Drift down into that state of relaxation where sleep and wakefulness are equally distant.... Begin to breathe deeply and regularly.... Feel the muscles of your body go slack.... Drift on the sound of the music... Go now to this other realm of wakefulness.......................

See yourself as you are now, alone on a dead mountain side. A feeling of anxiety overwhelms you... You know that you are late and that everyone on this night should be locked indoors in the dark; no lights are allowed tonight for they could attract attention of dark spirits. But, you are needed this night. You have a task that must be addressed. Looking to the horizon, you note that the moon has yet to rise in this drought ridden land. You move down the trail noting the damage done the trees by blight and to little water.

After a while you see a cottage in the distance with lights blazing and a guard posted. This is your destination.

You are greeted by an eager group of men, women, and youths: some are old, some lame, others still have some health in their cheeks. Tonight you and the others are NIGHTWALKERS. You will lead them into a battle they have been losing the last few years, though you've yet to fight in this eternal war.

Nervous small talk fills the room. As the first sight of moonlight from the full moon is seen, silence fills the room. You reach for a large chalice and pass it around. Everyone takes a gulp. Finally your turn comes. As you drink, the bitter contents make you want to gag, but you get it down.

A drowsy feeling over-comes you. You notice that most of the others have already succeeded to the potion. You have just enough time to get into a comfortable position before you join the others.


You seem to awaken in your ideal form. The others too have changed; old lame men are now young and virile, young girls have become women. Others have changed little. One old woman that you saw in the cottage looks the same, but now moves as if she were a gymnast.

The world itself has changed. You are on a plain between a river and the sea. The land you stand upon is fertile and lush. It seems as if all seasons are in force at once. Patches of snow with small snow lilies growing in them lay next to peach trees in full fruit. Maple trees in all shades of color stand over budding daises. You look across the river and the land is completely dead. As far as the eye can see, the rest of the plain and the hills beyond are completely dead and barren.

It is time for you to arm yourselves for battle. If you win the land will flourish in both worlds, but you must defeat the dark horde to win. You lead your group to a stand of ripe wheat. There you are joined by many other groups. Each of you pluck a stalk of wheat. You feel the stalk going stiffer in your hand. You touch the tip of your finger to the wheat head, and a drop of blood appears were its new edge had cut you.

Blood means life

The stalks will be your weapons. You are told that everyone must do best tonight insure that the horde takes as little of the remaining land as possible. Every year they take more and more because when their new leader takes the field none can stand against him. That is why you have been asked to join and lead.

You array your group along the river. When the moon reaches its zenith, the horde appears in the distant hills. To each and every nightwalker they appear differently. Some see them as horribly deformed monsters, some see them as solders, you see them as walking dead. You know that should you die here in this dreamworld that you die a wasting death in the waking world.

{music suggesting impending doom}

The battle engages. You and the others use the wheat stalks as swords. Slicing through members of the horde. Great bloodless wounds appear on them before they fall. They are overwhelming your people by shear numbers. Where the horde treads the life goes out of the land.

As you fight you realize that you see the horde as it truly is DEATH, or rather ANTI-LIFE. If they reach the sea this world would suddenly die, and the waking world would follow in its continued plague and blight till it died.

You become enraged and fight like a demon. Swirling your sword of wheat about in a blur of motion, none can touch you. You drive the anti-life back. Others take heart at your example, and help you push the horde back across the river and into the plain beyond. For the first time in years, life is winning.

Just as you reach the hills, having routed the enemy from the plain, their leader appears farther down the line of battle. A massive dark figure, it starts wiping your people out with a massive sword in one hand and a huge mace in the other. All seem stunned and frozen by its presence. The obscured figure moves toward the river pushing your night walkers back, leaving a trail of dead.

Fear enters your heart. Despair fills you.

How can you hope to over come this leader of the anti-life horde... It seems so futile to continue this war. You want to run away. Whenever this leader takes the field the nightwalkers lose more ground. Despite your misgivings you go to engage it. As you near the fear intensifies.

You know now what you must do. You know now what it is.

About ten feet away from it, it turns toward you. You point the wheat (life and the promise of life to come. ) at the figure and, cry out:


It glares at you, and starts swinging its weapons. "YOU ARE THE FEAR OF DEATH, YOU ARE THE BLIGHT, AND DROUGHT, AND PLAGUE THAT WALKS TWO WORLDS, AND BRINGS DISPAIR.' The darkness around it begins to unravel. It falters, and turns to rush back into the hills. The others go back to routing the horde. You chase the leader. If it is not destroyed it will return next year. You can not keep up with retreating Fear and Dread. To weaken It further you name It out loud with the name of your worst fear manifest. You hear it scream in the distance.

The others have joined you on the dead plain. Those that survive smile at one another. Lust fills all your hearts with life. It overcomes you and the others. Hastily you all disrobe and pair off as you choose. You and your dream lover fall into lovemaking. All about your rutting bodies small white flowers spring up. Filling the once barren plain.

You awaken to the dawn in the waking world to the soft sound of the first rain in a long time falling on the parched earth.

Arise now to the other world around you.

[anti-copyrite] AutonomatriX
Corpus Fecundi Index