Karate Blossoms Part 2

I missed my shift that coming day. I didn't leave my apartment. There was nothing important enough. Even though I work the downstairs deli. That was the only downside. I blasted music, paced, wore headphones over my hooded head. Myrtle, the co shop keep, banged on the door for the greater part of the morning. Pounding while shouting my name. The items on the counter next to the door slowly chattered to the edge. Good thing they lived across town and the deli closes at 12pm on Sundays. I was saved by the bell again.

With my head under the lip of the open window I heard the front store gate roll down. The steel bars locking against the cement dug hinge, a click from the combination lock, dissipating footsteps, I watched them cross the street to the adjacent parking lot. Like a hidden child or a nosey neighbor peeking out the shades. Free at last.

Again and again, I read every chapters outline, cover to cover. It’s 11 something now, 23,000 steps worth of pacing, my active watch complimented me on the exceeded exercise but warning me of my overdue bed time. And now, my eyes barely functioning, delusions intensifying, control waning, dipping in between control and sleep, I crashed on the couch. A balled blanket as a pillow, an open book as a sleep mask. I drifted immediately into where I least expected to go. That field of endless, ground rooted benches. The best place I could have landed really.

“Behold!” The man before us, the endless rows of on lookers, preached.

Pillars of phantom white surrounded the edge of the bi sectioned crowd. The supports casting no shadows. We sat on a plateau. Small, uniform blades of grass swept the infinite field. Within the distance I noticed that we weren’t outside at all. Lucid, turning my attention to the peripheral of the scene. There was see though walls beyond the far out mountain peaks. Like, cathedral walls. As if this patch of land was vested in a giant castle or church. Something so massive it had its own ecosystem. Maybe that’s why it’s always been just a flush of white light-

“A lost Anunnaki.” He released.

The voice took me back. And then, the dream just stops. But I don’t. I notice immediately I lost all sense of sound. It was chilling. I looked around and my moving made a sound in this lifeless plain. Dust was even frozen in its flurrying. I was unable to panic. I transitioned intensely into a sense of self awareness. Like always, and like always, I didn’t wake up.

Good, I thought.

The crowd was statues, chiseled or hand formed. Faces undistinguishable. Paranoid, I skootched my way to the middle running isle. The man at the anterior, wearing a full robe, hooded and a veil to hid his face. Stood there. A rolling of his fingers on the wooden podium made his black sleeve sway lightly. I was walking, slowly, forward. Head pitched up, looking left to right with intense absorption. His head spanned down as I got closer, his hidden eyes followed me. I felt it. A single arm lifted as I got to the platform. He motioned with a dangling hand, palm up, to approach, then, turned down with a single finger rotating. Turn. I saw the ceramic people lined behind me, shoulder to shoulder, in the isle like loyal soldiers.

“Your name, Alwu.” The deep drum voice spoke behind me, I shot around.

“Ivo Nior-Wlk” escaped my lips automatically. But, this was outside of my control or influence. I broke from that vessel, into a place- a perspective outside of myself.

The statues bent to a knee, I felt the impact into the soil.

“As you have been.” The man bellowed. “Back as you become. Again and again. Until it’s done.”

I tried talking but I wasn’t able to. There was nothing for me to speak through. I couldn't understand how I was spectating.

“You are the one destined to seal the sun.” He spoke, my body formed to a kneel as well. I felt awe, confusion, entitlement and bravery. I felt it all. Even things I have no idea how to begin to pronounce in English.

We spoke in a dialectic, dense code. Unable to interrupt I felt as a well-disciplined child in the corner. I waited in an overarching view. I, that body, it began forming, unfolding, reconfiguring, shifting its shape. A massive expansion that broke the silence in the windless plateau. It wasn’t a termination as I first thought, but an evolving. A human vessel molting into a mammoth sized stationary raging bull trampling. Caught just above the ground. Moving nowhere. With its legs as thick as Sequoia Sempervirens. We looked like flies to this thing. I, whatever I had been, floated beside the figure clothed in obsidian.

It was then, while not thinking to thrash myself awake, not even being able to distinguish what awake may actually mean, realized that this is way more than a dream. This was an initiation, a passed test. It was the way to freedom now thinking of it. But the first thing I had to understand is that I will never understand.

And those distant walls. Those were barriers for the good of the outside unknown. From- well- for me.

He turned to speak towards me one last time.

“Be brave.” He gave me away to a engulfing spiral of enveloping darkness. I woke fiercely with pages stuck to my face from night sweats. I could still feel that final reaching grasp. Like a shake to wake up. An impression on the arm that holds its shape like tenting on dehydrated skin.

“I can hear you snoring! I know you’re in there!”

“Shit!” I shouted accidently.

“I heard that!”

I threw myself to my feet. The digital clock on the makeshift dresser turned tv stand taunted me with a loud beep.

“Getting dressed Myrtle!”

“You have 10 minutes! Don’t bother showing up ever again if you’re late!”

“Be down shortly!” Hobbling to dress, tripping over clutter, my outfit recycled from the top of the hamper. A clouding of anti-odor spray will work for now, tamed hair, washed face, half brushed teeth, everyday footwear, keys and a fake smile. That’ll do for this short shift.

The day went as expected. Stock, ring out, reshelf, clean, stock, ring out, clean, order, construct pick up, ring out, clean, reshelf, take orders. The lapsing afternoon rush slowed. I knew it was almost time to go, but I harassed myself with impatience. I cursed the slugging movement of the owners. I was itching, literally, to leave. They told me to lock up and I took the request gladly. I busted my ass completing the last of the cleaning. Right as I am finishing the last time with a mops wipe, the front door swings open as I stand in the middle isle. I walked towards the slow opening, eager to shut the shades and disconnect the neon for the open sign so no one else tries entering.

“Sir, we’re!-“

“How was the books?” The face covered in a dropped shadow from a curved brimmed hat spoke. Spanning up, showing facial contours, I seen him before I thought instantly.

It was him. The lanky library worker. I noticed as he pulled his face into the light. I dug my heel into the squeaky floor and stood there. Slightly frightened.

“I take it went well.” He trapped himself against the door, blocking its inward swing and locking mechanism. “Sleep much?” He critiqued with pinched, examining eyes.

Confused, I nodded unsure, a little thrown off, moving backwards to regrip the metal mop handle I rested against the shelf on the border of the walk way. I don't know what made me react so poorly, in any other situation I would have freaked out by now.

“Happens to all of us.” He said back. Raising his hands in surrender. “I am not here to hurt you or anything like that,” he thinks I believe that? “truly.” He opened his coat, a black bomber jacket with no badges. Taking it off, placing it at his feet, tucked in shirt he rotated in place to show me his belt lining. Turning out his pockets. Removing his hat to recap after showing its inside. “See?” Who the hell is this guy?

That’s when my composure returned.

“We close in a minute kid you gotta go. I don’t know how you found me but you’re a phone call away from being arrest for harassment-“

“Was realizing the walls the tipping point or the beginning?” He jumped back into his previous rambling. I stood there unable to answer. “It was more of the source of light to me. Seems the whole ceiling is just a killer to look at. That’s why you usually look straight.”

“What- what! What do you know!” Angerly racing towards him, his arms still raised, grasping the extent of the black shirt, coaching him away from the door, throwing him out. He watched the shades slide in and the sign lose power. I raced out, unrolled the awning rolled gate to the ground, closing the combination lock on the floor with anchored latch.

“I only have until sunset.” He said after the click. “You’re the one they call Ivo, Night Walker, Red tide of Bull. The offensive. So on and so forth.”

I was speechless. What was I supposed to say? I stood up, exhaled, and began walking. We spun the block, only to come back to where we started. It was enough time to entertain what I thought was nonsense. But, as I see it now, every word held a hint.

After a fury of rambling through and around the impossible scope of interdimensional experiences manifested by, what he described as proper frequency that brought me to a ripple without time that only exist due to mother nature, he tried explaining how only a small percentage of people have these abilities.

“What the- okay.” I had to force a couple rapid breathes. I was holding my torso still while realizing that this was way too crazy and applicable to be fake. two fingers pinching the bride of my nose, eyes clenched in thought.

“I’m the one they call Blood Orange or the Sun.”

And then, I believed him fully. Undoubtedly. As the void covered man told me. Seal the sun. But why would I seal him? Did he mean protect?

“Have you figured out how to travel?”

“Who the hell are you really?” He reached to scratch the back of his neck.

“Well, okay. I am- which you won’t believe at first but- I’m your grandson.”

For the longest it felt, I jostled my head, pacing in front of this early 20’s character who knew my dreams, claims of my own experiences, hitting all the nails on the head as if he was my therapist himself. And oh yeah- my grandson?! Like what? I am 28 years young without any plans on having children and this- whoever the hell he is- just stands there waiting. Two generations of me, of what I am, what I will do, that I haven’t done yet. How’s that even possible?

“You’re on drugs kid. That’s really it.” A lightbulb snapped on when my fingers snapped to accuse. It’s like he enjoyed the standoff, he was unmoved by my allegations of falsehood. My goddamn grandson, are you crazy?

“Your name, Alwu?” When he said that my ability to breathe collapsed, I jolted into this 3rd person perspective once again. Peeled from my physical vessel, stringing away from myself into a light of blue yellow mist. Watching myself reply.

“Ivo Nior-Wlk-“ I watched the side of my mouth move. The shadowing of the bright sun casting a glow on my figure. The cars in the background whizzing by made no noise. He grinned devilishly when I, that vessel, answered. Inserting a standing finger.

“See?” He said aloud. Looking over to the side. “Return.”

I was sucked back into my own flesh by a bright, near clear chain. I stumbled, patted myself down, looked over at the space where I was spectating. Panting, just confused. Feeling violated I snapped.

“Do not! Do not do that shit again!” Furious, I wanted to walk away, but I couldn’t bring myself to. So I paced.

“Need more proof?”

"No!"

The surrounding sounds came back, slowly, like the start of a downpour. I pulled him through the building break, an alley way, to get to the stores back entrance. My apartments main entrance and exit. Once we got to the door he resisted any further pull. He actually pulled back. When I looked back, he was eyeing the ends of the alleyway. His eyes watching the shadows of city skyline buildings fall. Bringing increasing darkness by the minute.

“You are the last deity, the Raging Bull. In all what’s left to exists before humanity. I can’t get here indefinitely without you. I was only allowed back to encourage your blind faith in a game bigger than linguistics could explain. A war really, against yourself. If you perish before your task is complete, we’re all in trouble.” His face never spun to look at me. He was boasting a voice that was as solid as a motivational speaker with the depths of urgency and secrecy. It was like he was telling me everything I needed to know. A guide to more, to freedom. With a catch.

It was the last part that troubled me. Because he never told me what had to be given up. The trade off.

“The man in colorlessness is our Father name Chronos."

"Our?" The sourness of my face created a river of wrinkles. “Chronos as in- time?” I watched his eyes track the shadows of skyscraper tips slide down the brick walls at the end of the buildings gap. The warm smoke from slotted sewer holes, that made indents in the ground blew, grew more dense smoke as the heat from the sun went away.

“The one and only.” He finally looked at me. And in his eyes, I saw something familiar.

“So- okay. So." How do I word this? "I don’t dream, I transport?”

“Mhm.”

“To?”

“Another frequency in this formidable existence. Once not a lot can see, imagine or begin to understand. The unknown unknown.”

“Why do I know- or get to see it then?”

“You’re a child of the Indigo. A lost being. The ones they set to destroy. To remove from inhabitance and existence. The ones who can save crumbling empires. Ignorance is deadly, intelligence is god. Our ancestors figured out time, deities, shape shifting, speaking into existence , mind control, weather control and more. It was not only two who made this flat-” He lifted his hands, spinning them as if to examine them. They were pitch black. “I must go.” I didn’t realize I was still latched to the extent of his sleeve. He softly jerked my grip, detaching himself.

“Wait!” I yelled after his fast trek to the road. “What am I supposed to be doing!?”

“Go back!” His voice swooned in an echo after cutting the corner. That was it. I felt no urgency to chase after him. I had a feeling we would meet again, very, very soon.

So, I unlocked the shops back door. Shut it behind me. Shivered in the seeping coldness from the freezer that invaded the stairwell. Traveling up that close set staircase to my flimsy door. Breaking it open with an obnoxious loud bang. I reduced, slowing my actions to close the door lightly. And of course, the first thing I searched for was that small book. Still open to the pages that rested on my face. The parchment now crinkly from being water logged.

I let out a big, relaxing exhale. This time, I was okay with the nervousness.

“Okay.” I whispered to myself. “Okay. Just, go, back.” And then I began to read from the top of that chapter. I fell back into the uncomfortable cushions. Feeling my world around me toilet bowl. Dozing off into a sense of nothingness that collapsed all conveyable human sensations into a pilotless projection. The ending result was a snap of motion to a harmless halt. Planted onto a root dug bench, surrounded by marble shaped audience members, an infinite field plateau, a vision distorting white flood light like sky.

“Behold!” The man at the podium bellowed.

I figured it out.

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Stay tune for the next installment of Karate Blossom, the series.

This has been a Jex original. Please stick around for the end!