The scroll was placed still on your oak bedside table. Above a pile of other indiscernable pieces of parchment. You fumbled around attempting to obtain a grip on the aged yellowish sheet that would bestow upon you these mystical powers promised to you by lines of incoherent babble that you even doubted you could read, the characters were some you had never seen and even a part of you questioned your ability to replicate the oddly curved calligraphy onto a seperate piece of paper.
This did not deter you though not from trying to annunciate the picturesque language. In a queer turn of events as you begin to move your mouth making the sounds you assumed the writing expected you to produce, your voice turned coarse, the audio that you intended to expel was not that of what was actually being emmited from your thin lips. Your teeth feeling contorted and moving marginally faster than your voice box could compensate for. Your pupils flitting back and forth as to imitate some depleted work equipment, not far from a sewing machine from the late industrial boom.
It was automatic, your entire face, robotic in it's repeated movements and inability to freeze, pause or stop. It was not long, maybe 1 or 2 minutes, but your brain had slowed down your perception of time passing, to somewhat accommodate for the terrifyingly inconceivable course of events that were currently beseeching you.
Then in an instant, a flurry of astonishing blues and red escaped the paper as an expulsion of a firework like celebration bombarded it's way into your indented chest. Filling a space that previous to this you didn't know you had. Your irises rapidly changing colour in a LSD fuelled rainbow show. From your perspective not much happened, it was true that you felt fulfilled it was true you had seen a burst of spectral lights emanate form a yellow sheet. But you were oblivious to any other outwards effect.
It was an overall incomprehensible and arguably indescribable set of circumstances. All you knew for certain was that you could possess people and that you now had a rose and turquoise gas cloud inhabiting your chest.
Post this traumatic experience you recalled why you had read the scroll.
The girl.
You sped across your reasonably large room back towards your polygon patterned window and saw the girl luckily still clumsily searching for her key for the door, she had in her graceful hand a small metal ring with keys surrounding, some little with big circles, some long with small ovals, some archaic, some short and insignificant, some large and overbearing. Yet in the same way that you were not able to distinguish each key from the other it seemed very much that she couldn't either. You had spent enough time debating this philosophy that any minutes that passes from here on was a waste of precious daylight.
Concentrating you were able to convert your malebidy into a transparent copy, feeling more weightless than you had ever felt before, even lifting partially of the rough carpet, you leaned forward, your legs arching on a 45 degree angle, your head mimicking the same leaving you looking like a positive correlation on a graph.
You flew forward, apprehensively closing the gap between you and your window, them as if the glass had not been there you passed through it effortlessly. Opening your eyes, which you had closed tight in preparation for an immediate collision, you surveyed your surroundings, they were familiar, the houses still painted in their non descript Brown's, their brick work unchanged in decades, the pavement still had the grey aesthetic that it had enjoyed since the same of time, the distinct cracks still visible from your window and consequently fromwhere you had stationed yourself mid-air.
What had changed though was the position that you were viewing this all at, you had almost become like the fictional Peter Pan, your shadow alternatively was still intact.
The wind was present but did not appear harsh, rather a soft breeze, there were scattered puffy marshmallow clouds gliding purposefully in the expense of blue sky that sat nicely behind them.
The girl was still in a muddle about her choice in her door opening apparatus. Her fingers had wrapped around one key after another, her index and thumb tightening on a perspective key and thrusting it into the complicated lock mechanism that the entrance had ingrained in it's designed.
A couple of tumultuous minutes precededher eventual correct choice, this key was neither archaic, small, or was accompanied by a small oval, it was a boisterous large key, with an engraving of a dove on the square base.
The key fit.
"Looks like that's my cue"
Seeing that had pushed you into action, in the same process in which you exited your bedroom, you started towards the girl, who was blissfully unaware that a stranger would be momentarily taking her place at the door. Her optics were firmly fixed on the golden lock, her slender fingers, turning in earnest the bronze piece that was required to let her into the building. Her legs planted on the ground, her feet situated equally apart. Her back slightly hunched over as to provide her with the correct stance to accomplish such a task.
Click.
The mahogany oblong opened, not without a loud creak. At the same exact moment you passed through the girls curved spine gaining access to her frail form. Causing her and now you to drop toward the mat that had been left at the door. Its primary purpose to wipe feet, not necessarily to break the fall of an average sized girl.
Seconds passed.
Your eyes, woke to attention. Using your new narrow limbs to support your rise to a standing position.
Your balance wavered slightly. The room around you seemed to be twisting, vibrating and spinning. A well-placed hand on a near by wall reduced the nauseating whirlwind of a room. Eyesight was not much more of a help, you were blurred in this area, in such a way that you thought the house was censoring itself from You, yet this was arguably idiotic but having said that the idea that a possession spell would exist before today was also arguably idiotic.
Stumbling, your feet banging against the flimsy planks beneath you, your footsteps no longing practising the 'one foot in front of the other' way of walking. Now trying somewhat to reflect an Irish Jig. The only noise that was welcomed by your ears what that of the audios walkway.
1 step, 2 step, 3 step. Bump! 4 step, 5 step, 6 step. Crash!
You felt intoxicated as you drunkenly slam your way through a house you were supposed to be looking after. Well not 'you' but the poor soul who's vessel you had borrowed from. Intending to give it back to her you at least wanted to keep the damage to cause to her and her surroundings to a minimal.
Following a walk that saw you relearning to walk as a 2 year old would, a blind toddler at that, and a toddler that packed weight where a normal toddler would not have. You ultimately discovered a small living space equipped with a window letting in some beams of light dimmed by some fabric hanging from a metal bar installed above holding the curtain. A single bed, it's quilt tucked nicely into the sides of the wooden frame. The quilt being a calming white, it's cushions copying the plain and simple colour scheme. The floor was covered by a deep brown carpet, it felt soft, but that feeling was mitigated by the shoes that you wore. A mirror stood silently in the corner, a trifle dusty. It was found next to a chest of drawers, wipes and a cloth led unused atop the drawers. The walls were bare, woth the blatant exception if a cream switch that must cause the lights to brighten, the source being a snowy lamp shade masking a lightbulb,resulting in a white room wjen the bulb was activated, the wall paper, much like the rest of the room, was undecorated and indistinct in nature. You imagined this to be a spare room.
Houses in your neighbourhood were clones almost of themselves, they had been built as part of a 'initiative housing project back in 2006, they were built with speed and had no time for unique architecture, not that any of the residents stopped to consider this before purchasing any of them, it made their sale easy also, as a result of their likeness to the rest, you only had to see one for you to know the rest. The only choice you had was which section of the road you wanted to see. And which back street was more dark and dingy. (On both sides the back street was both dark and dingy the only visible difference was what colour skip you had, which when the choice is between a bright yellow and a slightly less-bright yellow even that decision didn't take much toleration between buyers).
For a short time you were perplexed, you could not place the room that you were in in relation to your house, if all houses were exact copies of each other you should easily be able to place this room. Was it your kitchen, or bedroom, or bathroom? It may have been due to severe disorientation due to your current arrangement.
Why was it so barren?
This second question also played on your brain. If these folks were as extravagant as their transient appearance would imply, Why would they have such a empty room.
Logically you had not explored the house, nor had you been able to put a picture together as you staggered your way through the entrance. Therefore it would be ignorant to make such an assumption without checking out the rest of the house?
The rest of the house. You were in the Johnson's. The famed sex obssessed, corpse fornicatin, Johnson's. An opportunity of a life time.
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a pile of clothes woth a note on it.
'What to do, what to do?'
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