To Be Summoned

Many rituals and games summon a specific entity that seems to exist as part of the process itself. But have you considered that sometimes when you call upon a 'guest' or a 'player', they are a simple denizen of some other world filling a role?

And have you considered that some day denizens like them could call on you?

Have you noticed how a ritually summoned being must invariably follow rules? That you are always in some kind of peril if you fail to observe the rules yourself? One thing you will not see is the possibility of harm befalling your visitor. Often, the visitor must even be given a gift. Now imagine that you ARE that visitor. Much safer than summoning one, right? Read on.

It will come as no surprise that summoning requires a connection between worlds. The purpose of a ritual is to make that connection. If you are a little detached from the world, you may be the one to receive that connection. Have you ever been worn out and just about ready to fall asleep on your feet? So tired that you are grateful for a few seconds to close your eyes and take a deep breath? You may have noticed when you opened your eyes again that the room somehow... popped.

Even though you were observing the same surroundings moments ago, you have almost forgotten what you were looking at. Colours are brighter, objects are somehow more solid; everything just looks more real. For a moment there, you drifted away from the world. That is not a metaphor. If enough time passes in that state, you may see a light in the darkness or hear a sound in silence. Maybe there will be a door in front of you, or a sudden desire to sit. These are all invitations. You will also have a very strong but rarely specific intuition about what it is you are being invited to participate in.

For example, you will be unaccountably certain that you will be expected to give advice. What you will not have is any idea of is what you will be asked to advise on. The safest thing that you can and should do is to think about your surroundings and come back to the world. If you approach the light, knock on the door, etc., then you are accepting the invitation. Consider how many rituals we have recorded to contact other worlds. Consider that we have no idea how many other worlds there are performing their own rituals. Multiply a large number by an unknown-but-also-large number and you have an idea of how much chance you have of predicting what you are about to get caught up in.

I have accepted nine invitations. I will never accept a tenth.

The first was eight years ago, before I was even aware of rituals outside of Ouija boards and low budget horror films. I had been working on an urgent software fix and stayed at the office until everyone had left. Then I stayed for a further three hours. Exhausted and getting nowhere, I leaned back in my desk chair and 'rested my eyes for a few moments', trying to forget about the project. As my mind cleared, the low whir of my desktop seemed to degrade and crack. Focusing on the sound, I realised that I was hearing rain. I felt a sense that I would be given warmth, shelter, a delicious meal, and a chance to speak to an amiable stranger. I am not usually a lucid dreamer, but not knowing any better, I assumed that must be what I was experiencing and welcomed the break. I sensed light through my eyelids and heat on my skin. I opened my eyes and saw that I was in front of a fire.

I was sat at the centre of some kind of gazebo with rain pouring down all around. A kneeling figure faced away from me, with a hand on the ground just far out enough to catch the rain. They addressed me as 'traveler' and asked me a series of arithmetic questions. A few of these took a little thinking about (remember, multiplication before addition) but I was confident that I had got them all right. I know I would have been sent away without my meal had I got one wrong. I don't know how many questions they asked me, why the answers were useful, or how long I was there.

Eventually, the rain abruptly stopped, and I was told that the fire was about to go out. I was woken by my alarm clock in my own bed moments later. Thinking it a really weird dream, I went to work as usual to find the bug fix completed along with a very happy client and an impressed boss, who gave me a small bonus on the spot. I now understand this to be my delicious meal. CCTV footage shows that I worked at a remarkably consistent pace for 20 minutes before efficiently collecting my belongings and leaving the office.

It was later that a friend told me about a similar 'really weird dream' and I became interested in what may be going on. That was when I found communities sharing rituals and started reading. But never did I find anyone talking about having been summoned. I thought maybe that it was rare, or that it was poor forum etiquette to talk about it, so I would occasionally go on little adventures but kept them to myself. Whatever the reason, I can no longer stay silent.

My final accepted invitation was a little over a week ago. Only now do I feel able to describe it. If you are hoping that I am to have my guts pulled out through my ears at midnight or that I am being tormented by unbearable visions of hell then I have to disappoint you. But if you do not think that what I have to tell you is anything to fear then I hope for your sake that you are right.

I arrived home late after an evening out. Kicking off my shoes and flopping onto the nearest chair, I didn't notice myself drifting. Not until I heard a faint knocking sound above my head. Opening my eyes, or so I thought, I saw a wooden trapdoor. Realising what was happening, I decided that a ball game in which I would not even have much to do might be fun. I had nowhere to be the next day. There were five more raps on the door. After a theatrical pause, I returned them. I immediately had a sense that I was surrounded by apprehension despite being calm myself. The door was opened and I floated up until I could just barely peek above the frame. Looking around, I think I was in a forest clearing. There was a dense canopy of what almost looked like matted fur. It was held up by structures that I can broadly compare to trees but with a pale, chalky look to them, contrasting the darkness beyond. Stood around me and determinedly not catching my eye were nine... beings.

Remember that whatever lives in these other worlds are often similar but never human. They were no more than four feet tall and very slender and slight, with no discernible features. They looked so fragile. The beings spoke a strange language - I think I was called 'Thontha'. This whole world was alien to me, but what I could pick up on without a trace of a doubt was the emotion of each one. The bravest started by throwing a bundle of rags over my head to another, who, after a sudden twinge of anxiety, caught it perfectly. At this, everyone's confidence increased a little.

After a few more throws and catches, seemingly at random like any good game of Piggy In The Middle, the apprehension took a back seat to boldness, even enjoyment. This lasted until I was able to catch a slightly-too-low throw, whereupon the apprehension returned, particularly in the one that was supposed to catch. The being that had thrown hesitantly spoke and the intended catcher eventually spoke back. Now all around I felt anticipation. Whatever had just happened, I was satisfied that it was time to continue and threw the cloth ball to the catcher.

Immediately, the mood shot up all around the circle. Triumph, fascination, confidence. The game continued like this, with me only occasionally catching a ball. After an awkward exchange between thrower and catcher, there would be a sense of relief, of a storm having passed, and spirits would soar ever higher. This lasted until I got the sense that I would need to leave very soon. That was when I caught the ball for the final time. When the thrower spoke, the catcher immediately tensed. It felt trapped, ashamed and afraid. It paused for a long time, I hoped long enough that I would be allowed to leave, but not quite. When it spoke, I knew that it was lying. I don't know what the lie was about or how extreme of a lie, just that this being had DARED to attempt a deception.

Despite treating this as a game, I was suddenly unaccountably furious at this. A fury I have never felt. A fury I didn't know existed. With an incoherent roar of anger, I threw myself up through the trapdoor and at the deceiver. The whole circle was terrified, and this poor thing felt a deep, mortal fear. But that didn't stop me. I pounced on it like an animal and launched my fists at its small form. It was as fragile as it looked. As I rained down frenzied blows, I felt cracking and shattering. Bones like glass broke into tinier and tinier shards. By the time I stopped sensing the fright and anguish, it was nothing more than a sack of translucent skin full of dust and fragments. Only then did I again become aware of the horror of the group around me. Coming somewhat to my senses, I fled back through the door, slammed it shut behind me, and willed myself awake. I was alone in my room as I had been before.

I don't know exactly what ritual I responded to, though the basic details aren't hard to work out. What I am very clear on is that I murdered a living thing. The game may have brought me there and given rise to a feeling, but the overwhelming rage came from within. Few people will believe it happened and none will ever hold me accountable for it. I have to live with what I have done, and what I now know is a part of me, with no way to make amends. Maybe there are also some directly dangerous invitations. But know that none are sure to be safe, and that you don't have to be cursed to be broken.