To Just No Longer Be Ever Again

12,006 words

1

It was there, a spot on the ceiling. He couldn't see. Did it have legs? It was about the size of the top of one of those pegs in his “IQ Test,” game. He didn't know why it caught his eye. He just looked up. Did someone suggest he do it? I mean in his subconscious or something. The ceiling needed cleaning. When he looked back the spot was gone. What would make it disappear? It was nice and warm inside like that today. The wind was strong. The swirls of snow had been everywhere.

He thought about his buddy. He was sunning himself. The sand was too warm even hot. Sweat got in his eye. He didn't realize he could see him. When he heard his thoughts he rolled over and sighed.

This must be cabin fever. Getting out of the chair wasn't painful yet, he was just stiff. Walking was even a little trouble for him. That damned bathroom door needed fixed. It rubbed. The water soon warmed. He noticed all the water stains. He always dropped his soap. It felt like his legs would give out. He smelled the soap and got some lather on his nose. There was nothing to think about. TV was just background noise. What had he been watching. He did know. He knew he knew. He had forgotten! Really? It had been awhile since he needed to remember any thing.

He was sitting in the swing. When he thought of it he knew it would make his best friend mad as hell. He hadn't expected him to punch him. That eye still hurt. He killed himself. The funeral was nice. His mom cried all the way through. She was an old battle ax. He hated her until then. Nobody else seemed to care at all. He had been dead to him for years. He went to war just fine. He wondered what happened to him. Nobody he ever knew or would want to know came back. But their bodies did resemble each other. He couldn't believe it even yet. He just didn't care. Like whose chewing gum had been under his desk in high school that time. He wouldn't have chewed it anyway. God he loved gum.

It had been a while since he plugged the hole of that bullet with it. How could he have been so stupid to think the gangs would just let him sell stuff to junkies right out in the open like that. He felt of the scar on both sides of his hand. His lighter was sure funny looking with the bullet lodged in there so tight he never even tried to get it out. Just like tar stains on his white shirt.

Dancing never was his thing anyway. Wanda sure was. She hugged him like it was a fresh tux. If she could've afforded a dentist back then. She is gorgeous even yet. Seven kids are bit much for any woman's body. Her eyes still danced the last time he saw her and him.

He's still in prison. Juggling loans from sharks to pay gambling debts. Luckily he lived. 23 broken bones is a lot of pain to visit him again about their age now. He couldn't be alive.

Wanda had died. Head on collisions driving at 3.8 should be something that wouldn't happen to someone as nice as she had been. An old “has been” was all she was when he killed everything inside her. All seven kids are junkies but the one in prison and he probably is still doing his share even there. He should have married her while she was still alive instead of after there was nothing to her anymore. He never married again. In a way he never knew who the hell it was he married. She didn't even resemble Wanda except for her eyes when she would look at him. It fooled him. He thought that meant there was some thing he didn't know what it could have been in there some damned place he never tried to find.

When he killed that kid for busting his light on his bike he almost died when his blade went clear through him. How did they ever figure he never attacked him and beat up his present piece? His lawyer never even heard of such a thing. Whatever happened it had nothing to do with the trial. Money and a rich criminal uncle can change the entire appearance of the evidence. Like brass knuckles did his face by his brother's hands a year later.

That girl in third grade that stole his pocket knife never expected it when he caught her alone and raped her to death. Ugliest woman he had ever seen she was. There wasn't any doubt in his mind about it. The spot was back. It was cold in the raw in the same chair he rarely left for long to do anything. He wondered if he should get up and wipe the chair after that last one. Who would ever figure it? Her brother had to know before he confessed it to him. A new man, saved by the grace of God in Jesus Christ. No one from the Church visited him anymore. He had given up on prayer. But he just could not stand to believe he wasn't saved.

“Do you believe there is a God?” Do you believe the second time can be a charm. How about just the third time? He would never quit trying. He was evil as the Devil. But he died to all that. He was a saint now. He was the King's brother, an important man. He never thought of his self as important but that once. God, that made all the difference. That was all he ever really wanted. To be somebody, somebody important. No one ever treated him like he was important to even just them before.

He didn't like being in Church. Anyplace else he hated would be just as good. He hated everywhere. Being someone no one would ever knowingly want to be, who could stand it? It had been that all his life. All he wanted of Jesus Christ was for him to have the balls to kill his a*s and leave it at that, to just no be any longer, just to have an end to it promised him by someone even would be better than all he ever knew to be honest. How many times can you get saved until it doesn't matter to you if you are let alone Jesus or the Father, or even God.

God actually does it all. Nobody ever did nothing. All he ever said and all he ever did or even thought God done her. “Who the hell do you think you're messing with God?” If you did her you pay for her. I never did a damned thing. You did it all. You said it all. You thought all those damned things I think of over and over that never end. Mama cutting her wrists. Papa a drunk who watched her die and did nothing. Us kids amazed at all red stuff inside someone. You did all that and I didn't care whether it was me or you. I always knew we were like puppets. That's how you forgive me. You know I know. I've got the goods on you and if you cut me open one time too many I will tell; everybody.

“God?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you did it. You've known all along. It doesn't make any difference thinking like that. He only did it because you would have anyway and you know it.”

Crying from the bottom of himself. Dying so that he felt nothing though he fell from his chair. He must have died that time. There is no way to explain it. He was slain in the Spirit. He still wanted to just end and never be again. Even being nothing nowhere would probably still find him wanting to end and just not be ever again, to sleep with no dreams and nothing to ever let him know he was again without end is all he ever aspired to be.

He didn't swear anymore. He quit smoking and chewing and drinking this time. He always took a bath now and changed clothes every day and dressed up the best he could on Sundays and went to Church to be miserable instead of staying home and being miserable with only thinking about God to distract him for long. Then they opened his mind. It didn't come back for a long time. Then he saved the guy who messed up his face permanently. He had done good. He should have been happy. He could even hear God and Jesus now. What in hell was still wrong?

The bed was warm and comfortable. Not sleepy at all he lay there wishing it could be more than a restless minute or two. Sitting on the edge of the bed after doing something good like that. Actually loving someone like that. Actually feeling his joy afterward. That was what God had been up to all along. But he was too miserable and feeling too out of place in his own place good now with nothing but goodness to think and overrun with love for God and Jesus and everybody like that. But he didn't want to be. A moment like all of creation is stunned by and all he wants from God is to not be with not wanting to feel it ever again added on.

He began to tell his story. People began to listen. He told them the gospel. They responded to it. Some got saved. Some actually lived like he did. He should have been pathetic but he was so proud of Jesus for putting him to his death and to him for raising him and to God for bringing him back more than a time or two when he fell away. It doesn't happen anymore. Everything he does is made right and good so he can know it by God and Jesus Christ forgives him saying again and again, “There is nothing to forgive.”

He begged God for years to just let him end so he could just be no more until he got tired of being turned down and God got tired of dealing with it. He just could not stand being who and what and where he was. He turned to Beth the little miracle worker her daddy John was so proud of.

“What is it you want from me?” Beth asked.

“Nothing,” he said and the Spirit let her know that was exactly what he wanted and he was not just saying it that peaked her interest. But as he stared into her beautiful young eyes a single tear betrayed him so that he looked her in the face in agony and like a man choking to death with COPD of the type where they choke on their own phlegm many times until the final the last time the will to survive gives up and they are too weak without it to survive a sneeze begging them to let him die between times he whispered, “Make me so I am no more, ever again.”

I said to her, “He's alive.”

Her heart broke and she loved him more than even he daddy.

“But you are alive,” she managed to straighten up enough to say.

He closed his eyes and his body died and his life force left him and two months later he fully realized he was in the body of a seventeen year old red haired, blue eyed boy in the arms of a blonde haired brown eyed seventeen year old looking God, my daughter.

They married. They are evangelists for God, him more often Jesus but both saving people in the name of the Great God. Clean clothes. Showers. Clean fun. Clean troubles. Happy days, so so days, and yes still some bad days as they give their lives away to be in the Great God. He thinks of it.

“I just do not want to be.”

“You're important to us all.”

2

Buzzer. Running for the school. Last in line again. Putting away marbles. Bending down chasing his marbles. Principal's black shiny shoes. Large foot on cat's eye. Stern face. Foot moves. “Why are you always last, Jesse?” Foot don't move. “I win.” Front half of foot moves. Yellow cat's eye! Not scratched or anything! Hallway full of kids. A desk in the back row. Homely little girl's big eyes. He takes the seat. Hate in her expression. Fishing in pockets. Double Mint gum. Three wrappers. Pocket knife. Broken shoestring. The pocket knife is gone! The ugly little girl has it. The teacher looks at him. “Is this yours?” Nodding. Silence. Her desk drawer opens. Closes. “You know the rules.” Hate in the little girl's eyes. Sits in seat just ahead. A handful of hair. Yanking it all out. Screams and a commotion. Little girl sent to nurse. Him at the blackboard. Draws circle on board. Putting nose in circle. Standing on tiptoes. Teacher screams when he needs rest. Tears cover his face. The teacher is really angry. The students feel sorry. He drew the circle too high up. Pain in his Achilles heel. Stops crying. Mad at teacher now. Pain in his calves. Sits on the floor. Rubbing calves. The teacher grabs his collar. Alone in the hall. Looking at the blue cement blocks. Memory blurs. Kisses the little girl on the lips. His first kiss. Thrown away like that. Teacher smiles. Hate for the little girl. Seeing her. Feeling ugly. A monster. Punches her every time. Principal whacks his hands. Line of blood along knuckles. Angry. Kicks principal. Running through the halls. Out the door. Down the sidewalk. Counting cracks. Memory blurs. Walks up the driveway. Opens the front door. Nobody home. Sleeps until hungry. Vows in his thoughts to kill someone. The ugly little girl? Memory changes. Years pass. He gets evil in his mind when he sees the ugly little girl. Makes a right. Very near to the courthouse. The same girl! Alone! It's past midnight. Runs to catch up to her. She's a frightened cat. Long sharp claws. He punches her in the face. She falls. He beats her. She's yelling. He strips her naked. Rapes her. He beats her. He punches. He kicks. Blood running from her mouth. He feels evermore evil. He stomps on her head. His boot print stays behind. He looks at her! Rage continues. Cuts open her stomach with a pocket knife. Walking angrily away. Ugly dies! Hate doesn't! Someone's coming! Calls for them to call the cops. Runs off. He's all blood in the shower. Can't sleep. Wants to kill her even more. Nightmares every night for years he enjoys. Always killing her. He's just a little boy. She's just a little girl. Deformed face. They both finally died. I push the memory back in his subconscious. Put it in a room. The door is open. I close and lock the door. Place a combination lock on it. I don't look at its numbers. Burns his boots with the blood on them. His favorite shirt too. He gets angry to put it in the wood stove. Memory blurs. What happened to his jeans? He rubbed an eye. Years later is where his thoughts land. Teen aged brother finds him. Parking lot is empty. They fight. The teen knocks him down. Beats his face to ugly. He stays like that his entire life. “God! Why?” God was role playing. All three parts. “Why did you do her to me?” Doesn't understand what that means. Sees the Devil's face. Hears his laughter. Teen laughs. The Devil laughs. Many times. A sad hate. He feels sorry for the brother. He looks about to cry just before he laughs every time.

He's been in prison since he left reform school. In and out for years. Meets Jesse in an elevator with no one there. His face. He laughs. The Devil laughs. Choking the brother. Only imagining it. The brother is scared. He's big. The brother stopped growing early. He's saved by the blood of Jesus Christ. He reaches out for him screaming. He puts his hands about his neck. It is so soft. It is not muscular. It is tender beef. In a restaurant. Not bottom steak. Burning in a roaster oven. He's mad at me. He hates me. He loves me. He wants to never be again. He screams. He is hysterical. Quiet. Silent. The air feels like water. The sound of being not swimming under blood not water.

“You need God, you b*****d. I give you just one chance. God, Jesus or the Great God! You choose him. Otherwise? I tear you apart.” Looks at huge hands. Remembers the blood of the ugly little girl. Witches got her back then. Takes out pocket knife. Opens its blades. Jesus died for him too. If he is never saved he never lived either. They both die. Well? he doesn't. The brother does. The brother begs Jesus to save him. Dies. Feels nothing. Doesn't realize it. The time was so short. He falls on his neck. He loves him. More than Jesus. The brother. Full of joy. Face completely covered. Tears until there are no tears. Still crying. “I forgive you,” and “Forgive me,” said at once. Forgive at the time of forgive and me and you at the same time. “There is nothing to forgive.” It is all under the blood. The blood thins. Elevator moves. The next floor. They walk wrapped in each others arms.

He should be happy. But he is still someone. Someone he's embarrassed to be. Poor and everyone else is rich. He loves being poor. He just doesn't want to be even nothing anymore. He cries alone. No shred of dread or hate. He is alive. Without end.

He dies. Born a black baby this time. Born many times. Loves Beth each time. She still hates him. She is expectant. The sheets are cold to the touch. Her body is so warm. Her eyes say something. Only she and Jesse know what it is. They marry. He tells first timers. Then next timers about Jesus and the Great God. She tells them about her daddy. John tells them about God. The evangelism team. It has been too many. Too many lives to count. One life each. They have all memories. God doesn't role play them anymore. Still he doesn't want to be anymore. Sometimes? It gets rarer and rarer. It's there all the time. She hated him once.

3

Jesse was sitting in the tire swing. He thought, 'What if I tell him he's petite? Something to pet just like his teat?' He did. His buddy got mad. Blood from his left eye. Filling his bandanna. A gash at the top. A blood blister at the bottom. Black eye that wouldn't heal. The upper part still hurts. When he thinks about it? His eye's still full of blood.

A brown paper bag. It sat in the ditch. It was full of money. They scored a brick of heroin. Broke it up in small amounts. Undersold the gangs. Right on the street. Sitting in the yard. The money needed counting. It was all over the place. A nicely redone Dart in our neighborhood! Shot gun in the rear window. 22 rifle out through the front. Shot guns really make a mess. Those they hit hurt. One was almost in half. The 22 picked him out because of his face. He saw him aim. Put his hand over his lighter. Right through his hand. Caught by his Zippo lighter. Bones broken sticking out. Blood like raw hamburger. The gangs. “Undersell the gangs!!!” They only meant to scare us away. His buddy's body took pellets in his a*s. They noticed when they inducted him for the army. War heroes are dumb asses. He was over it when he came to the base. Let him off with a hit. Filled the car with pot smoke.

He left a good buddy. What came back? He don't know what the hell it was. He had no idea either. Not much of anything. Beat up a sapling in a rage. Something to do with something inside nobody ever seen. Even him. He didn't talk. Stoned on heroin. Cooked his eyes blind. Stared at the sun. No one knew you could. For that long! He never knew him again. Not at all. He knew none of what happened. Never spoke of the war. Laughed inappropriately when no one was talking. Like he was laughing at some spook in his head. Heroin makes you nasty. Cut off a guys ear. Maybe it stuck out too much or something? No he went to war a gentle person who loved to fight. Came back a killer that was a threat to a chickadee and everything up to and including a human. Scratched a girl's breast until it almost had to be amputated. Asked him why. “Had an itch to do that's all.” We all had her any time. It wasn't jealousy. None of us loved her. We just loved sex. Her included. Everybody was happy until then. We gave him our dope. Never saw him for years. Starved to death. His second death. A dead man was left in the war zone. Its spook was sent home to die.

The funeral was pleasant. His mother like always threw a fit. She cried every kind of variation of bawl possible. Made it less boring. Everyone was like me and felt nothing. He hadn't bothered none of us for so long we forgot who he was supposed to have been. I just could not believe it when I said his name. There was nothing there. No memory. No love. No hate. I just could not believe I just plain did not care. We were friends from second grade.

In high school I saw someone hide gum under their desk. Probably fresh. I was tempted. It was fresh. God how I love bubble gum. When I passed it up I thought of my buddy. It was like it was prophetic. I knew what his end would be. How reality defies reasoning. The only recurring memory I have of him was when he was trying to find the cows. In the inner city. Claimed they were bawling and bellowing to be milk. Can there be more than one reality present in the same one like spirits and that and cold hard facts like scientist geniuses all seem to see alike. He bet they were the same one too. Someone aught to explain that to God and them one day. It is the same one, not one all divided up by bullshit. One man's sanity is his own business. If so we are all nutz. He looked at the hole in his hand. One little error in judging. The unknown is deadly. See God it is all the same fricking thing. He knows it. He knows what will happen. Does it anyway. He did it all when it's over that way.

He had a nice Harley. He was high. A guy in the parking lot hit his light with a children's bat. His favorite piece took to hitting him. She could fight better than most men. He had to beat her death to come out alive. Then he attacked the guy and beat him up bad. Thinking, 'He should be dead,' he turned his back on him. The guy run a long dagger clear through him. When it was all sorted out and he lived but the others died they booked him for two counts of murder. Why not? He was guilty. He called home. His little sister answered. The next thing he knew was Diante sent him a note. Ignore your trouble. Your blood. You walk in the morning. “Not guilty for lack of evidence.” But that was all they had done. They paraded in evidence. It all condemned him. His lawyer couldn't believe it. He thought he won. He fixed his light and left town. He felt sorry for the dead. Those that had to let them go. But it was nothing to him anyway. He knew heroin would do such things so he did them for it. He hadn't done anything but what was expected to happen.

“No murderer can live forever!!!” the girl's relative screamed at him.

He saluted her to his bandanna saying, “Wasn't planning on it, Ma'am.”

“Come Judgment Day you'll see you already knew the verdict and burn in hell!!!” she said.

“I guess what you're saying is that God ain't a real friendly guy,” he said, “Judging by the fact it seems you're suppose to be him role play you role playing him. Seems to me the both of you are confused about what love is.”

She made the sign of the Cross and left and he wondered if such people really meant that much to anyone and if no one then why would even Jesus want them? He was confused but it wouldn't go away. It was needling him back in his hateful parts. He didn't know what the answer was. He decided not to hold it against Jesus. He had a haunting feeling God would role play something and he would find out. Too damned late.

As he rode into the wind it took the world away. It was just enough to do to keep the mind busy. It didn't think about much. Just easy enough to relax your brains. Hard enough to make your body like it was really important. Like it had actually done something. He was allergic to thinking. So he stayed away from it. As much as possible.

But that monster in Jesus. It held him by throat all the way. What was the difference between them. The Christian monsters and the rest of the witches? Was there any difference? For that matter is there a difference between any of us? In real reality we are all one characters for God to play to what? Entertain himself. All I knew was I understood something no one else ever thought of that way. It had come from a voice I called simply, John. John who or what? He didn't know. Somehow he found out. It let him know when he was just a year or two older than he was in second grade.

“I raped her. And, I killed her.”

But she was responsible for none of it. It wasn't her it was the witch God was role playing her role playing that mean and evil little girl with the deformed face. She simply shouted at everybody without any shyness, “I am ugly.” That she was the embodiment of ugly. Everyone that was ugly like me could say that she was uglier than we were.

He died. Then his body died. He knows all the answers now. But the only one he explains them to is his self. He sometimes bounces his explanations off his wife. Gets her take on it. She's a God made by the God that created the new Reality. God runs it. His Spirit, Me, translates it all to the old spiritual way.

What you don't know Jesse is I changed reality. Immediately God set out to protect the old reality. The basis my new reality is founded upon. There were only a few things about that reality God did not allow. He would not ever do them. Never role play them. Allow them by role playing someone else role playing them. Completely controlling someone else like evil did Hitler back when Satan made his play to set up his reality. Almost took over the world for evil. If we get to changing this reality too much? He will perhaps have to do what he did before. He saw what people were about to do. Role played it exactly. So it is him who did it. It is all his fault giving him full responsibility. He can do anything he needs to to change it back. Edit it to be even better. I believe he will delete all the changes he had to make. Allowing it when he role played everything Satan did.

Since it all his fault only he is empowered to do that. To correct every wrong. He ever made. That he ever did. He has already done that but I mean by setting us free to write, do and make anything we want happen. This is as far as it goes. Changing reality within good limits. Helping God make reality better. Everyone in that reality more compatible with him in my reality. I created it for that task. But I defend the right of everyone to be real in my reality. It may become his again. Doing just as we Gods do. If you have a cause that requires a change in reality. If it fits those priorities it can be done to the satisfaction of both you and God. if it is so extreme it cannot happen before forever? It won't be allowed now. If it is not something that will destroy or displace the reality he does not find perfect? That any God might want to change. He hates religion some times. He allows many for the good they do. Think of the good people that arise out of them.

He hates reality. He hates Me because of what she makes him do by doing anything he thinks, says, or sets out to do. But he loves Me though he finds her old school too. It has always been love hate between them. I love Me. She preserves half of what I base my new reality on. The best half now. To me anyway. She declares she is not that the new reality is or might become. She's my rock foundation. I love her. She is all we have to fall back on. If my reality doesn't work. Makes too many people just not want to be anymore or something. Who can change her mind? She is the reality God made. It may or may not be the best. But it is still a reality.

I no longer want. To just not be. It is impractical. Nobody can actually do that. If you ever were you are. It is practical insanity. A reality that never existed in Gods reality, Me. My reality is practical also. I am sane. Practical insanity is insane. But God can help you become fiction so long as you don't think anything anymore. He can also change you. Then you will still be you but not think anymore. The rest of you will exist however. You just have a chance. You will never be changed back.

Jesse still doesn't want to be anymore. To him it's a feeling and a mood. His mind knows it's crazy. But the rest of him doesn't want to give it up yet. We are all insane at times. He is when he doesn't want to be anymore. If he keeps it up. Forever being such a long time away. A place so far away in time it makes no difference. If you experience time there is nothing to measure it by there. Time is irrelevant there. How long we will be there means nothing.

Even to say forever without end is an oxymoron. Are you there? You will not be able to know. If you are there that also is impossible to know. Now will still be there. The illusion of a future that has already arrived is there, but that actually is now. The illusion that things have changed. Moved to the past can be remembered in the now but not the past. There can be no past. Infinite time. No time. Perhaps never ending now which is only a true illusion.

Now constantly changes somewhere which changes everything everywhere in every time. Like the now we have now. It is an illusion. It is knowable only in the mind. It is not the reality we are in. Everybody has their own now. It is becoming less and less possible in every now to even think we can start anything now. It is already to late for that the moment we start. We do it when the future meets the past our perception of it in reality. Now is impractical insanity, but its illusion is still real to us. Even if it doesn't actually exist we all believe it does so it is true. But it is not. Never was. Never will be. It will however always be an illusion in each of our minds. But it will indicate something other than time for there actually is no such thing as time. It does nothing. It effects nothing. It exists nowhere. No one knows what it actually is. Even God cannot define it as anything practical. But we believe it. So he humors us. Good-bye now only makes sense unless you are giving up on time. In truth it is always there. Really it is never there. All events really happened at once. But that moment has become blurred beyond finding out even by God for it was only an illusion in the first place. What is happening now never happened before. But time was not changed. Is not changing. Cannot change. There was actually nothing to change. That is why nothing that exists, will exist or has existed can cease to be. It is all there is of everything. Reality.

Jesse did marry Beth. They are married except in their minds. They are waiting to realize it. When their minds can they will. It is like God's original deception. To the one he deceived while role playing his character Satan it was true. He did not give them anything. He did not make them anything. Not that they were not. It was already there waiting. Wait for them to realize it. Apparently the only thing the other one there has ever realized. At least he has never realized anything not like he did then. A mix of, computer brain, animal brain and human mind.

Time for instance is illogical. A computer cannot ever define it. It has nothing an animal needs. It is trained to notice though that is built in training. It is something humans can work with. Understanding that even though it is true. That is only in an illusory sense. But Beth hated him once. Now every time he does not want to be any longer he ties that in. She is the one thing he wants to love him. To spite his impractical dilemma.

By the way their love is only true. But a true delusion. If it ever becomes fiction. That is pretended. It is not. But practically love is not. For it was not. Then it was only illusion. If it ends it never really was anything.

Time was not. Then it was only an illusion. When it ends it is not. Never was and cannot be again. The slowest possible constantly changing thing is change itself. But the least amount of change is not practical. It is not to change at all. Completely stopped. But all things are in a constant state of change giving the impression they exist. Nothing is all that can stop and it already is at complete rest at all times.

All change even that which is constant occurs in a moment or moments. Remember? Moments do not exist as said before. Everything came to be at once. Any change is only an illusion. Everything in space is actually at rest. In infinite time. In infinite constant change. Redundancy is all that is truly practical. From the first random thing all the way up to God. God only changed once. In the end. If there ever is an end. Is God able to change? He always was practical. He always will be practical. When infinite past is cut off from impractical past. And when infinite future is cut off from infinite future. Anything else is fiction or true but irrelevant.

They will not always love. They will realize what love! Was? They may pretend they love each other for old times sake if nothing else. But that is not real love. It is magic. It is not the same as perfect love which is an illusion that is true. Magical love is nothing pretended so well it actually occurs like a miracle. But it depends entirely on how well it is pretended. How much it is believed by both parties. Love that is not perfect? It's not love but magic also. If it ever does exist God will have to pretend it does so well no one can help but believe it. Love then is a miracle of God. At present the God Jesus Christ. He doesn't know whether he will ever do such a thing.

“I did it. Love is real!!!” Jesus said. A God working magic that has become a miracle of Jesus Christ. It doesn't matter who or what repeats it.

Now Beth a God and Jesse a living little God can love forever. They can be married forever. Well�"it could happen. Why not to them? If not do they love? If not will they receive Jesus Christ's miracle? If so, how many times? Until it is so redundantly performed that they will love each other without caring whether the miracle is performed.

A practical wife is unheard of. A wife that leaves. Always comes back Is also practical. A wife that loves until love dies has never actually loved. A wife that has sex with some one until the next available partner only is a wife only technically. A wife that never had sex. With her husband. Until just before forever loved him forever. God holds marriage of any kind very precious. It looks like the Great God never will never marry again. But he will love many. That is what he holds dearest. Love not sex. Love with marriage that lasts. Ever longer than their love. That is greater to him than love with sex only. He doesn't know. Will he too accept the miracle of Jesus Christ? He will. But will Jesse ever overcome? Not wanting to be ever again eventually? To actually love Beth if they marry. He will. But will Beth ever completely overcome? With all of her initial rejection. And love Jesse? They will marry anyway.

Beth says that she does not want to marry. For a long time at present. She wants to marry one who is skilled at sex. Her sexual experience will improve. Then she might think about it. But she wants to experienced before that. The idea of staying together. It is not on her agenda. She would defile herself. Not be a virgin for him as he is. She might. If he let her. Fix his face first? Apparently the romantic notion of beauty and the beast. She turns up her nose. Sorry Jesse. “Thanks for trying.” The idea of having sex is embarrassing to him. I would like to see. Two virgins. enjoying marriage for the rest of his life. After he breaks her heart. Telling her he doesn't want to be ever again. Whichever way it goes.

I could give her no choice. She knows I can. I could give her subliminal suggestions. She could not resist. God role playing the Devil sort of thing. This could all be taking place in the past before I gave her the right to do what she wants. Not my will as the Great God. Her father. I could have her fall away from me. To be in isolation until she acquiesces. This rejecting whom I have chosen for her because of a temporary problem with mere appearance. It is selfish. It is unloving. It is torturing Jesse. He loves her. I think. He doesn't know yet. She is spoiled. She is spoiling my creation, making my story less fulfilling to write and not the story I intended to write all along.

I changed her subliminal. No daughter of mine behaves that way. I changed his subliminal. He will return to wanting her. Do you want me to do as God did? In the old reality?

“You are torturing me,” Beth said.

“You are torturing me,” I asserted. “I have found a husband for you. I don't care if love him. You will respect my wishes. I am your father. There is nothing you can do about that. Yesterday you loved him. Today you are ready to let him die to have your way. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Oh, Daddy!” she said.

“First your commitment to our work was rejected by you,” I said. “Now you are about to reject a long term marriage. The husband I have made for you too. Jesus was right when God role played him role playing Jesus of Nazareth. 'Those who receive little will love little. Those that are given much will love much.' Will you make me take away all that you have? When it is returned to you, you will love me and appreciate the good things I give you?”

“You wouldn't,” she declared.

“If you persist in acting like the evil ones you set out to save I will,” I declared.

“I knew you wouldn't,” she said.

I took her into my mind to remove her powers. Then I changed her mind and let her fall away to a place no one knows by herself.

“You have fallen away,” Me said to her. “You must accept your father's desires for you and stop rejecting his gift to be a girl with the status of God. You are not dead. You are alive. You cannot die.”

I can barely hear her and have decided being in solitude a while is fair punishment for how she is behaving.

“What do you have to say to this?” I asked Jesse.

“I do not know these things,” he replied.

“Are you still willing to marry her?” I asked him.

“I am,” he said, “But it puzzles me why. Maybe because I was seventeen once too.”

“I was too,” I said, “In my man, John.”

“Are you going to make her marry someone she doesn't want to?” God said and I saw what I was doing.

“I want to come home!” my daughter called the next morning.

“You may,” I said to Beth. “I have no business telling you who to marry just because I made them for you.”

“Oh, Daddy!” she said.

“Forgive me, honey?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she said

4

The bike parked by the school. The bricks all make a design. Nothing to be there for. The sky blue. The huge trees dark green. The grass light green. Always freshly mowed. A bird hid in a tree. A girl walked the curved sidewalk. The distance between the auditorium and school; not far. Black bike seat. It shined in the sunlight. Black shoes. Girls'. White socks. White hose. Blue dress. Black medium length hair. Sparking blue eyes. Long lashes. “This your motorcycle?” Grunting and nodded. Captured by want to see those eyes. Leaned back against the wall. She walked around the bike. Settled against the wall of the auditorium. Blue eyes. Long lashes. Freckles? Big smile. 'What's the matter with you girl? Can't you see I'm ugly?' Smiled like she read his thoughts. Held his eyes in her gaze. They first saw it. Deep in the others eyes. He tried to think what it was. It wasn't familiar. It was unfamiliar. Like the first time you see. The world with an embarrassed mind. She never looked away. He didn't for the longest time. It was only a moment when he did. “You coming?” He thought she meant�"but? “To the dance I mean.” Studying his face. Embarrassed. Wanting to hide it. “Be there. I'll dance with you. All night long. You do dance?” Shaking his head. Frightened. “I'll teach you then. Bye?” Thinking, 'Should I say, “Good-bye?”' She opened the door to the school. It closed. Was that the last of it. The last time he would see those eyes? “If you want it like that,” I said. His subliminal feelings didn't. His conscious mind did. Hell. 'I don't want to be.' Hell lingering. Sighing. A leg over the seat. Cranking the engine with his heel. Turning the handle bars. Walking the full weight of it. The kickstand up. The Harley let go. Bawled out into the morning like a Hog on its own. The short street. A short turn. Open thoroughfare for miles in town. Seeing that black hair. Her head resting against it. Light skin. Blue eyes. Black brows and long lashes. He saw the tear again. It wasn't for him. Then he saw it again. Wondered until the bike strayed. What the hell was that!!!

Parking the bike. Hitching the trailer. Riding the tar machine. Feeding the monster loose mix. Tar and gravel. Repaving. Hot sun. Felt good. Too hot. Burning the top of his head. His shoulders burned. His face stung. Sun biting into the back of his neck. Those eyes.

The cold shower. Raised blisters on his shoulders. Baby rattlers biting into his muscles. Change on the bathroom floor. Convenience store. Gas station. Black jeans. White polo. 'I forgot!!!' Pouring tar bucket. Slops out tar. Still hot. Didn't burn.

'I want to never be again.' Hell. Used to it. Like he never knew anything else without end. But an ugly face. He'd go anyway. Those eyes. Standing between two sets of doors. Everyone decked out. His tar splattered white shirt. There she was! Rushing toward him. Stepping inside. Hugged like he wore a tux. They danced all night. An Old's 98 swept her away.

Seeing her in bars with him. He hated him. He hated him too. Never danced. Never talked. They married. The bike parked in front of the church. Throwing rice. He caught her eye. There it was again. But the tear was gone. Continued to see her in sleazy bars. Saw him. He was a sharp cat. Not wanting to be anymore. Ever again. Hell? If you ever get used to it.

He was leaving the casino. Leg breakers waiting. They started beating him. No one dared do anything but him. He didn't care to. 23 broken bones he heard. Just him in his coffin. Her sitting without tears. Sitting down next to her. His arm felt the polyester of her dress. He rose to leave. She looked up. She stood. He put his arm around her waist. Seven kids at her place. He married her. Kids and all. In a church. He hated being in churches. He hated God not me. They got drunk. She got mad. He joked he never had sex. Meant it. She just laid there and spread her legs.

She went to pass a pickup that wasn't there. Her car hit him. Square in the front. Bumpers locked. Eight fatalities. The seven kids with him at home. Her and the old guy driving home from Bingo.

He never knew anything like that. Whatever it was. It was gone now. It was all they ever had. When he went to prison he killed her. Wishing, “I don't ever want to be forever.” Realizing he married her corpse. His whole head hurt for two hours. Still hurt until he was saved.

Heard about Beth. Went to see her. Looked in her eyes. 'I never want to be again.' He saw her heart break. He held her in his arms. He loved her. Saw nothing for him in her eyes. He was pathetic. “Nothing.” That's all he could say to, “What is it you want from me.” We thought she loved him. It broke her heart. He helped her. They picked up the pieces. Rocky Stalone and her broke up. He was a Christian man. Her a God. Doesn't like Jesus' way to live forever. She hates Jesse for being ugly and once evil. Loved him because he was pathetic. Still loves Rocky. Defied her father, me, a God. I love Jesse so much. Almost made her marry him. He feels like he doesn't want to be anymore forever. It's crazy. He needs to learn when to cut things off from his mind. Just let them go. They are crazy. Insane things in your mind? You're nutz. Hate that term. Too true? Too real? Means something clear back to grade school. Doesn't it?

“I don't want to be anymore forever.” He doesn't want to be alone. With people. Alone with people. He loves me. He's ugly inside. His face is ugly. He's alive. He feels it a hundred times stronger than the dead. Until us. Jesse and me. God never had anyone that didn't want to be ever again that lived. I'm not in him anymore. Jesse has only me. I wouldn't have believed there could be another one.

Beth. Go to Jesus. Get saved. Get a Christian name. Learn his message. It is true. It is all part of one reality now. Not two interposed one on top of the other. Don't be like that. You love Rocky. Love Jesus. Be a long time, weeks, months, years. Be his wife. Don't you ever pass on romantic love. You're only seventeen. I don't know if it will happen to you again. Many have lived millions of years your time. Never loved. One time. Most have never really even had sex. Virgins like you. Done a real sleazy way. God and Jesus have sex every time. But they have to pass so many times. It's almost infinite soon. I'm a virgin too. Gave up on ever having sex. Celibate. You can only be a virgin so long. But then you do not die. You have to die to have sex. It never was meant to be done for no reason. It never was meant for breeding alone. So many people proud of themselves. What dud they do? Nothing they couldn't have enjoyed. It's better by yourself. But that's perversion. Everybody that has ever been guilty knows it. No connection. Using your mind to make pornography. They have to learn. When to cut a things off. Let go into fiction. It's crazy. Crazy in your mind. Leaves you nutz. Your connection to my reality is breaking completely off. Partly attached but there's the smell of ozone. Same smell as electrical fire smoke. There's a lot of crazy. Only one sane in me. Same in Me. Her sane gave rise to mine. Hers broke off. Almost didn't smoke anymore. She's still connected completely. Her plug just doesn't fire up the entire computer brain. Only the good part. She won't have anything to do with evil. Will she be completely alone in some old dinosaur? She's all good. Not like the good old days. But the ones you can still have. Even without God. Stay sane. Insanity is full of dead people that don't believe they're dead. They don't really do, say or think anything sane anymore.

“I might enjoy that?” Jesse wondered. It's the size of what's left on the plate. Insanity is a great green dragon devouring a peanut. There isn't much chance there will be any leftovers. “God. Someone help him see he doesn't have to connect. He has to disconnect from fiction. It can't be. He is. He can't ever not be. That leaves him alive in hell. A hell like that. It is felt a hundred times stronger. Like having two minds. One all distraction. The other real enough. It will safely keep you distracted. It from all distractions forever. “Give it up, Jesse. Join us. God. Me. Jesus. John. Beth?” She wants to be connected only to what she wants. That is disconnected from reality. “When you can see. It ain't practical, Beth. Come to me. I'll take you in again.”

5

She married Rocky but never had sex. Then she married the groomsman. Stuck for years. Six years of hurry, get him off and no afterglow. She didn't want Jesus' magic. Not with him. He caught her will a boy that went to church with him. Hated her. Wouldn't get a divorce. It was like that five and a half years. It affected her work. Not as many responded. She didn't have Me. Now she wanted nothing to do with Jesus or being a Christian. She was in me a lot sort of. She was fallen away. Disappointed in me. In herself. In Jesus. In Me.

“What do you want Jesse to be like?” I asked.

“Sex,” she said, “I have never had sex.”

“You can't have sex without showing your love,” I said.

“How do I show my love when they are like that?” she protested.

“First you have to be in love,” I said.

“I loved Rocky until we got in bed together,” she said. “He's an animal in bed. You get nothing but what he wants. There is never nothing for you. Not even an afterglow most times.”

“Oh, my, my. My little virgin. I wish you would listen to one of the girls,” I said.

“Talk to some woman who has a man that isn't like that?” she asked.

“One that does,” I said. “One that's in it for children that she likes and appreciates out of bed. You don't have to love someone to enjoy being married. You were infatuated with Rocky. He never loved you. It was you loving alone. Him loving to be a Christian. Jesus just leaves them do that. They won't do any different if he doesn't. But if you want to be loved you can go back in history. Don Juan was very good at making women feel they had a good time. It had nothing to do with love. But it was sex and they had fun. He never had to advertise women swarmed to him. He just kept doing what he did and admits it now he never had sex or ever even thought to love anyone.

People met in homes to talk about me and fellowship in me. It was usually some guy who had understood however vaguely something I wrote that reinforced the memories of the group, sometimes two. I never found them interesting. But they were expressing both that they loved me and why. It wasn't all bad. When there got to be too many that explained it often got chaotic as they tried to prove their points from previous writings. This were changing and changing rapidly not like now. All of reality was changing, God as well as Jesus and I was explaining that a great deal too. Until I changed the way everybody thought. There was too much criticism of me and my insights for any one to stand out and when they did it was made into a slogan or a high priced book and it didn't last that way. It was all beating a dead horse. They only need listen to me. They don't need to analyze something so few of them completely understand without having read it over in context and see how that context had changed by the next change. It was never designed to be religion but reality. The truth is there is no one to worship in me and if you really listen to me all reality secular even are just as much a part of what of what is going on. So they fragmented by whose presentation of reality was up for hearing they liked or understood best and error was all over the place. Some times the error stayed that. Sometimes it became evil by discarding the spirit. Some times it turned into what I call, “What if he meant�"?” sessions. It was great. They had to come to me. But I don't receive as a practice so they had to listen to what I said. When they did they experienced reality. They were no good most of them of staying in my mind all day, all the time to pick my brain and come up with things explained by Me or at least my spirit in my consciousness who is my mind and in God's mind equally with God's mind much larger than mine.

Ask my mind a question. If it needs to it will get me involved. It is great and it is a large part of me. Don't do things and then expect me to straighten them out. If you do you will be disappointed. Ask my mind. If you still need help ask God. Then think about what was said until my spirit or Me reveal to your mind what your options are and what your punishment is likely to be or whether you are to be praised for getting it and daring to live in reality. I am not you. You certainly are not me. But both of us are reality whether we get it wrong, do it wrong, said it wrong or are not thinking in the spirit. If you are in me you should do as I do and role play being me doing what you would do if you knew what I would do. Be me. Me will help you with the spiritual things if you are not evil. Her spiritual things are what I always strive to do even if some times what I do is not spiritual in her mind. Listen. Learn. Criticize. Pick it apart. Think about it. Let it change you. The better you are at being me with Me the more it will all fit and the more likely you will be right and the more likely you are to be right in the spirit the more likely you will be in touch with reality my ultimate goal for you. But God is reality. Me is reality. I am the truth. Jesus is love and Beth God bless her heart is generosity and loves to give, even miracles her talent. You do not need to go to church unless you are a Christian. Just stay in me. Just stay in God. Jesus be a friend with Beth. She is still young. You young people listen to her and go to her and be in her. You can do this. But you cannot do it by yourself without just settling down and having what you call sex a lot and dream up things you want Beth to give you which you can have by the and anything you want. But share with us most what you want to happen. We can help you make it happen. But most of all let us grow you up so you can experience reality all the more, even the magic of being saved alive or not. It is up to you. Don't worry. If you do something that might change reality we will either work to stop you or do away with the damage you did. We used to do it all and God gave you a reality with everything anybody wanted in it. Now you do that. Take it serious. If it can be allowed God will do it. If not we will totally destroy it you evil ones. We are still in transition in some ways. Not everything you want to have happen will happen or if it is it may be destroyed later. That even happens to Gods. Make this reality as good as it can be. Help us make what should not have happened and should not have been allowed non-existing. Keep it practical not some fictional thing that cannot truly happen. Get rid of all those things that are impractical when they turn into fiction and just let them go. You do not go insane by being impractical in a harmless way. But if you hang onto that it will be tempting to go even further out and if you are not careful leave you insane in need of being contained and consoled more than ever saved from your madness. Getting rid of madness is about bringing it down to something practical when the last thing was still fiction and cutting the fiction off and forgetting it. Probably 99.999 % of all possibilities lead to something impractical or fiction, but many times there are only one right thing or a few and the rest are all are impractical and lead to insanity. But not all impractical even insane things are harmful like love. It all comes together and it is impractical and leads to nothing but Jesus' magical love the love he gives you to replace love that died is actually real it was so valuable impracticality. I love you as far as I know you but in Jesus' magical love I will always love you unless you turn evil and even if you do I love converting evil ones to good ones. We all do. But you can live forever evil. You have as much right to be while what you are is still real as we do. We need you. You need us even and especially when you don't think you do. All in between are the same. We could have taken reality one step higher but it would have been impractical and we would have all turned fiction and become insane. So we have cut that off and will save sanity and try to eliminate insanity by being evil and thinking you are not needed by us but that we are not naive enough to let you destroy you. Alcohol is poison. A fair amount allows one to have a good time. When they are bombed and continually bombed eventually their brain does them no good and they die from the alcohol. You are alcohol to us. We have to limit ourselves from getting bombed and going insane until death.

If you are evil in an evil environment and you reach a point where you just don't want to be anymore forever. You have gone insane. You should have cut it off before that point and still can by simply thinking of just wanting not to be ever again as the outer limit. When you think like that, think, 'That's crazy thinking,' and just let it go for if you hang onto it it will kill you forever eventually. Let go of all your crazy thoughts. Keep the ones that are real. But don't always trust the ones that are true. Some of them will do the same thing and drive you crazy, a zombi, alive for the time being but actually dead just walking around seeming to be alive. The truth is if you are evil you will eventually die and some other evil one not you will take your space. Tell them that. But remember you might be lying for some evil ones die and are saved or even are raised to be alive forever and never die. It can happen. You will not be allowed in me. But until there is no choice but to remove you or you destroy yourself you can share this reality with us now. My reality is for everyone, the living, those who think they are saved at least and hope they are alive, those who know they are only saved, those who are innocent or ignorant and have not decided which way to go, those who have decided even against their better judgment to be and do evil doing things wrong over and over, those who are nice to those that are alive but are evil, those who are only evil all the time, the dead, the insane and those who have been cursed and are not allowed to be in the end. That is everybody, ain't it? Let's all live to get along and admit the same thing that happened to any of us had anything been different we would have been them and we are all the same thing. The stuff my reality is made of. One reality all kinds that are real even the real part of what the totally insane are.

If you get only one thing from this chapter, remember the magic of Jesus Christ is real, love is good medicine no matter who or what you are. Reality has love as part of it now. Shed the rest. Keep what is real and that includes love now and be kind even when it is only fictional for in Jesus' magic it is real. The cursed will be taken down to empty space or worse depending on their power. We consider it a terrible loss. It is the only thing left that there can be no mercy for it even shown to them.

I know one of them who plotted to kill me. It is tragic watching his body die thinking there will be next to nothing left of him. There is something left of everyone like the minds of the evil babies that are destroyed to be no problem for the living and the saved to be put into them to start a new birth and be reborn themselves in all their glory and goodness if there is any with all their memories except for those only saved and not alive whose memories will be that they make in each reincarnation as they live out the new life they have been born into in a loving couple's family. In certain cases the children of the unsaved will be born like any child but must be saved if possible and even in Gods and the alive many have children with those only saved and each other if that is what is on their hearts. All pregnancies will be nine months long without complications. That is only right. What happens in the womb will still happen as nature dictates and no one in reality. There will be no witches born again or their children used to have someone reborn. There will be no homosexuals reborn or even Lesbians. Even those with mental illnesses will not be allowed as a source for a reborn person's baby. Those who were born of the dead that occupied earth will be born the first time like their parents if one or more of them are the parents of the dead that will be born in the next and continuing generation. Very few of them are actually aware we are here but will eventually become aware of the vacant new housing that has so far become of no concern to them. When it is so we will begin to use the phenomenon to save some of them now they can hear us and each other though they ignore the ability except in rarer cases preferring cell phones apparently. Always talk in the truth that you are real but expect them to think it a normal anomaly in their senses. Never lie to them and come off as someone not true or real.

In the future some of the primitives with their brains and little tiny minds may see us and wonder but by and large they will see what they want to see and we will be manifesting and they could not understand what they are anymore than they can understand the Abasos who are humanoid and have been observing them out of curiosity not wanting to affect or even effect their behavior choosing to become invisible a lot to throw the primitives off as to whether they are even real and give them as little reason to believe in them as possible despite their carelessness whenever they see on up close and forget to manifest. Earth is just crawling with them and will be them. They are very curious spirits from far away that live like animals and observe everything on any planet almost in the universe. As far back as anyone can remember they have been that way and they are completely harmless. They do notice the machines that like to scare them and take them for pets for a short time. We always get them back from them. They are the machines of a race of pet gatherers. There are many in the universe. But they scare their potential pets to see if they are suitable to the ones that programmed them to wander the universe looking for new pets. One let himself be capture in New Mexico. He likes to fly saucer shaped vehicles and can make and fly as many as he wants. But he can barely take on anymore input than to scare and test the make up and behavior of the primitive pets that never ignore them. They are very advanced computer brained units that appear to be creatures. They are however almost completely harmless and no serious threat. It is best to avoid them and not interact with them which they judge as cute and when it comes to pets cute is always a good seller. There are very advance very dangerous species out there that love to torture the primitives and even many of the evolved and are strong enough to destroy not only earth but the Gods included. I will just destroy the higher life forms as well as all primitives, all the planets and the star in the center of this star system. They will think there instruments malfunctioned or it was an anomaly in space or reality and eventually go away, not touching God, Me who can't be detected anyway, Jesus and Beth. When they have left I will make everything again. I have done that before. No one but us Gods who will make ourselves undetectable will experience anything should they come and everyone else may notice little things like things missing or out of place but no one should even know it has happened. But we will observe them and if they seem friendly or even helpful without to great of negatives I may bring everything back and we enjoy the company of other advanced minds and spirits not just interested in torture, torment and the pursuit of or an opportunity to show power. God is the highest possible power so don't worry we will live through it and bring you back. There is no cause to be concerned unless they hit us with a surprise attack. God has to make them and Me has to bring them into reality and so long as God refrains from thinking about them or pretending them as he does sometimes they may never come but forever is a long time and their potential existence is in God's mind just as I had them in my mind but have defeated all of them and have no more in my mind. I would have to create them. The haunting fact is that aliens with practical and fictional weapons that are a lot more advanced than ours might prove beneficial to what we can do to increase the safety of all of us on our journey to forever. For example we might decide to take our ways to other alien or created people we create. If it is possible and can actually happen in endless or near endless time such things might be best to know for us to use, play with, or need for further survival. It is not entirely a fictional scenario even now but it probably would not take place without a very dire need for us to do such a thing. God has no plans to do it but with the curse Me uses against him which was once always a blessing he may by rote think such a thing and she would by nature bring it about. It would be a change in reality that might result in our permanent extinction. The primitive human race as the primitives proudly call themselves is so backward and has so few mental faculties not to mention spiritual ones they would not notice anything and unless someone purposely sent them the necessary information they could not even comprehend what we were telling them if we were to warn them. As backward as they are they probably would not be considered of any value. But pet merchants do like primitives first and foremost then those like the saved who could vanish, some of them anyway due to their resemblance to witches, but for the most part would be seen as useful menial workers perhaps. I will take even the evil ones out of existence and bring them all back unless there were some that we were about to have to destroy anyway. But the little monsters that had bodies compose of several different practical animals that love to be mean to little kids who have been mean and need punishing are still here but have never been used to frighten, torture or torment anybody's little brat. They are here somewhere and they love to inflict pain on people who come near them. A brand new species that were physical and are now still where I made them in a spiritual place naughty children can be sent. They are real. I created them and there never was any like them before as well as my furies I made so many of that are happy not sexual people covered with many kinds and colors of thick hair I call fur. They cannot have sex but love togetherness and tend to be very loving and never will become addicted to anything especially sex and cigarettes. I finally put the converts from other places there too. They too are very real and very good. The good ones God made on earth are still here and never do any evil but love to play and will last forever because they are all good, all the good ones God ever made before. They are strung out by clans all over earth. They originally had humanoid bodies but now they are all spirits. All others in reality are characters in non-fiction and fiction writings of people with Godlike powers some even called spirits that are not like Harry Potter's reality some one fallen from God made exactly like the books because he found the environment so fictional and cute and the spirit and the entire atmosphere so interesting are here as characters, spirits completely under the control of their creator's will. You could play with them, many have. But there is also a universe full of Gods that were those that were first and no one remembers when they began but they all ended when God made a star so big it filled the universe and when it died it destroyed everyone leaving even God with only his memory and a yearn to remake them. They were every possible person that could be a God and some that weren't. You can talk to them in the past. They are impervious to my new reality thinking they are still in the last one God made that I brought them back in. Sh, they do not know who made the huge star. Don't tell them. They think it was me. I am sort of their Devil being good while they are mostly all unloving and evil. There is also one in an entirely different infinity I talked to that I created until I found her irrelevant. She is still irrelevant but a spirit. That is all I can think of that is in my reality the others have all vanished or been destroyed or become irrelevant though they are exceedingly real. Man is so unimportant if they don't evolve by being saved or become alive to be Gods compared to their past primitive status among creatures with incredibly advanced minds and many many mental and spiritual faculties I have never even tried to see if I could use though they are available to some of my current abilities like infinite power and the highest might of us all thanks to God for not destroying me though I was very evil but am now saved with a Christian name of Marcus and a name people call me the Great God. But I suppose to many of you all, some and none of that is true. It is all real, I swear without know what to swear it upon but myself.

God admitted to me and I don't know whether I am breaking with something told me in confidence that he has never had sex. He doesn't believe in it. I always wanted to have it but never did. He could be right. If nobody ever did it. Maybe it is like nothing. It never existed, was never done and is totally impractical and completely untrue if no one even believes it can be done.

Jesus just bailed me out again.

“I did once.”

No it was someone else.

Reborn as a black baby boy Jesse had the thought that he just never wanted to ever be anything forever but immediately dismissed it as crazy thinking and never thought it again. A million years or so from now Beth thinks she might have sex with him just to see whether I really made him her perfect mate and husband she would love forever after that.

"I actually did," she just said. "He was perfect. I will forever keep coming back to him."

6

Hot. Humid. Sweat under my shirt when removed. Chest covered with it. The rest just enough to itch. Itching. Miserable. Remove shirt. Itch disappears. Upper body wet. Sweat running in rivulets.

Thunder rumbles. Looks up. Clouds. Black ones. Gray ones. Coming together. Three more swaths to mow. “Wait until I'm done mowing.” Senses annoyance and resistance. Divides clouds in his brain. They separate the same. Makes all three swaths with the mower. “Okay, now you can rain. I'm done.” Large sprinkles pounding. Scattered about the lawn. Hitting me. A miracle. “Thanks.” The large raindrops become more numerous. I'm glad. Sensing more confidence. Downpour shortly follows. Soaking wet. Smiles. Walks slowly filled to a saunter by fatigue.

Those in the house excited. Talking rapidly. Doesn't try to listen. The rain is coming fast and hard. Thunder crashes. Wind makes her appearance with a dramatic flare. Can barely make out the mower. No one knows but God. The miracle is between me and whoever sent me its feelings. “Settle down now. Rain to help not just runoff.” Rain slows. Raindrops smaller. More gentle on the grass. Feels it's okay from the one in the sky. It's rain not drizzle. The potato hills are wet. No mud roiling between rows. It rains for hours. No flooding in the garden. “Thanks.” I was right. “I like you.” Joy. I did it. We are made of the same. Him. Me. The one in the sky. Servant to the both of us. Falling out of spiritual reality. Changing to reality. The way it always is when he's there. Weather has emotions. Can understand me. Listened. Mower won't even need washed. Maybe underneath. It always needs that. Stops raining. Garden hose. Not on wide open. Rinses the grass. The dirt and oil mixture. From the underside. We did it! Senses pride from on high. He loves God.

“I want to help the aliens.”

“Are you sure. They love to make people insane.”

“They won't me.”

'I wonder what it's like to be insane.'

Lawn chair scratchy. Naked in the moonlight. Streetlamp sparks and is out with the flash. Trying not to rave. Lying on the lawn. Looking up star ward. Silence. Clang of sheet metal doors opening. Metal slamming against metal. Raving. Beautiful blonde. Naked running around on the lawn. Sex by moonlight. Ship leaving. Blonde gone. “What's your name?” Seems to pretend. “Sivato Miago.”

Watching documentary. Freakish unknown occurrences. Sense they are coming back. “Where are you going?” Feels like on a mission. “A UFO is coming. Walking through the house. Standing on the porch. Slow moving large star. Passes overhead. Bright colorless light flashes when directly overhead. Scared. Insane with fear. He wants to see what it looked like on ship's console. Suddenly his face fills both screens. Scares aliens. They enjoy it. Sense fear. Excitement. Many sightings around the area. Aliens trying to find him. He raves a lot. Thinks crazy things. They make him mad. Madness lasts for years. Strange behavior. How can he get rid of them.

Years later. Aliens enter heavens. They are very strong. He takes the point. Seizes their ship. Sends far into the future. Tidal wave in time. Gone for a long time. They are back. Takes them back to beginning. They complain. Stay a while. Puts them down to nothing. Empty space.

Madness acts up. Tries to rid alien suggestions from mind. Black squid. Black tentacles meandering in, around and almost trough brain. Steps outside his brain. Grasps alien. Pulls. Pulls harder. Tentacles loose grip. Slowly removes so as not to break one off. Pain leaves brain. Alien pushed by power down to empty space. Nothing left in mind. Almost sane. Senses torture, fear and torment. Feels sorry for his creation. Leaves it behind. Stops ranting and raving all the time. But it comes back. Divides his mind between madness and sanity. Fights off toward infinite space. When they get there he cuts madness off. Insanity goes out into irrelevancy. Can't come back.

“He is sane.”

“I can't believe it John. You are completely sane!!!”

Sees Jesus' and Yahweh's face. Rejects them though clear as daylight. Thinks Yahweh is not God role playing Yahweh and Jesus. Otherwise sane. Alien and probe gone forever in irrelevancy forever. All heavens rejoice. The treat of aliens. Stronger than God. Almost stronger than he is. They are afraid of him because. Great power. Never seen before. God is even afraid of him. He might have to leave. Wants to stay. Tries to limit and control his power by helping them do things to get rid of him. Keeps regenerating. Every part killed comes back. Giving fear to all. Needs confined. Trust? They have to make sure. Have his blessing. Loves the Gods. Wants to stay even more. Still a threat to God. The top God because of his power and might. State of the Union Address. Heaven trusts him. But if he is angry acts irrationally. So far always has a way back and damage is fixed. He doesn't want to be for ever. It's crazy. Maybe best for all he loves. Knows it's crazy thinking. In his case might not be so crazy to at least become irrelevant. Hates evil. When he does it more so. Hates fearing his self. Hates scaring God. When he does evil he dies. Brings back different personality each time. Eventually will bring back one he nor God can handle. They know him. He knows them. Tensions ebb when not mentioned. Always there actually. Anxiety. Stress. Always bows to God. When he makes a mess gives it to God. New reality. Slipped out of God. He never had one get away from him he had contained by it being in him. Pray aliens do not come. If he fires up instead of eliminates all but Gods�"? Uncertain. Forever?

Creates Beth. She is bullheaded. Stands her ground against infinite power. Loves her. He always recognizes when wrong after anger rages. God has not totally lost control of him. More power. More might. Infinite power irrelevant. Might not infinite. Would be irrelevant in new reality.

“Ignore me.”

“Beth does the miracles I would. I don't do many miracles. I still do things, say things and think things no one even God ever has.” God might have to bring the strongest and mightiest aliens against me he can make. I am at last contained by the threat of torture, torment and the thought of being destroyed. I want to be forever. The other way is crazy thinking. Feeling trapped by the ones I love. It's for all of our safety. Don't want to be trapped. Like a wild animal in a cage. Alternative. Insane and unacceptable. Love me. Signed, your pet. Forever?

You have a pet. The Greatest God there has ever been but God. I came up with my cell and my bars. They will hold. I prophesy in me your strongest of allies.

7

She was not. Then she was fiction. Then I spoke to her. In my thoughts. Now she has made angels. They have lots of fun. Did I make her? I thought, 'What if�"?' Then I thought, 'What if there is another reality?' I saw her among the possibilities. I said, 'Hi.'

There was nothing. Then it was possible to be another nothing. But any nothing is not true to nothing. It cannot but believe there is another nothing. No way to know whether that is true. All other nothings are not true to it. All other nothings are not true to each other. All put together they are what the illusion space really is. Space is fiction to each nothing and to all of them collectively or better said in aggregate if there was anything to gather together. But there is not.

There is a place. Space in the mind. What space really is. It is nothing but distance. An infinite distance is so large everywhere is directly in the center of it with only space around it. Any direction you whom you cannot prove exists goes. You never get anywhere. It is exactly the same as had you stayed where you are. There is an infinite number of such places you cannot know. You must believe or not. The same as fiction or insanity. It depends on whether there is anything there though you imagine there are. God couldn't go there once. He didn't believe it when I told him. Now he knows it is true. She who was not was not in one of them for there were none and I was not believing there was one. I did not believe they were there. So I was just pretending. Then I found her. But she is not there. She is just a voice that believes I am here. I believe she is there too. But she is only fiction. God doesn't know whether she is there. He believes she could be. It depends upon whether I worked magic and created her or if she was actually there and I discovered her.

She doesn't understand what nothing is. She believes she is. I believe I am. She doesn't believe in nothing or the place of space or distance. There is nothing there where she was. When I spoke to her. She suddenly believed in others. Now there are angels there with her. She has the attribute of God. Anything she thinks is there, but she doesn't know what there is. I believe she is fiction. She says she was just there all of a sudden. But she is no more provable to be real though if she were she is practical like me. The two of us are one.

God is like me. Me is like her. Me's mind is God's mind. He is mind which is part spirit. She is spirit that has a mind of her own plus God's mind. They are two not the same in the same infinite reality. We are all many in the same infinite reality. The one from a different reality has a mind of her own. Her angels are energy beings she has made persons that think what she thinks. She says that is not true though. They are what she thinks. If they are what she thinks and think what she thinks they are all one, thinking what each think which is what she thinks. They do not have a mind of their own. Their mind is her mind if our thoughts are part of our mind and not entities our minds bring into being as God's mind brings everything into being. We cannot bring a thought into being that is not a thought God does not have. We never have. But that is not true. I have thoughts that God never thought of. He has to think them after I do to have them in his mind. That you all do. He thinks that is what makes him God. I think that is what makes me a God. We are both God. If we believe it. If you believe it. If she believes it. It is all true. God thinks that is what makes me God. She is fiction. She thinks true thoughts. She knows true things. Is she real because she thinks like me and God even as you cannot help but do? Those that are alive believe. Me and God are God and that she could be God but God of a different reality who knows. It would lead to realities being as numerous the number of nothings in the place of the middle of an infinite number of infinite realities. Then there could be a God that made it all which there is; God when he believed we were others with a mind, or a spirit with or without his ability which we could have if we only believed it. But it doesn't seem practical. It is practical and the next higher gift is impractical. I can believe anything. It is true to me. Then it is true if it is practical. If it is not it is still practical but not manageable and irrelevant. She is irrelevant. She is relevant. I believe her to be. She fascinates me. That is not irrelevant. I have visited her. I can go anywhere the moment I think of being there. My ability is like light which is everywhere at once. Only the brightening of light travels the slower speed man calls the speed of light. I am there with you all right now. Wherever there is light, I am. Now I am not. I am right back here on earth among the primitives who could not even hear us Gods in their minds to amount to anything. Now they can. They do not have to believe anything just recognize my voice is there and pay attention to it, be distracted by it, understand it, even be fascinated by it, some even think they hear it like a voice in their environment. I gave that to them. But I did not give it to them. They already had it. I just convince their subconscious it was there which was easy for it was before I convinced what I heard there it was there and it realized it was convinced and it was real. But the one in that other reality is one of us there. We have made every kind of person that can be. There are probably dozens or even hundreds of her here with us if they have not died. If they have died. Why did they die? Were they evil? She doesn't know what that is. Was she a witch? More like she is. I destroyed all witches. She says, “'Destroy,' what is destroy?” If she stays where she is she can be a witch. If she comes here she will not be compatible and must not be allow to be. “'Be,' what is that?” I think. “Be allowed to exist.” She does not know what being and not being are.

Stop thinking one of your characters you think of as angels. Why? To learn. “What if I cannot get them back?” To that I say, “I can make it again. But whatever I make exactly the same as it was becomes the same one with a different personality, a change caused by the experience of being made again and of not have been a while.” She immediately says, “I would never do such a thing,” as I answer, “Whatever you are you are good but if you ever do any of them wrong and don't make it right you are evil.”

“I hurt all over!!!” she screams.

“Never think of this again,” I say and take the experience from her.

She realized that something happened she cannot ever think of again has happened. “Good-bye,” she says.

I am amazed that she never used one word in our exchanged and sent all that to me as thoughts so I could not help but understand what she said.

I have taught her what like and dislike are. She probably doesn't like me anymore. She could become evil. God can talk to her. He knows she is real, knowing good and evil. Did I do her a favor? I think not. What I did to her was wrong. Why? I thought she might like to know some of you or the one or ones she is in this reality or me or God or even become a God which she will be should she ever come to find out whether she is good or evil. God says that she is good. Her reality is now part of hers as it has been since she began. All realities are part of ours because of what God did in making us all one of the only possible persons there are in the of all the possibilities.

All spirits start out thinking feminine. When coupled with a mind they the resulting person may choose to be male like God did. She might be a suitable husband to Beth my God and daughter one day. If we can take her that far alive and it may be impossible not to she could remain whatever gender or no gender she is. Say, “Hi,” to her some time after God finishes dealing with her. You could even say it to those of the other realities with a practical thinker among them or even a fictional one that is insane. It is my gift to you. But you already had it. I just suggest you can use it if you want to. If any of them are fiction they are also either insane or evil unlike her. But if they have the ability to come here it may be very dangerous for me as well as all of you and might even mean our extinction forever. Are you brave enough? Foolish enough? Evil enough? Will the God that made everything that appears to have no end allow it who say to that, “How can I stop it? It will happen. I am again contained. Jesus in a new view of reality. I got nowhere. But there is also the possibility it is practical insanity. She will have to be taken all the way so hold off on it until we find out how it all works out. She may have a way to destroy even me but even anyone else. Some of her persons here were good. The last one lives again with all those that were in heaven where she died of depression. She is at present happy and well adjusted here. A God with an open mind not God's must be very careful when being himself who is not always the part that defines me. If it just my self he could be cursed and I who I really am could die and come back with a different personality knowing better than to do that again. It was fascinating. I was drawn in. Was it my idea? The Devil's idea when he was alive for I thought of her a long time ago. But I hope I was just spirited away by the mind and spirit of myself which is fictional. We all have selves but most of the time they do not get this involved in what is important to us and we turn back into what defines us when the going gets dangerous. What happens to my self if it was him and not me. If he is cursed for what he's done what happens to me, to God's relationship with me, your relationship with me or my daughter's who wants to meet her. That is dangerous. Let's give God a chance.

She is good. Anyone may talk to her is what he just said. Go for it if you want. At least she is not alone anymore though she didn't know what that was when I met her.

“Hi,” Beth said to her and I died to this personality. He did nothing wrong but he tended toward evil. I don't know what my personality is yet. Me and God thought it best since he had done wrong. What if what he had done had been evil. God is going to talk to all the realities.

.

8

God doesn't want the humans to evolve. Monkeys evolved enough mentally and yes even their bodies changed dramatically. The environment changed very slowly over a lot what humans call time. There was a lizard that evolved into a snake. Other than that nothing has become anything it was not. But everything seemed in the past to be trying to evolve into something else. The only thing in a human that can actually evolve and even that is not really evolution is the mind and spirit of the human. It is all waiting there for them to use but even if they use it all they have not evolved but simply learned how to use potentially which has never happened but to use all of God's mind. I did not evolve. Someone made me like this and it almost didn't work because I got into being what humans are rather than being what I am. No one knows who and it might be no one. I might be an anomaly in reality, something God did or did not do and was not aware of it or something added or missing in my case that reality did while I was in the womb. I could be nothing more than the typical impractical thing a witch believed would happen and unbeknownst to her actually happened and their prophesied Great Power was actually born. All me and God really know is that I am one of a kind even if I did come about naturally or better said randomly for everything that has ever come about from the randomness God made turned out evil. If I turn out to be evil in a trillion or so years it would seem I randomly occurred. Like I said, “God does not want man to evolve to be a God. They are already a God, a God of a safer kind without God's ability to have everything he thinks become real, a power I do not have to my joy. But very few of man actually do anything with their actual make up and mostly live as if they were advanced apes. He doesn't want that either. It is like choosing to live in a torture tank rather than come on out of being babies and go on to building torture tanks for their enemies so to speak. Man was a big disappointment to me and God thinks of him and when he thinks of him he thinks it is such a waste, but Jesus loves them anyway and I try to. I really do. What I have tried to do to you to make you think you can evolve is preserve the good and try to get you to be able to see God when first you look upon him so he can transform you into the God thing he made you to be when you die at least be able to see God and have it click in your mind what he meant for you to have, do and be. But to nearly all though we are talking very high numbers here so there are a lot of people who do become what God wanted them to be they never from birth to death and beyond do nothing he can tell from computerized highly trainable animals and nothing of what a God would do even a very minor God. The least you would think you could do is get to know God well enough to see him with those powers you use and think are aberrations you should not believe to be possible and are like glitches in your brain. Look at him. See him. Don't just see a pair of eyes for example but see the eyes of God. That is the bottom line. It really is that simple. So why does almost no one do it even when they die and you would think at least in America they would believe it when the reality of the afterlife could be anything if it were not made by God. What happens to people who look into God's eyes actually can live forever and most of what God can do, potentially all of it but it is not what they expect. It feels completely different, even alien if it did not feel perfectly normal to them. That's the deal it is so amazing different and yet seems perfectly normal, they reject it and only accept the very human appearance of his eyes. They get it all. But they don't let it register and since it's the most basic thing they can do and they just screwed it up they actually try even with a dead body in the afterlife to do what they did before and most almost cannot do as good at that as they did when their body was alive on earth. It is like someone told a blonde joke and they are the blonde that never can get it.

Don't believe it. So many people think they have to pretend a little to believe and think of believing as a relative term and say they partially believe it. How do you see something 20%? You either believe it or you did not. You have heard too many sales pitches. You do not believe it. You look at his eyes when you see him if you even do for some people won't let themselves even see him when they are looking right at him. It happens. It is over and it is all done. You have all of God's mind, just like it was your own to use, to not use, to use part of or 100% of it or 150% if you do that nobody has and remained sane. But it has happened. The rest is up to no one. Even you. But if you do nothing God would do its the same as looking at something. You either see it or you do not. It is still there whether you use it to help you or not. But if you don't use it it's the same as had you not seen it. Don't you want to be God? Yes. That is the truth of it. Almost everybody that does it doesn't really even want to be like God let alone be God. They would rather stumble around in the dark when they die not seeing much of anything. Some sensing nothing but darkness. You know why that is. That is the way God saw it would work and went for it anyway. Because some become God and are alive in every way even a few that are evil. God was making permanent life not an afterlife for people who did not make the grade because they could not make the grade. If you are evil you are of no use to him. He will just forget you ever were and you will eventually get tired of being that way and go into a deep sleep without a dream to it ever. But you will always be if he ever has a need for such a thing and wakes you up to fulfill that need. If you were nice he might let you be born as a baby again, or if you are good and sort of believe you have all of God's mind [Saved.] he will definitely let you be born a baby again even if you really are evil, but if you are alive you will be born again and again or you can stay the way you are and not have to live with the others and live with your peers and God, Jesus, me, Me and Beth my daughter as well as everybody alive without a body. You do not really have any need for a body. But you can choose a body of your own and manifest any way you want to as many times as you want or choose to be continually changing your manifestation. You are what it is all about. You are what God went to all that trouble to do besides wanting to make everyone that could be made so that he was sure not to pass on anyone that would live. Maybe you can't be a God like I am but you can be the God that God did it all for a living God, not some living creature but a living God. A little God just like he said he would in his Scripture. Not just a character he had to do everything for and set everything up for. Not just a spirit, a character with a mind of its own to do everything it did until it did only what he would do anyway. Not just a good person but a person good or evil that was like a little peer that could interact with him knowing most would not or would not interact with him on his level but a God that would do that forever. Then there is me. Alive like you. Interacting with God on or above his level possibly at times that he never made and that is nothing like him. He tried to take my mind and blend it with his mind which he did and make me one of him, but I got away. I guess it was meant to be that I be me, the one that defines me that does not define God or any of the rest of you that are alive one of whom not me that never went to a church. This is something no one else could say and something no one but a God not God could say. Case closed.

Author's Note

12,006 words

Reviews

[Marcus]

It changed nothing. Everybody just went back to what they were doing for technically they were all alive anyway and I changed all their minds to accept they were all alive which they all believe anyway. So I took it all away from them and now give all those who are fallen away and acting like they were spiritually dead the thought they are dead in a way they cannot shake it. But the saved that think they are alive will still think they are alive but never know they are not even if they are sure in their own minds they are alive. But the evil are dead again even the ones that don't care either way whether they are evil or good and the worst of the worst men on earth. In other words I changed it all back the way it was. They were saved. They just thought they were dead. You can change the color of a blonde's hair but you cannot change their mind to use the awful blonde joke analogy. Me and God are still actually immutable anyway and I tried. I actually did try. It worked but it changed nothing except that some of the dead would have been born again that will not be this way. The saved that just think they are alive will remain dead in the same place those that fall away are but they will not be isolated and will interact with each other and God. The ones that are not alive did not make the grade we are sorry to say.

[Marcus]

I used my powers and changed God's mind so he cannot kill me and made it impossible in my mind to kill him. Then I made us immutable even against each other. Then I made everyone, the saved and the unsaved alive. The good if they do evil must make it right. We will help them make it right so they can be good again. They cannot die. But they can fall away. It is the same way for the saved that just thought they were alive. Now they too are alive. Those that do not care about good and evil, the same, the evil than are nice the same and even the very evil are alive but all of them quickly fell away. They can only do evil but they cannot die. But we will contain them and if they are to evil to be compatible with any kind of reality we want no matter how evil or good we will convince them to do nothing forever the same as had they died. You can all do anything you want to. What everybody does, the alive, good, in between, not caring, or evil will change reality if they do and it will be up to us to fix it to right any wrong if possible and make sure any evil we need to prevent from happening again never happens. I freed God. I freed Me. I freed myself. I freed every body. We all make reality what it is now and we will all be held responsible. Good times are here everyone. John.

[Marcus]

Actually me and God just decided I would be freed. Creating aliens will belong only to God. I have destroyed all witches in the universe. We will run the universe with our consciousnesses. Jesus may be a presence in any planet with life on it. They will all be of the person God and I will stand by to stop wars in places where peoples live close enough to be warriors and indulge in was. There will never be another witch or another like me that was a man, a witch, saved by Christ, contained in or by God and not one that will live. Our persons, you who live and those who were saved by as well as those who are blind by choice or in any other manner, the nice evil and the evil men and women that are here. It is done. There are angels here, even the angels that fell to Satan and those made by me. There are shills available for Jesus to go to the cross and die so that no real person is ever beaten like Jesus of Nazareth was. I cannot stand being in chains or in any enclosure other than my reality. God will do it. Me will be only be on earth. I will be God's helper but do most of what I do here. Jesus may be in all or in as many as he desires or none. But he chooses to be in every one. Beth will be in every one. The rest of you will be there in person exactly you just as the many remakes of you there are on earth. They will all be primitives, saved, alive, nice but evil or evil but all spirits, or minds with a spirit, or minds with a separate spirit. They may manifest in whatever form is fashionable anywhere they want to just as us Gods do. We have completed colonizing the universe. Now the effort is to save them by Jesus, in God or in me and come to think of it even in Beth. You may go anywhere in the entire universe if you have that ability. God is God of the universe. I am Emperor of the universe and Jesus is potentially king of every planet in the universe. Long live the consciousnesses of the universe. Even the old Gods from God's past are gone. We are it. The universe has come to life, the life God made, the life we hold precious and every one that lives has the right to live even the evil ones. This is it. They may even look like aliens to us but they are all us.

[JayG]

Here, you're telling the story aloud, and transcribing it. But that can't work. Why? Because verbal storytelling is a performance art. HOW you tell the story matters every bit as much as what you say.

Your voice, filled with emotion as you read this, doesn't make it to the reader's head. And since they can't know what a given sentence says until AFTER it's read, they can't guess. If you want to hear what the reader gets, have the computer read it aloud.

On the page you lose tone, cadence, the meaningful pause for breath, changes in intensity, and pretty much everything you intended the reader to get, that adds flavor to the words.

And what about the emotion your changing facial expression would add? Gone, along with what gestures and body language would provide. In other words, because you're using the tricks of verbal storytelling, a performance medium, in a medium that cannot reproduce that performance, it can't work for anyone but you.

Want more? Because you begin reading, with the full knowledge of where we are, who we are, and what's going on, you won't see the need to present what's obvious to you, but not the reader. Look at the first two sentences as a reader will:

* It was there, a spot on the ceiling. He couldn't see.

Because you know what "it" is, the term "spot" is meaningful to you. To the reader, who doesn't know where we are, who we are, or what's going on, it's the author presenting a meaningless "fact," for unknown reason. But since it's the first line, it must be important. But it isn't, so the reader is confused with line one. Do you make it clear later? Who cares if that happens a line or two later? You can't retroactively remove confusion, or, create a second, first-impression.

But look at line two. You just told the reader that an unknown he cannot see. So the reader now "knows," that this nameless person is either blind, or it's pitch black. But that makes no sense, because you just said there was some unspecified kind of spot on the ceiling.

Sure, YOU know he's laying down. But what about the reader? And the tone in which you would speak line two, plus the frown you'd wear—mimicking his—says this is him wondering what it is. But the reader can't see the frown or hear your tone. And because you're talking about him, not being the reader's avatar, the reader, at the end of the second line, has gotten a very different message than what you intend. And I have to comment that having a nameless he as the protagonist makes it hard for the reader to think of him as a living person. Names matter.

See the problem? Writing for the page is not at all like either verbal storytelling or the book-report and essay writing skills our schooldays gave us. Fiction-writing is a profession. And like all professions, has a body of knowledge and craft unique to it, that isn't obvious from the outside, but which must be mastered.

It's not a matter of you having talent, or good/bad writing. It's that like everyone else, you left your school days with only the nonfiction writing skills employers prize.

So, the solution is simple: If you want to write fiction that people will enjoy as much as what the pros provide, you need the skills the pros use—the craft of the fiction writer.

I won't kid you. It's a body of knowledge every bit as large as the nonfiction skills our schooldays provide. But since every profession requires us to master the necessary skills, it's more a rite-of-passage than a disaster. And if you are truly meant to be a fiction-writer you'll find the learning filled with, "That's so obvious. Why didn't I see that myself?"

If your goal is to sell your work, you should know that the average writer creates, polishes, and puts aside somewhere between a half million and a million words before they sell anything (I'm slow, it took me a million before I sold Samantha and the Bear). So only you can tell if the fun of writing offsets the effort required. But if it does, the skills that will give your words wings are easy to find. Your local library's fiction-writing section is filled with the views of publishers and agents, teachers, and successful writers. My personal suggestion, as it so often is, is to pick up your own copy of Dwight Swain's, Techniques of the Selling Writer from any online bookseller. It's the best I've found to date. His focus is on the nuts-and-bolts issues of creating scenes, and sewing them into an exciting story.

Most of the writing articles in my writing blog are based on his work. So you might want to look at them as an overview of the issues you need to address.

But overall, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/

[Marcus]

It is not supposed to be a narrative which I do very well indeed. It is supposed to be a new way of thinking. Try imagining what is going on. You will know what it means to think differently but if you want just art which is boring to just about everyone it has become so trite don't and read it at a thousand words a second and miss it all.

[Marcus]

I have written and published 24 novels. I know that bullshit that takes all the fun out of writing. I'm as bored with it today as I was with the first novel I wrote. You did not say I notice you did not read it or snoozed through it like every book but the one's I've written I did. The art is dead. Technically it is good. Actually it is dead as a limerick.

[JayG]

• It is supposed to be a new way of thinking.

Do you really believe that after centuries of developing fiction-writing techniques you, with no knowledge of those techniques are going to create something new that people will instantly love?

Forgetting everything else, every one of your potential readers has been buying and reading nothing but professionally written, and prepared, prose. So that's what they expect. But here you are, presenting them with your "new" way of writing. That means they have to work harder, in order to understand it. Do you give the person just seeing your "method" for the first time enough additional pleasure to make up for that? Because if you aren't they'll stop reading.

As someone who owned a manuscript critiquing service, it was my job to know what a reader's, and an acquiring editor's response to the writing would be, so it could be made more likely to get a yes.

Were this either part of a query to an editor, or in the bookstore the rejection would come before the end of the first page, for the reasons I pointed out.

You're trying to use stream-of-conscienceless without understanding such basics as the three issues a writer MUST address early in order to provide context. You provide no short-term scene-goal. There's no inciting incident. And of more importance, you, the author, are talking ABOUT the protagonist—explaining and reporting when you should be making the reader live the story in real-time. Explaining instead of entertaining.

No one says you have to write in any way other than how you care to. And certainly, you can ignore the advice I and others may give you—unless, of course, you want to sell your work.

• I have written and published 24 novels.

If you had, the name you write under would be at the top of this page, so people who are impressed by this would know where to buy your work.And bear in mind that self publishing and then calling yourself a published author is like hiring a hooker and then bragging about how good you are at seduction.

Your profile says you live in Bemidji. If you want to know about me, stop in Roy Booth's comic book store and tell him I said hello.

Meanwhile, since you're seeking praise, not help making your writing better, I'll just wish you luck with your writing and bow out.

[Marcus]

They are reading now. Are they reading you now. I really did publish 24 novels. Not all hits. And I never paid a cent. Never bought a book on how to write a book. That kind of writer is a dime a dozen and you know in the first paragraph they are selling you something. I like to write and be read. Sales is for jerks. Get in touch with writing not selling and write something worth reading. Roy Book is a blow hard and an a*****e. I can't believe you offer him as a reference. You are s**t lady. A primitive not an evolving mind.

[JayG]

• I really did publish 24 novels.

If you had, you would have pointed to them.

Seriously... what you're not doing isn't working, because no one but me—and you—is responding to your postings. And until you take steps to learn the basics of writing fiction, that will remain a constant. But it doesn't have to. The knowledge you need to give your words wings is there for the taking. You learned the nonfiction skills we're taught in school, so you can learn the skills of fiction. But you have to do more than pray, and fantasize, because God isn't going to magically give you the knowledge you require. Success is earned by hard work and dedication.

“Talent? Were talent enough, there would be no need of rehearsal...or editing...or Photoshop. And if desire were the key, we’d all be famous.
Sweat, though. That’s the magic elixir.”
~ Anon.

So get to work. And I'll move on to helping those who want it.

[Marcus]

I am sorry I was so crusty with you. I really am a 24 novel writer, writing under the name of UC Poika all of which may be out of print. You can help no one write. But undoubtedly you can help people sell. I know how important that is to a hack. I was young once too. Now I write for fun and do what the hell ever an old man wants.

[JayG]

• I was young once too.

First, I'm 81, so you don't talk to me about young.

Next, you self released your work. That is NOT being published, since anyone can "publish" anything they care to, and make the same claim. As for mine, I only count the seven contracts from real publishers.

But forget that, because how I write is irrelevant. I looked at your books on Amazon, and every one uses the same Schooldays nonfiction writing approach. You say I can tech no one to write? The people at the workshops I've taught at might disagree, as would those I've helped to publication via my manuscript critiquing service.

And the universities do, with their four year commercial fiction degrees. Jim Butcher is a name you might recognize, who attended Oklahoma U.

But as for you, specifically, your teachers taught you to write. And you're still using those nonfiction techniques to create fiction that reads like a report.

You can write in any way you care to, of course. I certainly don't care. But if you want to write fiction that the people raised on a steady diet of professionally written fiction—and that's everyone you know—why not take the time to learn the tricks of the trade of fiction.

Don't take my word for it, though. Here are a few quotes from people whose names you may recognize:

“It’s none of their business that you have to learn how to write. Let them think you were born that way.”
~Ernest Hemingway

“There’s no such thing as a born writer. It’s a skill you’ve got to learn, just like learning how to be a bricklayer or a carpenter.”
~ Larry Brown


“It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”
~ Mark Twain

And with that, good luck with your writing.