The World of Myth Magazine

How many days have passed? Five? I can barely breathe. I have cried so much that my throat has tightened up, hardly allowing life-giving air to pass through. I struggle again, trying to force myself through the tiny gap between the rocks. Three or four had dropped on me when I fell down this ravine and now held me fast. My phone bounced, then shattered on impact. The feeling of despair was absolute. No one was coming to save me. Why did I decide on an evening run into the desert? A spur of the moment idea, and I left without telling anyone.

I would normally run after school was over, with my dog Mustard. Tonight, was parents' night, and as much as I enjoyed meeting my students' families, it made for a long day. When I finally got home, Mustard was dosing on the couch. He was an elderly dog, so I felt bad about disturbing him. I decided to let him rest. In my bedroom I glanced in the mirror as I changed into my running gear. I ran, not because I enjoyed exercise, but because I enjoyed food. I was also short, and lazy, so it was a constant battle of the bulge. Tying back my unruly long curly auburn hair, I switched on my music, and I was out the door.

Running along my usual route, my mind was on that evening's events. Being later and darker than normal changed the look of the terrain. I was on the edge of the ravine before I could stop. Down I fell. Oddly enough, on reflection, it was almost as if I'd been pushed. That was ridiculous of course, there had been no one near me all through my run. I now have no water left. I made it last as long as I could, but I took my last sip two days ago. The only light in the stygian gloom is that I have no broken bones, amazingly.

As the sun began to descend, I knew my body would now have to adjust from the scorching, searing heat to a bone-rattling, mind-numbing cold. I waited for the shivering and shaking to start once again. However, tonight seemed different. I felt numb and so weak. Is this it then? I remembered reading somewhere that, in extremis, a person stops shivering when their core temperature drops too low. My eyelids fluttered then closed. A thought flitted through my mind. It was, are they ever going to open again?

Then it started to get weird. I suddenly felt weightless, floaty, and relaxed. I was barely aware of the sandpaper feeling in my parched throat. I opened my eyes, looked around for a bright light or a door, maybe a stairway. Instead, I floated way above the desert sand. Below, my slight, wracked body was curled tightly around a huge boulder, trying to leach what little heat remained in it from that day's sunlight. That rock had her, me, pinned to the wall of the ravine. I gave a little scream, tense up, as might be expected, and whoosh, I was right back in my body.

I forgot the danger I was in, ignored the panic and pain, because this was epic! At first, my brain was like a rat in a trap. It was bouncing off the sides of its cage in a frenzy of fear. I had to calm down and evaluate the potential, if any, of my discovery. I moved in and out. What else was there?

Of course, I could be hallucinating. Perhaps the more sensible conclusion? The wild beating in my chest slowed, as did my breathing. With my eyes closed, I invited my astral body to fly. I pictured my house. There was another whoosh. When I dared to look, I was hovering over it. No way! I darted around, looking at all the windows. Where was my poor dog? Had he been stuck inside the house all this time? There was no sign of him, so mum must have had him with her.

Next, how could I let anyone know what had happened? There was one person who might have sensed I was in trouble. I visualized my childhood home. Another whoosh and I was standing in front of my lovely little mum in her chair. All well and good, but what now? Anything I might have used to gain her attention, my voice, my hands, were stuck in a ravine.

It broke my heart to see she had been crying. She clutched the phone, even in her sleep. I was thinking of trying to shout in her ear when, through the door, came my little dog, Mustard. He stopped suddenly, sat back on his haunches, and barked loudly. Mum shrieked as she was jerked awake. Mustard was now jumping around me, making the yipping noise he always greeted me with when I got home. He couldn't see me, could he? I floated behind mum's chair. He followed.

Next, I moved to my old bedroom. Mustard followed. As I had hoped, so did mum. Besides the bed was an old pair of my running shoes. I got as close to them as I could. Mustard immediately grabbed one and dragged it to me. He then sat back, wagging his tail. I looked at my mum. This was my last chance. My life depended on her understanding and acceptance of what she was seeing. I drifted to the front door. Mustard followed me, distraught. My mum grabbed my amazing pet in her arms and shouted to my dad, "Robert, call the police, and the rescue crew, get them here right away. I have no idea how, but Mustard knows where to find Susie."

My pain-wracked body was becoming weaker. Soon my mind and body will not be connected.

There would be no way back. I visualized the ravine, and I was there. To my horror, a dark shape was almost covering my body. I felt touched by the evil miasma, as from a rotting corpse, that slithered below me. The entity then became aware of me. The dark gaseous cloud made a disgustingly sinuous slithering movement to turn what should have been its face towards me. I wanted to hurtle down on it and see if an astral body could have any effect if used in anger. I decided that would not be a good idea and cast around in panic for a solution.

Minutes passed as the entity, almost lovingly, moved over and around my helpless form. I was distraught. A scream was building in my mind. The entity reared up, as if intending to dive into my empty body. There was a roar of powerful engines, and the blackness of the desert night was suddenly split by a silvery-bright shaft of light, followed by another. They then came together and pinpointed my frail body.

At the same moment, I released the force of the scream that had been building and directed it at the black soul below me. The dreadful apparition contracted in upon itself, then vanished.

Using the last of my strength, I drifted down and gently slid into what felt like a very frail shell. The lights from the town's rescue vehicles were steadily aimed at me. The men and women gathered above me were clapping and shouting, pleased at the happy outcome that could so easily have been a tragedy. Not one of them had any idea what kind of evil entities were hiding in the desert, or how close I had been to becoming one of them.

My next thought was, how many times had something like this happened? Even more terrifying was the question, had anyone else been rescued as I had? Because if not, those dreadful, twisted nightmare creatures might be walking among us, and we would be oblivious to them. I was so tired my eyes started to close, and when I realized what was happening, I jerked myself awake. Was this how it was going to be? Too terrified to sleep in case I astral travelled, leaving my body venerable again? Still struggling with all that had happened, I next opened my eyes to see mum and dad smiling at me. I looked around and realized I was in a hospital room. I was safe at last.

After I explained to my parents everything that had happened, I expected scorn and disbelief. It has to be said, dad looked a little confused. My mum, however, still looking worried, held my hand and whispered.

"I knew when Mustard started to make that yipping noise he always makes when you get home that somehow, you were there, in the room”?

"How could you reach that conclusion so quickly? Had you heard of astral projection before? "

"Yes, I had from your grandmother when I was a little girl. I didn't know what it meant exactly. I took one of the cookies she had just baked to my bedroom to eat. She knew. Before I had even nibbled it, she was in the room with me. I had left her dosing in her rocking chair.”

Mum said she knew her grandma was special, even then. There were her lotions and potions, made at the big kitchen table. Above her head, the dried herbs, and flowers she picked scented the air so sweetly. People would often come to the back door and grandma would give them something in a bottle or little pot. In return, there would be no money, but a chicken, a ham, a basket of vegetables, or a roll of cloth. The explanation her grandmother gave her was vague. All she said was that sometimes she could see things that were happening miles away, so she could offer help when it was needed. I knew how much mum missed her.

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