Visions of Gaia and the Green Man ( a story)


the club  –
A few friends kept trying to get me to go to a new dance club with them. Finally I gave in.  I was just sick of them asking, so I decided to play along.
It had to be on a Friday night. Our evening had to begin around  11 pm.  And we had to dress in corsett dresses and stiletto heels.  Each of us in a different colour. Kimmy wore white.  No surprise there. She was the most innocent of us. Tracy wore pink.  She was our princess, so again, no surprise.  Missy wore red for siren.  Patty was purple. She was our dreamer, so the group unicorn.  And I wore black. Yep you got it. I’m the goth metal head.  Into all that is supernatural and hard core.
To this day, I have no idea why we get along. But we respect each other. We all love music, art, and dance. We’re all good at what we love. And we know and practice our craft. So whether we were alike or not, we got each other in that. We gave each other the space and time to be ourselves. With little complaint. It meant a lot to each of us as  individuals to have that. So we could coast thru our relationship, knowing that. However different we were.
The club was Kimmy’s find.  Miss Pop star. She had heard of the new club, was told it was hot and unique.  That was enough for her. Tracy wanted to know what kind of dance it was. Just music. Repetitive, loud, drums and synthesizer. It made the dancers feel IDK loopy? Without drugs. Circa 1990s.
My ears perked up. I asked if there were any rumours of spiking the punch (so to speak).  Kimmy said she hadn’t heard of any. She’d be the one who’d know. Kimmy was tapped in.

So we went. All excited in our own way.  And looking forward to enjoying each other’s company. And a break from our usual head space.
We arrived at the club and had no problem getting in. We’re all pretty, in our own way. And we had the tickets needed. But they do let pretty girls in first. Everyone knows that on the club circuit. Right?
We checked our coats, got our first drink gratis. Being young pretty women, they wanted us to come back.  The cute guy at the coat check smiled and flirted with us.  Esp Patty.  But he kept looking at her like he wasn’t sure she was all there. Well she can be a little out there. I stayed quiet when I saw that. Cuzz if you find Patty out there, then don’t talk to me!  j/s  She was my gauge for a lot of the men around us. And vice versa.  If I was too hard core supernatural, there was a good chance you’d like Patty. So she stepped in. No hard feelings.  We get that people like different things. Different people. One of our group usually got the cute guy.  We just weren’t sure which would.

So we went onto the dance floor, that was practically humming from the vibrations and we could feel the heart beat of the drums in our throats and chests.
And we all did our own dance thing.  Kimmy and Tracy were the type who knew the latest pop steps.  Missy and Patty were slutting it up for the guys around them to happily watch. And me?  The girls call me dervish, with good reason. I spin and spin and spin.  Till I’m zoned out.  My friends keep me near the edge of the crowd and  keep an eye on me, so I don’t get taken off by the guys.
This place was perfect for any of their styles.  But it was most perfect for mine. It was hypnotic.  And I fell into the circle.
I saw the forest.  I saw the circle in the center.  I saw Gaia and the Green Man having an encounter.  I always thought of them as lovers. Mad, passionate lovers. The kind who made you blush, no matter how experienced you were, when you watched them. Because they sizzled when they were together. I wasn’t sure where each began or ended.  They were pure sex.
And that was how the trip to the club went. Just some dancing and flirting with cute guys. Besides me seeing Gaia and the Green Man again.
the drum circle  –
I went to the community center because I had read they were planning to have a drum circle for women.  That was something I could totally get into. Drums are def a thing for me.  It’s a large part of why I listen to the music I do. Metal and hard rock.  I’ve been reading up on  drums in faith and wanted a chance to explore that in a safe place.  I was pretty sure they’d keep it lite in a public place that wasn’t their temple. Seemed safe to explore it there.
I dragged my friend Patty along.  She’s on the esoteric side of the coin. So she was willing to spend her time with me that way.
We decided to wear our hippie gear so we might blend in, or at least not offend anyone. We wanted to be modest till we scoped the group out. So colourful loose tees and a long flowing skirt to match.  We wore tie up sandals as well. And big loop earrings. Light makeup.
When we got to the center, we were given herbal tea and a couple cookies. All fruits and nuts. Really, nothing else. They were delicious.  And I was sure would do my gut good. Probably my days’ servings worth of fruit and a good protein source.
Patty and I toasted each other with the cookies and smiled.
When the group of women who had been invited all arrived, the presenter went into her spiel about the hypnotic effect of drums and their religious  use for many cultures. A steady beat could apparently help you meditate.  You might even get a trance out of it.
Patty smiled at me. She knew I often zoned out at clubs when we were dancing and even listening to music at home.  I winked at her. Drums and I are old friends.
Soon enough, the circle began. Soon enough, we got into a groove.  So we were actually achieving a really cool heart beat effect with the drums. Rhythmic and predictable. Soothing.  And yes, hypnotic. I started to sway to the beat.
I went into the forest.  Into the center of it. And saw that Gaia and the Green Man had beat me there.  They were in a mad passionate moment and I just stood watching them. Trying to be discrete.
I stayed there, till Patty  bumped me in the ribs. I looked at her with a “huh” look on my face.  And she smiled.  Said it was  time to go.
I asked Patty if she ever got that loopy feeling. She said yes, but not to drums. I made a note to be sure I went out with her when drums might be part of the outting. She understood and would look out for me.
I also picked up some of the literature for the group that had done the presentation. I wanted more information and they seemd like a way to get it. I was glad i had come.
the forest walk  –
I’d been having these visions of Gaia and the Green Man in a forest, so I thought I should go to one and see if I could find out what they wanted to tell me. Or if I just needed to spend some time in nature, to feel rejuvenated.  I often needed that time to “commune with the faeries”, as my aunt called it.  She and I were very similar in that way.
So I called her to see if she wanted to tag along. She said yes.
There is a wood near where I live. It’s not very deep, but in theory you could get lost. I never went into it alone. JIC.  I’m not a forager or survivalist. I’d be more likely to poison myself.
Auntie Caro and I packed a lunch and some snacks as well as water bottles.
Sweaters in case it got chilly. and a slicker in case it rained. And wore our hiking boots.  Auntie Caro took along a walking stick. She is still an agile, feisty woman who is more likely to beat someone with the stick than really need it to keep herself steady.  Which might be why she actually uses it.
We set off on our walk.
I had a book along so we could look up the vegetation and flora we saw as we walked. And it was a lovely fall day. So it should be good weather. We might not need more than our tees, but you just never know. Better prepared,  as the scouts say.
Auntie Caro and I chatted in a light friendly fashion as we walked thru the woods. And when we came to the center circle, we were in a good mood.  As well as ready for our lunch.  We spread our slickers out and put our sweaters on them for a bit of padding. And happily ate our sandwiches, then drank the soup we had put into a thermos. Chatting all the while.  We were having fun.
We stretched out and had a bit of a nap before we started to walk back to the car.
I had a dream of Gaia and the Green Man…
They were having an argument about something. Well that was disappointing! Though since I was with my aunt, probably just as well. I mean…
I couldn’t make out what the issue was though.  I couldn’t understand their words, nor make out the context. But it seemed serious.
I woke up slowly and looked for my aunt. Then I noticed her coming out of the greenery and presumed she had needed to water a bush. I went off to find another bush to water, before we went back to the car.
I hadn’t really learned anything.  So I guess it was just about getting me and Auntie Caro out for the day together.
And that was fine by us.
But I did wonder why Gaia and the Green Man were arguing.

P3  –

My friend Missy and I had a chat on the phone last night. It seems she and her BF are looking to explore opening their relationship up and she wanted to talk to me about it. She knows I’ve done this kind of thing before, so she wanted info and it seems they both think I’d be hot to have a 3-some with. Her BF has gone to the dance clubs with us at times. When we’re less sure of the place and worry about our security. He makes a good bodyguard. I wasn’t that surprised to hear he thinks I’m hot. Women know. (wink)
The first thing I made clear was if I participated, I wouldn’t submit to him. I wouldn’t be bound, with him in the room. Missy said that was fine. He wanted to be bound, not us girls. He wanted to be teased and tortured by a couple of hot women. Rapaciously. Ok, I could get into that.
Then I wondered if Missy and I were supposed to be together. Missy said that was something we didn’t have to worry about the first time, cuzz they were just planning to focus on him this time. I asked her if she was bi or pan, and she said not really. But she didn’t mind making out some with a woman, in that context. She thought it’d be hot. So she thought she was curious or flexible. If anything.
I asked what she meant by making out. She said kissing and massaging each other’s boobs and maybe rubbing each other’s clit while one was riding him. Cool, I could get into that.
Well then, … I asked about our friendship. We weren’t besties but we did hang with the same group often. How did we avoid us becoming awkward if things didn’t work out? She said by their assurance that they’d respect any boundaries I put into play.
I also asked if she was sure her BF would respect our boundaries. And only be hitting on me when given this leave, as a play date. not as an ongoing relationship. She reminded me that she was the one making the approach, and he never had before. Good point. She also said he had always respected hers. Well, that was probably true. I did know that she never complained about this BF and had about others. And they had been dating awhile now. So the NRE thing was probably worn off. She was probably telling the truth.
I asked if he was her submissive. She said no. They were just playing. It would be hedonistic, sensual. not really dominant. Not really sadistic. Ok then.
I asked her for a couple days to think about it. And said I’d let her know. Then hung up the phone. It did sound like fun, after all.
So we had the dynamic, the outlying script basis, and the agreement that this would be a one-off playdate, unless further negotiation was made. And that I would not be bound. Unless we got more detailed, and we could if anyone had more questions but didn’t have to, it seemed like a fairly good plan. Something enjoyable. And he was a cutie. Mostly, whether or not I trusted him, I did Missy. Mostly because it didn’t benefit her social needs and our group relations for her to propose something then lie or abuse my trust. It would go badly for her. I am not the type to cry in a corner. Neither was she. So I intended to be clear and keep my word.
I worried it over for a few days and went thru the erotic possibilites for a few days (yes I masturbated about the concept).
Then I called Missy and said it was a date. We went over the agreement again to be sure we understood, then set the date and time. It looked like a go.
Just as a tip to the wise, I did mention there might be some shyness, awkwardness and jealousy. I’d found that before.
Missy said we were all adults and none too innocent. So she hoped to be able to talk it thru. That was her aim, anyway. We hung up and looked forward to the date.

P3 Tools  –
The day finally arrived that Missy and I had negotiated for her BF, Rick.  They wanted me to join them in a 3-some and we had negotiated the terms.
Rick gathered the tools and cuffs he wanted us to use to tease and torture him with. Then he left to go to work.
Missy invited me over for tea and we looked thru the tools. It appears Rick wanted to be tickled. So… feathers, boas, stuff like that.  He wanted to be scratched.  So… claws.  He wanted to be pricked.  So… needles, of course. And he did want some whipping, but not harsh. So… cat of nine tails. Just as a light ouch Missy said. Nothing sadistic. And he wanted to be burned. So… wax.
I said if he truly wanted all that done, whether any one thing had been harsh, he’d be in pain by the end.  She laughed and said, whatever we got to.  Just so long as those were the tools used. When they were. And so long as he could call stop when he’d had enough. Not a problem, I said.  She told me the safe word they used.
Rick wanted to have sex with two women. Missy only agreed if Rick was bound and she controlled who and made the negotiations. Which is where I came in.
There was nothing I objected to.  Esp since he was the one who would be receiving the pain. It was supposed to be about Rick’s fantasy. Typical guy.  I laughed and asked her when she got her fantasy. She winked and said, it was hers as well. But he thought it was a gift for him.
I said it would be our secret.
Just before he got home, we changed into sexy lingerie and waited beside the inside door to the garage.  As he stepped in,  Missy locked one cuff on his wrist, and I did on the other. He smiled.  Rick said thank you to me and kissed Missy.
“I was afraid one of you would chicken out.”
We laughed. And headed for the bedroom. He undressed and we bound  him to the four posters.
And it began.
Missy and I took turns teasing him with the toys and massaging him. We kissed each other now and then too. Then Missy encouraged me to ride him.  She put the condom on him and we had sex.  He had a lot of stamina and I easily got to the point of orgasm. As I fell into it, I went to the forest circle and saw Gaia and the Green Man there.
I was naked, only half alert and not ready at all when the Green Man grabbed me and pulled my soul out of my body.
Gaia erased any sight Rick or Missy had of them and left them thinking they had had a great time with me, till I dressed and went home. She collected my clothes and we were covered.
The Green Man took me to his cave. They were not happy that I had seen them repeatedly and had been on alert for the next time I came thru the veil.
I was now their slave.
The Green Man looked like he was going to enjoy the situation. Gaia looked a bit pissed though.  I wasn’t sure what to think. But I did know that I was about to have an experience few live humans ever will. What could be wrong with that?
What indeed.

the truth about sexual assault

The truth about sexual assault : it’s not as much of a gender issue as you’d think

## . . . .  the story of men

Men have a thing between their legs that is basically a bundle of nerves. That goes up or down based on a will of it’s own. Whether it’s arousal, having to pee or just cuzz the air blew on it. Maybe the zipper of their jeans kept rubbing it. They were in warm water. And to their shame, the doctor or nurse snapped a glove when they knew they were about to get an exam.

When they are in their teens 20s and 30s it goes up and down like a yoyo. Never predictable. Not really avoidable.  So is is really a great shock when it gets used to sexually assault them ? Their own body is a weapon against them then.

Why would they “take it”?

Not because they’re weak. There are as many reasons as there are men. Same as with women.

And men don’t have the social network to help them get to safety or heal after sexual assault. Esp if they are assaulted by a woman. Because the first thing they have to do, is stop the person listening from laughing, or clapping them on the back.

## . . . .  the story of women

Women’s equipment is mostly internal. So harder to tap into with random stimulation. But if you have ever gotten your panties between the labia or had your jeans seam rubbing your clitoris, you know accidental can occur.

## . . . .  part of my comments in the thread

Here’s a very simple way for a woman to rape a grown man and easily accessible as well. Two pills and he’s frozen, unable to move and hard as a rock. I won’t tell you the name of the first pill but the 2nd is viagra. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.

Here’s another way, he’s sleeping, drunk or bound and he has an erection she uses. No pills req’d

Last eg I promise. She has a few friends hold him down. A bit of stim of the prostate and he’s erect.

As for rape, a dildo and it’s penetration, even a finger is.

Reminder, not all arousal is equal. Passion and pleasure easily can or can’t cause an orgasm. Plenty of women have trouble achieving that. Some women respond to fear and pain, or shame and some kind of distressing stim. More uncomfortable than painful and sure not pleasureful.

## …. sources

NB- Transgender inclusive info


## . . . .

[men raping men][]

## . . . .

Bell Let’s Talk – Jan 31 2018

bell-jan 31 2018 let-s-talk


It really doesn’t take much compassion to realize that we all have off days. When we feel like crap. We’re tired and find it hard to focus on our duties of the day. Or we have a stack of bills and worries that we’re trying to juggle, and barely scraping thru.
We all feel alone and isolated at times and find it hard to reach out. We have times when loving and people-ing are hard.
We all also have been hurt by something in our past. And some days, it’s harder than others to not be absorbed by that hurt. To be thinking of the person who hurt us and give them supernatural powers in our minds.
We all have had those moments when a thought or a song gets stuck in our heads, like an ear worm and we can’t get rid of it.
Those are the basis of a lot of mental health issues. A clouded head full of disorganized thoughts and feelings, till you get overwhelmed and need someone or something to help you sort thru it all.
So why do we have such a hard time showing empathy to those who have a mental illness?
Because back in time, it was a dirty secret. It was a shame. Back in the day of superstition. When was that day? Sadly, it still goes on.
We seem to expect people to cope, no matter what. But we all have bad days. Every human being does. And it’s grandiosity to think it can’t be you. So how do you want to be treated if you are the one who needs help?
Being mentally ill is not contagious.
Most people with mental health issues are just struggling to cope with their day. Very few are a threat to you. It’s more likely they’d be a threat to themselves than you.
They might be a bit scattered. A bit tired. Their words might jumble up, like a word salad. They might have gait issues and walk a bit odd. They might count things and do the same thing over and over again. They might be a bit childish or moody. They might clean obsessively or live in squalor. They might be homeless. They might have a head full of noise, voices I call K=FUCK radio. They are probably more scared of you, than you are of them.
What they need is support and understanding. I just wish that’s what they got.
Do you think any less of a person who has a broken leg or arm? Do you expect someone with an broken arm to keep lifting things? Do you expect a person with a broken leg to keep walking or running? If you expect someone with a mental health issue to behave exactly as you do, on a good day, then it’s you who has the problem. Not them. They’re just having a bad day and struggling a bit. Let’s help, shall we?


for more info  –

the imp and the alienist (a story)

She stood accused… of the most heinous crimes known to human kind.  She had been brought before the court to hear the charges against her.  The judge took one look at her state of being and ruled that she should see an alienist. Only the judge had called him a psychiatrist, probably to confuse her. Well it hadn’t worked. Her imp told her what was meant.

So she went meekly to the office of her foe.  As if she didn’t know.  The alienist would pay for this.

They made her stop at a lab and took some of her hair and some of her blood. And put  wires on her head.

Even though she was terrified, she cooperated.  The imp wanted to see the alienist.  To see if he would recognize the imp.

When she walked into the office, the alienist smiled calmly and waved to a seat.

She was asked if she knew why she was there.  The imp answered for her.  “This lady is here to meet you. We asked her to be docile”.

The doctor’s head rose.  He looked more closely at the woman in front of him.  “We?” The doctor noted on the file that this was his 10th claim of possession this week.

“You are said to be the best alienist of this area.  We wanted to meet you.”

“I see”,  the doctor smiled. “Well thank you for saying that. But I need to collect the history of the human to serve her needs. Would it be ok to speak with her  first?”

“Of course!”

And the imp sat back in her brain and let the humans talk.  For now…

They chatted about her childhood, and her time in the human institutions of the temple and the academic world. They talked about her human family. She was asked if a man had ever injured her.  If she had felt safe as a child.

The imp came forward and rudely asked if he was going to do something worthy of his reputation as the best in the area.

The doctor said, “Yes, I’m going to follow the designed protocol to the letter, so she has a decent shot of having a fair trial. Is that alright with you?”

The imp returned to his waiting position and let them talk. He would be patient.

The woman was asked to fill out some questionnaires, which took awhile. So the imp occupied himself searching the woman’s brain. She was trying to show health, but kept getting caught up in the tests. Every now and then, the questions repeated, but asked for the information a bit differently, so the assessor would know if she was lying.

Finally, the doctor stopped the interview with the woman. And asked the imp if he had anything he wanted to say or ask. Otherwise they could talk once the tests were back.

The imp deferred till the tests were done.  It seems this host had issues. And the imp now wanted to know what they were.

So did the doctor.

The woman thought she was the same as any other human. With at least one imp talking to her inside her head. Didn’t everyone have that?

The next time the imp saw the alienist, he was speaking from the witness seat at the courthouse. In the hearing room.

He quietly told the judge that the woman was not capable of helping herself. She required treatment for whatever was wrong with her. And further tests. The judge acquiesced.

The woman wasn’t fit to stand trial.

The imp had picked the wrong human to prove that supernatural evil existed. He would be punished for this by his superiors.

He stayed long enough to meet with the alienist again. Once more. The alienist asked what the imp wanted of him.  The imp asked if the alienist believed in evil.  He wanted to know if he would at least have the right doctor on his side when the time came. It might appease his superiors.

The doctor paused for a moment. He looked into the woman’s eyes and firmly said, “yes I do”. And the imp went happily back to hell to pick his next victim. The alienist would be primed and waiting now.

## . . . .  sources

[link 1][]

CDN  –

(a) understand the nature or object of the proceedings,(b) understand the possible consequences of the proceedings, or(c) communicate with counsel;
[link 2][]

(1) have the sufficient present ability to consult with his or her lawyer with a reasonable degree of rational understanding; and (2) he or she must have a rational as well as a factual understanding of the proceeding against him or her.

[link 3][]

Historically, competency was equated with psychosis; however, research has since provided evidence that the presence of psychosis itself is not sufficient for a defendant to be adjudicated incompetent (Zapf et al., 2014). CST evaluations assess basic cognitive processes in relation to the defendant’s present psycholegal abilities such as understanding relevant information, appreciating the situation and its consequences, the ability to use logical thinking and reasoning, being motivated to assist counsel, and the ability to effectively formulate as well as communicate decisions (Murrie & Zelle, 2015).

[link 4][]

advancements –  [biomarkers][]
[PET and SPECT][]

assessments – intelligence (e.g., Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scales) and psychopathology (Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) are commonly used in competency evaluations (Pirelli, Gottdiener, & Zapf, 2011).

[link 5][]
hair or nails –  chronic use/overuse of alcohol or certain drugs[link 6][]
[link 7][]


Complete blood count (RBC, CBC, differential, indices, platelets)

Blood chemistry (glucose, liver enzymes, kidney function, thyroid, electrolytes)

Urinalysis (Glucose, White cells, proteins, specific gravity)

[link 8][]
metabolic tests  –  CHEM 7 (for kidney and liver function)[link 9][]


a dommie’s tease…

A Dommie Tease…

Victor came to Dommie’s house, expecting to get whipped or spanked. He also expected to have her yell at him and call him names. Instead, she was really sweet and had a big smile on her face…
She invited him in, had him remove his pants and underwear and sit in a strange chair. It looked a lot like the potty chairs that they used in his grandpa’s nursing home. So he giggled a bit. He asked her if she wanted him to pee now? He said he might get some air out, but was too nervous to use it as a toilet otherwise. She smiled and shook her head no.
Besides feeling himself get hard, the first thing Victor noticed was a tickling sensation on his ballsack. It took him a few seconds to figure out it was a feather. Ah so she liked sensation play as foreplay, did she? Cool!
Then he felt a few pricks of a needle. That made him squirm. He wasn’t fond of needles at all! So he blew thru his nose and suffered till she was done.
Victor heard her snap a glove on and grimaced. Oh she wouldn’t, would she?? Thankfully, the answer to that appeared to be no. She rubbed all over his peri area and genitals until he felt a drop of pre-cum exit his head. She suddenly stopped and waited till he calmed down a bit.
Dommie pulled the glove off and told him she wanted him to masturbate for her. Slow steady strokes. He was happy to touch himself at that point. just not sure he could stay at slow. But he began. And for a few whacks it was ok. Manageable.
Until he felt a light buzzing sensation behind his ballsack. He gulped and took breaths to slow down his excitement. And tensed his abdominal muscles to help keep control. He also grabbed his bottom lip with his teeth. It was getting hard to stay still and keep the steady strokes she had wanted.
But she ramped up the buzz and it took everything he had not to cum. He was shaking. And she laughed. The bitch!
Dommie paused to give him a chance to calm down. It was obvious she was playing some long game that he wasn’t previously aware of.
Then he felt the buzzing begin again, but this time it was focused on his anus. He was told to start stroking again. The buzzing actually distracted him from the pleasure of being hard and masturbating now. He wasn’t big on anal stim.
Till she inserted it just a bit. About an inch or so. Then he started squirming. Ok maybe there was a good thing about this.
Dommie stopped when she saw he wasn’t paying attention to the speed of his strokes and was going too fast. She sharply told him to watch what he was doing and follow her instructions. She snapped his penis tip with a rubber band. Bloody hell! That hurt him! He gave her the stink eye. She just stared at him till he got that she was the one in charge. He ducked his head down and started the slow stroke when she directed him. Paid more attention to keeping the speed. And she started at the beginning.
The feather on the ballsack. He gritted his teeth. Apparently this was an edging session. He remembered agreeing to that now. Just hadn’t been ready for it to be today.
Ugh! This was going to be a long night!

Tod Heirat

Tod Heirat (a story)

Well it’s not like their marriage was ever meant to be of love or passion. So when they fought or just couldn’t find any common interests, it wasn’t a surprise. But the hate and resentment that grew was. Was it frustration at being together against their wishes? But it was what they had agreed to live with. So they had noone to blame but themselves. Well they were the only ones who were people anyway. The rest were institutions. How do you lash out at an institution? You can’t. So you lash out at the people within.
IIf they had been a friend, lover or associate of some kind, their lack of mutual empathy would have led to the dissolution of their relationship. But in a marriage, they had a bond that in their culture went beyond time and duty. So they weren’t allowed to leave.
IIt imprisoned them. And instead of fighting the promises they made or the iinstitution, they fought each other. Till even basic human decency was gone. They tried ignoring each other and going their own way. But decisions needed to be made. For themselves and their household. For their children.
They managed an odd detente. The house fractured into those that looked like father and those that looked like mother. Those that shared attitudes and interests of their parent. It was like two camps in one household. And the kids ran the messages back and forth as needed.
The only place they went beyond this was at church. They knew they had to look normal. But on the way to and fro, they snarled at each other.
So, when was this marriage over? Had it ever begun? Well they did have children. I guess even hate or apathy can be displaced when your bodies lay beside each other in a bed for years. So they rolled over and had sex. Or was it voluntary? Was it duty? Any culture wants children. A next gen to carry it forward. You’d have to wonder what fantasies it would take to carry those moments thru.
The siblings fought, as kids do. But in this house, they fought along the lines of the camps. The kids of father were violent to the kids of mother. and vice versa. They were mean at times and ignored each other at times. They were selfish about their resources. For no other reason than their parents hated each other. Not because they themselves had any antipathy toward each other.
Well not at first.
But how long do you keep using a sibling as a punching bag, before they start feeling hurt by it? Or afraid of you? Then what else can they do but get angry, or feel worthless when their own siblings hate them? Their one parent hates them because they have sided with the other? Because they look like the other.
That was the baseline of the house… Armed camps.
All alcohol and drugs did was add fuel to the fire. But as you know if you cook, there can be a hell of a flash back when you do that. The fire can cook, it can purify, but it can also burn good things. And leave nothing but a charred remains. And ghosts. Or demons.
And that is what happened in this house.
There was no hope, no kindness, no humanity between the camps. Just an abiding hatred that flared when they were too close to each other. Or when they were high.
Till one night…
Hell came to earth. Hell came to that house.
The torture tools hell used were a gun, the anger, the drugs of a child who had had enough of living like this.
The child shot themself. And the parent left grieving for their loved child turned the gun on the other parent. And then on that parent’s favoured children.
It was a moment of insanity in an insane situation. Something they had previously had no thought of doing.
They were good people, who had an untenable circumstance. They weren’t murderers. They didn’t even consider murder as an option. They were used to the warring camps of the house and figured that was their life. Everyone had struggles and family dramas. So they believed they had nothing unusual. Just life. Duty. And the love of their half of the family.
Till they didn’t.
The parent was taken off to jail. They saw a psychiatrist. They were sane. Had been before, were afterwards. But they had had a break. And in that moment of rage, lost all sense of reality and morality. And killed thei spouse and some of their kids.
And now they would have to live with it the rest of their life. In jail? Is that what they deserve?
According to forensic psychiatrists, anyone can commit such horror. Given the perfect storm. And in just a few moments, their life as they know it is over. Hell came to earth. And to this house. And burned it to the ground.


Allan (a story)

He came into town on the tail of a storm, which made everyone of the religious (or should I say superstitious?) townies look at him askance. Especially the sheriff.
Every time, every time!! I said, there was even the slightest thing going on, Allan was picked up to see if he was involved. Didn’t matter if he was at work, at church, or even in the police station at the time, he was asked if he knew anything about the whatever it was. Some kid stole bubble gum at the small store, and Allan was asked if he knew the kid. Some husband beat his wife and Allan was asked if he helped the man. I know. He was rousted at the local police station and held in a cell. Sweated really. Ridiculous, right?
So Allan started to spend less and less time trying to make friends there. Some might call him paranoid. But the question remains, are you paranoid if someone is out to get you? The townies thought he was. Allan? Not so much. If he’d had the money, he’d have sold up and moved away. But he’d come here on his last dollar, hoping for a new start.
His job was in the next town over and everything was fine there. No people from this town worked with him. If they had, they would have met a guy who was polite and kept his head down. He wasn’t a threat at all. And he was quite good at his job. Helpful and diligent too. What more could you ask for from a coworker? Or a neighbour.
He kept his house neat. Well… till the kids kept egging and TPing it. Then he kept the inside neat. And now and then he powerwashed the outside. He left the TP to the winds. The kids finally got tired of doing it. Allan didn’t bother to react.
Allan had tried to shop in the town he lived in, but the store owners were rude and belligerent. He had tried to eat out at the local watering holes, but the waiters never seemed to get his order right. And he was sure he had a stranger tax on his bill.
He tried to go to town events, to show curiousity, being approachable and civic pride. But he was ignored. So he stopped bothering.
Ok maybe all towns do that to newbs, but Allan could only stand it for so long. He had always lived in cities before, where nobody cared whether you were new or old there. They just ignored you. They didn’t try to make life harder for you for no reason.
He wondered what would have happened if he wasn’t the decent human he actually was. But he was beginning to have revenge fantasies nonetheless.
One day, he saw a kid was injured and he stopped to help. Another adult ran up and started beating on him, cuzz they thought Allan had hurt the kid. Suddenly there was a crowd around, throwing stuff at him. So he ran away and left them to get the kid help. Nobody came to apologize when the kid told them the truth. And the sheriff stopped by and told Allan to mind his own business from now on. There’s gratitude for you!
So Allan started saving money to leave town. And soon was able to put his house on the market. Townies kept intruding on the sale. Till he got an offer from a developer who didn’t care what townies thought. For more than asking. So Allan sold it and left town!
The townies were in shock. Now instead of having one person, one stranger in town, they’d have a bunch! The developer was putting up cheap condos. It had all the makings of a ghetto. With a slum lord. The town was in an uproar. And the only person who could have stopped it was the guy they had run out of town. He was laughing all the way to the bank.
Do you think the townies got what they deserved? Maybe someone should have reminded them from the pulpit that they’re to treat strangers as if they’re Jesus coming to visit.

The Aliens and Saviours Walk on Earth (a fable, or is it?)

The Aliens and Saviours Walk on Earth

Once upon a time ago, an alien ship visited earth. They came to teach the neanderthals the tools they would need to survive. At the time, the earth was full of dinosaurs and other large creatures. Killer creatures against knives, darts and arrows. And people who only grunted to communicate.
So the aliens taught them a common language, how to make fire and how to protect and shelter themselves and their families.
In exchange, the aliens gave them a moral code and taught them about a faith that was based on more than superstition. The people made the idols for their new faith and prayed as they were told to.
After the aliens left, the people went beyond what was asked of them. They started killing neighbours who refused to convert. They made war on other nations. They enslaved people.
So the aliens returned and slaughtered the people.
The reset button was set.

. . . .

Once upon a time ago, there were saviours sent out to the people. Sons of virgins and the divine. They taught the people a common language, how to make fire and how to protect and shelter themselves and their families.
In exchange, the saviours gave them a moral code and taught them about a faith that was based on more than superstition. The people made the idols for their new faith and prayed as they were told to.
After the saviours left, the people went beyond what was asked of them. They started killing neighbours who refused to convert. They made war on other nations. They enslaved people.
So the saviours returned and slaughtered the people.
The reset button was set.

. . . .

So the aliens and the saviours had a meeting.
They decided to leave the people to grow on their own. And the people?

. . . .

They taught themselves a common language, how to make fire and how to protect and shelter themselves and their families.
They develped their own moral code with a faith that was based on more than superstition. The people made the idols for their new faith and prayed as their ancestors told them to.
They started killing neighbours who refused to convert. They made war on other nations. They enslaved people.
And the aliens and saviours realized the people were unteachable.and left them to their own devices. Because they knew that sooner or later, the people would kill each other off. There was just no point in trying to change them.

Pauper’s Grave (a story)

Pauper’s Grave

There was a very tiny chapel in the woods, that really only the town folk had known about for ages. Nothing spectacular, Nothing worth seeing. Just a place to gather, for the believers. To pray and to sing hymns. It was such a small place that they couldn’t even get a circuit preacher to come or a fire-and-brimstone type who would preach pretty much anywhere. They’d rather have a tent in the city than speak at their little chapel.
Not that there was anything wrong, not inside the chapel anyway.
Well not anywhere really. All they had was creepy stories. Stories that the youth would tell about the graveyard out back.
It was de-sanctified ground. Well, never had been sanctified. It was for the poor folk around these parts. Especially those who had never been shriven. Still born babies, blue babies, youth who had left the church and never come home to it and the sick elders who had lost their minds. So that is the spirit of the graveyard.
And it’s there that evil lurks they say.
There were a lot of stories of noises, feeling like you’re followed, unexplained deaths after someone visited that graveyard. Yet the youth kept going back there on dares and to “investigate” the claims.
Word got out, and they even had groups come in who wanted to “read” the signs for paranormal activity. I can’t speak to how real these groups were, but nothing got explained. And it just seemed to make the spirit of the yard madder. I guess I might be a bit upset if they used Christian prayers over my grave, when the church wouldn’t bury me unless they were paid too. If I could rise from my grave, I might chase people off who tried that on too.
Then there were the sinners in the lot behind the one for the unshriven.
Those who had gone to jail and never begged for forgiveness. Those who died by drugs or booze and those the town knew were criminals, whether or not they had ever seen the inside of a court. You know small towns and their grape vines. Their stories aren’t always right, but sometimes they are. They just can’t prove it. Not in a court of law anyway.
But no court of law has ever stopped someone in a small town who knows something is true from taking things into their own hands. Not if they were mad enough, anyway.
So that is who was under the ground in the back lot. And if the unshriven had a beef with someone trying to say prayers over their graves, then the sinners were even less likely to accept them with good grace.
Now you’d think that the town folk would eventually just stop going out there, or they’d stop reporting the stories about noises and haints. But this town had a curfew. Nobody in their right mind was out near the graveyards after dark. Not even on the road that ran by it, even though it was the main road into town. And that was inconvenient to say the least.
Even the paranormal investigators were run off. And funnily enough, they never came back twice. You’d think they’d be used to spooks, right? I guess their spooks believed in the Bible and prayers. These ones? Not so much.
Can you blame them? They had been shut out of the church by these small town people with small town minds. And now they could deal with the fallout.
Till they went into the pretty little sanctified plot beside their church. Where nobody but them came anymore. You’d have to hope there’d be one left who gave a crap to bury the last church member. Or the haints just might drag them into the lots behind their little chapel. And they’d never be seen again.