The Spiritual Chameleon

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A young man collapses--it isn't a heart attack, it isn't a stroke, it isn't an allergic reaction. It is a case of spiritual paralyses where a lost spirit has tried to reconnect with a human, but instead has created a contradiction where his brain is neither processing the body as alive or dead.

However, Ronnie and Zain are experts in the field of spiritual awareness and it's their job to recover people from the experience.

Submitted: October 05, 2018

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Submitted: October 05, 2018

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A young man with the dark brown skin of an Arab was sitting in his chair playing with his friends in a game. “Johnson, move to your right. Aisha move to your—” an enormous pain suddenly came upon him. He clenched his stomach—trying to breath. It felt like something within him was clenching. He fell out of his chair—his breathing sounding distorted.

Hours passed.

The sound of chips being crunched in someone’s mouth could be heard. A tall, slender Black man with a grey suit, a purple tie, and green shirt was walking around the room. Sitting on the Arab man’s desk was a pale, white, slightly bulky man with a shriveled up face, eating some chips.

The slender man, Zain, coupled his index and middle finger and placed it on the Arab man’s left cheek. Zain closed his eyes.

“What is he doing?” Asked the Arab man’s mother to the bulky man. “It’s part of his,” he used his fingers as quotation marks, “process.” He ate another chip.

Zain breathed steadily at first, as if he was reading the Arab man who had fallen. He started breathing heavily—heavier and heavier. He ceased his release of the Arab man’s cheek and collapsed to the floor next to him.

He had a “fog” appear over his pupils as he appeared to struggle within himself—rolling back and forth.

“Should we help him?” the mother asked, alarmed. But the bulky man signaled her to refrain.

Zain took a deep inhale, held his breath, and now with both hands in the same position as with the Arab man, placed his fingers on his cheeks and preceded to let out a huge exhale. And with the final whiff of breath, the fog in his eyes dissipated. “Water.” Zain said. The mother, however, was somewhat awestruck and worried, and the bulky man unphased, “Water!” Zain said louder, this time getting the mother’s attention. “If you could get him some water, that’d be great.” The bulky man said as the Mother hurried.

Upon finishing the glass, the word “Alive.”

Mother responded “My son is alive?”

Zain nodded.

The bulky man, Ronnie, hopped off the desk, and took out a clipboard. “I love my job” he said, somewhat sarcastically, “Miss, does your son have a history of epilepsy?”

She shook her head.

“Any allergies?”

She shook her head again.

“Anything that would cause him to faint like this?”

Another shake.

“Miss, what we believe your son went through was a spiritual paralyses.

“Spiritual paralyses?? What do you mean? My son is a good boy! Harmless! He wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

Ronnie smiled, as if the denial was routine. “I have no doubt Mrs.----?”

“Samaha.”

“Well, Mrs. Samaha, I have no doubt that your son is an angel! The thing is—it may be a family curse, it may a wondering spirit, it could just be a prankster!—hey Zain, think you could help me out, here?”

“Detection, my job. Cause and prevention, yours.” “Psh, man of few words—as always.”

“So Mrs. Samaha, do you have any family curses?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did anyone in this family recently pass?”

“No”

Ronnie grimaced and thought for a second.

“You said he was playing a game—whom was he playing with?”

“A nice, Jewish boy named Johnson and a young lady named Aisha”

“Has there been a death in either of their families?”

“No.”

“Ah I see, well then, I’m afraid that we’ll have to—”

“Actually wait, Aisha’s cousin recently passed away.”

“How recent?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Ahh, okay.”

Ronnie proceeded to write down the information on his clipboard and then handed it to Zain who then proceeded to put his fingers on the Arab man’s cheek once again. The fog returned to Zain’s eyes.

“Can you explain?”

“Well what he’s doing is he’s connecting to your son on a spiritual level. You see, your son was playing video games and minding his own business when all of sudden he collapsed. We’ve already ruled out a heart attack as there is no evidence to be evidence of stress, and if you’re telling the truth, we’ve ruled out the other possibilities.”

“So what is the end result?”

“The end result is that a spirit tried leaving a final thought with your son, thinking it was someone else. What usually winds up happening is that they fail to remember to touch the brain and nothing else.”

“The brain?”

“Your brain is the thing that connects spirit to body. It is a bridge and is therefore an “accepted contradiction” when it comes to the spiritual world. However, if a spirit puts their hand through any other body part, it creates an unaccepted contradiction, and thus, distorts the victim entirely. Think of the body as an enabler of the brain to interpret senses in the physical world. Think of the brain as a passage way of sorts into the real world but trying to go around the brain as a big no-no. While the brain is the main storage of spiritual energy, a small amount is dispersed through the whole body. The brain can differentiate spiritual energy that is different from its own when you go straight to it. However, if you interact with the body and intermingle with the spiritual energy of a host, the brain will go into a state of ”confusion”. Think of individual’s differing spiritual energies as kool-aid flavors. The cherry generator disperses cherry flavored kool-aid throughout the body, right?”

Samaha nodded.

“Well if a blue-berry spirt interacts with a cherry brain, well everything’s fine, because the brain is capable of direct differentiation. But if a blue-berry interacts with the cherry river, the contaminated water is going to confuse the primary source later down the road.”

Samaha seemed slightly confused, but appeared to be grasping it, “so how is able to fix him?”

Zain appeared to be underwater in a vast ocean. His eyes suddenly opened and swam up to the surface in a hurry to breath. He looked around in panic for an island of sorts. When no such could be spotted, he slowed his breathing and exhaled—allowing his body to sink, all the while closing his eyes and in a pose of meditation. He struggled to hold his breath but hold his breath, he did. Soon, he felt the water levitate itself off him and he was able to breath normally. He heard the crackling of a torch next to him and found himself in a cave.

….

“Well Zain is what we call a spiritual chameleon, able to adapt to any person’s spiritual aura without disrupting them. You want some chips?”

Samaha refused.

“I like my chips.”

“Well, tell me more.” Samaha insisted, interested in the topic and appearing to have lost interest in reviving her son, heaving felt at ease.

“Right! So he’s able to adapt to another person’s spiritual aura, but he’s also able to interpret and transmit physical senses to spiritual beings. He’s essentially a human brain with his body as a whole acting as a conductor of spiritual energy. When he first goes into the mind of a person under spiritual paralyses, he describes it as an ocean of sorts. A person who’s stable on a spiritual level will have an island visible in sight—a person who is becoming unstable will become a lava-infested mountain slowly sinking or rising depending on the individual’s capacity to fight off beings—but a person who has lost and fallen victim to spiritual paralyses do not have islands.”

I think I will have some chips.” Samaha had admitted defeat. Overjoyed, Ronnie offered her a bag of her own.

Zain was walking through a dark cave with the torch in his left hand. “Hello?” he asked.

He placed his hand on the walls beside him, checking for moisture. “Help!” a voice screamed.

“Where are you!?” he started to run through the passage.

He then came upon what appeared to be a center room with multiple passages. “Help!” the voice screamed again. Zain tried to track the voice to see which passage it would prove most prominent—but the sound had originated directly from the center—spreading equally to each of the passages.

A little girl appeared in one of the passages, walking slowly and creepily towards Zain. “Are you the one who needed help?”

“Help?” the being replied in a snarly voice, not sounding anything like its appearance, “the only thing that needs help, darling, is you!” the figure suddenly appeared in all the passages—as if it had duplicated itself. All the figures started running towards Zain.

Zain took a deep breath and pulled a rubix cube out of his pocket.

“Kutangaza.” (Disperse). He gently taped the cube and walls resembling the colors of the cube began to pour out. None of the figures were able to bear the sound or effect of the cube. Soon all the duplicates had begun to dissolve; leaving only the original, “may you burn with the rest of the unfounded!”
 
“Yeah, yeah, unfounded, shut up already.”
 
“Help!” the voice from earlier shouted once again.
 
After running to the end of the cave, Zain come across an outside environment that appeared to be snowing. White filled the air. “I feel like I’m in Philadelphia, again” he joked to himself. Suddenly, he was hurled to the ground placed in front of big teeth. As the wolf came for a bit to the throat, Zain put his arm in front of him to prevent. The wolf bit down deeply as Zain shrieked. 
 
Zain used his other arm to hurl the beast over him to turn the tables. He thrusted his own face into the neck of the wolf and bit firmly into it. He spit out what remained. 
 
Zain decided to collapse. “This is too exhausting for me.” 
 
“Help!” the voice screamed again. This time, it was in the same area. Zain looked around in desperation until he came upon a hand freeing itself from the snow. 
 
“What is your name, little one?” 
“Amalia”
 
She looked around, as if looking for something. 
 
“I’m looking for my sister, Aisha. Is she here?” Zain kept his composure and shook his head. Amalia began to tear up, “I was told I could say one last goodbye before I go.” 
 
“It is alright, child. I can relay the message.” 
 
“Just tell her that I’ll always love her and appreciate her as my sister, even though she kept pulling my air.” 
Zain held her hands as she appeared to fade away. “Thank you.” She said before she departed. 
 
The snow in the area began to swirl around Zain; lifting him up towards the sky. 
 
Soon, Zain found himself on a small island with the ocean around it at peace. 
 
The Arab man and Zain burst out—breathily heavily--as if emerging from a deep dive. 
 
Instinctively, Ronnie took out a water bottle and gave it to Zain who was sweating. “Are you crying, man? What happened down there?” Ronnie asked, a new found concern having overtook him, 
 

“It is always a grief when the young and innocent are taken among us.”



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