We leave after dinner from Pam's place, picked up by a guy with dark hair tied in a ponytail driving a pickup. He's Jim Brightfeather Pam says in introductions, and he makes a face at her like he's been teased. She brought her bag with her. I can see it radiate something when I see it out of the corner of my eye, like heatwaves or something, but it always looks normal dead on. We drive for hours, maybe three or four, maybe more, I'm too wedged in to look at my watch. We park in some industrial parking lot far from the building and walk into the woods. It's dark in the woods with no lights, the night reaches out to caress you, enfold you.
Somebody's laid a campfire in a tent. I thought you weren't supposed to do that, something about the material most tents are made from these days, not just the smoke. Neat. Whew, and warm. There's lots of people here. I've seen some of them come through the store for stuff. Well, they all know Pam. And they're looking at me like "I haven't seen you since you were this big"... Those finks, they came to the store to scope me out!
Oh, man, that is such a cool drum Jim, the pony tail guy, dragged out. Whew again, somebody tossed stuff into the fire, generating bright colored sparks and a very strong smell. Some other folks start lightly tapping their drums and softly saying something that tickles the back of my mind. I turn around to look at Pam for some explanations. She's put some bright paints on her face. She smiles at me, shaking her head against talking, and reaches out with the paints. I can't see the design but the paints feel almost tingly and warm, not cold and thick like grease paints do.
When I open my eyes again the smoke is thicker still. Some other people have colors on now. And some other people have alot fewer clothes. Pam moves me around to watch the patterns of the drumming. We swivel and spin. The drums thunk in spiralling patterns with Jim's, I think, in a base anchor. We swivel and spin. This turning stuff is making me dizzy, but I'm caught. The base pounds my heartbeat. My eyes focus and unfocus on the colored paints, they're flickering now, matching patterns swirling on the inside of the tent. Where did they come from?
Pam has joined the chanting I think, I hear her, somewhere near. Near? Where is here? Where are we? A chill ripples up from my soles, my hair stands on end. I feel them near, but now there is a far. A call lances out through the trees. Something needs. A sense of urgency grips me, and I run. Everything is in focus, and not in focus. I see clearly, but this place feels different from moment to moment. I run. A call is cut off. Need is great. I run. I must help. I can't not help. I won't let me. Push down the fear. Push through the trees. I run.
A bigger chill than before ripples up from my soles. I can still stop, still go back. I know Pam is there, I feel her, she'd tell me what it was. No, I cannot. I must go. Need is incredible. I feel that too. I run...
And burst through into a thicket. It is dark, and something within darker still. A small bright thing flickers, flickers, it hurts, it calls so feebly, what once called so strong. I don't hesitate, I throw myself at the dark, at the bright, curling around the bright to take it with me and break free.
PAIN !!!!!
THE DARK !!!!
PAIN !!!!!
Run little bright! Run little light! PAIN!
I gasp a glimpse of light wobbling away. It will be safe.
PAIN !!!!
My soul is blown out the marrow of my bones, like yolk from a blown egg. PAIN !!!! I'll make this bastard gasp for every breath of my soul! PAIN !!! Run little bright! I'll make him fight for it, I won't quit! PAIN !!!!
Something forms outside the dark near the bubbles of my soul. It slips through the dark to lap at my soul. I feel...
AAAAAUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The form merges with my soul, slips into the ragged edges of my marrow, takes the rest.
AAAAAUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I/We/It are _STRONG_. I/We/It has faced far worse than this pitiful shadow. I/We/It move. Move. Move. There. It is time. _STRENGTH_ flickers at the dark, and it is no more. I/We/It turn and LOOK. Into the eyes so near, the eyes that watch. It is time.
PAIN !!!!
Pam smiles at me. The world begins to focus but the colors shift. They are the patterns in the tent. I cough out smoke that is no longer there, nearly retching. There is no tent. There is only a fire and Pam, smiling.