Chapter 00: A Medium and a Ritual
(Matthew POV)
I smiled to myself, walking down the concrete path of the city I live in, just got off from work. Since I'm only seventeen, I can only work at a restaurant as a waiter; I had a good skill at it for some reason. Nevertheless, I made over $300 during my shift in tips. I heard the collective sounds of chatter from other people and the sounds of engines and horns resonating from cars all over the city. People with families and identities; I somewhat envy them.
My name is just Matthew since no one knew or was able to find my parents. I was found on the doorstep of an orphanage as a baby with a planchette tattoo on my back. The woman who was the head of the orphanage named me and raised me throughout childhood along with the rest of the children there. Growing up, I could see spirits of the children's parents watching over them. That's when I realized I was able to see and speak with them. I learned about many things from talking to spirits ranging from philosophy, science, street smarts, politics, etc. With my knowledge that I got from them and my curiosity to learn, I was able to graduate high school at fifteen years old. A handful of colleges wanted me to enroll to their classes, but turned them all down. My career could distract me on my hunt for my origin; who were my parents? Were they dead or are they still alive and off the grid, so to speak?
I have long black hair that somewhat resembles Devil May Cry's Dante's hair. I wore a black leather jacket over my Sons of Anarchy T-Shirt along with slightly torn blue jeans and black steel-toed boots. I have a rare eye color that's the result of a genetic mutation known as Alexandria's Genesis. It gives me the look of deep purple eyes due to lack of pigmentation in blue eyes along with no facial or body hair. I do not envy those who have to shave. On my right hand I wear a silver ring with a ruby in the center. It was the same ring that was found with me along with a 800 page black book when I was a baby. I only found out about it when it was given to me by my old caretaker the day I left the orphanage. Soon thereafter, I started to read it when I got my apartment. It was some kind of journal that belonged to someone. Maybe it was my father's manuscript before he died.
I decided to go back to my apartment to read some more of that journal when a familiar face flew up next to me to get my attention.
"Hey Matty!" the ghost greeted in a thick Italian accent, pointing both of his fingers at me.
"Jimmy! It's been a while."
Jimmy was a person my age who died in the mid 60's. He was what you would expect from a Greaser at the time of the 50's and early 60's. The slicked back black hair with a leather coat over a white t-shirt or tank top, blue jeans and work boots. I met him about six years ago when I was bullied in middle school. He taught me how to fight and be tough when needed and I eventually beat the tar out of them when they went to steal my lunch money again. Afterwards, they never even went near me once; they figured fifteen broken bones couldn't save them fifteen percent on their medical bills.
"So, have you figured out what that big ass symbol on your back means?" he asked, putting his ethereal hand on my shoulder. I shook my head "No" I deadpanned "Maybe that could be explained in my father's journal somewhere. That tattoo has been on my back since I was first found as a baby."
"The old man mustn't put it on you for no reason. Think about it; the tattoo probably appeared the same night you were found, maybe to mark you to be able to speak to all of us dead folk."
"So you're saying that I'm a walking Ouija board?"
He shrugged, "Maybe I ain't far off from the truth; just a hunch."
I slightly nodded in agreement "I should pay a visit to Old Man David Snake."
"That ol' war coot? I watched him go through multiple wars. Didn't he die from getting Progeria from nanomachines?"
"Yeah, he did. He was 35 when he got it. By the time he was 42, it killed him after completing one of his tours of duty."
"I died from a stray bullet from riot police when that one gang fight took place in Los Angeles."
"Glad you're dead; It's a real mess in the south central area."
"I know; gangs up the ass."
"Anyways, where does he hang out?"
"I last seen him at the cemetery."
"Right; where else would he be?" I said sarcastically. I altered my direction and headed straight out of the city.
We eventually made it out of the city and into the cemetery that was only a mile from the limits. It was dusk and the leaves were blown off of the trees surrounding the massive amount of graves. Standing there at a grave was a ghost in a military officer's uniform, saluting the tombstone. I walked over to him, the dead leaves crunching under my feet and I cleared my throat to get his attention. He broke his salute and turned around to face me.
"It's you. The kid with the planchette tattoo on his back that can talk to us" he spoke in a deep gravely voice.
"Yeah; the walking Ouija Board. I want to talk to you about something."
"Is it about reincarnation?"
I got caught off guard by forgetting that he can read others thoughts just my looking at their posture, body language and their facial expressions. All I could say was, "Y-yes."
"After death...after realizing your destiny in life and fulfilling it, you can pass onto the other side. Those like me and Jimmy here that stay either have completed our destiny and not wanting to go to the other side or we haven't and we can't cross over until we erase the memories of our past life and be born again. In a nutshell, religion half-lied to us. After dying, those memories from our past lives come back in a flash once we cross over, but even I am afraid of learning of who I was in a past life. However, it seems that you lived a past life as well and I'm sure that you want to know your true origin?"
I nodded "That's correct" I answered "There's this constant feeling like I don't belong here; there's something about my soul that I don't even know about."
"Sometimes, the origins of our souls come from different planets where other sentient life strives" he explained while looking up at the dimming light in the sky "It's just due to so much re-birthing that most don't even realize even after death that they came from another world in the first place. Now you..." he looked back at me "You didn't originate from this world; I can see it in your eyes" he mentioned, pointing at his dim blue eyes.
"M-my eyes?" I held my left hand up to the outside of my left eye.
"Yes. Something otherworldly about your behavior" he explained while lighting a cigarette "They just look like soldier's eyes; the kind that seen too much death and destruction."
"I should check my father's journal for any information regarding what you told me."
"Believe me kid, sometimes it's not worth knowing your past self" he warned while exhaling some smoke from his lungs "You could've been a mass murderer in a past life for all you know. So don't keep messing around with taboo rituals like the Raven Man summoning."
"What makes you think I would try THAT again?"
He made a quick chuckle "Kids like you are naturally stubborn; always risking your own lives for the truth. Reminds me of when I was your age, believe it or not, I was young and green like you."
I decided it was time to go since it was almost sundown. The sun began to disappear under the lines of the mountains. "It's been a pleasure talking to you, David, but I got to get home. See you soon." He turned around, sticking his left arm up "You too" he said before disappearing into the night. "It's time for me to get going; me and the boys got a meetin. You should join up sometimes" Jimmy offered me. I slightly shook my head "No, but thanks for asking; I got to check my dad's journal to see if what David said was true."
"Alright. You take good care of yourself, capiche?"
"Yeah."
The greaser ghost waved bye to me and disappeared with the falling leaves, a windy night is in store tonight.
In the illuminated street, I made it to the front door to the apartment complex. It looked like nothing much on the outside, just like every other in the city, but it's something to call home. The neighbors were cool too; mostly middle-aged and quiet, some are worried about my passion and were spooked at first when I first brought spirits with me, but got used to the noises that came from the ghosts. The complex has five floors and there are only two at the top as supposed to three on each floor. My room is on the top floor, next to my landlord. We don't talk much, but he's nice enough to give me helpful tips on how to survive financially and I help him out carry out his garbage.
I got up to the top floor and made my way to my front door when I was stopped by my landlord who had his door open and he noticed me while watching football on TV. "Hey Matthew" he greeted in his heavy Irish accent "How was work today?" I stopped in place and turned around "Got good tips today."
"Your rent's due in a couple weeks; for someone like you, I don't expect much. As long as you stay out of trouble, your rent'll stay low."
"Thanks for reminding me Mr. Crowlen."
"You have a good night."
"You too."
I walked through into my room and shut the door behind me. The apartment was decorated with Wicca and spiritual paraphernalia on the walls, the coffee table and shelves that had some of my books that related to summoning and a bestiary on types of spirits. Over on the dining room table was the black journal that was my father's at some point, so I decided to take another look inside since I only read the first couple hundred pages. From what I read, he grew up as a military brat; his parents were military commanding officers of opposite units. He eventually joined when he was my age and from what I read, was that he had a knack for the life. He completed various missions and even a few wet works in his early twenty's. Like me, he was a medium who was aided by spirits to complete his missions. He was always one step ahead of the enemy. I flipped through the pages and a piece of paper fell out of the back. It was slightly burnt with scorch marks all over it. I unfolded the flimsy paper and it shown strange old-English writing. The same page where the piece of paper fell out from showed a note.
Dear Son,
You have read the note and I have to confess. We are not from Earth, sorry if I didn't live long enough to tell you that, but that's besides the point. It is important that you have that note; it contains a ritual to send you to where your soul originated as well as my soul. You will need the ring I gave you for it to work. My legacy lies with you; I know you have the gift of the sixth sense, use it well. It might just help you survive in our home. This does seem cryptic; I get that, but please read it and perform the ritual. Besides, you'll like our home, trust me. I know you have visions of it in your dreams, now is the time to confirm your visions. Be sure to draw a white pentagram with regular chalk and five circles with pink chalk with the symbols shown on the tome. I don't want you to repeat my mistake; for the love of Luna, do not-
The note stopped there as it looked like the rest of the note had burned away. This strange and cryptic note only piqued my interest in this tome I'm holding in my left hand while trying to analyze my dead father's note. Something's funny going on; it just doesn't sit right with me. He is right about my dreams. Ever since I was little, I had dreams of a silhouette of a pony, a demon, and lots of blood. In my dreams I heard screaming, strange noises, and a feeling of fear. Would attempting this ritual be worth it? I did see a castle and a woman snuggling up next to me. Who was she? Was I a king? Who knows?
The only way for me to drown out my suspicions is to perform the ritual and possibly bring protection along the way. I glanced over to the plaque on the wall that held a greatsword on it that was suspended above my couch. It is a replica of the Steel Greatsword from a game called Skyrim. It was given to me by one of my friends on my seventeenth birthday. Although, it is technically illegal for me to own something like that since I'm not eighteen, but my landlord said keep it in case if someone broke into my apartment. I took the sword off of the plaque and placed it gently on the floor.
I took a long look at the tome and its symbols. I walked over to my closet next to my bedroom and took out five pink candles along with a pick chalk stick and white chalk stick. I pulled out a black cloth mat for me to draw on since my apartment had carpet floors. I moved the coffee table to the side and rolled the mat out onto the center of my living room. I held the piece of chalk in my left hand and began to draw the pentagram. When it was a good size for me to able to sit in the center of, I drew circles on the points of the star and the symbols that reflected the tome. The symbols were a butterfly, a diamond, a balloon, an apple, and a lightning bolt. The symbols to me had no meaning, but if this is what I have to do to solve the mystery behind my family, then so be it. I placed the pink candles inside of the circles that contained the symbols. I lit the candles and sat legs crossed inside of the center of the circle, keeping the sword on my lap and read the tome out loud in Italian.
"Principesse del tuo giorno e della notte per favore mi aiuti nella tua batterico."
(Princesses of thy day and night, please aid me in thine blight.)
I heard the wind outside blow faster, pushing against the window. I swallowed my fear and continued:
"Mi Pave tua via al tuo origine della mia anima per qui e come il tuo buco vuoto."
(Pave me thy way to thy origin of my soul for here is like thy empty hole.)
Crashes of thunder could be heard and the circles started to glow different colors.
"Guarda nel tua anima per me perche non vi e la mia risposta a vedere."
(Look into thy soul for me, for here is like thy empty hole.)
The symbols rose from the circles and faced me and began to spin around the pentagram. My voice began to resonate in echoes throughout the building.
"Dimostrare a me che questo rito non e tragico per AMICIZIA E MAGICA!!!"
(Prove to me that this ritual is not tragic, FOR FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC!!!)
The symbols stopped spinning and colored columns shot out from the circles, breaking through the roof, sending concrete dust and rubble all over the floor. The columns reached out into the sky, a white light shooting down in the center, creating an impact that knocked the wind out of me. My vision got blurry and all I saw was me floating up into the air and shooting up into the clouds before blacking out, unaware of where my unconscious body is travelling. I'm riding into a world that's only known to my past self and I intend to find out before I die.
