This better be good, he thought as he walked through the mud. It had to be, if it was going to justify everything he had gone through. Selling my house, my car, secretly transferring all of my savings to off-shore bank accounts – That was one thing. He continued to walk among the many other uniformed figures painstakingly following the slow, almost still stream of cold water. But waking me up at four in the morning and making me get my feet wet and my sneakers dirty with no explanation? No amount of faith would make this acceptable and I don’t have much to begin with.

Source: @tinypaleokitchen

They followed the stream upriver until the Master Planewalker told them to stop. The ground around this part of the river was considerably less muddy than the road there.

“It is here that we will conduct the final ritual – The summoning of the door. Today, all those days of training and sacrifice will bear fruit”.

Yeah, man, sure. None of what you said would happen ever has in the past, and all you do is walk around and chant gibberish to no effect whatsoever. It had been like that ever since they arrived at the Master’s homestead. He’d take them somewhere isolated, say some grand phrases straight out of The Hobbit and then start his useless chanting. However, no other time had it been in a place as cold as this one. There was no wind, yet somehow his body temperature dropped far faster than during any of the cold, windy nights he’d experienced at the homestead so far. How is such a temperature variation even possible? It was simply -

“Drink some tea, it’ll warm you up.”

“Yes, sure, thank you.”

He accepted even though he hated tea. She poured some from an old timey Thermos into a small plastic cup and handed it to him. I can’t say no to those eyes. It always happened. She’d come offer tea, he’d accept because he was the kind who stopped functioning around girls he found cute, then he’d have to find a way to discreetly get rid of the little cup or its contents. This time, however, he felt compelled to drink the steamy beverage both by his almost-shivering body and her intense gaze, adhered to him from the moment she handed him the cup. Damn, this had never happened. Did they realize I always get rid of it? He drank the bitter liquid and was left to marvel at her swaying hips as she walked away triumphantly, before continuing to hand out hot tea.

Around twenty minutes must have gone by since he drank the tea. I knew it wouldn’t help me too much, but I almost feel like the thing made my temperature drop further. It simply wasn’t worth it – None of it was. He’d always been a lover of the occult, searching far and wide for paranormal and magical experiences. He’d done tarot, gone to haunted houses, attended Wicca rituals and even dabbled in santeria. Even so, he had yet to see the first ghost or feel the effects of any magic potion. This was natural, as none of this was backed by science in any way. He was a skeptic, and he knew that, but he just couldn’t give up hope that there was something after this world. He couldn’t cope with the constant feeling of dread that slowly sliding towards his eventual demise gave his heart, so he desperately looked for ways to convince himself that heaven or hell awaited him after the event horizon of death. One of these days I’ll get myself killed pursuing shady leads to an afterlife. I already got myself into a cult, I don’t think I can fall much further before I go off the deep end.

He suddenly noticed the Master’s boring old chanting... Or is it? He’d probably been at it for a while already, but something was beginning to change. He started hearing the hymns, noticing a certain charm they didn’t have before. They flowed from his mouth into the sky and the ground and the trees, making them breath it in and come to life. Is this… He felt engulfed by the sound, submerged in it, making it the only thing he seemed to be able to focus on at the time. He started chanting along, as had the others before him. He suddenly felt colder, the wind blew through him, taking the heat, taking the tension. He could see the perfect reflection of the dancing treetops on the clear surface of the still river. But that’s im- Then he saw it. The intense colors, the ever-changing patterns on the sky, the elfish creatures running around and inviting him in. Did we do it? Was the door summoned? There was another world through the still river, there had always been.

At that moment, he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Dawn had come. He lifted his gaze and saw himself looking back. The warmth was his own, as was the cold. He was around and inside him. He understood now. He looked back at the river. He saw the elfish creatures extending their hands towards him. He was on his knees beside the river. The water grew turbulent as the others transcended to the other plane. Little waves splashed against his knees and made him feel as if dissolving into the water.

He reached inside and grabbed the slender hands that would guide him into the afterlife.

Source: nastyKEMical via Flickr

Afterword

Hallo, steemers! I hope everyone had a great weekend like I did. After weeks of much stress and heavy anxiety regarding several things, I was able to go on a little nature getaway with some friends and unwind a little. Once I got back I felt ready to take on the world, and that's exactly what I've been doing... well, after taking the rest of the weekend off too, haha!

Maybe I'll upload some pictures of the trip on another post later in the week.

What you just finished reading is my entry into @gmuxx's 4th Art Prompt Writing Contest, in which he takes the winner of a previous photography contest and makes it into a writing prompt. Pretty cool if you ask me! Which is why I've become a repeat participant. Like last time, competition seems really tough. I specially like @michelle.gent's entry, in part because she totally had the same idea as me but wrote faster (and probably better), so I had to rethink the whole thing. Go check it out!

See you in another post!