Perspectives about how life works and occurs for humans and animals and living cells are different for all humans. Every person has a different concept of their belief system unless that dogma as been hammered into a soul over time, and presently governs that person. For example phrases in conversation like “Praise the Lord!” Or “Bless you,” and “I’ll pray for you,” are judged by the circle of the congregation of “Believers.” Also, the New Age Yoga word, “Namaste,” follows another type of believer who feels their need to express their beliefs and so that word, too, becomes a word meant for dogmatic control and protection from an offensive adversity.
The point I am making is this: We become so easily swayed/manipulated because we desire and want rulership and/or governorship by a “King,” or a dogmatic belief that says we are accepted, loved and fit into the large scope of the kingdom of people.
Is it possible to think outside these rules that govern the above and ask questions? Is it possible that we are driven to the place of DOGMA for a reason?
Is it possible, now ask yourself “possible” that we are controlled by ideas, rules, thoughts, sayings, words, phrases, magnetic energies of one, that govern us in such away. It is from somewhere else our designated and herded lives and circumstances assigns to our lives rewards with wealth or poverty. We accept this as truth and do not cross over the lines drawn in the invisible sands in less we are atheist and believe that only we ourselves control the universe or our surroundings.
We are afraid to ask this force or question the intentions of familiarity to a religion or political group or any ideology because of the fear of going to hell or dying a horrific death or being cast out of a society.
I write this above because my story of events are based on the above dogmatic beliefs, fears and control. I want you to know that I serve a loving God who is supportive of me personally and is happy when I go beyond the lines drawn in invisible vague old rotten shells and sands.
My next story will be about my childhood experiences with my father, a mechanical engineer, who designed missiles, rockets, ammunition, and had encounters of the third and fourth kind in the late 1950’s, 60, and 70’s. From his experiences came mine. Perhaps this is the reason I am able to photograph odd flying images. Or UFOs 🛸
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
Within 150,000 words weaves a story involving an edgy woman who is either psychotic or is as the townsfolk believe eldritch. They, in Glory Town, a charming picture-perfect town, nestled in The Appalachians, call her a witch. For Cat Dubois, decades passed and she becomes more isolated from her accusers. Jealousy and scorn for a child who was fey with sapience, the community of pretentious righteous, mocked her. The quaint town was not so “charming” after all and quickly ran sinners away. While alone for years, Cat began to see and hear voices. Visitors seldom came; however, her lonesome manor was haunted. However, little Cat prayed a prayer when only a child. That prayer was answered when she turned forty-five. An angel or fairy godmother named Eleanor came riding on the wind. Traveling with Eleanor was Tadhg, who was of the same order and virtue, and a little black dog named, Lovey.
“A scream was heard that summer day. A four-year-old little Catherine moaned into the mystical wind. She told the wind to find Thomas. Bellowing, into the breeze, her little heart begged, with vigorous might. The current carried her voice. It never ceased, until one day, “I heard it,” and that was when, Eleanor came riding in on the wind.”
The model in the photo is my daughter, the photographer was my son, and the digital artist is my dear friend Ky Mason. The picture has a copyright so I ask you, please don’t use it as it might be the cover of my novel … Thank you… All Rights Reserved
Ky Ellen Mason artist/editor/graphics designer/publishing/printing
It is with great pleasure that I introduce you to a fellow poetess who is also a psychiatric nurse, like myself.
It is because the mind of a mental health nurse sees the world, reported by others, from a down to earth approach and also from a surreal sublime often bizarre experience, that I’m thrilled with Jo Dowling’s poetry. In a way, because we are so down to earth, we are also somewhat of skeptics, realists and also expect the weird from the world, at the same time.
We may write about “fairies” and fables, but under that fantasy is dirt truth… You must read between the lines that often have allegories, metaphors, parables and messages hidden in the gray areas of life, and from that we express the unexplainable in poetry.
If you live and move in these areas, then you too, understand the minds of psychiatric nurses… We are the eyes of doctors and therapists. We watch and never have to listen because we see and understand the unspoken language of the human spirit.
We are the Watchers, not exactly the listeners of words, because body language speaks louder volumes than spoken conversations, and psychiatric nurses see and realize the unspoken and that is why I love Jo’s poetry. She sees the reflections of the dark side of life and explains some secrets found inside closets and under beds in her poetry. The child that hurts, the person that still experiences the “boogyman” syndrome, Jo understands.
It is the human psyche and the sixth dimension that her poetry reflects. The empathetic observer that she is, who feels and deeply understands fears, horrors, paranoias and the sadness’ of many who experience mental illness or just simple fears and depression. Jo writes from their persona or perhaps she writes from her own experiences.
I love your poetry Jo. I understand and I relate to well. I know those demons thwarting our living day to day … So often those tormentors get away with robbing innocent victims.
I appreciate your poetry because you are truthful about what you’ve witnessed, and you have come to tell others, to alert them, and to touch them in away, through your poetry. Those whom read your lines, verse and choices of words, know that you do understand because you hit the demon on the head (just an expression) and expose those dark forces, so well.
Jo’s poetry is heartfelt spiritualality, but is not pie in the sky fairies and pixies, but it is about real life forces that have wounded many, and affect many daily;
So, thank you Jo.
Here is one of many of Jo’s poems.
Childhood was spent in China, Korea, and Baghdad. Attended college at the University of Arkansas, Henderson State University, and Texarkana College, obtaining a degree in Nursing. Became Specialized and Certified in Psychiatry and worked as a Registered Nurse at Baptist Health and Pinnacle Pointe Hospital in Little Rock, Arkansas. Served in the United States Marine Corps, Intelligence Division. Retired early and returned to hometown of Foreman, Arkansas to write full time.
Sometimes we turn from the fire so quickly we stumble and fall in the flames and are burned And sometimes we medicate painful mistakes with elixers of poison or promises made We watch as the children grow taller and stronger and cover our eyes when they break down the door We are of thunder and rainbows, and cyclones, and northeastern winds without warning or form We are of time and celestial planets, and volatile poisons and critical mass We explain meaning without understanding- our senses perceive only what we believe Humanity, fling back the sheet from the mirror– Focus your sight and define what you see Quiet your mind and acknowledge your senses Cry for humanity, tend to the bleed
Gold turns to blackness like fossil rock veins- meanings ingrained and embedded
Sadness strikes suddenly, point piercing through, wickedly splitting existance in two
Shaking from force of the violent blow- the meaning burns inward and down to the bone
The sound lasts for only one second of time, but the echo will last for an entire life
Biddable river shines bright in the Autumn
Dance with me under the river rock cliffs
Voluptuous evergreen lips kiss the sky
Come to the river
Swim through your mind
Grape vines entwine, hiding footprints behind us
Time cannot find this oasis
Tedious urgency does not exist
Prisms refract where the river falls spray
Wade in the wonder
Bathe and create
You can find Jo Dowling on FB. She has several poetry groups and you might want to follow her and learn more about the dark side of our mind….
I live there at times and relate to the closets hidden from the world of facade and often irreverent.
I ask God’s angels to help me… Thank you angels, in advance…
Knowing some of their names and specialties is beneficial.
Ariel – “lion of God;” angel of protection, please help me from those who seek to injure, purger, pursuit me of raise the laws, injury, perjury or death towards me. Please, be with me. Thank you
Asteraoth – name of an angel who thwarts power., I ask you to stop any powers who are against me, in Yeshua’s name, Thank you
Ayil – angel of the zodiac sign Sagittarius, who is the leader of my rising sign. You who were in the East, guide me in perceptions and honesty. Yes, there is an angel over the zodiac signs…
Azbogah – name of the high ranking angel of judgment., cause all judgements against me to cease. In Jesus name, thank you.
Azriel – name for the angel of destruction, please remove any self destruction or any destruction from others, in Jesus name. Thank you.
Balthioul – angel with the power to thwart distress, cause any anxieties or worries I hold to leave in Jesus name. Thank you
Barakiel, please open my heart to good blessings. Take away my fears of being blessed or any lack of self worth that stymies my heaven presents. Thank you in Jesus name.
Barrattiel – angel of support, please come to hold me up. Thank you, in Jesus name.
Barbiel – angel of October, and my birth guide me. Thank you, in Jesus name.
Barman – angel of intelligence, please lend me more, than I can contain. Make me more quick-witted, than any enemy. Also, please help me with any forgetfulness. Thank you, in Jesus name
Baruchiel – angel with power over strife, give me power over problems. Thank you, in Jesus name
Bath Kol – female angel of divine prophecy. Pour upon me, your gift, that I might know of futures. In Jesus name
Briathos – name of an angel who thwarts demons, stop all demons assigned against me. In Jesus name. Thank you
Camael – angel name that means “he who sees God;” chief angel of powers, help me to see with divine eyes. Thank you in Jesus name
Cassie – angel of Saturn, help me to send Saturn away from me and towards my enemies. Many thanks in Jesus name. (Saturn is the planet of hard lessons)
Cerviel – angel ruler of the principalities, take down those in high places over me… Make them fail and fall in Jesus name. Thank you.
Chayyliel – angel whose name means “army;” a powerful angel, please stand in for me and be my army against those who seek to harm me. In Jesus name. Thank you.
Diniel – angel who protects infants, protect the children in question. In Jesus name, Thank you
Duma – angel prince of dreams, send me good dreams. Thank you, in Jesus name
Dumah – angel of silence. Quiet the enemy in Jesus name. Thank you
Eae – angel who thwarts demons., stop her demons and mine in Jesus name. Thank you.
Elyon – ministering angel who brought the plague of hail upon Egypt, please take away the attacks on me. In Jesus name.
Emmanuel – angel whose name means “God with us.” Thank you for being with me.
Gabriel – archangel whose name means “man or hero of God.” Please make me this in Jesus name. Thank you.
Gadiel Please release me from all my negative energy and thoughts that prevent my blessings. Release me from conscious or unconscious blocks to blessings. Show me the way. Thank you in Jesus name.
Gamaliel you are the greatest giver. You love to give miracles. Please look at me and see that I’m worthy to be honored with your miracles. Please and thank you in Jesus name
Gzrel – angel who revokes any evil decree against another in heaven, please revoke any weapons formed against us. Thank you, in Jesus name.
Hamaliel – angel who rules the order of virtues, please help me and others… In Jesus name. Thank you
Harahel – angel who oversees libraries., please confuse my enemies, with records kept. Thank you in Jesus name (Remember in The Psalms, David asks this)
Hasdiel – angel of benevolance., I ask for kindness in the name of Jesus. Thank you
Heman – angel leader of the heavenly choir, whose name means “trust.” Please give me trust and faith in Jesus name. Thank you
Hermesiel – angel who leads one of the heavenly choirs, help me/us to sing again. Thank you, in Jesus name
Hofniel – ruling angel of the bene elohim; name means “fighter of God.” Please war on my behalf. Thank you, in Jesus name
Iofiel – archangel whose name means “beauty of God.” Please send to me your supernatural beauty in Jesus name, thank you
Jehudiel – archangel who rules the movements of the celestial spheres. Please move for me, on my behalf. Thank you in jesus name
Jeremiel – archangel whose name means “mercy of God.” Please in Jesus name, Thank you, We need grace and mercy
Kabshiel – angel of grace and favor…. Thank you in Jesus name
Miniel – angel invoked to induce love. Thank you, in Jesus name
Nathanael – angel ruling over hidden things, fire and vengeance., please in Jesus name, We need your help. Thank you
Pathiel please open my/our gates of manifestation. My wish list is: ***** for any prosperity. Thank you, in Jesus name (yes, prosperity is a good thing)
Pesagniyah – angel who ushers prayers of grief to heaven. I am sad about …. list your sadness and griefs. Please, help me/us. Thank you, in Jesus name
Purah – angel of forgetfulness. Bring clarity to my mind. In Jesus name. Thank you
Razed with the wisdom of the universe, please fill me with the wisdom that I need to prosper abundantly. Thank you, in Jesus name.
Sarakiel – angel who rules the ministering angels. Send your angels to comfort me. Thank you, in Jesus name
Sophia – angel whose name means “wisdom.” Please Sophia come. In Jesus name and thank you
Umabel – angel of physics and astronomy. Please give me insight. Thank you in Jesus name
Yehudiah, thebenevolent angel of death. Please be kind at my death and the deaths of all my love ones. Thank you in Jesus name
Yerachmiel – an archangel who rules earth. Show me where to gain prosperity honestly through ?… Be specific to your hearts desire… Thank you in Jesus name
Zachariel – angel governor of Jupiter. Oh please abundantly bless me/us financially, in health, in creativity, in ideas, joy, singing, writing, drawing and in family. Thank you, in Jesus name… Thank you Jupiter represents abundance and joy, and blessings of great overflowing.
Zaphkiel – archangel whose name means “knowledge of God.” Please bless me/us greatly in Jesus name. Thank you
Zazriel – angel whose name means “strength of God.” Please grant me strength. Thank you, in jesus name.
Zehanpuryu – high ranking angel whose name means “one who sets free.” Please set me free from the bondage of ? Please direct me to ? In Jesus name, thank you
Zophiel – angel whose name means “God’s spy.” Please go before me and give me the scoop/intuition… Thank you, in Jesus name…
Zuriel – angel ruler of the principalities whose name means “my rock is God.”
Be my rear guard, and surround me at all times and my family. In Jesus name. Thank you…
And, these are just a few names and ranks of angels…
*This story is purely fictional and the similarity of human stories is merely created, well, perhaps some is real and the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent. The picture of Jeffrey Dahmer is from public domain and is nonfictional picture though this is not a story connected to him.
The story begins.
She sat reflecting on a cozy warm couch about the woman murdered, terribly mutilated by a man that she met on a dating site. She thought of her own experiences, of course she wasn’t cut into pieces and nor was her body thrown in different trash bins and she had no children, like the young woman who’s story was all over the news. But, at the same time, if one seeks their “soul mate” on dating sites than a risk comes with every encounter.
It was a horrible story and had the young mother made an early decision to screen her dates with an on-line security clearance, this never would have happened. However, like most woman, she herself was far too trusting and desperately wanted a soul mate,” and was willing to risk everything and go without a simple security check. The fear of loosing someone before there was a chance to discover love motivated the lack of discovery.
She knew this fear of loosing someone before love happened all too well. But then again, if someone is innocent they would certainly allow an investigation prior to dating. And, that potential date could also do the same and run a security check on her, as well. But, all they would find on her was “bad credit,” but then again, who would want to date someone who couldn’t keep a checkbook straight? But, she certainly wasn’t an axe murderer, nor had she been in jail, not even for one night. She was squeaky clean and quite prudish and shy. On-line dating provided a screen she could hide behind and become someone else bolder and more commanding, more beautiful and so forth…
And, the fact that she was deaf and blind wouldn’t be something she must reveal during their first encounter. No, that would be a sure turn-off if they saw the weir magnifying glasses she used to read and drive with. And, only dating sites would make this impossible for her. So, some things she hid from profile bios. She didn’t see her own deceptions and she never thought the men were or could be hiding their own. In fact ~
She believed everything male bio profiles stated.
“I want a relationship with someone forever.” Or, “I’m looking for a wife, a lover, a special woman who can love unconditionally, and who is romantic and loves kisses, and etc. etc…”
Of course, in her eyes, non of them lied or were deceitful, as she wasn’t either. But, the news article was a personal eyeopener for her. She must be more careful and risk loosing someone before a relationship had a chance to blossom and bloom.
The picture of Jeffrey Dahmer and other serial killers were in the next article. They seemed so demure, handsome, normal, pleasant, quiet, and intelligent deep thinkers and she found those traits attractive indeed. She realized her vulnerability and in fact she herself is attracted to men who bare these traits except, the hurting of animals…
How could they hurt an innocent animal! She felt again weak and victimized by her own naiveté’s. This is awful, stupid. This could be me one day.
The argument women should have to protect themselves to understand that serial killers, rapers, marryers, and serial people are often charming and the minute a person looks “to good,” or is a “Knight in white shinning armor,” then, here’s your red flag… Run and rum like hell… Away, far away.
This is about relationships that don’t function correctly.
So, she argued with herself whether or not she should continue trying to find HIM her soulmate online because of traumatic threatening possibilities, or be open to receive, Prince Charming.
It was a fact that she would never use a stupid dating site because her judge of character was keen in her own eyes. So, she believed and during the days she met her soul mate dating sites were new and on the rise. Social media was slim as the internet was just taking off.
As she sat reflecting on the eeriness of the story of the young mother, she also thought about the fact that many years ago, she was married to a man who had several alias’. Her ex spouses identity and alias’ were still a nemesis and perplexed her even after many years post their divorce. How he had been married so many times and his lies were so many, never straight, and to top off his fabrications of twisted stories, he always gave the reply, “My past is my past. We’re all forgiven and I don’t visit there.” At times he got ferociously angry when she “interrogated” him. That was his word, “Interrogated.” He would yell at her, “Why are you interrogating me!” His body language tightened. He bit his lips. His arms and legs crossed tightly either over his chest or leg over leg which couldn’t be moved apart due to control. His stare of disdain and threats were always present. He didn’t have to say another word. His body language said it all. You ask anything else and you’ll be very, very sorry. At the end of the relationship, he walked around the house with a shotgun. They slept in different areas of the house and that loaded gun stayed by his side. She uttered no words.
Then she flashed back to their earlier marital bliss, or never any of that, bliss stuff, but she had all of her five senses. She was neither deaf or blind in the earlier days.
Well, she answered herself, “Why is another woman’s name on a check book from your past and she signs her name with your last name?” The old checks were under old tax records and pictures and perhaps she was snooping, but it was justifiable as there were always rabbit holes every where that popped up all over the place. The check book was just one simple rabbit hole. The next was her name was written in his Bible but was erased out and under the name of a new woman…
“Because she fantasized about being married to me. She did that!” He yelled after she simply and mild asked about the name Rebecca that was shared on the checks with his name. Odd, but she dismissed the suspicions due to, why not, it kind of makes sense.
The box of his belongings still sat there and it became a curious place for finding clues and yes, there were more strange names and women that were on important tax documents dated years ago. The Bible also included another female name listed as an ex wife, but it too had been erased and she wondered why her name was never written inside as a spouse. After all she had been married to him several years. This Bible was his favorite and he read in it every morning faithfully so. She noticed he stared many Proverbs. One stared with fresh ink was * It is better to sleep under a leaky roof than to be married to a nagging wife. She asked herself is this one for me? Is he saying something to me knowing that I read his Bible every morning?
*(Note here Ronnie and Connie)
Now, in the old tax cardboard box she opened returns dated twenty years ago. In 1989 the top included his name and his spouse Ronnie McCarthy and the next years had a different obviously misspelled name, by the IRS, Connie McCarthy. Another anomaly that just raised and eyebrow as no one corrected the document obviously. An over site from The IRS… so she reasoned. And also began to think there were many, many, numerous incorrect legal documents and what is the likelihood that so many professional people could make similar mistakes. Something wasn’t adding up that two plus two no longer equalled four. And, the rabbit hole was small in the beginning; however, yearly it got more convoluted and just plain weird. The Bible and the cardboard tax box were early curiosities.
She told her family about the oddities she had found and they blew it off stating that she always had a vivid imagination and that she needed to quit being so suspicious and enjoy her life of influence and gifts and shopping sprees and beautiful homes and pleasantries that most women would never experience. Turn your eyes away and ignore as wealthy women do this so they can keep their lifestyles of luxury. The family smiled. We all do this honey. It’s just your wild imaginations. So, she did her best for many years to look away from suspicious behaviors and the many nights spent alone after being told tales of being at the office and working late, sometimes it was four to five days alone and that included Christmas Eves.
She had been married the first time to a man who’s family were extremely wealthy and were Virginia tobacco farmers. She knew and appreciated opulent living, but being physically abused was not a part of the family she cared to accept. She divorced him early and paid him to let her go in peace. It cost her an Alpaca rug and six silver Mint Julep tumblers. That was easy enough though her mother was pissed, she kept her physical self from harm and her mental state was temporarily in shambles, but she healed only to repeat the process with a pauper, and then the husband whom she reflects on. He was much more dangerous than the other two. He was dangerous because her family, loved him and saw no wrong doing and believed that she was the over imaginative, problem.
Then, the country clubs recognized her as being “his wife,” and she was elevated to a position of prestige with privileges of sitting at the front tables or being first for many things. She even won many prizes at events by social clubs for being his wife. Her friends were now his, or sort of…. That meant that she was not quite accepted into his circle of buddies and buddies wives. They had their own special very secretive group and she was invited to their parties only during holidays or when the other people of society were included. The other people were also left in the dark and more than likely knew somethings, but those somethings were never divulged to she, the new wife. Just whispers behind her back and fake smiles were felt. Her sixth sense was extremely keen and growing more and more as time passed and more oddities occurred.
Strangely enough, when she went to the country club escorted by her husband, his friends moved into her space when he left. They always had messages which were disconcerting. “You know, your husband really doesn’t want you to ride with him on the golf cart.”
“No?” She said. Shocked that he was so rude and not a Southern gentleman at all.
“No, he’s like me. Totally independent. He doesn’t want you tagging along.” Mr. Asshole left with a smile on his golf cart. She continued to read her book.
The time had passed after the discovery the cardboard box and the tax statements and she did as her family so graciously suggested. Maybe two years passed and since she was a wealthy working gal, she was approach by two men in a remote rural store in nowhere America. They were laughing and felt brave enough to say something to me after they saw my last name on my badge that I was wearing on my lapel.
*(note Henry McCarthy)
“By any chance are you married to so and so, Henry McCarthy?” They stared at her. Then they said,
“Oh, we thought you had red hair?” And they were quiet and waiting for a response fro her.
“No, I’m blonde and have been one most of my life. Red-head, huh? Maybe you’re thinking of someone else?”
“No, don’t think so. He introduced her as his wife.” They added seriously stating. The one man looked her in the eye.
“It must be a different McCarthy?” She said insisting they were wrong.
“No. He works for Tankard?” He cleared his throat. *******
“Yes. Yes, he does. He’s in a regional director. You probably don’t know him. He’s works out of The Ivory Tower.” She had a turned up nose and was in denial of their suggestions.
“Ma’am have a nice day. Sorry to ruin it for you. But, Mr. McCarthy from the Ivory Tower left The Hillcrest Country club with his red headed wife on his arm. She had much longer legs than you do.” He nodded and got in his decked out white Ford truck. “Good-Day.” He tipped his cowboy hat towards her and pulled out of the parking lot.
She was literally shaking. Her suspicions and fears were back again. Thinking to herself, was that planned? Did they hunt me down in rural boondocks grocery in Ten Buch Two to tell me my husband had a red head on his arm that he introduced as me? Did hey just say that? That man doubted that I am the wife. He thinks I’m a fake, wanna- be. He was questioning my authenticity.
She drove home literally not knowing what to say or how to act. Thank God he wasn’t home when she got back home. There was more time to think about what to say or not to say.
She called her mother and it was the same old story. “Turn your ears away and head. You see and hear nothing. You are innocent. Appreciate your life, dear. Go have tea with the ladies or afternoon drinks. Everything will be fine.” She mimicked her mother as it was always the same old song. Nothing was wrong but her daughter had an over active imagination.
And life went on as usual; however, one day she had to tell hime the story about the two men.
“Who were they! What did they look like?” Her husband was shaking his head. “I don’t have any enemies. Who are the men?” He insisted and was squirming in his chair.
“Two men in a white beefed up truck in the middle of rural nowhere. i was in a country store.” She retorted.
“What country store?” He demanded.
“I don’t know the name of it, but it;s at a four way stop in Slumberville. That’s all I can tell you.” And, thats all she could tell them and saying they had pot beer bellies was describing all men living in that area and they wore a cowboy hat, black and the other had a red ball cap on.”
“What writing did the ball cap have on it?” He counter interrogated.
“Not sure. He wasn’t doing the talking. Just the man in the black cowboy hat. They thought it was kind of funny, I guess or they thought I was lying about being your wife.”
His body language got tight again. Arms hugged around his chest crossed in front and one leg crossed the other has he sat in his grey easy chair tilting back. He seemed to be grimacing and grinding his teeth. He was pissed, no doubt about that.
She left the room, ASAP. The vibes were heavy and they were angry.
As usual, time in between was uneventful except when he left home Thursday or Friday and came back late Sunday nights, “On business.”
Christmas was coming and the huge grand ball for all the employees was almost there. This year she decided, because she always over-dressed to play it simpler. She purchased a beautiful gold delicately knitted top and black sleek crepe pants that slit up the back and were flared like a skirt. She had the perfect jewelry of gold that made her look like Princess Grace. And, they drove in the rain when the date rolled around.
The crowd mingled and there was several hundred people and an open bar. Slumberville Tankard hired three bands that year. One was a Motown band, the other pop and the other country. The party would last until one or two in the morning and that is how parties are planned there. Everyone looked like country movie stars or just stars.
“Honey I want you to meet … so and so and so and so…” until the hand shaking and the nods and greeting became wearisome. It was soon time for food but before the dinner was served, the open bar was packed and he left her at the table where their names were on cards. He was supposed to win a prize or two that year so they were strategically placed in the huge auditorium. She sat alone for a while continuing to nod to everyone who walked by. The time was getting longer than expected for him to get a couple of drinks so she turned to look in the bar. And there were only two people in there then leaning on the bar. Her husband was leaning on the bar talking to a woman with ~ red hair.
The woman’s hair about chin length like that man at the store showed her with his hand movements to chin length. She had on a royal blue midi dress made of velvet which was slit up the back skirt and the back swooped low which revealed her long slender back. He heart stopped a minuet. He saw she was looking at him and her. He signaled he was coming soon with two Bloody Mary’s.” The woman with the red hair and blue dressed slipped over to a man who had his foot on the wall starring at them both. He was more visual than she was. She got up from the chair and went to the bar. Her husband introduced the woman as Sheri and also said, “This is Shari’s husband.” And, Sheri’s husband never looked up to greet her nor did he take his eye off his wife nor the situation.
Once during the evening she had gone into the ladies room. Sheri followed her in there with a couple of women friends. Nothing was said nor any acknowledgement made by either women.
It was just another strange happenstance, thats all. The men in the white truck in nowhere America could’ve been right… Just another red flag, thats all. Clock it up to imagination like mom says.
For Christmas, a present to herself, she visited her first astrologer and psychic since she was getting nowhere with family or his friends. The questions were becoming exasperating and gnawing at her mind. Something wasn’t adding up and two plus two was definitely not four. She was hardly sleeping. The phone rang at odd times and he spoke quietly and would quickly leave the home stating there was a work problem.
During the reading in late December, the astrologer said, “Oh, you’re moving soon. Like within eight months. You will be moving out of town and things should get better for a while.
She agreed that something was not right in the marriage and that the deception was real. At one point she ran out of the session. She says the psychic will finish the reading and whatever she tells you, you can take it to the bank.
So the psychic was confused as she was thrown in the middle of the reading and was clueless, but she continued anyway. She verified all her fears; however, she said, “Your husband is very naughty, indeed, but know its an addiction and he really has no control over what he does. Actually, you are the love of his life. He’s just sick.”
Six weeks after the psychic reading he came in one day from work and said, “We’re seeing transferred out of the state. We will be moving to his grand Texas, back to his hearts desire. The psychic was right.
And it’s here in this story it must be said that their home in which they bought and purchased in Louisiana did have a ghost to top off all the craziness and made her seem madder than the hatter. The ghost was rather aggressive at times, he, the ghost, through crosses across the room many times and while she had packed to leave Louisiana and was resting quietly on the plush carpet floor having her eyes closed, a glass table was dumbed on top of her while she was alone in the house, not a sound, not even music or TV or a radio. Just silence. She knew no matter what, she has to leave. He appeared in mirrors and wore red flannel shirts and a red ball cap and she called him, Her Redneck Ghost. The ghost didn’t seem to like her, but on the other hand, he did many things to gain her attention. Perhaps he was trying to tell her something and she wasn’t paying attention?
However, before the move there would be other instances.
Her son came home in between breaks from college and it was Spring Break. College kids keep late hours and so he also slept late. Meanwhile, she took her younger daughter to a party in town which was fifty miles away and she was to be there early because all the young women were going on a boating journey and a sleep over at a cabin in the woods. So, it was 6 AM when they were scrambling to get dressed, fed, packed and there, 50 miles, by 10 Am.
Suddenly at 06:25 the phone rang and on the other end was an angry woman who demanded to speak with her husband, “Now.” And, assuming positively it was his work, he jumped out of bed, un-showered, unshaven, and in shorts and said,
“I have yo go to get new tires.” He ran out the door, It was a Saturday and he was always busy playing his sport on Saturdays, all day and sometimes into the night.
Okay, I said. Chalking the odd woman on the phone demanding to speak to him, the fact he went out hurriedly without showering, shaving and doing his routine of very excessive hygiene practices and also saying he was going to get tires when a tire store wouldn’t be open until later, just added one more odd event to her marriage of curiosities. She went about her business getting in the car and arriving on time at the boat dock and wishing her daughter off with plans to pick her up “tomorrow.” Since she was near other stores, less rural, she did some errands, picked up her paycheck and proceeded home, but she did a drive by the tire store and his luxury truck was not there, no sign of it. When she arrived back her son was now up and was amxious to tell his incredible story of the night before at the house. This was around 2 PM and she had been gone over 5 hours.
And, there was no sign of Mr. MCCarthy. Her son said he had not seen him all day. Mom and son went into the backyard to sit on the swing. He was so excited to tell his mom, the story.
“Mom, I cam outside at 3 Am to have a cigarette and while I was sitting on the swing in between the trees, I saw a women. When she saw me she went and hid behind that one.” He pointed at one of the trees that sat about 18 feet from my bedroom window. He said, “She glided, between them hoping I wouldn’t see her. She had a white long dress on and her hair was up in a bun or a pony tail. It was dark so I couldn’t see her to well. She had a high color on and it was buttered all the way up to the nap of the neck. She was holding something in her hands and up to her chest.” His eyes were huge and he was talking so rapidly. “I think it was a ghost.”
At the same time, the mother was thinking of the odd call that came at 0625 and the rapid disappearance of her husband whom had not yet returned after 6 hours of having the “tires changed.” She thought of the odd story her son was telling her and the hour that it occurred, could there be a link? Was this the same woman who was in the backyard and who called at dawn? Was this an apparition?
It had rained the night before and the backyard was completely fenced. So, and inspection had to be made of the perimeter. How could anyone come into the backyard without the sensor lights, the dog barking and past her son?
Oh, the fence on the side was broken. The wood at the top of the fence was broken off and on the neighbors side of the fence were two large paint buckets turned over where the fence was broken and to top it off there was one footprint in the mud. And, she knew a ghost doesn’t need paint buckets nor do they break fences to enter private property.
Two nights after that and two moths before moving, her son told her another creepy tale. “Mom, I was up at 3 Am again and was standing on the front porch.” There was surrounding the front a beautiful Souther Porch. “I was standing outside when a sports car backs out of our driveway (behind the house and not seen if standing on the front porch) and pulls out. When they saw me outside they took off over the grass in the front yard.”
“What type of car? What was the color?” She asked trying to sort more little erroneous details.
“I think it was red. I can’t be sure. And I think it may have been a Mustang or something like that,” he tried to clarify, but he said, “It was dark outside.”
The front yard was inspected for tire marks and yes there were some, but very scant and left very little marks. It did drive across the front yard.
And, that was another oddity and her mind was just imagining things, again.
They moved to Texas and they had now been married three and a half years and they both seemed very happy then. He was thrilled to leave Louisiana, though she was more hesitant to leave friends, all she could think about was making him happy.
The move was actually happy and pleasant. New jobs, new people, new beginnings so she honestly believed. Though she made many terrific friends in Louisiana, Texas would probably be just as warmly special. Leaving behind the best of friends, she would never forget them, nor let them forever depart. She promised to call them and they her, as well.
Soon, after the move they were invited to a huge golf tournament back in Louisiana and it was all paid for and so was the hotel, all expenses including (the wife), who would be attending all the ladies events and was specially invited to join the women’s all day shopping spree on the river where the shops were often fun … So, she bought a huge wardrobe spending a few thousand on clothing and jewelry to dawn herself in the way an honored wife should look.
She was ready to go! Their way had been paid by a husband and wife who seemed remarkably wonderful. She was excited to see them and family left behind there.
At the women event she won, as usual, a trip for two to Las Vegas, and several other monetary gifts. She looked stunning as she was petite, blonde and had apple breasts, but packed an attitude that was unusual. A little quirky, fun and really quite prudish, which was hard to interpret by the on lookers. She smiled a lot and forgot about the craziness she lived in. All that weird stuff always faded away and she saw only goodness. She and her husband spent lots of money, gambling, eating, drinking, shopping and buying others the same. To give up this lifestyle, one would have to be insane.
They all went out that night. She had a gold gown on and gold sparkling high heal sandals. her blonde hair was in an up-do and her toe nails and finger nails were finished that afternoon after the ladies luncheon and before all the women gathered at the pool. Of course the spa was quickly booked up for massages, but there was a reservation made, for her, before the pool party where then Bloody Mary’s were served freely. After the pool party she stole a little nap and at 7 PM she dressed to meet her husband, Mr. McCarthy at the ballroom at the country club.
The Louisiana and Texas crowd gathered in a nice size room holding 300 or more people, husbands, golfers, executives and wives. There were no girlfriends invited. Everyone was sparkling, dazzling and so superficially polite and correct. The dinner was Prime Rib or chicken and the entertainment came after the husbands were awarded and after more prizes came and then the music. Those kinds of nights were absolutely perfect. She felt like she was Princess grace and he wore her on his arm as though she truly was a divine creature. She loved that part of being married to Mr. McCarthy.
Later, everyone went back to their luxury hotels and agreed to go gambling. She changed into something casually comfortably elegant as did everyone else and they all met up at the bar before spending more money. But, money was like a fountain and it flowed smoothly without any interruptions. From the bar everyone branched off and went to their pleasure as far as gambling went, she thought.
Not being a gambler, she decided to walk the mall, shop and retire early for the night by herself. A soak in the hot tub in the center of their hotel room and a movie was her plans.
Suddenly, she was face to face with her husbands finance’s wife. The bombshell woman asked her to go for one drink at the bar and she accepted the one drink offer, which turned into three or four. They stood at the bar together having small talk about husbands, children and the usual, personal plans and dreams. The woman was a voluptuous wife with auburn hair and very well dressed. She was lively, carefree, enjoyed drinking and was flamboyant and sensual. She could see why men were drawn to her and she saw a warm and tender side.
It was getting late and she was getting anxious to continue with her original plans, soak in the hot tub and watch a movie. But, her new friend kept talking lively and was definitely tipsy.
“Hey,” she said. “I want to tell you about what we do for fun. Now, don’t tell anyone. This is our secret?”
She nodded yes, and she had a feeling, a notion of where this conversation was going. “Go ahead, tell, me. I need all the help I can get in our marriage.”
“Really? How so? What kind of help do you need?” She alluded to having my answers.
“Oh, romantic. We need sensuality and the animal desire for each other, again.” She spoke directly with wanting to know more. She wanted to hear what the exec’s wife’s suggestions were for a marriage without physical interactions.
“You gotta be sexy.” She nodded.
She always thought she was… sexy. After all many men had pursued her and she knew she was not lacking. “Okay, go on.”
“You and he must do things that keep your marriage thriving.” She smiled her sheepish withholding impish sneaky grin.
“And, what is your suggestion?” Now she was getting somewhere.
“Well, must husband and I swap partners.” She stepped back and waited for her response.
She knew it. That was what she thought all along. BINGO! She found one answer. These men traveled together and lived in each others back pockets. BINGO! “Really, you swap?” The other wife thought she would be shocked. She wasn’t. She knew the hook and saw it coming. After all, her first husband who’s family were the tobacco farmers was really into wife swapping. She knew couple swappers lingo. She saw it coming. The looks, the leads, the eye and the suggestions and questions and then the hook. The seduction.
The trail of conversation leads one way. It might be spoken using different smiles, words, thoughts, but it’s all the same sales pitch and she knew the sale very well. BINGO!
“Tell, me,” she asked the woman,”Why would you want to do that? Why be married? Why not be single?”
“Because, Because we love each other and enjoy swapping. It’s what we do and I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She spoke boldly with conviction.
“I see and I do understand your situation. I was married to a man once who demanded the same sexual activities. I began to hate him. he began abusing me physically and I never seemed to live up to his idea of perfection. He wanted to dress me for the other men and women, my hair wasn’t long enough, blonde enough, nor was I fat enough or thin enough. I couldn’t make him happy. For me, swapping would not be an option for marriage. But, saying this, will say, each to his own ting.” She arose from the bar stool. “I’m sleepy now, I’m going to the room.”
“Oh, I’ve offered you!?!” She stood in shock thinking she had said, way too much.
“No, no you haven’t,” she assured her. “Its just I’ve been where you’re at and it’s not for me.” She smiled and turned to leave the bar.
She had to cross the four lane downtown street of the city in the dark by herself and it was raining. But, she made it to her room; however, she didn’t make her bath, nor turn on the TV. No, she sat in the dark sitting in a chair thinking about what had just occurred. What had happened? Is this what he and his friends do when they travel together? What was that romans ultimate goal? Did she think I would agree and go with she and her husband or did she make deliberate plans for the four of us. A gloom fell over her. She felt like their whore. They paid for the expensive weekend and she ruined it for her husband.
The hotel opened very soon after, It was her husband. He seemed rattled and his night was cut short as his plans were to gamble all night, but here he was asking her, “Whats wrong? Are you all right? Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Thinking. I’m thinking.” She kept her answers deliberately short. There were no truths shared in this marriage.
He asked no more questions, but he went to bed cuddling her tightly. That too made her wonder why he was so cuddly that evening. He usually was a don’t ever touch me person. Don’t ever touch me! So, why now? This made no sense, but she took advantage of his generous affections that night. He seemed as if he wouldn’t let her go, never. She felt loved by him which was rare. She liked his comforting side.
They didn’t say goodbye to the couple who paid for the weekend. They were not around for breakfast and it was now time to hit the road home. They had a two hour drive.
Home and back for a week and the next weekend would be another huge golfing tournament in Louisiana at the old country club with old friends. She couldn’t wait. It was New Year’s Eve and of course she had to buy the right outfit. His family would be there and so would her own personal friends. This was going to be awesome!
The next weekend they were off to Louisiana again. She came later in her own car as she had to work, but still soon she would arrive. She drove as fast as her huge SUV would travel 2:45 minutes. She checked into the hotel and made a call to meet up with henry in a couple of hours for a meal at the country club.
Henry didn’t answer his call. She waited and Henry didn’t call back, either. She called him again. No answer, no response. So, she drove out there believing she was interrupting his game of golf. Henry was nowhere around the country club as she greeted old friends, his friends.
“Have you seen Henry?” She asked his buddies and their wives.
“Oh, he’s around somewhere.” This was the common answer.
She went in the bar and there he was sitting with a group of his old cronies, drinking.
“Don’t you check your messages? I thought the plan was to meet up?” She tried her best not to sound pissed or interrogative, but it was hard.
“I told you no such thing.” He took a sip of beer as the others chuckled and the creep that always told her that she wasn’t welcome to ride with her husband was the chief humiliator. But, she will win. She was determined.
She saw non of their humor to be particularly humorous, but sly and hateful.
“Well, are we going to eat?” She asked him.
“I ate already. Go help yourself. They have ribs down the hill and crawfish out back.” And there was no “I’ll go with you.” So, she went bravely by herself and said hello to those she knew.
On Saturday, the women’s’ luncheon, then shopping, visiting, the party, the dinner and the awards followed by a band that played until 2 AM. She had a new outfit for every event. She visited Beth before all of it began and her best friend went with her to the luncheon.
She had already told Beth about the woman at the previous event and what she said. Beth just listened and never gave her opinion. She made jokes, but was really a very good friend.
She and Beth walked into the luncheon wearing their Junior League outfits. They chose their table with Bloody Marys’ and sat to chat. Beth said hello to a few of her friends in the community. The show began.
This year it was a tremendous magic show put on by a Professor of Mathematics at a local University. He was kind of like the old Kreskin. He bent a spoon with his mind. He called women out of the audience and told them things about themselves that no one knew. Some of the revelations were horrifying for some of the women, she assumed, if it had been her,she certainly wouldn’t want others to know those kinds of secrets.
She wanted him to call her out, but then again she didn’t.But, he didn’t. And the luncheon ended. It was a fabulous day with Beth.
As Beth and she were walking out of the country club, the magician said in a booming voice to (she), “Hey! I have to ask you a question.. I was going to call you out, but I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
She tilted her head and say, “What? What do you need to say?’
“Do you know why men cheat on their wives?’ She took a step back.
“What! ? No, no I don’t’,” She silent, opened her ears widely. “Tell me why?”
“Well, it’s not what you think. They don’t cheat for love. They cheat for the thrill of it.” And he was finished with that and she sat there with her mouth wide open.
“Beth. What did he just say to me?” She added looking back at the old retired professor magician, “Are you psychic?’
He laughed, “No, no I’m not psychic. I’m a magician. That’s all.” He laughed and walked away to his old car and drove off.
“You see?” She said to Beth.
“He said men cheat, because it’s for the thrill.” Beth replied.
“No, what did he really say?” She asked for something deeper.
“What are you saying? What do you think he was said?’ Beth turned the question around as she wasn’t certain of where the conversation was supposed to go.
“That man didn’t just come up to me out of the blue and say that. He knew something. He was tipped off by one of the women here before it all began. He said, I didn’t want to embarrass you, so I waited until I saw you privately. He’s not psychic. He’s a magician. He said that. He did it by chicanery. He knew what I was thinking before it all started. And the two women who hired him are my husbands best friends wives. You know the ones that I told you who leave me out all the time. They must have given him information.” She began to wonder why the women would be so cruel or find a joke from it. Did they know something they were holding back? All the questions began again, the rumination, the questions, the questions, the questions rolled over and over and over twenty-four seven…
Chapter 4 (Thinking and Pondering the loose ends)
Oh, the red flags were everywhere, but she kept the advice of her mother and carried on with the many unanswered questions, as her mother suggested. She did love dressing like a queen and she began to enjoy the hours and days she was left alone, to draw, paint and write. She thought all the time about the loose strings that always led to nowhere.
She began asking questions to anyone and everyone. The curiosity and the mysteries were killing her. Never had she lived in such confusion and vagueness. Her existence and marriage was similar. Was she really married or was she a symbol or a representation of a white picket fence marriage? Was her life real and was there any truths she could grasp other than a marriage certificate?
His hateful demeaner when he was around the house was disheartening. He loved to exasperate her as he used racial slurs and made fun of “fat” and “ugly” people. He laughed when he saw how upset she was. Once he got in her face using his index finger threatening her with the words, “In my house we say the word, nigger. You understand?”
She wasn’t raised like that. Growing up in The South, her family never used any kind of hateful conversation. To add, if anything like that was said, then she could be assured that her mouth would be washed out with a bar of soap. So, unkind phrases and words were not acceptable, at all. No, she would not use that word. In fact, while visiting his “Christian” family she said out loud after one member said a racial slur, How can you call yourself a Christian and hate like that? After all, the man who carried the cross for Jesus was a black man.”
When pulling out of their driveway, Henry McCarthy threatened her again, “Don’t you ever again speak like that to my family. They are good Christian people and good Southerners. Period. Do you understand?”
“Yea, sure.” She murmured. She was hoping Henry would leave town, soon. But, since he wasn’t leaving for a while she thought how different her families lives were to his. There was no comparison except they were Southerners.
Henry’s family were Way different. After a little investigation she found links to the KKK in his family. How could she be in this situation? What is her mother thinking? He always put on his Southern gentleman behaviors when he was around her family. He used the proper eating utensils and chewed his food with his mouth closed. He never talked with his mouth filled with food. He ate slowly and methodically and conversed in an intellectual and kind manner. He never sat at the dinner table with a T-shirt on or bare chested. And, if her late father knew this man was linked to the infamous KKK he would tell her she was in trouble. Her mother would have excused his racial slurs because he said it humorously and meant absolutely nothing, by it. Little did her mother know or maybe little did she care that her husband wasn’t joking, at all. He meant every word. he also realized her mother was quite happy with the fact that her daughter, his wifie, as he called her, was once again donned in beautiful garments and had a huge purse. There was very little she couldn’t buy, well almost. And, Money Can’t Buy Me Love, as it was once sung by The Beatles. She sighed. She was fighting a loosing battle and vague ghosts were all around her. Was she loosing her mind?
Henry really didn’t like her mother. He made fun of her pouty-toity personality. He called her a snob behind her back and accused his wifie of being A Yankee.
On the advice of her mother and friends she sought a therapist. After all, the family told her she was terribly imaginative and creative, but in a negative way. “Honey, you can manifest many things. I’ve seen you year after year, but it’s all negative. You need to create goodness and positive, and see things in a good light. Why if anyone had the powers to be a witch, it would be you. But, use your magic and make this marriage good. See all of your life as wonderful. Make your home the sanctuary that any man would want. You can do it. It’s in you. I’ve seen you in operation. Just wiggle your nose dear. Make it so. Be the ball, as you say so often to you husband.”
So, she followed everyones advice and sought a Phd psychologist to help her with her delusions and black magic. She was sarcastic at this point in the game. She saw him one a week for a couple of weeks, then two times a month, then once a month until the therapy was complete. His advice was “Run and run like hell.” He was a quote un-quote Christian Counselor.
She reflected on a conversation she had with Henry’s forty year old son. He asked her one day, “Honey, he called her Honey, How many times has my dad told you he’s been married?”
“Four.” Honey replied.
The son shook his head no.
She tensed up and though this was the perfect time to ask questions, as he was drunk and willing to talk. She clammed up. Fear gripped her when she had one of Henry’s bold faced lies actually hitting her in the face. This was the first actually verification of a hidden untruth, exposed by the light in his son.
For many years she realized it was then with his son, she should have interrogated him. But, her shy demure fearful personality did the controlling. It would be that quite characteristic that would keep her alive. The ability to be quite at the right time.
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
The opening scene takes place in a grocery store parking lot in August where there are numerous vehicles parked and many people shopping. It wasn’t a chance meeting though it was meant to be brief and appear accidental. The setting is in a small city in The Bible Belt. It was an extroidinarily hot afternoon and there were no clouds in the sky. Three people greeted each other. Two knew each other previously, the young doctor and the informant, and the third person, his wife, was being introduced, even though, she was not invited, the doctor brought her. The doctor’s young children were with other family members as it had been planned, but not his wife.
The story dialogue begins with the young wife asking the female informant,
“Who are you and who are they? You have told my husband so much bullshit?”
The informant, double agent for whomever replied, “I don’t know, but can tell you sincerely, they are not lovely, nor are they kind.” She looked down in somber explanation and then looked up into the eyes of a questioning young wife.
The double agent stared at her. She said, “I didn’t seek your husband out; they did.” She further added, “Guard your children. Never let them out of your site.” She looked away into a distant stare. She remembered her own children’s disappearances twenty-two years ago, even though, they returned changed somewhat. She would never forget the horrors and memories that would never go away. Her children told of her about men who did terrible things. Such horrific details she could not bare to listen to them. Each child taken at different times and by different people. She reflected for a moment about her own childhood and those men cloaked in black hoods and were taller than anyone she had ever seen. Their faces had been hidden from her, but she didn’t want to see. She hid under the covers on many cold nights.
The doctor’s wife said frantically, “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”
The female agent hesitated before she responded as she thought. It wasn’t that she was withholding information from the insisting young wife. No, but she was truly unsure of who she was or is to “them,” or anyone. “I am not sure of who I am, or why, or how I came into their services not by choice.”
“That makes no sense! What do you mean, you don’t know? Surely you know something? You’re lying.” The young wife was trembling as she was angry, frightened, and determined to understand the craziness of what she had just heard. “And, what do you mean when you say, guard my children? Are you threatening our family?”
The atmosphere was somber. The electricity of the moments before fell when the informant raised her hands and gently moved them slowly up and down from over head to lower than her hips settling and calming the air. The young wife at first thought the informant was aggressively posturing, but a few seconds later realized the movement was certainly not generated to cause any physical harm.
The female informant said, “I’m not here to harm you. I don’t have any hardcore answers. I’ve searched for those answers all my life. I can only tell you the little that I know. But, we must find a safe place. A place underground and protected. We’re being tracked. They must not see that we connected. And, I hope it’s not too late.”
The young doctor of medicine spoke up. He had been silent because he was as confused as his wife. “Where do you suggest that we meet?”
The informant said, “Go to your office Monday and work just like any other day.” Then, to the young wife she advised the same. “I will arrange the place and the connection.” She told the doctor, “I will call for an appointment and will tell you then the particulars, but know your office is not safe. They will track and listen to us. You can not write a note to me there in my presence or speak of this. Understand? You will not call me and I won’t call you unless it’s for an appointment.”
He nodded yes.
The informant said, “We must break this meeting up, now.”
“He said, “Will this be soon?”
“Not sure. It could be awhile. We have to leave some gaps in time. They’re tracking us even now,” she responded quietly.
The young doctor’s wife said, “This is crazy.”
The informant nodded in agreement. “I’m going now.” She gets in her old white 2005 Honda Accord and starts the engine. She opens the car window on her way out and says loudly to the young doctor’s wife, as to be heard, “It was so nice to meet you.” She drove out of the parking lot.
The female informant takes the little amount of cash from her piggy bank, she takes the money and speeds of to The closes discount store. At the back of the store she purchases three cell phones. One for the doctors wife, one for the doctor and one for herself and places them in bubble wrap in a large envelope. She puts only the doctors name on it and tightly licks the glue on the envelope and presses it tightly. She also included the instruction for the cell use to each other only. Use it as little a possible. All regular medical calls were to be by appointment and by going through the secretary, just like normal. She left the store and drove to pick up her grandson who is getting out of summer day camp. The boy is ten.
“Grandma, where are we going?” This wasn’t their usual way to go home and he had friends to play with so he was in a hurry. “Why are we going this way?”
“No worries. We have to drop off papers at the doctors office.” She pulled up in front of the front door drive. She handed the boy the envelope and said, “Tell the receptionist this is for him and open as soon as he can” So, the boy did just what he was told.
“Now can we go?” He was whiny and put out that he was delayed as he got into the car.
“What did the receptions say? Did you her that the doctor was waiting for her records and they were important?” The female informant asked her grandchild.
“They were nice and said, “Who sent it? And, I told them, you did and you said it was important.” The kid was sighing as he had things to do. “Can we go now?”
She, the female informant smiled at the boy and drove away wondering how soon the phones would be delivered and will he open the package then, and would the secretary loudly announce who brought them? She ruminated about this. Should she call him to be certain he got the?
The receptionist hand delivered the packages to the doctor when he was sitting in his office. He said, “What’s this?”
The receptionist said, “Oh Mrs. Smith, you know the kind of crazy one, said you were expecting these.” She smiled as she stood in the door waiting and watching him open the notes as she was told by the boy. “I sure hope her grandchild won’t be that looney.”
The doctor stopped opening the package and said, “That’s okay. I’ll open the latter. We have work to do.” He arose and put the envelope on his chair and scooted it under the desk. He shut the door behind him as it automatically locked. He then took the envelope and carefully opened it and looked at the two phones. Man, she’s serious about this craziness. He put them in his briefcase and the note in his shirt pocket.
Later he made his first call to the informant. He was alone in his car and he soon pulled over on the side of a dark road hidden under trees where it was safe. He called the informant.
“I thought you said this would happen later? What’s going on?” The doctor’s voice was hostile, angry, but on the other hand ~ He called her.
“Glad you called so quickly. We have work to do.” The informant was short and to the point. She walked outside away from her home just in case her voice was transmittable from inside her home. She took a leisure walk as far as she could and stopped.
“What do I have to do with your delusions?” Firmly, he insisted an answer. “Leave my family out of your charades, you understand me!”
“Trust me, your family is in danger, doctor.” The informant bounced back at him. “Your wife shouldn’t have come Sunday, so why did you bring her?”
The doctor was silent, then he said, “Because, in case you were hitting on me, then she would see and intercept this bizarre fabrication. I should have you arrested for stalking.”
“So, why don’t you?” She was silent.
“I’m not sure.” He paused, “Perhaps, I’m interested in your tales of cloak and daggers, your mysteries of God knows what.”
The informant listened, “Go on. Any more , hmm?
“You talk. Your turn. Explain your business.” The doctor fell quiet. “And, to add, the phones. A little over the top, for a twisted sorted game, I’d say.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Did you see the laboratory notes in the envelope?”
“No.” He responded.
“I put two reports from my distant past and one of a recent test. Both under the name of Mrs. Smith.”
“Okay. Tests of what kind?” He reached for the envelope on the car seat next to him and opened it.
“Lab tests with my DNA. You will notice that both tests have 1% Neanderthal and the old test has 2% unknown DNA and the latest has 3.5% unknown.” The informant waits for him to answer.
“Wait a minute let me look.” He ruffles with the pages. “You know DNA is not my expertise.”
“Just look.” She shot back quickly.
“Yes, I see, but still I don’t know what this means, I don’t do DNA.” He’s disconcerted with her for insisting him involuntarily into matters he is unlearned.
She sighed having her own frustrations with his lack of concern or understanding.
“What do these reports have to do with me? I ask you again. Stop with the vagueness.” He insisted.
She thought, “I want you to have labs drawn on me again, then on your self.”
“What? That’s absurd. Why should I carry on with your delusional mystery?” He continued to look at the lab reports and her DNA. He recognized the lab values were not matching and are increasing and thought, why? “Why do I have to test mine? Why am I relevant to your search?”
“I will be in this week and you will draw labs on me under the name of Mrs. Smith, right?” She restated her request.
“Yes, come into the office Wednesday noon. No one but the staff will be around. I’ll just tell them it’s for labs that had to be drawn at noon. But, mine… not sure.” He gave clear instructions to the informant and took control of her craziness.
“Okay, Wednesday at noon, I’ll be there, but if my labs are remarkable then you will draw yours?” She took control again.
“Okay. Deal. But, what does your DNA have to do with mine? We’re not related.” He hesitated, “Are we?”
“Well, yes, in away we are.” She said, “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
They hung up and she walked back to her house. It started to thunder. Rain was coming soon.
He was busy the early part of the week. The young doctor didn’t have time to think about the strange phone cal except the last words the crazy Mrs. Smith, the odd informant said, “Well, yes, in away we are.” And, this bothered him. These words got under his skin. What exactly did she mean?
“Hello Mrs. Smith.” The young doctor unlocked the door to the clinic. “Come on back.”
The informant Mrs. Smith was directed to the phlebotomy room. “Our phlebotomist is on her lunch break so if you’ll allow me to do it, then I’ll have it done in no time.” He was friendly and spoke loudly so the staff could hear him and think nothing about a noon lab draw. After all, the doors were shut at exactly noon. He had all the vials, the tourniquet, the needles and the centrifuge ready. “May I get you a coke or coffee?”
“A coke would be good. Thank you,” She responded.
“Before you drink the coke,” after he handed it to her, “Let me swab your mouth for DNA. We’ll do it every way we can to get comparisons. Okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” She seemed glum and was quiet, but decided chit chat would be best in case she was tracked into his office and was being listened to. “How has your week been?”
The doctor, nodded his head, “Here make a fist” as he had placed the tourniquet on her upper arm, “The week has been quite unusual. The office has been busy as all get out.”
She smiled. “Unusual?”
“Oh, nothing too crazy.” He chuckled under his breath.
“I see sarcasm, doctor.” She sighed. “I hope everything is back to your normal routine?”
“Absolutely. Things couldn’t be better.” He cut it short. He was beginning to sweat. He blew a vein. “Dam-it. I have to use the other arm.”
“Dam-it? Do you always talk this way around clients?” She acted upset. “Calm down. I don’t have all day. I have to go back to work soon.”
He shut up and put the tourniquet tightly on the left arm. “That should do it.” He was successful and unsnapped the cord. “There you go. Finished. The labs will be sent out after lunch.” He escorted her to the door and opened for her. “I’ll call you with the results, Mrs. Smith.”
“Make me copies. I will pick them up.” She turned quickly not to show any familiar behavior in case they were being watched. Off she went in the old white Honda.
The doctor walked into the office and sat down at the computer. He added a drug screen and a BAC to the labs. This way he would no if the woman was drunk, on drugs and her DNA which he was now curious of.
He wanted to ask Mrs. Smith for her real name, but thought about the fact that having too much information was irrelevant and would involve him even farther than he wanted. Nope, he answered his curiosity.
Two weeks passed by and he had not thought about the labs or Mrs. Smith. After all, he was a busy doctor with many patients and his wife surely would have him involved in more social activities than he wanted. So, the thoughts of those two dilemmas were simply dismissed.
Mrs. Smith, the female informant, laid low and never once called him on the cell phones or contacted his office. However, she ruminated about the findings and wondered why he had not contacted her about the results. She bit her nails and chewed them off, but she was silently waiting.
Another Wednesday two point five days later:
The fax machine was shooting out labs as it usually did at any doctors office. The lab tech took them off the machine and delivered the results to the prospective doctors. She put values into the young doctors box on the outside of his door where he would see them and read them. He did just that and noticed in the pile of fifteen or more pages the name Mrs. Smith. She had several of the fifteen pages. He closed the door behind him and sat to look them over. The first one was the drug screen. It was negative of any substance then he looked at the BAC. No alcohol present in her blood system. “Damn she’s clean a a whistle.” He flipped through to the DNA results. And sure enough the swab of the oral mucosa results were conclusive to the last results she had. 3.5% Unknown and 1% Neanderthal, he whispered to hime self. He didn’t know any DNA specialists, he didn’t know what this meant.
“Amy,” he yelled.
“Yes, doctor.” Amy poked into his office.
“Find a local DNA or Genetic engineer, doctor or someone I can send a DNA consult out to.” The doctor ordered right now and Amy got right on it…
She called around and found a Doctor not far away. She wrote his number and address down and took it into the young doctor.
He placed a call and was able to get through to the doctor when he identified himself as a doctor.
“Doctor DNA, this is the young doctor, and I wanted to ask about normal and abnormal DNA percentages. Could you tell me if 3.5% is unusual in oral mucosa for a normal human level?
Could you tell me where I can look such information up? A reference perhaps?” The young doctor asked collegiately.
The elder doctor replied after he cleared his throat, “You say 3.5% doctor?”
“Yes, that’s right, 3.5%.” The young doctor clarified.
“That can’t be right. test again. The lab is wrong. Can’t be.” And he was certain in the tone of his voice, the young doctor was mistaken.
“No, this is the second recent result. They are the same from two different labs.” There was a silence between the two men and the fund doctor said, “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, anyway.”
“Yes, he added those two results are wrong. Your patient would not be human, sir. Well, good day, call again if you need me.” The elder doctor thought the question was odd and the response that two different tests from two different labs verified the same 3.5% values and this was more than interesting, indeed. He wished he had gotten the young doctors number, but he didn’t. He asked his secretary, but she had gone for the day, as usual.
The young doctor hung up and wished he hadn’t called the consulted doctor. But, he waited for the staff to leave saying good bye then he attempted to draw his own labs as he promised. Finally after stabbing himself three times was able to get them, four vials, in an upside down manner on the arm. He put them in the refrigerator and with a label the lab staff told him, after an inquiring call, for a miscellaneous practice draw. No charges, no questions, just a practice. He made two copies for the informant as he promised. He put them in the brief case, and sped off to the tree area on the side of the road where he could call her. Meanwhile, his wife called and asked why he was late?
“You forgot we had a diner party tonight? You’re late.” She demanded that he answer and she demonstrated her anger of missing such an event.
“Sorry, working late and I’ll be thirty more minutes. Go on without me.” He was sweet to her placating her for now.
He pulled the car over under the trees off the side of the road. There was no one around. He made his call on the cell phone the female informant, Mrs. Smith provided.
The phone rang several times. He did not leave a message. The messages had not been set up. Mrs. Smith thought that would be best, no messages to be traced. He began to drive home and when he arrived the house was empty. His children were staying with his inlays for the night. He didn’t feel like attending a dinner party so instead he poured a Jack on the rocks. He sat in a comfortable slouchy chair in the dark and thought of what the labs meant to him. What did Mrs. Smith mean when she said they are related?
His private cell from Mrs. Smith rang. It was her. He answered quietly. “Hello.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call, well? Any results?” She jumped into the labs without any surface conversation.
“Yes, I have them. And, your two copies.” He shot back at her.
“Well, what do they say? Did you make me copies?” She was eager to hear the results that she was certain concrete as she thought.
“They are conclusive to your other labs. 3.5% unknown in oral mucosa.” He paused.
“I want the copies. Where can I meet you?” She hurried not wanting to miss the results or to allow time to prevent her from getting them.
“Not tonight. I’m too tired. Come to the secretaries in the morning. They will be there.” He again took control as that was his nature.
“No, not at your office. Bump into me tomorrow at the store just like in August at Mid-day. We can greet and pass the envelope like everything is normal.” She was in control.
“Okay, but meet me at 2pm. I have meetings until then. Oh, my wife has come home. Got to go.” He hung up the cell and put it in the brief case.
“Hello honey. Why didn’t you come. Everyone waited for you.” She was tall and red headed like Maureen O’ Hara and fiesta like her, as well.
“Too busy. I just got home.” He swirled the bourbon in the glass.
“Well, you should have called to let us know to eat without you. Is that bourbon? Are you drinking alone in the dark? That bad, huh?”She could interrogate with her lean body and red hair better than an FBI agent. “What could be so imperative to a family care doctor?”
He rolled his eyes at her sarcastic put-down of being only, in his mind, a family care doctor? Geez, what does a man have to do to get recognition and respect? Damn her.
Early the next day he got a call on the private cell. He was on his way to work and alone driving in the rain.
The informant female says, “It’s not a good idea to meet you at 2pm. Is there any way you could meet me now? Do you have the labs reports with you?”
“I have them with me. I’m close to work and have only a few extra minutes. Where?” He responded quickly.
“Park your car at the grocery and walk to the post office. Go through their backdoor. I’ll walk there and be there in ten minuets.” She hung up.
He was early that morning with thirty minutes to spare. So, this plan of hers would work. Driving the car to the grocery and parking it he then got out and walked as if he were going into the store, but he walked the sidewalk to the post office where the most office boxes were and walked out the back door. She was standing there in the rain.
“Well, come inside, out of the rain.” He insisted.
“Just let me have the results.” She put her hand out and he gave her the labs reports.
“If you have any questions call me later. I gotta go,” he said. There were people starting to come in and he felt unusually uncomfortable to the beautiful grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith. “What’s your real name by the way?”
She didn’t smile. “It’s not a game doctor. This is not a flirtatious meeting or coincidental rendezvous, understand?”
The young doctor had to check his emotions. She was right, he was feeling like this was a scandalous rendezvous and he was rather enjoying himself. He forgot this was a bazaar story about wild DNA and a weird woman. The mysterious excitement was taking him into a fantasy of types.
“You’ll need to watch your pheromones, doctor. This is serious. By the way, did you draw your labs?” She raised a doubting eyebrow at him.
“Yes, yes I did.” He retorted. People were coming into the post office. It was 8:05am. “I got to go. Late now. When my labs come in, I’ll call you.” He left in the rain from the front door and followed his path to the store and then his car. As far as he knew, no one saw him. He felt sneaky and ashamed for feeling flirtatious, for enjoying a life of increased adrenalin. He never felt that way before…
The young doctor went about his work and social functions and left the flirtatious misinterpretations behind. After all, Mrs. Smith was a grandmother and not a normal stereotypical woman who would be considered as a rendezvous for a primary care physician. So, he carried on as usual.
The grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith was about the business as usual, too. Only hers were menial and mundane while in the office. However, after 5pm, it was the usual adrenalin rush she had experienced since she was a child. Once in a while they would visit her at night. The clock usually said 3am or close. They were not consistently on time, but they gave a few minutes on either side of 3. However, she was older now and their visitation numbers and times to visit were fewer, thank God. She did believe in God or a supreme power. She had to believe because something always saved her from their grip.
It was for the reason of monetary purpose that the informant did astrological forecast for extra money and for the fact she loved astrology. She finished a woman’s chart who lived in Oregon and noticed intently that this woman had similar coordinates as herself. It was later in central time as Oregon so she called the woman for clarification. The phone rang and the woman picked up.
“Hello,” she said.
“Yes, hello,” the informant had a Southern drawl from being and living in The Bible Belt for so long. “This is Lottie the astrologer and I need to clarify your information, is now a good time?”
“Oh yes! Now is great.” The woman answered.
There are unusual themes in your astrological readings and I need to verify your birthdate and time of birth Is it 1952? And, were you born at 7:58Am in Portland, Oregon?” Lottie asked.
“Yes, that is correct.” The woman replied.
“Okay, good. So, I want to explain that in 1952, October 10th, The Constellation Ophiochus was arising in the Eastern sky. This is rare to occur and we know the zodiac has 12 houses, but in your case 13… Lottie waits for a response.
“Very insightful,” the woman replies. “Do go into more of this. I’ve never heard of a 13th house in The Zodiac.”
“Sagittarius is in the twelfth house and is also your ascendant and it is also sitting near the constellation Ophiochus or Asclepius . This would say you are a strong believer in a force much greater than most other men. Your Chiron is also near the ascendant and close to the constellation Asclepius and would indicate you are a healer. Are you a health employee?”
“Yes. I am a nurse.” The woman proudly answered.
“That would explain Ophiochus/Asclepius in your chart on the horizon at the time of your birth,” Lottie explained.
“I’m not aware of that name or custom.” The nurse responded.
“I’ll send it as a text. Look it up. The myth goes like this. The constellation on the horizon at the time of your birth would be in the eastern sky. Asclepius was then coming up or arisen. You could then, identify with the constellation as your birth home if you thought that we are all star children and connected spiritually. It is reported that Ophiochus/Asclepius is your DNA home or where your descendants came. You are from that Constellation and nearest star to you at the time of birth would be the home of the star that your family came. That is where your spirit came from, if you believed that’s a possibility and wanted to know more, there are references to this information.”
The woman closed down. She was somewhat shocked and refuting the ideas. “Oh, that’s silliness,” she responded and laughed. “That’s not feasible. No, can’t go there. I’m Christian and star children and aliens are not anything that I take any part of. Astrology is just fun. That’s why I did this reading with you. Can’t do the other.”
Lottie shut down, also. “Well, if you need me for future reading please contact me. You now have my number. She realized that she wasn’t going there and wasn’t interested. Perhaps frightened by the idea that we came from alien life forms.
“Well, good night Lottie,” she said her goodbyes.
“Goodnight.” And, Lottie hung up disappointed because the woman was clueless. She saw no reason to forward the woman any further any information.
Lottie, Mrs. Smith or the female informant sat on the couch thinking about the phone call with the woman in Portland. Recollecting their conversation it provoked dismay and anger because the woman said that her astrological read was indeed, “A joke between Christian friends who chose the same birthday and decided together to do a test. They would send the same birth information to three of four astrologers to see if they all came up with the same natal horoscope.”
Lottie had explained to the woman, “I don’t use computer generated charts and interpretations. My interpretations are original and I personally sift through the data the information provided.”
This didn’t impress the woman in Portland. The woman was certain that all of the reports were simply conjured from “a demon.”
Lottie was disappointed, but she went on and gave it any more thoughts.
The thunder came again. Lottie lost power in her home. She lit candles. It was soon to be her birthday. She too was from Asclepius. It was on the eastern horizon at the time of her birth.
She thought about the doctor and his birthday. “Could his birthday say the same. How could I get his birth information without seeming bizarre? After all, the doctor was living in The Bible Belt and he may hold the same belief system as the woman in Portland? Well, he already thinks I’m bizarre enough. It can’t hurt anymore to ask.”
The thunder boomed overhead. It shook the house. I hate nights like this.
Lottie hated nights like this one because they, whomever they are, would sometimes pay her a visit and since she was on a quest to find information and other human victims were more than likely angry with her. For these reasons she feared they would come, Lottie expected them soon, possibly tonight. There was no absolute telling about their arrival except it would be between 2 and 3AM.
Lotto’s adrenalin was high. She felt it rising. She had to work in the morning and knew with her norepinephrine this high, sleep would be hard to fall into. She took a Xanax and used the dose by a half.
She marveled at the coincidence of having an appointment with the young doctor. The previous doctor moved out of town and for this reason she was absorbed into the new young doctors patient list. The first appointment two years prior she had with him was normal, and without any odd or strange feelings. He was a doctor and there was no signs or odd occurrences that pointed to any connections with him. Lottie thought about the first time she had an eyebrow raising experience with him.
It was when she had her second appointment to see him. He neared her to listen to her chest, suddenly a vibrational shock happened, they both felt and jumped. They blamed it on static electricity. However, Lottie saw it differently, but she drew no conclusions or conjured anything from her imagination. But he had something else that captivated her. His eyes. They were blue and sometimes green and the pupils changed rapidly. The way he glanced at her for a split second, his pupils and her own met. It was hard to explain to a normal person. It was not flirtatious or romantic by any means. No, it was like two railcars latching together conjoining to become one. Clink. She felt it. They matched. Another piece of the puzzle had been found. Lottie was certain that the young doctor was the one. Could his birth have the same coordinates as hers and since he was a doctor would certainly be interesting to investigate. If he was also born with Ophiochus on the horizon than this could only mean that he is the link, the one person who would help her. After all, he would be helping himself and his children.Asclepius would be his origins. The Serpent Bearer, the healer.
She knew she was imaginative and had to check on occasion, if things were real, or psychotic. Not once had she been diagnosed with psychosis, but when psychologist and doctors examined her, they simply said, “It’s in your imagination. You’re quite creative, aren’t you?”
She had to agree with them on the creative description. That is a fact. She was imaginative, but high levels of norepinephrine could usher epinephrine synergistically. Her mind was going that night, all of the what if’s, could be this or that, and so forth, had her in a whirlwind. The Xanax Thank God was kicking in… Her mind began to slow down and she went to her bedroom, took her clothes off, laid in bed and drifted off to the land of no thoughts or adrenalin. She loved that place.
The thundered rolled all night. Though it was now distant, it still reverberated the small house.
Lottie slept soundly, snoring in and out with the cool breeze of October. Her windows had opened and she was not startled, nor moved. Sleeping as soundly as one could, she had no cares. No lights were on and only shadows from the lightening and trees danced on her walls. This never frightened Lottie as she was use to terrifying images and these were natural and she hadn’t a care about how they played out violent themes on her walls or had ghost faces appearing in the mirages of shadows. The images carried on as she slept undisturbed.
Standing tall, hidden in the corner an entity stood, watching her. No facial expressions it had and time was of no concern by the looks of the thing. Its finger arose from its side cloaked in a black robe and it pointed at the clock. Time stopped then as she slept.
Bright lights everywhere. Not Earthly, by any means, they illuminated the cold metallic room, as she laid on a slate slab. Cold with vapor rising, humidifying the room, Lottie opened her eyes. She knew this place all too well, it was a place of torture and a place of hell. She screamed, “NO!” Paralyzed without restraints, as usual, and her mouth muzzled by invisible sources, her screams were not heard by anyone or anything. She hoped God heard her and would send angels to free her. Eyes were wide open, breathing in and out through her nose, she looked around as far as her peripheral vision could go, she felt movement, and from ten feet or more she saw shadows.
This time there were no instruments used on her body, no sounds that broke her ear drums, there was filling the space of tall figures of whom she saw no faces. They surrounded the slate slab where she laid, and permeated her body with mental messages. Threatening her to stop her investigations, to stop visits with the doctor. They showed her the room next to her as the walls separating vanished and in the next room were two children. The children of the doctors, lay.
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While dreaming in the midst of a stormy night, booming lights from the electrical bolts slashed dashing across the walls of my bedroom. I hid my eyes from the frightening waring images made from the shadows.
Miserably, I disdained my life and I, thankfully, welcomed sleep. I hated everything that God gave me and the thunderstorm came to punish me. I was certain that His wrath deliberately chastised me. Surely the grim reaper stood close to my bed. I felt his ominousness cold breath. The rumbling thunder and magnetic energy surrounding my lying body, ushered me into a sleeping journey back into time..
When sound asleep, suddenly, I heard in the distance ~ “the sounds of war?” Bombs and the shaking of the tin shelter where I hid crammed with others, whom I didn’t know. Oddly, they knew me, and there we hid tightly pressed together.
“I must have travelled back in time?” I thought.
They spoke in a foreign language. It was Polish. Everything was gray there, including their battle worn faces. The wrinkles bore sad lines of desperation. Their bodies were almost skeletons. And, I wanted to run, but when I started to leap, they held me.
Then, screaming, “no! Let go of me! Please!” I escaped only to see armed men coming my way! I caught my breath. There, in the dark of the night I saw a sign which hung swaying in the freezing rain and blustering wind. The metal sign creaked “Warszawa, 1943.” I knew where I was… The horrors of death were everywhere. Bleakness and freezing weather, trapped innocent victims.
The enemy soldiers started to grab me, but ~
I prayed that God takes me somewhere else other than WWII, Poland.
So, He granted my wish.
Rolling in the dirt, in fear of The Nazi’s, I was thence transported somewhere else in times past. Here the air was humid and the smell of death and blood permeated everywhere. Flies, fleas and moans came from dying men were everywhere.
I heard, “help me. Please, won’t you help?”
A man lay there in the brush. He was in gray and I was in blue. By his side a rebel flag was standing next to his bloody broken body.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” He puzzled at my daze. “Mississippi.” He looked at me as if I was mad and he had disdain on his face, even though he was dying.
So, I reached out to lift him away from the fighting as all good men do. It was then, that I noticed my skin was dark. I was a large Negro man. I, aghast, thought, I’m in trouble now. Here I am, “a colored man,” centered on a battlefield in The Civil War. They will kill me. I will die. Now, more panicked than ever, I surrendered to my fear. How then, my old life seemed kind and benign in comparison to Warsaw and Mississippi.
I petitioned God’s help. “Grant me my own life, once again.” Sobbing from the deepest part of my being, concluded that he did not grant my request.
Then He transported me, again. I found myself sitting on a piano bar singing loudly. There was a sign hanging across the wall of the smoke filled bar. It swayed back and forth as the room seemed to move erratically. The sign said, “Welcome Molly Brown.” The crowd applauded and I smiled, warningly. The spotlights were in my eyes. A second passed. I noticed the calendar displayed on the wall said, “4.15.1912.” Gasping. “I’m on the Titanic.The night it sinks.” I whispered with dread. I knew, soon these lives and Molly Browns would be recorded in history. They were unaware and I was petrified. The iceberg floats before us. It will sink this ship and most of the applauders will soon die. Mortified of knowing the fate, I froze.
If I could change the course of history in Warsaw, the battlefield in The South, and on The Titanic, I would. If there wasn’t any goodness within me, then my travels changed me. All three places taught lessons: thankfulness, empathy and compassion. “God, I know, I understand. I’ve been selfish and unappreciative of the mundane circumstances in my “pathetic” life. I’ve been blessed all along and so ignorant.
With the final confession, I awakened in my own skin. It was my room and correct time…
My worldly travels were enlightening and my lesson? i will not murmur, grumble nor whine ever again.
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IT was summer of 1976, The Bicentennial year of America (USA) that I walked the tarmac at Walker’s Key Bahamas with Janie’s Crazy Salt in my back pocket. Growing from the grass that lined the tarmac were wild tomatoes. Plucking a few and salting them, we gobbled the delightful little mattoe’s up. Oh, those were warm kind and innocent days, so it seems now.
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It all flowed together so smoothly. Like a perfect image, of a handsome desirable home, with a white picket fence surrounding this quaint cottage. Framed with beautiful flowers everywhere ~ so are many stories similar to this one.
This story, is of smoothing things over.
This story speaks of little white lies. Often spoken in humorous tones of voice, one hastily jests ~ Oh, well ~ we all do it. No, big deal.
Then, we mock phrases that aren’t truths either.Hell, it never hurts anyone.
Or, does it?
Yet, the lies presented in a palette of vagueness are simply, tall tales. Non-truths created to cover the picket fence in more, and more white wash.
Layer after layer, white after white, one stroke, each time so delicately brushed, that was, in the beginning. At first, it was whispered. Spoken in deliberate calculated lies as his smile expressed his own pleasure. She didn’t notice his cold blue eyes, his narrow lips that slightly turned up in the corners. if she had seen him, as he truly is, then, she would see his pride. The story of hunting her soul, and the fact, he lived in the home with the blooming flowers, until the colors of their bouquets lost their beauty.
He chased away the bees in his mad jealousy. When the bees disappeared, then he too, only dreamed of the next garden’s odors. The next place to lay his head on a down pillow, and only the best, for it’s season of glory, will also wilt from the rays of the hot summer sun. For fall will come, and coldness of winter is on the horizon.
So, innocent was the white fence in her vain glory she portrayed, to all. The observers watched the paint covering her. She was unaware of truth, throughout the years. They knew her innocent naiveté would one day turn, the unsuspecting, from white into dark grey.
Because ~ after a while, after a time the painter, the creator of the tall tale, wearies. The sociopath is no longer amused by their adrenalin bursts. Their white lies aroused them like a drug, which no longer excites them. So, they become sloppy with their painting of fences. And, soon, their palette, once beautiful, appears, not so pristine, after all.
The passer-by’s notice the cracks left without white-wash and the inconsistency of the painter’s strokes. But, for some reason, they pass by the fence, they keep to their own business, and let the white picket fence, fade to a grey frail border that surrounded a charming cottage. It once bloomed an array of colors with aromatic flowers. Perhaps, they pass, by because their white picket fence rotted, as well, and their flowers had, too, disappeared. The fragrance of the blooms and the honey bees moved to pollinate a new-found quest, a new adventure.
And so, she asks, to whom does the vague ambiguities hurt? The answer is found when examining the fences. But, there hidden in the weeds, see, growing over the top of sour grass seen behind the grey fence is a strong red rose.
Painting by Bojenn
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This was my only “vision,” not a dream, I had ~ 3 years ago. Please, keep in mind I’m sixty-one, and having said this, I’m a big dreamer;
However, I’ve had only
one real vision and this is it.
Right before bedtime, everything is as usual. I climb into bed and before my head hit’s the pillow, suddenly my bedroom is in a deep forest. It is winter and I’m alone. It isn’t cold or hot. The temperature is perfect. The odor was clean and pure. There are no leaves on the trees and everything is grey. The branches seem to have ice crystals dusting the limbs, but I can’t be sure as It is pitch dark and no light from the moon. There is a lights glow. It is unusual. It was not in front of me, but seemed to be over me as I stood. Then suddenly. I was moved forward. I didn’t walk but was moved further into the forest on a disc which I couldn’t see, I assume it was a disc. Still alone. No noise. I listened for a short while, then was moved again deeper into the woods. I heard a water. There was a voice that told me to go look. I walked to a ledge that overlooked a river and a waterfall was in the distance. There was another ridge across from me on two sides. The voice said, “dive into the water.” I said, “no, I can’t, I’m too frightened.” It said, “you must.” It said, “you must trust.” I didn’t do anything, but way away across to the other mountain ledge, I saw a huge city in flames. Then, I saw a monument burn and fall down the side of the slope of the mountain. Next thing I know I was back in my bed. I had not closed my eyes. I was never asleep.
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The path that I followed in the desert dissipated under my feet. Then, three old friends joined my side. Their names:
Faith, Hope and Love. They said, “we will escort you. Do not fear. God is with you in the forest deep and dark. Every man must go alone. You must trust.”
An entity named Trust, took the lead. I began the journey, following it.
The forest was dark and deep and the trees, like all forests, have dead trees that are equally as important which was shown to me. Vastness and the growth gathered together become one place called The Forest. Some trees are young, green and full with several shades of green and some are old and rotten. They serve as homes for the rabbits and raccoons. However, together the enormous group of all types of trees are synergistic and without the totality of the different types: old and young, light green and dark and thick and thin, the forest would not be complete. It seemed they all have a role. None are common, even though, some appear handsome, some grand and some quite irrelevant, all make for what I defined, as Eden. Despite their outward appearance, in totality, they represent the whole called the forest. In The Forest are life lessons.
This is when, I decide to wander into the jungle of trees, so dense. The trees and the thickets called me by name. They knew me. Whispering wisdoms and truths, I can’t resist their call nor the hypnotic beauty they have. I must wander inside. To some who live in the desert, the forest seems mysteriously evil and frightening. But I find it breathtaking, alluring and magnetic. I belong here inside this lushness and greenery. This has always been my home, my roots, my beginning. Again, I am a child that has returned to my origins. Simply, there is no other choice. The heat of the years in the desert caused me to wilt. The forest of lush green life will restore my soul.
The temperature dropped as the shade of the canopy of trees welcomed me back. The coolness of shadows and the humidity embraced my body. Comfortable now, as the parched desert took a toll on my skin. My face shown, in the cool spring water in which I peered, as leather. The sun did what it was suppose to do and cooked the human quest from me. The heat was the “refining fire” that The Bible, explains. Frailty and a withered reflection reflects from the gentle waving cool waters of the spring. I look at myself, in it’s mirror.
The tropical birds flew by my head! “Oh my!” I forgot about them and their array of colors. Greens to match the forest, oranges to show god’s revelations and blues to give inspiration. Smiling at the gift of colors, I moved forward through the limbs and undergrowth.
I came upon ~
The monkeys who did not trust me. So, they watched everything I did; my movements, my glances, my pausing and my nodding of hello to them. They, suspicious of my intentions, good or bad, would find out my purpose. This fact, I knew as they were the guardians of food and accommodation I greeted them honestly with a nod, “hello, I mean no harm.” They let me pass, for now. However, they did not offer me food. They ate the fruit which their many bodies protected. “Food will come later, maybe,” so, I hoped. I was hungry.
The flying creatures of the forest flitted contently from flower to flower, from creek to the water falls splash. Amazed, I stood watching. Delighting, in the beauty and coolness, which those in the desert, so feared. Bending down by the water’s edge, I cupped my hands and drank the fresh cool water. To my surprise, I drank with another animal. It shared. This was the rule of the forest. The rules were not written or displayed. But, the rules were understood within the heart of everything that lived. And, if the rules were not abided by, then, the creature was expelled to the desert with “the humans.“
The humans, I dare say with trembling fear, captured, enslaved, ate and killed them for sport. The humans were considered, the “demons.” The humans are to be feared. And I, a human, in their forest, recognized the fact, I am an intruder. But, they will allow me passage, for a while. I will have to prove my integrity as a creature of God’s. I knew this truth.
Needing a rest, I sat at the edge of a tree’s roots. Before falling soundly into a coma of sleep, I noticed the multi-colored green moss. It was damp, cold and sprung to new life. Small and delicate, the tiny leaves of multi greens invited me to observe it’s world. I looked harder, further, and magnified the mosses world in my imaginations. I saw another place, another home for strange odd life which was microscopic to human vision, but in the forest, I could see the tiny world as alive as my own. “Fascinating.” Much different than my own, but also, dynamic, I saw and watched their world. They moved in a simple method, But it was their own way. There doings was purposeful. They seemed happy, as far as I could tell… After all… I’m not the judge or giver of life.
Submerging then into a deep sleep ~
I’m aware though tired and almost comatosed, a man stands by my side as I sleep. He is familiar. He is a quiet male entity or being. Next to my lying body, he stands with dowsing sticks. I awaken and watch. His sticks circled around and around, then, rested pointing west. With a look to the west, his eyes said, “get up child,” then he pointed and said,. “this way is best.”
This time, I chose not to rebel. The last time I said, “No,” I was his teenage daughter. This time, I will listen. Though he a man of few words, he will show me the right direction. We will not make the same mistake. See, I learned that lesson. I take my nap sack and head west. The father image pointed to the direction that was best for my journey. He said, “you will be safe if you sojourn that way.“
Then, my next snore occurs. ~
There are several dimensions in the forest. This is only two; shown me. The ability to sleep and travel at the same time is possible. In the forest the hidden mysteries are revealed. Truths are given if asked. But, truths are experienced by walking through the forest. To know: is to journey here and face fear and beauty as a warrior princess. He says, “you can do it. Faith is with you. You must follow, Trust and Belief. They will accompany you, even if you return to the desert.”
My understanding that my father image reaffirms, which I already know in my heart, This is what I know:
It is also known that I may return to the desert at any time. The choice is mine. Not, any another’s. No one, makes another do anything. There is no one to blame, there is no control, that I don’t allow. Choices for good are granted with heavenly abodes. Choices for destruction are exiled to the desert. Some wander more than forty years. Forty years is the averaged time to learn life’s hardest lessons. There are familiar lessons passed down for generations. Those lessons last many years. They are the difficult ones. They end when the last student acknowledges the familiar lesson and what was learned by mistakes made. Apologize humbly for all wrong choices. Be a peacemaker. He or she leads the familiar lineage back into Eden. This is our mission if we choose.
Before, I leave Eden, a monkey comes with fruit in it’s hand and offers this to me. He says, mind to mind, telepathically, “here you will need this for your pilgrimage. Eden will be here when you want to return.”
I frantically reply, “Oh, I don’t want to go anywhere else. I want to stay here. Please. Father, Daddy, I am frightened to return to the parched land and dessert. Please, let me stay. “
My father image and the monkey stand together and with kind humility and honesty point the way to my right path. They say, "no, it’s not time. There is more knowledge to gain, more lessons for greater appreciation, more spiritual insight to achieve, You will return one day Until then, we are with you where ever you choose. “
They faded into the morning’s light peeking into my bedroom window. The sun’s light greeted me with, “hello..“
Author Notes Just another very real dream. Please, understand, this dream was symbolic and humans are not “demons.” This is not to be read literally. It is written from the animal kingdom. There are parts of my dream that become relevant and clearer as I write and meditate on the symbolic meaning.Â
Thank you for reading.
Thank you Deloralock at fanart review for your picture which shows the precious animals in the forest.
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Darkness covered the room. Midnight, the chimes from the grandfather clock “dongs.”
The bass dong’s don’t awaken her, but she’s awake expecting them.”It’s’s their time to come.”
Under the covers, she hides.
“Maybe, they won’t notice I’m awake.”
Her eyes are huge and the beats of her heart will surely tell the black cloaked monks, “she’s faking sleep.”
“They come out from the closet. Three of them. Extremely tall. They’re working at something. The covers, their cloaks and the darkness hide their doings.They will peer over my body, looking to see me sleeping. They don’t know everything. But, if I look at them, their red eyes stare. I can’t see a face. They tell me to, ‘shut up.’ Meaness. That’s all I can say. They’re not good.”
*Note from the experienced participate.
“Now I’m 60 years past their visits. However my daughter who’s 32 now, also saw them when she was young and when we visited the home I grew up in, the house my father built.. We drew matching pictures. They were easy to draw as there were no faces, just red glaring mean threatening eyes. My daughter saw more of them as they showed her a horrifying vision of the future. The future looked bleak for the person in the vision. The name of the person is withheld. They threatened her. She had to look. I was too afraid and for many nights when they came, somehow, I climbed from my bed and crawled down the hall to my sister’s room. There I slept in the doorway on the floor. I felt safe.”
“We discussed this matter and drew like scetches, 2 years ago and not a day before.”
Posted from WordPress for Android @copyright 2013 Bonnie Jennings
Posted from WordPress for Android
@copyright 2013 Bonnie Jennings
Sharing means citing,Thank you. I" do the same for you!
The path that I followed in the desert dissipated under my feet. Then, three old friends joined my side. Their names:
Faith, Hope and Love. They said, “we will escort you. Do not fear. God is with you in the forest deep and dark. Every man must go alone. You must trust.”
Trust, another entity, took the lead. I began the journey.
The forest is dark and deep and the trees, which some are dead, vastly grow. Some trees young and some old and some rotten share the space. However, together the enormous group of all types become one. It seemed they all have a role. None are common, even though, some appear handsome, some grand and some quite irrelevant, all are a piece of the puzzle. Despite their outward appearance, in totality, they represent the whole of this forest. Each are profound.
This is when, I decide to wander deeper into the green forest mystical fog. It seems the woods call me by name and they whisper wisdom and truths. I can’t resist the call nor the hypnotic beauty they pocess. To some in the desert, the forest seems mysteriously evil and frightening. But I, find it breathtaking, alluring and magnetic. I know I belong inside. This is/was my home but, knowing too, I was/am a mere babe, returning to my origins. Simply, there was/is no other choice. The heat of the years cause me to wilt.
And~ (switch to past tense)
The temperature dropped as the shade of the canopy of trees welcomed me back. The coolness of shadows and the humidity embraced my body. Comfortable now, as the parched desert took a toll on my skin. It looked like a saddle and the sun did what it was suppose to do and cooked the frailness of human existence from me. The heat was the “refining fire” that The Bible, explains.
The tropical birds flew by my head! Oh my! I forgot about them and their array of colors. Greens to match the forest, oranges to show god’s royalty and blues to give me inspiration and my own palette of designs. Smiling at the gifts, I pressed forward.
The monkeys did not trust me. So, they watched my movements. Suspicious of my intentions, good or bad, they would find out my purpose. I greeted them honestly with a nod, “hello, I mean no harm.” They let me pass for now. They did not offer me food. They ate the fruit which their many bodies protected. “Food will come later, maybe.”
The flying creatures of the forest flitted contently from flower to flower, from creek to the water falls splash. Amazed, I stood watching. Delighting in that which others in the desert so feared. Bending down by the water’s edge, I cupped my hands and drank the fresh cool water. To my surprise, I drank with another animal. It shared. This was the rule of the forest. The rules were not written or displayed. But, the rules were understood within the heart of everything that lived. And, if the rules were not abided by, then, the creature was expelled to the desert with “the humans.”
The humans, I dare say, captured, enslaved, ate and killed them for sport. The humans were considered, the demons. “The humans are to be feared.” And I, a human in their forest, recognized the fact, I am an intruder. But, they will trust me for a while. I will have to prove my integrity as a creature of God’s.
Needing a rest, I sat at the edge of a tree’s roots. Before falling soundly into a coma of sleep, I noticed the multi-colored green moss. It was damp, cold and sprung to new life. Small and delicate, the tiny leaves of multi greens invited me to observe it’s world. I looked harder, further, and magnified the mosses world in my imaginations. I saw another place, another home for strange odd life. Much different than my own, but also, dynamic, I saw. Then, fast asleep, I submerged.
While sleeping, a man stood by my side. He is familiar. Quiet and male by energy, he stood with dowsing sticks. The sticks circled around and around, then, rested pointing west. With a look to the west, his eyes pointed. “This way is best.” This time, I chose not to rebel. The last time I said, “No,” I was his teenage daughter. This time, I will listen. Though he a man of few words, he will show me the right direction. We will not make the same mistake. See, I learned that lesson. I take my nap sack and head west. Then, my next snore occurs.
There are several dimensions here. This is only two; shown me. The ability to sleep and travel at the same time. Here in The forest, I know this is true and possible. In the forest the hidden mysteries are revealed.
It is also made known, I may return to the desert at any time. The choice mine. No one makes another. There is no one to blame there is no control, by another. Choices for good are here. Choices for destruction are in the desert.
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There is grey found between black and white.
A simple smile between laughter and frowns.
Valley’s separate mountains and and ocean homes.
Peace is midst hate and love.
Resolution and forgiveness create the magic found in sordid facts.
Mankind handed the the plan
To collide the facts
To orchestrate the energies
To direct major empires
Handing one olive branch despite stubborn pride
Yet there still is black and white
Grey is middle ground
Absolute facts in algebra
And God in the breath of life
A breath defies the carbon atom
Who can explain this equation
But man handed the plans
use God’s magic
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