Episode 1

Episode 1

“I had a Good life then”

 

“I’ve had this, voice for as long as I can remember. Its been following me around and i just can’t shake it. Doc, I know you’re just trying to help but I don’t see the point to all this, I’ve told you the story a hundred times over and still you persist on asking for this stupid…ughh!” Josh looks around the room, noticing shades of green and hazel brown, the walls littered with painted trees all in a soft silver tone. It always made him feel slightly at ease being in the forest near his home town so the nature, even if fake nature, made him feel a bit more at home here. “I know your frustrated Joshua but we need to go over this until you understand what you are saying, this memory of yours, lets take it from the top shall we?  This is the only way I can help…and you can help yourself.” Dr. Deumon inclined as he scribbled the pen on a sheet of paper, Josh calls it the Doc’s black book. The candle light flickers as a gentle breeze wisps into the room. The Doctor sees the curtains flurry with the passing of the winds and decides to move to the window to close it up. ” Fine Doc, whatever you say. It started when i was young, very young about five or six….”

 

My mother, she came home from her usual shopping that evening, i remember it as if it where yesterday. She was wearing her yellow dress she always whore on Sundays before we went to church. Father wasnt home yet, he usually took off on the weekends to go fishing or something but he was normally home by now. Mother hadn’t heard from him since he left on friday morning after his night shift however she was still stunting a warm and casual smile, acting as if nothing was wrong. I can’t even remember if we had went to church that day or not but i can clearly remember coming home only to see my fathers, friends car in our driveway. I think his name was Grant, or maybe Garrett, I knew him as uncle Jim, or that’s what mum always called him: “little Jim.” he was waiting on our porch wearing the same old camo baseball hat and his red work shirt but this time he had a sour expression on his face. I always picture him as a jolly, happy to live type but that day, was completely different.

 

I looked over to mum, at first i thought she was happy but then i saw her eyes turn bloodshot red! She slammed the gas and before i knew it our car had jumped over a few brick stairs and crashed into the window, or maybe it was just the small Porcelain angel doll mother had gotten as a gift from Gran? I was like five, you can’t expect me to remember the details here Doc.

 

Josh looked over at Dr. Deumon only to be met with a gaze deprived of any emotion.

 

So anyway Mum gets out of the car yadda yadda, she starts yelling at him about dad and then, then she just collapsed and io remember seeing a flash of white in her hand at the time but, I can’t place what is was.. I unbuckled my seat belt and…

” Hold it! you never mentioned that your mother crashed into your front yard, you always said that she had stopped abruptly in the road, climbed out of the vehicle and confronted him, harshly?”

“Fine, just thought I could have a little fun you know?” he says as he chuckles at the doctor being once again met with silence. Dr. Deumon stood up gently as he took him dark cup of coffee in one hand with his black book in the other; “I’m going out for a smoke now, care to join me Josh? It could get your mind back on track so we can take this seriously again…”

 

To be Continued…

 

 

So what did you guys think… I’ve been trying to write short stories or maybe a short book but always got bored to easily and this is my solution, I don’t know if it will work but lets see if I can write little bits at a time to keep my interests intact? Please show some support if you enjoyed and if you want to see where the story goes from here! Thanks guys and ughh bye.. I guess!?!?

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Story Time with a touch of God?

So for whatever reason you follow my blog page, or even if you don’t, to find some emotion within yourself, whatever that emotion may be…when reading one or more of my posts, poems and more, all I ask is to bare with me in these times. Because as sad and depressing this may sound, you the reader is at the moment more real to me than my own reality. I just want to also thank you for sticking with me if you’ve been following my scriptures for some time, and if your new… welcome my faceless friend.

 

Right, well… If you are religious I want to ask that you either turn away at this point or if you feel up to it embark with me upon a journey that you may not have heard before. a Sort of perspective that may not be apparent to everyone and without further ado please, enjoy-ish….

 

Where to start? Well i guess ill have to go way way back, to when i was but a child not even old enough to grow my first chin hairs. My family was always religious, and i predict they will remain that way at least on my father’s side. I was brought up in a christian home, where both my parents claim to have witnessed miracles themselves, where God saved my mother from jumping of a quite bridge at 2am. to saving my father from having to vacate our home, sell all our belongings and to find us an old tree to sleep under. These occurrences happened far back into the past, to when my mother was still carrying me inside her womb. Yet one thing i have experienced through countless disappointments in Christ is that no matter how many metaphors there may be in the bible or how many stories i can be told about miracles, in the end remain stories. I say this because without experiencing these so-called miracles myself they remain fiction, an image created by my imagination, you see, in the end no matter how many witnesses of miracles I speak to, I will never have any idea as to what they are talking about because of my lack of experience.

 

So back to the story, I was a joyful child. Without worry or regret. Why you may ask? well because I was a christian at one time in my life, I was manipulated to believe things that I have no evidence of, and i suspect i never will have evidence of. So in my own world, oblivious to reality I was…happy… Then one day things changed, subtle at first and later on snowballing into chaos. You see the church i was in, the pastor at the front, giving his speeches was a master of manipulation. My mother at the time was going through a rough patch, she also suffers from countless mental disorders like myself and the cunning church used those inabilities that resided within my mother to convince my father she was unholy…a demon in human form… Needless to say, he was brainwashed enough to believe them, and choose their words over the one he loved most. This predicament almost cost my family dearly, I can still remember the fights they would have each night behind closed doors. They must have actually believed that i was really asleep, I always was a good actor in dire times i guess. Time passed and, my father luckily came too, and we left that Godless place. Ever since then I am unable to see a house of God with the same eyes.

 

I started realizing small hints of manipulation within the churches, things that if you are not careful, you can fall prey to as well. Ever really sat down and thought why? Why do you need to pay a tenth? My reasoning is simple, look at the car the pastor drives… the house he lives in, the jewelry his wife wares ( if he has one). They say its symbolic, a way to give back to God… but where did it come from? Well that’s a history lesson for another day, for now ill give a simple explanation; Roman Catholic Churches, but the trail back doesn’t stop there, ancient Egyptians? How you in those times you had to give an “offering” to merely set foot inside a temple? Maybe even further back? Maybe basic human nature itself? In truth, we are greedy… simply put, we strive to better ourselves and once we have, we look down on others, no matter how many times you may deny it. We turn to religion when we feel heavy with guilt, believing that something beyond our comprehension loves us and forgives us for what we’ve done, even if the victim of our discrimination doesnt. We manipulate to gain favor within others, so that some day we can use our “kindness” against them. We fear death, so its only natural to use our imagination to put our fears to rest, believing that there’s life after life. Who am i to say that there is or isn’t? Again, I have no experience with death so i cannot say what is true and what is false. I am not religious, I think you know that by now if you are still reading this but im am not not religious. I am simply unaffiliated and in a way my view of the world isnt all that much sunshine and rainbows but I truly think that is necessary for us as a whole to learn, by asking questions. I am not telling you to abandon your religion, no… I am simply urging you to think. To not look at the world through a two toned veil, where there is only good and evil. Look at the evil, and see the good and vise versa. Do not allow yourself to fall victim to manipulation of church or temple. Wake up! Think!

 

Why am i saying this all of a sudden? well i visited a church recently, its been a while since i did something like this… and nothings changed. I only wish they would be honest, say the tenth is to further the church, to by yourself new clothes, say its paying for a service… don’t say its the will of God. Be modest, don’t say things like christians are all about saving lives, when you never saved anyone. Dont say that you dont judge because i heard the whispers all around me while i wasnt singing. My scars are MINE and MINE to bare!…and dont look at me and smile, hoping i would sing along….

 

I don’t have a problem with God, I have a problem with His children.

and news flash by the way… don’t ask God for forgiveness, ask the person you’ve sinned against…that way you might save a life….

I have this image burned into my head…. I was sitting there, in the church, watching everyone pay there tenths, smiling. As we drove out of the parking area… i saw a homeless man, no one batted an eye.

 

Thank you…. and if you have questions or want to enlighten me… please don’t be scared to email me at Theswitchesm@gmail.com or R.I.PBlackshe3p@gmail.com

 

 

 

Deep within himself.

“Where am i?”: she said. “This place, an enigma. Ashes of a world long forgotten.” Who is this person? a Boy, with long dark hair, His eyes make the stars fade into the pale lit sky, My last glimpse as my vision darkens.

As my sight returns I see a young boy this time, he’s… different. He’s crying all by himself as i see a motorcar drive away from him in the distance. Before him, an enormous building painted in such boring colors. Small windows close as a zephyr hurls past him. One step and the another as he starts to walk towards the school gates. My memory dissolves into dust. That boy now sits all grown up, staring out far into the world he calls his own. a lonely bench in the courtyard.

a Crackling voice speaks: “Attention students! There Is someone new joining us today, a transfer student from H.S FrackleBerry. He will be joining class C,2. Please show him our best, thank you.” I look back at the boy, he pays the voice no attention and then; “Pst, Mitchel! The guys here  in our class and he’s cute too. I wonder if hes single?”. That would be Katy, the boys best friend and fellow trouble maker. He’s mouth moves but I couldn’t make out the words. Soon the bell rang and all the other students went off to go have lunch with their friends.

The boy and Katy remained in the class room after everyone left. I’ve been with this boy forever and still i don’t know what he thinks about when he’s so distant. Then something happened which I thought was never possible, He came back to reality and stormed out with a fiery rage in his eyes. I look out as he’s window and I see the transfer student having lunch alone on the bench he always stares at. I decide to chase after him.

As i finally caught up to him i see him standing in the hallway that leads out to the courtyard. I walk in front of him only to see him in tears, beads of sweat trickle down his face with his heart pounding out of his chest. He turns away from me and heads back to the class room, yet he’s acting as if nothing happened. He seemed calm as he sits back down in his chair glaring at the new transfer student boy with a strange, loving look in his eyes. I close my eyes, as i felt a deep, burning pain in my heart and as i opened them I was back with the boy in the dead world.

“I thought i saw some one else here? Did you see him?” the boy said.

 

 

Now this was meant for an S.A that i had to write in class today, Yeah I’m back in school Baby! And well, My creativity took control over my restrain. Hope you enjoy, But i have to make alterations to this piece since it exceeds the required limit of words that i am allowed to be use by almost 200!

 

So I’m posting it here, Enjoy! (and for F!@#$% sakes use your imagination please!)

hehe Have a nice day!

and as always!

A’g’Bye!

 

Story Time!

The walking stick

Once upon a time,

A small boy found himself in a dense, dark forest.

He woke up in a forest, as he looked around, having no idea how he got where he was. His car crashed in a tree next to him yet he woke without a scratch. The little lost boy looks around in the darkness, seeing trees and bushes through the dim moonlight. Panicked he starts crying, he feels cold and hungry. Having no one around him he crumbles. This has never happened to him before, he never got lost, he always knew where he was so he never experienced this before. “Help!…Is some-one there? anyone?”

The lost boy finally saw the sunrise. “How long have I been here?” Hungry, tired, cold and scared he musters the courage to get up, to find a way out of this forest. There was no road to been seen. “How did i crash all the way out here? How did i even get out here?” He stands to his feet, inspecting his surroundings more carefully. “a stick?” there before him lay a finely carved wooden walking stick. The engraved patterns seemed cereal and the dark wood was of expert craftsmanship. He knew it was meant for him, trusting his instinct he touches the wooden stick. It feels warm, almost burning he drops it yet he couldn’t stand the cold. Carefully edging forward he takes a second chance, and picks it up once again. This time it wasn’t as warm but still warm enough to keep the cold at bay. He started walking, in what direction? We will never know.

He’s feet where already sore after the first step, he pushes through. He takes another step and slowly the crash site faded from view. He started mummering to himself as his eyes started to tear up, his mind stretched and his stomach pained. No-one knows for how long he walked, almost collapsing with every step when he saw a road! It was a poorly maintained road. The tar started to fade and the potholes lined the road mimicking swiss cheese. His eyes lit up when he saw a sign of civilization, no matter how the road looked.

Next to the road he saw a little abandoned house, and as any human would decided to enter in a rush. “Anyone home?” but there was no answer. The house reeked of the dead, and the windows where all but gone, the ceiling was cracked and there was no power. “Offcourse life wouldn’t give me anything, It fucking hates me!” he yelled. He started to thrash around the rooms looking for something to eat, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a long dead rat. Too hungry to think his teeth dig into the rotten flesh and furs of the deceased animal. He snaps the bones for marrow and even peels the skin tearing the out the brain and other assorted guts to feast on, and when he was done, there was nothing left, NOTHING.

Still hungry, it felt like he didn’t even eat at all. The pain wouldn’t go away and he collapses yet again. The walking stick beside him, his hand accidentally falls upon it and suddenly the hole in his stomach was no more. A small enduring burning, irritating  pain still remained though but it was bearable compared to the pain of before. With his hunger satiated and the pain forgotten of he had no choice but to keep walking again.

Time passes, his lungs burning and his throat dry he pushes through, not giving up as he takes one more step, and another and yet another. Days go by, cold nights and fiery days, his feet bleeding, his lungs burning, his body sore and his stomach empty once again. He begs the walking stick to help him again but this time no answer. Angry and sore he throws the beautiful walking stick into the bushes, never to be seen again. He continues to walk in pain, as in the distance he sees a steep hill, as he gets closer the hill gets steeper and steeper. Almost crying, barely conscious and drowning in pain he finds what little courage he has left and starts climbing the hill. a Day goes by and he still can’t see the top, Alone and hopeless he gives up and falls back down the hill. As he falls he thinks back on his journey, No life before, nothing he could remember but the forest, the road, the shack, the rat and the countless days he spent to get to this hill. He falls faster and faster, as the bottom of the hill comes into sight. Suddenly he tries to grab onto anything, knowing that if he doesn’t he would surely die but there was nothing to hold onto, the tar fell from the road when he griped at the cracks. He yells desperately for help but no-one hears him, no-one was even around. The sudden shiver as he feels his bones rip and tear apart. Still barely alive he glances aside, and next to him…The walking stick.

He can now see himself, his broken body in the middle of the broken road. Angry even in death he collapses next to himself, staring at the walking stick. Time alluded him and soon he forgot that there ever existed such a concept. Having only one thought in his mind: Why him? He finally screams it to the heavens as he suddenly rises like hot air, weighing less that a feather. He rises faster than light itself and he finally reaches the top of the hill and what he saw, drained every ounce of emotion from his lifeless body. A small utopia filled with the most beautiful palm trees and exotic buildings, filled with people who smile every day. Then he saw it, the walking stick once again, next to him at the top of the hill. He asked the walking, knowing nothing would happen; “How far did i climb the hill?” To his surprise the walking stick replied: “farther than you think, a few more steps with closed eyes and you would be standing right here, alive and able be umong them.”

Story time!

!Warning!

This content is extremely Dark and deals with depression, if you suffer from it and is easily triggered or offended. I suggest NOT reading this. If you do however, read until the end! This message may not agree with most but as someone who knows what its like to suffer from depression, self-doubt, self-harm, I know what the therapists want to but cant tell you. I am no expert, i have no physiological training or experience, but this is one of my many true life stories, that might help.

 

Okay so this is mainly made possible because I was inspired by a fellow ummm… blogger? i don’t know what is and isn’t the correct names for certain hobbies now-a-days.

@Realistic beginner

So, where to begin

(at the beginning i F!@#$ guess heheh)

It all started about a year ago. I can vividly remember the discussion i had with a friend of mine, about how i was planning to leave school.

Now now, i don’t mean leave school completely though. See i was planning on redoing what i have come to know as probably the most important year of my entire school history: Gr 9.

now this isn’t a story that many know, and this will be my first time sharing it publicly since i feel more comfortable talking about it.

I was planning to leave school during the final term, whilst exams where taking place. I only had two more exams to go and i would’ve maybe passed. Self-doubt easily overcame me during these critical stages in my life and so i thought that it didn’t matter what i did, I was going to fail the year anyway. I used to be a grade A student, until High school, I fell in with the wrong crowed and slandered my name in the process. I quickly became known as a F rate citizen, the bottom of the barrel type kid. Which i wasn’t, i never really got into any fights, severe vandalism or even disrespected my teachers or interrupt the class. Given i smoke but that’s really all?

So i decided that i would redo Gr 9 at home….          Terrible choice         …..

after i left, I was really excited, something about sticking it to the man, you know but after that rush things got a little out of hand. Now I’ve never had much patients, and I often get short sighted. Not realizing the bigger picture or the mess I’ve gotten myself into. I welcomed the new year with open arms, diving head first into the work. a Few days passed, and then a few more. Soon i came to missing the public school as the walls of my home started creeping closer.(quick note: I suffer from depression and self harm tendencies) Being in this confined space, not having anyone to talk to, no walking up and down; from class to class, i started becoming more and more “grey”. i came to notice that my medication wasn’t working properly anymore, I started having very dark thoughts and falling deeper into that void. Eventually i counted 7 new scares on my left arm from one very sharp razor. The program failed, I Failed. My parents not amused, made a few painfully long weeks hell, and i could understand why… they were arguing about the homeschooling program before i even started, I cost them a lot of money. Yet when they saw the cuts on my arm, all the anger faded away as tears fell from my mothers cheeks. I was moved into a “nearby” mental institution (which i am legally not allowed to talk about) but i can tell you, was a “delightful experience” to say the least.

Fast forward almost a year, with countless therapy sessions and tonnes of mood stabilizers here i am, with no school wanting me and destiny forcing me to either repeat homeschooling or go straight to my last year, and then i can move on to collage. The first thought i had when i heard about homeschooling was that its going to be so easy. No more teachers pets, them picking favorite classes and downright refusing to teach other classes that where considered the rotten bunch. I got really frustrated with them, the teachers and some of my class mates constantly causing trouble. Little did I know……..

 

Regret comes too late and time cannot be undone.

Follow your heart but listen to your mind

See the bigger picture and learn patients

……as i did

and although it doesn’t get better with time

It becomes bearable

and that’s all you can truly hope for.

Seek help, Suicide may be easy but will you regret tying that knot when you hang and  can’t breathe? There is hope, in others, in you…Find your light balance the dark and let your voice be heard.

If you are ever in need of someone to listen and talk to

message me @r.i.pblackshe3p@gmail.com

Special thanks to @Realistic beginner/wordpressblogs. for his inspiring message!