Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: A Bridge of the Spirit

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Some bridges can’t be burned.

Some can only be crossed, but reaching the destination is not guaranteed . . . except perhaps for a bridge of the spirit, built from love.



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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: The Spirit In the Storm

Beware the spirit who dwells in the storm.

It is careless of innocence, and sees us all as a suitable sacrifice.

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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: What the Light Illumines

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Here, the light is a living thing.

It births bridges and portals, reveals thresholds and interstices, permits other spirits to pass. When you look at it, where it goes, beware: Things may not be as ordinary as they seem.

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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: When the Sun Sets In the East

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Some portals are powerful enough to invert existence.

Some spirits are powerful enough to cross through them.



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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: A Knock at the Door

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It’s the spirits who knock at the door in the dark.

They may only be confused, or they may simply have a message to deliver. But sometimes, the message is one that, like the night air that leaves you breathless, strips you of your soul.

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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: The World Below the Earth

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There are portals in the earth, beneath the waters, in the sky.

When you see a ghostly runner at the mouth of one of these portals, one leading to the world below, do not run toward him. He has a job to do, and so do you; yours is to lead the spirits at his heels away, safely aboveground in this world.



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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: Great Yellow Bird

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The only bridges in this place are ladders; they bisect the sky of a world on fire.

Sometimes the ladders lead out of the dark; sometimes, into a place beyond the dark. And sometimes, still darker things find a way up them into the light, to fling themselves against the glass of a world on fire.



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Bridges, Portals, Thresholds, Interstices: The Eye

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She doesn’t just burn bridges; she dynamites the motherfuckers.

You can burn bridges in this world all you want, but the bridge to the other world is out of reach of ordinary fire and flame. If you forget, occasionally the sky opens its great unblinking eye to remind you.




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Section I, Chapter 7; First Line:

There will be no cowrie shell to tell her they’ve found their home.

A forced migration, one not of the spirit, is void of the signs that mark a destination as home. But there are other roads to take, paths of mind and spirit, that sometimes provide other guides.



Note: This will be the last of these for a while. Tomorrow will mark a return to images; thereafter . . . [shrug]. Some histories contain too much pain to wade through and come out the other side, and I cannot afford to get trapped right now. There are other stories that need to be told, other spirits who should not be forgotten. Perhaps it's their turn.



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Section I, Chapter 6; First Line:

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Her ghosts walk all the time, not only at October’s end.

There are ghosts all along each path of migration; mysteries, too. Some will be understood, their puzzles solved, only long decades after departing from a stop along the path. 

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Section I, Chapter 5; First Line:

The one place of refuge along this dry and dusty road she travels is a big yellow building with brown wood trim at the center of a city block.

Migration sends a child into the unknown, in pursuit of goals not her own. Once in a great while, a place of refuge all her own appears.



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Section 1, Chapter 4; First Line:

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The ghosts in this place are unfamiliar, speaking a language her own spirit cannot understand.

Sometimes spirits line the detours along a migratory path. Sometimes, what lines the path is a void, more frightening that the ghosts could ever be.

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Section 1, Chapter 3: First Line:

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This migratory path is forcing her to become someone she doesn’t know.

Sometimes, the path of forced migration changes you into someone you don't recognize. Sometimes your ghost lives in the mirror; sometimes it inhabits a whole other world, known only to you.



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Section 1, Chapter 2; First Line:

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She can feel the ghosts in the halls, especially on dark and cloudy days, but nowhere near the number that crowded the high corridors of the poor kids’ school.

Forced migration often leads to the forcing of other things, as well, including enforced loss. Sometimes that loss spawns ghosts of one's own. 

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Section I, Chapter 1; First Line:

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It’s a brilliantly sunny day in September when her father stalks into the principal’s office at her new school.

When one is set forcibly upon a path of migration, obstacles and detours are not always immediately recognizeable, much less surmountable. But sometimes, ghosts of a time long past can help to clear the way.

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Migration, Section I, Chapter 1; First Line:

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On a late summer’s day, yet still far earlier than it would have been back home, her mother takes her to her new school to enroll before the start of the new year.

Sometimes there are no comforting ghosts along the path of migration, only the monsters of loneliness. But sometimes, the path can be rerouted just a bit.


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Introduction, Chapter 7; First Line:

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She passes a solitary summer to the tune of the rolling potash trains and the acrid scent of sulfur.

Forced migration is never comfortable; new worlds are strange and often hellish. But if you're lucky, once in a while you can still find moments of joy in being.



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Introduction, Chapter 6; First Line:

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The new house is not without its horrors.

Migration leads you to  new places, places inhabited by new spirits. The ghosts are not always friendly.



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Introduction, Chapter 5; First Line:

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Soon enough, they migrate north and east, to the other side of town.

When migration takes you far from what's familiar, you have to find a place to call your own. If you settle deep within that place, you may hear its own ghosts walk.

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Introduction, Chapter 4; First Line:

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It’s not long before they migrate a small distance further, to another small, cold house a few blocks away.

When migration is forced by powers greater than your own, you have sometimes have to go wears others take you. Sometimes, you leave ghosts behind you on the path.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.