San Kalpa

Darkness fell like a heavy velvet curtain and as if on cue, the stars of the southern hemisphere pieced the jet black night sky, their glory unhindered by the ubiquitous veil of light pollution which is the hallmark of civilisation. This transformation was however lost on Peter and Sarah as they focused on piloting their small hire car along the suddenly claustrophobic confines of Caves Road.

Caves road was what passes for the main road linking the small settlement of Yallingup with the famous surfing town of Margaret River in the South West of Australia. Margaret River also being the general name for the area which had over the past thirty years become known as a region of fine wineries and restaurants, as well as a playground and retreat for the wealthy stressed out citizens of Perth, Western Australia’s largest and only big city.

 

Earlier that day Peter and Sarah had visited Dunsborough, another small township and had been surprised and delighted to find an amazing Yoga centre, recently opened and financed by a rich refugee from back home in England. In addition to offering the usual yogic mix of meditation and impossible stretches, Sumadra also offered surfing lessons, its own range of clothing, and a coffee bar that served the best coffee, smoothies and scones either of them had ever tasted. Jool’s, one of the owners also enthused about the gardens they were planting and the retreats they were holding.

Peter and Sarah got so carried away with the updated hippie vibe of the place that they booked into a talk about nutrition which started at 5.30pm and didn’t finish until after 8pm, which was why they were so late going to dinner and why they had become so hopelessly lost on their way to Vasse Felix, a famous winery and restaurant which was to be the venue for the evenings culinary adventures. To make matters worse, from their limited experience of the past three days, the whole place closed down after about 10 o’clock and that was on the weekends! So they were both beginning to have serious misgivings about their decision to stay for the talk, misgivings that were amplified by the growing rumblings from their empty tummies.

‘Can you believe that woman’? Peter muttered the comment under his breath as if addressing no-one in particular.

Sarah sighed, her natural patience being tested by her growing hunger and the slight anxiety which she could feel building inside her head, revealing itself in the form of a low level but persistent throbbing in her temples.

‘Don’t you think though, she was a complete joke wasn’t she’? Peter’s tone had become more focused and demanding, something Sarah had experienced on countless occasions during their 13 year relationship and ten year marriage, she sighed again, accepting submissively that a response had been demanded and one would have to be provided. All the same, although she knew full well that Peter had a point, after all the woman weighed in at about 100 kilos and she was advising the audience to live on grasses, green smoothies, raw food and, to supplement vitamin B12, by eating insects, or at least their larvae as found in tree grown fruit.

Even the over generous Sarah could see that this large Russian lady was at the very least a little bit misguided and at the worst influenced and motivated more by her book sales than any real commitment to the ideas she preached with her mouth and contradicted with her body. Still, there was something in Sarah that was unwilling to criticize or condemn anyone, even in the face of overwhelming evidence of their guilt. She therefore took a long deep breath before giving her reply.

‘I thought she was very sincere, and a lot of what she said made sense, when we get home I’m going to buy a blender and try out those green smoothies they looked really good for you’

Peter let out an incredulous sarcastic guffaw, a reaction he involuntarily had in response to one of Sarah’s patented perverse opinions. He realised why Sarah was defending this woman, simply because he was attacking her but this did not, could not excuse the perversity, the suspension of rational thinking and so, as in so many similar cases he could not prevent himself from knee jerking into the next phase of what was turning into a mild argument.

‘You have got to be kidding haven’t you? Don’t you care about those poor children, the ones that were screaming all the way through the presentation, their parents were there for good advice on nutrition and now they will spend their formative years eating bugs, have you no compassion’?

The biggest thing that kept Peter and Sarah together, despite the fact that they were polar opposites was the fact that Peter made her laugh and that despite his intense, highly strung nature, he displayed a rare empathy towards the world in general and her in particular, an empathy which was mixed with a carefully hidden self deprecation often disguised as subtle humour. 

‘I know what you mean Peter, some of what she said was hard to swallow’ there was a small pause while they considered her statement before simultaneously bursting into a fit of giggles. 

The Kangaroo seemed to appear out of nowhere and even if Peter had been fully concentrating on the road ahead, there would have been no way to avoid the collision, Sarah had just enough time to let out an ear piecing scream, something she always did when startled but in this instance the scream was rendered slightly comic as it was clearly mixed with the last vestiges of her giggling fit. To give him his due, Peter reacted with lightening speed, stamping on the brakes in a split second, the ABS doing its job of pulling up the corolla in an unfeasibly short distance. He wasn’t going very fast either, he had learned on previous visits to WA that speeding was not an option if you wanted to keep your licence and so he had been religiously keeping to 5K under the 90K limit.

Nevertheless, the Kangaroo gave him no chance, it just stood there, its small head framed in the headlights, its eyes betraying not fear but confusion, if only it had given a little hop, it would have hopped out of harms way but instead it just stood there dazzled, or mesmerised by the unexpected bright light. The impact when it came was a bit of an anti climax, especially after Sarah’s scream, Peter had done such a good job of breaking that the animal had merely bounced of the offside front wing and the car had come to a halt without running it over.

For a moment they both sat in silence, weighing up the situation in there different ways, Sarah was over her concern for herself and Peter and was now considering the plight of the poor animal. Peter was trying to remember if he paid the extra for collision waiver insurance. This moment of indecision was short lived; Peter knew that he had to get the car and the Kangaroo off the road if another more serious accident was to be avoided. He deftly moved the gear shift into reverse and manoeuvred the car quickly but carefully onto the hard packed dirt shoulder which lined the highway.

‘Wait here’ it was an order but his tone was full of concern not just authority, Sarah was happy to do as she was told, she did not relish the idea of having to deal with a hurt of dying animal and was happy to leave such work to her husband and protector.

Peter could see straight away by the vacant look in its eyes that the Kangaroo was dead. It was a mid sized specimen but up close it still seemed enormous. As he dragged the carcass to the side of the road Peter could feel his empty stomach contracting and his head spinning as the residual warmth of the creature washed over him, as if he were being bathed in the Kangaroo’s departing soul.

Satisfied he had done his duty, he shuddered and focused on pulling himself together, he knew that Sarah would be rattled badly by what happened and although she would not show it now, there would be a grief reaction in days to come. It was up to him not to make light of the tragedy but by staying calm, somehow to minimise its affect on his sensitive caring wife.

Peter got back in the car trying his best to appear composed and calm; he closed the door gently and waited, knowing that Sarah needed to speak first so that she could feel part of what had happened and not just a spectator to it.

‘Is it’? The question hung in the air like a plea for clemency disguised as an accusation.

‘Yes, but at least it didn’t suffer and with a bit of luck a local restaurateur will be passing by, mind you, I’m so hungry I thought about eating it myself’

Once again Sarah could feel normality returning, she knew Peter was shaken up by what had occurred but he was steadfast in his role as her shield and she loved him for it.

‘What about the car’?

Peter smiled, ‘Luckily it’s a hire car, so every cloud has a silver lining. I really am hungry though what about you’? Distraction, the most effective technique of avoiding difficult issues, he had learned it from Sarah and now he was putting what he had learned to good use.

‘Maybe we should go home, its getting late and I don’t think we are going to find anywhere open’ By home, Sarah was referring to the Surf Shack they had rented on Smith’s beach, well it was called a surf shack but really it had all mod cons including air conditioning and a flat screen TV, but no food.

‘No way, I’ starving and if we go back now neither of us is going to get any sleep, let’s carry on a bit further and if we don’t find anywhere we’ll have to head back’

Sarah considered putting up a fight but she was hungry as well and there was nothing they could do about the Kangaroo.

‘OK then but if we don’t see anywhere in five minutes we go back’

‘Yes mistress, anything you say mistress, your wish is my command’

Peter was pulling out onto the road even as he quipped, gunning the little hatchback and sending up a cloud of unseen red dust into the cooling night air.

Within what seemed like only a couple of klicks, they were surprised to see the lights of a good sized building appear over the horizon. Peter took a deep breath and involuntarily began holding it, as if by refusing to let the breath go, he could somehow hang on to his conviction that this building would be a restaurant and by some effort of his own will it would be brimming with good food and lively people.

Sure enough, the closer they got the more it became obvious that they had somehow hit pay dirt. It was indeed a restaurant and somewhat remarkably, it did seem full of people and it exuded an unexpected aura of sophisticated gaiety which somehow clashed with its rural semi civilised surroundings.

‘It will be full’ Sarah only realized she had spoken her thought when the sound of her own voice jolted her out of her melancholy reverie.

‘That’s right, lets be optimistic’ this time Peter’s humour fell flat, he understood how she felt but sometimes Sarah’s pessimism, no not pessimism, fatalism, grated on his positive nature.

The restaurant was called ‘Salninas’ and it stood on a slight promontory at the corner of Caves road and a small, siding leading to an unknown winery. Peter was a little surprised not to have heard of it, he had read the local guide cover to cover and he would have remembered the name. This slight misgiving was quickly overwhelmed by hunger and by the energy which seemed to be pulsating through the place. Even at a distance it was clear that it was full or near full, plus he could make out a grand piano in the corner with a live pianist, which for these parts, represented professional entertainment.

 

‘I know, it will be full but humour me will you’ Sarah, despite the events of the night was herself captivated by the place and was starting to look forward to a night out, after all that had happened they could both do with a little light relief, she found herself crossing her fingers expectantly.

‘I’ll stay in the car and you ask’ she felt that the less significant they made themselves the better the chance of success, Peter on the other hand was having none of it and anyway he wanted to keep her by his side.

‘No, you’re coming in with me, let’s go’. Sarah was a bit relieved to be going with him, she was still spooked by the Kangaroo and the thought of staying in the car alone sent a shiver down her back.

Peter turned into the entrance and entered the spacious car park. It registered as a little strange that there were only a couple of other cars parked there but then again, there were a couple of other entrances he noticed and no doubt he had missed the main car park. Time was however marching on, so thoughts such as these would have to wait.

The reception area was an eclectic mixture of simplicity and opulence which somehow combined to create an atmosphere of carefully contrived Bonhomie. A yellow wash combined with oranges and subtle creams to give the walls the aura of an old French Relais, there were heavy drapes at the windows whose weight came from the padded lining but whose decorative outer layer consisted of fine chiffons and richly dyed silks. There were several well chosen pieces of furniture dotted around, all seeming to blend perfectly, while a closer look revealed the inconspicuous artwork which adorned the walls and completed the illusion of unforced taste and easy style.

At the counter stood a man wearing a formal uniform of black suit and bow tie, he was a tall man with a full head of hair greying at the temples but jet black otherwise. Peter immediately felt he looked a little bit contrived and wondered if the effect did not owe itself to judicious use of hair dye. Also, he couldn’t hep noticing faint traces of make up on his face, the greasy kind used in stage plays and designed to highlight an actors features under harsh lights.

These observations were made mainly at a subconscious level, consciously; Peter was focused on making a good impression to give them the best chance of securing a table even a t this late hour. The man greeted them with a perfect smile, a smile which revealed a too perfect set of teeth which themselves looked a bit too predatory for comfort. 

‘I know its late, but I was wondering if you had room for two more for dinner tonight’ Peter made sure he kept eye contact while at the same time trying to sound confident but not too demanding.

‘Well sir’ The mans voice was formal but he sounded friendly which was a good start, the only slightly off putting thing was his eyes, he was looking a bit two intently at the couple, as if he were sizing them up for a suit of clothes, the effect was disturbing an a primitive level and caused Peter to shudder involuntarily.

‘As I am sure you can see, we are very busy but you are in luck, we have had a late cancellation from a party of two, so if you are ready I can show you directly to your table.

During these formalities Sarah was hanging back, letting Peter take the lead as usual, as the man behind the counter emerged to take them through to their table, Peter turned towards her and noticed a strange unsettled look in her eyes. He gestured for her to follow him and waited while she caught up, he was again slightly disturbed by the way she clung on to his left arm and placed her body closer to his than she normally would, in public anyway.

The Maitre D because this is the title Peter had bestowed upon their host, emerged from behind the counter and silently led the way out of the reception area. Instead of emerging into the dining room, they entered an inner hallway decorated with the same care and attention to detail as before. Off of this inner hallway there were two open doors and several closed ones. Directly in front of them was the entrance to the main dining room where Peter and Sarah could see the other guests and hear there animated conversation above the background music coming from the grand piano.

However, it was through the doorway to the right of the main dining room that the Maitre’ D beckoned them. Anticipating the objection, the man turned and smiled encouragement.

‘ You are very fortunate, this is our VIP room, very romantic, tonight it was to be the scene of a marriage proposal, usually it is booked months in advance’ His voice trailed off and a wistful look entered his light blue grey eyes. After an overlong pause he continued, his voice sounding rather forced.

‘Please, sit down and relax. Can I get you a pre dinner drink? You hostess will be with you momentarily’

Despite themselves, Peter and Sarah started to relax, Peter ordered a Gin and Tonic and Sarah asked for her usual glass of house red, an indulgence she rarely overlooked or went beyond. When the Maitre D  left the room they looked at one another and smiled as if to say, ‘what a lucky find’. When their waitress arrived with their drinks and a couple of menus, she was a female version of there host, dressed in a traditional formal French uniform, her white hair tied up in a neat bun and secured on her head by diminutive lace coronet.

There was something about the atmosphere of the place that seemed to subdue their natural inhibitions; it was the décor, the music and the setting, all of which combined to create a kind of Bohemian environment in which you could not help feeling slightly elated. Peter started telling stories about his school days, funny stories that Sarah had heard a hundred times before but on this night they were funnier than usual, Peter himself was more engaging and Sarah felt her inhibitions melting away. She felt herself embracing her femininity in a way she rarely did while sober; in spite of herself she started to feel sexy. Things were going well yet there was something not quite right, it was as if despite the apparent perfection of their surroundings there was something hidden, something unsavoury, a presence lurking in the shadows which just occasionally, peeked out to stare at them carnivorously.

As their waitress served a complimentary Hors Derves which she proudly announced as a grapefruit and sangria mousseline with a paprika and pumpkinseed biscuit, Sarah decided it was time to visit the little girl’s room. Peter was used to this timing, Sarah always seemed to disappear in such circumstances, usually it was just as their plane was called for boarding, or the ferry was coming into dock. Occasionally Peter considered the possibility that Sarah did it on purpose as a kind of attention seeking behaviour. Normally she had little or no ego so it was possible that she chose her disappearing moments to distract his attention from compelling outside events and focus them back on her. It was true that he always felt a little nervous when she went off in new places, he had a strong protective instinct and there was always a feeling of anxiety that would build as the minutes went by, only to be relieved when she reappeared, apparently unaware of his concern.

Tonight was no different, as the minutes ticked by, Peter ran out of ways to distract himself, he had reviewed the room in detail, scrutinised the cutlery and the china, noting their quality and fineness with grudging appreciation. When Sarah had still not returned he started shifting in his seat, it was as if there was some kind of external force which had taken over his body, compelling him to get up and go and look for her. Then, just as the urge became unbearable, she reappeared and he felt relief flooding through his mind and body. It all suddenly seemed ridiculous, like some kind of residual insecurity left behind fro his childhood when his mother lost him in the supermarket. He smiled at Sarah and lent forward as she sat down and squeezed her hand.

For some reason though she did not return either the squeeze or the smile, this was strange, Sarah always reciprocated in such circumstances unless something was wrong.

‘What’s wrong’? He demanded, ‘You were gone ages’ 

Despite the exasperated tone of voice, he was genuinely concerned and had she told him what was bothering her he would have taken it seriously but unfortunately for both of them she did not. Her sweet nature that thought ill of no-one, could not process the information fast enough. If he had asked her the same question the next day she would have been able to explain her misgivings, but for the moment she could not, for the moment she would suppress her intuition and pretend that everything was normal when deep down she knew it was far from normal, very far indeed.

‘Nothing is wrong’ She forced a smile but he could see through it, ‘everything is fine, everything is lovely, I’m having a lovely time’. She repeated these last words like a mantra, a positive affirmation and it seemed to work because her smile became real and warm and Peter was semi satisfied, at least for the moment, although he made a mental note to probe further in the morning though. Then as if to confirm her decision to deny the obvious qualms she was experiencing, Sarah reached for the delicate glass of frothy liquid placed in front of her.

‘Cheers carnation madam’ she giggled at the words that echoed from her childhood, even now she had no idea what they meant.

Peter hesitated for a moment, checking his wife’s eyes one more time for warning signs. Seeing none he too raised his glass.

‘Cheers’ he repeated as they sipped the concoction suspiciously.

Their fears about the taste were unfounded, it was truly delicious, unlike anything either of them had ever tasted. Somehow the chef had managed to conjure up a complex blend of flavours that were at the same time refreshing and comforting, savoury and sweet with a hint of something else, something hidden, purposeful.

The nagging concern in Sarah’s eyes reappeared, she put down the glass half empty and wiped her mouth, she looked intently at her husband as if she wanted to say something but was unable to put her thoughts into words.

‘What’s the matter Sarah, I know something is up just tell me what it is’ Peter had also placed his glass in front of him unfinished and his voice betrayed the growing exasperation he was feeling, somehow this evening was going off the rails, he didn’t know why but he could feel it churning around inside of him.

Finally Sarah seemed to find her voice. ‘It’s just that’ another pause, ‘it’s just that when I went to the toilet, I looked into the dining room and it’s the other guests’ again she seemed lost for words.

‘Yes, the other guests, what about them’ Peters exasperation was growing, as was the strange feeling in his stomach which had now reached his forehead causing it to throb rhythmically, muddying his thoughts and making his head spin.

Sarah to seemed to be struggling to keep focused, her eyes were starting to wander slightly and for a moment she seemed to forget what she wanted to say. Then as if by some kind of superhuman effort of will she managed to steady herself and her voice became clear and decisive.

‘The other guests Peter, they are not real’ 

‘What do you mean they aren’t real?’ Peter could hear the slur in his voice now.

‘They aren’t real Peter, they are just dummy’s’

 

Suddenly all the vague feelings of disquiet, the seen but un-deciphered anomalies began to make sense. This place was wrong, these people were very wrong, Peter was now sure that somehow they had wandered unguarded into a nightmare. Out of the corner of his blurring vision Peter could see their host and hostess had entered the room and were standing side by side, looking expectantly at their guests, smiling the smiles of the clown you never wanted to meet, the one who inhabited the darkest recesses of your mind.

The room was spinning in front of Peters Eyes, he tried to focus on Sarah, to cry out, warn her but it was too late, as he lost consciousness, his last thought was ‘they aren’t the only ones who are dummies’ and then there was only blackness.

Ending One

Alternative ending

When he awoke Peter felt like a lead weight was pressing down on him. His first thought was that he had eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him and in this he was at least partly right. His second thought though was not even a bit right because he was not lying in his bed back at the Surf Shack; he was not lying down at all. As his eyes started to focus and the fog in his brain started to clear, Peter realised he was sitting upright staring across at his beautiful serene wife. Except it was her but it wasn’t her at the same time. The familiar features were carefully posed, tinted with unfamiliar rouge, she wore a smile that was too vivacious, too thrilled to be real and in her right hand she held a full glass of champagne, a drink that Sarah would never choose for herself.

The sight of Sarah momentarily distracted him from his own situation which now gradually stole back his attention. He was completely paralyzed; the only parts of his body that he could move were his eyelids and his chest which had begun heaving up and down alarmingly as his respiration first reached normal and quickly accelerated into hyperventilation. Peter could feel the restriction growing in his chest with every breath, the pain came through so sharply it felt like he imagined a heart attack would feel, life threatening. Every sinew in his body was straining at over 100% trying desperately to break free of whatever prison he found himself in. The more he strained, the harder he tried to breath, the worse the pain became, he was experiencing a panic attack, a primitive fight or flight reaction brought on by a terror that threatened to send him back into unconsciousness.

Then, just as he felt that his heart must explode, the adrenalin surge began to subside and the rational part of his mind started to reassert itself. He had come right to the brink of insanity, the point past which there can be no return and he had pulled back at the last moment. Panic he realised was not going to get him out of the situation in which he found himself, what’s more it was not going to help save Sarah who he realized must be in the same situation as he was. With an effort of will he settled his breathing, he remembered a passage in the yoga book he had browsed through in Dunsborough, that said the secret of controlling your mind and body was all in the breathing.

Deep breath in, count five, long breath out, count five, repeat, extending the count to ten, five more breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

Peter could feel his heart rate slowing down and his senses becoming more acute again. He could smell the delicious aromas of freshly cooked food, he could hear the laughter and chatter of people having fun and he could make out every feature on his wife’s face. Except it was not really her face, just a brilliant facsimile. He would have believed that what he was looking at was a waxwork from Madam Tussauds except for one minor detail, the eyes, they were moving, flickering left and right until they met his and held steady.

Instead of panic, or pleading, what he saw in those eyes was reassurance and calm, a kind of compassion and acceptance, a true kind of faith that soundlessly said ‘I love you, I trust you, don’t worry about me I am OK’ At this moment Peter realised that his wife was the real deal, nothing like those bible bashing hypocrites who spoke of love thy neighbour and pursued lives of bigotry and hate, Sarah’s face was genuine and transcendent, it shielded and protected her from anything the world could serve up no matter how evil and now it was radiating out of her towards him, trying to protect him to.

Focus, he had to focus, Sarah may be in this world but not of it but he could not be like that, it wasn’t in him. He needed to be more practical, he needed to think things through, there was a way out of this, they were still alive and there had to be a way out, he just needed to find the exit. Again his mind returned to Dunsborough, to the yoga café and to the book he had chosen to read, if only he had read it more carefully; he was sure the answer lay somewhere in its pages but he couldn’t pin it down, it remained just beyond his grasp.

Deep breath, count of ten, exhale, count of ten, repeat, again and again Peter went through the exercise until gradually he drifted into a dream like state between sleep and wakefulness, a place he had only ever been before for a few fleeting moments but where now he found himself floating, free of physical limitations, free even of the bonds of time and space. It was as if he had reached a place where he had become a concerned but dispassionate bystander, able to weigh things up without emotion or fear.

They had been taken prisoner that at least was clear. It was also clear that whatever they were encased within was far stronger than wax. In his heightened state of consciousness, Peter could detect the faint smell of resin, a smell he was familiar with from his model making days. He concluded that they were in some kind of cold cast, probably made in pieces from of a plastic composite and held together by the kind of glue they used to hold the wings on aeroplanes. If this were true then the cast would be strong, too strong, Yet there was something, there was something in the book, if only he could remember then maybe there was still a chance, still some hope, if only he could remember. 

‘San Kalpa’, the phrase echoed in his mind and seemed to open a hidden doorway.

Gradually, like parts of a metaphysical jigsaw puzzle pieces of the idea started to take shape in his mind. Finally the answer came, not from one source but from many, an idea so powerful that it had inserted itself into all religious and secular philosophies, an idea with the power to save them, if only he could reach out and use it.

In Yoga the idea of ‘San Kalpa’ took the form of a repetitive mantra of positive intentions, in transcendental meditation, it manifested itself through group meditation. In the world of business it was called positive mental thinking and of course in religious terms it was called prayer.  Peter remembered something else, ‘Life’s strangest secret is that you become what you think about the most’.  Peter saw the connectivity of all these ideas and in seeing them, found freedom. He found himself leaving his body, looking down at the tomb’s which encased him and his wife, looking at the other two macabre figures of their erstwhile hosts.

‘All perfect now mother what would you say’?

‘Oh yes father, perfect, absolutely perfect’

He saw them turn to one another and smile and turn back towards where he and Sarah were sitting at their table. They smiled and slowly their hands reached out towards one another, entwining in a way that made them look like two innocent school children rapt with excitement. 

Peter was able to observe this scene with a serene detachment he would have believed impossible just a few hours ago but for all his new found control, merely observing was not going to free him or rescue Sarah, there had to more he could do. So he began directing his inner eye towards his prison, he reached out within his own body and allowed himself to interact with every nerve, every sensory receptor on an individual basis. Slowly he traced a path over the surface of the mould into which he had been cast, savouring its surface against his skin, testing its integrity with the tense of a muscle, searching, ever searching for a weakness no matter how small. After one attempt he could find no weakness so he tried again, and again, so many times he tried that he lost count until, as if by the power of his own will he found it. At first he was not sure it was anything, the merest anomaly, a distortion within an otherwise perfectly smooth landscape. He moved in closer, focusing all his thought on this tiny space, closer as if his mind were an electron microscope able to reveal the truth of what it saw at the molecular level.

There was a weakness after all. Under his right arm there was a fusion point where three separate pieces  of the cast were fused together and it was at this point that the structural integrity of the whole was compromised.

Peter withdrew, he became like the ocean tide, his physical strength withdrawing from all parts of his body, sucked away by the gravitational pull not of the moon but of something else just as powerful. All his power coiled itself up into an infinitely small corner of his mind, pulsating and heaving, threatening to turn to chaos and wreak undiscerning destruction. Peter held on, he repeated the words ‘I am free’ over and over again, turning them into fire brands, glowing coals of desire into which he poured the power of his body, its whole power, concentrated and contained by the greater power of his own will and aimed at that one small anomaly, that one area of weakness.

The act of release was like an explosion of bright light in the very centre of his soul. The crack when it came was like the loudest thunderclap he had ever heard multiplied by a thousand and yet to a bystander it would probably have gone undetected. Peter came out of the trance like state and allowed his body to return to normal. His heart rate increased, his body temperature rose and his muscles regained their normal functioning. 

His first waking thought was to ask himself whether what he just experienced had been real or a desperate dream? The answer came through clear and bright, he was already free, he had always been free, it was only his inability to understand that had kept him trapped for so long. He flexed his right arm but this time there was no holding back, this time there was no questioning or doubt, this time the mould broke before he even moved his arm, broken by the unstoppable power of his intention.