Lost Soul: [Final] Chapter Sixteen
A boy’s quest to remember his true nature [Fantasy fiction inspired by an ayahuasca journey in Putumayo, Colombia]
The portal keeper rested her elbows on her heavy, mahogany desk. Next to her right arm was a long feathered quill and jar of ink. There was no high-tech apparatus on the desk or in the room. Not like the fancy screens in the medics room that Marra operated with a flick of the wrist. Everything looked old, very old. In front of her, there was a book the size of a breeze block open until the last few pages. The left page was extravagantly illustrated with geometric shapes. The right was fresh untouched parchment. The portal keeper delicately picked up the quill and dabbed the nib in the ink jar. Her skin was wrinkly and aqua blue and her hair was thin and grey, but, despite her old age, she still had the dexterity of a prime pianist and the posture of a royal.
“Human souls are supposed to be born into existence for heaven’s sake!” We can’t just send him back. Do we even know how he got here in the first place?” She looked down her nose at Marra, her half-moon spectacles resting on the tip of her perfect nose.
He stood barely two strides from the door. The room was large and cool and smelled like a public art gallery. Their words bounced around the emptiness as if they were talking inside a tin can.
“We believe the fungi had something to do with it,” Ma’am. Marra said, “Acting on behalf of the Healer, I might add.”
The portal keeper flexed her left elbow to ninety degrees and began massaging her temples with her index finger and thumb, contemplating her next quill stroke. She gave up and placed the quil down back in its holder next to the jar of ink.
“Fungi. Of course. I bet Mother Earth was involved, too. She’s been frightfully quiet since the boy arrived.”
“All I’m saying is that we can’t have every human soul blasted back to the realm of infinite possibilities to face their darkness and then go back to their human existence like nothing ever happened!”
“On that, we can agree, Ma’am.”
With a grimace, the portal keeper eased herself out of her chair in stages. She grasped her cane leaning on the side of the desk and limped over to the balcony on the far side of the room as gracefully as possible for someone so frail and in pain. The room was dim other than the beam of light shining through the open balcony. Old visions of Atlantis hung on the walls around the room. Some even moved and sad songs about the lost city were sung in a forgotten language. The nostalgic melodies took Marra by surprise and he had to wipe his watery piercing blue eyes with the collar of his tunic.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Marra”, said the portal keeper, without breaking stride or gaze.
She rested her cane in the corner of the balcony and then used both hands to support herself on the stone in front. She paused. The sky was half as blue as the Earth’s oceans and half as black as the infinite universe. A horizon above the horizon. Three moons stitched the contrasting colors together. One on top of the other, like buttons.
“Let him in, then.” She said, finally.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Marra, who still hadn’t moved another stride from the entrance to the room, clasped the golden doorknob and pulled it open just wide enough for his face to see the boy. He gave him a look as if to say, don’t say anything stupid in the kindest possible way, like a school prefect protecting a first-year from the hot-headed headmaster.
The boy walked in, shoulders back, head up, his eagle perched on his shoulder. Marra looked impressed. This wasn’t the cowering, grey boy he met in the hangar. He looked taller, stronger.
The portal keeper didn’t move a muscle. She continued to admire the moon’s formation.
“Come here, boy” Marra whispered, placing his hand on the small of the boy’s back, guiding him forward. The boy hesitated and then strode toward the balcony.
“So you want to go back?” Said the portal keeper with her gaze fixed on the moons
“Yes…Yes, Ma’am,” the boy stuttered.
“May I ask why?”
The boy looked at the Eagle, now perched on the edge of the balcony. The perfect patterns in its yellow irises, glowing with the knowledge of a thousand lifetimes.
“Because there is still hope.” Said the boy.
“Hope. We had hope, once.” The portal keeper turned to face the boy. He was taken aback. He was expecting a wrinkled old woman. She was beautiful. Her skin looked taught and her jaw strong yet feminine. Her eyes were big and brown and her lips full. The only signs of age were faint crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes and the scorn etched on her face.
“Do you believe can save your human race from their darkness?”
“Not alone. But there are more people like me. People who are becoming aware of their light.”
You see that moon, said the portal keeper, cutting the boy off bluntly. “The one hanging in the blue sky?”
The boy nodded.
“As a little girl, I’d lay on the sandy banks of Atlantis and stare up at that moon. Our moon. It filled me with hope and belief. The belief I could lead Atlantis into a new age. One free from the plights of darkness. Now look at us. Another lost civilization. What makes you believe…” she paused.
“…humans could do otherwise?”
“Don’t be so hard on him, Anja.” Said a soft, feminine voice, like a mother singing a lullaby to her child. It sent a pleasant shiver through the boy.
The portal keeper’s face changed. Her hard scorn became a warm smile. She showed her glistening white teeth to the boy and the wrinkles at the sides of her mouth turned up too.
“Life is hard,” sighed the portal keeper, her smile fading.
“Only if we make it so,” replied the voice.
The boy looked back and forth between the moons and the portal keeper.
“Is the voice, that?” Said the boy, timidly pointing at the moon in case he might offend the voice.
Both the portal keeper and the feminine voice laughed. The same way someone may laugh at their pet doing something cute, like chasing their tail.
“Hello, my child,” said the voice.
“I remember you’re voice,” said the boy. “Now I remember how I got here. The fungi helped me back on earth, didn’t they?”
“I knew it!” Said the portal keeper, triumphantly, as if she’d solved a long-unsolved murder case. She overexerted herself with glee and stumbled backward, but the boy was there to steady her.
“Thank you,” she said. “One forgets their age from time to time.”
“Nothing gets past you, Anja.” said the voice, as if she were smiling from ear to ear.
“The fungi have been a great ally in rooting out the darkness. In revealing the truth. Now I hope their spirit is shared by the people on earth outside of the ancient traditions. And lead the way for Earth’s great plant teachers to heal free from fear.”
“And I hope my skepticism of the human race is proved wrong, Mother.” Said the portal keeper. But you know I can’t send the boy back through the portal.”
“Yes, the Mother said softly. There is another way. I believe Master Ivaylo has the key.
“Shall I send for him?” Said Marra.
“It appears the boy’s friends can’t leave his side for a moment. You might want to let them in.” Said Mother Earth.
Marra twisted the golden door knob. The thick oak door clicked off the latch and under the weight of companions vying for a position to place their ears on the oak. The door swung open as if it was hit with a battering ram. The force knocked Marra backward and he jumped like a startled cat away from the crumpled souls on the floor. They looked up guiltily.
“Sorry, Ma’am, Mother, Marra” Alexander said, directing his apology at each of them with the utmost respect.
“Oh do get up. The lot of you.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Alexander, Andrea, and Ivaylo said in harmony like scolded school children.
They dusted themselves off and stepped through the billowing white linen curtain onto the balcony. Alexander stood behind the boy, his hands on his shoulders with Ivaylo and Andrea on either side.
“I’ve never seen a bunch of misfits like it,” said the portal keeper, continuing her headmistress demeanor.
“Yet, it appears you’ve all shown extraordinary bravery to guide this boy on his journey. I see your resolve has been tested on more than one occasion. I commend you all.”
“Thank you, Ma’am, it’s been our pleasure,” Said Alexander. And he squeezed the boy’s shoulders. The boy winced.
“So, Master Ivaylo. I understand you have a key back to your dimension. Is that correct?” Said the portal keeper.
Ivaylo patted down his worn grey-green trenchcoat. First the large square front pockets. Nothing. Then he peeled open the lapel and dove his hand deep into the inner pocket, fumbling around as if he was blindly looking for a set of keys at the bottom of a backpack. Finally, he pulled out a perfect mushroom. He let it sit on his open palm. It was a little smaller than his fist and hovered ever so slightly above his tanned skin. The cap was red with white blotches, connected to a bone white stalk. It glowed a bluish hue, like a rare jewel.
“This, Ma’am? Said Ivaylo, his arm still outstretched, mesmerized by the magical mushroom in his grasp.
“Extraordinary,” muttered Marra.
“Quite,” said the portal keeper. “Mother, you never cease to amaze me with your creation.”
“You flatter me, Anja. The fungi are an extension of all living things. They are present during birth, death, and everything in between. I’m grateful I can communicate with my children through them before their bodies return to the earth.”
“Now then little one. It’s time to return. To let your light shine and touch those around you.”
The boy bowed his head, looking down at his glowing body. He felt gratitude and love and pride at how far he’d come. But also desiderium for what he would be leaving behind in the realm of infinite possibilities.
“So this is it?” Asked the boy.
“For now,” replied Mother.
Ivaylo pulled his palm slowly away from beneath the mushroom. It floated in mid-air against the backdrop of the three moons and half night half day sky. He stepped back and the companions, Marra, and Anja, stood in a circle around the magical mushroom. Without a word, Alexander took the boy’s right hand and Andrea took the left.
There was a flash of white light. Then pink, purple, and green shapes merged and melted together like paints mixed on a pallet. The mushrooms had begun their song and dance. The boy let go and opened his eyes in a familiar land.
