Coming Home

 Walking along the dimly lit street back toward his house. The glow from his cell phone was the only forward-facing illumination, as he held it tightly in his hand.

At 23 years old he was a young man. He never got scared now, not like when he was a child. No longer was he afraid of the dark or the noise from some unknown location. He laughed at horror films and their silly jump scares. He had slain thousands of demons and countless zombies on his computer and game console.

But something wasn’t right. Something in the air seemed to linger and it had weight.

It appeared to follow him like a cloud of negativity as he continued his journey.

It evidently didn’t matter if the street was brightly or dimly lit. The presence wasn’t visible, but he could feel it. Its menacing intensity was ever-constant.

Gradually as he got closer to home he felt it descend and warp around him like a cloak, it began to permeate his very body. Oozing and seeping into his mind.
Like a slow-soaking possession.

His thoughts turned from getting home and seeing his parents, something he’d always kept brief, to be “cool”, although, secretly he still adored them.

He’d wanted to see his dog, his true best friend, hold and gently squeeze him as he fought off his unconditional bounding love and lustrous licks.

He’d also wanted food, he’d been starving!

But all those thoughts of home, comfort, and love had vanished.

He didn’t even feel hungry anymore.

It all seemed like a distant memory clouded in the fog that now engulfed him, it all seemed irrelevant and pointless.

As he assessed his situation he realized that actually he felt nothing at all or nothing that was familiar to him at least.

He knew one thing.

He couldn’t return home like this, it felt wrong, almost dangerous.

He wondered if he should continue on past his house or turn back in the direction he came.

No sooner had he thought the thought than he felt the pulling. Something was tugging at the centre of his very being. It wanted to drag him away and back from where he had come.

He had to leave and go back the way he had come, it no longer even seemed like a choice.

Turning and beginning his journey back along the familiar streets and past various buildings, the alleyways that seemed darker than before that led onto the next street.

Strangely, he started to feel that this was the way back home, to a home that somehow felt more like a home than any other he’d known.

As he continued he saw someone laying on the path. He slowed his approach.

He was filled with concern and panic began to rise in his gut, what had happened? How could he help? Should he call an ambulance?

He could see the dark soles of blue training shoes and the edge of light blue, stonewashed jeans.

His curiosity and his panic greatly increase, painfully spiking in his gut and burning upwards from his core.

This person, this lifeless body was wearing the very same clothes as him….he slowed even further but gently neared.

He recognized the black hoodie with the embroidered logo…

Holding his breath and almost too afraid to look, tentatively he glanced up at the face.

Something else began to happen, the darkness that had entered him became lighter, he could feel it as it stayed within him but almost had buoyancy. He could now taste it, like lavender and vanilla, sweet on his tongue.

He could now even see it, glowing inside and around him.

It had turned from an ominous black to a vibrant purple, filled with fierce amber flames and electric flashes of gold and silver.

He continued moving his gaze upwards and eventually looked at the face. It was him, there was no doubt.

With an expression of anguish and pain across his face and blood and trauma to his head.

Skin clinging to the shattered bone, contrasted by the darkness of dried blood. Deeper into the wounds, the flesh was still moist and viscous, still just about liquid, blood, glistened across his torn muscle and sinew.

One eye had burst like a ball of jelly, exploding and imploding across his cheek, or what was left of it. His upper jaw and teeth were visible with jagged flashes of white where they’d broken and come loose.

But he felt no anguish, pain, or even discomfort now.

Only the dancing flickering and tickling of the energy inside him as the cloud began to vibrate and excite.

He realized and remembered in a flash like a vivid nightmare played in an instant that at this moment he’d been killed in a violent attack and death had entered him like an unwelcome guest.

He’d tried to flee and go on as normal, maybe the swiftness and brutality of the moment had distracted him, perhaps it had been denial, or more likely it was a combination of both.

But now that he had returned and accepted his end, his end to this particular journey at least.

Death was alive and dancing inside of him and was ready to lift his soul to the next realm or the next dimension.

So that he could continue his many journeys.

With this thought, the vitality of death embraced him, it shook his sense of mortality away and lifted him upwards.

His soul, spirit, and being became elated and excited as he ascended toward his celestial exit.

An exploding vision of burning desire and infinite potential.