The Call


My past has always been my Past and Present (combined). I’ve never been released from it.  I always thought that I dealt with my pain and abuse in a way that kept me comfortable and sane.  I wrote about it.  To me, it was my way of remembering, confronting, and fighting. With disgust and angst I bashed and battered all the wrong doing to a pulp. Apparently, I thought that I could beat the trauma away, even though it never occurred to me that (IT) kept coming back.  My writing seemed to get more and more distressed.  So much so, that I recently was forced to stop. First, I thought it was just “Writers Block” or me just being too busy.  Then, as the days turned to weeks I began to realize that something else was stopping me from writing.

For the past couple of months, something has called out to me. Something has brought my (past) outright and in my face. Lost letters suddenly appearing in-between the pages of a forgotten journal.  The review of an old manuscript that brought up “old” questions. Strange dreams and even stranger phone calls. New meetings, new people, new advice and viewpoints, and new lessons.

Whatever it was that was beckoning me, demanded my attention. For days, I began reading me.  I read through over 10 complete journals. I read my scribble on loose paper tucked away in drawers. I went through my websites, posts and drafts. My one liners, poetry, and short stories. My rambles, photographs, and even artwork.

What I saw was painfully heart-breaking and tearful. There was a constant, resounding, wailing cry in my writing. I found out was that (I) was sad, angry,  hurt, and bitter. Yet, convincingly content with my feelings. I realized that I  had protected hate within me. Hate became my friend and confidant. Hate was my defender yet my baby.  I even gave it a name (The Jackal) which will be premiering in short-story form hopefully in a couple of days. I became so crafty with my defensive techniques that I honestly believed that I had to nurture my hate to be a complete and whole person.

I’ve always spoke openly about my duality, my personalities (not clinical), my day and night. It has never been a secret about how my life transitions and slips in-between the good and the bad. Actually, I’ve somewhat embraced the differences because I believed that it made me more of an interesting person. But, most importantly this beloved hate of mine, does something simply intriguing to my writing. My hate has given to what I love the most (my work) an undeniable twist.  Therefore, believe me when I say that I have more than a bit of fear now. I’m petrified about what this fast approaching (change) may do to me and my ability to write. Which could be why I’ve ignored (it) for so long.

But, the CALL. This Call wouldn’t wait any longer. In a sense, the Mirror that I had eyed myself in (my Bipolar Mirror/Bipolar Mirror Skits) suddenly crashed and a new one appeared.  This other mirror had been hidden behind the first mirror.  Imagine me.  Imagine this. I freaked out!  WTH! Here, I thought my dress was already hiked and panties proudly displayed. Only to find out that there are ruffles, and layers upon ruffles, slips and petticoats, garters and stockings, layers upon layers before you/I can get to the goodies.

I’ve come face to face with the fact that I have been a hypocrite. Pointing fingers at others and their mess or lack of, just to make “My Mess” more acceptable. Holding on to a dreadful past and saying I’m moving forward because I’m confronting it and knowing with all my soul that I’m lying to myself and everyone else who loves me. I haven’t confronted anything. Because if I truly had, there would be no need nor want to hold on to it. It doesn’t make sense and hasn’t for years.  I’ve written about it often and shamelessly.

The Box  “I know that I am fragile, a bit damaged, cunningly beastly…. but you don’t…You can’t see it. You won’t be able to recognize it, even if you did… by chance… have one unspeakable moment to peer into me…It’s too ghastly and lurid for you to comprehend.

You are too perfect, so perfect to ever know evil; even when your holding it in your hands.

So, put me back… in the box….quick.

Continuum  …”Itching.. I scratch holes in my skin..
twisting and restless..I pick through my flesh
Anxiously, I scrape; (to get the bad out)
but the drips they suckle

Instead, of watching them go hungry..I feed them
Lest, they will I survive.”

I’ve held on to Hate but claimed I wanted Love.  Hate monopolized so much of me that Love would never be able to fit. My life has been a big contradiction and it’s no wonder why I’ve been so confused.

I talk about the Love Movement so much, and how it is fundamental in anything and everything. Yet, I casually brush it away every time it lands on my shoulder.

“The Call” is LOVE.  Love called out to me..and I listened. Not just physically. My soul listened. I heard and felt the sound, clear. Love for me. Love just for me. Not given to me because it’s meant for me to share. I’ve done that. I’ve always given all the love I could hustle up to everyone else. On the surface, that’s what kept me going for all this time. Constantly passing. Passing it on, from hand to hand, project to project, charity to charity. Passing along and making others happy, kept me happy. Only because I felt that it would be selfish and futile to keep some for myself.  My hate and mess could never be conquered; so why bother. I convinced myself that if I ever kept love for myself that it would be “Thievery”. It’s stealing if you take something that you were never meant to have. Giving it all up was the right thing to do.

This time, The Universe,  called out to me. For me to hold on to, for me to keep, for me to heal away the hate; the hate that I thought kept me safe.  LOVE gently and tenderly shooed hate away.  Now, I understand that Love is all I need.  Love without acceptance. I don’t have to welcome the bad as apart of me, because it was bad that was inflicted on to me. I have never been forced to commit. I chose to commit to my hate out of fear. Now, I release it out of love. True love. Love for what brought me here (at this place) and in this state of mind.  Love for the Woman that I am TODAY. But, also love for my past and the girl who was left behind.  Love will tell my story and only with the hopes of retrieving more love…will be my motivation to write it.

Besides, I’ve tried Hate for so long, wouldn’t it be just as sensible to try Love?

My personal affirmations:

Love is my eyes and ears to ward against Hate.. if Hate should ever try to claim another mirror.

I can see myself clearly and without blemish only through the love-filled eyes of the Universe…(I see me just as I am seen)

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Beast of Belly (a feature story in Bi-polar Skits)

Image Credit: Kev Walker

Artist unknown; “Wolf In Sheeps Clothing”

Beast of Belly..a Burden

(Chapter One- Introduction of the Jackal)

He howls loud, especially at night..shouting for release. Yelling to be free.

Pangs and miserable be heard.

Be still Jackal. I have nothing for you today.”

Kicking me with his bent over slate toes..his withering varicose legs; distorted and cadaverous.

With long curled silver nails, he slashes stripes out of my intestines.

Grown accustomed to his pain..I ignore him.

Distressed he pleads..”I wanna get out..Please.

With a spoonful of sugar and the darkest rum, I try to soothe him. But, he forcefully slobbers it out..bubbling the liquor from his blue lips.

Soon after, I run a warm bath of sweet milk and honey, followed by a gentle massage

of Lavender, Juniper Juice and Almond Oil. I had hopes of relaxing him and changing his

mood, but, the ritual seemed to incite his deviance even further.

He flailed and bawled..cringed and grunted. Contemplated and conspired his next move. Childishly, thumping me with his fingers.

Let me out..Bitch!“..he bursts. 

His bloody tongue spitting and squirting diseased lies. Conjuring up horrid tales while holding my ovaries between his teeth..

He gushes…”I’ll do it Bitch..You know I will. I’ll crush em!“..juices swirling between his slurred


Complacent.. I whisper.. “Be quiet Jackal. Not today.”

I stroke and press… delicately; to soothe him.

He whines and bellows..elbowing my sides.. kneeing my navel.

I hate you girl. I fucking hate you.” (with heavy breath)

Alright, Jackal.. I know. Just calm down.” Shh..I hold and rock him….

From each side he bumps.. “Li..aaah!!!”  he screams. “Let me out..Bitch..let me out!” He tantrums and shakes.

I sigh, “Jackal you’re not being fair.. Stop it.”

In the evening, I cook a full meal. Fresh greens, and rich grains. A sweet potato pie topped with

whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles. Red wine and mint garnish.

I served it on my Grandmother’s gold-rimmed china, and the best silver. A beautiful, pink, silk, beaded table napkin rested on my lap.

Eat up’s good.”… I smile.

He groans..and rattles. Every bite I try to feed him..he blows back. I hiccup and burp. Desperately trying to hold the food down.

I fizzle…“Stop it! Jackal, Stop it..your gonna make me sick.”

Inhaling I huff, then return to my meal. Watching the dark sky..and the Ivory Chiffon Curtains vibrate from the open window. Candle wax drips into it’s holder; it’s light beautifully flickering. A peaceful scene. Serene and tranquil.

I raise my fork again.. A small bite I take..

He spews it out..over my chin.

Quickly I wipe, and slam the fork onto the table..

“Dammit Jackal!!! I said not tonight! I just wanted to have a peaceful meal..for once!

I push myself from the table, allowing the pretty napkin to fall. Snatch up the plate and utensils… Drown the candle … then toss everything in the trash.

My stomach ripples and shakes.

Angry and silent. Aggressively panting and perspiring I grab my keys, my purse, a coat, the trash, and out the backdoor I go.

Jackal’s (now) skittish and merry..Clapping his idiotic hands.. 


Fuck YOU Jackal.” I snare.

His heels are pressing into my pelvis.. Upright he stands in me. Straight and Firm. Properly saluting

me, in all too familiar fashion.

I toss the bag into the dumpster. Stomp around to the front. Yank open the car door, drive the car into the garage with door still open.  Pull down the garage door. Lock. Then, head down the road.

My breath is uneasy. I’m jittery and edgy. I tell myself to calm down. I try to slow down my breathing and gather my thoughts, but it’s difficult.

The swirling dust and the cool air ignite me deeper.

Balling my fist..I scream as loud as I can..(Yelling at the stars)

Why is this happening?!

With a deep inhale, I shake my head. Quickly resolving that everything, (all of “this”)…is in-fact “Bull Shit”. Softly muttering, repeatedly.

I can’t eat, sleep, or be still. I’ll never be at peace. I hate it.”

My lips perch..and anger turns into frustration. I’m frustrated with Jackal for not compromising. For not seeing things my way. For ALWAYS getting what he wants!

Mad I turn inward..

“Ya hate me, Jackal?  Well, I fucking loathe You! I LOATHE you!” My voice grunted deep between the words, almost unrecognizable.

Tickled he smiles. Rubbing my belly from the inside. 

I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you..” he wickedly sings.

He playfully pinches me, distorting his voice to sound just like mine. Mocking me..”I loathe you.” 

Amused…we both laugh.

I get myself together, and pick up the pace; as if aware of my destination. Quickly and swiftly walking.

But, soon I grew tired and muddled.

We stroll for miles. With hesitation and confusion, I linger in the darkness. Aimlessly wandering.

Kicking rocks in my cowgirl boots. Wanting to return home, but knowing that I won’t be able too.

Distraught with what I’ve become but aware of my lack of choice.

I hate this. I really hate this.  But, Jackal’s all I have. I have no one but him.” I whisper between bitten lips.

In comfort, I submit. I breathe. I relax.

Anxiously, he sways. I pat him still. Once again, my baby. My only friend.

“I know where we’ll go!” I smile.

I turn the corner to the bus station.. We take the bus for a couple of blocks and arrive at the subway.

On the train..

He dances and hums. I twirl my hair and wring the sweat from my hands.

He squeals the numbers of stops the train makes…  “1..2..3..4..5..

As I rise..he excitedly bops around in me….6!!!” he yells. “I knew it! I knew it!”

Off..the train, and a skip of a couple blocks we march.

(Chapter 2- The Bar)

Twilight shuffling through the white double doors with the scrawling chipped paint.

Dips and twists and Dally Oh’s..pack the box. Lush Tavern full of spicy spirits

Lavish Bellies Boast

Beast of Belly..a Burden

A trip up on squeaky stool with turned metal and scarlet slashed vinyl

Fogged glasses of Sailor brew and lonesome cherries.

Old smoke a burning…heavy coughs and cruddy cigars

Blackened mirrors, dusty shelves and dark wine.

We sit at the bar..drinking and patiently waiting.A brush on my shoulder and…. “Here we go.

Jackal quietly listens.

“Hey Sweetness..I haven’t seen you in a while.”

 “Hello. Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” I flirt.

Surveying him all over.

It’s him. he’s the one!” Jackal squawks.

“Do you mind?” he motions toward the seat next to me. “No, it’s fine.”

The bartender winks and slides my second drink. “Thanks Harry.” I murmur within my glass.

“Uh..I got it.” Handing his credit card out to Harry. “Alright Man,” yaps Harry, while giving me a side-eye look.

We talk for a while..until Jackal grows restless, and started nudging my sides.

Huu-aaa-ah..” I give out a fake yawn, “Okay. I think I’ll call it a night.” I uneasily rise. Slightly off-balance and slipping off of my seat. Fast, he backs me up and gently anchors me; just like I knew he would.

Mischievously smiling he questions, “I hope you’re not trying to drive? I can take you home, if you like?”

I pretend to hesitate, pausing with a vexed giggle.  “Yeah, that may be best. I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

I flap my wrist at Harry.. He throws the guy my coat..and we stumble out the door.

“I’m parked in the back.” holding me up by my waist. “Your not gonna be sick are ya?” 

I chuckle “Nah, I’m fine. Your not gonna be sick are ya?” (smirking at him)

A Cherry-red Pick-up truck awaits. “Nice truck” I slither. “What’s that you do again?” I ask. “I work in construction.”

“Right.”(flirting). “I guess that makes you pretty strong, hunh?” while squeezing his biceps.

Blushing, he helps me up into the truck..Gently strapping me in.  “Comfy?”

“Yep.. Totally.”

He locks and shuts the door then unlocks and opens the other.

Once seated I watch him.

Nice looking guy. Clean cut and clear complexion. Kinda plain actually. No jewelry

or watch. His knuckles were awfully red, though. A couple of old scars and scratches

up his arm. There doesn’t seem to be any other distinguishable marks. He appears to

keep to himself, neat from hat to were filthy.  But, he’s in Construction..

so I guess that explains it.

     Jackal pokes me.. “You like him?”

Ah..I guess. He’s attractive enough.

I tell him where to go..and he follows, exactly. house is just up that road”..still slurring my words.  “Oh yeah? How long have you lived here?”

“All my life. It was my Great Grandparents house”.

Up the winding road we go.. the wheels popping dust and gravel.

“Wow..this is a lot of land. You live here alone?” I hold Jackal down.. “Yes. I live here alone.”

(He pauses) “Humph. Pretty nice.”

We park..

I almost fall out of the car..just to rouse him a bit. He hurriedly comes to my aid. Up the porch

we climb. He helps me up the stairs and holds me tight.

“Just push the’s open”..

(Chapter 3-Judgment Day)

“You don’t lock your door?”  I laugh drunkenly…  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” he asked; sounding a bit puzzled.

“There’s no need.  No one’s gonna come to [this] house. 

I’ve never had a problem.  I guess people just know not to mess with this old place.” 

Still we enter the foyer.

“Hmm…but aren’t..?”

I interrupt his next question with the sound of one of my boots flailing against the hallway wall.

I kick off the other and toss my coat and purse to the side. Wobbling on tip-toes, I face the steps..

Holding tight to the banister with my left hand, and unzipping the back of my skirt with the right. Carefully, stepping out of it,while heading up the stairs. I feel him watching from the corner of my eye. I peek..”You coming?” and purposefully swing my hair. 

Breathy, he accepts. The wood bends as he climbs. I hear his keys cling in his pocket and the rustle of his jacket, tenderly rubbing under his arm. His jeans are stiff and thick pressing against his knees. His shoes firmly clap as he steps, he sounds Heavy and Strong.

Ahead of him I stay. Dropping clothing for him to follow…Shirt, Bra..Panties..

At the end of the hall I wait…naked and back facing him, standing in the doorway.

Anxious, I perspire. My chest shivers and rises. Within a slight shake and he’s on-top of me. His chin resting on the top of my head. The zipper of his jacket scratches my back.

“Your very beautiful”. “Thank you” I whisper.

He places his hands on top of my wrists..holding them gently to the door posts.

Is this your room?”


“Can we go in?” My tummy rumbles.. “Yes”. He playfully pauses….”Wait, are you hungry?” and kisses my neck.

“Something like that.” I smile

Heavily he presses against me.. His breath is racy. Releasing one of my wrists he pushes open the door.

Sweet scents explode from the room.  Dimly lit by the nights sky. The moon; full and bright. The room; dark and bare. Empty, except for the bed in the center. White bedding and Cherry-wood head-board. Dark chocolate wood floor. Crimson curtains blow in the distance.

“Umph. Simple and Sweet.”. he states.  “Yep.” I agree

Directing me toward the bed..we walk. Holding me by my shoulders and caressing down my arms..”Turn around…I want to see you”. Softly, I say.. “No. I like you here”. “Oh?” he questions. 

“I mean, I like you were you are”..I correct.

“Oh..okay.” He begins to kiss me. My shoulders, my neck and the center of my back. Tenderly, he pecks at my sides..firmly massaging my thighs.  I (remorsefully) crawl on the bed. Laying on my stomach. Resting and relaxing.

He quietly removes his clothes. Neatly placing his shoes together. Folding over his jacket and pants and carefully placing his shirt on top. Starting from my feet and ankles, he rubs up. Deep and firm with whole hands.

     I sigh..and converse with Jackal. 

I like this.  I really like this. He seems nice, now.” Jackal shushes me. “Shut up girl..I cant hear.”

He massages my back. Affectionately, paying attention to every part.   At my neck he nestles; sucking my earlobe then lifting my hair out-of-the-way.  I feel his hesitation..

“What’s this?” slightly raising from me to take a better view.

Dismayed, he dauntingly asks “What happened?”

“Ah”..I exhale. “I was in an accident a few years back. I had to have surgery, and that’s my scar”.

“Wow! don’t mind do you?” gesturing if it’s okay to further inspect.

“No. I don’t mind.”  He further lifts my hair.

“What kind of accident was this? It had to be a very bad one. The scar stretches from the back to the front of your head. With your’s not noticeable.”

Too free and rambling with his words and questions, I grow irritated and bury my face in the bed. 

Oh. I’m sorry.  I don’t want to offend you. It’s just..that..”

I stop him before he continues..”It’s okay. Really. I understand.”

He rubs his finger along the ridges. “Is this metal?”

Yes.” (dryly)

 “Wow..your lucky to be alive.”

“I know. (dryly). He’s starting to piss me off now.

“So did they..”

Look! Can we please get back to where we were before you found the scar? I’ve heard and answered the same questions a thousand times before.”

I uneasily plead..”Please?” while stiffening my body.He leans to the side of me..trying to get a glimpse of my face.. Hovering at my shoulders…

“I’m sorry. Really, I do apologize. I can be an idiot sometimes. Forgive me?”

I turn further away from him and secretly glimmer a smile.

He ducks around me, sheltering me. “You are really pretty, I’ve never met anyone like you.” Jackal coughs and laughs.“Eek..Bullshit. He’s bullshit..Gal.”

“Do it..Do it. Do it!”

I moan, instead of replying to him. Arching and curving my back. My body heats and pulses.   He gently moves with me. I whine more; rolling back and forth against him. Sighing and reveling.

Wow..your getting hot.” excitedly kissing my neck.

My body ecstatically trembles more swiftly.  He tries to move with my pace, but can’t catch up. He wraps his arms around my waist to hold me and pull me closer.

I release more.

“Your skin is so warm..your really heating up!”

Entranced, I could barely hear him. He kept trying to view my face but my movement was making it difficult. My head grew heavy and disjointed. I twisted back and forth, vibrating and shifting. My belly tightened and narrowed. Deeply inside me it tucked. Forcing my breast up and my shoulders back.. I grieved and mumbled. Oozed and uttered. Shuttering inside myself and softly howling.

He tries to grab hold..”Be still. Be still.” he begs.

Frustrated, he forcefully tries to restrain me to enter me.

In the distance I heard him seek…”Are you alright? Hey, what about me? What did you say?

“What the hell is going on?”

     Up me Jackal scurried, scrambling at each side of my breast, whirling through my ribs and into my spine. Hurriedly tumbling about. He whizzed and bustled causing my body to rise and fall in inscrutable ways. Bony lumps poked through my skin. Contracting and constricting simultaneously.

Moans turned to groans.

Passion turned to fear.

Groans soon turned to hollers..

and…Hollers turned to limp prayers….

 “Our Father Who art in heaven hallowed be thy name..thy kingdom come..thy will be…”

     In an instant, out of me he leaped. Jackal climbed into the spaces of the Man’s speech and left his lips dangling.  Each side of the man’s jaw twisted. A slow stream of liquid fell from his eyes, as his pupils stayed locked on me. We watched each other as Jackal riddled his body. Permeating each sector, perforating his pulmonary artery. Sipping from his spleen and chewing on his liver.

     Continuously searching. “Where?..Where?” I hear him call out.

Ducking underneath his left Kidneys. “Where is it? You sick bastard?” He spins around his bladder, up to his large intestine and then around his small intestine..plucking it with his index finger..He sniffs.“Ha!” He snatches another piece of it with his nail. Licks and clicks his tongue. “Yep.”

    Behind his small intestine hid a filthy secret. A war crime long forgotten. A sin he thought he paid for. Vowing never to repeat or speak of the atrocity he committed 20 years ago…he assumed it was over.

He went to church almost every Sunday. He prayed every day. He repented; (he thought). However, each night the ghastly deed would enter his slumber. It’s history and tragedy constantly retold. A haunting of a memory that he had so hoped would end. But, not because of its content, because of his embarrassment. A shameful secret forced to be divulged:

     It was in Mahmudiyah, South of Baghdad, he and five other soldiers were drinking and playing cards at their assigned checkpoint. One soldier spoke of a young Iraqi girl he’d often seen doing chores in a house just up the road. He obsessed over her to the group and boasted of how he’d been hunting her for weeks. He suggested that they should all go have some fun with her. A couple of more swigs..and it was a go.

    In bright desert sun, the team; holding tight to their weapons entered the home. Taking hostage the girl’s family in one room, while raping her in a another. Three of them repeatedly raped and tortured the 14 yr. old girl. In a fog of confusion, Tony contemplated and hesitated on taking part. Yet, he watched. 

    At one point, a comrade asked him to hold her ankles because she was rapidly flailing about. He numbly obliged. Sweaty and sick, endorphin and adrenalin charged, but unconscious he was unable to hear the gunshots in the near bedroom.Too drunk with fear and perversion, he didn’t hear them announce that it was “His turn.”

 “Tony, come on want some of this..?” Unresponsive, he stuck. 

He stood motionless when they shot and killed her. His pupils dilated while he guarded.He fumbled; cautiously backing away as kerosene soaked the scene. His face brilliantly Red-Hot from the flames. He oversaw it all with shotgun in hand. Drenched of sweat and blood Tony fled with the rest of the pack.

    He later testified at the civilian trial, that he was traumatized with fear. He was already dealing with the stress of war and death. He explained that he was terrified of his fellow officers. Of course never admitting that he was more fearful of what they would think of him, if he had protested or sought help. 

He told himself, that it was nothing he could do. 

This is war. There’s no discrepancy in war. Is there?” 

Comforted for years with his response; he frequently asserted his self-proclaimed declaration…”It was his duty as a soldier to maintain a violent nature. It is necessary in war.” He assured himself, that once he completed his Military service that he would leave it all behind.

And, he did. He lived a quiet and modest life. Never once in a brawl, a dispute, or ever to lose his temper. Upright and correct. “A Misguided Hero” in the eyes of his Commanding Officers and a Silent Soldier to his country.

    But Jackal knew.  He knew it as soon as we walked into the bar. He sensed it. He called out to the immortality (damnation). He heard the death, lies, and transgression. He found the sin..just like always. Bit by bit Jackal gobbled each morsel of terror. He cringed in delight with every abomination he swallowed.

   Suspended in silence we tracked each other.

His gaze panicked and petrified. Paralyzed and stiff.

Me amazed and torn. Tired of the trauma and being used as the Beast’s portal. There is so much that I’ve seen and been exposed to and there will never be happiness for me. No man is without sin but the weight of judgment is heavy upon me.

A balancing act. I juggle the sins from hand to hand. Jackal weighs them and Jackal convicts.

    At last, he’s finished. Jackal burps loud and cackles as he rises from the man.

   “Here I come, here I come gal!“…he yells, proudly.

My eyes water. Dare I admit that I shed tears. No tears have bled from my eyes, since the accident. Jackal keeps me strong. We do a duty that must be done. No exceptions.

All crimson and grisly..he hangs from the man’s tongue.. He winks, then flies through the parts of my teeth, lovingly patting my cheek before he enters. As soon as he places his feet upon my breath returns. I deeply inhale to help him along the way. Easy he slides and slips into my belly.

    Motionless The Man sits.

I carefully back away from him. Scooting off the bed and unto the floor. I Grab a neatly folded outfit from underneath the bed. Jeans, t-shirt, wind-breaker and sneakers.

Solemnly, I dress myself then redress the Man.

His lifeless body is rigorous but I manage. He stares at me; speechless. His lashes flicker and his eyes stay wide. I’d like to comfort him, but I know I can not. I slightly smile and push him back onto the bed.

     “You’ve been punished for the Sins you committed in Baghdad!” I reassuringly yet assertively say. “You are without a soul, which means you are dead. Shortly, you will regain movement of your body, but it will only last for a brief while. You must do everything that I say to make your transition easier.”

His pupils began to dart.

     “Listen carefully. As soon as you gain strength in your legs you must immediately leave my home. Get in your truck and go!”

I intensely watch him, nodding my head for him to agree.

     “If you do not leave on your own, your time left here will be extremely painful. Your speech is limited so dare not speak of this to anyone.”

His face starts to twitch. Sadly, I view him.

Before I left the room, I bent to whisper in his ear…

    “Such a shame, you were a handsome coward.” I cluck my tongue and utter more…

“But, you’d better RUN…as soon as you can and as FAST as you can. Victimized Souls are known to claim Salvation in this house.”



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