I submitted
this piece into a local literary competition run in my Sixth Form, it was a
finalist worthy piece and published within my school. The task was to create a
numinous scene – to this day I am still unsure that I fully comprehend what a
numinous scene should be! I decided to use to characters that will occur in the
high-fantasy novel I am beginning to work on, rather than fabricate completely
new ones. For those of you who are visual readers, my characters are dwarfs and can be perceived in a similar light to Gimli from The Lord of the Rings by
J.R.R Tolkien. This is a short extract so should not be too burdensome to read.
Enjoy!
A cave, a sacred capsule of refuge for dwarfs, now seemed
to detest their very presence. There was an ominous, tangible energy in the
cavern, everything now seemed harrowing to Gremï and Gnârzl. The stalactites, with
their jagged, serrated blades now hung sadistically from the ceiling of the
rounded cavern, ready to fall and claim a life. Likewise, the stalagmites magically
seemed to evolve and grow more large, daunting and imposing. Causing menacing
shadows to dance frantically on the cavern walls, the eerie purple light seemed
to have no source, as if it were seeping from every orifice of the cavern.
Whilst not being harsh, the light was somewhat stunning, and caused the two
dwarfs to stumble around the cavern like drunkards, as they in a semi-blind
state struggled to find each other. The walls themselves appeared to close in
on them, they were like meek mice, in the powerful paws of a cat, slowly, and
full of malice, closing its paws in on them. Trapped. The dwarfs’ minds began to
revolt against their very bodies, a whirl of coloured lights, and half muted
sounds filled their minds. Their bodies seemed to pulsate to the rhythmic
percussion, which the very cavern itself seemed to emanate. Boom, boom, boom… Swaying
on their feet, mesmerised, in a semi-conscious trance, they knew they were
experiencing something important, surreal, but important. Their own bodies now
seemed beyond their control, as they were swathed in the essence, the very
essence of life. The dwarfs' faces crinkled in hard concentration, for they
were concentrating on what they did not know. The blurry images and muted
noises in their minds began to torment them, as they twisted maliciously with
the truth, and played clinically with their past memories. Both Gremï and
Gnârzl were convinced they were not destined to see light again, and that their
carcasses would lie in this cavern for ever to rot and decay. It seemed that
time itself had almost become lethargic, and its new-found slowness only seemed
to exemplify the clumsy, hallucinating staggering of Gremï and Gnârzl. Their
wide clumsy feet kicked up small hurricanes of dust from the brown earth
beneath them. Slowly, the two dwarfs, now thoroughly exhausted by the
extraordinary circumstances they found themselves in, began to collapse almost
elegantly to the floor, their small, squat but powerful bodies bundled tidily
to the floor in a mass of rusty brown hair, brown cotton tunics and leather
belts.
As soon as it came the unnerving purple light left, and the
cavern was plunged into darkness, no more pulsating beats, no more colours or
sounds in the slumped over dwarfs’ minds, just pure and perfect silence.
Silence. Gremï and Gnârzl lay soundlessly and peacefully on the cavern floor,
their breasts rocking backwards and forwards, deliberately beating life into
the two bodies. What had just happened? Are they dead? Will they wake to find
the afterlife? Will they see the family and their Klan again? Will they even
remember any of this? So many questions, so few answers; consciousness slowly
crept back into their now empty minds.
Gremï forced an eye open, and rubbed it
with a grimy, rough hand, propping himself painstakingly on his elbow.
‘Gnârzl?’ he inquired.
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