Story - Lost in Time

In the image of the eye…
Sights are seen…
Spiralling.

Muffled thumping intrudes upon my solitude.

‘What’s this thing?’
‘Looks like a piece of glass to me.’
‘Nah, look at the thing. There’s a depth in the colour you don’t get with glass. Some type’a gemstone, I bet.’

These voices pull at me; snaring my attention away from the vortex I’d been staring into for as long as I could remember. All around is darkness; only the glimmering of the vortex beneath me provides any context at all. With my mind temporarily released, I strive to focus on the voices. Where are they coming from? But then, where am I? It seems strangely important, but for the life of me I can’t think why.

‘If that’s a gemstone, it must be worth a mint! Look at the size of it.’

Look beyond the eye…
All will be seen…
Illuminating.

The voices are becoming clearer. I’ve never heard them before, but I know who they belong to. Out of the black, faint images take form. As they appear, I can see that I’m drifting and peering over their shoulders. My vision still isn’t normal, everything seems foggy and distorted. Three people. One woman and two men. Two pale and one dark. A series of minor physical details.

I can feel their thoughts. They reach out to me like ribbons of smoke and light, slowly gaining substance. I can hold them and feel them. As I caress them, I know them. I can move them. I can twist and distort them.

I know this but don’t know how I know this.

One of them is holding the stone, and I can see his thoughts now, solidifying like branches around a tree trunk, yet in constant motion. The other two remain as wisps of smoke, but I can still hold onto them if needed. Right now I don’t have a need, as I have my new friend (…Jeremy…) holding onto the stone. That is important now, and I need him to think so as well. His thoughts are mired in the moment, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

…is it too late to convince them it’s glass…
…how valuable is it …
…she’s so frail I don’t know how she would survive without me…
…why is she looking at him like that…

Multiple thought branches to choose, to change the moment. I start feeding the threads of jealousy, then splicing and twisting them into the greed for the stone. I feel like an artist, a sculptor. The light blending seamlessly with the grey of my insertions.

I can’t help but chuckle as the poor frail girl (…Leslie…) hits the ground. All the love in the world won’t stand in the way of Jeremy’s new-found passion for greed.

‘You want him! You can have him then! I’m sick of watching you eye him off all day!’

The stone vanished into a pocket. Devious. All this aggression as a distraction. And now we’re alone; I think it’s time I had the stone myself, no more middle-man. I reach for it, but to no avail. I can’t grasp it. This doesn’t make sense, and I hesitate. Why can’t I touch the things Jeremy can touch? But then, why can I see his thoughts and twist them to my heart’s content?

Look within the eye…
Darkness trapped…
Scheming.

NO! Understanding floods back and I know where I am. The vortex enthrals my mind, ensnares my will. Through the machinations of man I was never again destined for human company; yet here I am. The stone is my prison, and I have been contained within while civilisations have risen and gone, viewing the world only as a spectator. Still, I am not entirely impotent. I was imprisoned because of my control of the thoughts of men. Were their wills stronger I would struggle to manipulate them, but most are like cobwebs, and collapse at my merest touch.

Jeremy is mine now. With this fresh understanding of my situation, I can take steps to ensure it moves towards my release from this accursed rock! I set to Jeremy’s thoughts with a new purpose, entirely stripping away most of his own lighter thoughts, and inserting grey tendrils of distortion. Uninterrupted quiet is what I want for this mental renovation, so I search his mind for a refuge, and find it in an isolated water-supply dam.

I am nearly able to complete my work in the calmness before being interrupted. His two companions have followed us, accompanied now by a third. From the minds of all I can see the descriptive word on prominent display; police. They move in around me, and I stretch out to snare their thoughts. With a small twist and deletion here and there, they should leave us alone forever.

Wait! How did she get the rock?! I have already stopped the two males, leaving them stupidly standing looking at the water. I’m clutching at threads of thought and frantically weaving in both of them simultaneously; quite an achievement considering the limitations of my prison. Jeremy and Leslie are scrabbling for the rock, and the precariousness of my situation is not lost on me.

As they lose their footing and fumble the stone, I am dragged away from Jeremy. The stone flies to the dam wall, bouncing slowly, the sunlight refracting through the facets one last dazzling time, before it hits the water’s surface. I know I haven’t been with Jeremy long enough for my influence to last, and gradually my grey weavings will fall away from his awareness. Without human thoughts to draw me from my prison, the vortex will again snare my mind. My perception sinks into the dark sludge of the dam floor, following the stone. I briefly wonder what the world will look like next time I surface, and how long it has been since I roamed freely.

Look out from the eye…
Indifferent time …
Eternally.

Constructive criticism welcome.

© 2007 Damian Herde

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surreal, writing, fantasy, horror, shortstory, magic, story, short, demon, writers, critique, control, forcritique, vortex and gem