World of Sharlain

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?

            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 cocked 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? This Tolkien world. I'll see it," 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.
            "Hey! This should be good, that I guarantee," said Tom, putting down his glass and swallowing hard the last of his quarter-sandwiches.
            "Gordon? This could be dangerous," said Peter warily. "Where did you learn the art of hypnotism?"
            "Don't worry. He won't succeed." Dan grinned and now put his hands on his hips. "Go ahead, Gord. Try it."
            This would be good. Gordon felt better than he had for some time. This was going to be a good evening after all. He rose from his chair and stared down at Dan. "Let's go into the other room. I need some darkness and some quiet and some comfortable chairs."
            They followed Gordon to the living room. Dan sat on a chair, still grinning, and Gordon stood in front of him. Peter turned off the music. Tom took a gulp of his whiskey and leaned back to enjoy the show. Gordon looked around, turned on a single light, placed his hands on Daniel's shoulders and whispered:
            "Be still, be quiet, think of nothing, look at my finger, it moves so slowly, back and forth, it brings the sleep, it brings the night, your mind goes blank, down, down, into darkness, into sleep -"
            Tom's mouth was open, egg salad perched precariously on his lower lip. It was working. By God, it was working. He saw the grin fade from Dan's lips, saw his squinting eyes develop into a blank stare, saw that Dan was now in a trance. Tom leaned forward. Peter Jacobs stared intently, not at Dan, but at Tom Barclay who seemed almost in a trance himself, his hands placed delicately on his knees, his eyes glazed.
            "Borgo-nom achewan. No-nopawno agerwan."
            Peter turned to Dan Woller. That was Dan speaking, wasn't it? What did he say? Peter rose slowly from his chair, worried. Hypnotism was nothing to play with; it could be dangerous.
            Gordon Chaplain smiled then raised his hand and Peter sat down again. This is too good to be true, he thought. His first attempt at hypnotism and Dan had gone under like a rock in a cesspool. He was tempted to make Dan do something stupid, embarrassing, something which the math department could laugh at. At the next departmental meeting, he could bring up the subject of hypnotism. And now gentlemen, under Other Business, our leader has some words of wisdom, words wrenched from another world for our edification. Professor Woller? You have the floor. Tell us of these other worlds. Borgo-nom achewan, if you please.
            "Gordon?" whispered Peter. "You've got to wake him up. This is dangerous."
            Gordon looked at Peter. Yes, he must bring Dan out of the trance. Too bad.
            "Daniel Woller, you will awaken, slowly, rise from the darkness, rise to the light, open your eyes, you feel fine, you feel good."
            Daniel Woller opened his eyes very slowly, blinked twice, looked about, saw Peter Jacobs frowning, then smiled.
            "See? I told you Gord wouldn't succeed."
            Peter started to say something but Tom blurted it out: "But he did succeed! He did!" Thomas Barclay was on his feet. "Gord had you under ... hypnotized ... you were really gone, really gone, that I guarantee!"
            The smile vanished from Daniel's face, replaced by a scowl. "What are you talking about?" He looked up at Gordon. "What the hell is he talking about?"
            Gordon smiled, his eyes slits of pleasure. "He's right, Dan. You were indeed hypnotized. But you won't remember a thing." He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, smiling.
            Dan rose quickly from the chair, scarlet blotches rising in his cheeks. "I don't believe it! You can't hypnotize me, I'm, I'm, it just can't be done."
            "Hey Dan," said Tom. "You were talking funny. You said something like Borgo borgo borgo."
            "No," said Gordon slowly, enjoying the moment. "What Dan said was this: Borgo-nom achewan. No-nopawno agerwan." Gordon said it carefully, enunciating every word. He stared directly at Dan, still smiling.
            Daniel began to sweat, his forehead shining in the dim light. "Okay, that's it for tonight," he said quickly, jumping to his feet. "Game's over, no more poker, time to go home, go home." Dan walked to the hall closet, confused. He fumbled with the closet door, pulled out his coat and turned to open the front door. He stopped and leaned heavily against a wall. It was his house. He looked at the floor and whispered, "please guys, go home now. It's time to go home."
            They all left immediately, without a word. Gordon Chaplain turned at the door to look back at Dan, to explain, to apologize if the experience had upset his boss. That was the least he could do. Dan Woller was clearly disturbed by the event. Gordon hadn't meant it to be a harrowing experience, but it had been, for Dan. Perhaps he had gone too far.
            Gordon didn't have a chance to apologize. Dan shut the door, stood there for a moment, then walked to the living room and collapsed in a chair, his face ashen, his cheeks wet with perspiration.
            "Prince of Woller, you are a fool!"
            It was Kathy. His wife was standing by the door, frowning.