Ky-Thel of Mist

Kyle Theleon Misteron was his full name, but his good friends called him Ky (as in sky).

A week ago, his East Indian girlfriend Gandhara had signed them both up to do a ‘Future Life Progression’ at the Center For The Alchemical Arts.

Needless to say, Kyle wasn’t exactly excited. He’d attended spiritualist meetings of this nature in the past and they were typically filled with supermundane mumbo jumbo spoken by hackneyed Western gurus. Things would inevitably end in the purchase of books or expensive treatments such as chakra realignment therapy performed with the rarest of crystals.

Still, he wanted to keep Gandhara happy. She was such a sweetheart when he complied with her every demand, but could as easily become a mean spirited diva if he didn’t comply.

At least she was driving them out of town for that daylong seminar. It was being held at a rural estate dubbed Valinor Manor. This drive from their home in the suburbs ended up taking over two hours but at least the route along those backroads was quite scenic; full of bucolic pastures.

The estate itself was nothing short of regal. Half a dozen peacocks strutted on the lengthy lawn in the late August sun. Well kept topiaries were spaced out evenly throughout the extensive grounds surrounding the palatial mansion.

“How do you know these people?” Kyle queried.

“My family bankrolls the Swami whom we’ll both be meeting today. Please be on your best behaviour,” Gandhara gave fair warning.

“Message received,” Kyle acknowledged as they passed an inner gateway and circled a roundabout to the front entrance. 

When they exited their vehicle a valet took the car keys and a butler led them in through the wide open wooden portal.

In the lobby, various patrons were already paying their respects to Swami Satya-Avatara. Yet he seemed a humble man with few frills about him save for three lines of ash across his forehead. His white beard complemented his shiny bald head. He wore only a saffron robe and leather sandals.

After these customary niceties, the entire assembly was taken into a spacious conference room containing a long rectangular table. Everyone took a seat on one of the sixty or so chairs around the table’s perimeter. Of course Swami Satya-Avatara sat at the head of said table then commenced his discourse:

"The concept of reincarnation is very well known by now, but were you aware that there exists a meditation technique which can give you a glimpse of the next life based on your current karma?"

There was a chorus of hushed awe. The Swami stayed on topic:

"I am going to guide you all through this meditation now. Please close your eyes and take a deep breath…"

Satya-Avatara continued by telling them to envision an ascending staircase winding up into another temporal dimension. Kyle put his misgivings aside and followed along with this induced hypnosis. It wasn’t long before he lost track of the Swami’s reassuring voice. Suddenly he found himself in a whole new world…

Kyle was in what appeared to be a bookstore or library where a large crowd had come together to discuss some new releases. He wasn’t able to interact with anybody but he could easily shift among those people as a bodiless observer and take stock of the books they were holding. He instantly recognized their titles; these were books which he himself had either already written or was presently planning to write.

The bookworms gathered there overflowed with high praise:

“Obviously I’ve read the entire Stellar Bridge Decalogy by Ky-Thel of Mist, starting with book one and going all the way to tome ten."

"Yes. It's truly excellent. I'd go so far as to say that Space-Z wouldn’t even exist today if it hadn't been for Ky-Thel’s revolutionary ideas regarding disembodied space travel.”

“Quite true. Although that’s a little too mainstream for my personal liking. I prefer Ky-Thel of Mist’s Post-Poetry period. Namely the Red Squirrel Diaries. They're très très sh-way!”

Kyle couldn’t believe it. It was evident from their chichi conversations that they'd been reading his work all WRONG. For example, his Decalogy was meant to be read out of sequence. They’d clearly overlooked the rhizome theorem which he’d spent day and night pouring onto the pages.

And what the hell were the Red Squirrel Diaries? He couldn’t imagine for a single solitary moment why he would ever write such a trite sounding piece of literary schmutz.

Last but not least, who was this Ky-Thel of Mist they kept referring to? It sounded like they’d merely truncated his magnificent moniker (Kyle Theleon Misteron) down to its basest phonetic units. This certainly wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered. In fact Kyle became so distressed and disgruntled by what he was experiencing that he then inadvertently JOLTED back to his physical body — and fell backwards off his chair!

The resulting noise inevitably brought everybody else in the room back from their own Future Life Progressions. There was a little alarm at first, but it quickly gave way to an uproar of laughter. Kyle couldn’t help feeling embarrassed, though he rapidly regained his composure.

A prolix Q & A session ensued, in which many people shared parts of their FLP with Swami Satya-Avatara. Kyle was reluctant to participate in this discussion and sensing this, Gandhara respectfully bowed out with him in tow.

During the drive back Kyle was uncharacteristically quiet. Gandhara nudged him:

“Ky, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright luv. Just didn’t like what I saw in my future too much.”

“So I gathered. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d really rather not. I’m still processing it to be honest.”

“No problem dear. Take your time.”

The remainder of the journey was silent.

That night however, Kyle waited for Gandhara to go to sleep then he rifled furiously through his storage space and collected every last one of his old manuscripts. He took them out to the backyard and put them into the fire pit, dousing them with lighter fluid. He flicked his Zippo and sparked that paper kindling. The bonfire flared for a good hour or more.

Thus, our protagonist ensured that Ky-Thel of Mist would never become a household name.

The End.