Under a Starless Sky

Chapter 12

Candace was sitting by the water’s edge, lotus pose, meditating. There were two girls her age, sparring

with bamboo. They stopped and blocked him from coming closer.

“What do you want, ghost,” the one said.

“I just wanted to talk to Candace. I am her brother,” Shen said.

“There’s no way you’re her brother,” the other said. “You’re not right. Did you fall in bleach?”

“Candace?” Shen asked.

“Don’t summon her,” the other said. “She is far walking.”

“She’s meditating,” Shen said.

“Go away,” the first said.

“May I wait till…”

Hitting him with bamboo encouraged him to go away. He departed. He proceeded along the water’s

edge until the forest was so thick he had to swim or turn back. From there he proceeded up to his first

campsite. He maintained it, hoping to provide the illusion that this was his only place. He didn’t believe

he was being spied on. They didn’t seem to be curious about his life at all. First campsite held a crude

tent on the ground, a blanket that had been soaked in Irk pitch and let dried. It was perfectly water

proof. He went in and removed the empty jars he had been given to collect honey. There was a rather

good size hive nearby which was another reason to maintain this camp. Lower tent was draped over a

rope between two trees. One of the trees was near enough to another tree he could climb using one for

feet one for his back, and second tent was far enough off the ground the Irk couldn’t get him if he

overslept into morning. He had carried bamboo, fallen branches he had cleaned up, and made a

platform across several living branches from both trees, reasonably secured with vines. A branch

above supported a pitched blanket for a roof, simply draped. It was just big enough to sleep on, and

slightly sloped.

From the sleeping space, he could walk branches to a number of trees. There was a couple of crude

ramps bridging some of the further gaps, and vine rope, which was simply twisting three vines together,

so he had a guide connecting his path. One place he used a vine to swing to the next tree, which

always amused him enough he felt good about himself. At the end of the upper path, he climbed down

the tree and proceeded on ground, carefully as there were exposed Sleeper Roots, and found his way

to his cave. He called it a cave. It was hardly a hollow space. The ceiling did slop towards the exit,

which helped carry the smoke from his fire out.

He dropped off his satchel, gathered wood from a pile, came in and got the fire going again, went out to

his latrine, and came back. He had been successful enough at bringing gifts, which he had traded for a

poncho. He had tried to make one with a pitch covered blanket. It was crude, it smelled bad, and the

women had laughed. If he followed the outer rock face of the mountain North, and braced the Sleeping

Forest through the darkness until the light returned, he would come to a river. It varied from creek, to

full blown river. The water was always cold. During the times the river was shallow, he would explore

the mud and invariably find crystals. He had kept some, traded some. He was not sure why no one else

had explored this area, as it was reasonably accessible by the route he had taken. There was the stray

Irk, but if you were paying attention, you could climb and secure yourself to a branch with a rope before

it made you sleep. Fortunately, they didn’t go too far into the dark.

Usually. They would chase a torch. They would chase a glow beetle.

He sat by the fire, his back up against his egg, hoping it was still good. He entertained fantasies of

being there at hatching, ‘imprinting’ himself as the parent, and one day riding into the village on the

back of a fully grown Irk. He didn’t like killing rabbits, but he had made a rabbit pin and he now had a

dozen rabbits in his care. They were angora rabbits and there fur was valuable, and he wished he had

electric sheers. He would likely have to kill them to feed the newly hatched irk. He also had dried fish

prepared. It was not great, but it was eatable. He had seen the Irks eat fruit. He suspected avocado

seeds and sharp stones helped in digestion.

He sat by the fire, drawing in his book. His drawings were improving with practice, though never to the

level of perfection that he wanted. He had drawn Loxy maybe a dozen times. Some of the drawings

were so bad he burnt them. He didn’t want to remember her wrong. He stuck a ‘Wilson’ branch in the

ground near the place he usually sat, and some of the picture were attached to the branch, literally

pushing the branch through the paper so her pictures hung. No matter which way you came at the

branch, you would see Loxy’s face at the top. Full body pictures were in the middle. He would talk to

her, hence the name ‘Wilson’ branch. If he had a volley ball, he would have had a Loxy.

His journal was almost full. He tried to recreate anatomy from text books he had read. He thought N’Ma

would find it helpful. He drew human shapes and placed points and lines representing energy flow,

again, per texts he had seen. He drew crude maps of his present location. He was still trying to get at a

world map from remote viewing. His memory imagination block kept making him draw circles and

straight lines, and he would end up with the death star. He would tear this out and burn it. He spent a

whole day drawing with a stick on the dirt floor trying to get at it. When he had sleep, he dreamed of a

place with three mountains. Maybe mountain, three tops. A lake in the middle of the three mountains

led to three water falls. The heart of Sinter was under the mountain. Outside the mountain, still apart of

Sinter but perhaps different provinces or villages were established. The island or continent was huge. It

was surrounded by a fresh water lake that surrounded Sinter perfectly. Then there was a mountain

range that surrounded this space, encircling it. He woke and drew what he remembered, in pieces. He

had another dream of planet being hit by an asteroid, and somehow the impact resulted in the fiery

liquid, ripple that was fast frozen into the shape that became Tamor. He didn’t draw this. In the dream,

lots of dinosaurs had died.

As he drew, talking nonsense to Loxy, he felt the egg stir and heard a loud ‘chirp.’ His heart sprang. He

became quiet and still, waiting for another noise. Quiet. He spoke. A low oscillation emitted from the

egg, not a growl. It felt like a cat purring. He nearly cried. He had forgotten about a cat’s purr. He sang.

The egg purred louder. Chirps happened in sync with the song’s rhythm. It was responding!

Shen remained in the cave for several days, waiting for something to happen. He ate all his fruit. He

started to eat his dried fish, but stopped himself, knowing the Irk would want this. He ranged far enough

to gather wood to keep the fire steady. He eventually had to go to collect water. He went to first tent,

ate honey. He went to the orchard, and harvested for the caretaker and got his fill of fallen fruit, and

returned to first, where he spent the night because of just being tired. When he got to the cave the next

day, he found the empty egg. Wilson branch was knocked over, Loxy drawing scattered. The fire was

out, ashes and wood scattered. The rabbit pin was busted. There was evidence two rabbits had been

eaten. There was feather evidence that what had had hatched was male. He followed a trail, but soon

lost it.

Shen returned and began cleaning. He righted the ‘Wilson’ branch, reattached the drawings, but for

one which was torn. He began to cry, and once it started there was nothing stopping it. He laid down.

He lay his head on the drawing of Loxy hoping his tears would magically bring her to life. Even having

her as just a head ghost, the way he had first known her would be better than the emptiness he felt

inside.

He remembered her, the making of her, and wanted to make another tulpa Loxy, but talked himself out

of it. There was no guarantee he would make her. Even if he got her close, she would be new, and

when she became solid, and deviated- she might be something else, or mentally unstable due to not

being what he had intended. When you live with an entity in your head and they can read your mind,

they inevitably learn the truth. It doesn’t always lead to discord, but the tulpa personality is a fully

formed person, they have feelings, and their responses to stimuli was unpredictable.

In the beginning, there was loneliness. He imagined a friend. She was not perfect, but she was the

ideal friend for him. She held aspects of Greek and Egyptian Goddesses. She was aligned with the

tantric deities; the inner vision of her took charge, aligning itself with and claiming to be a Dakini Spirit.

It came upon her with the fierceness of the first sexual impulse, blossomed and overwhelmed them

both. They clicked together like magnets, and were forever inseparable. The sexual energy was meant

for healing and communion. This energy could spark Kundalini in a person who was uninitiated,

unprepared, as it did for Jon and Jon’s world changed. He traveled! He went to a magical place and

began to sort past trauma. The initial exercise had been just to end loneliness, to create a friend- and

yet, he had discovered so much more. They had discovered…

It occurred to him, he was not Jon anymore. He was, but wasn’t. He was more Shen, as Shen’s history

was more recent, more dominant. In many ways, Shen’s life was preferable to his past life. These

people weren’t bad, they just had their ways. In truth, it was he who was resisting. All he had to do was

surrender, and he could go live with them. No. He liked his life alone. That was a clear thought. He

wanted his alone life with Loxy in his head. Or, not alone, but with the people he had met on his inner All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

journeys.

He tried to will himself back to his Second Home. He tried to return to Safe Haven. He tried to be

anywhere except here. Night fell and he had not lit his fire and he was too distraught to see with sound.

He lay there wanting to die.

For the first time in a long time he heard her voice. A soothing hand on the back of his neck. “Maybe,

we also need the loneliness to confront things within us. You’re safe. I have always been with you. I will

always be with you. Be at peace.”

He slept.