Few people know that before he was invited to join the Shinzol Division, Thomas Kei was once a Supernatural Investigator, and trained under a Taoist Exorcist for a time in addition to various other paranormal pandits.
In the town of Alque, where few now reside, between a graveyard of uncounted trees, along a coastline that breathes a lonely sigh, there remains the original purpose of the town: the Old Telegraph Station. Did you know? In daylight it is a tourist attraction, an abandoned pile of bricks slowly being smothered by the sand, resonating with Ozymandias himself- after walking from the town, and finally arriving as the ambience of evening grey is cast by sleepy skies, and I do look upon the vestiges of the works conducted here, and despair.
Any place or object can become a housing for the spiritual energies of human existence, which seeps from people and accumulates in the environment. This place was no different, and I had sensed a disturbance here ever since I arrived in the town, although strictly speaking it did not seem haunted. After mediating for some time, I pinpointed the source of uneasiness to the ruins of the telegraph station. Worthy of investigation, but nothing that would suggest a malicious entity trapped. So tonight, after calculating the right moment of the right time, as the moon was in its waxing gibbous phase, I determined that the veil between the spirit world and the physical one would be most stable between 7-8pm, and if I wanted to make contact with the disturbance, I should go and set up my seals and runes once the sun set. The fact that it was not set for midnight, as hauntings typically are, was further evidence that the disturbance was not a haunting.
It was cool now, getting cooler, and the chill of the sea breeze caressed my hair as fickle lover, gently at times, with the occasional wild and spiteful tantrums. I was still calm, though I was getting restless, especially once the night claimed day, and the stars, brighter than any in the city sky, only offered a faint twinkle.
As I mentioned, the ruins are half covered in sand, and the ‘walls’ were no longer any form of shelter. After changing into my robes, I drew the signs in the sand, allowing me to establish a ward, and anchor my spirit in case of emergencies. Using my collection of hexagram coins, which are uniquely bonded to my energy, I resonated with the corresponding vibrations. Then I start to hum, and chant, and attune myself to the point where I could harmonise with the ambience, and semi immerse myself between the realms. It did not take long, this place was accustomed to having tourists, so the sightseeing vibe was strong.
I regret that I can not describe the experience adequately to the uninitiated, for it involves senses that many have not awakened. The Ajna, or 3rd eye, is located on the forehead, and once properly stimulated, will provide the necessary sensory relay to detect paranormal forces. In biology, especially in regards to human origin, the point I am referring to used to be connected to the pineal gland, and marine biologists who studied this in amphibians hypothesized that it was a way for the early ancestors of those species to detect light. That fuzzy tingling between your eyebrows? It’s the vestiges of a time when such senses were necessary for survival, because there was a time, during the Age of Myths, at the Dawn of Human Civilisation, when the paranormal was more relevant than it generally is today. Essentially, modern humans evolved past the need to interact with ‘ghosts’, but they are not entirely gone from the world, at least where people are concerned. Science just reached the point where quantum physics is starting to make more sense mathematically, even though the ancient philosophers were exploring quantum in a holistic sense thousand of years ago. But I am getting distracted, as I attune myself to the frequencies that allow me to gaze into a focal point that blurs temporeality (the state where past, present and future). I speed, then slow, my breathing, and open my eyes.
After-images of the construction, a mirage of consciousness, that is how I interpret what I am witnessing in a physical sense.
It does not take long to ‘taste’ how, over the years, the area was slowly inhabited, built to a place of great significance, and then discarded as obsolete, and now reduced to a mere obscure curiosity. The energy signature of those who built and maintained this place was faint but still present, a testament to the ambient sentience of existence, even in rocks and sands and trees. It spoke of regret, and a crusty resignation to its fate, as relics must come to terms with in time. It understood that I was listening, hearing its story, and it grew placated. I thought that was it, it was done, and I could return. Then it became desperate, and so did I.
I did not realise what the area had noticed as I sat down and meditated- the winds were fickle. Like a new found lover. And I was reminded how quickly sweet passion turns to jealous scorn. I do not quite understand what it was, but the disturbance I felt earlier, it was of an obsessive-compulsive nature, and it occurred to the spirits(?) here that I could communicate with them, and perhaps I would offer them some solace if they kept me here. I sensed no murderous intent, just a loneliness, but it was frightening to feel all the attention of the trapped sentiments bound at this old telegraph station suddenly claw at me, twisting into elemental finger that tore at my soul! And half opening my normal eyes, I saw why they had struck- the winds had blown away part of my seals, traced in the sand, and the candle I had lit to act as a lifeline was flickering. It was no ordinary candle, and wouldn’t go out under normal circumstances. Even the lines in the sand would stay until I was done. But I had forgotten something- this was a telegraph station in the past, carrying messages in the wind. That same wind which now imbued itself with a desire to keep me here, maybe not forever, but for a dangerously long time…
I tried to fight, instinctively! But every time I tried to chant a banishing sutra, the wind would flare and rankle, drowning out my voice and numbing my connection to my Self. My soul was slowly being pulled away from my body, which is not technically painful, but extremely discomforting and disorienting, further dulling my awareness. Soon I would lose myself altogether! I try once again,
“I command you to-!“ The dimly ambient awareness rushed to drown my consciousness; it was actually a powerful combination of earth, air, and water, all adding a distinct impression that threatened to confuse my spiritual bearing! I slowly calm myself as the voiceless cries of beseeching echoes continue to wrestle with me for dominance, and I no longer thrash so wildly in my mental scape. I focus, and channel internal energy to my voice, magnifying it, letting it penetrate through the gushing howls.
“Ghostly beasts and undead beings,
Numbering past a thousand things,
Watching me with your 10 000 eyes!
I see you all, I hear you all,
Be gone at once!
At my command!
Be silent as the grave!
You are dead, while I am one who masters Life and Death,
Unafraid of pitiful shades,
You vex me at your demise!”
The wind was gone, quiet at my scolding. My breathing was a little ragged, but none the worse for wear. I being to shut down my spiritual alignment, to close off my susceptibility to the paranormal. They hold no power over those who do not acknowledge them, and similarly, they grow in strength as you feed their existence. But before the connection is broken off completely, I swear I can hear the faintest chuckling, and I keep my channels lingering for a slight moment, before I become more relieved, and I start to laugh as well. The wind picks up again, ruffling my hair, as if to say “Gotcha!”
Yes, I knew that this place wasn’t a haunting, the disturbance I felt earlier was merely a bored frustration of a grandparent who wished their grandchildren would visit more often. In reality, the ambience here was friendly and actually chill. But as it was Halloween after all, the perfect chance to play a prank on unsuspecting guests. I smile, as I disrobe back into civilian clothes, pack away my belongings, and erase the wards that I had drawn (which were mostly still intact).
I started the walk back, as I sensed a friendly wave goodbye from the area, inviting me to come back again sometime. Which I would, although maybe next time when the sun was out.
Solosopher & Solosophy 