Not of this World - Finish the Story 22

Astral Echoes

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By @raj808

Rain bounces off the frying pan streets, dowsing the city’s mid-morning swelter. Bangkok on a Monday screams its frenetic cadence into my sleep-stained head as I leave my apartment for the breakfast of kings. A hastily wolfed helping of Khao Neow Moo Ping and I’m on my way. This meeting is important for my continued livelihood. A prominent business man is convinced he’s beset by demons. 'Fung shui gone wrong', the words of his PA echo in my memory as I hail a tuk tuk and jump in.

“Sa wat dee”. I greet the driver as I scramble into the cramped cabin.

It is advisable to enter your tuk tuk promptly as the never ending stream of scooters can sweep you out and away at a moment’s notice. I’ve seen a tuk tuk's door taken off by one of these suicidal bikers before now.

“Sathon Nuea road please.” Pulling off into traffic, I find myself staring into the frantic smog choked kaleidoscope that is Bangkok. Five lanes of traffic jostle for position as scooters whiz between them, reckless of traffic lights, wobbling with giggling teenage passengers stacked three apiece. The salt-singed smell of frying shrimp and coconut oil mingles with diesel fumes as I sit back into the sticky red foe leather and consider what I know about this particular clients Astral footprint!

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A room bathed in a dull indigo with a bed by the wall pulsing with ethereal light. A book sits half open on the bedside cabinet, pages twitching in the gentle flow of my aura. Light envelops this scene, green through to red as my aura shifts with the pulse of the indigo ether. I drift over the open book, a single word jumps out of the page like a lightning bolt ‘FATHER’. It seems to echo in my mind like a scream. I glance to my left and my adversary is still moving through the treacle I’ve set in front of him. I still can’t tell whether he’s human! The impossibly wide smile, desperate and hollow speaks to me of one possessed. A soul lost in the astral, then found by one of Them.

BANG, I spin as the wardrobe door slams open and closed over and over. The noise echoes through me as an icy wind spills from the flapping doors. The indigo glow subsides to a dull shimmer as the room darkens and I turn back to my advisory.

He is there right before me. Mouth impossibly wide the teeth icicles and his breath covers me in the stagnant smell of the swamp as my bones numb and my knees give way. I choke as my breath sticks in my throat and the scene fades to night.

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“What are the symptoms Mr Xioin?" His pallid face twitches as I stare into sunken eyes, unblinking, pupils wide. "How do these daemons manifest?”

“The night is where they reside. Between dream and waking. Sometimes I wake from a dream only to be enveloped by a strange light. After, I walk in the wakening world, around my apartment and... everything is enlivened." He breathes in short gasps as he talks. "It’s as if everything has a soul, the lamp, my leather chair even the books call out there stories, words that wash through me like fire." His head dips and rests in the palm of his hands. "There is no rest”

“Go on...” I lower my voice as I watch his body shivering in the pain of memory.

“Then there are the dreams that seem to be reflections of my life. I'm working at the company, except it’s like I’m looking over my own shoulder as someone else performs my daily routine. I’m convinced I’m awake until I actually wake and it feels as if I’ve never slept at all." He stares into my eyes, pupils contracting back to a normal size for the first time since I’ve been here. "Can you help me?”

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My heart strains against my chest as I struggle to close my third eye, a dull ache in the center of my forehead. He smiles like a clown, an open wound across his face, mocking me. White mists swirl around us as a landscape forms in the astral firmament, his mind superimposing a tapestry in the space between dimensions. I look around searching for any clue to his nature. Any clue that will help me to defeat him.

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Not of this World

(by me)

The impossibly smiling face is there, in front of me, challenging. The knick-knacks splash into the changing auras as if the apartment were hit by a kaleidoscopic typhoon. Despite the pulsating pain behind my forehead, I try to look into the Astral Plane.

The spirit moves towards a desk, which vibrates tremendously. The lock snaps, the drawer explode, papers burst out.

I can see flashing 'FATHER' again, hovering over the papers.

With a huge effort, I close the third eye. I read the papers: acts of ownership of a building and a commercial license in the district of Patpong.

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Patpong Soi 2 opens in front of me, the neons hiccup in the twilight. The unfailing sultry shower doesn’t take away from my shirt the sweat smell of a thousand of human sardines in the Skytrain trip.

The address corresponds to a tawdry go go bar. As I enter, a burly western tourist hits me and curses: "Scheisse!" His breath is a whiff of Sang Som and soda. I see the girls on the stairs already, inside there are everywhere.

They stand still near the counter, or sit at the tables. They wait with absent eyes and painted smiles, young and little dressed, that Westerners stop drinking and approach. A group of Italians is eyeing and nudging, looking a little shameful.

A girl approaches me, I meet her eyes, an abyss. I realize that she’s not a woman, he’s a preadolescent boy. He thinks I'm a customer, he doesn’t understand when I suddenly leave. He murmurs: "daddy...".

My head is spinning, I feel a retch, I cling to the counter. The barman, a little threatening, asks me: "Are you all right?"

I nod, but it's no right at all. There is a suffocating, deadly aura. The first thought is to shout, to smash everything; the second one is to call the police.

The police... no need to call it. It’s already here: an agent empties his Thai whiskey and gets up from the table that he occupied with nonchalance, the barman is whispering something to him, they look at me.

I go out quickly.

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"All right Mr. Xioin! It wasn’t easy to rebalance the Feng Shui of your apartment, and a proper ceremony was needed. Don’t forget to put every night three lighted incense sticks and a bowl of rice in the shrine near the entrance, and hereafter you will sleep peacefully. Now, regarding my payment... "

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"Three days!"

The smiling, deformed face stares at me. Teeth like needles. Empty eyes.

"I know you can understand me. Three days, I ask you... I need him to pay me, for living, do you understand? "

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Fifty 1000 baht notes are a nice package in my pocket, while greeting cordially. Mr. Xioin, still pale but more relieved, smiles at me as he closes the door. Behind him, I see the jagged smile of the spirit, which seems to widen to swallow up the whole apartment.

Three days.

Justice is not of this world.

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This is my entry for the week #22 of the awesome contest held by @f3nix: Finish the Story, and earn Steem Basic Income Shares. This week, the first part of the story is provided by the gifted @raj808.
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Thank you for reading!

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