Peter Norch Chronicles - Wormhole E-Book

A.B. Nichols

• Herausgeber: Youcanprint
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Peter Norch Chronicles - Wormhole Wormhole, the second chapter in the Peter Norch Chronicles saga, is a political fiction in which present, past and future are interwoven in a journey through the folds of space-time. Redemption or self-destruction? Humanity is in danger, its destiny sealed in a clash between two Illuminati Orders in a far-off time. In a frantic race through parallel worlds, there is nothing the fearless Ashlyn Jones won't do to answer the mysterious cry for help from a distant future which is about to be wiped out. Amidst esoteric rituals and sinister conspiracies, the scientist Peter Norch sheds new light on the origins of Planet Earth. The clash has only just begun.

Leseprobe

Indice

Present Timeline

Chapter 1. Teenage angst

Chapter 2. Thembeka

Chapter 3.First convictions

Chapter 4.A Special girl

Chapter 5.New life

Chapter 6.Fragments of memory

Chapter 7.Scars

Chapter 8.The Temporal Flow

Chapter 9.Confidential material

Chapter 10.The Burren

Future Chronicles

Chapter 11.The decline of Civilization

Chapter 12.The Borders

Chapter 13.Confrontation

Chapter 14.The Entity

The Timeline Rift

Chapter 15.Peter Norch

Chapter 16.The Gift

Chapter 17.Temporal distortion

Chapter 18.Shadows of the future

Chapter 19.Burning truth

Chapter 20.The confession

Chapter 21.The initiation

Chapter 22.The Consul

Chapter 23.An act of faith

Chapter 24.Controversial answers

Chapter 25 – first part.Wormhole

Chapter 26.The Disowned

Chapter 25 – second part.Wormhole

Timeline Rift

Chapter 27.The Evo Cult

Chapter 28.The Divination

Chapter 29.Life Particles

Chapter 30.Return to Cape Town

Chapter 31.Genesis

Present Temporal Line

Chapter 32.A question of world safety

Chapter 33.A feeling of emptiness

Chapter 34.Frozen Siberia

Chapter 35.The City of Granite

Chapter 36.Extreme solution

Chapter 37.Collateral damage

Chapter 38.The League of Evatics

Epilogue. The broken goblet

a.b. nichols

peter norch chronicles

wormhole

The characters and events portrayed in this novel

are fictitious.

The implicit truths are not.

Peter Norch Chronicles

Wormhole

A.B. Nichols

Private Literary Property

© 2019 A.B. Nichols

www.ab-nichols.com

Cover: Illustration by Dave Ross

Graphic & layout: G.A.Z Magazine

ISBN | 9788831656351

Prima edizione digitale: 2019

© Tutti i diritti riservati all'Autore.

Questa opera è pubblicata direttamente dall'autore tramite la piattaforma di selfpublishing Youcanprint e l'autore detiene ogni diritto della stessa in maniera esclusiva. Nessuna parte di questo libro può essere pertanto riprodotta senza il preventivo assenso dell'autore.

Youcanprint Self-Publishing

Via Marco Biagi 6, 73100 Lecce

www.youcanprint.it

[email protected]

Qualsiasi distribuzione o fruizione non autorizzata costituisce violazione dei diritti dell’autore e sarà sanzionata civilmente e penalmente secondo quanto previsto dalla legge 633/1941.

To the Great Architect of the Universe,

an endless source of inspiration.

“The beginning is my end, and the end is my beginning. Because I am increasingly convinced that it is a typically Western illusion that time runs in a straight line, that we move forward, that progress exists. It doesn’t. Time is not directional; it doesn’t always move forward. It repeats itself and turns around itself. Time is circular. You can see it in events, in the banality of events and wars that repeat themselves.”

Tiziano Terzani

Italian Journalist and Writer

Present Timeline

1994 – 2028

Chapter 1. Teenage angst

Colchester

Eastern Cape, South Africa

2010

The news just in leaves no room for doubt as to how terrible the situation is. The last South African broadcaster still on-air, SABC1, just made this announcement a few minutes ago:

“Reports are continuing to pour in from the world’s largest megalopolises that Phase 1 of the conflict is now underway…”

What had seemed like mere warnings from experts in politics and international relations until a few months ago, has now become a terrible reality for mankind as a whole. The world’s population is about to be systematically reduced, and nothing can be done to stop it.

The greatest exodus in the history of South Africa is taking place on National Route 2. Tens of thousands of vehicles have been queueing for hours, towards both Cape Town and Durban. None of the vehicle occupants can consider themselves safe and there is nowhere in South Africa, or anywhere else on the planet, for that matter, where people can escape the scout drones of the PhaRifle Corporation.

All those people locked up inside their vehicles know they cannot escape the epidermic control. All they can do now is hope. Little do they realize that in so doing, they are making the drones’ work easier still. They might not know it yet, but they are lambs being sent to the slaughter.

“Darius, we’ve been stuck here for two hours now. We’re only three miles from home. Have you got the Addo Park pass with you?”

Freya MacLean has a strong personality, and she is rarely discouraged in the face of adversity. Situations like this tend to bring out her firm Scottish temperament. Heedless of the prohibitions the authorities have issued, she manages to convince her husband to turn off the highway and head full speed for the nearby gates into the national park where he has worked as a tourist guide for over fifteen years.

His powerful off-roader makes short work of the maneuver. He steers off the road and onto the dirt track a short distance away from the NR2. He is used to driving on rough terrain, particularly when customers ask him to turn off the park’s main road and head into the bushland. It’s not against the rules of the Addo National Park, but Darius Jikela is never particularly happy to do so. He respects the wildlife, and his descendance from one of South Africa’s oldest clans, the Xhosa, tends to take precedence when tourists with their clunky cameras and videocams ask him to go after an animal deliberately concealing itself from the prying eyes of visitors. “They deserve respect, too. They deserve to be left in peace. Imagine if someone came to your home and forced you to pose for pictures while you’re cooking dinner, or if they woke you up while you’re taking a nap!” he repeats angrily to his colleagues while they are taking a break, or in the evening to his family.

On reaching Mathyolweni Gate, the main entrance into the park, the four-by-four moves forward cautiously. The barriers are open, and there isn’t a trace of the guards who normally keep watch. Without a moment’s thought, Darius drops a gear and revs hard, speeding past the check-point and heading into the park.

From the rear window, the face of a child appears. She looks terrified, and is looking over towards the highway. Tears well up in her eyes as she sees what is happening a short distance away. Even here, the flashing lasers of the reconnaissance drones can be seen by the car’s occupants.

“Ashlyn look at me… look at me darling! Remember when we found that baby elephant that got lost?”

Freya is gently trying to distract her little girl. She is frightened, too, now. But first and foremost, she needs to protect her daughter. There is no room for fear.

In a race against time, Darius is trying to save his family. To do so, he needs to get as far as possible into the bushland. He knows every inch of that park like the back of his hand. He knows that an hour from where they are now, there is a hut equipped with survival provisions. The Rangers use it as a base. It has enough facilities and supplies to last them over a week.

A loud bang rings out as they are fording the Witrivier stream, and the heavy vehicle loses its balance. Darius struggles to steer the off-roader back on track, but manages to reach the opposite shore. One of the tires has been burst by a sharp stone on the riverbed.

“We’d better continue on foot. We don’t have time to change the wheel. Make sure you only take things you really need.”

The family sets off. Darius leads the way, with little Ashlyn in the middle and Freya bringing up the rear, protecting her daughter. The bushes in the savanna do not afford them dense cover, but it is better than being out in the open.

From time to time Ashlyn turns towards the coast, towards her home, trying to make out anything that can reassure her. “Daddy, what is all that smoke?” – “Stay close, Ashlyn, you might trip on a bush.” For a split second both parents exchange glances, revealing all their fears about what is happening a short distance away.

“The hut is near here, but we need to cross a clearing to reach it. We need to be careful. Let’s walk a bit faster.” Without stopping or slowing for a second, Darius scoops up his little girl.

They have only just left the cover of the bush when two big cats approach them with a threatening air. Darius passes Ashlyn to her mother and deftly pulls out the park ranger rifle he carries. It’s not the first time he has had to take up his rifle, but it is the first time he has done so to protect his family.

“I can’t shoot, the noise will attract the drones.”

He swings the weapon around his head in a desperate attempt to scare them off. The two cats react, separating and cunningly surrounding the three unfortunates. Seconds pass, then the male roars, attracting the female’s attention. Ignoring the meal standing in front of them, the big cats disappear. Freya and Darius are astonished, but a moment later they realize something far more dangerous is heading for them at full speed.

The parents exchange looks once more. There is no time to think. “Run, Ashlyn, run as fast as you can to that big tree. Don’t look back, whatever you do!” Freya puts her little girl down, and she starts running towards the bushes. In an attempt to act as a decoy, she starts zigzagging across the clearing. Darius is standing stock still, his rifle pointing into the air. He starts firing. Two, three, all five shots are fired, but the drones are so small he doesn’t even brush them.

The blinding sun is high in the sky, but the shadows have suddenly fallen over the Addo Park. Under the shade of the big acacia tree, Ashlyn cannot take her eyes off the bodies of her parents. They have been shot dead by the scout drones of the PhaRifle Corporation…

…      …      …

“NO, NO, go away! Leave them aloneee…”

“Ashlyn… Ashlyn wake up honey! It’s only a bad dream.” The girl’s troubled sleep is broken by her mother, Freya. “Is it the same one you had a few years ago?” she asks, concerned.

“Yes, mom. This time I was ten though. It was so awful…”

“Come here honey.” Her mother envelopes her in a reassuring embrace, easing her out of the terrible nightmare.

Ashlyn’s room – Recollection Diary – July 14

It’s started again. I haven’t had that nightmare for years. I thought the voices inside my head had disappeared, but they are back again. This time, it’s like they were… stronger, more real.

Perhaps it’s just my imagination. Maybe the first time I heard them I didn’t pay much attention. But tonight, it was like being catapulted back in time somewhere. I can’t really explain what it felt like. Nothing nice, that’s for sure, but it all seemed so real… too real!

I don’t know what to expect. I’m terrified of going through the same panic I felt when I was ten. What if it goes on for months again? I hope not, it’d drive me crazy!

I need to calm down and wait. But I have to take some kind of decision.

– August 07

I’ve made up my mind.

I don’t want to carry on like this. There is something wrong with me, and I have to find out what it is. Five years ago, I was too little and my parents didn’t want to get help. But now I’m nearly fifteen. I think it’s time someone tries to work out what this mental illness I have is!

I couldn’t help overhearing a big row between mom and dad yesterday. I’m pretty sure it was about me. I’ve never seen them so angry with each other. My mother wants me to go to a psychologist, but my dad is insisting that he wants to take me to a Sangoma.

I don’t even know what a Sangoma is. Perhaps it’s a kind of shaman from daddy’s Clan. Anyway, I was tired of hearing them arguing like that. In the end I just yelled at them to take a decision, and quick. They shut up pretty fast.

In the end my mom won, she always does with dad. Not that he’s weak, far from it, but she is really tough. It must be her Scottish blood that makes her that way.

Anyway, I’ve made up my mind. Next week I’m going to start seeing Dr Kotze. I haven’t told anyone at school, I don’t want them thinking I’m crazy. I need to play it down, or I really will go nuts!

– September 22

After the first month in therapy, Dr Kotze suggested my mother should bring me twice a week. I don’t know whether to feel worried or relieved. He’s always so mysterious with me, and I can never figure out if the therapy is going well, or if I really do have some kind of serious problem. The other day I asked him, “Am I crazy?” He just ignored me and said, “See you Thursday.”

I guess he’s just doing his job but I’m in a hurry, I need to know. Ever since the semester started, I’ve been shutting myself off from everyone. I’m worried that my friends will find out and start making fun of me. I’ve distanced myself from most people anyway, and I don’t want to lose the few friends I have left.

Dr Kotze recently got me thinking. Before starting the sessions, he always asks if I remember any new details from when I was small. “I’m pretty sure you haven’t told me everything about your childhood,” he always says. I don’t know if he does it to get me to react, or if he really does think I’m hiding something. What if it’s true? What could I have forgotten?

Chapter 2. Thembeka

Colchester

Eastern Cape, South Africa

2012

There are different kinds of friends, and Ashlyn knows it. She has found out for herself, but she’s a smart kid and has never made a big deal out of it. Over the years she has let several friendships go, but has always come out stronger the other side. To those who know her, she says “It’s important to know the people around us.”

She learned to gauge relationships with other people in her early high school years, a growth process helped by more than two years in analysis with Dr Kotze. He took her under his wing when she had yet to turn sixteen. Over time, he managed to foster some of the trust and esteem she had lost.

Now she has learned to distinguish those who approach her for personal gain from those she can consider real friends and confide in. Because for Ashlyn, that has become essential. Particularly since her relationship with her parents has become less than idyllic. She is tormented by this part of her life; so much so that not even her closest friends are allowed to crack jokes about it, not even to lighten her mood when she is clearly down or angry.

For this reason, two years on she is still seeing Dr Kotze. She is no longer suffering under the burden that first led her to go into analysis, but she still wants to continue the sessions to help her tackle what’s going on at home. It’s called fear of abandonment and is often experienced by young people her age.

– the start of a great friendship

Almost a year ago in Dr Kotze’s studio, Ashlyn met Thembeka, an apprentice a few years older than her, who has now become her closest friend and confidant.

They often crossed paths during that period, and instantly took a liking to one another. But it was only when Thembeka finished her apprenticeship that they began meeting up outside of the medical sphere, “in the real world” as they joke.

At first they just met up for a coffee or a short stroll in the center of Port Elizabeth. Ashlyn could hardly believe her luck at being able to spend a few hours with a person who was older than her but cheerful and outgoing. Until then, the only girls she had frequented were her own age, and it wasn’t easy tackling serious issues with people who were so young. The things they talked about were always the same: gossip, boys and shopping. Too banal for her.

One day, Thembeka gives a talk at Ashlyn’s school and then drives her new friend home for the first time. It is only a short distance, but the two girls laugh and joke as if they have always known one another.

“I can’t wait to turn 18 so I can get my license, too.”

“That way you can come and see me, too!” Thembeka smiled.

After turning into Wellington Street and continuing a few hundred more meters, the pick-up pulls over right in front of number 50.

“This is my house. You feel like coming inside? Just so you know, my mother might be in,” Ashlyn says with a slight grimace.

Thembeka seems distracted and looks around. “I think the Hakuna Matata is around here somewhere. I know someone who works there…”

“It’s right opposite us. My daddy works for them as a tourist guide in the Addo Park.”

“You’re kidding me! I know a big guy who works there, almost two meters tall. We call him Jiki.”

Coincidences happen, but two in a row is a bit too much. Ashlyn’s father is one meter ninety-six, and his South African name is Jikela, or Jiki to friends and family.

“No… I don’t think I know him!” she says, turning abruptly to open the gate into the drive. Confusing, even dangerous thoughts are racing through her mind.

They walk into the lounge and she offers Thembeka a seat. “Thank goodness my mom isn’t here! I’m just going up to my room, I’ll be right down.”

‘How does she know dad?’ Ashlyn muses to herself suspiciously. ‘What if my parents have been falling out because of another woman… perhaps that woman! No way, it can’t be right. If it is Thembeka, she’s not getting out of this house in one piece.’ With doubts racing through her mind, she goes back downstairs to the person she suspects is causing the rift between her parents.

“You’ve never actually told me about your boyfriend? Are you seeing someone? Maybe even an older guy?” She underscores the last question with a caustic little smile.

Strange as it might seem, they have never broached the subject before. Ashlyn has always felt the need to hang out with people older than her because she wants to put the last few years of her adolescence behind her. As for Thembeka, it is precisely what she wants to find out.

If Ashlyn’s doubts are confirmed, she would feel used and would lose her trust in other people again. All the hard work she has been doing with Dr Kotze to improve her self-esteem would be in vain.

“There is someone… although I can’t really say I have a boyfriend…” Thembeka replies, nervously touching her earlobe.

“What’s up, does talking about it make you edgy? I think you’re hiding something from me…”

Thembeka’s eyes widen at her friend’s reaction.

She is an attractive black girl. Her African origins are visible in her features. Her large, expressive eyes are a characteristic that instantly sets a person from the African continent apart from the rest of the world. A feature so beautiful it instantly catches the eye.

“Thembeka, I want to ask you something, but I’d like you to be honest with me.”

“I know what you’re going to ask, but go ahead anyway. I’ll be honest.”

Ashlyn is pacing around the room, head down, without looking at her friend. She decides to spit the question out.

When she hears what her friend says, Thembeka can’t help but burst out laughing. “Who? Your dad? Hahaha!” She notices Ashlyn’s increasingly furious expression and goes over to her, placing her hands on her face.

“Hey little one, you really don’t get it, do you? I’m gay.”

A few moments pass after that revelation, but then the two girls burst into uproarious laughter.

“Sorry Thembeka, I got the wrong end of the stick. I had no idea…”

“Don’t worry, I’d have done the same thing. I was just worried you wouldn’t speak to me anymore if you found out I’m a lesbian. You’ve no idea how many people make a run for it! Let’s sit down,” she continues. “I’ll tell you how I met your dad, or should I say Big Jiki,” she adds with a wink.

Thembeka shifts from talking about her sexual orientation to how she first met Darius Jikela, the man at the center of the misunderstanding.

Thembeka tells Ashlyn about her life, revealing that she, too, belongs to the Xhosa clan, and that she met her father during one of the clan’s many get-togethers.

“I knew he was part of the Clan, but I had no idea he played such an active role in it.”

“I’ve heard your father has trouble getting your mother to accept that part of his life.”

When she hears this, Ashlyn recalls the day she first heard them arguing about her. She remembers her father saying more than once that he wanted to take her to the Clan for a consultation, whilst her mother firmly opposed the idea. She hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, but now she understands the tone of voice her mother used, and the way she criticized her father and his Clan. She had never taken any notice of it, or perhaps she just hadn’t felt it was important.

The girl’s story continues until she is interrupted by the arrival of Ashlyn’s mother.

“Hi, Mrs Jones.”

On recognizing the girl sitting next to her daughter, Freya does nothing to conceal her disapproval.

“Mom?!”

“Forget it, Ashlyn, it’s time for me to head off anyway.”

At that point the two friends say goodbye, exchanging a look that says they’ll pick up where they left off soon.

The Xhosa Reserve – Addo National Park section – Present Day

“I’m pleased you made it. I’d have liked to show you round our cultural center at Great Fish River but there will be another chance to see it.”

The Xhosa are the second largest ethnic group in South Africa, and the one that has played the most active role in the country’s politics. Thanks to their charismatic leader Nelson Mandela, the racial segregation known as Apartheid, actively implemented for over 45 years, was definitively abolished in 1994, restoring dignity and honor to the country’s black population.

But this is not what fascinates Ashlyn most. Nor is it the reason for her visit to the Xhosa reserve. Ever since she first started hanging out with Thembeka, she has become more interested in the mystical, magical side still practiced by the continent’s tribes. If it weren’t for the out-and-out refusal of her mother, she would have acquainted herself with it long ago.

She can’t deny that the sessions with Dr Kotze have proven fruitful. Without them, she never would have met Thembeka. But for Ashlyn, it is now time to learn more about her father’s side of the family.

“Come over here. I’d like to introduce you to our Sangoma.”

“Auntie, this is Jiki’s daughter.” The Sangoma observes the young woman without uttering a word. Her eyes seem to bore holes into Ashlyn. For a split second she shrinks away, turning towards her friend, who ignores the reaction as she addresses the Sangoma again.

“What did I tell you… You saw the Tree in her too, didn’t you?” The woman nodded again without uttering a sound.

“What did your aunt do to me? It felt like she was reading my mind, if that’s the right way to say it. And what’s a tree got to do with anything?”

“Our Sangoma is very powerful. Don’t be in a hurry to know, you’ll be able to learn more about our practices but not now, it’s not the right time. Let’s continue visiting the reserve for now.”

As days go, it couldn’t be more different from the days she usually spends with her schoolfriends. None of them would even consider spending a Saturday doing stuff like that. But for Ashlyn it’s different, she feels completely at ease in those strange surroundings.

As the hours pass, the two friends confide in each other more. Ashlyn has already visited the Park dozens of times with her father, but today she feels a strength she has never felt before in that place. So much so that she decides to let Thembeka in on her secret.

“Have you ever wondered why I go to the psychologist?”

“Not really, no. You know I don’t like to stick my nose in. I always guessed you’d tell me yourself if you ever felt like it! I noticed your anxiety from the start, even though you’re very good at hiding it.”

Ashlyn starts telling her about the nightmares she’s had since she was little, and about how vivid and lifelike they feel. She also tells her about the last few months, the terrifying flashbacks she has, or the voices she hears saying things she cannot understand.

“So, there you have it. Now you know: your best friend is a basket case!” Ashlyn says despondently, though not without a touch of irony.

Ignoring the last phrase, Thembeka leads her friend over to the Ndumba, the sacred temple in which the Sangoma practices magic.

“You have to take your shoes off before you go in. Your feet must remain in contact with the earth. Only then will you be at one with this mystical place.”

Once they are barefooted, the two girls enter the temple. Thembeka performs a ritual gesture with her hands and says some words which Ashlyn cannot understand before moving towards a low table in the middle of the room. On it is an average-size book. “Come and see,” she says, opening just after half-way through it to show her friend what it says.

“Why is your name in here?” Ashlyn says in astonishment.

“You’re not the only one that has secrets,” Thembeka replies with a smile.

According to the order of succession, she is going to be the next Sangoma of the Xhosa. “I’ve been preparing for that moment since I was five.” The role should have gone to her mother, but she died, so the honor falls to her first-born.

“I can’t do all the magic yet, but in a few years I will be able to reach the same level as my aunt. Until then I’ll study to build up my knowledge and experience. I could have turned it down and left the privilege to someone else from the clan, but I’ve always been fascinated by shamanism. I wouldn’t have said no for anything in the world!”

Evening has fallen on the Eastern Cape when the off-roader carrying the two girls reaches the Jones’ house. Before saying goodbye, Thembeka leans towards Ashlyn and confides “You are my best friend. Remember you can always count on my help… for any problem at all!”

For Ashlyn, the day signals the start of her fascination with the mystical, magical arts of the Xhosa. Her quest to learn about spirituality and the occult has only just begun.

Chapter 3.First convictions

Colchester

Eastern Cape, South Africa

2012

The temperatures remain stable throughout the year but in the Eastern Cape province, the start of the summer season is just around the corner. For the inhabitants of the main coastal towns, November is a sleepy transition between the busy months of safari tourism, and a relatively peaceful time to enjoy the sea and evenings in the coast’s lively venues.

For Ashlyn, this November is charged with much more meaning though. Tomorrow afternoon, she will officially become an adult. After months of eager expectation, the much-awaited moment is about to arrive.

Her parents are keen to please her and have done everything she asked, even her most outlandish requests. Unlike most of her peers, though, Ashlyn hasn’t gone overboard with silly, expensive demands. She would never ask for a car or a holiday outside of the Americas. When it comes to money, she is very conscientious. Her family is fairly well off, but she has never even thought to ask for anything like that. The only thing she has asked for, apart from her driving lessons, is to be able to organize the party she wants to hold.

It is this last request which has proven hard for Freya, Ashlyn’s mother, to accept. Over the last few months, she has taken to telling her daughter that she disapproves of her friends. She has never been keen on her husband’s tribal tradition, even less so now her daughter is best friends with the future Sangoma of the Xhosa clan. She cannot accept it. Ashlyn is aware of it, but chooses not to care. If anything, she is irritated by the fact that every time she tries to find out why her mother cannot seem to tolerate their culture, she replies with reasoning which does little to convince her.

“It doesn’t matter why. I don’t want you hanging out with them!” is Freya’s final answer to her daughter’s constant questions.

For this reason, too, the situation at home is worsening and Ashlyn’s parents hardly talk to one another. But they have called a truce for this special event. For the sake of their daughter, they have decided to humor her.

At 2.39pm, tomorrow, the third of November, during the Ceremony of Ascent to Adulthood, Ashlyn will be touched by ancestral fire. Her friend Thembeka will be the very person to practice this ancient rite of passage on her. The private ceremony will be held at the Addo Park. Only a few dozen people will be there. Besides her parents and a few friends, Ashlyn has asked for her new acquaintances from the Reserve to be invited. Some will be dancing and singing Xhosa songs whilst others will play music during the ceremony.

Ashlyn is happy. At last, she feels she has found her place in the world.

The Jones House – November 13, 7.45 a.m.

“Stop them before it’s too late…”

“Ashlyn stop them before it’s too late…”

“Stop them before it’s too late… It’s all down to you!”

This is not the usual nightmare, and Ashlyn knows it. She is petrified, and is lying still in her bed. Her face is stiff with fear, her eyes wide open as she looks at the ceiling. She feels so scared she hardly dares move a muscle. This time she cannot free herself from the terror with tears or screams; this time she knows she is conscious and not in a REM sleep phase.

“What’s happening to me?”

About ten minutes later, once the voices have subsided, she remembers the words Thembeka said to her recently “…for any problems!” She summons up her strength and reaches out to grab her mobile phone.

“I need your help! I feel like I’m going crazy here. Please come and pick me up.”

It is what friendship is all about; knowing you can count on someone, even if you seem unhinged. And at this moment in time, the best approach for Ashlyn is to tackle her confusion with the person who has decided to dedicate her life to the unexplained and unusual

When she sees her friend, pale-faced and barely able to stand, it only takes Thembeka a few seconds to reach a decision. “You can tell me about it in the car. I’m taking you to my aunt at Great Fish River.”

Xhosa Cultural Centre – Great Fish River – November 13, 12.15 p.m.

To Ashlyn, the Xhosa Cultural Center looks like a huddle of low, rounded tribal huts painted sky blue, with high conical roofs made of bush, leaves and clay. But she pays little attention to this, it is not important. The only thing she wants is to make sure the voices in her head disappear forever.

They get out of the car and hurry over to a specific point of the Cultural Center. There’s no mistaking it; the only road through the small circular village leads straight to the hut in the middle: the sacred temple of the Sangoma.

They rush to take off their shoes and enter the Ndumba. Inside are four people wearing holy robes; one is in the middle of the room, three are to one side in the half-light. Ashlyn recognizes the Sangoma. With a wave of the hand, she motions to Ashlyn to lie down. Meanwhile Thembeka has donned her sacred robes and sits on the seat to the left of the Sangoma.

“Ashlyn, before we start, I want to explain what we’re going to do.”

At which Thembeka then tells her friend about the technique they will be using in an attempt to get rid of the demons who are tormenting her.

“We will begin by invoking the rite of the Astral Journey. This involves leaving our bodies to reach the Middle-World of this material world and time. We will use the technique to find out why you only hear voices at certain moments of your life. If it works, we will then try to identify the demon who is tormenting you.

“So it’s vital that you don’t open your eyes. You mustn’t move, no matter what you hear or feel. It’s important, OK?”

Ashlyn answers her friend’s request with a feeble “Alright”.

“Now close your eyes and relax. Empty your mind. I promise, nothing is going to happen to you. Trust us.”

The three people who had until that point stood to one side move towards Ashlyn, placing a series of candles around her body. They light them and retreat back into the shadows. One of them begins to tap on a drum with her fingers, producing a sound that gradually becomes more acute. At the same time, the other two break into a constant, monotone chant.

The ritual has begun.

The Sangoma says several words in a singsong voice, though Ashlyn does not recognize the language.

“Imimoya yam okhokho iza kum kum inkhokelo kumhlaba ophakathi…”

Immediately after, Thembeka repeats the same litany.

The ritual continues for less than a minute before a strong gust of wind suddenly envelopes the Ndumba. At the same moment, the candles around Ashlyn seem to go out before burning again even more brightly. It is the sign. The forefathers have answered the call, and now they will accompany the Sangoma and Thembeka on their Astral Journey.

The drums stop beating. At the same time, three of the people prostrate themselves in a sign of devotion.

Ashlyn has fallen into a profound trance state, but subconsciously she is participating in the arcane ritual being fulfilled at Great Fish River.

Time seems to have stopped until, about ten minutes later, a muffled, strangled cry breaks the silence in the hut. “Uuuugh!”

The Sangoma opens her eyes. With a slow but deliberate movement, she passes her hand over Thembeka’s forehead, waking her up. They do not exchange any words to mark the return from their Journey, merely glances and a nod of understanding.

A few moments later Ashlyn comes too as well. She is still lying on the ground when she turns her head towards her friend in search of answers.

“It was hard finding what we were looking for. The darkness was disorientating, it slowed us down.”

“The darkness?”

Thembeka explains that once they crossed the material reality of present time and her spirit had reached the top of the Tree of our celestial world, they found an immense expanse of darkness. This only happens in one case; when the passage between the celestial world and the earthly one is open.

“So that is where the voice is coming from?”

“We aren’t sure yet. During this Journey we realized that contact with the presumed Entity takes place when there is a total eclipse. We need to perform the ritual again to find out more. Do you feel up to it?”

Ashlyn’s expression betrays the fact that she is slightly uneasy. She realizes the situation is more complicated than she had hoped. She looks down, thinking it over.

“OK, do whatever you have to do,” she says, looking the Sangoma in the eye.

“The Astral Flow is much more complex. I cannot take part, I don’t have the requisites yet,” Thembeka warns her.

From the outside, the kalusizi of an animal catches Ashlyn off guard. Turning she sees a goat with very large horns has appeared inside the sacred place.

“It is a holy animal for us Xhosa, and it is the spirit that helps the Sangoma during the Flows.”

Ashlyn begins to feel unsure. She is not used to what she is now witnessing. Perhaps her mother was right, it really is too far removed from her own world.

“You are hesitating Ashlyn. We can sense your skepticism.” Thembeka has hit the nail on the head. It isn’t hard to see that her friend is struggling to take the whole situation on board lightly. “We can stop if you want. You don’t owe me or the Sangoma anything, you know,” Thembeka suggests gently.

“I don’t know… you know I trust you…” but after a short pause she adds, “I want to know who it is who is tormenting me. Let’s carry on!”

Unlike the first ritual, this time the Sangoma kneels behind Ashlyn and rests her hands on her shoulders. The sacred animal is docile, standing a short distance from them. Everything is ready for the ritual to begin. Thembeka leaves the center of the hut and goes to stand with the other people in the Ndumba.

The drum starts to beat again. This time the rhythm is fast, the sound is loud and pressing. The Sangoma’s voice is different, too. It sounds hoarser, more energetic. After pronouncing a series of seemingly meaningless words, the Sangoma slumps to the ground, unconscious. The goat is released and goes over to her, standing over her in a sign of protection. The Astral Flow has begun. It is only a question of minutes before they find out who or what is persecuting Ashlyn.

As the drum continues to beat ceaselessly, the unconscious bodies of the Sangoma and Ashlyn are repeatedly shaken by involuntary spasms. Their eyelids flutter as if the eyes beneath them are seeking light.

All of a sudden, the goat stands up and slowly moves away. The ritual has finished and the two people in the center of the room start to come to again. The Sangoma sits back in her seat, whilst Thembeka asks Ashlyn to leave the Ndumba and wait outside.

“After such a powerful ritual, the Sangoma usually needs some time to interpret what she has seen during the journey. Only then can she formulate the right response.”

When only Thembeka remains, the shaman grips an animal bone and starts drawing on the ground. The slow movements seem to be guided by a primordial spirit. They draw a circle divided into four, and on one side, it intersects with another identical circle.

“This is our world, our earth, isn’t it, auntie?”

The Sangoma nods in confirmation.

“And the reflected one means that the entity…”

Before she can finish the sentence, the bone, still in the Sangoma’s grasp, starts to draw more marks on the ground. Right in the middle of the overlapping parts, a new figure appears, whilst two symbols are drawn outside of the main image.

“How can that be?” Thembeka asks incredulously. “We have never had any sign that it is possible. Are you quite sure?”

Sangoma’s expression is icy and detached because she is still possessed. She turns to Thembeka in warning. “This is what the Great Tree of Life has prophesied,” she states. “If you doubt it, then you doubt our faith!”

At those words, Thembeka prostrates herself as a mark of her apology, before walking backwards out of the hut to her friend.

Ashlyn is pacing around nervously. She thinks they are taking too long, and that won’t be good. She can’t wait to have some answers but, at the same time, she is afraid the news will be bad. When she hears the door open, she goes over to Thembeka.

“Tell me something, anything, I can’t stand a minute more!” she says, gripping her arms.

“I don’t really know what happened in the Flow ritual either, but it’s pretty incredible, whatever it is…”

Thembeka shows her friend the drawing the Sangoma made, including every detail.

“So these two figures both represent our world,” Thembeka nods. “And these symbols represent temporal distance…” Her friend nods again. “And that one?” Ashlyn asks, pointing at the figure in the intersection.

“That one is the Voice, it’s the Entity which is persecuting you.”

Ashlyn’s blood runs cold again. She now knows she is not crazy, but knowing she really is being persecuted by something is not a relief.

She is worn out by the events of the day, and feeling miserable about the news she has just heard. She stands up, asking her friend to take her home.

The journey home passes in silence. On arriving home Ashlyn barely says goodbye to her friend before rushing up to her room.

Ashlyn’s room – Recollection Diary – November 13

I don’t know whether to feel happy about what I found out today, or if I should regret the moment I asked Thembeka for help! I feel bad that I was off with her. I’m not angry with her, in fact she’s done everything she could to help and support me. She didn’t deserve that… I’ll apologize tomorrow.

I want to try to put down what happened today in writing, that way I won’t forget a word.

The Sangoma said the Entity is good… what was that word Thembeka used? Ah yes, that it’s not a malignant force (which is good news) and that this voice or person apparently comes from a world not far from here.

Does it mean I know it? Does it know me?

If that’s true, and I doubt it is, according to the Sangoma, the Entity comes from a distant time.

And Thembeka was not very clear about that point.

Does that mean someone is talking to me from the future? How am I supposed to believe that!

I’m going to sleep on it.

– November 14

Of all the crazy things I heard yesterday, I forgot to write down the one thing that might be possible, and might help me find some answers.

I spent the whole afternoon doing some research and I think I’ve found out something very interesting about eclipses. I need to talk to Thembeka about it.

“You know what I just realized? Every time I heard the Voice and had those nightmares, there was a total eclipse! You know what that means, don’t you?”

Thembeka listens in silence until that point. Then she speaks, only to dampen her friend’s enthusiasm. “I’ve been doing a bit of research, too. I’m sorry to disappoint you Ashlyn, but there have been far more eclipses than times you have heard the Voice.”

Ashlyn is again gripped by profound frustration. “I thought of that, too, but I was so desperate for an answer, I guess I just wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“What if the solution is simpler than you think?” Thembeka continues. “Do you have the table of the eclipses? Perhaps we have overlooked the most important thing of all.”

Thembeka has an idea, but before she hazards a guess, she wants to be sure so she doesn’t get her friend’s hopes up for nothing.

“You were contacted when you were ten, then at fifteen, and again now. Let’s see… one, two, three…” She checks the list between 2005 and 2012. And that is when Thembeka notices something neither of them had spotted.

“Ashlyn, I’ve got it!”

She is pointing at a particular column in the table. “Look where the eclipses were visible when you didn’t hear the Voice. Now do you get it?”

Ashlyn’s smiles wryly.

“My aunt told me the Entity is physically close to our world. If that really is the case, it means it can only contact you during eclipses in the southern hemisphere.”

“Which means every time there is an eclipse here, I will have to go through sheer hell!”

Ashlyn is angry. She wants to lash out. She is angry with destiny, with the hand fate has dealt her.

Thembeka tries to console her, but she knows she can say or do nothing to make her feel better. She can imagine what she’s going through, even though she doesn’t live inside her head.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Ashlyn thanks Thembeka for being so close to her, but can’t help one last caustic quip. “It’s quite simple. All I need to do is make sure I’m not in the southern hemisphere during the next eclipses!” She sighs and heads for home.

Chapter 4.A Special girl

Life Mercantile Hospital

Port Elizabeth, South Africa

November 03, 1994

Freya MacLean was terrified of not being able to carry her pregnancy through to the end. Losing her baby would have been unbearable. For the first time, she was having to face a situation she had never encountered before, and was part panicked, part afraid. She had never experienced anything like it in twenty-seven years, nor, as she now says, has she ever since. It was the most important day of her life, but for her it was a traumatic event. So much so, she decided she would never go through it again.

Darius is two years older than his wife. He remembers every single moment of that Thursday.

It was just after eight in the morning when Freya slowly walked over to the bed to tell him that it was time, although it was a couple of weeks early. Darius didn’t need to be told twice and slipped on his clothes, picked up the bag behind the door, grabbed his keys and called Dr Schoeman, Freya’s gynecologist. Supporting her tenderly, they headed to their pick-up, where he set her on the back seat for safety. He started the engine and headed full steam out of the drive towards the Life Mercantile Hospital in Port Elizabeth.

Her waters had broken and the contractions had started, but it was still too early. Seeing how worried the couple were, Dr Schoeman explained that things could take longer during the first birth. So she advised Freya to lie down and try to keep calm and be patient, that everything would work out fine. There was no rush to bring their firstborn into the world.

“When your little girl is ready to come into the world, you will know it too, Freya!” she said, looking her straight in the eye with a gentle smile, holding her hands in her own.

The words comforted Freya and eased her worries for her child. She had never concealed just how much she had wanted that little girl, and how much love she already felt for her. She started to pray. Her prayers were directed at any hypothetical god willing to listen to her. She had never been a believer, but she had just decided to hang on to whatever higher power there was that would listen to her and reassure her.

She would do anything at all to bring her little girl into the world, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.

A few hours later, Freya started to feel ill. The contractions had stopped, and she could no longer feel the baby moving. Something wasn’t right, the pregnancy was at risk. Dr Schoeman immediately had the birthing room prepared for a caesarean section.

“We need to act right away, or the baby will be at risk!” she said in no uncertain terms.

The birthing room reflected the spirit of Life Mercantile’s approach and the services it offered: “We don’t just take care of you… we pamper you!”

The situation felt critical, but when Freya and Darius entered the birthing room, it felt more like an elegant bedroom than an anonymous hospital room. It helped soothe their nerves a little.

After lying down on the bed, ready for the epidural, a sharp stabbing pain caught Freya by surprise. The contractions started again; they were fast and were coming at closer intervals. Dr Schoeman was taken aback by this strange turn of events. She approached Freya to check whether the fetus had started moving again.

“In all these years, I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said, adding “I’d try for a natural birth, if you all agree. But I have to warn you, it could prove dangerous just the same!”

Darius looked at his wife in search of an answer, whatever it was.

Freya thought it over a few seconds before giving her decision.

“Darius, if anything happens to me, please bring up our daughter with all the love you can!” Looking to her gynecologist, she told her to proceed with the natural birth.

She knew every moment was critical for ensuring the safety of the baby, so Freya followed Dr Schoeman’s instructions to the letter. She cast aside her fears, summoning what little energy she had and focusing her attention on her gynecologist and following her instructions.

It was hard to concentrate on her breathing, but Freya knew she needed to let herself go. Letting go was the only way to relax her body and allow the little girl to come into the world.

At each contraction she pushed as hard as she could, until she felt like she was going to pass out. She was afraid she wouldn’t manage it, but at the same time her will power was stronger. After pushing for some time, she felt something move.

Gripping Darius’s hands even harder, she gave one last final push. She yelled, not just out of pain, but from a sense of relief. Her little girl had finally come into the world.

Time seemed to stand still as the parents anxiously awaited the first cry of their baby. A few seconds later, the cry made itself heard throughout the birthing room.

“She’s born… our little Ashlyn is here. Thank you my love, I’m so proud of you!”

At long last, at 2.39 p.m., Ashlyn Jones greeted the world with a long, intense cry. Freya, with Darius by her side, was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

When they passed her baby to her, she felt all the tension dissolve and tears flowed down her face. She turned towards the window in a sign of gratitude to the god she had prayed to. Only then did Freya realize the total eclipse in the news those last few days had passed its peak only minutes before. At that very moment, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of déjà vu; she felt her child was a special one, born as she was during such a magical, supernatural astronomical event.

Chapter 5.New life

Milan      

Lombardy, Italy

2019-2020

Italy has always fascinated Ashlyn. It holds an appeal few other countries have for her. Its infinite variety of landscapes, food and culture made it the perfect place to start a new life, far away from home.

The twenty-five-year-old from Port Elizabeth hasn’t travelled enough to be able to make any real comparisons, but she has always enjoyed geography. She loved it so much that when she was a child, she asked her father to install a satellite television in her room, which he duly did. From that moment on, she watched all her favorite documentary channels, soaking up as much information as possible about the planet and what surrounds it.