A Short Story About Astral Projection.
Travis lived across the street from me and was everything I wasn’t: tall, handsome and popular. I wanted to be him so badly it hurt.
I got my chance one afternoon in English class.
One minute I was sitting behind him, staring at the back of his head and wishing I could burrow inside it like a tick. Then I blinked, and I was in a different seat.
I could feel limbs touching the desk but couldn’t lift them. Lungs expanded and contracted as someone else sighed. Boredom that wasn’t my own echoed around my mind.
Mr Kibblewhite called my name, and my head turned by itself. I saw my own body sitting behind me, chin on hand, a dazed expression on its face. Its head slipped and banged on the desk so hard it fell out of its chair. There was a feeling like a rubber band being snapped into the base of my skull, and suddenly I was staring up from the floor.
There were sniggers as I got up, but I barely heard them. All I could think about was trying again.
***
With practice, I could stretch my rubber band further and further. By Sunday I could reach Travis’ bedroom. From behind his eyes, I sensed his elation as he popped skulls in Fortnite; felt his muscles burn as he ran a 10-minute mile; shared his pride as he flexed in front of the mirror. It was the greatest Twitch stream of all time, and I was the only one with an invite code.
The next week of school was unbearable. I watched the days crawl by, trapped inside my own head. As soon as I got home, I’d lock my bedroom door and let my mind wander across the street. I peeked over Travis’ shoulder as he struggled with algebra, wishing I could write the answers for him. I felt him get hard as he stared at the photos Heather Sawyer sent him. Even his orgasms felt better than mine.
His phone pinged in the dark.
can’t wait to go camping on Saturday 😉
***
My parents were pissed when I told them I wouldn’t be coming to see Grandma with them that weekend. I had to shove them out the door as I saw Travis throwing a tent into the back of his car. I dove onto the sofa and flew from my body, desperately pushing to keep up. For a moment I thought that he’d gone too far, but just when I thought the rubber band might snap, he stopped at a red light. I fell into his brain as he smiled and turned up the radio.
That was the greatest day of my life. We lay in the tall grass with Heather, feeling the sun beating down, and dove into the water to cool off. We made out with Heather in the glow of a campfire, and after a few beers and a joint, we finally slept with her. It was my first time, but Travis seemed to know what he was doing.
Afterwards, lying in the dark of the tent, I felt Travis’ hand resting on Heather’s back and thought a single command, as hard as I could:
Wiggle your fingers.
***
The next night, Travis’ mother made lasagne for dinner.
“The couple across the street had to take their son to the hospital,” she said. “They think he fell into a coma, the poor boy. Don’t you go to school with him?”
Travis shrugged. “I guess. Don’t really know him.” As he brought a forkful of pasta to his mouth, his hand wobbled briefly.
“Glad you’re enjoying that,” said his mother.
The lasagne was delicious.
But Travis wasn’t the one smiling.
THE END
Last month, this story was longlisted in a flash fiction competition hosted by New2theScene. I really enjoyed writing it, so I decided to share it here. Hopefully you enjoyed it too.
Phil W. Bayles 
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