Written by Patrick D. McNamara
November 14, 2019
10:47 PM
Author’s Note: This was the first of 4 short stories for a challenge I did at the end of 2019, writing 1 to 3 pages of fiction every day. Always one to drop routines, I only made 10 entries, but I did end up finishing drafts of all 4 stories. I plan on releasing some of them here and potentially submitting the longest one to a sci-fi literary magazine.
There are five slices of bread left on the loaf. An odd number. That’s no good for anyone who eats their sandwiches two slices of bread at a time. The last slice will be slid into a sandwich for a double-decker effect, or it will have to be used on its own with jelly or something. I take a mental note of this and move on.
I move to the wall closest to me and feel it. Press on it. Feel the texture of the paint on my fingertips. It’s a simple but very effective method for anchoring one’s self in the surrounding space. I’ve only been astral projecting for a few days now, but it’s been a sure-fire way of retaining lucidity while I’m out of my body.
Astral projection is something I had shrugged off as either bullshit or next to impossible. But having ventured into spaces beyond the physical boundaries of my body, I can assure you that it is neither.
The wall trick works, and I am back on solid ground. Any stray thought or indecisive moment can completely derail an experience like this. The waters of the astral plane are precarious, but I’m no stranger to a challenge.
The next move I make is predetermined, so as to avoid indecision. I go to the leftmost cabinet and retrieve a chocolate truffle I left for myself prior to falling asleep. In an instant, I find the truffle where I left it. It looks decadent and feels cold. I wonder whether holding it for too long as a projection would cause it to melt.
As I think this, I see a sliver of light appear on the floor, opening up into a shaft that pierces the dark room. I see my roommate Paul poke his head out of the bathroom. He checks the room and does not see me, since I am invisible. He then does a crab-like waltz to his room butt naked and sopping wet. It appears as though he forgot a towel.
The unexpected nature of this sight is too jarring for me to handle. I feel myself sucked through a pressurized hole, almost like a subway tunnel digger being shot through a fault from the river above.
I open my eyes. I am laying in a fetal position in my bed, the blanket wrapped snugly around me. The brevity of the experience annoys me, but seeing as how it was a successful astral projection, I’m not too disappointed. I know that I am getting better at it, acting on good reflexes and not succumbing to the common mistakes of this venture. In fact, I did everything right. Pleased with the amount of progress I had made in such a short stretch of time, I lull myself back to sleep to try for another attempt.