From Between Worlds, Brendon Nutt [the top 100 crime novels of all time txt] 📗

true, sometimes these trips he has me go on look and feel quite real, like I’m actually traveling somewhere.

 

“I’ve been wondering if this is something of a suppression of yours manifested or an actual memory,” he trailed off on the last thought, seemingly musing a bit too much on the possibilities of it.

 

“I doubt its a memory, I mean, I may not remember much of my childhood but I doubt it's because I was haunted by a tentacled shadow man.”

 

“Never say never, not in this world of wonders, my dear Jonathan,” Brad always said weird shit like that as if he was quoting some proverb, might just be his cadence. He has said things about grilled cheese being the bridge to his childhood self in much the same way.

 

“Sure, I guess,” then I remembered I had a bone to pick, “Oh, why in the hell did you have to go and tell Parker about it all anyway?”

 

“Did I?” Bread thought a moment, tapping his chin with a finger, “ah, yes!” He pointed up at the sky to convey the lightbulb went off, “didn’t think much of it, was it private?”

 

“Sort of…” I replied pensively, scratching the back of my head, “I mean, not really, just try and not tell anyone of the guys the weirder shit I’ve been seeing, at least not until we can figure out what it all means.“

 

“Alright,” Brad nodded, agreeable, “I’ll not let them know about your weird tentacle obsession.”

 

“You too!?” I was legitimately shocked, making crude jokes was not his way. We must be rubbing off on him. He laughed heartily with this high pitched cackle. His laugh was always a bit weird, like someone who had not known what a laugh was until he watched the Wizard of Oz, heard the witches laugh, and decided that would be the best option.

 

“I do follow the history and modern trends of Japanese culture, I’m well aware of the tentacle fetish,” He answered in a straightforward manner, which was often his way. He was either overtly straightforward or irritatingly cryptic, “well then, should we get started? We won't be breaking through those blocked memories of yours by standing around and… shooting the shit.” He was trying to talk like people, it was cute.

 

He led the way to the back bedroom of the two bedroom home. He lived alone, so the spare had been turned into a work area of sorts. Lets just say that if this was the 1980’s, this room would be what every media outlet was dying to exploit in the infamous satanic panic. Not that anything in the room was satanic, but right in the corner of the room was a large alter with a cow skull with a pentagram necklace hanging hanging on its right horn.

 

It was interesting getting to know Brad and learning just how much of pagan based beliefs and culture linked up with the more common faiths of the day. The pentagram wasn’t an evil thing, well, the upside down version of it certainly had some connection to actual satanism, but your standard upright one, not so much. The altar had many little trinkets and charms on it, along with a sword leaning up against it, one wrapped in a similar way to the one I had found outside, but in a white cloth around the sanded wooden handle. Ninja Brad had talked about the way he had blessed it for the purpose of magic once before, but since I wasn’t exactly a believer in it all, I didn’t retain the process by memory.

 

He had the entire room covered in black sheets. You could see specks of yellow on them if you looked closely, the yellow was dots of glow in the dark paint that made the room look as if you were standing in the middle of space, surrounded by stars when the lights were off. Brad did all this since he felt atmosphere was important to staying focused when practicing anything that took immense concentration and internal peace. I just thought it was a bad ass idea that I was going to steal one day to give girls I brought home something to wow at.

 

“Sweet or floral?” Brad asked, motioning to the brass cups on the altar full of incense.

 

“Floral. Sweet brings to mind cookies and candy, the thought of food sounds distracting.”

 

“Did you need to eat?” Brad took an incense from one of the middle cups, gave it a sniff, nodded, and then inserted it into the mouth of Japanese style dragon holder he had made of nicely carved wood.

 

“No, I’m fine.” When the incense was lit up, it gave the room a nice smell, like lavender. Ninja Brad then took the white handled sword that leaned up against the altar before walking over to the window, moving aside the thick blackout curtain to look toward the sky.

 

“Waxing, right?” I asked, taking a seat on the center of the floor. He let go of the curtain and nodded.

 

“Correct. You’re learning the moon’s phases?” he said with a pleased smile.

 

“Yeah, figured in case a ritual of yours turned me into a werewolf it would be good knowledge to have.”

 

“Would you like to be a werewolf?” He asked as he put the tip of the sword to the ground gently.

 

“Why? Could you make me one?”

 

“No.” He started dragging the sword along the carpet at his side tracing out a circle around us.

 

“Then no.”

 

“Would the answer be different if I said I could?” When he finished the circle, I had to stand and move aside as he traced the shape of the five pointed star.

 

“I do get six pack abs as a werewolf, right?”

 

“Depends on the lore.”

 

“Then my answer is, it depends.”

 

He smirked and gave a small laugh, which I took as a success. He was typically very serious come circle time. The last shapes he traced out with sword and carpet were the runic signs for the four elements on each of the cardinal directions. That was something I would need a compass for, I couldn’t tell what direction I was facing at any given moment and also had a bad habit of getting east and west confused.

 

“Are you ready?” He asked as he finished the southern shape.

 

“Yeah. Is it time to summon Captain Pla..”

 

“No.” He interrupted, apparently tired of that joke, “have you memorized it?”

 

“Yes.” I said more pointedly since serious Ninja Brad had shown up. He nodded and reached up to pull down on the cord from the ceiling fan above to turn off the light. The room went dark and slowly the glow in the dark spots on the walls started to glow, giving the room an ambience. Brad offered me a hand, which I took as he positioned himself to stand at my side.

 

“Great Mother and Great Father, I ask you to join us and protect us from the spirits that would intrude upon this here sacred ground. By the great powers of air, fire, earth, and water, bless and empower us as we journey beyond.”

 

The invocation was said in tandem, turning to each of the cardinal directions as the elements were named off. Afterwards, we let go of each others hands and sat down opposite one another. My hands fell naturally to rest folded on top of my folded legs. I knew it was important to be comfortable, and sit straight to help avoid falling asleep.

 

“Deep breath in, pay attention to your diaphragm, how it decompresses and your chest tightens. Hold the air in for a second, taking not to the stillness within, now exhale.”

 

I did as he directed, taking the breath in slow through my nose and focusing on my breath, my body, and its sensations before exhaling it out through my mouth in a slow and deliberate manner.

 

“Again,” He said, taking part in the breathing, his inhale loud and deliberate, just as his exhale was. I always thought it was dramatic how much he put into it, though I knew he put more into it to make it clear how long the breath was supposed to be and how slow the exhale was supposed to be. We repeated this process over and over again, which caused my head and arms to feel heavy as it always did. This felt like it went on for awhile, I wondered what I was going to see today. Last time wasn’t all that pleasant.

 

“Do not drift, focus on your breath and the sensation.”

 

My wandering mind directed itself back to the breathing at his cue. I thought of nothing but the breath, nothing but how heavy I suddenly felt, nothing but how much I wanted to slouch but knew I shouldn’t. Eventually his loud breathing stopped and mine became less pronounced with it.

 

“Take a look around your minds eye, turn within the space. What do you see?”

 

I felt as if I was turning in the space, imagining it, but also feeling feet below me pivot to turn a body.

 

“Darkness, all around me, darkness,” I replied, the voice sounding like it came from well above where I was, but not myself.

 

“Before you, you will see a door.”

 

In the blackness, a large violet wooden double door materialized itself in front of me. The doors were plain with no details or accents, the handles on the other hand were gold, with a five pointed star shape etched into it.

 

“Open the door and step inside.”

 

I reached with both hands and turned the knobs, the moment I began to turn them, the doors shot open and my vision was covered in light. I reached up with my arms to block my eyes, squinting as a searing pain flared up in the back of my head. The light enveloped me and I felt my body drifting weightlessly as I was pulled forward.Then it stopped and darkness returned.

 

I dropped my arms to investigate my surroundings, noticing I was standing inside of someone’s home. The house was dark and all of my surroundings had this haze to it. I could still see the details of what lay before me with everything lit just enough by a dim blue light. I stood at the front door and the path before me was a short hallway with a door on my left, my mind telling me it was a bathroom. At the end of the entry hall, the room opened up, a divider in the wall on the right led to a kitchen and dining room, to the left the living room and directly in front was stairs leading up to the second floor. My recognition was nearly immediate, this was a childhood home.

 

I moved homes a lot when I was younger and I could never remember the layout of them. This one however, was as clear to me as ever. I was five or six at the time when we lived here, and my family shared stories of this place. While they would talk about supernatural events in many of the homes we were in, this one was special. My mother told stories about this house being occupied by many spirits, many that made her believe without a shadow of a doubt, that they existed.

 

As I stared ahead, letting the realization of where I was sink in, I noticed Brad’s voice had stopped giving instructions. He had either stopped doing so or I was so deep I could no longer hear him. I was alone now and my first instinct was to open the door behind me and get out. I tried to turn the knob and it was locked. It didn’t even turn or budge at all.

 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “This isn’t real, you are safe at Brad’s house, this is in your head,” I said to myself aloud, my body betraying the advice as my heart pounded and my senses narrowed in focus. My hands shook uncontrollably, the fight or flight instinct was kicking in. The world around was pushing on me, telling me to leave and get out,