A Flight of Souls

Fear filled me—the same fear that the oracle had accused me of harboring—and all I wanted was to back away from this being.

“Do not be afraid.” He spoke up again, his eyes calm and gentle, almost as though he’d read my thoughts. “I heard the wretched crying of your soul, and I have simply come to answer you.”

He must have heard me shouting. I cursed myself for giving into the temptation to break the silence of that vacuum. Though to be fair, I never could have predicted this…

“Uh…” I began, unable to shake how bizarre it felt to be talking to this spirit. “You’re mistaken. I wasn’t calling for help… I’m just on my way to the supernatural dimension.”

My words hung awkwardly in the air as the spirit continued to survey me.

I staggered back as he began drifting upward, out of the entrance. He cocked his head to one side, his sculpted brows knotting in a frown. “Why are you afraid?”

I didn’t answer. I was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable with this strange being’s presence with each moment that passed. My instinct was to hurtle away in the opposite direction, but I found myself rooted to the spot. I simply couldn’t just back away. Not yet. I needed to know who and what this was.

“What are you?” I asked.

“An agent of destiny, some call me.” He’d reached within feet of me now. His arm moved and his hand landed on my shoulder. To my shock, I could actually feel him. His touch… it was firm, on my shoulder. How is that possible? “While others call me… fate itself.”

His grip on my shoulder tightened, then his other arm shot out and he gripped me by the upper arm.

My face contorted in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Come with me,” he replied, even as he began to tug on me. “We wish to show you something.”

Who’s we?

He was pulling me toward the portal. I tried to struggle but, as I attempted to push him away, my hands passed through him like he was made of nothing but air.

He looked back over his shoulder, and as I followed his gaze, I caught sight of another being just like the man holding me, drifting out of the entrance of the gate. Bizarrely, he was dragging behind him… a box. Though as he neared, it looked more like a coffin. A white coffin.

“Get off me.” I struggled again to break free, however futilely. The being holding me hauled me toward his companion… and the coffin. His comrade lifted open the lid of the coffin before moving toward me. His hands wrapped around my ankles. The two of them carried me to the box and laid me inside as easily as one would set down an infant in a cradle. They let go of me once they’d positioned me at the base of the coffin, but before I could zoom out, they slammed the lid shut.

I immediately tried to pass through the walls of the box, but I could not. There was a narrow, vertical window of glass that trailed down the length of the box’s lid. When I gazed through it, it was to see the snowy sky above. Then I caught a glimpse of hands clutching the sides of the box. They lifted it, and then with a lurch that flattened me against the base of the box, the view outside became nothing but a blur. The coffin shook violently from side to side.

They were hurtling away with me… back through the tunnel walls?

Ben

I couldn’t see where they were taking me, but, to my surprise, it didn’t seem like they’d dragged me into the portal. Watching the coffin’s window was like looking through the window of a washing machine at maximum speed. I could barely even make out any distinct colors, let alone forms or objects. But it was light—lighter than it should have been if we were hurtling through the vacuum.

It was a bumpy ride, and if I’d endured this as a human, I was sure that my skull would have cracked by now from the amount of times my head made contact with the coffin’s walls. This box was like the one Julie had trapped me in, resistant to subtle beings.

Finally, the beings began to slow down. The view out of the glass became a little less mangled and I stopped being bashed about so much.

As we slowed enough for the view to come fully into focus, I wondered if I’d finally lost my mind. Water surrounded the box. Rough, swirling water. It was moving around and around in a vortex, as though we’d entered the center of some kind of giant whirlpool.

The coffin lurched again, dropping in what felt like a free fall. I was jolted away from the window and by the time I managed to press my face against the glass again, the coffin was still surrounded by water… only much calmer—and darker—water. It no longer swelled and surged, but instead was still and calm. The lid of the box faced what I assumed was skyward, and I could just about make out the rippling surface of the water and a few faint trickles of light—moonlight, I could only assume. It was far too pale for sunlight.

The box continued sinking deeper into whatever reservoir of water I’d crashed into before there was an upward pull—the being hauling me back to the surface. Only now, as I gazed out, I could only see one spirit manning the coffin. The same copper-haired man who’d been the first to touch me. The other must have left at some point. It was impossible to guess when.

The spirit’s body—emitting a soft halo of light in the murky water—temporarily obstructed my view. I felt him lifting the container higher, and then he positioned the box upright. When he moved aside and I was able to peer through the glass again, it was to see that he’d lifted me into a long, black gondola boat, two oars resting at its side. As I gazed around the boat, we were floating on some kind of vast lake, enclosed within an expansive cavern. The ceiling was so high, even straining my neck didn’t allow me to glimpse it. Boulders lined the edges of the lake, and the walls of the cave were rocky and uneven. The spirit planted himself in front of me on the boat and took up the two oars. Dipping them into the water, he began to row.