Chapter 4: Worlds Within Worlds
What happens when the world splits and something else comes into view? The ORIGINS of portals into worlds beyond Earth more than fiction. Ancient man created temples to facilitate passage, and modern man has slipped through these fissures unknowingly. Do they really exist, and if so, can aliens and even demons find their way into our world?
ORIGINS is written and produced by award-winning author Jaimie Engle.
When I was a little girl, I used to pretend everything. I could fly, I could do magic; the world was as big as my imagination and as limitless as my dreams. I read Narnia and learned that wardrobes could be portals to hidden worlds, so I began to check every door wondering where it really led. I read Alice in Wonderland and discovered that my dreams could open doorways into bizarre worlds where anything was possible. Needless to say, I slept more often after that. And because books like these have stood the test of time, I know I’m not alone in this obsession with other worlds whose borders touch our own. Like Hogwarts, the wizarding world that we wish to believe is real so badly that we have recreated it in a theme park. Do these worlds within worlds actually exist? Is there another realm hiding in the shadows of our own? Or are we overworked and so tired of reality we just wish to believe in something more?
Mankind has always made a connection between planet Earth and the idea of worlds beyond. The Greeks had Mt. Olympus, a place that was not accessible to mortals. To speak with the gods, you had to go through the temple and the priests. The Aztecs and Mayans built temples to honor their gods in a pyramid with four sides leading steadily to a flat point at the top. Known as ziggurats, these rectangular shaped structures often housed temples. Similarly, the pyramids of Ancient Egypt, more than 12 and 1/2 thousand miles away and centuries apart, shared the same shape and purpose: rectangular temples to worship gods. Why and how the similarities? Some believe slow travel by boat could have mixed the cultures over time. As for me? I always prefer the supernatural explanation.
The New Jerusalem, mentioned in the book of Revelations in the Bible, is stated to be one of only two possible shapes. According to its given dimensions, it is either a cube or a pyramid. Of course, it could be a coincidence that here we are again presented with a pyramid structure as related to the concept of God and worlds outside our own. But if you believe that, you would not be subscribed to a podcast like this. Far better explanations that hit closer to home are that the 1/3 who fell from the Heavens and claimed Earth as home tried to recreate what they’d left behind in the form of pyramids. They are called the Nephilim and have been depicted in Egyptian hieroglyphs as superhumans or giants, who fornicated with human women to breed a new form of man. A hybrid demon, if you will.
In fact, in 1705, Cotton Mathers claimed that bones discovered in Albany, New York, belonged to these massive giants killed in Noah’s flood, and perhaps the very reason that the flood happened at all. Mathers actually wrote a book titled Wonders of the Invisible World. Mathers definitely believed in worlds within worlds, but maybe not quite the same way explained here. You see, Cotton Mathers was instrumental in bringing about the destruction and death of many innocent people in Salem, Massachusetts. Mathers in part fed the hysteria brought about by the Salem Witch Trials. And the bones he found were eventually determined as the remains of a mastodon.
Later, in 1928, a Peruvian archaeologist discovered a graveyard containing skulls too large to be human, yet too human to be anything else. The DNA of these more than 3,000 year old bones was tested and contained mutations not known to humans, primates, or animals. The verdict is still out as to whether or not these are the skulls of giants that once roamed the earth. Similar accounts in England, Rome, Saudi Arabia, Greece, and even Wisconsin have gone reported, tested, and labeled inconclusive.
Another theory about the pyramids is that these large buildings are homing beacons for outside beings or aliens to find their way once the time is right. Perhaps if they are all used on the same day at the same time, they will send a universal signal into the cosmos, like a lighthouse warning ships of impending danger. I think this is a familiar movie premise. Still others say there is a connection to the mythical world of Atlantis buried beneath the temple mounts of these famous pyramids.
Some believe that these immense pyramids are portals to other worlds. Think The Fifth Element film and you will be tracking with me. Personally, I love all these theories. It’s the stuff that lights me up, gets my imagination rolling, and my heart hoping that there is more out there than what meets the eye. Do I truly believe? Maybe. But at any rate, these concepts shape the words I write and the worlds I build.
In 2014 a house was purchases in Gary, Indiana, and torn down two weeks later. The site was home to a demonic possession so fierce the house was labeled as “Hell House” and sworn to be a center of demonic activity as a portal directly to and from Hell. Before the sale, Latoya Ammans and her children lived in the house. On a warm summer day with the windows opened to let in a breeze, a swarm of black flies manifested before the family’s eyes, not having flown in through the window, but rather leaving that way. The startled kids were soothed and sent to bed only to be awoken night after night by the creaking footsteps on the stairwell leading to their upstairs bedrooms. Lying in bed, paralyzed in fear, with covers pulled up to their noses, the sounds of bedroom doors opening and closing left the Ammans’ terrified and sleep-deprived. Latoya contacted a priest for an exorcism. While waiting, her children were lifted and thrown against the wall with such brutal force that the drywall crumbled. Latoya was attacked by what she claimed were black monsters whose hands found no trouble clamping her neck and squeezing until she fell unconscious.
The series of exorcisms proved unproductive. Could it have been because the three children continued to placate the demons by actually encouraging them to enter their home through the portal they believed existed there? The kids would chant satanic verses while gathered around their sister who lied on the bed. This act brought forth an immediate odorless oil that stained the sheets and blankets. The sister levitated, her body light as a feather, as their chanting grew into a raging wind outside of their control. The girl was lifted until her tiny body pressed into the ceiling before the “unseen” disappeared and she dropped to the bed, breaking the wooden frame. A hooded specter with red eyes witnessed the whole spectacle, though she never came forward nor has she been seen again since the house’ destruction. Was she the demon conjured by the spell when the children opened the gate? Or was this all from the mind of a delusional single mother desperate for a new home?
CERN or The European Organization for Nuclear Research is being accused of purposely opening a portal to Hell. By smashing particles together, attempting to unlock the secrets of the universe, the belief is that they might blast open a gateway for Apocalyptic demons to use. Essentially, they will be building a black hole or wormhole on Earth and the truth is, we don’t know what an opening in time and space like that could do. It’s a pretty incredible story, and whether or not it brings in demons to take over the world, the possibilities are without precedence so your guess is as good as mine. Or CERNs.
Similarly, in Time Square in New York and Trag-al-gar Square in London, two identical arches of the Temple of Baal, measuring 43 feet tall and 23 feet wide, are being erected by the Institute of Digital Archeology and UNESCO. Potentially, these two structures could work like input and output sites to bring forth otherworldy types from many unknown worlds, in the same way that the nexus portals on Asgard bring Thor, Loki, and the rest of the gang to our planet to wreak havoc. Don’t believe it’s possible? Check out these two stories:
In Liverpool, a man walked along the sidewalk of Bold Street on a regular day when he suddenly felt a tug through his body, as if his heart skipped a beat. When the moment passed, the world was suddenly different. The air smelled unfamiliar. The buildings appeared to be shorter or taller, and some disappeared altogether; he couldn’t tell since he walked the street so often the setting blurred in his memory. Women and men passing on the sidewalk stared at him like he was a ghost. He couldn’t place what, but something about them was off. Their hats. They all wore hats. And the women’s hair was neatly pinned beneath it. In fact, their clothing was different, old-fashioned. Now panic stretched across his chest. A honk blared, because the man had stumbled into the road from shock, and an old two-story bus roared past. The world began to spin. He didn’t know how, but he was sure he had stumbled into Liverpool circa 1950.
In Tokyo, a man landed at the Tokyo International Airport in a daze. The year was 1954. He produced his passport, an exact replica of the thousands of others that had crossed the airline attendant’s desk, only it listed his country of origin as Taured. The man claimed it existed between Spain and France, stated that he was travelling on business like he had been for the past five years. His passport matched his travel frequency, though Taured was not on any map. Frustrated by the inconvenience, he spouted how the country had been in existence for 1,000 years and insisted the personnel let him go as he wasn’t doing anything wrong. The authorities brought him to a hotel where he would spend the night while they sorted everything out. After all, they couldn’t allow an unauthorized person into Japan with no known country of origin. The pieces just didn’t match up. With two guards posted outside his door, the man reluctantly went into his room for the night. The next morning, the guards stepped aside for the authorities to enter, only the man was gone; disappeared without a trace.
Was he a time-traveller from another dimension? Had he slipped through a portal during his flight and ended up in a world without Taured? Or maybe he was an alien posing as a man with his own way out or a demon? I guess in the end, we’ll never know, and that’s what makes it interesting.
ORIGINS is a bi-weekly podcast that shares the story behind legends and lore, where myth and science meet; written and produced by me, award-winning author Jaimie Engle of The Write Engle. If you like stories with a supernatural slant, I happen to write them. In fact, I have a new book releasing this summer. It’s a collection of my supernatural, humor, and historical short stories titled The Toilet Papers: Places to Go, While you Go. You can learn more about it by clicking on the BOOKS tab. Please follow me on all social media @theWRITEengle. I follow back. As always, subscribing, liking, and sharing this podcast is your greatest compliment. Thank you. This episode featured a sample from The Toilet Papers titled “The Priest” a story that deals with demons, worlds within worlds, and what happens when they collide.
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Music by Ben Sound http://www.bensound.com/
The saloon doors swung open with a creak as heavy winds wailed outside. The man stumbled in, and the bartender never would have thought twice about him or given him a second glance, if it hadn’t been for the squirrelly look in his eyes.
“Sarah,” Jedediah whispered to the young girl standing beside him behind the bar. “Go on in the back and get a message out.”
“To whom?” She stared up with her mother’s green eyes. Dark hair tumbled across her shoulders. Sarah regarded the sweat-covered man as he crept across the saloon floor mumbling beneath his breath. A thin comb-over raked by the wind stood upright as a scarecrow on top of his head.
“Okay, papa.” Sarah turned on her heels and scurried away.
“Hello there, stranger,” Jedediah’s voice boomed. “Can I fetch you a drink?”
The man teetered toward the bar, much in the way most men left it. His darting eyes finally found their way to Jedediah’s face.
“There you go,” Jedediah said, coaxing a baby. “Come on, now. Take a seat.”
Slowly, the muttering man slid – he was barefoot, Jedediah now noticed – across the sawdust laden floor and into an empty barstool. Jedediah set a glass of whiskey before him. “Looks like you need one.”
The man wasted no time slamming the drink back. Jedediah minded the dirt beneath his very long fingernails. “What’s your name, fellow?”
The man set down the glass and Jedediah refilled it on instinct. “It’s Frances Deveaux.” He sipped the whiskey with shaking hands. The wind wailed louder.
“What brings you to these parts, Mr. Deveaux?” Jedediah asked, on account of the man’s northern accent.
The doors flew into the hardwood walls by a heavy gust and Mr. Deveaux nearly jumped out of his skin.
Jedediah motioned for Bobby Ray, a dark-haired kid who worked for him from time to time, to close the doors. “A bit on edge tonight?”
Frances Deveaux turned around to face the bar top. His hands had stopped shaking. The fog shrouding his mind seemed to have lifted. He trained his now clear eyes upon Jedediah’s. “Guess I am.”
He had a good face, as far as Jedediah was concerned, rounded with a long nose and thick brows. A five o’clock shadow covered his cheeks and chin.
“What’s got you so scared?” Jedediah fidgeted with an already clean tumbler, taking a towel to it inside and out. Sweat beaded on his closely shaven head. His handlebar moustache tickled his upper lip.
Frances Deveaux’s hands started rattling again, as if whatever had possessed him earlier had returned. “She…tried to…kill me!” His bulging blue eyes locked on Jedediah’s steel grays. “I had to do it…”
A train horn blared through the air from the nearby station. Wind banged the shutters. The doors flapped with a heavy bang. Frances Deveaux shook his head, maybe trying to remember, most likely trying to forget.
Bobby Ray inched to within an arm’s reach of the man, his Winchester hidden beneath his long coat.
Jedediah reached for the Colt Peacemaker he carried in his holster. “Why’s there dirt beneath your nails, sir? What’d you do to her?”
Frances Deveaux’s smile lurched across his face, demented as the Devil himself. His teeth hung in pointy rows like a weatherworn picket fence. “I gave her what she wanted.”
“What was that, Mr. Deveaux?”
His eyes floated lifeless in his head and his neck bent unnaturally to the side. A new voice rolled off his tongue, and said, “Yooouuuu!”
The thing inside of Frances Deveaux lunged across the bar, swiping long fingernails at Jedediah the way a honey badger swipes its claws. Jedediah leapt. Frances Deveaux’s body slammed into the bottle display that crashed to the ground alongside him. Glass splinters stuck to his face glinted in the light of the kerosene lamps.
He growled spraying blood stained spittle through the air. Jedediah got off a shot. The bullet sunk into Frances Deveaux’s shoulder, knocked his frame off-kilter, but the man didn’t flinch. He just kept coming.
“Good, God,” Jedediah muttered, as Frances Deveaux inched closer. “Sarah!” Jedediah pumped a few rounds into the undead’s chest. “You send that message yet?”
“He’s coming, Papa!”
“Don’t you come out here.” Jedediah pulled the trigger to an empty chamber. With no time to reload, he grabbed a chair and flung it. The wood crunched with Frances Deveaux’s nose and broke them both. Jedediah side-glanced the bar. It had emptied.
Except for Bobby Ray.
He was a skinny kid with brown eyes set close together. But he was fearless. He stood in a wide fighting stance with one hand gripping his knife, the other his gun. He smirked. “Looks like you’re needing some help.”
“What the hell you gonna do with that knife?” Jedediah spat. “You don’t even know how to use it.” He dodged out of the way of Frances Deveaux’s body, which smacked into a table before hitting the floor.
Bobby Ray staggered closer to the brawl, swinging his knife at the creature in long strides. Frances Deveaux snarled, swatting the knife out of Bobby Ray’s hand as if it was a playing card. The knife landed with a clink on the floor. Panicked, Bobby Ray aimed his gun, shooting off six rounds into everything but Frances Deveaux.
“Damn it all, Bobby Ray. What the hell are you doing?”
“Helping.” He eyed the walls where his rounds had wedged.
The wind howled. The shutters slammed. Frances Deveaux screeched inhuman sounds. Jedediah had no more ammo, and wasn’t about to risk Sarah’s life by having her bring him more. He turned to Bobby Ray. “Lay a line of salt in front of the door. This may not be the only one.”
Bobby Ray pulled a satchel from his hip and marked the beginnings of a crooked salt line across the threshold. The saloon doors blew open whacking Bobby Ray in the head and sending him to the floor unconscious.
Jedediah turned, hopeful.
It was just the wind. In the split second when his attention faltered, Frances Deveaux barreled into Jedediah. The air left his lungs as his back cracked against the floor. His whole body screamed in silent pain. The sound on life itself had been shut off. But the serrated teeth grinding into his shoulder kept him grounded in reality. His eyes rolled back. Jedediah prayed.
He could see in flickers, the way lightning bolts light up the trees and things in the darkness when the heart of the storm passes overhead. In an instant, Frances Deveaux was ripped off Jedediah and flung across the room. He gulped air into his burning lungs. Jedediah’s hearing returned as a ping that evolved into muted voices.
The man who had set Jedediah free wore a charcoal gray trench coat and cowboy hat. He carried a flaming scythe in one hand, a glowing rifle strapped tight across his back. In an ancient tongue, brandishing the scythe high above his head, he swung through the air in a wide arc. The flame sliced through the body of Frances Deveaux with a supernatural crack. Frances Deveaux fell dead to the floor. The blade didn’t cut into his flesh.
It fractured his soul.
Sarah ran over to Jedediah. Bobby Ray had come to and was staggering over to help.
“Get him to his feet,” Sarah ordered.
“Watch my shoulder,” Jedediah said. “Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
Sarah slipped beneath his wounded arm while Bobby Ray slipped under the other one. They led Jedediah to a seat that hadn’t been overturned during the fight.
The cowboy knelt before him, pulling back Jedediah’s shirt to scrutinize the wound. His face remained hidden by the wide brim of his hat. He wore hide boots whose origin Jedediah could only speculate and his skin smelled like fire.
“It’s not too deep,” the cowboy said. “Won’t take me a minute.” He pressed his large flat palm against the wound.
Jedediah bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. His mouth pooled with the iron-taste of his own blood.
The cowboy lifted his hand.
Jedediah stared as the gaping holes in his flesh were completely healed; the tear in his blood soaked shirt was all that remained. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Be careful, bartender. You don’t meant it.” He leaned over the body of what had once been Frances Deveaux and whatever had tried to eat Jedediah. “This one’s dead.”
“Course he is,” Bobby Ray said. “You killed him.”
“No. This man’s been dead.” The cowboy rolled the body on to its stomach with the steel-tipped toe of his boot. “Was before he walked through those doors.”
“The living dead?” Bobby Ray whispered.
“Of all the unholy things,” said Sarah.
Beneath Frances Deveaux’s shoulder blade lay an empty cavity where his liver should have been.
“Detestable.” Sarah covered her mouth and swept to an empty seat near the bar.
“Did he say why he was here?” the cowboy asked, staring at the body.
“Not precisely. Just said some woman tried to kill him, so he gave her what she wanted.”
“And what was that?”
Jedediah gulped hard. “Me.”
The man looked up, his face in shadows. “You?”
“Did she say what for?”
“Never got to that part.”
The man didn’t say a word as he stared at Jedediah. Finally, he spoke. “Something’s after you, Jed. I’m gonna stay in town a while to figure out what.” He looked up. “You okay with that?”
His eyes shone in a radiant shade of violet. Dirty-blond hair fell ragged from beneath his hat.
“Yes, Simeon. I’m okay with it,” Jedediah said. “I think I’m gonna need some help on this one.”
“First thing to figure out is where this man’s liver went. Hopefully, it will lead to this woman you mentioned.” Simeon stood, walked back to the entrance, and turned in the doorway. “You all better get your feet shod,” he said with a smirk, tipping his hat, “because it’s about to get ugly.”