The World of Sharlain Read online



  World of Sharlain

  by Peter J. Ponzo

  First Interim

  I am old and my memory is less than it was, yet I will tell you the story, for soon I will surely forget, and soon I will die, for I am not long-lived as are others in this land, yet my hair, as you see, is white with a hint of green, and that says something, does it not?

  It began with ghosts, or at least a discussion of ghosts, and I am certain, though I was not present, that it took place at a weekly poker game. You must understand that I have been told the circumstances by others and I relate them now as best I can, from faded memory. At the time, were I present, I would have been skeptical as well. Indeed, I did not believe in ghosts or dragons or, for that matter, flying horses; it cannot be so, yet, can anyone really be sure? Stranger things have happened. And now, in this land, we have been witness to much stranger things. Much stranger things.

  You will be the judge.

  That is all past. Anyone who lives here, with hair of green, would scoff not at a belief in ghosts, but at any disbelief, for we have all seen the Ghost of Chalma and have ridden horses that fly and ... yet, I digress. What was I about to say? I was about to say that, were it not for the discussion of ghosts, perhaps I would not be here, now, with my beautiful wife and beautiful children. As you can see, your hair is quite green. I do believe that it stems from what we eat; the mushrooms perhaps, or the green berries that grow in profusion by the Stream of Life.

  Why am I here? At times I think that I made an error in judgement; I should have stayed. Yet, I have been happy. Had I stayed, would I have been so happy? No, but then, can anyone really be sure?

  I was speaking of ghosts, and while it is still fresh in my mind I will tell you the story. It began, as nearly as I can tell, at a poker game, or have I already said that?

  CHAPTER 1

  Other Worlds

  Dan Woller leaned back and put down his cards, his eyes closing to slits. He was a short man with dark complexion and straight black hair greased to the contours of his head.

  "You can't really believe in ghosts?"

  It wasn't clear whether he said it as a statement or a question, and he was staring at Gordon Chaplain. Soon everyone was staring at Gordon Chaplain.

  "That's not what I said." Gordon was somewhat peeved. "I just said that those who do believe find them real, very real. You can't deny that."

  "I'll go along with that," grunted Thomas Barclay. "Now, let's play cards." Tom grunted again and pushed a cheese sandwich into his mouth.

  "No, I want to get this straight," said Dan, still staring at Gordon and now leaning over the table, his elbows together, his hands knotted beneath his chin. "You believe in something, therefore it's true. Right? That's your thesis. Right?"

  Gordon looked weary. He really didn't like Dan Woller. "Naturally. I think of cheese and you think of salami and that makes the moon a cheese and salami sandwich." He closed his eyes as though in pain. "Look Dan, that's not what I said, and you bloody well know it." Gordon was getting angry. "As usual, you're not even listening to what I said."

  "Okay, then tell us again what you said. This time we'll listen. Go ahead." Dan was listening, grinning, squinting beneath shaggy brows that seemed incongruous beneath slick black hair, but Thomas and Peter had left the table to fill their glasses in the kitchen area.

  This was the third Thursday in the month so Gordon Chaplain was the host for the weekly poker game and the kitchen counter was arrayed, or disarrayed, with half-filled bottles of whiskey and gin, a bowl of chips (mostly broken), assorted cookies spilled from a box, and a tray of sandwiches. Gordon was the only bachelor in the group and his cheese sandwiches were the least palatable of the month. However his house was unique and lent itself to poker parties; in spite of the lousy sandwiches it was always a good evening. The living, dining and cooking areas were components of a single expansive room. For Peter Jacobs it meant another chance to gaze in wonder at his own creation, well, sort of. For Thomas Barclay it meant that the sandwiches were never very far away.

  The second Thursday of the month was Thomas Thursday and Tom prided himself on his culinary skills. The sandwiches were works of art: pastrami, lettuce, dill pickle and slices of Emmenthaler cheese on black rye. The hot mustard Tom made himself, carefully measuring the mustard seed, horse radish and mayonnaise in a blender and poking the chop button until it was only just blended. Tom's size attested to the fact that he loved to eat, and drink. He returned to the poker table with three cheese sandwiches and a tall glass of whiskey, straight. Peter Jacobs followed, chewing contentedly on a single sandwich.

  "What I said was this," Gordon explained patiently. "If somebody really believes in something, anything, then it's as real to that person as anything we would regard as real. If Tom said he saw a ghost last night then he really did see it. After all, what is seeing but nerve impulses received by the brain. Surely Tom's body could actually generate these impulses without the need for visual stimuli."

  Tom and Peter sat down and looked from Gordon to Dan, but there was no response. Dan Woller just grinned, his chin still imbedded in his hands.

  "I suspect," grinned Peter, placing his arm around Tom's ample waist, "that Tom's body is capable of anything."

  Tom grunted between bites of his cheese sandwich. "Thanks old buddy."

  "That's nonsense," said Dan, his grin vanishing, his voice rising. "I suppose you believe in elves and dwarfs and flying horses."

  Gord was about to respond, again, but Tom would have none of it.

  "Let's play cards!" Now Tom was getting angry and they all looked at him, there was a moment of silence, then they picked up their cards and continued the game.

  At midnight, as usual, they played the last game and walked to the living room area to finish their drinks. The lights were turned up and the lights in the other parts of the room were dimmed. For some time they just sat and sipped the last of their drinks, Peter Jacobs looking about the room with great interest: it was a Jacobs House . He enjoyed being there.

  Finally, as though he had been thinking and just had a new idea, Peter said: "Suppose that elves and flying horses really did exist. Then -"

  "Let's not start on that again." Dan Woller raised his hand as though to hold back the discussion, but Gordon and Tom were looking at Peter with great interest, so Peter continued.

  "If they really did exist then, since we rarely see them, they must exist in a different way, not in the streets of the city or ... or the world we live in. Maybe they exist in some kind of dream world, in a parallel universe, in a world apart which we glimpse once in a while. Those who see ghosts or goblins actually see into this other world. Maybe, instead of thinking that Tom is crazy for seeing ghosts we should actually think of Tom as special, with powers of perception beyond those we possess."

  Peter seemed pleased with his analysis and lay back, stretching his feet. Tom didn't understand, but did hear his name and whined. "Hey! I never said I saw a ghost."

  "That's okay Tom. Don't you see? You're special." Dan Woller smiled and Tom pulled the cheese from his sandwich and popped it into his mouth, then looked warily at the soggy white bread, shrugged, then pushed that into his mouth.

  "That's an interesting theory, Peter," said Gordon with a wide grin. It was the first time Gordon Chaplain had smiled all night. He raised his index finger as though to more clearly identify the point he was about to make. "Now suppose we all wanted to see what Tom saw, we all wanted these special powers of perception. How would we enter this dream world, his dream world?" Gordon would pretend to amplify on Peter's notion of another world. In fact, it was also his theory.

  "This is stupid," said Dan, getting out of his chair and
heading for the hall closet. "Elves and flying horses? You’ve been reading too much Tolkien. The discussion deteriorates, the cerebral prowess of my companions degenerates. I'm going home."

  They all watched Dan gather his coat and leave, nobody moving to join him as they usually did on poker nights. Dan seemed a little surprised that he was leaving alone. He didn't really want to miss any meaningful discussion, but then this was not a meaningful discussion, so he left.

  "Now that the unbeliever is gone let me tell you my theory."

  Gordon was now whispering, so Tom and Peter leaned back. Gord had a great imagination and they usually enjoyed his tales of adventure. As a bachelor he had traveled widely and the stories of his trips were usually embellished with fictional accounts of monsters rising from the bowels of the earth or vegetation that fed on homo sapiens. It was sometimes difficult to distinguish truth from fiction, but Gordon was a good storyteller and they would listen. His theory of elves and flying horses was bound to be good.

  "Peter, what you said earlier is exactly right. I mean, those that see ghosts or goblins have special powers, an ability to see beyond this universe of galaxies and goloshes. The opportunity to gaze into this other world, or these other worlds, comes only rarely and we should envy those that are able to take advantage of that opportunity when it arises."

  Gordon paused, frowned, then raised his voice and continued, looking directly at Peter Jacobs. "Peter, it amazes me that you, too, have come to this conclusion, about parallel worlds. I've been thinking about it for years and have come to the very same conclusion. If Tom tells me he saw a dwarf sitting in the back seat of his car I don't think he's nuts, I think he's special, and I envy him. That dwarf may never come again but this time, this one time, Tom saw it."

  "How come you always pick on me?" moaned Tom. "I never see no dwarfs or ghosts or anything like that, I guarantee."

  Gordon continued, ignoring Tom's complaint, but smiling in Tom's direction just to indicate that he had heard the complaint.

  "Now, what I would like to know is this: how do we get to see what Tom sees? How do we acquire these special powers, to see into these other worlds? If Tom sees a dwarf, right now, what can I do to see the dwarf too?"

  Peter waited. It was a rhetorical question and Gordon would answer when he was ready. Tom had his eyes closed; he had eaten too much and was sleepy. Besides, he didn't really understand what they were talking about. He, for one, had stopped believing in ghosts when he was a kid.

  "Hypnotism." Gordon leaned back and smiled, waiting for that single word to sink in. Peter was disappointed.

  "Come on, Gord. Hypnotism? That will give us this glimpse of the other worlds? People have been hypnotized before. Do they see ghosts and goblins?"

  Gordon leaned forward and whispered to establish the proper environment for his next words. He was a polished storyteller as befit his occupation: professor of mathematics. Whenever the students in the back row nodded off to sleep, he would tell a story. When he had proved some abstruse and difficult theorem (and even the eager students in the front row were nodding off), he would tell a story. He was good at it, and he would make the most of this opportunity to expound on his theory of other worlds.

  "Not hypnotism by itself. No. It's going into a dream-like trance at the precise moment that Tom sees into the other world."

  Tom opened one eye at the sound of his name, but closed it again. Peter was about to say something, but Gordon continued.

  "Suppose that Tom were to see a ghost, right now. Suppose further that I were to hypnotize you, right now. Suppose further that you were to be in physical and mental contact with Tom, at precisely the moment he saw a ghost. Then I claim that -"

  "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Mental contact with Tom? You're kidding. How?"

  "Hypnotism." Gordon whispered the word.

  Tom was snoring.

  "Looks like Tom is in another world already," said Peter, rising from his chair. It was getting late and the discussion really was deteriorating. Peter had only suggested the parallel worlds thing as a joke. Surely Gordon wasn't taking it seriously. "Well Gord, it's an interesting theory. If we knew a hypnotist we could even test the theory, if only Tom would see a ghost." Peter poked Tom in the side. "Tom? When was the last time you saw a ghost?"

  Tom opened his eyes and groaned. "Are we going now?"

  "Yup! Let's go." Peter jumped to his feet. Tom grunted, leaned heavily forward and arose from the chair like a whale breaching.

  They all walked to the door and Gordon watched them leave in Peter's car, then he went to the kitchen area, gazed for a moment at the dishes and glasses, shrugged, then went to his study. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and slid into a large leather chair.

  Gordon Chaplain was not quite thirty-five, yet he was almost bald. At least on the top of his head. At the sides his hair was long, thin and light brown and hung over his ears and down the back almost to his neck. He had tried to hide the baldness by combing his hair over the top but it always fell to the sides so he just accepted it. It made him look older and maybe that wasn't so bad. He did have a muscular physique that showed through his shirt, now bulging at the buttons; he was in excellent shape. And he was his own man, with an interest in strange cultures and languages, of which he spoke several, though not your typical French or Spanish or German or Russian (although he did speak a smattering of each). What intrigued him most was Armenian and Aramaic and the Sino-Tibetan linguistic families. He was also intensely interested in Science; not just physics and chemistry and biology (although he had studied them all) but also pseudo-science.

  Gordon Chaplain closed his eyes. God, how he disliked Dan Woller.

  Other worlds. He did believe in other worlds. What one sees, experiences, feels, they are all creations of the mind. Entering another world was a matter of generating the appropriate mindset, and hypnotism was the key.

  He pulled the book from the end table.

  Hypnotism in Theory and Practice.

  *****

  It was the fourth Thursday of the month and they were gathered at Dan Woller's house. His wife Kathy had made the tiny sandwiches, egg salad filling, cut into quarters, then had gone to play bridge with a neighbor. Tom filled his plate with sandwiches six-at-a-time, pushing three-at-a-time into his mouth.

  "Okay, what did you guys talk about last week, after I left?" said Dan.

  "Ghosts and goblins," Peter grinned. "Gord has a theory. He says that if you -"

  "No, don't tell Dan my theory. He'll just laugh it off, as usual," said Gordon, frowning. This was going to be another terrible evening, he could see it coming.

  "Come now, tell me this theory. I'm due for a good laugh," Dan said. "Besides, tonight we're in my house and you know the house rules: my wish is your command." Dan stared directly at Gordon, wagged his finger, grinned.

  "Okay, let me tell it," said Gordon, resigned to the fact that he would explain and Dan would laugh. Nevertheless, it was better than having Peter explain the theory and really provoking Dan's mirth. Perhaps he could tell it as though it were a joke, something humorous, not something that he really believed in. "Here's the theory," he began. "There is a world apart from this one that we know and love. A world of fantasy, a world of ghosts, goblins, dwarfs and flying horses. Maybe more than a single world, maybe several worlds, some with ghosts, some with goblins. Some of us, Tom maybe, see into this other world when conditions are right."

  "Like when Tom has had too much to drink," added Peter Jacobs.

  "Right," continued Gordon, grinning. Maybe if he made light of the theory then the guffaws would be minimized. He tried to grin while explaining, but it wasn't all that easy. "Which world Tom sees is problematical. Maybe the world of ghosts, maybe a world of dwarfs. Only Tom has the special power to observe this other world, and only sometimes. But when he does, then we all have the same opportunity if we are in contact with Tom, physical and mental contact."

  Dan Woller cocke
d his head and squinted. "Like, I'm supposed to give Tom a big hug when he sees a ghost, then I'll see it too, right?" he said, his grin too wide.

  "Something like that," said Gordon, trying hard to maintain his smile. He really didn't like Dan Woller. "Now Dan, pay attention," he continued, lowering his voice and wiping the smile from his face. "Maybe you'll learn something. When Tom sees into another world I hypnotize you. You hold on to Tom, I hypnotize Tom, you're both in a trance, you're in communion, you see the same things, experience the same things. You can enter this other world at the precise moment that Tom has established the opening. You take advantage of Tom's special power and enter with him."

  Dan began to laugh, first softly, then with head held back, roaring with laughter, his greased hair splitting into a dozen pointed, shaking strands. "I enter another world, with Tom. Kicking and screaming. Holding on to Tom. Quite a handful I'd say."

  Peter leaned forward and looked at Gordon. "Did I hear you say that you would hypnotize Dan?"

  Gordon smiled again and nodded, then raised his hands to either side of his head, shaking them and shaking his head. "T'ain't jes Tom who got dose magic powers. Lordy, no."

  Dan began again to laugh and Gordon's smile turned quickly to a frown. He really didn't like Daniel Woller, never had. Dan was stunted in his creative abilities, had a brain like a benign tumor, criticized every new idea, laughed at things he didn't understand, expounded on things about which his knowledge was infinitesimal. But Dan was his boss. Why they had selected Dan as the head of mathematics at Corrigan College was a mystery. Perhaps being critical of everything and everyone is a necessary prerequisite. It wasn't necessary to have any ideas of your own, just as long as you were sufficiently critical of the ideas of your colleagues. Perhaps their colleagues at the college saw this critical response to any novel idea as an indication of intellectual enlightenment. Gordon knew better; Dan was a mental midget.

  Gordon stared at Dan for a long time then leaned forward and whispered. Dan stopped laughing and listened. Gord whispered again.

  "What? Hypnotize me?" Dan frowned only for a moment, then began to laugh again, but stopped when he saw that Gordon was serious. "Okay. Sure. Go ahead. Try it." Dan crossed his arms across his chest, squinting as he often did, to indicate disbelief.