Drawn to Shadows: A Ward Kite

Earthling prince broods about regret and makes 'contact' with a spirit-messenger inhabiting his robot toy for the Ego's chase.

Metaphysics vignette, inspired very loosely by The Changeling (George C. Scott). Happy Holidays (thanks for reading!), 

DISCLAIMER: This work of creative fiction contains images/references with no commercial/explicit ties to any person(s)/body and is therefore cast as purely a 'personal' expression for social art (for 'open' translations).

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I needed money, badly. I had to get an operation for an otherwise terminal condition and decided to give up my kid for adoption, because I couldn't afford the care and ward-duty for my life condition (damn). I lamented the choice, but I got the needed operation now and saved my own life and decided then to get myself a toy robot with glowing parts and talking recorder voice and prayed about my lost child to the heavens (Selfie-like).

I decided to go on one given Sunday to a special local cemetery and thought deeply about parents who've lost their offspring to accident or tragedy of unavoidable fates and wondered with fear what my own soul/brain harbored because of the (invisible?) tragedy in my own life on Earth; and I thought about the loss of my child more gravely than ever (wow).

ROBOT: Can you hear me, keeper?

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: I'm simply a spirit, a messenger, from another side of life.

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: You thought you just had this special toy for prayers, keeper?

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: I meant only to convey your adverbs for Earthling cleats, keeper.

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: You transplanted the spirit of your given-up child onto me, man.

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: I speak to the Realism of shadow-lands, of undoubted haunting.

ME: You're...alive!
ROBOT: When a soul of Earth makes a wager for forgetting, he can not.

ME: He can't put the past behind him, regardless of his quest to hide.

ROBOT: That's why I'm alive, keeper...I'm not your conscience.

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: Keep secret; why you think I'm speaking is your examination.

ME: You're...alive!

ROBOT: I've drawn to your soul/brain the synthesis of Earth's jewelry.

ME: Thank you (farewell, spirit).

ROBOT: Good luck (Selfie-like).

I sat in a roadways-midways hostel-station post-encounter of the robot-toy spirit during my cross-country meditation drive; and I enjoyed a very nice pizza and watched American football on TV in the lounge mindlessly and tried to forget why I conceived that robot toy was alive and speaking to me about incomplete-distances readings of the leviathan/uncertainty of the consciousness, of regret, of haunting, and of the soul's seemingly endless yearning for discreet manmade closure! I knew now I (actually!) was drawn to a realm of shadow-contemplation and needed to get-over the veils of uneasiness to embrace more vitally the accessible forms of life's (actual!) worries for mortal-thoughts.

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)