What are Astral
Corpses?
I’m
Jyvur Entropy and I wrote the horror novel ‘Combustion’ and now I’m writing
guest blog posts in the hopes that I shall entice people to read it!
A
lot of paranormal concepts are touched on in ‘Combustion’ but the plot really
only allowed time for a deep dive on one (Spontaneous Human Combustion-if you
couldn’t tell by the title). One very creepy concept that I would have loved to
explore further is the idea of astral corpses.
As
the book leads into the third act, Helene, Tierney, and Rachel stop at a
bookstore, where Tierney and Helene ask the owner of the shop for some advice
on using a Ouija board. During this conversation, astral corpses are mentioned.
Astral
corpses are described to be the remains of a deceased person, only on the
astral level. When a person dies, their astral self dies as well. This corpse
can still move about the astral plane and still interact to a degree. It’s
basically like an astral version of a zombie. It retains the person’s likeness
and some of their memories, but it isn’t the true version of the deceased
individual.
It
is believed that when a Ouija board only spells out nonsense, it could be a
communication with an astral corpse. They are semi-conscious, yet they don’t
really “think” in the same way that a truly sentient being does.
These
corpses float about the astral plane until they are fully disintegrated. The
Ouija blog ‘Museum of Talking Boards’ mentions astral
corpses and shells on their FAQ page.
(Also, I
used that blog as a resource a great deal while writing ‘Combustion.’ I highly
recommend it to anyone interested in learning more about paranormal ideas).
There’s
something so eerily disturbing about the idea of a semi-animated, but zombified
and derpy version of ourselves floating around in spirit form after we die. Add
to that the image of slow decomposition of a semi-aware entity and
just….*shivers* I’m about to creep myself right the heck out just thinking
about it.
It adds a
whole layer of gruesome to the already chilling idea of doppelgangers.
But when it
comes to using the Ouija board, astral corpses are one of the most innocuous
entities you might come across.
I like exploring
ideas of the paranormal for horror novels, but truth be told, I’m not much of a
believer in all of that. It’s creepy stuff that freaks me out, and if it freaks
me out, I figure maybe it freaks readers out.
Here’s the
thing though: I’m still not gonna risk it.
Malicious
spirits right on the other side of a piece of mass-produced cardboard is not
something I want to find out I’m wrong about.
I’ll remain
skeptical and unplagued by astral corpses, thanks.
Excerpt One
The flame birthed itself
at the end of the match. It danced, red and orange, against the backdrop of the
still night. Rachel opened her mouth as wide as she could, until the corners of
her lips were stretched as far as they would go. She made sure that her mouth
was a wide, round circle. Just like the man on fire. Probably just like Mary
Reeser had done. She was going to spontaneously combust. She would do it now.
And she could stop
waiting for it to happen. She was never going to have to be afraid of it
happening again. It was all about to be over. Rachel watched the flame slide
down lower, burning away at the wood of the match. It was going to reach her
hand soon, so she had to do this fast. Spontaneous Human Combustion started inside the body.
Rachel understood why the
man on fire had his mouth wide open.
There wasn't any time
left.
Rachel took the match and
placed it into her open mouth.
Excerpt Two
Strange images filled her mind. Rachel was not producing them.
They were simply appearing there, placed there by something else. Delivered
from outer space.
Faces. Flames. A
centipede ripping apart. She saw it writhing, as it spontaneously split down
its center. It was filled with eggs. Millions of centipede eggs. And then
Rachel felt sure that she was filled
with centipede eggs, and her belly burned and a crazed itching feeling danced
over her, and with that, Rachel was finally able to rip her eyelids apart.
The sight of the darkened
room met her. And in that darkness, a
creature.
Somehow her eye was able
to widen, as she realized the sight before her, but she could not close it. She
also could not move. She could not scream. She willed her mouth to open and
couldn't. Her vocal cords did respond weakly, and with a mouth shut tight, she
heard the broken squeaks creaking from her throat.
Her body frozen in place,
imprisoned in a cage of her own muscles and bone, she stared up at him
helplessly. The man on fire at the foot
of her bed.
She had to scream and
wake her sleeping friend. She had to cry out for her grandmother to come. But
no matter how she thrashed about internally, her body remained paralyzed. All she could do was look up at the man
engulfed in flames.
His mouth opened. A slit appeared
in the smoke and crisping redness of burning flesh. And his mouth froze in a
wide circle of suffering.
Fear rippled through her
body. Rachel fought to move and felt the same resistance that she felt whenever
she tried to run in a nightmare where she was being chased. She felt the same
tugging on her body, the same alteration of physics.
It opened its mouth then,
as if it were going to speak.
Her
brain burned. It melted. It scorched. Terror seized her, and it was so strong
she was unsure how her body could contain it. It felt too large, too strong to
be held within her. She knew that the man on fire was going to speak and she
had no idea what she’d do when he did.
But it was then that the
episode ended, and finally, miraculously, her fingers twitched and her body
jerked upright. The moment her body moved, the man vanished, taking all of his
flames and fright with him.
She was left staring at
the shadowy scene of an empty room.
Rachel ripped the covers
over her head and lay on her side with a thumping heart, pressing her body
frantically into the body of her sleeping friend.
She tried to tell herself
that it had only been a dream. She repeated it in her mind again and again.
It wasn’t real. I’m not going to spontaneously combust. I am NOT going
to spontaneously combust.
But she couldn’t believe it. Because the man on fire had opened
his mouth to speak, and she could sense the words he’d been about to say. He’d
been about to tell her that her time was limited, that if she didn’t figure out
how she spontaneously combusted the first time, it was sure to happen again.
She moaned into her
pillow, imagining what his awful voice would sound like.
You burned once. You’ll burn again.
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