Heavenly Encounter

Chapter 1 – Sleepless Nights      He was feeling strange - like his place in the world was uncertain. Unable to relate to his peers, although he tried. What once appealed to him had become somewhat lacklustre. He began to contemplate on life and the phenomenon of existence. What did it all mean? Time and space, and the unfathomable reality of it all.    It had been five days since he slept. The lack of slumber had made him very agitated and sensitive. Try as he might, he couldn't muster a lick of sleep.    In his agony and desperation, he carried himself on a nightly walk around the fields by his house. It was nearing the end of an Auckland winter, but the breeze was quite warm. The street was his, no sign of life around. He settled himself by a nearby primary school and lit a cigarette. As he puffed, he told himself he should quit this unhealthy habit, but the process of inhaling and exhaling tobacco calmed him down a bit.    Looking over the field he began to question his life choices and where they had taken him. Contrasting who he currently was, to who he wanted to become. He had just recently turned 22 and felt like he hadn't yet got a grip on his destiny. He thought about university and how it wasn't working for him. He had already taken the semester off and had no plans of returning any time soon, at least until he had found inner peace within.    His main priority was to focus on getting himself mentally right. He knew his parents would be looking down on his choice, but based on his performance, he thought it best. He couldn't focus on the lectures, and everything was beginning to seem pointless. He felt his time would be better spent elsewhere, at least for now. He took the last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the air, where the amber incandescent light did a series of flips before landing in the dew-covered grass.    The next day was the same. On the sixth day without sleep, he thought he better seek medical attention, as this was extremely unusual. He turned the TV on, and a show he had never seen was playing. He tuned in to a scene where two men were having a conversation. They were in a large beautiful room, what appeared to be the inside of an elaborately constructed cathedral. The appearance of one of them was different. His skin had a glow to it, and his eyes had the most vivid light blue Fern had ever seen. Then the unusual looking man spoke to the other man, and the words spoken stuck with Fern for some reason. He said, “He works in mysterious ways,” to which the other man just smiled and nodded.    Moments later he walked down the corridor where his mum was passing by, she gave him a lovely embrace.    “You look like you needed a mothers’ hug,” a radiant smile as she said it.    He could feel the warmth and love seeping out of her person. He welcomed the gesture, and felt it was time to tell someone about his ordeal.    “It's been a week since I’ve been able to sleep,” a tired exclamation.    “Have you seen a doctor?” she asked, concern emanating from every word.    “Not yet, but if can’t sleep tonight, I’ll go the next day.”    “Could be a serotonin imbalance,” she said, almost certain. His mother was a registered nurse, so she had experience with this sort of thing. She paused in thought and said, “You know yourself better than anyone, but please be careful, and stay away from anything that might aggravate the situation.” With that she made her way to her room, leaving Fern thinking about what could have caused such a situation.    His body was screaming for rest, but his brain kept firing on. He felt like his body might collapse, but yet his mind was active and alert. On-top of his unnatural lack of sleep, his appetite had been curbed. He went for a run around the block in hopes of exhausting himself. Afterwards, he could finally feel his eye lids giving in.    That night he lay in bed and eventually felt sleep carrying him away. After six days of ongoing mental torture, he knew he would be able to feel the sweet relaxation of a good night's shut eye.    In the dark his eyes suddenly opened, and at the foot of his bed stood the silhouette of a person. Fern’s body was paralysed, frozen still, and his vocal cords unable to emit a sound. All he could do was watch as the figure began to crawl up his body.    He tried to move, but it was as if the message being sent from his brain would not move down his nervous system to his legs and arms. The figure continued its movement up his body as he tried to call for help, but again he wasn't even able to move his lips. The mysterious person, or spirit made its way all the way up until it was face to face with him, with every movement Fern became weaker. From there he could see it clearly, covered in a dark cloak with long black hair. The figure hovered above him and smiled a most creepy smile.    Scared, he began in his mind to call out to anything that could save him, he settled on Jesus, asking him to deliver him from this startling visitor. Moments later the shape retreated to the foot of the bed and disappeared. In the same moment, Fern regained mobility and sprung out of bed to check, yet, nothing was there.       Chapter 2 – Meeting Amongst the Dark Ones        It was a large ominous corridor, lit by torches hanging on the sides of the wall. Slowly along its way moved a lonely cloaked figure. By her movements it could be told she was in no rush to meet what was at the end of the corridor. She paused for a second and retraced her steps. As she turned around to proceed down the path she came from, a loud voice echoed through the air bouncing off the walls.    “Azra, is that you?”    She froze in her tracks, unsure of what to do next. Her mind was telling her to be silent, but as she began to try and back away from the source of the voice, her footsteps, though gentle, gave her away.    “I can hear footsteps,” once again the calm but powerful voice proclaimed.    “Yes master, it is I,” she pronounced sheepishly.    “Then come into the main chambers, I am awaiting your report.”    She mustered up some courage and continued down the corridor. She knew that this visitation could end in a bad way, but she couldn't just run away from it.    As she entered the large room, all that stood there was a cloaked man in front of what seemed to be a large sacrificial altar. His back was facing her as he stared into the flames.    “Did you achieve your mission?” he asked, without ever glancing at her.    “I… I encountered a problem, master,” she said looking at the ground.    “A problem you say? Do tell more.” He turned around to reveal a grotesque and severely burned face, almost inhuman.    “I was not able to extract his life force. Something stopped me from carrying out my mission,” she delivered almost as an excuse. “Please do not be upset.”    “Me? Upset? I don't believe that is necessary, not yet at least.” He smiled and fixed his gaze upon her shaky eyes. “He wasn't able to detect you though?”    “I can’t say for certain. For a few seconds he laid there looking straight into my eyes, even though we can mask our presence from mere mortals.”    “Such a simple task and yet you have disappointed me. You know the forces that are at play here, and it is extremely crucial that none of our targets are able to realise their full potential. That could be dire for us.”    “I think he is beginning to awaken. From my observations in the last week, he seems to be transitioning,” she offered.    “Very well then. There is no time to waste, this issue must be laid to rest. I trust that giving you a second chance to redeem yourself should suffice?” This time he spoke with more vigour and seriousness in his voice.    “I shall not disappoint you, master. I will take a brand-new approach to this, and I aim to deliver results.”    “For your sake I hope so, or the fate that has met many in this room shall be yours too,” he said coldly, this time no smile in his face. “Is that understood?”    “Clearly, master!” she assured. “I have already devised a more intricate plan that should remove this obstacle from our radar. I am confident that this man will prove to be no threat.”    “Very well then. I am not interested in the methods, just the result. Now excuse yourself.”    With that, Azra bowed on one knee and made her way out the door back into the corridor, two thoughts consumed her mind as she progressed, which was; did he really see her? And what in the world caused her to reappear in their hideout? These were question she could only answer upon some digging, but she had a hunch.    She progressed to the lower chambers of the hideout, where she made her way into one of the rooms. Inside were large machines with knobs and gauges. The gauges were all resting at zero, some measured frequency in Hertz, and others had symbols of an unknown nature. Next to them was a computer screen shining green and a single keypad—it all looked a bit outdated, like something from the 1980s. She began to start typing on the keyboard. She first entered co-ordinates like those found in maps. For the latitude she entered -36.91411, and for the longitude she entered 174.91594. Once the co-ordinates were computed, she pressed enter. Shortly after, the screen came to life with an image of a white house. She typed into the keyboard and the image changed, now a room was apparent, in it lay somebody in a bed.    “Well, there you are,” she smiled. “The road to your end now begins.”    Azra then began to recite incantations in a foreign tongue, “Ashna va tuku, inorok, vei ma aratok, vei ma aratok,” with her hands stretched out into the sky, a dark cloud beginning to manifest above her. She again repeated, “Vei ma aratok, vei ma aratok,” and with that the cloud disappeared up through the roof. “Let’s see how you manage this one.” *    Fern woke up from his sleep. For a moment he laid there trying to make sense of what had happened the night before. He couldn't have been imagining it? The events that had occurred felt as real as day itself. He even remembered feeling the cloaked figures’ warm breath in his face—no dream could possibly be that real. But, alas, it was in the past. He figured the best thing to do was to keep it to himself. Nonetheless, a proclamation of such an incident would only cause people to question his mental stability. But then again, bottling it up was probably no better.    It was a bright day, much warmer than what it should be, go figure for the weather in Auckland, the city where you can have four seasons in a day. It made for the perfect opportunity to go for a walk, refresh the mind.    So that’s what he did. He first went to the bathroom, and looked himself in the mirror. Vain as he was, he thought he looked pretty good. His eyes showed tales of a man who had had adequate rest despite the fright, far from what they had displayed the past few days. His hair was bushy, like an untamed mane, flattened at the sides, a signature of slumber. He progressed to brush his teeth, rid himself of morning breath. A dollop of toothpaste over a stream of water and in no time the bitter taste was gone.  Then he cupped his hands and a torrent of cold water was splashed in his face, instantly diminishing any remainder of sleep that still endured. He stared out the bathroom window that framed his front yard, and the beauty of creation was all about. The flying songstresses filled the air with their calls. The mechanical beasts let out their howls, and every now and then humans transitioned through space.    He walked out into the corridor and was met by his older sister—she was up early as usual.    “Sup bro, you’re up early?” she let out.    “Hey, how are you?” he responded.    “Fine...” she said as she rushed past him to the bathroom.    With that, their short morning conversation was over. Not much was said, but as always, there was a mutual understanding of nice to see you and have a good day.    He entered his room, the last in the corridor, and quickly put on something half descent before exiting through the back door.    The morning air was refreshing. He walked down Botany Road towards Pakuranga Road and took a left into Bradbury rd. He grew up in this neighborhood; it really did feel like home. An elderly woman walked past with her little canine leashed up.    “Good morning,” she smiled as her pup scampered around trying to get a quick sniff.    “Morning,” he offered, smiling simply out of politeness, but also because the dog was so adorable in his inquisitive pursuit.    As he continued down the road he began to reminisce. There were countless parties he had been to here. A close and beloved family friend lived down this road, which he regularly visited. There were often times he would take this route to and from school. All of these things, and so many more, raised a smile not only in his face, but within his inner being.    Across the street there was a group of lady’s power walking. He didn’t pay much attention, but he clearly heard from their direction, “I came to parties here.”    He thought that odd, as he was just simmering on that exact thought, he dismissed it as nothing to drive himself crazy thinking about.    By now he had almost walked around the block and was back to Botany Road. It was a nice walk; one he had enjoyed. It was a little past 8 am, and the road was energized with activity. Children were running excitedly on their way to school. The road was painted maroon, the color of the nearby primary school uniform. Traffic was backed up, what only an hour ago looked like a lowly populated area, now looked overcrowded and chaotic.    By now his father had already gone to work—his parking spot empty. His younger brother had also gone out to clock in the hours. His sister too, off to earn her living, leaving only his sweet mother as the sole occupant of their humble abode.    As he neared the door, the sound of Christian worship music could already be heard. Their singer’s exaltations of the most-high was very admirable at the least. He thought to himself, they’re either trying to make up for some first-degree sins, or maybe, and it probably was the case, they really experienced the presence of the almighty in their life. Not to mention if praise and worship saved your bacon from being barbecue pork, one could see that as a very good motivator.    He opened the door, and there stood the lovely Star. She was putting her lungs through such a vigorous exercise that she didn’t even notice him making his entrance.    “Hillsong today is it,” he yelled with a smirk loud enough to grab her attention.    She jumped as his voice met her ears, throwing her of her worship game.    “Fefe, you scared me,” she fretted in her most adorable accent.    “Just trying to put the fear of the Lord in you,” he laughed, to which she also smiled.    “And how are we today?” she inquired.    “A lot better,” he offered. His revelation seemed to have curbed some deep-seated anxiety within her, her face relaxed and brightened.    “So, what will you do today?” she continued.    Fern paused in thought, such a simple question, yet the answer he didn’t quite have. It was only a Tuesday. Most people would be at work, but he had afforded himself the privilege of an impromptu vacation. Besides his weekend job at the amusement park, his schedule was open.    “I’ll figure something out,” he said as he walked past her towards the bathroom. *     “It’s almost complete,” was heard, followed by rambunctious maniacal laughter.    Just at that moment, Azra was journeying down one of the hallways, when her attention was grabbed. She trailed the laughter.    “And what have we almost done?” she asked, lining the door frame which opened into a large laboratory.    “Oh, just one of the greatest achievements in modern science,” he smirked.    “Do tell. I am not as scientifically gifted as you are...” she offered with a smile. “But I do know a great achievement when I hear one.”    Indu, vain in his intellect, lit up at the compliment.    “May I direct your attention to subject no. 32,” his index finger pointed towards a cylindrical containment chamber. Within it a figure swam around in greenish fluid.    “So, what exactly am I looking at?” she squinted her eyes. “A deformed chicken?”    “You mock such great achievement,” his voice not fully, but slightly letting out scorn. “It’s all right, I wouldn’t expect such understanding from the likes of you.”    With that Azra let out a hiss and a snarl; she did not appreciate being made felt intellectually inferior.    “All right Mr. Great Scientist, walk me through this,” she offered sarcastically. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”    “Well, I suppose I could—sharing is one of life’s charitable gifts,” he said, his back turned to her. “After many attempts, 31 to be exact, I have finally come close to fusing two differing genomes that normally would never fuse.”    “Two different genomes?” she was intrigued, brows raised in thought. “Fused as in what?”    “You see, think of a genome as paint from a brand, in a*****e full of paint from different brands. These specific brands cannot mix with paint from other brands, they may only interact with their own brands, and make new variants of the same paint brand. Such as human DNA cannot mix with say, a hounds DNA.” He turned to reveal his face, late Victorian gold-rimmed glasses framing his aged, yet vigorous visage. He pinched the sides of his glasses as he aimed his stare directly at Azra. “Until now!”    “So, you are implying you’ve outwitted nature?” She thought this idea most remarkable.    “If I must be honest, not fully. I have spent a great deal of time, effort and frustration trying to understand the essence of life,” he offered eccentrically. “From organisms to cells, from cells to DNA. genotypes, phenotypes, alleles, chromosomes, and everything that makes anything, anything,” he sighed. “But, through determination and persistence I feel I have entered the final phase.”    “So, your work is not complete?” she almost mocked.    “Is anything ever complete?” his rhetorical silenced her.    His medium figure walked across the room beyond the containment chamber, past a large desk, fully decorated with loose papers, where beakers and tubes in racks stood tall like the skyscrapers in city skylines. Furthermore, he continued until he was by a large vintage cigar English club chair. The chair was in the corner of the stone-masoned room, next to a crystal coffee table supporting an ash tray balancing a half-smoked Cuban.    Indu sat himself in comfort, folding his legs the way men of business do, and gently lifted the cigar with his right hand. With his left, he reached inside his lab coat and pulled out a vintage silver-sterling lighter emblazoned with intricate and beautiful patterns.    He signalled at Azra, who still stood there with no apparent purpose. He made the gesture that most people instinctively know means you’re excused as he placed the cigar in-between his lips. She turned around, and slowly headed out into the corridor—the earthy smell of the cigar seeming to escort her off. *    Fern was out of the shower and feeling fresh as ever. He investigated his wardrobe and gave thought as to how to present himself to the world today. He sifted through his clothes and gave eye to the top shelf where shirts were neatly folded. He agreed on a plain white tee, which he picked out from the middle of the stack. He then retrieved some black skinny jeans, and to finish his presentation, slipped on some black and white Nike sb’s which had been gifted to him by his brother.    Next to his bed was a bedside table which held his wallet and keys, which he swiftly grabbed and pocketed. As he made his way down the corridor, his mother emerged from her room.    “Off to enjoy your day?” she smiled.    “Yup. Just going to cruise around for a bit,” he said.    “Ok, go with God son,” she gestured.    He reached over and planted a kiss on her cheek.    Out in their driveway awaited his mode of transport—a 1998 Lucino in an appealing emerald green. It by no means was the prettiest thing on the road, but driving it filled him with joy, as it belonged to him. He walked around it and pressed the immobilizer. The indicator lights winked for a moment, and the sound of the locks giving way was heard. He slid into the driver’s seat and brought the machine out of its slumber.    He journeyed south on Botany Road; the footpaths had returned to their emptier existence. Every now and then the odd elderly drove their walkers down the footpath. He drove past the X-Treme bowling centre towards the botany junction. He knew Al would be home.    He entered a recent development complex. The houses looked nice, the roads were a bit tight, but it probably served to slow traffic. At the end of the cul-de-sac to the left stood a duplex, number 10. It was styled in the fashion that seemed to be all the rave in the development game around the area.    He pulled into the driveway and parked. He tried the knob on the front door, but it was locked, so he knocked.    Out came his long-time friend, so close he regarded him as family.    “What up my guy,” he offered a welcoming hand.    “Upto bum-fluff,” he reached forward and grabbed his hand, interlocking them in a gangstarish handshake.    They went past the main atrium where family photos and works of art graced a glass table. One message bearing artwork caught his attention. It read “life’s a song”. In consideration that seemed to ring a truth.    “Got a cig?” asked Al.    “Yea,” was the response as he exposed a pack. They went past the living area, through the sliding doors, and out into the backyard.    Al was the first to light his cigarette. After the flicker of the lighter, he handed it over to Fern, who also sparked up his ciggy.    “What you been upto?” asked Fern.    “G, nothing much, just chilling,” he said in his usual carefree way.    “Bro you won’t believe what happened to me last night,” smoke escaping through his lips.    “What?” he laughed. “Don’t tell me something gay happened?”    “Do you believe in ghosts and spirits?”    “Nah g, don’t come with that kinda shit...”    “Bro, this creepy thing was in my bed last night. Crawled up my body while I laid there stiff, unable to even make a sound,” said Fern with a strange excitement.    “G, you out here summoning demons and s**t?” Al laughed. “Out here taking gremlins to bed.”    “Hahaha! You can talk with some of the girls you’ve slept with,” Fern joked back. “But then I cried out ‘Jesus’ and the thing disappeared behind the foot of the bed. I was like whata f**k!" he took another drag. “Got up to check and there was nothing there.”    “Nah g, that’s some freaky shit.” Al looked to be thinking about it more deeply, but his usual disposition usually gave the impression that even under great thought, he really didn’t give much of a care.    “Anyway, what you been doing? Any nightly visitors?” Fern smiled.    “Nothing like your s**t, just being trying to figure things out.” Al took the last toke of his cigarette.    “Interesting. How’s work going?”    Al had this extreme talent of finding employment quickly, and then losing it even quicker. To this day his jobs numbered so many, some would say he was overqualified at handing in CV’S.    “Just waiting on this other job I got lined up,” he said meekly. It seemed even he was tired of always hunting for a job.    “You always get a job, you’re lucky that way.”    “Yea…” his word stretched.