SKORONSKY ESCAPES THE ICE SPRITES
Let’s assume that eventually we will prove the existence of entities (life forms), which inhabit dimensions adjoining and overlapping our own. Would it then be such a stretch to encounter entities from dimensions adjoining that?
Levi Skoronsky, Ph.D.
Skoronsky escapes the ice sprites. Levi herring-boned up the hill away from the igloo as fast as he could. Not even a backwards glance, literally ski-daddling.
He allowed the first semblance of thoughts to try to form as his initial absolute terror began to subside. How did I allow this to happen?
Perhaps a full sixty seconds, and a hundred meters later – If they really wanted me, they could. What’s stopping them?
Another half-minute, as his breathing started to compensate for hyperventilation – It’s my fault. Inwardly, I wanted this.
Levi Skoronsky had gone perhaps a mile before he allowed himself the luxury of introspective analysis. The all-out effort of plowing through knee-deep snow on cross-country skis had, in a way, balanced his over-worked emotional and mental states. He slowed to a walk. The sound of someone chuckling startled him like a slap across the face. Said face crimsoned in embarrassment when he realized that it was he who had laughed.
“What will Perry say when I tell him I lost all the equipment?” Yes, Levi, in his rush to escape the igloo had time only to strap on his skis, grab the poles and go. The experimental Kirlian silver-di-halide photographic set-up was left behind.
Dr. Skoronsky had had encounters the previous winter with a group of elusive and shadowy creatures, culminating in a photograph of one as it “died.” The picture, grainy and out-of-focus, could not possibly be used as substantiation to anyone but the established church choir. “I need a different kind of camera,” Levi concluded.
He had a friend, Perry Johnson, Professor of Chemistry at the engineering school on the other side of the mountains. Dr. Johnson had another friend building state-of-the-art optical equipment. Levi showed Perry his photo.
“Looks like someone’s deformed teddy bear disintegrating in the snow. What did you say it was again?”
The question was unnecessary. Perry already knew of his friend’s research. Levi studied creatures deemed by the mainstream to be mythical (dragons, fairies, etc.) but was particularly interested in the sasquatch. Dr. J couldn’t say for himself whether the sasquatch was real or not, but he did share the view of many who knew Professor Skoronsky. Levi was becoming what he was studying: a citizen of the “netherworld.” Not only did Levi pursue what he called the “basic spirits of elemental nature,” he was beginning to consider the existence of beings inhabiting dimensions even further removed from physical reality.
Perry smiled good-naturedly at his friend. Borderline apparition or not, Professor Skoronsky definitely countered the unexciting appearance most research was perceived by the outside world. “Levi, I’ve been working on a new type of film. It’s capable of registering optical spectra beyond the visible. And my friend in the electronic engineering department has been working on a Kirlian camera.”
This was exactly what Skoronsky had been hoping to hear. “Can you build a unit that’s portable and can handle extreme field conditions by this winter?”
Levi closed his eyes, turning his left ear into the wind. Was that barely audible whine the blizzard whistling through the branches, or something else? Yes … no … the wind abruptly stopped but the sound continued. Not your normal mid-day sasquatch song, Levi mused, but something else.
Skoronsky was at his base camp, an igloo, built a few weeks before. The location was optimum — “the forest primeval” — whispered Levi when he first saw it. He had trekked in once a week, hauling supplies. Once a week minimized human intrusion, human vibes. “Don’t want to upset the balance of nature.”
He brought the camera in just this morning. Levi called it a “camera” – Perry had insisted that Skoronsky was custodian of an “experimental Kirlian silver-di-halide photographic set-up.” Okay … thanks, Dr. Johnson. He had tried to test it earlier, closer to home, but had not encountered anything of interest. Well, no encounters when he had the camera. Predictably (according to Murphy’s Law), Levi had ‘close encounters’ when the camera was set up elsewhere or not brought. And there was something else.
Two or three times Levi felt that the group of ‘study subjects’ he was close to were the tip of the iceberg. He couldn’t explain it any other way. Shadowy and ethereal as these creatures were, he had felt an underlying force, or essence, encompassing them all. And it was not a pleasant sensation.
Sasquatch intonations or not, something was approaching. Skoronsky began to assemble the camera inside the igloo. Certain calibrations had to be done, and it was quicker in the dark. When ready, the system would automatically take shots upon detection of subtle electro-magnetic field variations. While the electrodes stabilized and the film-emulsion warmed up, Levi stepped outside.
That is, Levi started to step outside. Something was blocking the door. It was a sheet of ice so clear that he could easily see out. The temperature was falling rapidly. The camera began to take photos. Levi began to hyperventilate. Each exhalation was an ever-more languid puff of slow-to-dissipate cloud. The cold concerned him, but not as much as the panic he felt. It seemed as if icy fingers were latching onto his soul.
This was like a dream where one is paralyzed or can’t control the falling sensation. Except it got stronger and stronger. Levi felt a presence in his mind, tendrils from a deep and formless impenetrable void. He could taste metal on his tongue. He was sinking, soon to irretrievably fall. Skoronsky mustered all his will, all of his power of discernment. Focusing on a spot in the ice sheet, he imagined a hole through this frozen energy field. Somehow, he broke through.
Skoronsky escapes the ice sprites.