As I sat at seemingly safe space picnic table outside chill country store in rural my world, the unexpected happened. A portal to the time tunnels opened, which I immediately recognized because they looked just like the other time tunnels, also that red-green glow as seen with Railroad Time previously was aglow, so I (wrongly) figured, “Oh, Rey-Rey heard my ‘Meet up!’ thoughts and got Railroad Time to open a portal.” But I was wrong on this account.
Portal closed behind me upon entering, which distressed me, yes, but once you’ve entered bizarre supernatural tunnel through questionable opening, not much you can do once it closes except move forward, so I swallowed my stress and expelled in seven deep heart-cleansing breaths, and stepped deeper into the unknown. I didn’t really know which direction to go, didn’t have any dollar store glow sticks with me, so all I could do is chill, let my eyes adjust, and try to follow what seemed like the path towards Railroad Time’s aura in the distance.
Sense of direction is a valuable tool in any world, and one I have utilized extensively, being blessed with a good sense of it in my real physical world. However, in the dark, this tool is dulled, and combine the space-time question marks with this dark realm I was inside of, it’s likely even more dullard. But I tried to move opposite the portal, which I assumed was at Ali’s country store rough location in a parallel universe aboveground from where the time tunnels existed underground deeper in Buckingham. This is assuming a lot on my part, but what else could I do?
While slowly navigating this darkness though, lights came up behind me, a dark red-black color, which seems weird to say a blackness within the blackness but it was literally a black darker than the full blackness I was already in. So much of these other realms are hard to explain because they are similar to what we know, but magnified or multiplied beyond known levels that are easy to translate.
This color closed in on me pretty quick, and it wasn’t Railroad Time color at all, which I soon learned why. A pack of shineface men in old-timey clothes carrying torches which gave off that red-black color surrounded me, holding these torches out towards me. A babble of voices judged at me…
“He ain’t no runaway.” “He looks like one of them future boys though, probably helping them hide.” “Yeah, he looks like a future boy, alright. We should hang him, save us all the trouble.” “Them future boys always lyin’, always talkin’ bullshit.” “He’s probably with them [n-words].”
(Editorial note: for purposes of this thing, I have redacted all the n-words, even though these men spoke the unredacted n-word. Seems weird any one word would be redacted over any other, but the fact of space-time presence matter is more than anything, I’d feel uncomfortable about using the n-word, even under the guise of relaying what these dudes were saying. Ultimately, this feels correcting known stupid with probable stupid, but insert shrug emojis because that’s the world I live in every day. What can you do?)
Eventually one of these guys, who must’ve been the leader of this pack, stepped forward, looking down at me. “What’s your name, boy?” he asked. I told him my name. “What kinda name is Raven, boy? Where you from?” I asked who they were instead of answering, and that was all they needed to swarm on me like a pack. Before I knew what had happened, I found myself strapped to a stone table, smooth stone but it smelled of animal carcass and vulture decay, and the men were chanting over top me, their torches lighting the area, and they were chanting, in creepy stereotypical Illuminati ways, “Remove his power from his time and his body, take it off him and put it on me, the master of all times, the master of all races against all clocks, the enforcer of grid beyond the three known axes, into the other realms. Remove all this simple man’s creations, take it off on him and put it on me, the master of all creation.”
No doubt, it was a highly stressful situation, and I tried to maintain calmness with more deep heart cleansing breaths, but my heart started clenching like twenty-three anxiety attacks hitting at once, and my arms and legs were being held down by this wretched pack’s fist-like hands, and any normal person’s normal reaction to such a strong anxious moment would be to curl into protective fetal position, physical body mimicking the internal safe pose, but my arm, leg, leg, arm, and head were held outright, spread vulture, and susceptible. I felt like I was gonna die.
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