Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29791712-20160807010304

It astonishes me how little people are aware of the phenomenon known as Astral Projection. But I can’t blame them for their ignorance on the subject, really. The first time I astral projected, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

It happened a week or so after my high school graduation. Returning home from work, I wanted nothing more than to just lay on my bed and sleep all afternoon. I worked at a convenience store name QuickShop. Ever since I finished high school, the bastards that manage the place “requested” for me to begin working late nights and early mornings. As if I had a goddamn choice.

I closed my eyes even before my body landed on my bed. The early glimmers of sunrise shot through my curtains. The birds outside chirped and sang their morning tunes. I heard the garbage truck roar through my block, along with the workers talking among themselves. These were usually the sights and sounds I woke up to, not fall asleep into.

Even if a banshee screamed at the top of its lungs outside, I would’ve still fallen asleep. I took one last look at my night stand, and spotted my Xbox One controller coated with a thin layer of dust. It seemed like I barely had time to engage in all the hobbies I used to love doing.

Within seconds, I knocked out.

I traveled through a variety of dreams as most people tend to do. Some came in orderly sequences, while others manifested out of the deeper layers of my subconscious.

Eventually, I woke up from my slumber. The drowsiness that possessed my body before departed, and I felt as if I drank a gallon of coffee. I sat up from my bed, and stretched my limbs. A full blanket of sunlight poured through my window, indicating that it was around the afternoon. With this in mind, I left my room to prepare for the evening.

I went into my kitchen in order to get something to drink. I spotted my mother watching her novellas in the living room. The volume was raised all the way up in order to compete with the whirling noise of the air conditioner.

“Hola, Ma,” I said, but received no response. She did crane her neck sideways, however, as if she thought she heard something. I thought about approaching my mother in order to greet her properly, but my lips ached to taste the sweet flavor of that orange juice.

I stood in front of the fridge, but paused once I saw a colony of cockroaches skidding around near the cereals on the top shelves. Those damn bugs kept on eating our food and infesting our house with their disgusting eggs. My dad told me he was planning on calling an exterminator, but who knows when that would be. I thought about smashing the heads of those pesky little insects, but again, the orange juice demanded my attention.

I glared at those vile critters as I reached to open the fridge. My hand, however, slipped through the handle.

I stood frozen, unaware and bewildered by what I just experienced. I shifted my gaze towards the fridge once more. The handle looked intact, so what the hell just happened?

I tried to grip the handle again, but my fingers slid through the handle once more. Again and again I repeated the same movements, but they all resulted with the same unexplainable conclusion.

The outside world continued on in its placid and orderly matter. But inside my own ruminations and emotions, panicked ceased controlled of my conscious in an instant. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing escaped my lips except a hollow release of breath.

I grew dizzy. My feet stumbled backwards, and I lost balance. I tripped, and the moment my body made contact with the kitchen tiles, I opened my eyes to find myself back in my room.

This time I shrieked, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. I jumped out of my bed as if the sheets caught on fire. An ocean of sweat drenched my body. My knees jiggled under my weight, but I prevented myself from collapsing.

A horde of questions bombarded my mind that demanded answers. I jolted out of my room and into the dining room where I believed I once was minutes ago.

I was rewarded with the same scene from before. My mother laid in the living room couch watching television. This time she noticed me, however, and whispered hello while blowing me a kiss. Too caught up in my own predicament, however, I evaded her and dashed straight into the kitchen.

My hands fumbled through the open shelves on top of the refrigerator. I found those fucking cockroaches crawling all over the cereal boxes, just like before. Everything was the same.

I approached the fridge. Without a moment of hesitation, I extended my hand, and this time my fingers curled around the handle. I didn’t know if that was what I wanted to happen or not. Either way, I knew something very strange just occurred in my boring life, and it may change it for the better.

Or maybe for the worse. It was too soon to decide which one.

Instead of studying for the extra college courses I signed up for, or reading away all of the science fiction novels I haven’t touched in months, I spent the entire evening and night researching what just happened to me.

Google helped within minutes of typing in the right key words, and clicking on the best links. I soon discovered a name for the miracle that happened: Astral Projection. One website described it as an out-of-body experience that behaves in a form a telepathy, but reaches new heights and limits far beyond any psychic ability. A large scale of debates populated the internet, arguing whether or not such a remarkable experience can be accomplished or not. Some people recalled their own stories and viewpoints on the subject matter. Others seemed quick to dismiss the idea as something psychological, and nothing to do with spirituality.

I certainly believed it, however. Hell, I lived through it.

Arriving to this conclusion, I contradicted myself on a completely large scale. Before going through with this bizarre experience, I was a firm believer that no such thing as heaven, hell, spirits, or an afterlife existed. I never called myself an atheist, since I still believed that anything in this world was possible. I approached life with a more nihilistic sense, since for some reason this granted me with comfort.

But the deeper I dug into astral projection, the more other opportunities of what to believe in opened up. The constant talk about spirit and body kept on popping up, along with the science that maybe the powers of consciousness extends farther from what we think possible.

The unavoidable fact stood clear, however. I, somehow, found a way to detach my soul from my body, and wander through the physical world without the need of my actual body. I laid on my bed after finally closing my laptop, and I allowed my mind to cycle through that thought over and over again. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what I could do with this awesome ability.

By the time I prepared myself for bed, it was around three in the morning. I had to go to my job in four hours, and I was still behind on a shit-load of school work. Not only that, but I wanted to investigate more about astral projection, and learn everything needed to be learn in order to perfect the experience.

I huddled into my blankets with only one precise thought in my head. I knew I wanted, no, needed, to astral project once more.

I tried astral projecting every single night I fell asleep, but every attempt ended with the same failures. People theorized a laundry list of techniques and tricks in order to shift into astral projection, but they all seemed a bit skeptical to me. One article I read required you to force your body to sleep, but to keep your mind awake, a method similarly used in order to lucid dream. Despite the odds, I gave it a shot, and ended up trapping myself in a sleep paralysis. Never doing that crap again.

As the days dragged on, I grew more desperate to astral project again. I hated work with every fiber of my being. I dreaded the long and dismal walks to the bus stop. I hated waking up early with barely any hours of sleep. My managers treated me with no respect, and they paid me shit for money.

The worries of school also added to the equation of my anxiety. I had no clue what major I wanted to pursue, and because of this I decided to apply for a community college instead. I didn’t know if that was the right choice or not, and I contemplated every day if my life maintained any sense of direction or not. Both school and work took control of my life, and left me feeling caged and enslaved to my own horrors.

Astral projection was the key to my emancipation. It offered a way to liberate myself. I only felt happy whenever I devoted my time into unfolding new secrets of astral projection.

I read something unsettling, however, during my break at work one day. Someone asked in Yahoo Question if it’s safe to astral project, and if there are any risks whenever someone enters it. The comments consisted of its usual believers and non-believers, trying to prove one another wrong but delivering their typical vacuous comebacks. Among the pile of junk, however, one guy wrote something that almost made me choke on my sandwich.

He claimed that there is a possibility that sometimes demons or ghost from the afterlife take advantage of those who astral project, and possess the bodies of those who left theirs while participating in this event. He talked about a thin white string that attaches your soul to your body. I read about this pale line in other articles, but thought it to be a work of other people’s imagination.

This guy, however, stated that demons and spirits can cut that string from your soul, and that leaves your body vulnerable for any other soul to dominate it. He ended his comment saying that he doesn’t know himself whether it’s true or not, but that he discussed this with a lot of people who allegedly witnessed this happening.

For a minute or so I overlooked the comment. I soon dismissed it, however, as another made-up rumor trying to dissuade people from experiencing something magical.

Whether it was true or not, I knew I would still take the risk. In life, in order to receive the grandest things, there has to be at least some consequences that offers a challenge. If that was the cost in order to astral project, I’d be more than glad to pay the price.

After two weeks of intense practice, I knew I found my own personal and unique way to astral project.

I discovered that astral projection worked best whenever the person is extremely tired, so I tried to find the perfect day where I went to work late at night. The opportunity arrived one Saturday night around the middle of July when I needed to work from seven at night all until three in the morning.

I entered work with so much enthusiasm that all of the employees found my unusual behavior suspicious. Barbra and Frank, the two main people I worked with—also my closest friends in that piece of shit job—kept on commenting how awake and excited I looked.

I noticed Barbra mopping the floors an hour before my shift ended. I approached her and asked if she wanted a small break as I finished her job. I grew tired of watching her fat arms swinging the mop around and barely getting any cleaning done.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Sweetie, I got this. Don’t worry. You already do so much here.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” I responded back. “Really, I insist.”

She handed over the mop with a smile, and I swiped and polished the entire store until the floors sparkled. My benevolence continued on, and not just with Barbra, but with everyone else. They told poor Frank to take the trash out, knowing damn well he just recovered from his knee surgery. He shattered his bone playing football, and ever since then he’s been limping. I helped Frank take out half the trash, and the big guy ended up thanking me and sharing half of his lunch during our break.

Towards the end of my shift, I yawned every few minutes, and a drunken drowsiness wobble my vision. The moment I clocked out, I gathered my things, and rushed to the bus stop. The driver arrived only a couple of minutes later. The entire ride home, I had to stop myself from dozing off inside my comfortable seat.

By the time the bus dropped me off a block from my home, I had to drag my feet by how exhausted I felt. My eyes began swelling, and the weight on my legs grew heavier and heavier till the point where it seemed as if I was trudging through quick sand. I came a second close to just falling on the ground, and resting right in front of my house’s steps. At that point, even laying on a ridged field filled with needles and knives seemed just as pleasant as a bed.

I fished for my keys with lazy effort, and unlocked the front door. I tumbled inside, and closed the door behind me, forgetting to lock the damn thing. The path from my living room to my bedroom appeared like an endless road that stretched for dozen of miles. I stammered forward with no hope of reaching my destination. With every second that ticked, the pounds on my shoulders pulled me down, and I made it to my room by practically crawling there.

“Holy shit, this was a bad idea,” I hissed to myself as I staggered towards my bed. I slammed on top of my mattress, and almost knocked the fuck out. But then I remembered my purpose, and why I agreed to go through with this arduous attempt in the first place. I rolled on to my back, kicked off my working boots, and began channeling my concentration.

The two methods I applied were the Rope and Hammock technique. I read about these two tricks in a single article, and decided to try them both out at the same time.

The Rope technique requires the user to imagine a thick line of rope hanging from the ceiling. The person then reaches out with their imaginary hands, and visualizes themself pulling away from their physical body. With enough time and effort, the user would eventually free themself, and complete astral projection.

The Hammock technique works in a similar matter. The person needs to picture themself swinging back and forth, all while maintaining stillness the entire time. Little by little the person would feel their soul drift away from their physical body, and once all the strings are loose, you need to roll out.

Laying on my bed, I imagined the thick string of rope swinging back and forth from my ceiling. I pictured my hands stretching far for the rope, and then clasping the rough string with a tenacious grip. I made sure to be very specific with every single detail. Once I fully constructed this image in my head, I began ascending.

As I climbed higher and higher, I started swinging myself back and forth using the rope as support. The vibrations I read about before began rumbling through my body. With each swing and with each climb, the inside of my body felt as if an earthquake erupted through my organs and bones. My eyes remained closed, but through the darkness that my eyelids offered, colorful and lucid lights flashed on and off like fireworks. All these distractions almost interrupted my concentration.

I grew nauseous, which was a sign that my technique was actually working. Despite my uncomfortable state, I continued on, determining to relive the wonderful experience once more.

A ringing noise jingled inside my ears. The longer I climbed, the louder that rattling sound grew. Within seconds it sounded as if a car alarm was blasting right next to my ear drums. The illumination exploding inside my eyes grew so bright all I saw was whiteness. The powerful vibrations caused my body to tremble, my bones feeling as if they cracked and split open.

The agony only amplified the more I forced myself out of my body. Every instinct commanded me stop, but I denied my thoughts, and pushed my limits. I knew I was only moments away from completing the ritual. Just a little more…

“Argh!” I screamed, and released myself at the last second. I rolled towards my left, and landed on the hardwood floor. Somehow I didn’t get hurt. The only pain that reached me, however, was the sting of failure and disappointment.

“Goddammit!” I yelled, and swung my fist. When my knuckles went through the wall without breaking, I paused in awe.

“Holy crap! I actually did it!” I jumped up from the floor, and began bouncing around like a child who just received a new video game for Christmas.

I took a good look at my hands, and found it fascinating by how different it appeared from my actual physical body. It still had the same shape and size of my physical hand, but it looked more as if feathers and thin white lines constructed my hand instead of flesh and skin.

I glanced down at my chest, and spotted a blue light glowing inside me. It looked like an indigo flame burning right in between my lungs. I never heard or read about something like that before. The blue shine in my chest expanded one second and shrunk the next, imitating the function of my heart.

I reached for the back of my head, and made contact with the thin white cord everyone talked about. While holding the wire, I turned around, curious to see how my body must look like during astral projection.

The sight of a woman holding a sharp knife against my throat took all the air from my chest and stomach.

“Do. Not. Move.” Her calm and tempered voice sent chills down my spine.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, my words seeping out of my lips as a breath of thin air. I took a step forward.

“I said don’t move, dammit!” The mysterious woman inched her weapon into my chin. I obeyed her demands once a trickle of blood dripped down my face. Although the pain never reached me, I flinched backwards.

She stood crouched next to my sleeping body, the hand holding the dagger shaking frantically. Despite the hostile situation, she provoked no real sense of danger or animosity. The wild and restless look in her eyes suggested otherwise, however.

Her long and black hair flowed out of her scalp all the way down to the middle of her stomach. Strings of her hair concealed her face, but through some of the openings I noticed hard wrinkles crested against her cheeks and forehead. Two moles dotted her face, one on her chin, the other in between her brow. The woman’s thin lips mumbled every few seconds. However menacing she may or may not be, one thing was for sure. She was bat-shit crazy.

The woman’s hair split into two directions once it stretched pass her shoulders. Right in between the two paths of her hair, at the center of the woman’s breast, a faint and tenuous red light shivered on and off.

“Wait a minute…” I whispered. “Are- Are you astral projecting? Are you a ghost or-”

“I’ll be asking the questions here,” she interrupted, her tone that of a mother disciplining her child. “How old are you?”

I hesitated to answer. One quick look at the knife near my neck, however, provided enough of an incentive. “Eight- Eighteen.”

“Eighteen, hm? I think that would do just fine.” With her free hand, she tried taking hold of the other side of the cord, the one protruding out from my forehead in my physical body. She threw her fingers back, however, as if the white string bit her.

The woman winced. “Jesus! That hurt. You have a strong connection with your physical body.” She laughed.

“Listen,” I said, choosing my words wisely. “I can help you out with whatever you need me for. Just please, explain what’s going on.”

“Did I say you can talk?” she shrieked, and this time slid the knife above my stomach. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and do what I say, I’ll make sure you die a slow and painful death.” Every word she spoke sounded calm, yet boiled my blood.

I nodded my head. If I were in my physical body, I would’ve pissed my pants by now.

The woman grinned. “Good. Now, I need you to come over here, and for you to deliberately disconnect your spiritual cord from your physical body.”

Her request stunned me. Reason and trepidation pulled me from both sides, my options running low.

I locked eyes with the woman. Whatever choice I made, my body would end up out of my control forever. If I refused to deliver my body, she’d simply slit my throat, and that would be the end for me. If I offered her my body, however, she’d maintain full control of it, and who knows if she’d ever give it back. Either way, I was fucked.

I studied her eyes deeper. I came to recognize eyes like the ones she bore. Those eyes spoke of desperation and hope. Her harsh attitude and formidable looks were all just empty threats, an act to deceive my mind and manipulate me through fear. The woman’s hands gave it away. They trembled not out of rage, but from her own terrors devouring her from the inside.

She needed my body as much as I needed it.

“No,” I said, this time with confidence in my tone. “Not until you tell me exactly what you’re going to do with it.”

This caught her off guard. Panic ceased her for a quick moment, but left as quick as it came. “This isn’t a negotiation. You either give me your body, or I wash your sheets and pillows with your warm blood.”

“Quit the tough shit.” I approached my bed. The only thing staying between me and the woman was my resting body. It amused me how peaceful I look, despite the critical state my flesh was in. “If you kill me, you’re losing something as well. What is it that you really want?”

Her eyes avoided my face. This time I cornered her. A feeling of triumph rose inside me.

“Listen,” she began. “I am not at peace right now. Let’s just say that the reason why I’m not in heaven, hell, or wherever the fuck I’m supposed to go is because there’s something I still need to do here on this earth that I can’t do without a physical body. I’ve waited months for an opportunity to arrive, and the hope came once I picked up a faint signal right inside this house.” She nodded at me.

“You astral projected by accident,” she continued. “See, souls are able to feel the presence of other souls if they’re nearby. I knew it’d only be in a matter of time until you astral projected again, and I’d be able to interrogate you soon enough. And here we are.”

She fixed her gaze at me. I tried to imply nothing but apathy in my expression. She saw pass my mask, however, and stared at the core of my fears.

“What is it that you want to do exactly?” I asked.

“Didn’t I just tell you? I need your body in order to complete-”

“I know, dammit,” I interrupted. “What exactly is it though? Be specific.”

Her eyes opened wide, the muscles and bones in her jaw locked hard, and the hand holding the dagger tightened. I worried what she may do next.

But then, all of that aggression left her. Her arms flopped down. The woman cocked her head low, and she released her grip on the knife. It landed right next to my shoulder. She looked defeated.

“Will it matter?” she asked. Through her voice I heard her sorrows get the best of her. “Even if I tell you the truth, will you still give me your body?”

She finally asked the ultimate question. I had little time to think my answer through.

“Will you return it? Can you even return it once you’re in my body?” Moonlight spilled inside my room, casting a spotlight right on the woman’s figure. Some beauty hidden within the bitterness of her face shined through. I knew this woman to be someone who means good. But sometimes what’s good for one person is a catastrophe on the other side of the bargain.

“I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “I don’t know if I can or cannot. Not because I won’t be able to leave your body. That’s easy. It’s because what I need to do, your body may not live through it.”

“I’m sorry then,” I began. “My answer is-”

We both reacted at the same time, the both of us expecting the same outcome. But my reflexes proved superior compared to hers. She snatched the knife next to her, and went to stab the center of my chest. I caught her wrist just in time, however. With all the strength my fingers and palms lent me, I squeezed. A small cry left her lips.

We struggled against each other. I pulled upwards as she pushed down. The tip of the knife kept on poking the line between my pectoral muscles. I realized the strength of the astral spirit derives from the will of the user, and how much inner potential dwells inside the soul. Every time the woman came close to overpowering me, I mustered enough faith to stay at equal levels with her.

“Stop it, dammit!” I gritted. “Maybe I can help you find another body. Please, this is crazy!”

“I’ve waited too long, kid,” she said. “It’s time I move on from this depressing life.”

The woman slid the knife from the base of her palms to the tip of her fingers. I managed to pull her arm up and away from my body, but at the same time she flung the hilt of the knife towards the ceiling.

I stared up at it, flabbergasted. The sharp end of the knife dove towards my chest. I worried it might sink into my body once it landed. I reached up with trembling fingers.

The woman sent a clean and direct punch right at the middle of my astral chest, and hit the core of my indigo flame. I flew backwards and sprawled on the floor, all of my ambition sucked right out of me. She caught me off guard. The bitch knew how to scramble, I gave her that.

Before the knife could land on my chest, she snatched it mid-air. The weight on my limbs prevented me from lifting myself up. A torturous pain that started at the center of my chest and spread throughout my body paralyzed my movements. I glanced down at my blue flame, only to find it dimming out. She must’ve targeted a vital point on my astral body.

The woman plunged the knife deep into my shoulder. The pain my physical body felt reached me. “Fuck!” I grabbed my shoulder out of pure instinct, but it did little to alleviate the sting. Every second the wound burned more, making it impossible to breathe.

Through the midst of my torment, I noticed something unusual about my astral cord. The once vibrant white light that blared out of it dimmed down to a wink of a flash. The darkness of my room swallowed the light from the string, and sucked away all its vitality.

Oh shit.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. She tangled both her hands around the other end of the cord. This time the string failed to defend itself. “But this is for my son.”

In one simple motion, she pulled the cord out, detaching my astral body from my physical body.

At that same instant the pain on my shoulder left. After being freed from such a torment, however, I needed a moment of rest. I hunched my back against the wall, and gasped for air.

The cord vanished from existence, any trace of it hidden elsewhere. The woman didn’t waste her time. She cupped her palm above her scarlet flame, and concentrated until something poked out from the back of her head. Another cord. Her cord. Similar to the one I own, but its light laughable compared to a living astral spirit.

She pulled the cord farther out from her head, and found the end tip. I hefted myself up, my knees barely able to support my weight. Seeing her cord extend, knowing damn well what she was about to do, gifted me an ounce of strength. Even though a slight breeze could’ve knocked me down, I rooted my stance with a desire to fight.

“You don’t stand a chance,” the woman said. “Besides, I already have your body.” She pressed the end of her cord against the back of my physical body. Nothing clicked, but she must’ve felt something, since her eyes opened wide.

She yelled, and gripped her shoulder. “Shit that hurts! Shouldn’t have stabbed you so hard, huh?” Again she laughed.

Before I even lifted my foot off the ground, she closed her eyes, and focused once more. The next second her apparition disappeared from sight.

“Damn.” I leaned back, too exhausted and disappointment to support myself. A great void of fear tried to consume my emotions, but I diminished it. If I allowed my terrors to get the best of me now, every attempt at success I tried to reach so far would be in vain.

A groan sounded off near my bed, a voice that I came way too familiar with. I watched as my physical body rose from its slumber. The knife still poked out from my shoulder. Well, I guess it’d only be appropriate if I named my body a she now.

She removed the knife. Blood squirted out of the wound like sprinklers at a playground. She grinded her teeth, the pain still too much for her to bare. I gave her props, however, for not squirming like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Hell, if that was me, I would’ve been pleading for mercy.

“So what now, bitch?” I asked, any manners I showed before gone, along with my respect towards her. “You got my body. You mind explaining everything, since you basically won already.”

She reached down my bed, and delved inside a pile of dirty laundry (momma always complained what a mess I made of myself over the years) until she grabbed a small black shirt that I barely wear anymore. She spun the shirt in loops until it mimicked the shape of a folded towel, and wrapped the cloth around her wound. The woman tied a perfect knot, and finished the bandage.

“Can’t afford to let myself be any weaker,” the woman said, disregarding my questions. She stepped off my bed and stood up.

I moved in front of her. “Okay, that’s it.” I went to tackle her, but she dodged my arms, and sprinted out of sight. “Son of a…”

I turned around, and caught sight of her heels as she ran away. The sounds of her footsteps echoed throughout the house. She was bound to wake my parents up, which was the last thing I fucking needed.

I chased after her. From the kitchen and living room I heard her stumble and crash into things, probably unfamiliar with the interior design of my house. By the time I reached the main room, she was limping towards the front door.

“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” I tried arguing once again. “I want to help you, but you’re making it really goddamn frustrating to do so.”

“You just called me a bitch not too long ago,” she said while panting.

“Because you won’t listen!”

“Follow me all you like,” the woman wheezed. “But what you’re going to see ain’t pretty.” She tightened the shirt coiled around her shoulder. Already it looked drenched in blood.

She swung the front door open without needing to unlock it—thanks to yours truly for being an idiot. The woman slipped into the night. I followed her tail.

The seasonal chills the night usually displays never reached my body. Even the shadows that loomed over every corner and direction failed to blind me with darkness. Through astral eyes, the world became clearer. From far away I was able to spot the woman’s distinctive red flame.

She turned right from my house, and jogged up the hill in my block. The slope begins a slow ascent at first, but towards the corner of my street it makes an astronomical shift and curves skyward. I knew I’d capture her the moment she reached that part of the block.

When she started climbing through the harder parts, however, she picked up speed rather than slowed down. Whatever her objective was, she would stop at nothing until she completed her final task. She mentioned something about a son. I pondered how a child could tie in with whatever this woman plotted on doing.

She made it to the top of the hill, and faced the main road in my neighborhood. This early in the morning on a Sunday, when the moon still shone on the surface of the sky, it wouldn’t be too hard to believe an eighteen year-old man was running around the streets with a bleeding shoulder. Drunks and hobos always littered the sidewalks anyways, so why not a young man with a nasty cut?

She had me chasing her block after block, the fuels of my soul, at some moments, unable to compete with their own determination. She even galloped through the streets when the lights turned green, the cars needing to skid the other direction to avoid hitting my precious fucking body.

After what seemed like hours of following her, she made a sharp right towards a new street. By the time I reached the top of the block, she was already down the hill. I wanted nothing more but to just to lay down and rest, but she was already far ahead of me as it was. I surged forward. I couldn’t quit now.

Far down the hill, I saw her climbing over one of the house’s main gates. The wound on her shoulder made it difficult for her to congregate the appropriate amount of strength needed to go over. She kept on slipping off her fingers, and stumbling on the ground. This bought me enough time to close the distance between us.

“Wait!” I screamed, dashing forward.

She craned her neck at my direction. Her eyes opened wide with astonishment, probably not suspecting me to be so close by. The woman grunted, frustrated with herself, and tried once more to hop over. This time she ignored the jolt of pain wrecking the nerves on her shoulders, and carried on.

She didn’t waste any time. The woman jogged all the way to the back of the house, all while mitigating a cramp in her stomach by clawing at her rips.

I sprinted faster. Once I came close to the fence, I thought about climbing it, but remembered that astral bodies don’t oblige to the physical rules of this universe. I passed through the gate like a ghost, and followed the path the woman took.

I passed through a narrow alleyway filled with garbage bags and a bunch of scooters. It was so dark in here that the shadows surrounding this place vaporized any light that tried to slip through. I was lost until a tiny circle of light far ahead shined through, almost as small as a pebble but rendering hope larger than a skyscraper. The light expanded as I continued forward.

I stepped inside what seemed to be the backyard. A small field of grass started from where I stood, and rushed forward in all directions until the fences separating the other backyards marked the end of the landmass. A pile of gardening tools laid scattered all over the place, the most noticeable one being a clipper with two rusty blades.

I turned around to face the backside of the home. Two doors stood before me, along with two flight of stairs, one that led up and the other down. I only knew the woman for more than a couple of minutes, so I had no insight as to what move she might’ve made next. My brain said to ascend the small steps, and sneak inside the back of the house. But something told me to intrude the house’s basement.

A knock from the basement’s door made my decision. I went down with patience, an ugly feeling crawling like spiders at the back of my mind.

The knock came again, this time with a little more effort and character. A scratching noise sounded off. A moan soon followed, light, but with a hint of pain. Instincts demanded my body to turn around, and to forget about my damn body. But I went forward, caught in the webs that curiosity loves to thread and capture their victims in.

I stood in front of the door, my nose parallel to the base of the entrance. I heard breathing from the other side. Each inhale and exhale sounded frantic. In between each breath the person on the other side whelped as well.

I went through the door, and entered the speculating room. My eyes already accustomed to the dark, I saw everything with the purest of clarity that the faint yellow light above the ceiling provided. Only in such rare moments did I wish someone stuck a knife into my pupils, and made me blind for all eternity.

An entire crowd of corpses surrounded me, all naked and reeking with the nefarious smell that is death. In some sections of the room, a pile of dead bodies stacked on top of one another like a house of cards. Bones jutted out from people’s joints. Dry and newly wedded blood painted the tiles on the floor, splotches of it splattered all over the walls and ceiling. In some places on the walls people spelled out messages with their own blood. The most common ones were “Help” and “Kill me”.

A cracking noise exploded next to me. I turned my head right, and then looked down. A nude woman laid sprawled on the floor, her face a canvas of blood, scratches, and bruises. Most of her hair looked ripped off from her scalp, the top of her head supporting an army of burn marks and peeled skin. All the blood in her body leaked out from a hole in her left breast, making her skin pale and lifeless. The only thing separating the woman from a corpse was her intense breathing.

That, and the weak blue flame burning inside her chest.

She picked up her hands from the floor, and hovered them on top of her stomach. One glance at her belly, and I nearly lost all traces of my sanity. In my lifetime, I never seen anything so disgusting and wrong than what poked out from her intestines.

Someone ripped open her stomach, removed most of the organs and whatever swims inside your abdomen, and placed a skull right inside the hollow space. The woman kept on touching and rubbing the white and red skull, all while sobbing to herself.

“My baby,” she whimpered and repeated. “Oh, Franklin!” She wrapped her arms around the skull, and cried.

I took a step back, unaware that a second later the woman’s brown eyes laid fixated at my face.

“Help me, mister,” she croaked. Hearing her voice, I came to the conclusion that this woman was no older than sixteen, maybe even less. “Please…who are you? Are you God? Are you an angel?” This woman was so close to death that her eyes were able to notice my astral body.

She left me speechless. What more can I do but watch as the agony sucked the life out of her. Maybe I could make her feel better by being with her during her last few moments, but when someone sticks a skull inside your stomach, such futile company seems unnecessary.

“Help me, please!” She screamed at the top of her frail lungs. I yelled myself out of surprise, and ran away. My fears stalked behind me. Staring into her eyes, facing death itself, I never knew such horrors could unfold inside a person.

I made it to the other side of the room. Another door faced me. The poor woman kept on crying for me to return and help her. I fought every urge in my soul to dive back into that wasteland of dead bodies and terrors.

Before I passed through to the other side, a specific corpse caught my attention near the rear of the exit. I stepped closer to the dead body, and studied the young child’s face. It was a boy. He had the same marks and lacerations as the woman screaming. Some of his flesh, however, was spared. Something about him intrigued me, though…

Two moles, one in between his brow, the other right on his chin, caught my eyes.

“Oh my God…” It all made sense now.

I left the basement with a new sense of urgency. A set of stairs mounted in front of me. I climbed up, and passed through the door. I entered a huge and well-furnished kitchen. Compared to how messy and ruined the basement was, this part of the house looked like paradise. No one would believe that right below such an organize house remained an entire collection of corpses.

Things rumbled, bumped, and broke into each other on the other side of the house. Laughter and screams echoed through the walls. I followed the voices. I walked through a large corridor, keeping my hands close to the walls and my senses alert. This house had a way of using the element of surprise to its advantage.

The shrieking and laughter stopped once I reached the end of the hallway. The edge of the corridor contained two separate rooms, each one facing the other. Again, the same dilemma rose up again. Which door to choose?

“Come in, Leo.” I heard a voice—my voice—on the left side, an invitation to the party. I tamed my fears, and went forward to the other side.

I overlooked a small room, again, very neat and humane. A bed sat all the way towards the left side of the room. At the opposite direction, a large wooden table stood on all fours. On top of the table, a cluster of papers, files, notebooks, and a laptop laid all over the place. It seemed like the messiest part of the room. Other than that, the room looked just as regular as anyone else’s.

Right across from me, the woman possessing my body kneeled on top of a bleeding man. He coughed and spat blood out from his mouth every few seconds. The glasses he wore on his small and rounded race looked scratched. Blood drooled out of his eyes and forehead. Around his throat, a necklace of cuts and bruises circled around.

“I thought about slitting his throat,” my voice found my ears through all the commotion. “But I settled with a stab to the heart. Because that’s how I felt when he killed my fucking son!” She pulled her weapon out of the man’s chest. Her victim screamed and recoiled back. The man wheezed and choked as he struggled to gather air in his raspy lungs.

She stood up from his body, spat at his face, and came close to me. “Thank you. Because of your body, I am at peace now. I’m sorry things had to escalate like this, but it was my only way of getting vengeance for what that bastard did to my sweet little Roberto. I hope you’ll find it in your lifetime to forgive me.”

She grabbed my shoulders, and smiled. I found the moment rather cynical and ironic. I stared at myself with an amusing grin, but in reality an ocean of sorrows swam through my emotions.

The weight on my body grew heavier on my shoulders. The red flame burning inside my body’s chest vanished. She was gone.

I placed my body next to the dead man. Police sirens boomed through the night. Red and blue lights flashed inside the house. With all the noise we made, I wasn’t surprise someone called the cops and filed a complaint.

There was only one thing left to do. I retrieved the dagger the woman used to kill her enemy, and slit my body’s throat. Blood leaked out like tears seeping out from an eye.

I felt the pain, but only for a moment. My body’s death came quick. I lowered my eyes, and stared at the blue flame on my chest. I watched it shrink and cool down. Little by little the spark of fire became nothing more than a diminutive ember. Soon after that, only a little speck of light remained. And finally, the fire disappeared.

A pulsing, vibrant red light replaced the indigo flame.

She begged me to at least forgive her in my lifetime. But because of her actions, I no longer had a lifetime to think about that.

I left the house, and followed the sunset that rose through the sky.

I never returned back to where I used to live. That part of my life is over. I don’t know what happened right when the police came, but I can make a pretty good assumption. They entered the house, found all the corpses in the basement, discovered my body and the killer’s body dead in his room, and noticed that I committed suicide. The killer’s secrets would be uncovered, and they would believe that I intruded the murderer’s house to finish him off for all his evil deeds.

I think that pretty much settles it. My mother and father are probably still mourning my death till this day. It’s sad, really, but I couldn’t help it. That damn woman, wherever she may be now, took advantage of a young man who just wanted to experience something new.

I live with regrets now. I want to live those young and playful years that I lost as a young adult. I can never experience what it’s like to go to my first bar at twenty-one, ride on a cruise with a girlfriend, or create a successful future for myself. All of that was taken away from me because a woman wanted to avenge her son. She must see no problem with that, but I ended up paying the full price.

Then again, I did know in retrospect the consequences, yet I chose to continue on with astral projecting.

It’s not so bad being a lost and wandering soul out in this humongous earth. I’ve see plenty of places, visited beautiful sightings, and explored all different environments.

But still, every night I think about those years gone down the drain…

Either way, I recommend you, reader, to try astral projecting. Don’t let my story discourage you from doing something epic with your boring life. Try something new. You may never know if you’ll like it or not.

Just please, for your own safety, look out for lost and wandering souls searching for a new body in order to live without regrets. I’ve heard they’re becoming a common thing now… 