I plummeted into a dark cityscape illuminated by lamp posts. Ominous clouds, outlined by flashes of red lightning, blotted out the stars. There was a storm brewing, but it wasn’t rain on the forecast. Rather than droplets of water, ragged-clothed phantoms weaved back and forth within the clouds like sharks searching for prey.
I was in Shawn’s soul space. There, everything I saw was the essence of his being; his thoughts, his emotions, his beliefs — his story. Energy is life, so if I just took what I needed, I’d be tearing out a part of his soul, causing a wound that would never heal. That’s what Cara did to her mother. I was fine; the soul is my domain and mine can’t be damaged, but Mrs. Hasbrook would never be the same.
She’d have that scar for the rest of her life and carry it into death. As far as I could tell, the damage wasn’t bad enough to cause her to mumble gibberish and draw on invisible chalkboards, but she’d be — less. The damage could affect her memories, thoughts, personality, preferences… it’s hard to say, but a piece of her was gone forever.
A person’s soul is like a house for their subconscious. It can be redecorated, but it can’t be remodeled. Taking energy is like tearing down a wall that can’t be rebuilt or repaired, but with conscious or subconscious permission, it’s the same as giving away a piece of furniture; it can be replaced.
I can enter any house like I have a skeleton key. I can mess with the things inside, but it’s still someone else’s house. Their subconscious can view me as an uninvited guest or a roommate they forgot about. So, whether my style doesn’t match their décor or I’m too rowdy, they can kick me out.
To avoid this, I have to play a role to become just another fixture of the home. If they accept me, I can get the permission I need. Then, I can leave with their energy, and they probably won’t even realize that I was in their soul.
There’s another caveat, however: By wanting to be a part of their household, I fall within the scope of their influence. If I don’t maintain focus, I can lose myself.
I discovered that during my first dive where I found myself in a crib. Apparently, in my teacher’s mind, I’m just a baby. Thankfully, it was only for a moment. It was one of the few times I was happy to be kicked across the condo.
Departing from the house analogy, the scene within Shawn’s soulscape was a dark desolate city. With the supernatural wraiths flying about, I decided that wearing a mask and a cape would be much more fitting than a diaper.
The trembling man-boy sat on the sidewalk under the light of a flickering lamppost. He’d lost hope; there was nowhere he could hide from the horrors overrunning the city. It was only a matter of time before the creatures of darkness descended on him. His life and even his soul would be at their mercy.
A bright light plummeted from the sky. It slammed into the ground, cracking the pavement. It appeared to be a man. The figure, glowing with power, rose from his superhero-landing pose and put his hands on his hips. His muscles bulged through a gray and white, skintight suit with a cape that fluttered in the wind. A mask concealed his identity, but confidence resided in his steely gray eyes.
Who was that masked man? Was he there to save the pathetic man-boy? Would he rid the city of the phantom menace? That man – that hero – was me.
My awe-inspiring entrance should have put Shawn at ease, but only dismay registered on his face. I hid my disappointment and joined him in the light that barely warded away the darkness.
“Hope is not lost, young man,” I said in my best superhero voice; I was committed. “We can still save this world, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”
“It’s over. Nothing can fix this.”
I stifled a sigh. This was going to take longer than I thought. Even though time moved slower in a soul, I hoped Cara wasn’t about to tear my body apart while I was messing around in Shawn’s head. I returned to the task at hand.
“It is never too late to make a difference, young man.”
“Monsters are real. I’m going to die. Everyone’s going to die.” He curled further into a ball, tightening his grip around his legs. A sense of foreboding caused me to look around. Wails echoed through the buildings around us. Flapping sounds were getting closer. Fear threatened to creep into me, but I batted it away.
“Monsters may be real — young man… I have to come up with something better than--" I coughed. “But we have the power to stop them!” I said. My words didn’t have the effect I’d hoped. When he turned his head to look at me, his face was contorted in terror, and he was on the verge of crying.
His voice cracked as he said, “It’s too late.”
Four wraiths rounded a building, spotting us. They wore tattered gray cloaks, and the contents of their hoods were cast in shadow. I’ll admit, they were scary looking, but there were only four of them.
I realized too late that my thoughts had betrayed me. The pressure of a hundred more shadowy eyes bore down on us from every direction.
“Oh, death…”
The ghastly figures surged toward us. I grabbed Shawn’s hand and dragged him to a storefront. I committed further to my role by smashing through a battered wooden door. Everyone knows superheroes never use doorknobs.
Wraiths flew through the entrance and crashed through the display windows in pursuit. I raised a palm in their direction and a forcefield formed a dome around Shawn and me. He pressed his back against the checkout counter while a continuous stream of shadows pelted the barrier.
“This is my fault,” he said hiding his face. “I thought I was ready. I thought I could show off what I’d learned. I was given this power, but the only thing I’m capable of is not killing myself.”
I closed my eyes in frustration. I was wearing tights, which because I was thinking about them, started to chafe; I was holding back a barrage of shadow monsters; and there was another one determined to kill me in the real world, probably descending on me at that very moment. I was about ready to tear out of Shawn’s world with any energy I could grab; death help his soul.
I sighed. No. I couldn’t- wouldn’t do that. Not ever. Not even to Shawn. I opened my eyes and turned to him.
“You’re more capable than you realize,” I said, holding back my disdain for the kid. “You have nothing to prove.” But he wasn’t having it and it seemed like my words caused him to actually lose confidence; the forcefield flickered and a couple shadows entered.
They swiped at me with ghoulish claws, but before their attack could land, I yelled, “Justice Kick!” and disintegrated them with my super-karate skills.
“I have to prove it to myself,” Shawn said, as if he hadn’t just witnessed one of my special moves.
I blinked and we were suddenly standing atop a sunny white overlook. Snow-peaked mountains replaced wraith-infested clouds and a ski lift with empty carriages ran up and down a hill nearby. A sign bearing two black diamonds marked the slope ahead.
Three people in ski gear stood next to me. I shivered, then sighed in relief as a periwinkle blue snow suit appeared on me. When my matching grandma mobile popped into existence, skiing down the slope, I took a deep breath and it disappeared. Thankfully, nobody noticed.
“C’mon Shawn, let’s just do a different hill,” a man with mismatching jacket and pants said. “A few words aren’t worth your life; you have nothing to prove.” I winced at the identical phrasing to what I said moments before.
“He’s right. I was out of line,” a man with a Southern accent said. “I was trashed and didn’t mean it.” He had an impressive maple-colored porn-stache, his suit hinted at a fetish for camo, and he reeked of pine. A few Christmas trees appeared behind me.
For devil’s sake…
“Don’t tell me you guys are pussing out,” Shawn said with his signature cocky grin. He wore a black and red parka-ski pants combo with reflective black goggles rimmed with red. His blonde hair peaked out of a black beanie marked by the red logo of some brand I’d never heard of. Matching the rest of his ensemble, black boots fastened into red and black skis.
Wow, so cool… I bet he drives a black and red sports car too. I just managed to prevent it from appearing among the trees.
“You talk shit, make a bet, then back out like cowards?” Shawn asked. I was having a hard time and barely stopped myself from conjuring my mom to admonish him for swearing.
“Yep, we’re cowards. You win. You’ve proven you’re a badass,” the camouflaged pornstar wannabe said. I tensed but kept it together. “Look, we’ve been skiing the whole time we’ve been here. Why don’t we head back to the lodge, have a few beers, and find us some company?”
“No,” Shawn replied. I could sense the anger that flared within him as if it were mine. “I’m going to show you that I’m more than my father’s son. I’m my own man.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he pushed off down the slope. I felt the false confidence envelope his wounded pride as he weaved through trees like a wolf chasing a rabbit.
I hate to admit it but watching that black and red bullet speeding down the mountain was quite impressive – until I felt trepidation.
He approached a rocky section with a massive drop. As it drew near, everything slowed.
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The back of one of his skis clipped the edge, sending him flipping forward. Everything became blurry and only Shawn existed. He plummeted down the hill, and I shared in his overwhelming terror as the bright snow became a dark void. My body disappeared and I was somewhere else.
It hurt everywhere, then the pain faded. I felt bouts of pounding, then a jolt. A chuff, chuff, chuff came from above, then wind buffeted me. I was being moved. Pain and voices. There was an annoying tone with a blip, blip, blip, then silence. A shock and pain, another beep. The pattern repeated several times, until a cold darkness crept in.
“Time of death…”
A woman’s sob nearby, then it drifted. I was still there, but not. It was like I was far away, but still in the room. The sensations of my body were gone, but I could still feel.
I saw warm, comforting light ahead as if I was looking through a third eye into another place. It coalesced into a doorway that pulled me toward it. I knew that on the other side was love and acceptance, and I longed for it. It looked to be a distance away, but I’d make it there with time.
A bright flash and another light appeared behind me. Beyond the new doorway, however, was pain and heartache. It was where I’d just been. I didn’t want to go back.
The gravity of both paths pulled in equal measure. I willed myself toward the loving light, and it seemed like I was going to make it, but my hopes were dashed when the other brightened.
A flame, then another, then several more appeared around it. Wind blew the fire into a flowing river with fairies dancing on the ground around it. The flecks of light guided it toward me, around me, until I was enveloped by it. I fought with everything I had, but I was dragged back.
My senses returned: the acrid stench of white, the annoying beep hitting me, the blinding taste of sterile sweat. It was confusing, but the pain - the pain was clear. However, it was lessening.
My perspective shifted and I was standing over Shawn in my white dress shirt and tie. He was lying in a hospital bed, bandages encompassed most of his body. I remembered being there, looking down at his corpse and feeling a bit bad about stopping for coffee; probably could have made it there before he died, but whatever.
Doctors, nurses, and his parents stood in a circle around me. The two people on the ends had their hands pressed against my back while I rested mine on Shawn’s chest. I pulled back his soul, filled it with energy, and healed his body. I removed my hands from his chest and smiled. His eyes opened, revealing the dull gray irises that came with returning from the grave.
“Welcome to your second chance,” I said.
His mother, Mrs. Ellison broke the circle, rushing to Shawn’s side, while Mr. Ellison stood there in disbelief.
When I had asked him and the medical staff to join hands, they were reluctant, but when Shawn’s mother insisted that they all participate in a final prayer, they were ensnared. “Nah, I’m good,” isn’t an appropriate response to a grieving mother after watching her son die. Now, they all gaped, their eyes darting between me, the heart monitor, and the bed.
Oblivious to the scene, Shawn spoke, “I thought nothing could hurt me. I could do anything. Everyone wanted to be my friend. I was special. Then I started to notice something. Most of my conversations had nothing to do with me.”
The hospital room faded, and we were at a lavish party on a patio behind a huge mansion. There were servers carrying trays with bubbling champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Shawn was beside me, Mr. Ellison next to him, and a man with a white beard and thick mustache stood in front of us. Everyone wore suits.
“They would say,” Shawn started, but the next words came out of the fancy Santa’s mouth, “You’re a chip off the old block!”
A rotund woman with wrinkles hidden under thick makeup turned toward us, she spoke primly, “I bet you can’t wait to follow in your father’s footsteps.”
Another woman, much younger and more attractive with her hair up and wearing a sensuous dress, jumped on the bandwagon. “I bet you’ll look as good as your father when you get older.” She winked at Mr. Ellison, who replied to the gesture with a hungry grin.
Attention returned to Shawn. “Even my friends were the same.”
The two skiers appeared in their suits.
“Can you get your dad to pay?”
“Will your dad let us take his jet?”
Shawn spoke again, “I wasn’t special. My dad was, and I was just an extension of him. I hadn’t achieved anything without his money and connections. Everything was handed to me. He probably even paid people to be friends with me.”
I was no longer paying attention. Instead, I was whispering to myself in disbelief, “His family has a jet? He made me pay for Benny’s Burgers last week because he conveniently forgot his wallet.”
Shawn and other people were talking, but I was staring skyward, gripping my chin with a contemplative expression. A plane plummeted toward the mansion and a cheeseburger appeared in my hand.
“Unholy crap!” I shouted. Shawn turned toward me with clenched teeth. I froze, as if I was a marble statue of a guy hiding something other than a burger behind his back. A pedestal rose beneath me to further my attempt to blend into the backyard’s display of wealth. His eyes narrowed, but an incredible boom caused everyone to spin toward the house. I winced.
A wave of heat rolled over us sending us to the ground. Shawn sat up wide-eyed. I remained on the ground pinching the bridge of my nose and sighing. I thought it was over, but to my surprise, the patio beneath me became carpet, the massive pyre was now confined to an extravagant a fireplace, and the sunny backyard had turned into a dimly lit study. Shawn sat on a sofa with a bottle of Herb’s whiskey next to him. I thought I recognized the face for the brand, but that was impossible; I wasn’t old enough to drink.
“I wanted to prove that I was more than merely my father’s son. I took bigger risks; tried to show off; started a few businesses – but none of it mattered. No one even noticed.” Shawn turned to an open doorway. His father came in with an angry expression, his tie loosened. “He would yell at me, saying I was stupid and spoiled.” The two words were also spat from Mr. Ellison’s lips. Shawn’s face betrayed nothing of his feelings, he turned back to the fire and took a swig from the bottle.
“I was nothing more than an embarrassment. When things got too hard, I’d give up and need to be bailed out of the situation.” He chuckled. “They didn’t even know I was on that ski trip.”
We shifted to him being wheeled out of the hospital by Mrs. Ellison. As they went through the doors, his father became visible. He held a limo door open while talking on the phone. Shawn’s face colored with anger.
“No. It was his fault that I was there, and it was his fault that I died.” His snarl softened. A moment passed and his entire face fell. “That’s a lie. Life had become too hard, so I gave up on that too.”
The symbolism of Shawn’s world was coming into focus. The lack of hope, living in shadow, even my appearance showing up as a savior. Obviously, the soul-sucking monsters were from Cara’s influence, but the inability to escape was how he viewed his whole life.
Then we were in, what looked like, Shawn’s bedroom. It was huge. There were posters of scantily clad women plastered on the walls. A new computer sat on an ornate, hand-crafted desk; a handful of other computers sat on the floor next to it. One of them had a deep crack along the middle of the case, likely slammed against something and immediately replaced. There was a table in front of a couch with a bong sitting in the middle of it.
“When I got home from the hospital, I started to notice a buzzing, tingling sensation. It was faint, but I could feel it somewhere deep inside me. It was like a light that I couldn’t see. I kept looking for it, until finally it exploded out. My whole body glowed; I was overflowing with it.” He was staring at his hands with an ugly smile, then spoke in a maniacal fervor, “It was real. I had power. Real power. I was special.”
He gritted his teeth and smashed a side table. “But I should have known better. When I tried to bring out that light, do something with it, it didn’t respond. Then it started bleeding out of me. It was slow at first, but then it started coming faster and faster until I blacked out. When I came to, I tried not to think about it. That worked for a while, but then it started happening without me doing anything. I felt overwhelmed and trapped — again.”
“It was only when I saw Jesse’s stupid billboard that I remembered.”
Low blow, dude.
“He had powers too. I could just get him to teach me, then I could finally show people what I was capable of.”
He sounded like a villain plotting revenge. The hate tainting his energy was the buzzing sensation he felt. It was the manifestation of his power.
All emotions can be plotted on a circle like dots on a chart. The basic emotions, happy, mad, sad, and fear are like the x and y axis, splitting the circle into four quadrants. The placement on the chart is a specific emotion, with the distance from the center dictating the intensity of those feelings, from anxious to terrified or kind of down to absolute despair.
Every person, at any given time, can be placed as a point on the circle based on how they’re feeling. However, the essence of who they are resides there as a shape, whether it be a circle, triangle, square, or whatever; their shape outlines their personality.
For most, none of that really matters, but for those with magic, it’s incredibly important. Their shape dictates their affinity and strength with the type of magic that coincides with their emotions. Al, my mentor, for example, is just a dot, but that dot lies on the very edge of anger and that led to a nickname: The Rage Mage.
Shawn was still staring at his hands but sitting on my old couch instead of his bed. We were in my apartment, and it actually had furniture and decorations in it. My ex-girlfriend sat next to him. She was pre-occupied with her phone, but occasionally peeked up at him. He didn’t seem to notice.
“It was hard at first and I struggled, but I wasn’t going to give up this time. Finally, there was something I could do that no one else could. I really was special, and it was me, all me. I would do it all on my own,” he said. Shawn looked up from his hands and over at my ex who blushed when he smiled and winked at her. “Well, Jesse helped a little, I guess.”
I narrowed my eyes at the exchange. Did they…? That son of a zombified female dog.
He stood up and walked out of the apartment. Apparently, in his mind, my door led right out to his convertible. He walked around it and lofted himself over the door into the driver seat. I was fuming, but I got in by opening the passenger door, and sitting down like a proper adult. He turned the key and the engine roared. We accelerated down the street.
“Come to think of it, Jesse treats me differently than everyone else. I guess that makes sense since I’m his only friend. He even put his faith in me to handle the job with the hot dead girl, but just like everything else in my life, I fucked it up.” I couldn’t control myself anymore, so I took control.
“Language!” I shouted. Shawn flinched and looked over at me.
Darkness fell on the drive and the nightmarish world returned. He was once again sitting on the floor with his back against the counter and I was in my superhero suit with wraiths crashing into my forcefield.
Before I could chastise him further, his eyes cast downward, and he clenched his jaw. The fear he displayed from the last time we’d been there had been replaced with contempt. However, he held it, not for his father, but for himself. I had a path to exploit.
I took my mask off and threw it to the floor.
“You disgust me. Everything that’s happened to you is your own fault. You’re the only one to blame for the situation we’re in. If we die, it’s because of you.” He brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs again. “You wouldn’t listen to me and had no idea what you were doing. Now our lives are in jeopardy, and for what? Because you wanted to show daddy that you were a big boy? Well, guess what — he can’t bail you out this time. It’s up to me to save you.” I gave that a second to sink in. “Now. We’re out of time. Just let me handle everything so you don’t screw anything else up.”
He mumbled under his breath, then quietly said, “Fine.” The utterance must have been sufficient permission to take what I needed because I felt the restrictions lift. I grinned.
I turned back to the phantoms and snapped my fingers. The forcefield vanished and the oncoming hoard accelerated toward us. My hand, still extended, acted like a spiritual vacuum, sucking them up.
The dilapidated building exploded away when I rose my arm over my head. My hand suction expanded to include all of the darkness in the city. It condensed into a small, glowing yellow-orange ball. I closed my fist around it and turned back to Shawn. He stared back, seemingly confused by the sudden disappearance of the negative emotions that I’d taken from him. I shook my head, turned, stomped down the street, and out of his madness.
I left Shawn World with an immense amount of abhorrence-flavored energy. I hated Shawn; I hated the Hasbrooks; and I hated those bird plates. Despite the hate-filled power I was overflowing with, the sensations that wracked my body returned. A rush of hunger, pain, and nausea flooded me, but were instantly washed away by the torrent of loathing I carried.
My vision came into focus, but the only things in it were milky white eyes and an open maw lined with bloody teeth.