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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