It was around 7 months ago when I first made my report to the higher ups, many of whom immediately assumed I was lying. Some suggested it was for the sake of garnering attention, and others suggested that I was attempting to cause a panic within the community. Many had come to label me as a shit stirrer. But one of the higher ups, Garry, a man who I had collaborated with previous projects, was the only one who had bothered to investigate the issue. “And only because it’s you,” he had said.
The meeting took place soon after.
The Television droned softly with the sound of static. The dim, grainy screen cast an odd, whirring incandescence across the room that sketched thick, black shadows across the textured walls. The strange lighting created the impression of thick silhouettes that pulsed deeply within all the odd little crevices of the room.
Garry sat motionless for 16 minutes before his eyes began to flicker.
“Garry,” I said, “are you in?” There was silence for a moment.
“Yeah,” he said lowly, “I’m in.”
Sure enough, there was that odd, disjointed quality to his voice that I had found myself looking for. Over the years, I had come to recognise this as a subtle, but sure, sign of success. That strange, almost asynchronous manner of response. I knew that Garry was in. I barely needed to probe his answer for semantics, but for that feeling of disconnect. His body was here, but his mind had accessed a different plane.
“Good. Good. Stick around,” I told him. “I’ll be joining you in a few minutes.”
There was a brief pause before Garry responded. “Alright. I’ll just…float around,” he said flatly.
I sat up, and shut off the television. Garry’s technique involved the use of constant droning frequencies, hence the static. Mine did not. I lay back, closed my eyes, and began my own ritual, which many in the community know as the “dimensions of visualisation.” This ritual involves visualising each of the three core components of what one perceives to be the self: The unconscious, corporeal body; the nebulous one slowly stretching out, materialising above it’s physical counterpart; and the soul chain which binds them both.
When I had finished rendering that image of the trilogy, I focused my energies on the next stage of the process. I concentrated deeply on the body which occupied the immaterial world, imagined it rising slowly, and in one motion, I hurled my consciousness into the immaterial body. I had done it. I gave myself a moment to adjust to the odd sensations. It had been remarkably fast.
My vision cleared, and I was greeted to the familiar image of the dark little room, with Garry floating above his material body in the same nebulous form as I, his spectral form giving off a faint glow.
“Fuck. That certainly didn’t take you long. You’re bound to have broken some sort of record there.”
“I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve been practicing as long as I have.” I said, smiling. It was odd though, Garry noting how quickly I had done it. Garry, while not as talented in projecting as some of the other higher ups, had proven to be an excellent coordinator. He had links across the world and had documented various findings and conducted many studies into astral projection, or “remote viewing,” as he often insisted on calling it. He was something of an authority figure in a small, but fast growing community. I suppose that’s why I had drove 2 hours to meet him in the first place. “Well, I suppose we’ll get on with it,” and Garry mumbled something of a low agreement.
Garry and I stood abreast, gathering our mind’s respective energies, letting them splay out against each other and warp to form a sort of bubble. A type of mental cocoon that would link us, keep us together throughout the voyage.
“So then. The moon, was it?” There was a low, incredulous note to Garry’s question. “I’ve never been there myself. Though, you know I’m not one for space travel.”
“Yeah. Try to focus on your form now, and lean and secure it’s energy into my own. I’ll take it from there.”
When Garry had anchored his energy to my own, I began to cast my thoughts to the moon. It was never easy, to shift your mind from one place to another. Especially over such a great distance. But I had done it before.
I visualised the pallor of the alien landscape, and the light outside the cocoon slowly began to warp, as if being stretched and swirled like some sort of cosmic tie dye. And with a sudden, increased tightening of the light, the shift occurred. The light outside the cocoon began to unfold itself, sharpening into a perceptible image of a vast, ivory landscape pressing harshly against a black, star specked void.
“Follow me. I’ll take you to the sight of incident.” Garry and I began to walk, still encapsulated in our bubble.
“So, this is the moon,” Garry said. “No giant soul arm.”
“Giant Soul arm?”
“Yeah, there was a rumour going around a few years back about there being some sort of odd artificial construction on the moon. A giant mechanical arm that would pick up any cosmic travellers, such as ourselves, and throw them back to their bodies on earth. They said that the US government set it up when they got here in 1969. Probably to stop us from seeing something they were trying to keep wrapped up. I suppose the rumour was hard to believe, considering we’ve only really had verified claims of space travel in the last decade or so.”
“The moon seems to have a lot of weird rumours surround it—that’s probably the reason the council was sceptical of my report.”
“Probably.”
-
We continued our walk for what may have been 60 minutes. The stars were bright, and the light that reflected from the lunar surface would’ve blinded us, would’ve seared our retinas had we been here in a physical sense. The light was processed not physically, but mentally, through different wave lengths of observation than that of raw, biological photosensitivity. I remember feeling unsettled, yet inspired. Mankind had conquered all manner of climate on earth, and now, we had conquered even the imposing sterility of this vast satellite.
-
We soon crested the rim of a large crater, the site of incident, and Garry saw first hand the strange activity I had described in my report.
In the hundreds, or even thousands, tall, shadowy beings stood within the depths of the hollow. Each of the being’s long, wispy limbs seemed to undulate, constrict, and dilate in haphazard rhythms. The pigmentation in their bodies took on hues of grey and black. The colouration, alongside that unnatural, jittery motion of the limbs, gave the impression of TV static.
“Astral beings. But why so many?”
“That’s what I hoped you could tell me.”
Garry took a moment to watch the odd gathering of entities. He seemed visibly unsettled.
“The council seems to reckon there’s about 28 types or ‘species’.” Garry paused again, looking into the crater, analysing the curious forms of each of the beings. “But this type doesn’t look familiar at all. And across all the documented types, there have never been gatherings of this size.”
I looked at the huge gathering down in the crater. A small number of the beings appeared to be looking in our direction. But the strange contractions of their bodies made it hard to tell. “Garry, I don’t say this to cause any further panic, but to me, it looks like there are more of them now than there was when I first made the incident report.”
“Strange. Have you tried communicating with them?”
“No.”
“I think we should try. If they don’t seem like the talkative sort, worst case scenario is we’ve wasted another 10 minutes climbing down there.”
-
We stepped down the edge of the crater at a steep angle. But it was no trouble for us. After all, gravity did not affect us in this state. We could have hovered down if we wanted.
As we continued to descend the crater, I felt gripped by a sense of dread that seemed to grow in intensity as we got lower down. The deepest recesses of the crater were shrouded in a strange, impenetrable blackness. It was like a weeping sore, one that oozed thick black pus. It didn’t seem right that such thick shadow could gather in the harsh sunlight. But I pushed those thoughts down, ignoring them. We continued our descent.
Not far away from our path, one of the beings stood away from the others, facing into the dark hollow. Garry commented on the odd sense of dread that the gathering seemed to evoke. Because of this, we decided that this lone entity would be ideal, and perhaps safer, for making contact. Garry also suggested that only one of us should approach it. “It might see the both of us sauntering up to it as aggressive, and then we’ll definitely not get anything out of it,” he said.
As for the matter of who would make contact , we agreed on a game of Rock Paper Scissors. “Rock paper scissors.” My hand, splayed out flat, met with Garry’s balled fist and covered it.
Garry sighed. “Alright. I won’t be a minute. Stick around here.”
“Alright,” I said. I broke down the bubble which secured us together, and he began a steady plod toward the creature.
Soon after, I was able to pick up on the low sound of Garry projecting his thoughts in the being’s direction. Not in English, but a language of pure thought, one that the dark entity would have a better chance of understanding. He sent out a greeting in the being’s direction. It did nor exchange the greeting It simply responded by turning and facing him.
The two stood still for a moment, simply looking at each other. Garry sent out another greeting. That’s when I noticed that the rhythm of contractions in the astral being’s body started to grow in rapidity. The wispy limbs flared in a manner that appeared aggressive.
The being’s shadowy, poorly defined face wrenched backward in a motion that looked painful. Great rips started to form. The crevices in the creature’s head grew longer and wider. As they expanded, they ran into each other, becoming a singular, large tear across the creature’s head. This created the impression of a mouth, one that was shredded and mangled.
That was when the screaming started. Garry stood motionless, as if completely stunned. The astral being continued to emit deep, garbled waves that made me feel disoriented, even from where I stood. “Garry, come on. We have to go,” I called out, all the while trying to maintain my composure.
But Garry wouldn’t move. And the crowd of beings toward the bottom of the crater had taken notice of me. They began to shamble in my direction, and as they got closer, the feeling of disorientation only intensified. Their bodies pulsed with the same aggressive rapidity that the screamer’s did.
Things were getting dangerous, and panic set in. I knew that my heart would be beating dangerously fast back on earth. I tried to return to my body so that I could wake Garry up and bring him back, but something was wrong. I couldn’t go back. The cause became apparent: it was that distorted cry that the creatures emitted. Those horrible sounds seemed to shake the connection between the physical and metaphysical body. They seemed to corrode the soul chain itself.
Without even thinking, I ran and ran and ran. Luckily, the beings didn’t move very fast, and seemed to give up on their chase once I had ascended the crater’s edge. I had managed to escape.
When I had got far away enough from the crater, I found that I was able to return to my body, no longer discombobulated by the crazed screaming.
-
I jolted up right as my consciousness returned to my body. I took long, deep breaths as my mind raced with thoughts of the screamers, their horrible wailing, and that impossibly dark mass of shadows at the crater’s lowest point. And another thought: Garry. I turned, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him hard. I kept shaking. He was breathing, and his pulse remained steady, but he didn’t respond. I kept on shaking and shaking. No response.
-
A few days later, I sent my final report to the council. Simon, another of the higher ups, treated the matter with a degree of seriousness on account of Garry’s disappearance. I made my terms clear: I wouldn’t bring Simon to the moon; I wouldn’t be going back to that damned satellite; and I certainly wouldn’t be going anywhere near that infested crater.
Simon smiled. “Not to worry, I’ll be able to make the journey myself. You did well supplying the information.” Simon’s form took on a myriad of brilliant hues as the light bent and folded around him. A second later, he was gone. I don’t participate in the community much nowadays, but to my knowledge, he hasn’t been seen since.
-
I rarely astral project nowadays, and when I do, I never leave the planet. Instead, I travel to the hospital where Garry now lives (if such a grim state of survival can be considered living), permanently lying in a comatose state. I can’t bring myself to go in person. His family visit him regularly. I see them often, although the visits have been getting less frequent as the months keep rolling by.
If you are a practitioner of astral projection or remote viewing, I urge that you heed this warning: Stay away from the moon.