The Girl in the Glade

The Girl in the Glade

by

Rachel Cray

CHAPTER 1

WE WERE DRIVING TO Wendover to collect David, our three year-old son.  My sister Susie had offered to look after him overnight while my wife and I attended a friend’s wedding in Guildford.  It was Sunday morning, the roads were clear and, because I had a hangover, Jane – my wife – was behind the wheel.

We had been married nearly four years; we were happy, and confidently expected the best years of our life together to stretch before us.  I’d taken a couple of painkillers for my headache, and I was feeling drowsy.  I was relaxed and began drifting off to sleep.

Fighting the temptation to close my eyes, I remember seeing a footbridge spanning the road in the distance.  Two figures were looking down at the traffic driving beneath; they seemed to be holding something large and heavy, but I thought nothing more about it.  Jane drove on.

In the next minute, all hell broke loose.  A huge slab of rock came crashing through our windscreen and landed on Jane’s lap.  She screamed, and the car veered out of control.  The car rammed against a wall.  I felt a sharp pain at the side of my head and turned, with difficulty, to talk to Jane.

She was staring blankly ahead; blood was streaming from her temple.  I called out to her, but there was no response.  In the seat, where the rest of her body had been, was a huge block of concrete; she lay squashed, motionless, underneath this obscene intrusion.

Then, a moment later, all feelings of pain left me; the sound of our car horn was still there, but somehow muted.  The whole scene was a frozen picture in that precious time, my last few seconds with my darling wife.

I was being lifted from my seat.  My drowsiness had dissolved in an instant.  In the confined space inside the car, I was able to rise up from my body and turned round to look at myself; I could see inside my chest, and looked through my ribs at my lungs, with the delicate sacs gasping frantically for air.  I saw the contents of my stomach and the tortuous twists and turns of my intestines; each delicate organ within me seemed so carefully engineered as part of a whole life form.  Everything was so perfect, flawlessly designed and, until a moment ago, in unspoiled working order.

Suddenly I found myself on the outside of the car, looking through the cracked windscreen.  My wife had gone.  I wanted to cry out, but couldn’t.  I wanted to get back inside the car, back inside my body, so I could look for Jane to give her first aid.  But I couldn’t.

Another figure appeared and stood next to me; I was unable to discern him clearly, but he appeared to be clad in a strange dark brown garment with golden flecks.  He was about my age, I judged, and there was something vaguely familiar about his features.  He seemed to express surprise that I had seen him, but quickly sought to reassure me that all would be well.  As he moved towards me, I brushed against his garment and perceived it had a feathery texture.

Is this the end? I asked.

Yes, Andrew, I’m afraid so, he answered slowly.  There’s nothing you can do.  Don’t fight it.

But my wife needs help, I protested.  I have to help –

No.  There’s no need to worry about her any more.  There’s nothing you can do.  You’ll see her again one day.  The Voice had a deep male timbre, was imperative but gentle and reassuring; I felt immediately that its owner could be trusted.  He stretched out his arms and the feathered texture of his clothing seemed almost like wings.  I gazed in awe for a second: was he an angel?

Come, Andrew.  Everything will be all right.

What happened?  How did that great concrete slab crash into our car?

It’s not worth thinking about.  Now, it’s time for us to go.

I was ten feet above the front of the car now, looking down.  I was so young, I whispered sadly.  I was unprepared for this.  An intense feeling of loss encircled me.  I was saying goodbye to myself.

I heard another voice in my left ear.  It sounded lighter, and more energetic, but it spoke with scorn. The value of my earthly life was being assessed.  Silly fool, the second sneered.  All wasted.  He could have achieved so much.  He had so many opportunities....

No, he wasn’t a fool, I asserted.  He just didn’t have enough time.  I liked him – I really did.  Just when I realised the possibilities of everything he could do with his life.

Brace yourself, announced the first voice, the Kind Voice.  We’re leaving.

I was transported to another scene, far away.  I saw the back of a young woman; as she came closer into view, and saw her dress, I recognised her as Susie, my sister.  She was cradling a small figure in her arms, and sobbing quietly against its face.  I heard a high-pitched cry, and realised it was David, my son.  They were mourning my unforeseen passing. 

Come on!  We must go now!

I next remember lying down on my back, being transported through a tunnel; I was travelling forward, feet first, at an immense speed.  I thought I felt compressed air rushing at my face, and turned my head sideways to protect my eyes.  I tried to make out the dark side of the tunnel as I raced towards my destination, but I was moving too fast.

The journey seemed to take some minutes.  I wanted to shut my eyes, but could not.

And then everything came to a standstill.  I was in a strange place, where a golden yellow glowed from the left and radiated everywhere; my soul bathed in a swirl of reassuring warmth and love.  The Kind Voice had accompanied me and instructed me to wait a short while.

I was floating, upright, and felt utterly relaxed.  Through the golden mist I made out a wall in front of me, with a doorway in the middle.  A male figure entered through the doorway; he was almost middle aged, with black curly hair and clothed in some kind of light full-length gown.

The Kind Voice announced my arrival; I was conscious of his standing behind me, but I never saw his face again.

You’re not expected, said the robed figure sternly.  You shouldn’t be here.  Your time is not yet come.  His lips didn’t move.  His words just entered my mind: communication here was telepathic.

Well, I’m here now.  And I can’t go back.  I noticed that I wasn’t actually speaking; it was as if my words were being enunciated from my soul.  I looked down at myself; I was now clad in a similar light robe that reflected the golden light surrounding us in this gorgeous place.

Be quiet! whispered the Kind Voice.  You can’t speak like that here!  I heard him apologise to the gate keeper for my lack of courtesy.

There was an interruption to my right.  All heads turned, and I beheld a beautiful female form, a young woman attired in a similar fashion to the rest of us.  Her light brown hair was arranged in tight curls and, as she turned her head, those curls radiated golden sparks in this world of warmth and light that contained us.

Although I perceived her to have a significant presence, the door keeper was the dominant power here.  Why are you here? he demanded of the female entity.  You don’t belong here!  He seemed almost angry.

I heard he had come, and I wanted to see him, she said with the same telepathy.

Here he is.  But he may not be staying. And now you’ve seen him, you can return to the place from where you came, he replied.

She turned to me, and smiled.  Hello, my love!  At last!  It’s so good to see you.  A profound longing in her eyes invoked a desire within me.  I wanted her.  I had lost my wife, but a sudden yearning for love enveloped me.  And this woman knew it.

We shall meet again one day, she said.  There is so much –

Begone! yelled the figure at the door.

And her form dissolved in the space where she stood, some three paces away from me.

The door keeper returned his attention to me.  Wait here.  I need to ask for advice.  He left through the doorway he had entered, and I felt alone.

While I waited, I turned to my right and, from this chamber where I was standing, I looked out on to the vast cosmos of existence.  I could see the tiniest protons, neutrons and electrons whizzing in their atomic orbits at enormously high speeds; I saw colossal galaxies moving slowly through the infinite dark void of the universe.  And I knew the exact position of each single atom within that gigantic creation that moved before me.  I was being imbued with omniscience.  Whatever mankind did not yet know was now being made known to me.

With that omniscience came sensations of both humility and tremendous power.

Then the door keeper returned.  You are to go back.  It is impossible for you to remain here: the destiny of others depends on your continued lifespan.  We must see you safely returned whence you came.

But I’m dead, I protested.  The body I had has ceased to function.

Can we find out if the body is still capable of sustaining life? asked the door keeper.

I felt the owner of the Kind Voice move beside me, but I didn’t see him.  Wait here, I was instructed.

I waited a few moments for a reply from the planet that had once been my home.

Yes!  There is still life.  He can come back!  I heard another voice in the far distance, one that was even now looking at my dying body.

But I can come back here any time I choose, I answered insolently.  I could get a gun, and shoot myself next week, and –

It doesn’t work like that, answered the door keeper.  He turned to the entity behind me, the Kind Voice that brought me here. Find someone to explain to him!

I was taken from the room – everyone floated gracefully in this world – and, almost instantly, I came face-to-face with both my grandmothers.  They had died several years earlier but I remembered them well and recognised them immediately; they were surprised to see me but, nonetheless, pleased to greet me again.  Our happiness was interrupted by the Kind Voice, who spoke firmly.

Tell him that he can’t come back here on his own volition!

One grandmother – my mother’s mother – patiently explained to me that, if I attempted suicide in order to return here sooner than planned, there would be terrible penalties to pay.  It was something that I should never consider; the consequences and punishments were too awful to describe.  I had to endure whatever life threw at me, and stay to the end.

Andrew, you must go back now, the Kind Voice urged.  Your time here is not yet come.

I found myself back in the long dark tunnel, my head crouched low, and I was travelling in reverse at high speed.  Throughout the journey, the words of the Kind Voice echoed through me: Your time is not yet come.

As I hurtled through space – head-first in this strange vehicle – all the knowledge that I had learned in that Next Place was being drained from my brain, racing down the dark tunnel straight back to that place from where I came.  Not so fast! I cried out.  My mind is going to lose everything!  I was frightened that I was going to have all my intellect wrenched from me, and be left with nothing.

Don’t worry.  You’ll be all right.  Everything will be fine, said my friend the Kind Voice, who was with me still.  You’ll come back one day.  And we’ll meet again, you and I.  But not yet.  Your time is not yet come.  I shall never be far from you.  Remember that.

When I turned to look at him, he had his back to me, his arm raised in valediction; the wide sleeve of his tunic was covered in the same brown and gold flecks I had seen before, with its feathered texture; it appeared like the wing of an angel about to fly away.

And returning to my mind now was the image of the smiling face of the female form with the long, tight brown curls, the being with whom I had fallen hopelessly in love.

In a sudden jolt, I returned into my body.  I felt angry; I had come from a beautiful place, where I knew nothing but warmth, peace and love.  Now I was back in this body, to be trapped here in this weak, imperfect and vulnerable shell for another sixty years or more. 

The pain returned to my head.  I heard myself cry out.  I opened my eyes, and I was in the car again.  Hands were running over my head and my body.  I felt something pricking into my arm, and then the pain faded again.

Come on, friend, we’ll soon have you in the ambulance, someone said to me just before I passed out. 

I AWOKE, UNSURE WHERE I was; I had forgotten all about the car crash.  I was lying on my back, looking up at a plain white ceiling; I couldn’t move my head.  All I could see was the whiteness above me.  Would the lady come, I wondered, the beautiful lady whom I had seen in my dream?  And where was I?  How had I come here? 

Then came a notion, from the inner recesses of my mind:  I might be in heaven.  How would Jane and David manage without me?  They’d get used to me