Psychic Thunder

January 26, 2018February 14, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

best mini boss ever

The fog rolled down off the mountains. The streets were full of mist. Kaan walked through the night, past two-story flats. The buildings were shorter here, preserving the historic skyline. All the shops were closed, their storefronts covered by metal shutters. Sidewalks were slippery; puddles, from the rain earlier this evening, opened into gaping vistas of the sky above.

Clouds chased the moon. Kaan found the building she was looking for in this quiet, crumbling part of town. Everything was bathed in orange streetlight. Kaan pulled out the keys from her black jeans and unlocked the grate. Shutting the door behind her, she followed the stairs down into the musty basement.

The room was dark except for an urn, with a small blue flame in it. Aspen came into view, her platinum hair illuminated by the frozen light.

“You showed up,” she said.

“Yes, it has been a while,” Kaan said. She pulled her ring out of the breast pocket of her black, buttoned-down shirt, and handed the band to Aspen.

“She probably missed you,” Aspen said, receiving the titanium ring. She removed a piece of white chalk from her dress pocket and began drawing a circle around Kaan and the urn. Then she entered the protective circle herself and dropped the ring in the fire.

Inside the circle, the flame arced up, almost licking the ceiling. In the flames, Aro materialized, sitting in the lotus position, levitating over the mouth of the urn.

“You’re like a djinn in a bottle,” Kaan said, grinning.

“You disappear for months and then you awaken me while I am meditating,” Aro said.

“A whole bunch of our old friends have disappeared into the woods,” Kaan replied, “There are very few left to hold the old band together.”

Aro had been a philosophy professor at Kaan’s college. Years later, Aro had also been the strongest psychic at the lab, with the highest levels of ESP ever recorded. There was nothing left of her body. Not even organs in glass jars remained.

“Too many espers are hooked on Heladon,” Aspen added.

Aro shifted in her asana and turned to Kaan, “Come here, let me look at you.”

Kaan came closer. The ghost, made of blue flame, ran her hands over Kaan’s head, her high and tight haircut. Kaan felt Aro’s hands as a movement of warm air. “You’re different from when I last saw you,” Aro said, “More scars.”

Kaan’s body felt heavy and slack, like she had lived double the amount of years in her life, “I missed you.”

“What can we do to hold our people together?” Aspen said.

Aro let her hands drop from Kaan’s face, “You need to find the blockage in the flow. You need to sit in a dry well.”

Channeler - Medium

Songs:

Cosmastly, “$KELINGTON CIGZ”

Cosmastly, “NOWHERE TO HIDE”

Cosmastly, “NO CONTE$T”

Health, “Tears”

Lost Xanadu

January 23, 2018January 26, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky ~ 1 Comment

Mississippi Sky (1)

Kaan walked through the streets in the late afternoon. A light rain was falling. Trash tumbled across the asphalt and collapsed into the gutter. Power lines crisscrossed the sky.

She walked past burned-out houses, the tops of their windows blackened with smoke.

The sky was beige, going orange, as it neared sunset. Kaan allowed her steps to fall in step with the extra weight of the 9mm on her waist, and kept moving forward.

The landscape grew more dilapidated. She passed more burned-out houses, some of the fires more recent, lawns still submerged in fire-hydrant water, water-logged and saturated, the long grass, not mowed in months, poking out of the brackish water, like tufts of hair.

Kaan passed a gnarled, dried-out willow, her way-marker in this area. Xan lived around here, at the edge of the woods, at the edge of night.

Xan’s house, was more of a shack, re-purposed, with faulty wiring and rerouted piping. The one window on the house’s façade loomed like an empty eye socket, a toothless smile.

The ridged, cast-iron door opened as Kaan approached, making her way through the fallen leaves. Xan appeared in the doorway, albino hair unkempt, wearing her usual stained all-white clothes.

Kaan came to the threshold, “Why do you continue to live here?”

Xan just gave her a frightened look. “I offered you space at the shelter; why don’t you live there?” Kaan continued.

Xan was not paying attention, instead looking around Kaan and expectantly at the package Kaan was surely carrying in her black trench coat.

Kaan sighed, “Do you have the money?”

Xan cast her forlorn, sunken eyes in Kaan’s direction, and produced from a soiled satchel a tangled wad of cash.

Kaan took the cash, counted the 100s and pocketed them. From her coat, she produced the package, wrapped in brown paper and duct tape. Heladon, the esper’s drug. Prevented complete identity disintegration – as Xan was clearly suffering from here.

“Here you go,” Kaan said.

Xan grabbed the package, and anger flashed through her eyes, before her face slackened into its standard flat expression.

Kaan, exasperated, turned to go.

“We were all in the same lab once, you know.” Xan said. The cast-iron door closed behind Kaan. The clouds opened, and the wind blew down from the upper atmosphere, in the final minutes of twilight.

a perfect dream