Beyond the firmament, explosions of plasma cleaved the darkness in a vast, cataclysmic storm. Here spiral galaxies spun like fiery pinwheels into the sizzling energies of creation, and blinding neon rainbows tore across the borders between limitless dimensions. Here stood a gateway where dimensional crossroads met and merged into one, like soap bubbles joined by the thinnest veneer of swirling plasma. Here. in a space/time pocket far beyond the dreams or nightmares of Earth and Her people, Haj had been standing guard since time immemorial.
At this unlikely junction, the division became thin enough to cross. There was no actual physical point of entry; the gate existed in all places and times at once – just as Haj did. To the human eye, Haj was a profoundly autistic boy locked inside his own head. To those who could see, Haj was a guardian and protector, a shifter of frequencies standing like a levee against a tide of unrelenting strangeness.
A look into Haj’s eyes was a glimpse into eternity. Those who met his gaze felt a brief disorientation, then a plunge through stars, directly into the very heart of being. Through Haj’s eyes, they had come to know themselves more deeply. Through Haj’s eyes, the Universe seemed almost orderly. Unfortunately, very few had been given the privilege of looking into those eyes. Haj tended his inner landscape without taking notice of most people; but in the luminous pathways of the Indigo Net, Haj graced many with the gift of his gaze. He had become legend among the Indigos.
THE NORTH SEA
Anyone who has spent time on the sea at night has felt the thrill of strangeness, as the moon danced on swells and whitecaps all the way to the horizon. Even from the safety of the shore, the ocean calls in a voice at once familiar and alien. Creatures mythical and modern haunt the deeps, from Kraken to Leviathan to the great white shark. Even at the shoreline, the ocean covets its mysteries, but out on the belly of the sea, beneath a blanket of moonlight, all the rules change.
Even after two years on the oilrig, the ocean’s melodies still haunted Winter. Night after night in the middle of the North Sea, the ocean sang Her siren song, calling Winter by name. While the riggers drank “near beer” and shared stories in the galley, Winter prowled the deck alone, a white specter yearning to walk that shimmering moonbeam highway to realms of beauty and terror. He ached to walk on nameless, misty shores in search of the flame-haired enchantress he saw in his dreams. She was like the sea, beautiful and treacherous, alluring and deadly. Just her voice could freeze the blood of lesser men, but Winter always sensed he was more than mortal. In the endless nights he prowled the decks in search of Her, wondering if it were She, not the ocean, who called his name.
He spun in the direction of the voice. It was Valo, the only person on the rig he called a close friend. Valo stepped up beside him and looked out into the shimmering void. For a few minutes the two men stood in silence, soaking in the eerie splendor of the moonlit whitecaps. Shreds of clouds were drifting in from the north, shrouding the moon in phantom vapors. Winter shivered.
“Can you feel it?” Valo whispered. “A storm is coming.”
Winter could see his breath as the air grew cold. Lightning glowed in the distance, soon followed by a low complaint of thunder.
–From Indigo Dawn by Hank Eder
Check out the flash fiction story, “Siren Song,” at my website: http://www.atapcreations.com/stories.html
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