On Tap

Fifth Passage:

Winter had arrived before Elena could make her fifth passage. The cold clear days had transformed the Cornish moorland into a frosty study of whites and greys. The Mên-An-Tol was etched with frost which created delicate patterns across the stone making it look like a carved crystal. Elena's appearance had changed somewhat since her initial passage through the stone. Not in any dramatic way, but subtly. There seemed to be a depth to her eyes that had not existed before, which suggested a knowledge that distanced her from the world of ordinary perception. Now her research had become far more than academic, and had become more of a calling. She had a certainty beyond rational thought that her fifth passage would again be different.

Her visit was in the deathly quiet of midwinter, that time when the world appeared to be holding its breath. The one thing she noted was that although the moorland was covered in frost there was a quite small area around the stone that was completely free of frost. This even though the stone itself was frost decorated. But she had long known that this was no ordinary place. The stone remained, as always, waiting, watching. The circular hole remained a perfect dark invitation. He hand went to the sea-glass charm, which was now accompanied by a small leather pouch that contained some of the moorland soil. This a protective measure suggested by an elderly lady storyteller who had listened to her story with knowing eyes that betrayed a deep seated knowledge.

She once again approached the stone which seemed to pulse with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. It was now no longer an object, it had become a living threshold. 'Fifth passage' she said to herself the small cloud have her breath disappearing almost instantly. The passage was less physical now, more like a transactive meditation, along with the impression that something moved with her, or through her. The layers of perception evaporated like so many translucent membranes. Fragments of sound. Memories, not hers. Flashes of landscapes that existed between moments. The whisper of wings - a bird? The profound sense of being watched by countless unseen eyes.

She emerged into a fundamentally changed landscape. The standing stones around her had become guardians. Each one with a story, a memory, of its own older than any human could comprehend. A landscape that breathed a consciousness that included her own, and yet somehow transcended it and her own understanding. Again there were movements in her peripheral vision, not quite animals, not quite human. Something in between. Her recorder had only captured white noise, a static that seemed to contain entire conversations, all enticingly beyond comprehension.
'Fifth passage' she murmured, her voice somewhat ethereal 'boundary dissolution complete. Convinced the world is not what we believe it to be.'.

The charm around her neck grew warm, a silent guardian against whatever transformation was coming.

Five passages done. Four more remaining.