Intangible - Chapter 4

8/3/2019 Intangible - Chapter 4

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Intangible

Chapter 4 – The Journey

Troy was still kicking himself for jumping in neck deep without trying to get a better idea

of what exactly had happened to him in Marcia’s room. Honestly, he hadn’t believed he hadreally left his body and floated off to meet this Laura. He had figured that it had been the alcohol

messing with his mind, or that somebody had slipped something dodgy into the blue cocktail in

the computer science lounge. To put his hungover mind at ease, he had decided he would prove

to himself once and for all that it had been some ridiculous fabrication of his imagination. He

would do this by repeating the prior night’s experiment while sober. When it didn’t work, he

had told himself, he would settle in to nursing his nauseous belly and throbbing head in the hopes

of getting some studying done later in the day.

He had positioned himself on the floor, legs crossed and eyes closed, and begun the silly

breathing exercises that Marcia had taught him. After finding that sound again, the one that hadcome to him the night before, he had started repeating it in his head, over and over again.

Perhaps the fact that he was groggy simplified things and had him a little out of touch with

reality to begin with. Maybe once he had breached the spaces beyond the physical it was that

much easier to make a return trip. Troy wasn’t sure. No matter the reason, he had soon been

drifting away from his body, connected only by a single thread, in half the time it had taken him

to do the same the night before.

Being of sober mind that morning, with only the residual hangover to fog his senses,

Troy had been much more aware of his surroundings in that other world. They had been blurry

and psychedelic his first time through, and he had been numb to any discomfort, but this timewas different. As he had raced through the ether, flying without any control, he had noticed

details he had missed on his initial travels. Some of the presences that had whizzed past him

were cloying and had threatened to pull him into them, perhaps never to let go. Others were

horribly intimidating and had made Troy’s heart beat even faster as he rushed by. He had felt

like he was drowning in a sea of other people’s emotions, the combined influx of anxiety,

depression, violence and bliss attacking him from all sides in an overwhelming tide.

Unlike the night before, Troy had not floated freely until he stumbled across Laura.

Having found this place filled with distractions which he hadn’t noticed while intoxicated, he

kept being led off on tangents, tempted away from the route he sort of recognized, but only barely. The more he struggled to relocate Laura, the more wrong turns he seemed to take until

eventually he had lost that path altogether, and even worse, he wasn’t so sure that he could find

his way back either.

While he roamed the ether, he cringed like an errant child trapped in a world many times

bigger than the one from which he had come, shrinking away from anything he couldn’t identify.

Not only had he been desperately frightened, by that point, panicky even, but he had also been



growing weaker than he had been when he had first set off in search of Laura. That was when he

had noticed that the glow of the thread that connected him to his body, wherever that might be,

had gotten fainter. His panic had escalated - a response to the sense of foreboding that

accompanied this realization. Troy had been sure that the change in this thread was a bad thing.

He had been certain that if he couldn’t get back, something terrible would happen.

Troy had never really understood just how easy his life had been until that moment in

time. He had suffered his share of unpleasantness between his parents’ divorce and the financial

repercussions and constant bickering that followed, but he had never known the kind of urgency

that came from being in real trouble, not the kind of urgency that he ended up experiencing as a

result of venturing somewhere potentially dangerous. He was essentially stuck. Or, at least, that

was how it felt to Troy. He truly knew nothing about the place he was or how things worked

there. He was the supernatural equivalent of a toddler teetering out into the middle of a highway,

with no way out without risking becoming psychic road-kill.

Being a typical young man, Troy had never been someone prone to introspection. Henever examined the way he felt about things or questioned why he responded to events the way

that he did. He preferred holding a grudge to openly confronting someone. If things upset him,

he’d go out partying with Matt and drink his sorrows away, rather than trying to resolve his

issues. He didn’t take any of his responsibilities seriously, partially because he was too sheltered

to have to endure the resulting consequences for neglecting them. He didn’t have any of those

options now. He was stranded and he was alone. Never mind helping Laura, he couldn’t even

help himself.

“What do I do?” he pleaded, not to anyone specific. He hoped that he might get some

kind of answer from the multitude of spirits in the void, all somewhere beyond his immediatereach. “All I wanted to do is help her. Am I being punished for that?”

His words echoed aimlessly around him, wasted on deaf ears. None of the souls

surrounding him acknowledged him, or even seemed to notice him. He wondered how he had

managed to connect with Laura the night before. It had seemed easy then, despite being drunk.

Now he was more like the mime in the invisible box, with passers-by purposefully ignoring him.

He had to find someone who shone as bright as that little girl and then he had to force his way

into their space, so they had to take notice. Once he had their attention, he would beg them to

help him, if that’s what it would take.

Pulling together all of the energy that he had left, Troy began his search. He abandoned

his quest for both Laura and the way home for the sake of one that might offer him salvation. He

wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he had a feeling he would recognize it if he found it.

The time that followed - only minutes, but what felt like an eternity - may have been the

worst few moments of his life. An anticipation of certain doom, if he failed to find what he was



looking for, drove Troy even harder. He wanted to see his mom and Matt again. He wanted the

chance to make something of himself.

That was when he saw her, this great shiny beacon drawing him in, so bright that he

almost couldn’t look at her. He questioned why she would be so much more obvious than the

rest of the spirits out there, but he wasn’t about to argue with providence. Clearly, he was meantto find her, and hopefully, she’d be willing and able to help. Now it was just a matter of getting

her to notice him.

Troy didn’t recall any discomfort in manifesting in front of Laura the night before, but

perhaps the alcohol had desensitized him to it. The experience was definitely not enjoyable that

morning. Reaching the beacon woman was not that difficult, it was just a matter of not resisting

her pull, but once he got there, to make himself observable he had to pull himself together when

every inch of him wanted to drift apart. The sensation reminded him of touching something you

knew would give you a static shock over and over again, repeating the discomfort until there was

enough of him there to see. When he was sure that there was a sufficient collection of his presence to be noticed, he tried speaking to her. She beat him to it, with a single word.

“Hello?”

He wished that he could see her better himself, but the glare from her shine was blinding,

and it almost hurt to look at her. Troy averted his gaze as he struggled to respond, fighting a

dizzying disorientation. It reminded him of staring into headlights when a car was headed

straight for you. The words that he finally formed weren’t exactly what he wanted to say, but it

was close enough.

“Where am I? This isn’t where Laura is or home. Why am I here? I was trying to get

back to her, but I got lost. Now I need to get back to me. This is somewhere in between.”

The sound of Troy’s own voice startled him when he spoke. It didn’t actually sound like

it was coming from him, but rather as if it were being channeled in from the spaces all around

him, hollow and echoing. He supposed it wasn’t really his voice, since he had no physical means

of evoking sound present, but something he was somehow generating from whatever stray

energy he could pull in from his surroundings. It replicated what his real voice would sound like

if he were there, to the best of his ability. At least he could communicate with her.

“Wait, wait – what are you talking about? Who are you? What are you? I have no ideawhy you’re here either. Maybe if you start from the beginning and explain, I can help you.

Perhaps we can put you to rest,” she said.

The brilliantly bright woman had heard him and was willing to acknowledge him, even if

what she said in reply didn’t all make sense to Troy. Put him to rest? What did she mean by

that? The confusion and accompanying frustration threatened to disrupt his concentration and he



had to reinforce his efforts to hold himself together, feeling his form flicker and wane. It meant

that he was unable to answer her at first. Once he had restored his focus, he addressed her again.

“You see me, you hear me, and that’s what you have to say? Are you crazy?” He

realized after he spoke it that this was a rhetorical question. Anybody willing to talk to someone

who wasn’t there must be crazy.

“Not crazy, just open-minded. I’m a medium. I was expecting something unusual to

happen today. I was sort of anticipating a real person, though, not a spirit. When did you die?”

Troy wished he could groan and if he had still had eyes, he would have rolled them. He

had gone looking for help and had somehow ended up stumbling in on this kook – he had

actually been drawn to her. And to make matters worse, she took him for a ghost. For a moment

or two he considered himself inevitably doomed, cursing his luck backwards and forwards.

Then, after reflecting properly on his situation, he concluded that she might be exactly what he

needed. He had never been a believer in any paranormal phenomena, but the fact that he wasliving through it, then and there, did suggest he had to change his way of looking at things, and

who better to offer him guidance than someone with who already trusted in such peculiarities.

She might be a flake, but hopefully, she was a knowledgeable one. If they were going to make

any headway, however, he would have to set her straight.

“I am a real person and I’m not dead,” Troy snapped, finding he had much more

difficulty repressing emotion in this form than he normally did. “Or, at least, I wasn’t last time I

checked. I’m not sure what I am, other than lost. Maybe it was because I tried to find her from

my own room instead of Marcia’s, or maybe it didn’t work right because I’m sober this time. I

don’t know. All I know is that I went for looking Laura the same way and got confused en route.When I gave up and tried to work my way back home, I ended up here. I can barely see the

thread anymore that connects me to my body. It’s fading. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

He immediately regretted being so harsh with her, but apparently, this woman was

readily forgiving. She treated him as a welcome guest, rather than a somewhat hostile intruder.

Maybe she was sympathetic to his plight.

“Connecting you to your body? You mean, this is an astral projection?”

She spoke the words as if this fact should have been crystal clear. While the term was

vaguely familiar to him, Troy certainly didn’t know the definition. All of this was one big mindtrip, figuratively as well as literally. He didn’t have a problem confessing his ignorance.

“A what? I don’t know. I have no clue about any of that mumbo jumbo. Trance-y

meditation, mantras, round breathing, none of it makes any sense to me. All I know is that last

night when some friends and I were messing around after we had been drinking, I wandered out

of my body and in the process, I stumbled across a little girl, Laura, who is in a lot of trouble. I



had to try that trance-y thing again today. I wanted to see if I could find her, to make sure it

wasn’t all some drunken hallucination. I managed to make it work – I mean, I’m here like this,

but I couldn’t track her down. I believe she’s real. I know she’s scared and somebody has to

help her. She – she thought I was an angel, coming to rescue her. I can’t just pretend like that

didn’t happen. I can’t abandon her when she needs me.”

Thinking of Laura only made Troy worry about her, remembering how she had been

trapped and had begged him for rescue. He wished he actually had been an angel and capable of

whisking her away from the bad man who had taken her and of carrying her home. How was he

supposed to save her when he couldn’t even manage to make his way back to her? It wasn’t as if

he could figure out exactly where her abductor was keeping her, and even he could, what could

he do about it? He couldn’t touch anything. He couldn’t force is way in, in order to free her, or

to do battle with her kidnapper to help her escape. Nor could he convince anyone, other than the

loony he was currently talking to, that he had really encountered the missing little girl. He was

in a fine bind, tormented by his conscience and yet helpless to act.

“Actually, you could, but I’m glad you’re not going to, if only for her sake.” The woman

inhaled noisily and started to fidget, glancing around the room and into the one beyond the door.

That was when Troy realized that they were in some sort of commercial storeroom and the space

beyond was a shop of some sort. “Hang on,” she continued. “Let me dig up some answers for

you. This is a bit much to swallow all at once. Let’s focus on the problem of getting you back to

your body, and we can figure things out from there.”

That idea agreed with Troy, at least until the point where he started getting woozy, really

feeling the strain now of trying to keep himself whole. He had to get back to his body and soon.

Fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, but he hung on. He figured it was best to warn her of thatmuch.

“Hurry. I’m getting really tired,” he confessed. “It feels like I have to hold myself

together and if I let go I’m going to just float off in all directions.”

She disappeared into the shop and he heard her leafing through a selection of books. Not

knowing what to do with himself while he waited, Troy tried repeating that mantra that had

gotten him in this mess to begin with. He found it soothing, a single sound that seemed to

represent everything that he was. When he was focussed on that one sound, it was less of a

struggle to stay in one piece. Finally she returned, waving a small book.

“Did you say that thread that connects you to your body is fading?”

Troy forgot himself for a moment and lifted his gaze to look directly at her. The blinding

glare made him wince and he was force to look away again.



“Yeah, I’ve been drifting around aimlessly for a while now and I’m exhausted. I was

getting pretty desperate and then I noticed you were different from everyone else. Your spirit, or

I guess that’s what it is, looked more solid and...pretty.” Troy didn’t intend on flattery, and what

he said was the truth. Even if the sight of her was too much for him to bear, it was firm and

appealing. Otherwise, he would have never tried to make contact with her. “I figured it was

worth a shot to try talking to you. You don’t know how thankful I am that you listened and

answered.”

She lifted the book again, shaking it gingerly towards him.

“Well, from the little I read, I’m assuming that you saw me as some sort of a spirit guide,

and that’s why you were drawn to me. I’m going to have to talk you through getting back. But

you’ll have to listen very carefully and remember what I tell you, alright? And we have to do

this quickly. If that thread disappears before you get back to your body, you’ll never be able to

return there.”

If she was supposed to be making him feel better, that wasn’t going to do it. If anything,

her words stirred panic in him once more and filled him with dread. He had worried that he

could end up stuck the way he was, but having her confirm that it was a possible outcome did not

provide him with any reassurance. There was hardly time to argue that point with her, however.

He could school her on the art of tact and omitting truths for the sake of protecting someone’s

feelings some other time. Despite this outlook, and sort of like poking at a picked scab, Troy

still prompted her to repeat what she had just said.

“You mean I could be stuck like this for good?” He didn’t want to say those words, as if

speaking them could make them come true all on its own. He wondered what would happen tohis body if he couldn’t return to it. Would they think he was in a catatonic state, and shove him

away to rot in some hospital for the rest of his days? How long would it take for his physical self

to die, and then what would become of him as he was now. Troy shuddered at the thought.

“That’s what the book says,” the shiny woman said, waving the small paperback at him

again. “Are you ready?” She asked this as if he had a choice. Troy didn’t.

“Sure, sure – just get me home, before it’s too late,” he told her, antsy for her to do

whatever was necessary.

“I’ll do my best. When you get back there, I want you to call me,” she offered. “Use atelephone this time. You can look it up, The Baba Yagga Boutique. It’s one of a kind. I’m

Silvana, by the way. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

At least he had a name now, one he figured he’d be able to remember considering it was

as flaky as she was. At this thought he chastised himself inwardly. He shouldn’t be passing

judgement on her like that, no matter what he thought of this place and her beliefs. She was



willing to help him; he should be grateful. If she wasn’t open to such things, he’d be screwed

right now.

“Whatever you want, now let’s go,” Troy replied. He was feeling woozy again and

wasn’t sure if this was to be expected or because his body, wherever it was in relation to him

now, was suffering the effects of a hangover.

The woman exhaled and when she spoke again her voiced had softened, not that it was

any way harsh to begin with. Silvana, she had called herself – an odd name. Troy would have to

remember that. He was annoyed that he couldn’t see her properly, but he was already making

assumptions about what she looked like, based on where and who she was. He pictured her as

some sort of freaky hippy chick with Bohemian peasant garb and long unruly hair. That, or

some goth gal, with an Emo look, wearing dark layered clothing and heavy black eyeliner. He

wondered which counter-culture way she leaned. Either way, she was likely the type of person

he would normally go out of his way to avoid.

“Alright, your room must be pretty familiar to you right? Pick something you know

inside and out, something you are sure you could locate even if you were fumbling around

blindly in the dark. You need that to be your focal point. Concentrate on that, no matter what

other distractions pop up as you go. You can’t let anything else draw away your attention while

you’re finding your way back. There can be a lot of things that will throw you, if you let them.”

That wouldn’t be difficult, despite the disarray of his room. He didn’t care about much in

the way of his belongings. Many of them he associated in some way with either the days before

the divorce or the time he had spent with Alanna, and therefore he had been purposefully

ignoring them as a means of distancing himself from those events. The few items that he trulycared about were the ones with ties to his mother, or to Matt. In fact, there was one gift from his

mother that Troy treasured the most, and he always knew where that possession could be found.

“My prize possession is a hockey stick signed by Sidney Crosby. My mom gave it to me

as part of my high school graduation gift - I used to play. I know exactly where it is. Nobody’s

allowed to touch it but me. It’s within arm’s reach of where I’m sitting on my floor.”

If Troy thought about that hockey stick, he could easily picture where it was. He knew

that he could have reached out and connected with it if he was back in his body. To his surprise,

just concentrating on that special gift created a new pull in him, suddenly giving him a new sense

of direction. He would have left that second if he hadn’t wanted to seem ungrateful.

“That’s perfect,” she continued. “Now I know that thread you mentioned is fading, but

you have to keep track of it. While you concentrate on your focal point, you’re going to have to

follow it back to your body. You don’t have to make any effort. It’s mostly just a matter of

allowing yourself to drift in that direction while ignoring the other forces that happen to be

tugging at you; it’s a natural inclination but there will be urges trying to drive you elsewhere and



plenty of them. Those unresolved feelings most people like to call “baggage”? – That’s what

will do it.”

While reluctant to admit that he might have been distracted by such things, he had to

concede that it was a possible explanation as to why he had gotten derailed in his attempts to

return to Laura. Troy had been feeling no pain the night before, and any qualms about thedivorce or how he had handled things with Alanna had been forgotten then. But while sober,

those were both concerns that rested heavily upon his psyche. There was definitely a chance that

he had allowed his thoughts to drift that way while searching for the little lost girl. If what

Silvana claimed held true, something like that could have thrown him off course.

“Alanna. My dad...yeah,” he confessed. “I’ll keep myself from thinking about them if

that’s what I need to do. Anything else?” Troy meant that. He would start back to his body

with renewed resolved and an earnest attempt to stay focussed. He would listen to her advice

and he wouldn’t let his mind wander.

“Anything else can wait,” she said. “Find that focal point and get going. And don’t

forget to call.”

Troy wasn’t even really listening anymore, the desperation to get back to his body and

the pull drawing him back there stronger than it had been before. She had done this for him. She

had made it simple. That much he had to acknowledge.

“I won’t,” he insisted. “And Silvana? Thank you.”

He let go of his tenuous hold on the physical realm of the room and suddenly he was

moving again. This time it wasn’t the sporadic swirling rush that tossed him around seeminglyrandomly. He was locked in on that hockey stick and everything it meant to him. It represented

hero-worship, the love of his mother, the achievement of a goal and a symbol of his own

aspirations. It was triumph and promise. They were objectives he had been striving for but

which had mostly slipped away from him when he had been too busy struggling with a sense of

abandonment. Troy couldn’t believe how much he had sacrificed all for the sake of resentment.

Who had he hurt more?

The return to his physical form was almost as jarring as it had been the night before. The

feeling was so overwhelming that Troy could manage nothing more than curling into a ball on

his floor and gasping for breath. He had never been so tired in his life, barely able to find theenergy to grab for his cell with shaky fingers. He needed help, but he couldn’t afford to let his

mother see him like this. Other than her, there was only one other person he had always been

able to count on.

He was thankful that he had Matt’s number on speed dial. It took him several minutes of

great effort just to do that much.



“What do you want?”

The voice on the other end was groggy and irritated. It was really early, and Matt was

trying to sleep off the remnants of their partying. Troy was relieved his friend had even bothered

to answer. Matt had probably recognized his ringtone. Troy heard Matt grunt

“Buddy,” Troy groaned, barely able to speak. “I’m in rough shape. You’ve got to get

over here.”

That was as much as he could get out. His trembling jostled his phone from his grasp and

it slipped from his fingers onto his carpet. Troy knew he had promised Silvana that he would

call, but it wasn’t going to happen until he could at least sit up. He hoped Matt wouldn’t just roll

over and go back to sleep. Troy had always been able to depend on him in the past.

As the world greyed out, Troy could hear Matt calling his name over the phone. That, he

thought, was a good sign...

Intangible - Chapter 4

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