournful gray. I was also awestruck, uttering words that had sound for the first time of the only four in this tale: "How could this be? It never snows near the sea!" But we made it this far, and we will not have the beast of sorrow rule the day. Taking heart, I uttered the second set of words that had a sound: "We came here after all that journey and all the toil and trouble. We came to the sea. You now have the sea before you, after all that, and you are just going to miss your chance to enjoy the fruits of this journey, just because there is a little snow?"

Hope returned to the children's eyes, and the load that had encumbered their little hearts lifted. They were convinced. Light returned to the day, the frozen scene thawed into motion, and the children set out to the sea. The sands were golden, the sky was blue, the breeze was warm, and all was right with the world once more.

Our duty done, the lady and I set out to town. We were heading to her new house. As before, how did I know where our path leads? I do not know. I do not recall any words being spoken, yet, at the same time, I do recall an exchange of words. It dawned upon me that these exchanges could be more than meets the eye, and I suspected telepathy may be the culprit at play. It may well have been, for our destination was branded in my brain and the way was clear.

We made our way up a sloping street in a drab city of faded colors. The street was littered with cars and pedestrians, but despite the smorgasbord of souls, managed to be lifeless. We turned right from the sidewalk into a commercial building of a sort. How the building managed to be even drearier than the city remains a thing of wonder, but, somehow, it managed to accomplish the feat, rather excelling in this duty to further border on the shuddersome. The building was devoid of life and gray as the reaper's unhallowed robes. It also had a lingering aura of foreboding menace tinged in a kind of haze that could devour a man were their wits be left to waver. Half the shops stood open, yet vacant, and the other half lay shut, yet all gave a sense of eroded, but gruesome splendor, like a decaying monument to a long dead civilization.

We descended a deceased escalator to the lower level, and I felt the sickening smog engulf us even more, threatening to steal the very life's air from our lungs, and in a moment it very well could have, would we not have taken heart upon seeing the silver of day before us through a metallic frame. We welcomed the sight of the obfuscous outdoors with utmost joy and relish, as one would greet a long lost love who was dearly missed, descending the sloping street that stretched at an awkward angle possible only in realms such as these.

After a short walk, we reached a sinister looking ashen-wooded gabled mansion with decrepit iron gates and a festering lawn. We immediately entered the hollow frame that seemed to cherish the memory of a door it had once held, behind which was a dark foyer that seemed to serve as a bedroom. The room had nary but a comically large luxurious, rather radiant, white bed in the center that seemed very out of place in the gloom.

With barely a moment to register our surroundings, we saw movement at the edge of the room, as a man shrouded in evil itself stood in the corner. The vile being was decked in purple wizardly robes adorned with mysterious decorations, perhaps calligraphy or runes of a nature unknown but to his kind. He yelled a deafening silent scream, and by his side, out of the darkness itself, materialized four clouds of smoke, out of which four other identical stygian horrors emerged. The five seemed to be similar in every way: the robes, the face, the height, the tone, and, most notably, the very evil they exuded. They immediately set upon invoking an ancient rite of sort, opening their palms to the floor, out of which then spewed sickening purple streams of venomous luminance, and calling out a name in a serpentine invocation that resounded with the hailing of what could only be a tainted name: "We summon you, Dr. Geshfaulken".

From the bile amassed on the floor started emerging a sickly green glare, summoned in which were a leg, then another, then an arm, then another, then a torso bearing a fetid head, on which materialized a face bearing a grimace of pure, unbridled malice. During the seconds in which the body would form, a rush of thoughts raced through my head once again. It was her, giving me the battle plan for our coming encounter with her ancient enemy. It was clear now; she was a witch who had escaped this dire guild from which this beast had come. She had escaped to the warmth of the seaside city seeking respite from the assault of her former benefactors, but they had found her, even here. Now, she must face them in battle, but wizardly battles are not of spell and curse. She must face this doctor, a professor of the arcane arts, in the ancient contest of Aerdlych. She had no time to explain the rules of the contest, but sufficed to say that capture would mean instant death.

As the thoughts were relayed to my mind, the room descended before my sight, soon to be under me. She had nullified the manifestation of my physical body and sent me to astral form to protect me from the vile doctor, for, though one may not engage more than one opponent in Aerdlych, one cannot trust the slithering snake that had, as we concluded our conversation, solidified his skin, thus concealing his flesh, bone, and viscera that had lay bare before us a tad before.

From my lofty vantage point in the center of the ceiling I looked to the place where the doctor stood, behind him was fluttering down one of the robes that had clad one of the conjurers. They had expended their energy to summon their spiteful superior and had all faded to nothingness, it seems. I could also behold a change come upon the room, as the bane of life itself bellowed a blistering, silent yell. The room changed form from square to circular, the bed placed in the center of the room glowed with a radiant ghostly luster, as if it was the very moon casting its light on a solemn night. It was beautiful, yet dangerous. Yes, dangerous it was; as if merely touching the thing would scorch one's worldly vessel from existence itself. It was then that the very menacing nature of Aerdlych dawned upon me, and I resolved not to be a mere spectator to the lady witch's suffering.

His mighty muted roar at an end, the doctor lunged forward toward the lady witch, and she fled from before him with a speed as swift as Hermes in his legendary Talaria. For innumerable times they circled the cylindrical arena, until the distance between them began to dwindle. As she felt his toxic gasps approach her, she conjured up a white object under her, a flying carpet of luminous white it was; a form of purity in a land of poison. She started making space between herself and her would be assassin, little by little battling for that extra space of air. Yet, weak or slow the doctor was not, and evident it was, that this cunning cur had more than a deck under his sleeve.
With a rush of speed he dove forward and reduced the hard earned distance in a swipe, reducing the witch's hard work to ruin in a beat. At thus, my mind sprung into motion, and, realizing I also had a form of sway in this realm, I took mental hold of the carpet and started moving it forward with telekinesis.

The doctor noticed the sudden change in speed, and his demeanor did not fail to gain even more venom. He uttered a silent incantation to transform into a demonic creature akin to a panther and make a mad dash toward the poor floating soul, who was growing quite frightened as her magic carpet that had been floating above the dusty floor started plummeting little by little, leaving a clear circle in the powdery residue. It truly was a moment of horror and arduous labor as two souls worked hand in hand to defeat one so ruined, so putrid. Yet, after moments of this grim darkness, salvation did start emerging from the shadows.

They say the darkest hour of night is the one right before the dawn, and true it was here as well, for, after the grim seconds in which we both labored to avoid dreaded doom, the doctor seemed to be losing his venomous edge. The ebon panther-like abomination transformed once more to a lanky man, and the witch realized that the race had concluded and the war was won. She dispelled the fraying carpet and got up, approaching the spot where her adversary stood but a blink ago. The spot was engulfed in a searing smoke, and amid the fumes lay a molten husk of what turned out to be the vile man. She summoned a large silver spoon and uttered silent words to him as she scooped his soupy substance off the floor, and his mouth moved in a silent utterance, which, I am quite certain, was caked in curse and cruelty, no doubt showering her with a rabid torrent of vows of revenge and retribution, before she cast him out of the open doorframe.

That is how the tale ends. I descended and rematerialized in mortal vessel before her, as we had our final, rather underwhelming, vocal exchange that transpired: "Thank you", she said, and I responded with "You are most welcome" and as courteous and gentlemanly a bow as I could muster as the world faded before me and the light of day in the realm of reality tickled my eyes.

The End