11 – Coming out

The sensations that assaulted Paul’s mind were chaotic. His vision was distorted, blurry, and wrapped around so that he could almost look backwards. Wounds all over ‘his’ body itched, he could feel body parts he was pretty sure he didn’t have. A goat screamed at him from inside his skull. The goat sounded disturbingly human.

Before Paul could get too distracted, he remembered: ◦◦I have to get back to my own body◦◦

Paul saw his body slumped on the floor. Even with his distorted vision he could tell it wasn’t entirely healthy. Too pale perhaps, and too still. It was interesting how he could easily make sense of almost everything he saw, but determining the state of a human based on its appearance took some effort.

Also, having floppy ears felt weird.

◦◦I really have to get back to my own body◦◦ he reminded himself with increased urgency.

Now searching through his sensations with purpose, Paul found a familiar pull on his heart. It felt stronger than before, and more urgent. He closed his eyes and PULLED.

Almost instantly Paul left his goat-body and once again was floating in the white mist. Pulling on his link with the goat to slow himself down, Paul managed to look around a bit more than last time. He himself was (or did he merely look like?) a pale yellow cloud, two or three times as tall as it was wide. Fuzzy edges aside, his spirit (if that was what it was) was shaped like a stretched out octahedron. At his edges eddies and swirls of yellow matter snaked into the white background mist and the mist swirled into him in return, so that he could not say with definiteness where ‘he’ began or ended.

◦◦like a cloud of piss in a cold lake ◦⍵◦

◦◦Thanks. I really needed to hear that. ◦x◦ Paul sighed in response to his inner poet.

Besides Paul’s body stood a man. Well-formed, tall, and deep purple of colour, the man stood out boldly from the mist. How Paul could even know that the man stood close to his body, or what sense of scale he used to determine that the man was ‘tall’, Paul didn’t know. He couldn’t actually see the physical world, but his instincts didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

On the other side of Paul’s spirit, the goat’s spirit was light green and even more amorphous than his own. A tentacle of yellowy-green reached out from the spirit and connected with Paul’s.

In the distance there were many patches of colour. Before Paul could look any closer though–

Paul SLAMMED into his body.

His vision went black. His muscles cramped. His heart hammered. His lunges SCREAMED. Paul sucked in a breath, and coughed. He was cold. Dreadfully cold. Paul’s only comfort as he lay on that floor, breathing heavily and shivering, was that he could feel himself recovering.

::3rd degree hypoxic backlash, not bad for a first spirit walk:: Tessera noted dryly.

◦◦You – shiver shiver shiver – You what?!◦◦

::Your body briefly died, you know. And yet you’ll fully recover within 15 minutes. Aren’t you proud of yourself? ::

There was then a brief pause as Paul’s mind struggled to digest that comment. He’d been meaning to think about the imperfections of the analogy between the ‘sight’ he’d experienced whilst between bodies and actual physical sight. (After all, he’d been able to ‘see’ himself without complication –which raised the question of where his ‘spirit eyes’ could be located– and the whole experience had felt more three-dimensional, more full-bodies than the usual experience of ‘sight’. He hadn’t just seen a contour of the purple man; he’d known his full three-dimensional shape in the instant that he’d focused on it. He could probably have looked inside Tessera – assuming that was the identity of the purple man.)

But now rage bubbled up within him. This was the second time Tessera had played with his life in as many days. Did he truly think–

::You worry too much♫ :: Tessera sang, interrupting Paul’s internal tirade, ::♫I had it allll under controll♫ ::

◦-◦ … ◦-◦

::You didn’t really think I’d let you die after allll I invested in you, did you?♫ ::

◦~◦ … ◦x◦

:: It was perfectly safe! :: Tessera pouted, as if outraged that Paul would doubt him, :: Even 4th degree hypoxic backlash has no lasting consequences, and I was standing by, ready to step in if you needed me to! ::

Paul sighed, now with his actual lunges.

◦◦ This’d better be worth it ◦◦

:: Of course! :: Tessera readily agreed :: You can now see when people are lying♫ ::

That… actually sounded impressive. Paul allowed himself a smile. The warmth in his chest felt good. Of course there might be –

:: Though you’ll need plenty of practise to use the skill reliably. And until you learn to keep a spirit limb inside your body whilst you move your spirit eyes out, you’ll suffer from hypoxic backlash every time ::

– a catch.

There was always a catch. Every time.

Tessera laughed silently.