The White House
written by: Alan David Gould
The subject is a sensitive one, and somewhat painful. I had never wanted to revisit it. It stood for the sheer, all-encompassing terror which now consumes me. Once the power began to exert itself, I felt I was not long for this world. Had I not learned how to counter it, I would not be telling this tale right now.
It all started innocently enough. I knew her when she was young enough not to have been robbed of the vivacious beauty that the cares of time tend to diminish. Her voice was melodious and sweet, and she would articulate her tender thoughts in a manner befitting one so fragile. She had a wistful expression that made men immediately want to protect her. And so, I tried, in my own way, to shelter her from the harsh realities of the world outside. To allow her beauty to reign in a world where she would receive no hurt. But in the end, it almost finished both of us.
Perhaps it was the purity of absolute darkness that pervaded the environs of the white house. Almost as if the place commanded a sanctuary that no one dared disturb. I quivered at the sound of my own voice. As I scraped through barbed wire that cut my flesh, flying sentries took up banshee screams that jangled my fragile nerves. I would have gone no further, but a voice called for help, a stifled scream from within. I couldn’t turn away. I crept slowly forward across a field of untended straw. A long black snake slithered from under my feet and disappeared in the grass. I crept on, shivering. I was on the porch! Now I could hear several voices. Old spider web stuck to the wrinkles of my care-worn face as I strained to peer into the grimy window. Who was that? Then, I saw her once again, in a simple white dress, bound to a chair, writhing and moaning in front of an invisible antagonist. Her delicate shoulders hunched with utter exhaustion. I resisted the urge to break through the door to save her. And from what?
Only a thought warrior could fight the power of such evil. And he, whoever or whatever he was, would grapple with me. I must go in prepared! I steeled myself and sharpened my mind, focusing all my mental prowess into a single cerebral knife-edge. I must thrust the beast out from under the veil of darkness!
With osmotic force, I careened into the space. There she was, in some sort of existential agony. She was as delicate as ever, with milky white skin and a softness that pervaded her being, as if trying to shield her from a terror so extreme. I attempted to speak, but the words died in my throat. “Enforced telepathy,” I immediately thought to myself. I must make my intention clear. The vortex had her by the jaw now, and her gyrations confused me. Had she understood? I could not touch her and knew that this was a precipice from which I would save us both or expire along with her. No turning back!
Would it show itself to me all at once? I thought not. I must defeat it based on its own delusional architecture, unravel its main firelights, and propel it outside itself, to the disintegration of its auric will.
But no time to think about that now. I felt the first surge. Odd memories surfaced and juxtaposed. I reeled against it. Again, a tumultuous convolution of angular thought patterns assailed me. I must not lose clarity and direction, but strike back before it comes at me a third time. She was screaming as I lurched forward to knock the thing off balance with harsh thought. Again. And again. She wailed each time. She must have been prey to the crossfire.
With every bit of skill I had, I struck with the edge of my mind. I felt the resistance lessen by a small increment. I mustn’t lose my edge! I hammered away in a dervish of singular fury.
I felt the thing back down and immediately flattened all its nuances between two material worlds. Out of headroom, I felt it give one last desperate impulse. But it was over. I had cajoled the creature down to mere amorphous interference.
I touched her delicate cheeks. Now, at last, her lips were mine. I kissed them tenderly. The eyes opened and lit the sweet face, somehow knowing the ordeal was over. Her lips were parted, beckoning to be kissed again. They melted into mine in a wave of euphoric relief. Her tears flowed freely. It was over.
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