Category: The Pool

LEAP

A Night Portals Short Story

“You are a divine being. You matter, you count. You come from realms of unimaginable power and light, and you will return to those realms.”
—Terence McKenna

It was colder than usual. The top of the ragged tent flapped and waved as Charlotte opened her sleep crusted eyes. Sara Ann’s arm laid across her throat and she gently picked up her little sister’s appendage and laid it back over the little girl’s small torso.
She laid there for a moment trying to lull herself back to sleep, but she was already too much awake. She needed to get up anyway, she thought. Today was her Leap Day. She’d been chosen yesterday for this important calling, and Charlotte wanted to be ready.

Just one more good day with her parents and little sister before she took her leap and went somewhere else. She was excited as were most of the people who had gone before her, with just a touch of fear. But the tribe Wiseman assured her that where she was going, the land was plentiful with food and warmth. A place where you didn’t have to worry about radioactive meat and water. A place where you slept on soft blankets and pillows, that never had to be shared.

“Everyone had one.” The tribe Wiseman said. Charlotte believed him. He bore the mark of the “Sigh.”

Charlotte recalled the little creature that was drawn on the Wiseman’s arm. Round head, round ears, and a round jolly belly, that wiggled as the Wiseman moved his saggy fleshy arm.

Read the rest of, Leap, HERE

The sensation is peculiar. Everything is nothing but consciousness. Existing through my memories that pass by on a continuous timeline. I don’t know where my mind begins, and my body ends, or if I even have a body. Once nothing, and now something. Just floating. But I remember my name is Ryan. I existed out there, whatever out there means.

It’s been months since I have opened my eyes, but I see. Each event of my life ticks by in vivid color and meaning. Falling off my bike when I was five. I can feel the skin that goes missing from my knee. I run home with blood running down my legs as my friends look on in shock. I run into my house into my healthy mother’s arms. I can feel the love I feel now as I float when she puts her arms around me. Unconditional, an all-enveloping ether of love. The memory clicks by and is replaced with a hospital bed. I am ten years old and I don’t want to go into the room my father is gesturing towards. Death is in that room. I can sense it in my little body. I can smell it as if it were unpleasant food cooking in a witch’s cauldron. Like in that story the woman in the room used to read to me.

Read The Light through the Water HERE