12/8/2011

Hours without Music: 48

Two days ago, my MP3 player disappeared. What’s that you say? How does something just disappear? Excellent question there, Reader. Here’s how my cousin explained it to me.

“The house took it.”

Wait. What are you talking about?

“The house…takes things.”

Yup, there you have it. The house took my MP3 player. Wanna know the fucked up thing? I believe her. You see, this house is not natural.

I’ve experienced shit within these walls which left them stained with some very nasty memories. You might not know this, but houses can talk.

So, anyway, back to the case of the missing MP3 player. Let’s play devil’s advocate and say the house did take my music from me. Why would it do this you ask? Well…I’ve almost finished my book. Something is going to happen once it’s complete and I believe there are forces at play which are hell bent on it staying unfinished.

For you see, music is my therapy. It lets me fight off the voices which are not my own and convert the pain into something meaningful. Without it, I can’t focus and the progress has grinded to a screeching halt. I reject sleep. Whenever I close my eyes I’m shown horrible images, leaving me constantly exhausted.

It was in this frame of mind I drove to my old job in order to have lunch with an old co-worker. I met him outside and saw some people I hadn’t seen in almost a year. Finally, Charles came down and I made him give me a hug. He’s like a father to me and I missed him dearly. He listened as I talked, but was never afraid to call me out on my bullshit and tell me things I didn’t want to hear.

Then I showed him the book and he was entranced. He kept going on and on and perusing the first two pages. I think this is the caliber he’s been wanting to see and it’s a good feeling. On the way back to the office, he tells me this.

“You’re only on act two, Mr. Benjamin.” You’ve almost won your fight with the darkness, but this is where it gets tough. The closer you get to defeating your enemy, the nastier it gets. So, you can expect the worst to be coming soon.

And it’s about to. Today I drove around for hours on some soul crushing errands. The trip was spent listening to the radio and wanting to only hear songs from my MP3 player. But I can’t and people don’t seem to get what a big deal this is to me. I can’t quiet my mind, so I can’t sleep, which mean it’s impossible to actually process anything. Your nerves then become frayed and your emotions are in a constant state of crisis. Music helps me soothe the beast and inspires me to make beauty from darkness. I can’t write without it, is what I’m saying. Also, I haven’t been able to finish the book.

So that’s why, I think the house stole my MP3 player.

Dear your Holiness-Bayside

Earlier this evening I spoke with a demon which is residing in one of my best friends.  I antagonized it, drew it out and confronted it.  He left a few hours ago, but something is still here.  I can feel them in every room and there's a chill in my spine which I can't shake.  I hear scratches, whispers and hisses in all directions.  Jackie was doing her psychic probe thing she's so good at and now they're zeroed in on both of us.  Gonna be a long night.

Allow me to fill you in.

It's been over a year since I've posted anything on this blog, but that's not due to a lack of activity.  I originally started this because I wanted to talk about my experiences and none of my other blogs really seemed fitting.  The amount of things that have occurred in the last year alone are staggering in their numbers and intensity.

So, I wrote an entire book.

It started out differently, with a love story which was destined for failure.  During the fallout of this relationship I experienced several encounters and revelations which caused the narrative to take on a much darker tone.  It became a horror story and every single word written was true.

Thus, I've no reason to dream... was born and it is the darkest thing I've ever written.  This is because there is a demon trapped within its pages.  When I hold it and flip through its contents I can feel a power surging throughout.  I fought an epic battle during the writing process and once I finished I took away one undeniable truth.

Something is coming.

We have to get ready, because if we get caught unprepared then we will not walk away from it once it gets here.  

When we reach the top of the hill, I spread the blanket I'm carrying under my arms across the grass. I hold out my hand, offering her a seat, and don't take mine until after she does. We then hold hands in silence as we gaze out at the spectacle before us. Then, we turn away and look into each others eyes. For a brief moment, we try to convey all the feelings we have which are too complex for words with a single look. Within it is a fire which rivals those starting to close in around us. Then, we connect at the lips for the most passionate kiss of our lives as the world is reduced to ashes.

The earliest memory of my Father.

I'm really young and it always starts while I'm in the middle of a conversation with my Dad he claims never happened. We're riding in his truck and I'm too small to see anything but sky out the windows with the occasional curved lamppost which now look oddly familiar.

"You see, son, the world is going to end it's going to happen soon." He tells me without taking his eye off the road. "You need to be ready for it."

"When is this going to happen?"

"Soon." His voice sounds different than it has before or since. It's gentle, with just a touch of sadness.

"Why?"

"Because everything must end."

"H.." I swallow hard, "How does it..."

"The last time it happened He used water. This time it will be fire." My head is flooded with images which still haunt me today and I feel like I'm going to throw up. "You have to be ready."

This is the last thing I remember.

Visions

The first prophetic dream I can remember having occurred during kindergarten (I believe, it's really hard to get it straight with how many times we moved) and after I heard the Voice for the first time. Mom and Jeff (my later to be step-dad) were separated and we were living in a trailer. I was sleeping when something woke me up. This is when the TV turned on by itself to reveal an old, bald man behind a news desk. His hands were bloody and sprayed gore whenever he moved them. He looked me dead in the eyes and said,

"This has been a long time coming. And now, ladies and gentleman, I give you..."

My bedroom window filled with a brilliant light and when I went to it and looked out I found that the sky was on fire.

"the end of the world." Then the TV shut off by itself and I don't remember anything else, not even waking up.

There's only once I can claim to have had an actual vision. It was after the previous dream and I was riding with mom and Jeff in his truck. They were talking amongst themselves and I sat quietly in the back seat, just like always. There was this brilliant flash and once it dissipated the world around me had changed.

The road we were driving on was cracked and littered with debris, which we drove through unscathed. Outside the passenger window I could see huge, gaping chasms with fire and molten rock spilling out of them. People were screaming and burning alive and when I looked up at the sky it was blood red. I was terrified, but they kept talking in the front seat like they were oblivious to the horrors happening all around us. Then, another flash brought everything back to normal. They didn't even notice how terrified I was in the back.

I've never told the second story before tonight, while the first served as the inspiration for Ch. 10 of Harbinger.