07-07-2025, 02:47 PM
[Author's plea: The following tales, in sequence, can be considered a single thing,if you will... I'm just not good enough to actually write a book... so this is how it comes... I promise a tangible ending sooner, rather than later... and please remember, I'm not a pro.]
I am grateful for your patience...
https://denyignorance.com/Thread-We-re-just-Different
https://denyignorance.com/Thread-Don-t-go-looking
https://denyignorance.com/Thread-Already-too-late
A penultimate chapter,
As a teenager, he had found himself one good friend... one kindred spirit of his youth, with whom he would share these things, always opening with "I'm not asking you to believe this but,..." by the third year of their friendship that always became the 'tell' that something was going to be said that he didn't want to 'argue' about.
This was part of the story he told his friend...
"My great aunt sits on the porch in her rocking chair every night for hours and hours, endlessly repeating the rosary."
He recounted in an exasperated tone... "She's like a million years old... over and over she drones out the words... often mumbling them as if she is so far away in her mind, that can barely make her mouth work... and I get this terrible feeling that she is going to die in that chair. She gets so still that I fear she's gone... Sometimes I get angry at her, and question if she is even thinking about the words she is saying..."
Remembering this was bittersweet, now that he was older, he understood the emotionally stabilizing practice of prayer, and how in many ways, it was very similar to meditation. He remembered his aunt patiently listening to this young man's childish objections, and never sought to confront them... she was a peaceful soul. But as a youngster who had newly found his 'voice' and 'mind' he was terribly and obtusely impatient... he was manifesting his "angry young man," like so many growing boys his age did.
"I got angry and left ... but as I walked off, I looked back and saw one of the "things"... It was almost at the very end of the road onto the property. But it was walking in place... just like it was not getting any traction... but it seemed oblivious to the fact that it was going nowhere... almost as if it were walking on an icy surface against the wind in a cartoon... seemingly clueless that it was failing to move forward... creepy!"
The story stopped there for his friend... that story was enough for that telling... but it wasn't the entire story he eventually recounted to his wife...
The thing seemed to "look" his way and the 'walking' rhythm changed... it stopped walking... he got that feeling that this was going to be 'bad.' No, scratch that.... he suddenly became afraid... it felt like a fear just began ringing in him like a bell.
The thing he saw was not in any way like a person... there was no 'form' like a visible body, although it had some kind of appearance which gave the impression of appendages and a head. It had a diffuse, fuzzy solidity... but it was clear that whatever he was seeing, it was not "really" there... not like a see through mirage or image, but a shaped blind spot... he didn't feel at all that this was something you stand and watch...
He pivoted and bolted... straight into his neighbors pile of old discarded lawn furniture at the end of the driveway, face-first. Some protruding part of a chair or something pierced his face, just under the chin... as he felt the fiery pain begin to radiate he saw the spray of blood over the twisted pile... pivoted back and fell to his knees trying to move away as his reeling senses left him operating on instinct.
He realized almost immediately that the thing seemed to be stopped... he crab-walked backwards turned and sprinted away... chastising himself for not resisting the urge to keep looking back. But the thing just hovered there, sort of dancing... and he felt no longer that it was gazing at him... he realized much later that he had stopped feeling like a target when the creature became distracted...was it the blood? But he was literally covered in it... pouring down his chin, soaking his clothes.
It was years later that the began to suppose that the state of mind of a person seems to engender a drastic effect on these things... these manifestations, creatures..whatever. It was even more years after that the realization dawned that there is an entire ecosystem of these things, and others like them... we have never been alone... not really, because some of these things are not unthinking... he became certain that there is something there expressing some kind of meaning... He was afraid of that idea... because it would affirm his sensing feelings not his own from them... the implications of that were frightening.
"Sweetheart..." He interjected... "I'm sorry... truly." "I wish this wasn't happening..." As he was about to say "I promise I will fix this somehow." She slipped her hands onto both sides of his face and said,"I love you."
It was time.
The horror of his moment was that his daughter had to endure this.
Walking around the house to her room accompanied by a chorus of was feelings of guilt, danger, and inevitability. "But she must learn of this" he thought...
Circumnavigating chairs and pets, weaving his way to her room... he couldn't help it...
He remembered being barely 18 years old... now a man, (if there was ever a moment for an eye roll- that was it) a newly released young introvert into a world which seemed most pleased to meet him, for the most part... Learning of the trends and interests of his new peers, their interest in his... it was a novelty.
He forgot that moving far away to university didn't mean those things were only "back at home."
His character had always been even-keeled, the upper class-men clique adopted him into their social circle, perhaps first as a potential freshman joke, but it never manifested that way. He felt for the first time, socially secure... a stranger in a strange land.
He supposed now that he'd been wallowing in the 'good times,' which explains why he was so shocked when he noticed the thing. The inner alarm of "Shit!' followed the realization that he could be 'calling it out' with that sighting fear effect they seem to emanate. But it didn't flinch, waver, or seem to notice at all.
It was - at the point of this recollection - obviously another "species" or at least it's behavior seemed very different from the "Look at me and I'll rip your eyes out" variety. But at the time,he stood there, trying to hold the attention of a beautiful, if not elusive, girl... trying to accommodate his desperate inner need to keep an eye on this thing. It didn't work... She drifted off, as he panned around...
But again, mind you, this thing didn't move... he wondered if it was affixed in that spot... he thought "uh oh, that can't be good.)
But over the next few minutes it first lifted, as someone was standing, then it drifted with him... and older student, (med school, pre-med?) walked away from the music and it followed....
And he followed it.... embarrassed, compelled, wondering if he was insane or "infected"... but he just couldn't not follow.
It seemed abrupt, the student and the thing stopped... the man reached down under a bush next to the sidewalk, produced a nasty-looking plastic bag which appeared to contain the remains of preserved cat... the man crouched, not even looking around, and began stabbing the cat with a small knife... repeating the words "Bitch, bitch, you bitch."
He remembered closing his mouth, which had been agape. He backed away slowly and as quietly as possible... the thing was just there over and behind the stabbing ... he couldn't help but think it was feeding. There was nothing he could do...
That "Nothing else I could do" never sat well with him. In fact he hated it. His new-found social confidence made him assertive and the fire of the perpetual angry young man as new and vital with him....
The premed student was in the news shortly after... arrested and then quietly 'not at this school' anymore. He never pursued the details because it is always possible that his stupid guilt gland will never let "You could have done something" go. Maybe he needed help... he didn't even try.
Oh yeah, his inner activist shamed him to try going "Hollywood" as he now thinks of it; Lessons learned. But that memory was shunted away as he held onto a mental image....
He thought about the thing hovering there, over that troubled soul. Had it been "hovering?"...
(It's really hard to go with that image... these things seem to be in an invisible traveling sphere or something...)
"I wish I was smarter." He mumbled, as he closed in on her door.
His daughter popped the door open... any other day his inner father would of thought "What don't you want me to see?" But today it didn't even occur to him...
"I'm ready..." she pronounced, almost confidently... and then in short succession... "I mean, ... am I?"
His heart exploded with love and pride. "This one will learn." he thought.
They both cleverly create the illusion of going out to do some chore, and this daughter resenting the task... none of the other kids wanted anything to do with it... situation normal.
"Where are we going?" She asked... adding "Not under the window right?"
"Good instinct... nope... see where the Johnson's moved out? The backyard full of crap? ... That's where were going..."
Dusk had fallen, the neighbors on the opposite side of the house weren't even around, as far as he could tell.
"But why there?" She pressed
"Because that's where we gonna call it out."
I am grateful for your patience...
https://denyignorance.com/Thread-We-re-just-Different
https://denyignorance.com/Thread-Don-t-go-looking
https://denyignorance.com/Thread-Already-too-late
A penultimate chapter,
As a teenager, he had found himself one good friend... one kindred spirit of his youth, with whom he would share these things, always opening with "I'm not asking you to believe this but,..." by the third year of their friendship that always became the 'tell' that something was going to be said that he didn't want to 'argue' about.
This was part of the story he told his friend...
"My great aunt sits on the porch in her rocking chair every night for hours and hours, endlessly repeating the rosary."
He recounted in an exasperated tone... "She's like a million years old... over and over she drones out the words... often mumbling them as if she is so far away in her mind, that can barely make her mouth work... and I get this terrible feeling that she is going to die in that chair. She gets so still that I fear she's gone... Sometimes I get angry at her, and question if she is even thinking about the words she is saying..."
Remembering this was bittersweet, now that he was older, he understood the emotionally stabilizing practice of prayer, and how in many ways, it was very similar to meditation. He remembered his aunt patiently listening to this young man's childish objections, and never sought to confront them... she was a peaceful soul. But as a youngster who had newly found his 'voice' and 'mind' he was terribly and obtusely impatient... he was manifesting his "angry young man," like so many growing boys his age did.
"I got angry and left ... but as I walked off, I looked back and saw one of the "things"... It was almost at the very end of the road onto the property. But it was walking in place... just like it was not getting any traction... but it seemed oblivious to the fact that it was going nowhere... almost as if it were walking on an icy surface against the wind in a cartoon... seemingly clueless that it was failing to move forward... creepy!"
The story stopped there for his friend... that story was enough for that telling... but it wasn't the entire story he eventually recounted to his wife...
The thing seemed to "look" his way and the 'walking' rhythm changed... it stopped walking... he got that feeling that this was going to be 'bad.' No, scratch that.... he suddenly became afraid... it felt like a fear just began ringing in him like a bell.
The thing he saw was not in any way like a person... there was no 'form' like a visible body, although it had some kind of appearance which gave the impression of appendages and a head. It had a diffuse, fuzzy solidity... but it was clear that whatever he was seeing, it was not "really" there... not like a see through mirage or image, but a shaped blind spot... he didn't feel at all that this was something you stand and watch...
He pivoted and bolted... straight into his neighbors pile of old discarded lawn furniture at the end of the driveway, face-first. Some protruding part of a chair or something pierced his face, just under the chin... as he felt the fiery pain begin to radiate he saw the spray of blood over the twisted pile... pivoted back and fell to his knees trying to move away as his reeling senses left him operating on instinct.
He realized almost immediately that the thing seemed to be stopped... he crab-walked backwards turned and sprinted away... chastising himself for not resisting the urge to keep looking back. But the thing just hovered there, sort of dancing... and he felt no longer that it was gazing at him... he realized much later that he had stopped feeling like a target when the creature became distracted...was it the blood? But he was literally covered in it... pouring down his chin, soaking his clothes.
It was years later that the began to suppose that the state of mind of a person seems to engender a drastic effect on these things... these manifestations, creatures..whatever. It was even more years after that the realization dawned that there is an entire ecosystem of these things, and others like them... we have never been alone... not really, because some of these things are not unthinking... he became certain that there is something there expressing some kind of meaning... He was afraid of that idea... because it would affirm his sensing feelings not his own from them... the implications of that were frightening.
"Sweetheart..." He interjected... "I'm sorry... truly." "I wish this wasn't happening..." As he was about to say "I promise I will fix this somehow." She slipped her hands onto both sides of his face and said,"I love you."
It was time.
The horror of his moment was that his daughter had to endure this.
Walking around the house to her room accompanied by a chorus of was feelings of guilt, danger, and inevitability. "But she must learn of this" he thought...
Circumnavigating chairs and pets, weaving his way to her room... he couldn't help it...
He remembered being barely 18 years old... now a man, (if there was ever a moment for an eye roll- that was it) a newly released young introvert into a world which seemed most pleased to meet him, for the most part... Learning of the trends and interests of his new peers, their interest in his... it was a novelty.
He forgot that moving far away to university didn't mean those things were only "back at home."
His character had always been even-keeled, the upper class-men clique adopted him into their social circle, perhaps first as a potential freshman joke, but it never manifested that way. He felt for the first time, socially secure... a stranger in a strange land.
He supposed now that he'd been wallowing in the 'good times,' which explains why he was so shocked when he noticed the thing. The inner alarm of "Shit!' followed the realization that he could be 'calling it out' with that sighting fear effect they seem to emanate. But it didn't flinch, waver, or seem to notice at all.
It was - at the point of this recollection - obviously another "species" or at least it's behavior seemed very different from the "Look at me and I'll rip your eyes out" variety. But at the time,he stood there, trying to hold the attention of a beautiful, if not elusive, girl... trying to accommodate his desperate inner need to keep an eye on this thing. It didn't work... She drifted off, as he panned around...
But again, mind you, this thing didn't move... he wondered if it was affixed in that spot... he thought "uh oh, that can't be good.)
But over the next few minutes it first lifted, as someone was standing, then it drifted with him... and older student, (med school, pre-med?) walked away from the music and it followed....
And he followed it.... embarrassed, compelled, wondering if he was insane or "infected"... but he just couldn't not follow.
It seemed abrupt, the student and the thing stopped... the man reached down under a bush next to the sidewalk, produced a nasty-looking plastic bag which appeared to contain the remains of preserved cat... the man crouched, not even looking around, and began stabbing the cat with a small knife... repeating the words "Bitch, bitch, you bitch."
He remembered closing his mouth, which had been agape. He backed away slowly and as quietly as possible... the thing was just there over and behind the stabbing ... he couldn't help but think it was feeding. There was nothing he could do...
That "Nothing else I could do" never sat well with him. In fact he hated it. His new-found social confidence made him assertive and the fire of the perpetual angry young man as new and vital with him....
The premed student was in the news shortly after... arrested and then quietly 'not at this school' anymore. He never pursued the details because it is always possible that his stupid guilt gland will never let "You could have done something" go. Maybe he needed help... he didn't even try.
Oh yeah, his inner activist shamed him to try going "Hollywood" as he now thinks of it; Lessons learned. But that memory was shunted away as he held onto a mental image....
He thought about the thing hovering there, over that troubled soul. Had it been "hovering?"...
(It's really hard to go with that image... these things seem to be in an invisible traveling sphere or something...)
"I wish I was smarter." He mumbled, as he closed in on her door.
His daughter popped the door open... any other day his inner father would of thought "What don't you want me to see?" But today it didn't even occur to him...
"I'm ready..." she pronounced, almost confidently... and then in short succession... "I mean, ... am I?"
His heart exploded with love and pride. "This one will learn." he thought.
They both cleverly create the illusion of going out to do some chore, and this daughter resenting the task... none of the other kids wanted anything to do with it... situation normal.
"Where are we going?" She asked... adding "Not under the window right?"
"Good instinct... nope... see where the Johnson's moved out? The backyard full of crap? ... That's where were going..."
Dusk had fallen, the neighbors on the opposite side of the house weren't even around, as far as he could tell.
"But why there?" She pressed
"Because that's where we gonna call it out."
