Beliefs, Verbiage We Use, Freedom, Open Your Door

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 🛸

Cat Dubois; Odyssey to Enchantment 

Dust cover

Dust cover being read by Tulika Dugar and Alan Johnson

<a href=”https://youtu.be/mmNJUv-Zf1Q”&gt;

The Hiring; by The CIA By Bonnie Jennings 

The year was 2006 and my son was graduating from Georgia State that had roughly 55,000 students, and by the way, he graduated Magna Cum Laude. He was 0.001% away from a Complete Harvard scholarship. Bragging rights… Only a mother really cares, but the story is heightened by knowing this tidbit.
Back to the CIA and wanting to be hired by the clandestine organization. My son, whom I’ll call code name Crocus, went to the job fair and filled out a CIA application. He heard nothing back and several months passed. His graduation was set for May 2007.
He had a private dorm room. One day, between classes he opens his private door and found a letter addressed to: Christian Anderson. So, he took the letter down to the student mailboxes for “Christian” to pick up.
Later, that letter was under his door again. This went on three times and he always returned it to the student mailboxes.
One of those afternoons Crocus receives a phone call on his personal cell. The conversation:
“Did you get it?
Crocus: “Get what?”
“The letter?”
“What letter?” Crocus was baffled for the utter whispering and the raspy voice.
“The letter with the money?”
“Not sure what you’re talking about.”
They hung up and there was the letter again addressed to Christian Anderson. Crocus took it to The Dean of Students who said, “We don’t have a Christian Anderson in our school.” 55,000 students….
“Okay.” Wondering what he should do with the letter, he opened it. In it he found $5,000.00 from a mosque in Philadelphia. He panicked a little and called mom…
“What should I do?” He asked.
“Take it to the pd now!” I insisted. As 9/11 had not been too long before…
He did and they told him “it is a federal offense to open mail”. They gave him the money and said nothing more. He called mom again. “What should I do?
“Take it to The State Department immediately.”
He did and they said, “Thank you very much.” And that was all. He went on his academic way.
In the middle of the night around 3 am or thereafter, Crocus received a phone call.
“This is your interview with The CIA.”
“Huh?” He said… They talked about whatever and the CIA said we will call you again in the middle of the night, expect your second interview (in a certain amount of days).”
“Okay.”
That call came again and was followed by a rejection letter…
“We regret to inform you… blah, blah, blah…” But, they added, “Volunteer for Americorps.”
He did just that.
From there…. The saga continues…

The Evening Eleanor Arrived By Bonnie Jennings

‘With a radiant warm smile the woman said, “Finally we get to meet. I am Eleanor, Ms. Catherine Dubois. Oh for five-hundred-years, I’ve waited for this moment.”‘

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How Eleanor came to visit me one stormy night is a story that succeeded another story of mystery and intrigue. The story thus became Cat Dubois’ Odyssey to Enchantment.

It was early fall and the first chill came that evening as the sheets of rain fell. Cat starred out the back windows simply mesmerized by the shears of wind and rain. She was cold, lonely and worried. The dreaded fears of the future somehow aligned itself with the deluge of water and her life appeared like the rain that ran off into the creek. Her tears could fill that stream that sat next to the eery woods behind her home. She prayed all the prayers that anyone could. Her Hope dimmed like the candles that burned next to her. And then, the electricity turned off. A transformer must have been hit. She threw a log into the fireplace and poured another glass of Cabernet.

Ka-Boom! The bolts were over her home. Flashes of lights were all around. The electric sky put on a show. A limb snapped in the woods. Wrapping a blanket around herself, she watched outside. She took another sip of the red warming wine. As she started to turn away, something caught her attention. Something unusual was going on back there.

“What’s that?” Cat whispered. There were swirling leaves and lights in the middle of her focus. “What the hell?” She intently stared now. The stirring of wind, leaves and sparks twenty feet from where she stood, caused her to stand back. She came forward and looked again.

“There is a woman,” Cat gasped.

Eleanor’s feet touched the ground in the middle of the puddles. Kaboom’s popped. Her hand grasped an umbrella. The woman didn’t seem a bit concerned about the conditions. She simply walked above the water towards the back porch.

There she shook the umbrella out, then sat it by the back door as it opened mysteriously, and said, “Put some tea on dear. We have work to do.”

Cat’s mouth dropped open, she said, Okay. She couldn’t decide if this event was good or evil; although, the woman was eccentric and that character trait, Cat felt compelled to entertain. She was a bit wary of an English woman. Strangely, She didn’t ring the front doorbell, nor knock like regular people do. She just appeared. Oh Lord, I’ve lost my mind.

The plump woman said to Cat in an old English brogue while standing at the backdoor, “Dear, if you’re going to fight devils, you will need help. Supernatural help. Never fight them alone.” She straightened out her clothes, walked inside and looked for the couch. On it, she plopped. “Get your pen and pad of paper. You’re going to write a story and I’m going to help you.”

Cat having few words ~ said, “All right. I will get them and the tea. What type of tea do you prefer?”

“My own,” and from her tote The woman brought out her stash of herbal delights. “Here smell this one. Get a cup for yourself, as well dear.”

Okay. After all, how do you say no to a delusion that manifested? And so, Cat sat two teacups down on the coffee table. She looked at the woman and paused before speaking, then said, “By the way, my name is Cat. Cat Dubois. What’s yours?”

With a radiant warm smile the woman said, “Finally we get to meet. I am Eleanor, Ms. Catherine Dubois. Oh for five-hundred-years, I’ve waited for this moment.”

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The Abductee Informant

 

 

Your Watchman

 

Sunday afternoon:

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.

 

Chapter 2

Monday

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.

 

 

Chapter 3

Monday Evening:

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.

 

Chapter 4

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? 

Wednesday noon:

“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.

 

Chapter 5

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. 

 

Chapter 6

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…

 

Chapter 7

Almost Fall

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.

 

Chapter 8

Rem Sleeping

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Know What You’re Up To

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I Know

The young woman tells the final story. Her last chapter is complete. 

“Darkness covered the room. At midnight, the chimes from the grandfather clock resounded a deep, “dong, dong, dong, and dong.”
“The clock didn’t awaken me. The chimes never do, but I always expect them, the others, that is. They’re, always, right on time. It’s their, time to come. I sense it. Like an odor, or breeze or an internal alarm that warns me.

Her mature voice shifts. It changes into a young girls. Under the covers, the seven year old hides. She says that she shivers in fear and dread while they, the male beings, occupy her bedroom.

“Maybe, they won’t notice, that I’m awake. They usually don’t, but one night, they might. What then? What should I do?” She asks.

I don’t know what to tell her. I’ve never had them visit. There are no solutions to help her. I wonder if she is being sexually assaulted? I listen, but there is no mention of touching or fondling, not even a kiss. So, I wait. My antenna will know the moment I should question.

Her eyes are huge. I see she is telling the truth.

“The beats of my heart will surely tell the black cloaked monks, I’m faking sleep.” She sighs and looks up at me with the saucer shaped eyes.

“They enter my bedroom, from out of the closet. Twelve, midnight, when the clock dongs, I know, they are coming. The leaves from the forest that surround our home have shimmering grey colors that seem to dance like stick indians on my bedroom walls. The images fervently sway in madness of movements. I know then, to expect, the friars. And, as certain, as fall follows summer, they will come. Three, of them, usually.” She pauses, then`

“Sometimes four, walk out of my closet from behind the doors.” She whispers with downcast eyes when she tells this story.

“They are extremely tall. They’re working doing, something. My bed covers over my head, cloak their activities. 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 no good.”

I look at her. Dumbfounded. Hopelessly, there is nothing, I can say. After the hypnosis session, she passed the polygraph, which she agreed to, and I don’t know how to help her. What can I say? 

Standing up to leave my office, she adds on her way out ~

“Doctor, the last time they tried to visit, I give them this look. They no longer bother me. And, now, that I’ve got their look, they seldom pay me, social calls….”

She gave me a haunting stare that passed through me. 

“Oh, by the way, doctor … you may want to get rid of the grand father clock in your hall. It keeps your children up. They can’t sleep after the gongs at midnight occur.”

What? I look at her, but she has shut the door. After a brief pause, I ran after her, but she was gone. Bewildered by her last comment, I was paralyzed. Fear overtook me, as I saw the same look on my son this morning.