Friday, September 19, 2014

Gypsy Knife

Hello All:
You asked for more Gypsy tales of love and glory. Well I took some time this week to deliver for you. I bring you a brand, new Pias the Gypsy story. If you've been following this series (see the links below) then you know that Pias has been haunting fifteen-year-old Melanie in her dreams. He wants to make her his Gypsy bride, and won't give up.
Gypsy Wife
Today we are invited into Melanie's home where she lives under the cruel reign of her rotten-bitch mother. Melanie hates her mother and for good reason. She just might want to run off with a Gypsy and become his Gypsy bride.
Have a great weekend. The first day of autumn is just around the corner. Be sure to enjoy the weather.
Gypsy Knife
Fifteen-year-old Melanie lives in a giant secluded castle in the middle of a dense forest of gnarly trees that are interwoven by thicket and thorn. Her home is more of a prison. Confined mostly to her third floor bedroom; it doesn't even offer a turret balcony that she can look out of. The only way out of this giant castle is through the front door, and down a long driveway which only leads to a major highway. There are no sidewalks to take to a nearby friend's house and certainly no public park to play at.
Monday through Friday mornings, Melanie can walk to the edge of the driveway where a school bus picks her up and takes her to high school. There she can experience a taste of life outside the prison-like castle where there is only the reign of Mother and Father—especially Mother who is more of an evil overlordess.
In the afternoon, the school bus brings Melanie home where she walks back up the driveway and into the castle-like prison. She opens the heavy door and enters the foyer where she is most often greeted by Mother.
Often is the case when Melanie is interrogated of her day. "How was school?" Mother asks.
"Just fine? Did anything happen?"
"Do you have homework?"
"Say yes!" orders Mother.
"Can I see your school bag?"
Without saying a word and nearly rolling her eyes, Melanie hands the bag over to Mother who quickly opens it on the foyer table. Poor Melanie can't even remove her shoes and jacket while Mother sorts through all the books, papers and schoolwork. She can only stand there and wait for more interrogating while answering as to why she didn't receive a perfect score on some quiz or test.
"Melanie, how did you miss that?"
"I don't know..."
"Well, weren't you paying attention?"
"I just missed it, I guess."
"Well you just can't miss things, Melanie!"
Poor Melanie is hungry and wishes she could simply go into the kitchen and make a snack, maybe listen to music or relax in front of the computer after a long day at school like the other kids. Instead, she lives under the rule of an evil overlordess of a mother who interrogates and badgers her to no end.
"Are you going to be ready for your history test?" asks Mother.
"Say yes!"
"Do you have any other homework?"
"I have some geometry problems to do, and I have to start on a research paper."
"Well, then you better get upstairs and start your homework."
But Melanie has just come home from school. She's tired and hungry; wishes for a small snack as an afternoon pick-me-up. "Can't I go into the kitchen and make a quick snack?" she asks Mother.
"No! Dinner will be in about an hour and half when your father gets home. You can eat, then. In the meantime you need to get upstairs and do your schoolwork. You're a young woman, now, and can certainly exhibit self control."
It was afternoons like this that Melanie hated her mother. Home was definitely a prison and a place where Melanie could not relax and unwind. She stamps her way up the stairs with book bag in hand.
"Lose the attitude!" a warning is shouted from behind.
"Yes Mother!" Melanie slams her bedroom door and drops the book bag on the floor.
Unlike most kids in America, Melanie does not have a normal notebook computer with access to the internet. Oh, she has one that links up to the wireless router in the house. But with the exception of the school's resource website, some educational sites and Wikipedia; she can access nothing entertaining. Poor Melanie doesn't have a Facebook account, Instagram or Twitter. She can't browse the latest videos on You Tube. She can't purchase and download music on ITunes. As for a cell phone; she has only a basic model that allows her to make and receive calls.—no texting! The only connection Melanie has to the outside world is a bedside clock radio in which she can listen to top 40. But really, Mother would prefer that Melanie doesn't do this. Melanie should be studying and doing schoolwork. And when there is free time, Melanie should be practicing her cello.
Perhaps this prison-like world where Melanie lives is the reason why she has been having strange dreams about an older Gypsy man, named Pias, who wishes to make her his young bride. In the last dream, Pias told Melanie a story of a young girl about her age who he abducted and turned into a Gypsy bride. But the marriage went sour which left Pias divorced and lonely.
It was an unhappy Wednesday morning as Melanie was preparing to leave for school. Just then, Mother entered her bedroom.
"I don't think so!" exclaimed Mother. "Change it!"
"What?" asked Melanie with a note of annoyance.
"Your blouse!" clarified Mother. "It reveals your cleavage, and no one wants to see that! That's disgusting!"
"Mother!" Melanie shouted while stamping her foot.
"Change it, now!"
Poor Melanie just wanted to look nice for school. She has a nice pair of breasts and wished for the simple right to have pride in them. But Mother insisted that breasts were to be hidden because they were disgusting. Left with no choice, Melanie changed into a turtle neck shirt and left the house.
She stood at the edge of the driveway, facing the highway, and waited for the school bus. After about five minutes, the familiar yellow bus could be seen rolling in from a distance and up to Melanie's house. When near it flashed the warning lights and opened the stop sign so that motorists would wait until Melanie had loaded and took her seat.
Much to Melanie's surprise, she had a new bus driver who stared and smiled at her as the side door opened. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair, and a matching mustache. His skin was dark Roma olive-color that was beginning to leather and age a bit. And then there were those deeply set eyes that seem to long and hunger for something. He wore loose and baggy clothes that were an odd choice of color with designs that reminded Melanie of something that an Egyptian would wear. The new bus driver was no other than the man who haunted her in her dreams, Pias the Gypsy! At least it looked like him.
"Good morning!" he warmly greeted with a peculiar accent.
Melanie did not answer while passing. She only sat in her usual seat and looked out the window until the bus started to move forward.
Was it really him? Did the creepy Gypsy step out of Melanie's dreams and become her new bus driver? She cautiously looked up towards him just to confirm if this man truly resembled Pias the Gypsy.
The bus driver must have sensed Melanie doing this; for he immediately glanced up in the mirror back at her and smiled. Of course he couldn't maintain eye contact for too long. He was driving a bus, and had to pay attention to the road. But it was no bother for him. With eyes fixed back on the road, he began to sing a peculiar song that was seemingly directed at Melanie. The words were unrecognizable—perhaps they were chanted in some archaic language—but completely understandable by Melanie. It was an old Gypsy song that men of antiquity casually sang when in the presence of a young woman who was being courted. It called to mind that these were the sweet moments; the threshold of a new romance that would grow deep and true.
"This new bus driver is weird." whispered a nearby girl to another.
"I know... he's creepy..."
The new bus driver, who Melanie assumed to be Pias the Gypsy out of her dreams, drove the kids home from school that afternoon. And when he reached Melanie's driveway, he spoke to her before she exited. "So this is your house, huh? You have a beautiful home."
Melanie did not answer. She couldn't get off the bus fast enough. Now Pias the Gypsy knew where she lived. And he was relentless with his chase. He might even trespass on the property and try to appear out of nowhere like he did in Melanie's dreams.
It was another typical afternoon home from school.
"How was school?" Mother asked.
"Just fine? Did anything happen?"
"Do you have homework?"
"Say yes!" ordered Mother.
"Can I see your school bag?"
Twenty minutes later after being interrogated, badgered and scolded by Mother; Melanie was ordered upstairs into her bedroom where she would do her schoolwork and practice her cello. Father wasn't to come home until later that evening around 7:30pm. Dinner would be late. And even though poor Melanie begged for a quick snack from the kitchen, that evil overlordess of a mother denied her the simple right of satisfying hunger.
Today, Melanie was exhausted. She sat down at the bedroom desk, and put her head down for what was supposed to be only for a moment. But she quickly fell into a deep sleep and received another visit from Pias the Gypsy in her dream.
It was as-if he stepped out of the shadow and approached Melanie. "Don't be frightened." reassured Pias. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you. Is that what you are? Are you a frightened, little girl?"
Melanie answered nothing in return.
Pias reached into his back pocket. "I want to show you something—something that you should have and learn how to use." He pulled out a folded knife with thin handle and a blade approximately six inches in length when opened. "It's called a navaja." said Pias. "Some people might call this a Gypsy knife, and for good reason. Every Gypsy is sure to have one of these and learns how to use it. You see; in the Gypsy culture it's necessary to learn how to fight, use force and steal. Stealing and fighting is the way of the Gypsy. We have no real home or real possessions. Our culture goes against what many people deem to be moral and good. So when I was a boy, my father gave me this navaja and taught me how to use it. For many generations, the father passes down the skill of Gypsy knife fighting. It can be considered a rite of passage into manhood. And sometimes even young women learn Gypsy knife fighting. I think you should learn how use this knife so that you feel stronger and more confident."
Suddenly, Melanie felt a strong shake to her body.
"Melanie, wake up!"
It was Mother who was outraged that her daughter had fallen asleep at the desk.
"Oh, I'm sorry." apologized Melanie. "I must have been tired and fell asleep."
Melanie's apology was not accepted. "Did you get any of your homework done?"
"No, I just put my head down for only a moment and fell asleep."
"Well it's 6:30 in the evening." informed Mother. "You were sleeping for a quite a while. Is this what you do when you come home from school? And you didn't get any of your schoolwork done or practice your cello?"
"Mother I was tired. It was an accident. And this is the first time it ever happened."
"Well you can forget about joining us for dinner, tonight. You have a lot of catching up to do. Later I'll bring a cold sandwich up to you and check on where you are at."
Melanie hated her mother, terribly. What she was doing had to be illegal—overworking and starving a child. The words just rolled out of her mouth as-if possessed by pure hatred. "Damn you, Mother! I hate you!"
Mother hauled off and smacked her disrespectful daughter across the face. "How dare you?"
The smack hurt and caused a nasty sting to Melanie's cheek. She put her hand to her cheek and cried.
"How dare you say something like that to me?—you disrespectful child! After all that I do for you..."
Driven by pure rage and hatred, Melanie began to shout. "Mother, I can't take it anymore! You push me too, damned hard. I'm tired and I'm hungry, and you won't let me eat dinner. I hate you! I've always hated you!"
It only resulted in another smack to the face.
Melanie screamed, loud enough for Pias the Gypsy to hear her. Surely he was outside and saw everything. He probably climbed up the tree near her window and was watching, waiting for the moment to dive through the window and rescue her. Pias used to work in the circus and was surely acrobatic. He could dive through the glass window and roll onto the floor where he would spring up in front of that bitch, Mother.
Mother would probably put her hands up in refusal with her usual look of disapproval.
But Pias would wield his Gypsy knife and threaten her with it to show that he meant business. Then Pias would pick up his lovely Melanie and climb out the window, down the tree and escape.
They would run away, together. Melanie would become Pias' gypsy wife, and they would live happily, ever after.
Interesting thing: Melanie was maybe a little nicer to the bus driver the following morning when being picked up for school.
The End

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Ekaterina's Log Cabin in the Woods

Hello All:
For nearly five years I enjoyed a particular area of forest preserve that was quick and easy to access when commuting to work. I would simply pull over onto wayside of the highway, exited my vehicle and hike for about fifteen minutes or so. This is the same area of forest where my nymph friend lives. Occasionally I visit her. Once I even left a cupcake for her.
Two mornings ago I had in mind to enjoy a nice morning hike in this very area of woods. But what was this? Upon pulling my car over onto the wayside, I discovered that a new sign had been installed that read, "No parking anytime."
"What? Since when? Why?" I exclaimed.
The stupid "No Parking" sign was shiny and brand new. It must have been installed within the past few days.
"Well that sucks! How can I get to my favorite place in the woods? How can I visit my nymph friend?" Disgusted I could only drive off. "Well, there's another area of forest that I haven't been to in a while. Maybe I'll go there."
The other forest was a nice change; sort of like seeing an old friend that you haven't seen in a while. I descended a ravine and walked the bank of a creek until reaching the area as shown in the photo. This was taken a couple of years ago through the reflection of a pond.
Suddenly, I discovered what appeared to be a small log-cabin hut made with branches and small logs. Maybe it belonged to a strange, old witch who lived in the forest... someone like my fictional Ekaterina in my Mapleview series.
"You've got to be kidding!" I said out loud. "I've actually found Ekaterina's log cabin?"

You can read all about Ekaterina and her home in the woods in the second book of Amber--sex magick. Oh... and did I say that it's free to download in the major catalogs? Let's enjoy a sample.
Ekaterina's Log Cabin in the Woods
Ekaterina reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the keys needed to unlock the door. For being merely a hut-like cottage in the forest, the building was locked and secured quite well.
The inside of Ekaterina's home was warm and safe from the brutal, Mapleview winter. From what Jim could see while standing at the entrance, the cottage was nothing more than a large kitchen with a smaller room next to it that—as Jim speculated—might have been Ekaterina’s bedroom.
At the center of the kitchen was a potbelly stove. This apparently radiated enough heat to be felt throughout the home. There was a kitchen table constructed with more lumber collected from the forest along with two chairs made with the same. Makeshift shelving that was nothing more than bound lumber was attached to the wall with pots, pans, dishes, glasses and necessary cookware resting on top. There was what appeared to be an antique ice box at the corner of the kitchen. Obviously the cottage had no electricity, and the ice box preserved any perishables of Ekaterina's. Finally, there was a third chair by a window with another forest lumber table at the side. On top were a few old books and an oil lamp.
The afternoon forest light glowed through one of the windows, but was not enough to illuminate the inside of the cottage. Because of this, Ekaterina lit two candles in the kitchen; one on the table and the other on her cupboard shelving. Then she bent down near the potbelly stove for a couple of logs and loaded them in the soon-to-die flames. Within a minute they caught fire; more heat to be enjoyed in the safe cottage on a winter’s afternoon.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

The Dollification of Mrs. Martz

Hello All:
Have you ever experienced a moment of overwhelming sadness, disappointment or outrage; only to forget what thought had caused that particular feeling?
My daughter experienced this the other day. She came into the kitchen and announced, “I was really sad about something, but I forget what it was."
"Oh, try not to worry about it, Honey." I answered. "Sometimes when your guardian angel notices that your thoughts are about to cause some undesired perceptions or actions, he or she throws a brick at your head to make you forget."
You see; a guardian angel knows, precisely, where to throw a brick at your head--just enough to wipe out a bad thought or memory, while at the same time not causing too much damage. Why it happened to me just a moment ago! I had some sad and depressing thought. Then I suddenly wondered what I had thought about to cause that sadness.
"Ah!" I exclaimed. "My guardian angel must have thrown a brick at my head to make me forget. It probably wasn't important, anyway."
If this ever happens to you, it's best not to try and remember--unless you wish for another traumatizing blow from a brick!
I discovered a funny search engine phrase in my blog stats this morning. Someone was looking for pictures of Kim Martz, naked.
I thought to myself, "Hmm... Are they looking for pictures of my fictional character, Kimberly Martz, from the short story, The Dollification of Mrs. Martz?"
It just couldn't be. It had to be only coincidence. But a search online reveals no one by the name of Kim Martz who poses naked. Apparently, people are wondering what my fictional Kimberly Martz looks like in the nude. I'll have to create some artwork in the future for people to enjoy.

Speaking of fictional characters in the nude, I do have a sketch of the naked corpse of Isabelle Dortan from the short story, The Gravedigger's Infatuation. This short story appears in the book Freaked out Horror. I removed the sketch at the last moment out of fear that the book wouldn't be published. But I still have it. Maybe during Halloween week I'll share it with you. Wouldn't you like to see the naked body of the beautiful Isabelle Dortan as she lays in the coffin, dead?
The Dollification of Mrs. Martz
It was a typical, Tuesday morning as Kimberly did her usual weekday routine. Her husband and two children prepared for the day as she made breakfast for the family. And once the hustle and bustle of time-pressed people left, Kimberly planned out her day which would begin with a high-impact walk in the woods. Kimberly Martz was in the best shape of her life, and wouldn’t go a morning without some kind of exercise to burn off those calories from breakfast.
Only a five minute walk through her subdivision brought Kimberly to the entry path of the local forest preserve. Once inside, she enjoyed the rolling hills and steep inclines to add variety and intensity to the exercise. Within minutes, she experienced the mild bliss that most hikers and joggers experience while being alone with nature. Briskly walking along the path in her autumn attire, she was unaware of the danger that lurked some distance ahead.
It was the startling sight of two shadowy apparitions, wearing ski masks that finally signaled the danger. But it was too late; they seized her with overpowering strength while one of them quickly held her mouth to cover the screams. Her extremities were quickly bound by duct tape and her mouth was wrapped as well. Then she was thrown into a large, wooden box with the lid sealed shut.
There was some kind of vehicle, a truck as Kimberly assumed. It must have been hiding in the deep woods, waiting to transport the abductee. It could be heard slowly approaching with the "wub, wub, wub" noise coming from the muffler. The wooden box was lifted and set in the vehicle and then took off. Needless to say, being in the woods made for a very, bumpy ride. Where were they taking the now terrified Kimberly, who was still in shock of her sudden abduction? She had no idea; but as the ride picked up in speed and traveled along smoother roads; Kimberly realized it was a place some distance from the woods.
It was far away from the woods and her neighborhood; she was in that box for a long time, about an hour in her estimation. All the while the anxiety of being confined to such a small place mixed with the fear of wondering how the day would end.
After some time, the truck slowed down and came to an abrupt halt. Then she could hear the sound of the driver and passenger doors slamming shut. Kimberly could feel the box being lifted and then carried up some stairs until set back down on the ground. She assumed they were in a room or some kind of workshop; but what were they going to do with her?
Several minutes later, the top of the box was lifted and overlooking her were two hideous-looking women with the most absurd makeup jobs. As she was lifted and set on a table, she soon realized that the two women were actually people dressed up in doll costumes. Neither of the dolls spoke, but the commanding voice of an unseen woman, some distance from the table, could be heard. "She's perfect! Go ahead and untie her then dollify her."
Kimberly was drawing some conclusions of what it meant to be dollified, but she was not comfortable with what was taking place. Once her legs and arms were unbound, and the tape removed from her mouth; the dolls proceeded to pull down Kimberly's pants, while the other lifted up her sweatshirt.
"Hey! No! No! Get away!" Kimberly kicked the doll that was nearest her feet. Out of nowhere, four men approached the table and held her arms and legs down. Then the woman, who dictated that Kimberly be dollified, walked over and taped her mouth back shut. It was the first time Kimberly got to see the woman behind the commanding voice. She was an older woman, perhaps in her mid 50s, with an elegant appearance that suggested wealth.
"Honey; no, no! Dolls do not talk. Calm down; I am really serious about this. As a doll, you cannot talk or make noise. If you have a hard time following that rule, I will keep the tape on your mouth. Do you want the tape removed?"
Kimberly nodded her head, yes.
"Okay, I'm going to remove it. But you have to cooperate with us and not make any noise or fight. No one is here to hurt you. We are just going to dollify you."
The tape was removed, and the four men released their hold on Kimberly. She realized that fighting was pointless as there were so many of the captors in the room. And further defiance would only result in being held down and tape, once again, applied to her mouth.
The two dolls approached the table and continued to undress Kimberly. Once fully naked; a very, tight corset was uncomfortably pulled over her, almost painfully tight despite her very thin and petite figure. If the tight corset was not enough, she was next outfitted with a rubber-like pair of pants. Looking down towards her feet, she could see it was some sort of flesh-colored skin suit. And before the matching top was applied to her upper-body, she was fitted with breast-forms to make her bust perfect. The flesh-colored, ultra-tight top was stretched over her upper-body so that Kimberly was no longer naked; only appeared, in her imagination, as a doll waiting for clothes. The top of her head and face were soon shrouded with a tight, rubber mask, followed by a wig.
But the dollification process was not over yet! Kimberly was forced into a very, tight dress that snugly fit over her ultra-tight, flesh-colored skin suit. The costume was very warm, and would probably cause her to sweat. Would she dehydrate? How long would she be made to wear this ridiculous costume?
Kimberly announced, "I think I need water."
She was immediately grabbed by the commanding woman. "I said not to talk! Dolls do not talk! I will put the tape on your mouth if needed!"
She concluded this to mean that dolls don't drink water, either. Were they going to permanently make her a doll forever, until she died of starvation and dehydration?
"There, all done. You look beautiful. I think I will call you Daisy."
Daisy? What sort of name was that? Kimberly could see she was wearing a yellow dress, but the name was ridiculous. And Kimberly had short, brown hair; not blonde—as the name, Daisy, suggested.
"Why don't we take you over a mirror so you can see how lovely you are?" The commanding woman led Kimberly over to a mirror where she could see she had a new appearance. She looked like a life-sized doll with rubber skin; long, curly, blonde hair; blue eyes and wearing a tight, yellow dress. She was soon directed to step into a pair of sparkly high-heels.
"Now, let's see Daisy walk around. I bet she's gorgeous when she walks."
Kimberly took a few steps and certainly felt restrained behind her tight wear. But whatever she was doing, the commanding woman seemed delighted as she quickly approached the Daisy-Doll to reassure her of how great she looked.
"You're beautiful!" Kimberly's arms were held out. Her hair was stroked. Her rubber arms were lightly caressed. "Just like a real doll!" The commanding woman gave the Daisy-Doll a gentle squeeze to her firmly-set doll breasts. Kimberly was not comfortable with the assault, but remained still, realizing she had no choice.
The commanding woman walked behind the Daisy-Doll and patted her butt. "Such an adorable, perky little doll-butt; it's nearly lifted in the air!"
Kimberly was next escorted out of the room, through a hallway and down a flight of stairs to a marble-tiled grand entrance. In the grand entrance were several large, wooden boxes that were painted white with flowers, hearts, butterflies and other girly adornments. The fronts of the boxes had see-through plastic which exposed life-sized, living dolls that were just like Kimberly—or the now Daisy. Each box had a name such as Ginger, Bambi, Lilly, Sunshine, Cookie, Robin and an empty box that said Daisy. Needless to say, Daisy was brought over to her box and ordered to get in.
She assumed the position that she saw the other life-sized, living dolls standing in the box. And then she waited for quite a while as she watched people bringing in clothed tables, decorations, hors d' oeuvres, bar for drinks and equipment for music. The aroma of food could be smelled in the air; and despite her very strange ordeal, she was getting hungry. Kimberly hoped that whatever event she was part of, it would allow her to eat. It seemed like a nice party.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Linsey in Spirit

Hello All:
Midlife crisis has officially begun for me... 'er... something like that. At least maybe that's what my kids might have thought yesterday afternoon when I brought home my BMX Redline racing bike and proudly rode through the house on the hardwood floors with it.
"Check it out! I've got a BMX Redline racing bike!" I exclaimed.
“So what's with this bike?” you might ask? “Why do I have it?”
Well, many years ago when my brother worked at a local Schwinn, he assembled this bike for me from spare parts and gave it to me as a birthday present. All in our late teens and early twenties, we were playing with BMX racers and jumping them at the dirt hills. The summer ended, the bike was put in the garage for many years where I totally forgot about it.
"Hey, do you want your bike?" my father asked when visiting this past Labor Day weekend. "If you don't want it, I'm going to throw it out."
"Bike?" I asked. "I have a bike?"
That's when my mother reminded me of the BMX Redline racer that I used many years ago.
I started thinking, "Hey... Yeah, I do want that bike. It's small enough to put in my car and take to the woods to use as a mountain bike. And that's exactly what I did!
For the past two mornings I've been mountain biking through the woods on this little bicycle that looks like something a kid would ride. But looks can be deceiving! This is NOT something that you would give your grammar school aged kid as a starter bike. This is a professional racing bike.
I've had many years experience with biking of all sorts--long distance cruising, mountain biking and BMX jumping. Let me tell you that using a BMX racer as a mountain bike is unlike anything you've ever experienced. They are designed to increase speed very quickly. As seen in the photo (sorry about the graininess; it was still a bit dark when I took it), they are light, small-framed, and have tires with a small diameter. And being that they ride so low to the ground, it's very easy to maneuver any terrain that the wilderness can throw at you. I suppose in the world of mountain biking, using a BMX racer would be considered cheating. You can do things on a racer that would be impossible on a mountain bike.

Are you on your way to work, and wish you could pull over off the highway and do some quick biking in the forest or prairie? A BMX racer might just be the solution for you. Simply lay back the passenger seat, lay down a tarp to prevent mud from ruining the interior of your car, and then thrown the small bike in. It's so easy--less than 20 seconds-- to unload the bike and start tearing down the trail of your choice. And when it's time to leave, simply throw the bike back in your car and resume you commute to work.
Throughout the major catalogs, my Mapleview series is now free. Today we offer an excerpt from the first book in the series, Amber--the death mask. Learn just what this death mask is.

Linsey in Spirit
Amber was getting impatient. When would the moment finally come when she and Michael grew closer together? They shared a destiny; and Amber was to be so much more than a caretaker.
Throughout the days, Michael remained upstairs, behind closed doors in his office. He made phone calls and worked on finances or reports. But there were many hours when non-work related activities were done.
It began by creating what could be considered a death mask of Linsey's statue-head. A thin cloth was placed over Linsey's statue-face so that Plaster of Paris could be applied in the exact same way of creating the original mask.
While doing this, Michael reassured his deceased wife, "Don't worry, Linsey. I'll be extra careful with this... Almost dried, then you can go rest some more."
The second mask would certainly lack the resolution and fine detail of Linsey's original mask. It was only a copy, something to destroy once its purpose had been fulfilled. For you see, Michael could not afford experimenting with Linsey's statue-head while finding the proper flesh-colored paint that would reflect the soft, pink coloring of Linsey's face. When the perfect colors had been found, Michael would finally apply these to Linsey's original statue-head.
The second mask was built up into a full head so that Michael could begin testing various paints. He stood outside on the office balcony, spray painting the copied statue in various places until the perfect blend of sprays produced Linsey's exact coloring.
When the perfect blend had been found, the nerve-racking task of spray painting Linsey's original statue-face underwent. At some point, Michael thought he had ruined his wife's face, forever! The colors weren't blending as well as before, and he nearly broke down in tears. It was pink that needed to be applied first, and then peach. A few layers of spray corrected the original flaw. When fully dried, Linsey's blush was applied. Finally, the work was fully complete; and Michael was satisfied with the result.
It was a Wednesday afternoon at two o’clock, nearly a week before Thanksgiving. Amber and Paulette sat in the family room, watching trashy talk shows that showcased the lives of trailer park America. Trista lay napping on the loveseat.
Michael carefully descended the staircase and into the foyer while carrying Linsey's statue-head. As he approached the family room, Paulette noticed Father and soon the statue-head in his arms. The statue-head was too real! It was so real, in fact, that it looked as though Father had simply decapitated Mother and carried her head into the family room.
Amber, too, noticed Michael entering the family room with his recently completed piece of art. She recognized it as being Linsey and quickly flipped off the TV. His work of Linsey was very important to Michael. Amber wouldn't allow a trashy talk show to highlight the background of Linsey's presence.
Linsey was placed on the side table next to her photo. A candle was lit, and Michael sat down on the sofa beside Linsey. He softly announced, "Finally, Linsey is complete." He combed his fingers through her hair. "Isn't she beautiful? She's with us, but merely sleeping."
Paulette looked upon the statue-head in horror. It radiated the very color of Mother's beautiful face before she had gotten ill. Father truly lost his mind. Why was he tormenting himself and her with a frightfully realistic head of Mother? It sat on the table, and just as Father said, appeared to be merely sleeping. It looked as though at any moment, Mother would open her eyes and speak.
"It's two o’clock in the afternoon." said Michael. "Linsey would always sit in the family room at this time of day with a cup of tea, just watching the scenery outside. If it was a nice day, she would sit outside on the deck. Amber, do you like tea?"
"Yes, I drink it sometimes." She looked upon the man she loved with compassion. There was something important about this moment, Amber knew it. She offered, "Would you like me to brew us some tea?"
Michael was delighted, "Would you? Oh, during this time of year, Linsey enjoyed a cinnamon stick with her tea. Please be sure to bring one."
Amber left the family room for the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she returned with a tray containing a pot of hot water, four cups, four tea bags and cinnamon stick. She set the tray on the coffee table, and then she looked at Paulette. "I thought maybe you would like a cup of tea as well. We'll let it cool off. Oh, I forgot a straw."
Amber opened all four tea bags, set them in the cups and then poured steamy water over the bags until the cups were filled. Then one cinnamon stick was placed into a cup and handed to Michael.
While Amber did this, Paulette noticed for the first time that Amber's long hair was styled very much like Mother’s had been. And it may have been coincidence, but Amber's nurturing, compassionate behavior towards Father was suddenly alarming.
Outside, the cold, autumn air that tossed leaves throughout the yard and gray, overcast skies suggested a day to stay indoors. The candle next to the statue-head provided a warm, peaceful environment along with what was becoming a close-bonded group of people who enjoyed tea.
"Thanksgiving is a week away." said Michael. "Linsey would insist on having Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years here. It was so easy to fly family out here and put them in hotels so they can join us for the elaborate celebration. We've been invited to join family this Thanksgiving, being that Linsey won't be hosting the celebration. It’s so kind and thoughtful of everyone. But I think I want a small celebration this year. Amber, it would mean so much to me if you and Trista would join us for Thanksgiving dinner. Do you have any prior obligations?—family, I'm sure."
“I would love to join you and Paulette for Thanksgiving!” Slowly, but surely, Amber was finding her way into Michael’s heart.
Being that it was Thanksgiving, Michael was sure to take the weekend off from overseeing the business. Throughout the morning and afternoon, he and Amber enjoyed one another's company while cooking those items for Thanksgiving dinner. They laughed together, told brief stories of one another's lives; overall acted like a couple who were falling in love. At some point, Paulette took notice of how happy Father was. Perhaps she was being unfair. Perhaps Amber was the best thing that could have happened to him since Mother died.
And then Amber did the unthinkable. In the heat of the kitchen amidst the smell of turkey, candied yams and pumpkin pie; she set the table for five people. Three place settings were certainly needed for Father, Paulette and Amber. A fourth place setting with a height chair would have been needed for little Trista. Who was the fifth place setting for? Paulette was afraid to find out.
As Father stood, looking out through the family room window, Amber approached and put her hand on his shoulder. "Michael, why don't you have Linsey join us? It's only right."
"Really; would you mind?"
"Of course not. See, I have a place setting for her."
Clearly out of his mind, Father was ecstatic with Amber's offer. "Oh Amber, thank you so much. You don't know how much this means to me." He ran up the flight of stairs and into his bedroom. Moments later, he returned with the realistic statue-head of his late wife, Linsey. "There you go, Linsey. You're still with us, and certainly part of Thanksgiving dinner.” He pushed her plate forward, and gently set Linsey down on the table so that her head faced the table as if anyone else who sat down for dinner.
Amber soon brought a candle to the table to be lit and set next to Linsey.
Linsey often felt that Pinot Grigio went well with Thanksgiving turkey. Of course Michael went into the wine cellar for two bottles and returned. "As you like; Pinot Grigio!" Michael poured a glass for Linsey in addition to three others for himself, Amber and Paulette.
And so as Paulette was wheeled to the table, it was necessary to take sight of the most disturbingly real replica of Mother, who faced everyone at the table. She looked to be merely sleeping with her eyes that could have opened at any second.
Father led the blessing. "It's been a very, sad couple of years for us; the saddest being the recent loss of Linsey..." Father looked at Paulette, "... your mother. But I believe we have much to be thankful for this holiday. All of us are in good health, Paulette has a friend who can take care of her throughout the day; and it feels as though we have new members of the family—Amber and little Trista. Despite our unfortunate loss, we still have much to be thankful for this year!"
Although this was a special holiday dinner along with what was turning into a warm, fuzzy day between her and Michael; Amber hadn't put the duty aside of feeding Paulette first. Mouthfuls of turkey, cranberries and stuffing were nearly forced into Paulette’s mouth; all the while the frightening replica of Mother watched intently from across the table. For so many years the family had visited church every Sunday. But there was a new god in the house, a twisted idol of the woman who had given birth and raised Paulette until her life's end. The new priestess in the house attempted to be an incarnation of the woman this idol represented. With the appearance of the statue’s eyes being closed, the occasional change of lighting that was brought on by dance of the candle flames sometimes made it appear as though Mother had no eyes. During these eerie seconds, Paulette's brain would fill the gap with some missing expression that she assumed Mother would have at the moment.
The thing glared from across the table, "Eat your Thanksgiving dinner, Paulette! That's it; eat every bite of it! Trust the priestess who leads the family into my worship!"
Even Mother had gone mad.

Friday, September 5, 2014

The Cat and the Comet

Hello All:
At this time of year--late summer to about January--we are graced with plenty of meteor showers. Upcoming we have Orionids of October 21st, Leonids of November 16th and 17th, and the Geminids of December 13th. As usual, these showers are promised to put on a spectacular performance.
But if you happen to live in an urban area--even some miles away from the city--meteor showers can be a real let-down. You expect to see beautiful meteors streaking across the sky as seen in photographs. But what is this? You've been up since about 2am and haven't seen one meteor! Yes, meteor showers in urban areas are a major let-down. Did I already say that? Yes I did.
This is what I told my daughter some weeks ago when she was excited about the (then) upcoming Perseids meteor shower on the night of August 12th.
"Honey, we won't see a thing. Trust me, I used to chase those meteor showers when I was younger and just gave up. You need to live far, far away from the city lights to see a spectacular performance. We can give a look, but don't get your hopes up."
It just so happened that it was cloudy that night. Double the disappointment for a girl who wanted to see meteors. But I gave her some hope. I'm not sure why this is, but I also notice that at this time of year it isn't uncommon to actually see single larger meteors streak across the sky in the predawn hours. I promised her that this would be a more reasonable way to catch some meteor action. Yes, in urban areas these can be seen. I see them all the time when driving to work; a large streak of light will trail near the horizon.
"Awe... look at that!" It is truly a magickal sight.
Visually seeing meteors isn't the only way to detect them during a shower. You can also hear their interference as the enter they Earth's atmosphere over FM radio. It's a complicated phenomenon to explain, and even more complicated to set up a deliberate receiver to hear them. But the US Air Force Space Surveillance Radar which was decommissioned for military use, is now being used by You can listen live for meteors that streak through the atmosphere. And just think of how handy this site can be during a meteor shower. Once you get to the page for Space Weather Radio, be sure to click the "Listen" link. You are given a nice sample of what a meteor sounds like.
Have a great weekend. And get up early to maybe catch a meteor in the sky.

The Cat and the Comet
It's been said that animals live in a broader spectrum of reality and can sense things that humans cannot. This is what we are beginning to suspect with the recent strange behavior of our family cat. We attribute it to the comet in the sky that seems to be provoking some undesirable side effects on our poor, feline pet.
It was Sunday evening when the family was returning from the backyard after observing the comet in the night sky. We all marveled at how spectacular the view was in binoculars. We could actually see the comet's nucleus and tail! And upon approaching the house, we couldn't help but notice that our family cat, Dunkin, was staring out the glass patio door and meowing to come outside. It was almost as-if it were a dire emergency for the cat to get out of the house. Of course the outdoors at night is no place for our cat. Being the case, we gently pushed him away with our feet and closed the door behind us.
We sat in the darkened family room for about twenty minutes and discussed our observations of the comet, along with some interesting theories that comets carry particles and even bacteria from faraway planets. As we did this, the sound of a helicopter could be heard from a distance as it gradually approached our house.
Suddenly, the cat jumped up on various ledges of furniture in a complete panic so he could see what was out the windows. He was convinced that something was outside. What didn't help matters was the fact that the helicopter circled our house for about a half an hour. While this happened, our cat produced the most-frightening howls that resembled Bruce Lee's trademarked fighting cat noises. "Woooooaaahhhhhh! Woooooooaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!"
The incident was a bit alarming for the family. We truly felt that the house was under some sort of invasion. It was then that my teenage son suggested the most God-awful possibility. Perhaps the comet carried with it some alien entities that had the ability to telepathically communicate with our cat. They informed our pet that they were soon to arrive. Apparently, the circling helicopter confused the cat and caused him to think that the visitors from the comet were arriving via helicopter. Then again, maybe the helicopter was their spaceship in disguise. At one point I ran into the bedroom closet for my shot gun and returned to the back door. I was so close to running outside and firing at the helicopter.
Eventually the helicopter went away. And just to test if the sound still had the power to terrify our cat; the wife, kids and I loaded helicopter sound effects on our smart phones and began to chase the cat around the house while playing them. At one point we all managed to surround him so that he couldn't escape. All of our phones had helicopter noises coming from them which caused the cat to poise himself in a crouched, fighting position. He looked like a bewildered tiger that was about to attack, but unsure as to what to attack first.
Then my teenage son suggested that maybe the alien entities were using the helicopter sound effects as some sort of radio receiver. As he explained; although the helicopter was gone, the aliens could still communicate with our cat that had fallen under some strange spell of alternate reality framework. It was then that we decided to abort the helicopter experiment and call it a night. We were all tired; and the kids were frightened of going outside where the comet still glowed in the sky.
Throughout the night the cat remained on watch and stared out the windows into the night. He was waiting for something, and fully prepared to do battle if needed. As for me; I was having some very, bizarre dreams—erotic dreams that may very well have caused an episode of nocturnal emission. In one particular dream I lay in bed and cuddled with a life-sized, stuffed toy of a woman's robust buttocks. It kept me safe and warm; gave me nurturing love. It's strange how such a dream could have caused erotic feelings and sensations. I attribute it to the comet in the sky. The aliens must have been doing physiological tests on us in the house throughout the night.
Come morning I did my usual ritual of brushing teeth, shaving and taking a shower. While this happened, the cat meowed and meowed outside the bathroom door to apparently get in. I believe that the aliens from the comet remained in telepathic communication with the cat, and had informed him that they were soon to abduct me while in the shower. For some reason, I believed that the cat was the only person who could save me. I quickly slipped out of the shower to let him in, and then continued with my business while the cat watched me through the glass door. It was imperative that he watch me and make sure that no alien life forms would suddenly materialize in the shower and abduct me.
As the early morning unfolded, the family groomed and dressed; then sat at the breakfast table while discussing the previous evening's strange events. It was then that my teenage son introduced us to the unusual website, It's part of a collection of computer animated artwork. Be sure to have the volume up loud enough so you can hear the peculiar and eerie effect of eternally falling. If listening long enough, you get the feeling that aliens have lowered some sort of portal from the sky and are pulling you up into their spaceship.
We decided at that moment to perform another experiment on the cat. This time we placed him on the center of the kitchen table and then surrounded him with four notebook computers, each logged onto As my son suggested, this might have been a good way to trigger an out-of-body experience on the cat which could confuse the aliens of our location.
For about ten minutes the descending noises howled from the computers. All the while, the cat lay on the center of the table while purring.—of all things!
My teenage son suggested a more serious experiment that involved taking the cat on an elevator and riding up and down for a lengthy period of time with various out-of-body-experience-inducing sounds. And so the family called off work and school on that Monday and head out to the city with the cat. Surely the aliens on the comet tracked our activities from the sky. But we felt safe being that it was daytime.
It was necessary to smuggle the cat into the lobby of the 30 story office building in fear that animals were not allowed. Once on the elevator car, the cat was set on the floor while we rode up and down. While this happened, we played various noises on our phones such as helicopter sound effects, and the sounds of Of course the elevator would stop, occasionally, so passengers could board and ride to their desired floors. We did get some strange looks from people who noticed the cat and noticed that we were playing peculiar sound effects from our phone.
And if we thought that our presence with the cat caused strange looks, we received even stranger looks with my informing them, "We're trying to induce an out-of-body experience for the cat. You see; he's in telepathic communications with aliens on the comet. If we trigger an out-of-body experience, it might trick them into thinking he's at a different location, thereby making it difficult to track us."
After about thirty minutes of this fruitless exercise, my wife began to suffer from motion sickness—elevator vertigo. Apparently the aliens tracked her whereabouts and seized our activity as an opportunity to perform a physiological experiment on her. The activity for the day had to be stopped.
It was a very strange week for us! That comet in the sky caused so much fear and confusion. All we could do was count down the days for it to finally go away.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Psychonaut's Guide to Understanding the Universe

Hello All:
Labor Day has come and gone. I suppose you will be like all the other righteous people in America and obey the news and retail industry, declaring that summer is now over. Beaches and water parks are closed. Malls and shopping centers in your neighborhood have already decorated for autumn with a Halloween-centered theme. As usual, a holiday will be burned out long before the actual day.
It's 90 degrees outside, but turn your air conditioning off. Open the windows just a crack to let what is supposed to be chilled air come in the house. Never mind the late summer heat and humidity. It just takes time for Mother Nature to catch up with the retail industry's order that summer is over. Maybe so she gets the hint, burn some leftover decaying leaves from last year. Get the neighborhood good and smokey, and be sure to wear your long-sleeved shirts with autumn sweaters and boots.
Put a nice hearty chili in the crock pot, and be sure to eat it when it's piping hot. Savor a cup of hot, apple cider. Heck, Starbuck's started offering its pumpkin spice latte in the middle of August! If that isn't enough hint that autumn is here, then what is?
What's that you say? You are not like the rest of the media-brainwashed people who subscribe to the belief that summer is over? Well neither am I! I enjoyed Labor Day weekend, and look forward to autumn. But I'd say here in Chicago that we have several weeks before experiencing weather that is recognizably autumn. If anything, Labor Day weekend should mark the beginning of late summer. You can still go outside with shorts and t-shirts on. You can still go to the beach and work on that tan. And, yes, the weather might still be hot enough to run the air conditioning.
Here at the Literary World of Tom Raimbault, we diligently work on new horror stories to be featured throughout the week of Halloween. We are definitely getting in the spirit of Halloween. As said before, we will celebrate five days--possibly seven days if I choose to extend the literary celebration through the triduum. But once I close the notebook after long hours of writing, I go back to the present where I enjoy late summer.
Don't listen to the retail industry and the news. Live in the present and enjoy the beautiful season of late summer.
The Psychonaut's Guide to Understanding the Universe
Leaving early Saturday morning, it took me a couple hours to reach the Doppler Guru's home located in southern Illinois. I was pressed for time as I had an appointment with my Realtor later that day to list my house for sale. Still, I didn't want my tight schedule to interfere with my interview, so I requested to spend some time with the Doppler Guru during the mid-morning to early afternoon hours.
As planned, I arrived at 10:00am, and the Doppler Guru answered the door in the most obnoxious, orange sun glasses. They immediately became the center of our discussion as he brought me into his study to conduct the interview.
"Have you found that those orange sunglasses are the cure to your Doppler anxieties?" I asked. "Why do you wear those?"
The Doppler Guru informed me that the glasses had nothing to do with Doppler waves. "I've been doing research into color-therapy and the effects that spending time in colored environments have on the mind. There's an actual healing that takes place when using color therapy. Would you like to try?"
I was certainly open to trying this interesting and seemingly harmless experiment that the Doppler Guru was performing. He sat me down in front of a computer screen and began to display colors on the monitor. It looked like a Power Point presentation with slides that were various colors from red, to green, to blue, etc. My instructions were to simply "dial in" to my color for the day -- find what color had a desirable effect.
After a few minutes, I chose a beautiful, emerald green slide.
"Okay... we have a pair of glasses for that color..." The Doppler Guru opened a drawer that had a neatly assorted collection of sunglasses that were various colors. Within moments he pulled out a pair of dark, green sunglasses and told me to put them on. Once the glasses were on, I had to admit that everything was quite groovy. I liked the effect these glasses had while wearing them. I felt like I was in the deep forest. Perhaps this is why I like to go to the woods; maybe I'm craving the color green?
So there we sat in the Doppler Guru's study: him in his pair of obnoxious, orange glasses and I in my obnoxious green glasses -- each of us experiencing our own custom environment.
I needed to get to the point of my interview so I began to work towards the Doppler Effect. "Very interesting effects these glasses and this science of color-therapy has on an individual. But I want to turn our attention towards the traumatic experience you had with Doppler waves. What happened in those days that nearly drove you to a breakdown?"
The Doppler Guru proceeded to tell me a very detailed story of his experience. Fortunately I brought my MP3 player that had about 4 hours of record time. As he went on to say, "Our company was seeing some major turbulence and it was apparent that things were going to change... nobody was sure if it was good or bad. At the same time, both my kids were starting new schools: my oldest at the time was transitioning into the next level of primary school [apparently the school system where he lives breaks down K-4th grade into one school and 5th -6th grade into another?] and my youngest was starting kindergarten. If that wasn't enough, my wife was 3 months pregnant. There was lots of change around me.
Dinner was served at 5:00 each night; and like clockwork, at 5:07pm, the commuter train could be heard blocks away dropping off people for the evening. On one night, the sound of the train approaching disturbed me -- so much in fact that I put down my fork and put my hands to my forehead. My wife asked if I was okay and all I could say was the train was bothering me.
This went on for a few nights and eventually, the room grew silent in anticipation for the train to approach so I could have my anxiety attack as the train passed. For about a week I actually ate dinner for the first 15 minutes with headphones on so the train wouldn't disturb me. But this was absurd, and my youngest daughter was developing a fear of trains thanks to my reaction to the Doppler waves that approaching trains created.
She asked me one night during dinner after a train passed why I was afraid of trains. I was sharp with her and quickly replied that it wasn't the damn train I was afraid of -- it was the Doppler waves.
Now my wife was growing concerned as my kids asked me what Doppler waves were. And this created a lengthy discussion at the dinner table which resulted in my youngest daughter screaming in the night upon hearing a freight train in the distance. She was sure the Doppler waves were going to hurt her. My oldest would wake me up to inform me that an airplane was flying overhead and was wondering what the consequences were for that.
The family was disturbed and I needed to get to the bottom of it. So I took a week off work and spent time at the train station recording the sounds of approaching trains and the Doppler shift from high pitch to low pitch as it passed."
At this point, the Doppler Guru walked over to his stereo and played his collection of train recordings. Some of them were trains recorded up close while others were trains in the distance. We sat there just listening to these trains. I had to admit that sitting in a recliner while wearing groovy, green sunglasses and listening to the Doppler waves of trains was quite a surreal experience for me. But I still didn't get it. For me, a train was peaceful sounding. I'm sure many of the readers have laid awake in bed at night while enjoying the sound of a train in the distance.
The Doppler Guru continued his discussion on the Doppler Effect. "Doppler waves can be characterized by an increase in energy as an object approaches. Everything seems faster and chaotic until the actual moment of passing when you are hit with the true sound wave. The sound pitch drops and everything is calm again.
It's not so much the sound that can be harmful; it's what the sound represents. Some people stand outside of themselves and look for some order in the universe. They seek an oracle that tells them the condition of the universe. And just as things are about to change in your personal universe, things speed up and become chaotic. It's the Doppler effect of the Microcosm and it serves as your personal oracle."
I was impressed with his idea and asked if this was the whole point of his book currently being written.
"Oh no! That's just one chapter in the book. My discussion on the Doppler Effect is only a small portion of the "Psychonaut's Guide to Understanding the Universe".  There's a chapter devoted to color-therapy and a chapter devoted to the cosmic-string connection."
My interest was peaked upon hearing the cosmic string connection.
"That's right Tom; your writing on the Tales of Cosmology discussed cosmic strings"
The Doppler Guru was talking about a theory that is currently only mathematically proven. At the time of the big bang, there was a surplus of remnants created when the universe was only 1-dimensional. These remnants are strings that are as wide as a sub-atomic particle, and millions of light years in length. One meter of a cosmic string would weigh as much as the Earth!
But the Doppler Guru had an interesting twist on the cosmic strings. "If the cosmic string theory is correct, then there are countless of these strings flying around the universe. And chances are these strings enter the Earth's atmosphere and pass through the Earth. Think about it: how can you change the course of something that weighs as much as millions of planets and travels at the speed of light. These cosmic strings are skewing the Earth and skewing people and animals as well. Right now you could have multiple strings piercing through you and traveling at the speed of light. And they wouldn't do any damage because they are only the size of sub-atomic particle."
I quickly interrupted, "I get what you are saying, but wouldn't we be trapped when one of these things are pierced through us. They are, after all, millions of light years in length and weighing more than astronomical amounts. Surely we would be cut if we moved while a cosmic string was traveling through us!"
The Doppler Guru continued his discussion on the cosmic string connection. "Ah, the book addresses this question. Nobody is sure if the cosmic strings remain in us or if they simply pass out of our bodies as we move. In fact, you could be walking through the room and pass through several cosmic strings. Again, these are only strings that are the diameter of a sub-atomic particle. No damage would be done to your body upon being skewed by cosmic string or passing through one. But there is a tremendous affect that occurs when making contact with one of these strings.
Suddenly you notice a shift in energy as the one-dimensional remnant that holds the key to shifting time-space continuum goes through your body. At that same moment there could be hundreds of other people and animals riding this same cosmic string. The string is so long, that it’s possible that an alien on another planet could be riding the same string. Everyone’s thoughts are connected and for a brief moment everyone communes in this "state-of-one" as they ride the same cosmic string.
Have you ever noticed how people drift in and out of your life? It's like they are suddenly there and it seems to be some connection and purpose. It’s the cosmic string connection. Have you ever recalled various times in your life when things had a certain energy or charge to them? Chances are you were crossing through a cosmic string and drawing energy from this 1-dimensional state. It's a very deep chapter in my book and there's a lengthy discussion on them [cosmic strings].
The interview with the Doppler Guru was more than I had bargained for. I went there simply to get his story on his traumatic Doppler Effect experience and ended up with a preview to share with my readers on his up-coming book, “The Psychonaut's Guide to Understanding the Universe”
Before leaving I had lunch with The Doppler Guru and his wife. She made the most interesting meal: sliced Cornish hen sandwiches. Instead of bread for the sandwich, she used waffles, and then sprinkled the top waffle with powdered sugar. Of course we ate with our colored glasses on. I wore the green glasses, the Doppler Guru wore his orange glasses, and his wife wore red glasses.
During lunch, we spoke more about his up-coming book and he re-assured me that there were many more topics covered in his book. He also hinted that this book was going to be part one of a series. His up-coming book may have a sub-title: searching for an oracle.

Monday, September 1, 2014

A Bear Story

Hello All:
I had a strange encounter in the parking lot at work last week. It was afternoon as I walked out to my car and put my things in the trunk. Suddenly, a young professional-appearing woman dressed in nurse's scrubs walked past the passenger side of my car and then circled around to my trunk. She looked at me, cautiously, through her sunglasses and left me with the feeling that she was in need of something.
"Hello!" I greeted.
"Do you stay here?" she asked. At the time I didn't realize that she assumed my large 13 floor office building to be one of the surrounding hotels in the area.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"I'm looking for a place where I can just change my clothes." she explained. "I got my clothes wet, and I just want to change them."
This was my first indication that something wasn't quite right with the woman. Her nurse's scrubs looked completely dry to me. But maybe she meant that they were dirty, and she simply wanted to change out of them.
"Oh, if you go inside the building, there's a restroom on the first floor." I answered.
"What if I wanted a shower?' she further asked.
Now it just so happens that at the office building where I work there is a locker room with showers on the first floor. This small convenience might have been created for business managers or other professional people, who are in transition from traveling long distance on business and need to shower before reporting to work. It might also be convenient for office workers to shower after jogging the many miles of running tracks that weave through the nearby forest preserves.
"Believe it or not, we actually have a locker room with showers on the first floor restrooms." I informed her. "You can go in there, take a shower and change your clothes." After explaining this, I briefly turned my attention to the lunch cooler in my trunk where I pulled out an afternoon fruit and cheese snack to enjoy on the ride home. While doing so, I listened to the woman confide in me her experience in the area.
"Okay... thank you... I just wanted someplace where I can get a quick shower and change out of my wet clothes.  I kept asking people, and everyone here is so mean." She began to snivel and cry behind her sunglasses—a meltdown right in front of a stranger.
"I know, I know..." I agreed while turning around to face her. "People are like that around here." She was right. People aren't very friendly in the area where I work.
But then she said the most bizarre thing. "And everyone I would talk to just assumed that I was a prostitute."
"No, no!" I reassured her. "You just look like someone who is having a bad day. It happens to all of us. Go ahead; use the showers in the first floor restroom and change your clothes."
With that, I was thanked and she walked off.
I reflected on the encounter for some moments while driving down the highway. Part of me actually believed that she was some professional person who worked in the medical field and was simply traveling on business. Maybe she was having a bad day--a business or client meeting that went sour. She still seemed young, and maybe she checked into a nearby tavern to drink away whatever was bothering her. Now she was drunk and an emotional wreck.
Another part of me simply did not trust the woman as I speculated that perhaps she was a prostitute whose gimmick was to ask men for a place to shower and change her clothes. I apparently wasn't getting the hint, so she had to come out and say, "Everyone I talk to thinks I'm a prostitute." She probably expected me to say something to the extent of, "Oh... I'll put you up in a hotel room tonight where you can shower and change your clothes. And I'm sure you wouldn't mind a little intimate company while you unwind for the afternoon... (((WINK-WINK)))"
There was a third part of me who examined the encounter from a most unusual angle. Maybe it was my fictional world bleeding into reality. You see, the initial split second of my encounter, I believed her to be some woman who I hadn't seen--hadn't even thought of in a long time. I remember thinking to myself, "What in the world is she doing here?" The momentary hallucination might have been an alert that I was entering the non-ordinary spirit realm. Some spirit was projecting itself onto the young woman to communicate with me. Regardless of whether or not she was a professional or some prostitute did not matter. The true meaning of the encounter was whatever message the spirit that projected itself onto the woman had for me.
I did a rune cast some hours later while recalling the woman in the parking lot. It was revealed that the encounter was some sort of test. I hope I passed.
A Bear Story
I sure hope the bear that visited us a few years ago is doing okay! I was home alone one Sunday, autumn afternoon while my wife was out shopping for groceries. I looked out our sliding glass door and was delighted to see a beautiful black bear feasting on some shrubs in our backyard.
I was quick to go in the kitchen and rip apart a couple loaves of bread in a large bowl; dump a 2-pound jar of honey all over the bread; then set it outside for the bear that was obviously fattening up for the winter.
It was like he/she knew what I had done and quickly ran to the bowl to scarf up the snack I made.
But then I realized the bear was still hungry so I opened the sliding glass door wide-open and ran to the kitchen to open the refrigerator door. The bear found its way to the refrigerator and began to feast!
"Go ahead bear! Eat up; you need to get ready for winter."
But just then my wife came home and was startled, soon furious, that I had let the bear in to eat all our food. The bear must have sensed her anger and ran out the back door. But before he/she stepped out, the bear turned around and gave me a look, which indicated a return next autumn for my honey-bread snack.