As a child, I sometimes found myself outside my body. At first, it wasn’t frightening, just strange. But one evening, things went wrong.
This phenomenon is known as an OBE (Out-of-Body Experience), and science has yet to explain it. In my case, it was possibly a result of a problematic upbringing combined with a vivid imagination. I developed the ability to “travel” to places where everything was fine. I had my sanctuaries far away from the challenging situation my family and I were in. It was all good until one evening when things went completely out of control.
I am now an old man, but what happened was so soul-shaking that it’s impossible to forget. It turned into a nightmare. I was trapped outside my body with no idea how to return. I’ve used this experience as inspiration for a mini-novel titled “Stranded on Lokor,” and the story begins like this:
The dark compartment moved slowly forward on an uneven surface. I lay curled on a leather bench, shivering, alone, and scared. The safety I felt in the back seat of my uncle’s car was replaced with confusion. Where was I? Why wasn’t I in Uncle Sigurd’s car? The old structure creaked and groaned, and a sour smell filled the air. I couldn’t understand why it was so dark and cold. Seeing anything in the darkness was impossible, but I discovered that my clothes differed from those I wore in the car. The pants had no pockets, the shirt was thin and collarless, and I had no socks or shoes.
A lightning bolt lit up the sky, revealing three rain-soaked windows and a door on each side. It felt like horses were pulling the carriage, and occasionally, I heard shouting and the crack of a whip through the heavy rain. The road was likely muddy and difficult to traverse. I carefully explored the compartment with my hands. The doors were locked, but the lid on the bench could be opened. Inside was a blanket that I wrapped around myself. It helped, and I assumed I would soon be back in the car. I promised to stop looking for openings into other worlds, closed my eyes tightly, and tried to will myself back. But every time I opened my eyes, everything remained just as bleak.
The carriage rocked on the narrow, increasingly soggy road, and the wheels were often on the verge of getting stuck. Progress was slow until we reached what seemed to be a paved main road, and the carriage stabilized. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on the hard surface made me drowsy until the horses slowed. Outside, only the rain hitting the windows was visible in the faint glow of a roadside lamp. The carriage stopped. I tried to look out but saw nothing. Voices approached, and I noticed the horses being unhitched before the carriage moved slowly a few meters and stopped again.
I saw a motorized ferry barge glide between tall poles toward a stone quay in the light from a lantern at the end of a pier. The front ramp was lowered, and several freight wagons loaded with iron beams were winched ashore. Large workhorses stood ready and were backed into the shafts of the wagons. I shielded my eyes and pressed my face against the window to see what was happening, but I could only make out shadows. A freight wagon with lit lanterns passed by, followed closely by two others.
The carriage moved again and entered a better-lit area. I saw the outline of a corrugated iron warehouse. I heard the winch on board the ferry hauling the carriage. Assuming I would soon be back in the car, I fell asleep to the vague thuds of the large hot-bulb engine pushing the ferry barge into deeper water.
I woke up when the carriage was hoisted onto a ship a few hours after departure. Looking out, I was dismayed that I was still somewhere I didn’t want to be. There wasn’t much to see, just a few lights reflecting on the water, the lamp on the bridge, and a railing. I saw no sailors but heard a few brief commands and the sound of the crane winch before falling asleep again.
The next time I woke up, I saw rusty iron cranes unloading and loading ships docked at a kilometer-long warehouse quay. The carriage was lifted from the coal-fired cargo ship. I looked out over a run-down city stretching for miles inland. Tall factory chimneys released black smoke, and everything was filthy. No, I don’t want to be part of this. This is impossible.
Curious to learn more about the story? Click here to dive into a journey of fear, survival, and the struggle to return home.
