Piotr Grzywacz

 Pit's Note Book - Avalanche  (part 1)

March 20, 2013

Prologue

I write this drawn by love, unhappy love. There is no chance for being together, never, ever. Still love is here and I promised to do everything to make her happy. Then this is not much about me anymore. I met her on social site called “Experience Project”. We spoke to each other for around one year. She is married and with kids and I am disabled. Pretty much this summarized the whole story. Nevertheless, she gave me hope and she gave me strength, she is my inspiration. I can do it, I can make this book happen. That is all that I can salvage out of this.

I am obsessed with death. I think I will die soon. There is nothing what can support this theory. However I have a feeling and so far I am usually always right. I am not afraid, I kind of don’t care. It is so good to be here, but it will happen sooner or later. I hope later, but I have this feeling which runs in my veins. There is not much time left I fear and I want to make it right. Right – just these last few steps.

I have only these two dreams left. Dream about her and our future together, a future which is impossible to realize in any way and dream about a book that I want published. This dumb book… but I wish to leave you with such a memory. I have already 150 pages done and I need to make it 200. It should be finished before Easter 2013 and I want you to have it and keep it. The book is all fantasy, but all that is inside comes from real life. All the characters and fact are real. This all happened, but all together is just my imagination. You will see it and understand it all when you will read it. I am going to post 10 parts here probably each and every weekend. I hope you will read it and like it.

I was thinking about different titles for the book. For some reason I liked Mirabelle. I wanted to name my book Mirabelle. I thought about her and this name came to me. I don’t know why. I don’t know why.

Finally I dedicate this book to her. I can’t even mention her name. However she deserves every letter in it. She is so good and I love her so much.  All this above, it is true and real and is happening right now and all below it is just story. Enjoy the show!

*   *   *

“Right. That should be good, “thought Pit reading the prologue again. “All sounds real, all is true and a little bit dramatic. I like it,” he said to himself.
“How should I name my main character?” he asked.
“Adam, Adam, call him Adam,” he heard.
“Sure, Adam sounds good to me,” he agreed with the voice.

It was early December 2012, Toronto. One week before events which would change his life again. For once more he will realize that his life doesn’t belong to him and he is just a small wheel in the big time machine. He looked at the computer and started to write.

Cold day, Adam was standing naked in the kitchen. He was drinking slowly his morning coffee looking outside through the window. Backyard was completely deserted, trees were standing there ready to lose their meaning. Crows were sitting on the branches, giving the final cry.

“The birds,” came suddenly to Adam’s mind like awakening.
“They are always there – waiting. Always ready.”
“Cold day,” he thought again.
“Rainy and gray, I am not going, nowhere,” he said to himself.
“Not today Ruffus, not today.”

He left the kitchen and went back to the room and started dressing himself. It took some time before he collected all the parts and covered his body with tight shield of forgiveness. For awhile he was walking in circles inside the house until next he stood in the front of the stereo.

“Music,” he said quietly.
“Music it will make it all come alive again.” He pushed the button and his favorite CD became moving fast sending and filling the house with the sound.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

“Fuck it!” he hit space with the shout. He turned away from the speakers.
“I am going out. Yea, I am going out.” He moved quickly to the hallway and threw his coat over his shoulders. The music was still on. He even didn’t shut the door.
“Whatever,” he was mumbling to himself.
“I have nothing to lose.”

Now he was running away from his nest hearing the dying notes in from the abandon castle.

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

“Are you still thinking?” he unexpectedly saw his neighbor Ally passing him, smoking her cheap cigarette. She was moving from left to right, kind of wiggling like boat on the sea.
“Are you still thinking?” she was repeating one by one and cruising towards her little house and sank into another dimension.

“She is completely out of there,” thought Adam.
“Loneliness, looks like it’s killing her slowly. Hm, I hope I don’t end up like that.”

He ran to the bakery and left all the misery behind.
He entered the store.

“Hi. How are you my friend,” Serbian lady behind the counter welcomed him.

“Hi. Как тебя зовут? he asked her again in perfect Russian about her name. Like always each time when he saw her.

“Hehe,” she started.
“You Polish are always so fu – ny. I am not Russian – you know,” she spoke in broken English.

“Yes I know женщина, “Adam replied smiling.
“You are happy. You happy?” he pointed at her.

“What is happy?” She asked. “Canada work, work, work and my whole family in Serbia and my husband and kids here. I can’t go back and I don’t want to be here,” she became irritated.
“Девушка, “he said changing the subject. “You are beautiful and Serbians are the best.” He grabbed his stuff and escaped not even taking his change.

Home was warm and welcoming. He sat by the computer and opened the mail. The letter was there from Barbara. He had not hear from her in the last 2 years. He wasn’t surprised. He knew that it was coming. Stan, Barbara’s husband had just comeback from the war. Army man, tough, cold and ignorant, but she loved him.

Barbara – she was a friend from Europe. From France to be exact. They had been working together on a crew ship as a team smuggling alcohol in the 80s. Once she saved his butt when he had gotten caught with hacker doing coke in Turkey. It could have cost him a lot, but she used Stan and his connections and pulled him out of jail. He always admired her and loved her secretly, but there was no chance for anything more than mails. Stan was too powerful. Besides she didn’t want Adam to get hurt.

Looks like she was alone again.  She was telling him that she had almost died after she finally decided to deliver the child in spite of the danger. She was so strong and independent. It seemed like Stan had left her taking a part of her and leaving her with nothing. Adam understood the message clearly. She wanted him to drop everything and go to Europe… However it could be Stan looking for revenge.

“Yea,” thought Adam. “Crows, lots of complications on the way.”

*    *    *

“Hi Sasha,” he wrote in the chat room, after a long delay sitting in his small apartment located not far from the Hudson River.

“Hi Pit. What is up?” he saw an immediate response.

“All is good. Not much,” he typed again.

“Where are you? I was looking for you all over the world for a couple of days now,” she asked.

“New York,” he replied.

“Why there? Why did you leave Toronto without any warning? Are you writing?” he saw rushing questions.

“No, not really. I have some problems with my computer and I can’t do much. I think that somebody is after me and causing all of this…
I feel safe here. This is the only one place…,” he tried to change subject.

“They are asking! They want to see the next chapters of the book or they will quit on you,” she said decisively.

“I am doing my best. I am telling the truth, but they are after me. I can’t breathe. They chasing me…” he tried to continue his case.

“I want to see you now!” she hit him in the head.

“How?” he wrote after awhile.

“You know how, camera!!! Don’t play stupid,” she pushed him hard.

“I am naked,” he wrote slowly.

“And?” she was relentless.

“I have to shave and…” he tried again.

“I know every inch of your body and every pair of your dirty socks. I washed them for you many times. Don’t play with me. I know you better than you think. Did you see birds again? I want to see you now!!!” she demanded.

“OK. OK. Just a second,” he went to his folder, copied last evenings writing and pasted in the window. He waited for a few minutes, thinking.

“Pit!” he saw in the chat room and pressed the send button.

Adam was standing in his white bathrobe on the balcony of the Moulin Rouge hotel and he was searching the landscape. Early morning in Lyon with soft touches of wind and muggy rays of sunlight was quite amusing.

He started carving in his mind:

Far away. Far away from my heart there is the music which feeds me well. You are so distant and I will never reach you again. I wouldn’t bear my loneliness anymore…I would… Still you keep coming as flash of the soul. And I want to hear this melody… Just once more.

Mirabelle came quietly. He could feel her smell. Radiation of her feminine side. Her free will, desire of unknown, craving for completion. She placed her cheek on his wide open and strong back and moved closer. Her whole body was hidden now in his. He could feel the pulse of her every vein and he admired her shapely beauty. Her every slight move tasted like forgotten nectar and was pleasurable. They breathed gently as one and sank in peace.

“Do you still go with the hookers?” she brought him to the surface.

“Hm…I slept very well. Thank you for inviting me. It was really kind of you. Did you choose this room?”  Adam started delicately shake inside.

She took cigarettes out her pocket and placed one in his mouth.

“I quit,” he said.

She took the lighter and touched him with the flame, next she threw the lighter over the balustrade.

“You hate them,” said Adam.

”I love the way how you try to hide your weaknesses,” she said. You are so visible and easy to read when you do that.”

He took a puff and opened all the windows and doors.

“I like the view here. It feels like the sea. You know how much…” he started.

“Why do you never touched me?” she asked.

“I am not sure if you really want that.” he answered and took a deep breath. “ You love her. Why did you ask Barbara to write to me?”

“I was afraid that you will say that you can’t come,” she answered and moved her head pushing top of it into his back and separating them to within the distance of ice cube.

“How is Philippe?” continued Adam. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“He looks almost like you but for sure he is Stan son,” she said and took cigarette out of his mouth and threw it away.

“Stan looks good. Your brother is very strong, just war changed him…”– said Adam as tried to escape to the room. She moved closer again and caught his bathrobe on both sides pulling him towards her.

“Stan will never change,” she said rubbing her head over his back. “Do you still write a lot?”

“No, not much lately, not at all,” Adam become a bit nervous.

I don’t believe you,” she said. “Whenever you lie you sound agitated and artificial. I want to hear it now. I want to see your last page. Your last hour of thought.”

She reached into her pocket again and pulled out another cigarette. She placed it between her lips and inhaled dry a few times. Then with the wet marks on it she slid  it into his mouth.

“I want the last page,” she said again and surrounded him with her arms.

He took cigarette out of his mouth and threw it away. Then he touched his lips and spread wet spots over them. And he started reading out of his mind.

When I look for more… river faster runs… it takes all away. Hands of my desire are empty but they long for home. Nothing – is quiet enough…I will go and make sense out of it…to learn that I lost another chance. Far away. Far away from my heart there is the music.

*   *   *

The news was in Pit’s box:
By Pete Willi, Miguel Lona and Tracy Conon, WBC News

17 December 2012 .Updated at 8:25 p.m. ET: A kindergarten teacher’s son, clad in black and carrying two 9mm pistols, rampaged through a New City Wansson elementary school Monday, killing 8 small children and four adults, a tragedy President Tarent Soren said had broken the hearts of America.

The gunman, identified as Adam Rupert, 20, was found dead at the scene of the slaughter.

According to the senior Police official Adam has a history of mental illness. Yet the motive for the mass killing – the nation’s second-worst school shooting — was a mystery.

Pit looked at the message. He found scripted links to the news and read them carefully a few times. He ran it through his data base. All the numbers and names and sequences of events were matching 100%. He did as well probability of coincidence and looked into all the chapters. There was no mistake, he ran all the numbers 3 times and the answer was always the same. He looked into highlighted in red letters and read: based on provided data – story of the writer and occurred events in real time can’t be considered as coincidence. Match in probability viewing 98%, number 8 out of equation.

He sat deep back in his chair and placed both hands on his head. Next he leaned back and hung in the space with his legs crossed on the chair. He was sure that the Ruffus was back on track. He knew it already a few days ago. He knew from the moment when he saw crows. He just wanted to have science behind on his inside.

“It is obvious,” he said. “I couldn’t do much – Section Gama again.”

Pit was working for the agency even before he was born. It was a long story which started in 1887. His great-grandfather moved at that time to United States from the German territory. He settled in New Bridge Wansson and opened a soap factory there. His great-grandfather was a brilliant man and entrepreneur. He was scientist as well and obsessed with new discovery. He was a part of a secret society called Zeleusis.

Members of Zeleusis believed in creating an enlightened world where new discovery would make life happy and prosperous for all. They believed that they are on the verge of harvesting gold from sand rock through process of crystallization.  They were as well advanced in research of atomic infusion and making a new kind of metal lighter than air.

Changing the structure of atom and enhancing it to constant production of fumaric gas was their interest. This way new metal would be lighter than air. Chronit – the new metal was just like flying bubble. It was like a balloon which endlessly produces energy within based on difference of polarizing fields between atoms of mother and father. Energy would naturally flow from higher point to the lower and back in a constant circle. During the process of movement fumaric gas would be created which would empower the metal to fly in the air. Excess of fumaric gas would be absorbed next to the atoms and released when necessary.

Great-grandfather believed in the creation of line cosmetics which would make the consumer in a constant desire of having them. He worked with colors, shapes and the most important – smells. Unfortunately his research brought him to the attention of a global organization called Section Gama.

Interest of SG was to be able to control the minds of others. They develop many techniques to control people’s minds from the distance. It was a spiritual organization but their goals were totally external. Control the global world by any means and ways possible that was their primary desire. SG decided to completely takes over great-grandfather’s research. The game started at that time.

Pit was born into Christian family on the 17 of February 1979 but his future was planed long before. His activity and knowledge was supposed to balance worldly desire of SG. He was never contacted by anybody and he was never confirmed as an agent. Nevertheless he worked and sent messages and he knew the impact of that.

He followed six sources. American, British, Australian, Chinese, Indian, Russian and Saudi Arabian. However family was always important and protected by him the most.

Pit moved back to the computer. He knew that he was followed and he knew that Section Gama want to contact him.

“They decided to use me as a tube for their propaganda,” he thought for a while. “They wish to start conversation with me and use it to their own advantage in their dirty game,” he was sure about that completely. “They want to talk. No doubts.”

He went back on the computer and visited one of the sites. Express Yourself was one of the international sites.  He checked all the messages there. Next he went to the profile of one of his new friends. It was a woman which had once sent him a message that she was looking for peace, equality and justice in the world. He put one of her top group named – If you will block me I will block you – into translation into 20 languages looking for its meaning in their own culture. The answer was: Subject will retaliate and use all means at their disposal when threaten.

He checked her activity. She or he was building a network of supporters. It seemed to be natural to connect with people of the same interest like groups, questions and answers but this was going further. All members of her circle had too many similarities. The most intriguing fact was that they appeared on the site and were leaving at the same time. However the similarities were too obvious. The one who would check on them for sure would know that they  were a net and that they communicating. Simply it was too simple.

He concluded that somebody else was setting the stage. Two days before the shooting in New City she or he asked a question plying for the name for the child which she or he claimed they were adopting. The parents of the child were killed in a bomb blast. On the day of the killings she asked question – which is your biggest sin?

“Yea,” said Pit to himself. “It looks innocent.” But during rampage day all of them came on the site when the drama started and left when it was over.

“Yes. They want to communicate. They want to let us know what they will do. Smart,” he thought again.

No matter what, composition of all information ran deeper. He or she acted but all the acts itself had much more of meaning.

He knew at this point that somebody is watching him. He released true information about himself, his life and family in different places on the net and waited if something will show up which will look like his story.  Now he knew that he got the answer.

Events in reality looked too perfect. Shooting was appearing like a total evil act but he did not believe in God and evil which can come with it and stuff like that. That is why he was sure that it was a set up. It was too perfect and nobody could be found responsible. However it was happening always during Christian holidays. Like somebody wanted to let them down or punish them during their happiest time. Because it was so perfect it carried one mistake. The way that it was done and perfectness of it pointed directly into the one nest.

“There is something going on out there and they don’t like it,” he whispered. “I will need to put them on the move.”

He attached his analyze to the news message and send to the source. It sounded like that: Borys is on the vacation. New opportunities in business section. Beta is the way to go.

He sent as well an add to local newspaper in Russia to cover up his activities: Connect with the friends. If you want learn more. Call Borys.

*  *  *

A – draw on the sand. Forgive, forgive, forgive. Let all go and don’t get caught up in a hopeless struggle. Now mix the sand, there is no more meaning here.

Ahnashte – the word shape on the sand in the meaning of secret compassion. May compassion, may compassion wash all the obscurations. Let purify all what can separate you from others. Now mix the sand there is no more meaning here.

The circle. The triangle. The infinity. The symbols paint on the sand in request of protection. Now mix the sand and there is no longer any meaning.

“Pit”

(Silence)

“Pit wake up. You have to write.”

(Silence)

“It is me. Mirabelle,” He felt a change in the of energy field around his ear, lips and nose.

“Pit, do you remember? Once you asked me what turns me on the most. I told you that I share that only with my lover. You said that you wanted to know that in case if I get mad at you. I will tell – I agreed – if you if will tell me your biggest secret, something that nobody knows. My ears… Do you remember? Only you know that. When you blow air in them I am all wet. I know that Philippe is your son. It is me. You have to write, wake up.”

He rose his head from the desk where he was sitting, looked at the computer and started to follow the lines which he had done before falling asleep.

Sunday morning the 23rd of December 2012, Toronto. Back home. Big obstructions in the energy field. Terrible. So much pain out there. So much suffering. The walls are crying. Sadness and despair.  After contacting source and posting ad all the rats escaped. There is no sign of any activities on the net. Seems like it should be a peaceful time for a while…

Suddenly he felt a stabbing pain in his head. He became dizzy. What is it? He ran to the washroom and started splashing his head with cold water. He looked at the mirror. Old. He looked old. His face was wrinkled and disfigured. He looked tired, lost and ugly.

“Ruffus,” he whispered. “They are here. They found me. Hm… OK. Old is not that bad. I have to focus now and don’t make any mistakes.”

He knew what kind of shit he was in now but, he was sure that killing him will not benefit them at all. They were hungry and they came to make him scared, afraid and angry. They came to torture him and feed on his weaknesses.

He opened the tap and started pouring water into the bath. Blood filled in the space and began to over flow onto the floor. He dived into the sticky liquid and laid down his head over the edge.

“Ohhhh,” he breathed peacefully. It was very cold and hot from second to second. He felt chills traveling all over his body.  He shivered. Energy was leaving him endlessly. Pain was spreading all over his body, pulsating with madness. He felt like somebody was putting long needles in different parts of his body.

“Love it,” he said.

Now flash changed his perception.

He saw himself standing by the sink and brushing his teeth.  Now he heard the noise… Somebody was in the house, walking through his things, checking his computer, deleting his files. He was still brushing quietly.

“Auchi !” he felt sharp pain in his mouth. His tooth broke. He removed a big chunk of it from his mouth. He looked in the mirror at the big hole there. He touched it with his heart finger, the other teeth were shaky too. He began removing them from his gums nervously… but he stopped. He started singing the song in his mind.

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on

He regained consciousness in front of his laptop staring at the screen. Cursor was flashing on the last finished word.

“It is me. Mirabelle,” he read it. He experienced her presence behind him now. She put her hands around his neck and started walking dawn towards his crotch. Next she laid her head over his shoulder. He could smell her.

“Lavender, “she said. “Your favorite. I know what you want. What you always dreamt about. Fuck me.” He felt her tongue entering his ear.

“Fake,” he thought. Rapidly he realized that Ruffus found out about Mirabelle. Anger filled his heart. Darkness became thick and tangible.

“Noooo!!! “ he shouted and hit with full power the desk with his fist, imaging Oracle head there. His heart stopped. Echo comeback with magnifying force and shredded him in pieces, his energy dropped to zero. He froze. He felt like he would be inside the chamber full of cement which unexpectedly hardened.

“Yyyyyyaaaaa,” left his mouth. Now he reminded himself words of his teacher:

One second of your anger kills merit of a few life times. Your anger and possible violence which comes with it is the most destructive for you. When anger will win with you, you need to generate merit to rise up. Anger separates you from the grid and you would not survive that. It is all in your mind. If you hate – you hate yourself.

“Thank you, Ruffus. Enjoy. I love you,” his mind whispered and he regained the power. He became awaken in a front of his computer. Cursor was flashing in the middle of the screen. There were not any words written. He immediately started to type the message.

Hi Mira. How are you? I can’t write. I am having technical difficulties. Are you there?

He sent it over and within 5 min he received a reply.

Yes, I love you. Never be afraid, I am always here. You again made yourself up. Now you want to follow the pattern which made you feel good. You want more of the same, but you hate to repeat yourself… and you are stuck. You want the same and you don’t want the same. Write down what they told you and next think how much truth is in it. Decide who you really are.

Mirabelle

He wrote it down:

I am passionate, intelligent, sexy, smart, magical, cute, unique, amazing, beautiful, talented, the best writer, the second Shakespeare, great, very good, deep, spiritual, great body and smile and eyes these eyes.

“Hm…Who am I?”  he started to think.

I am writer and my story is simple. I don’t need to prove anything. I need to just write it down as it is.

Adam received an offer to work in the porn industry. Stan and his wife Barbara had a big production company doing classy, soft porn. Definitely the offer was influenced by Mirabelle, sister of Stan. Mirabelle was an interior designer. She was preparing the set for each movie shoot. Finally in the end Stan didn’t leave Barbara. There were too many business connections and the money was too good to afford for any changes. Everything remained the same in spite of hard feelings between family members. Only new thing would be Adam working with them as a producer and writer. Mirabelle wanted to keep Adam close by in France and enjoy his presence. Adam’s heart was torn between love to Barbara, which he adored for her inner strength and his desire for Mirabelle who knew him perfectly. Both women were beautiful outside and inside, but totally different. What made things even more complicated was the fact that Barbara and Mirabelle were in deep love through the years.

Adam decided to decline the offer as porn wasn’t totally his style. He felt a bit wounded when Stan had given him a contract with a job proposal. He told Stan that he would think about it. Mirabelle invited him for a dinner in her ranch not far from Denver. He did not want to disappoint her…but he knew that he will have to use his secret weapon and blow into her ear. He was not sure why she chose to meet him in USA when the whole porn industry was placed in France. He smelled some troubles but he trusted her.

“How was your trip,” she asked him kissing his cheek and taking his coat and book which he carried in his hand. Adam was wearing plain pair of jeans, white t-shirt, dark blue sport jacket and moccasins.

“As always with no lagging. You didn’t change a bit over the years,” she added smiling and looked deeply into his eyes. She was in a black short dress, black stockings and classy black heels. No bra, no underwear. No decorations, no makeup, her blond hair was laying on her exposed shoulders in sort of chaos.

“Why don’t you want work with me?” she asked sadly and dropped her beautiful blue eyes on the book. She was so disappointed and crushed by the news that silence became like guilt. She opened the book and read the first page:

Federico Garcia Lorca poems in the time of death.

There was a note as well made by Adam:

Suchness has your taste
I wish I would die in your arms
I can’t escape
Body will always win
I am slave of my desire
I can’t make this happen
Suchness has to remain unclaimed

“Very beautiful, “she said. “There is no food and I am not sure about your plains. I will call a taxi. I am sure you can manage.”
“OK.”  said Adam. “O yea…and there is one more…very important thing…which I am sure you would like to know… but it is secret.”

“Secret? What is it?” she asked awaken in interest.

He moved slowly and respectfully his hand in gesture – come closer. She opened her right shoulder removing her hair with her left hand reaching behind her head. She came closer to him totally open, like the gates of heaven, intrigued like child. Her ear was close to his lips now. He exhaled a soft and gentle breeze as kind and soft as possible. She dropped the book and her arms landed quickly on his shoulders surrounding his neck, her left leg swing around his. She was biting his lips now fiercely and in a second she was hitting his chest with her fists saying:

Why? Why?Why?

“I can’t, “he said enjoying greatly the pain of her bite. Her full lips tasted like well ripened wild strawberries. He felt her erected nipples pressed into his chest and the pulsating warmth of her secret garden on his thigh. He felt drunk, exposed. Blood was rushing in every part of his body. She was just eating him and he could not resist. She caught his bottom lips between her teeth with such a passion that he almost faint it in pleasure. She kept it there now strongly looking like a wild hungry gypsy and she focused her eyes on his. He was blinded. He saw long tunnel with two sparking white lights in the end inviting him for the feast. He was gone and his body was exploding with energy and power. Keeping his lip in clamp of her lips she started opening his belt and undoing his pants. She freed him quickly, grab it in her hand and squeezed tightly pulling down on it. Now she took him down on the floor with no loosing for a second of her grip on his lips. She spread her legs and let him lay on her. Now she was looking impatiently for opening in her pussy sliding his cock over her soaked chamber. Finally she found it and pushed him in. She grabbed his butt and pressed it with tremendous power as deep as she could.

“Ohhoo God, “she moaned and released his lip starting moving quickly over his cock… in and out of her pussy…. like crazy. This was in total madness. She was scratching his butt and squeezing it like she would like to remove his entire flesh from his bones…moving faster and faster and harder and harder…pouring her kisses and bites over his face. He was paralyzed. He become like one harden piece of metal with his highly erected cock which she was fucking now with no mercy. He came quickly moaning loudly like an animal when she was screaming during her climax writhing like a snake.

“No! No! No!”

She pushed him again… after that… deeply…as deep as she could and hugged him tightly with her legs and arms moving her butt to the left and right saying.

I love you. Fuck. I love you so much.

*  *  *

It was early evening, winter. The sun was dying slowly. Outside was white, crispy and cold. Sun and moon were bouncing over snow covered hills and making them sparkly. Inside was warm, quiet and cozy, such was the evening.

Adam and Mirabelle were sitting in the dining room and waiting for their meal. Nothing mattered for now. They felt comfortable with themselves, satisfy being in the moment. There was no run ups, no confusion, no mistakes.  They felt like being together and just being in the presence of each other was enriching. There was nothing that had to be done and nothing to go for. They surfed into the time bubble and became invisible, yet fully present. They still felt the ecstasy of making love together. Happiness. Peace. Relief. Completion. Joy. This was such an electrifying experience like clash of the titans. It was amazing, so amazing to break through and reach for something that they had both tried to avoid for so long.

She was so fulfilled that she could carry his semen in her. She felt like a full woman now, like mother earth or extremely valuable like she had positively past the most important life exam, she mattered and she was precious. She was so in love with her pussy like she respected her totally and admired what she has done. When his sperm hit her inner walls she went crazy. It was like earth would break under her and she lost touch with reality, disappeared into the thick air of pleasure. She was sitting now in front of him smiling. She could not believe what happened.

He could not escape from visions of her face when she was cumming violently. She looked at him just before she peaked in her orgasm and her eyes were filled with love and abundance. She had such a desperately request in her eyes that he almost froze for a moment. She lifted her legs and caught them by her knees, like she would to increase her fertility, that way he could see her legs hidden in the stockings – especially her thighs and the edge where the stockings were touching her naked body. This hit him like a lightning and when her pussy tightened in the first second of her climax, he fired out like machine gun. She milked him quickly with every squeeze of her pussy muscles and still was pumping him more. It was extremely painful and pleasurable at the same time. She was squeezing him hard for a long time. He still felt that painfully over his cock tip and enjoyed it greatly.

“I love your cock,” she said quietly.
“Yes. It was amazing,” he replied. “I lost control.”
“Me too, “she admitted. “Sorry for swearing.”
“That’s OK. I swear a lot too,” he comforted her.
“I never heard that, “she said.
“I swear a lot when I am upset but just in my mind,” he answered her. “Why did you want to see me in the US?”

“Here is more like home to me,“ she said. “I was born here. I have my horses here, my land and quiet, innocent life. France is more of the business and craziness. I am not a big fan of porn but this is my work and money…Where do you feel like home?”

“I am homeless,“ he said. “I can’t find my place. I feel everywhere like I would sit on paper boxes ready to pack and move out. I am constantly on the go. All the time I am trying to catch something or escape from something. I have no place to call home. When I can write the rest is not important. I am in the process. I don’t bother but…I can’t write all the time.

I have home in you,” he added after awhile.

“What is your new book about?” she asked.

“I would like to write something about submissive and dominant love but I don’t quite understand how it works,” he said. “Are you submissive?”

“I don’t think that it is so important who you are. What is important is if you really love or not. You can be totally submissive only if you are in love. If you show dominance and you don’t love it can be easily treated as discrimination. Besides, I think that all these rules are more of an artificial game and life is spontaneous. Would you like to be submissive?”

“Sure. But how?” asked Adam.
“I would like to dance,” she said and left the table. She put the music on and next came slowly towards his chair and pulled him out of it.

“Hold me, strong. I want to feel your power,” she said and she laid her cheek on his chest and they started to dance…close…and their bodies were in touch…and their scents mixed.

It’s four in the morning, the end of december
I’m writing you now just to see if you’re better
New york is cold, but I like where I’m living
There’s music on clinton street all through the evening.

I hear that you’re building your little house deep in the desert
You’re living for nothing now, I hope you’re keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

*  *  *

Bang ! Pit heard the sound of the closing mail box. The mail came as usual on this rainy mid February day 2013 in Toronto. He was back in his house after a long escaping trip that took him all over the world trying to lose track of himself. Again he lost everything, only the ability to write remained. All his bank accounts were blocked and all credit cards canceled. He lost ownership of his house in Toronto which he did not understand why at all, however he had to move within one week. All his on line friends left him for some silly reasons and some changed their profiles so that he could not recognize them anymore.

“Ruffus and anger,” he thought. “After all these years I am still weak and venerable. That is OK I will pay for everything as always.” Everything that happened was very damaging, but it wasn’t the first time so he had gotten use to it.

“It is good to keep mind of the beggar all the time then you have nothing to lose,” he reminded himself.

The most difficult and hard to carry were thoughts and feelings about Mirabelle. He could not help much. He opened gates of his heart once truly, sincerely and she filed every particle of his space. He was marked forever and he could not and did not want to change anything.

“I am dying without her every second. I miss her so much,” he whispered. “I wish to hit myself to feel another sort of pain and overpower feelings of wanting her. I miss her in every breath.”

Source was contacting him through regular mail. Set of flyers and letters were giving him ideas where to go or what to look for. He went outside to the mail box and pulled all out his daily news. Among letters was a flyer about building materials.

Masonry bricks. The most solid materials in the world through the centuries. Solid and safe houses for everybody. Meet your local dealers in person to discuss details. Avalanche of all kind of offers.

There was a letter there as well inviting him to visit a writer’s pub a few streets away from his house in the coffee shop Mocca. He ignored all information as usual.

Only he knew that his actions saved the game. However nothing can be proof or denial in the world of spirit.

He decided to take a long shower and rested his mind and didn’t think. Long streams of warm water were walking over his body. Smell of lavender herbs burned in an offering dish filed the air. He entered his subconscious and read all the messages again.

He had a photographic memory. It was enough for him to see something once. He could bring any picture back in his mind in a form of vision and see all in slow motion or close up any detail in it, or view it again and again. He could alter as well any picture he wished or change sequence of events in it. He had stuck in his mind pictures from past, present and future.

He saw now his dream from the night before. He was dressing himself… Blue jeans, white snickers, burgundy turtleneck which he gotten from when he become a monk, long rain winter coat and his Siberian Russian hat. He hated the hat because he looked like an idiot in it and loved it because was very warm and comforting.

Next he saw his Chinese friend Bill for whom he had once worked for awhile.

Bill owned a few buildings and stores with Chinese memorabilia in Toronto. His way a doing business was: he kept telling customers that he is broke now and in the process of liquidation all his stores. He had big posters in every window of his store announcing: Liquidation, bankrupt, all must go, 80% off. All worked perfectly. Most of the people believed in his story and was buying his stuff. His success was based on feeling – mixture of compassion and opportunity for a good deal and joy as well that the rich guy was falling on his face and not them who were buying him. He was in liquidation process all the time.

This guy Bill, asked once Pit to move one of his stores from one location to another. Really nice traditional Chinese stuff: wicker baskets, fabrics, all kinds of old dishes and statuettes, chests, swords, classical Chinese furniture. He was laughing about Pit and his beliefs, but he was an old senior citizen that it did not matter.

He was saying, “You are Buddhist and you all the time om mani padme  (Chenrezig mantra of pure compassion) but you not om mani padme in life,” and he laughed singing – “Pit Pit, pity pit and his fancy car”.

So Bill called for Pit and his dodge caravan and offered him a job. They met in one of Bill’s stores with windows covered, all covered with newspapers and posters of liquidation. Main window on inside was plastered with Toronto Star daily newspaper. There were articles there and pictures about visit of Dalai Lama in the city giving Kalachakra improvement. Kalachakra are profound teachings of time and space travel through opening of secret mandalas.

Bill welcomed Pit standing in a front of his store with his thumbs hooked into his belt and pants laughing:

“Hahaha Pit, Pit and his fancy car. Listen the job is very simple. Do you see this room?” he showed Pit the main room in the store. “I have some stuff here,” he added. “You empty this room and I will pay you 40 bucks, cash. How about that? “

“40 bucks,” thought Pit,“ Looks maybe like 4 trips, one hour per trip, 10 dollar per hour – me plus car.”

“OK. No problem,” said Pit. “Let’s do it quick as I have some other jobs pending,” he lied.

“Such a busy man. Such a. Busy. Man,” replied Bill.

Old man was surrounded by a strange group of helpers. There were 5 or 8 men all together who seemed to behave like they were mentally challenged. They talked to themselves all the time and looked like they were not present in the space where Bill and Pit were sitting. However they displayed enormous respect to Bill. You could feel like he almost owned them and they were falling apart in front of him out of kindness and obedience. Bill did not talk much to them or almost nothing at all, but they were coming and telling him about things done or with some questions, like there was some dialog going on behind the scene. They were huge people and very protective of Bill.

All the strangeness of the situation did not bother Pit much. All he wanted was his 40 bucks as soon as possible and move on.

Pit started carrying stuff from one location to another. The traffic was terrible, each load was taking almost 3 hours – load and unload and carry. Plus nobody was helping him much, nobody care at all about him and his task. Pit became very frustrated. Baskets ripped the entire interior of his car and the stench of mustiness in his vehicle during the time when he was carrying each load was killing him.

Stench and mad, mad viscous traffic drained him totally. Plus there were stairs, actually 24 of them leading to the basement in the new location where he had to carry all the loads. After 3 trips and 9 hours in hell he arrived totally exhausted to the store and found out that the main room was packed with even more stuff than before. There were 5 other big rooms behind the main room filled to the end. And Bill…Bill was having tea relaxing a bit after a long day. Pit approached him boiling inside like a volcano.

“I would like to get my 40 dollars,” he asked as polite as he could but it was rough.

“Sure, sure, “said Bill and pulled money from the drawer placing it on the counter top. He had a wide and long tray in front of him filled with sand. He took one of the chop sticks standing in the wooden cup on the side and drew some letters or words in the sand. After that he went over them with his hand and mixed the sand and… PEACE exploded in the space.

Pit left the store feeling kind of he was bump off through all the experience not taking anything with him. He saw the car with its devastated interior and he went mad again but he immediately saw the kindness of Bill’s hand mixing the sand and again peace took all over on even deeper level. As much anger as it was there that much deeper in peace he was driving. Pit worked for Bill for a year and there was no one thing or feeling or anything which Pit would love and cherish and wanted to have it, possessed or hide for himself which Bill and his work ethics would not demolish. All with the same results – PEACE.

*  *  *

Sand purification practice after Ruffus attack worked perfectly.

Letter A, Ahnashte and Symbols caught all the dirt and dust and erase them from the field, purifying all the obscurations.  Pit discovered as well something new about himself…A pattern of static aggressiveness and enjoying echo ripple effects on others. He knew at that point that he needed a long retreat to work with his ugly side.

“I have to embrace the truth that God will never punish you because of my suffering,” Pit understood the root of his obscuration. “God is not about punishment at all, otherwise he will never have sent his son to earth. Jesus died for sins of others to make them free from it. He took all the sins of others and died for them as the most accomplished Bodhisattva. He washed in his blood crime of Adam and Eve. No more first sin, you are back in paradise, you can walk naked again and don’t feel ashamed. What are you waiting for? Your mind is free, no more ground for sin or you don’t understand Christ message.”

He wrote down story about his new discovery and posted on Express Yourself site being sure that this will bring positive results based on his pure intentions.

Static aggressive
Pattern of behavior

I was always responding to all my messages.
Now I decided to change that and this is why.

I discover something very surprising about myself – my static aggressive side. Now I am sure that I was aware about this all the time, but I viewed it and explained it to myself differently. The root of my misunderstanding came from my old school way of thinking. At some point when I experienced a lot of injustice in my life (doesn’t matter who caused it, who was guilty of it, if I was right or wrong, whether I could do something about it or not) I tend to think:

Now I am having all of that but God will punish you for my suffering. You – who caused all of that, you will be punished.

It didn’t matter if you were responsible for my suffering or not, as long as I thought you were.

It developed later into this pattern of thinking in that way.

Establishment and development of pattern:

When I meet somebody new on my path I was offering myself totally. I was displaying my pure and unconditional love most of the time.

Next:
When expectations of the other side arose, I was not sure how to deal with them, thinking that I already offered all that I had. Kind of one meal cooking by me with teasing by the taste and creating cravings of the other for more and not knowing any other recipes besides the one I had just served.

Next:
I felt or I find out disappointment of other side because of not giving more and separation began.

Next:
I felt like other side – because of what happened – wish me bad and would be happy if I would fall down.

Finally:
When I would have a bad day and all the messages sound like confirmation of thinking that the other side is content and happy because now I am down, I was becoming very agitated.

Why and what would I think?

I would think that senders of messages think about me like that – That is great. What a sweet punishment. He can feel now as I felt when he let me down.

Now because all is more like paranoia and can’t be proved and I don’t wish anyone anything wrong as I am just upset because of the way how I think and believe that  I would just bite my fingers and suffer in silence.

My beliefs are based on energy exchange. I believe that If you send me bad energy, I will received it and try to do all to not retaliated when I am down and  be not too happy for sure about the whole thing. It all comes down to the tones of messages of happy people and how happy they are and fantastic on that day when I am in the ditch which makes me wondered and boiled inside. Because I can’t do much, like bite somebody or stuff like that and I don’t want to do it. However I am not happy that others are happy and I am not and because I tend to think that others caused this by sending me bad energy as retaliation for the fact that I had disappointed them -pattern of thoughts about God’s punishment for my suffering can surface. I realized that recently and I think now that it is bad energy in itself. I call that a form of Static Aggression itself and kind of form of retaliation.

Because of all the thinking and events above, it transformed into other complex thoughts and behaviors.

Like I believed that when I had a bad day and I had a reason to think that you caused it. Plus I may have had reason to think that you did cause that I believed that next you would have a bad day after my bad day, exactly the next day.  It goes along with the pattern of God punishing you. Then when I had bad day and I thought that you were the cause of it, and I had reason to think that you had the reason to do such a thing, and you would send me a message that you were doing fantastic and were so happy on this day when I was down I would accept it peacefully.

However what I was doing.
When I would think that you are having a bad day and it is punishment from God because you did something to me the day before (which I believe it is, what it is but at the same moment knowing that it is paranoia) I would send you a message on that day when I am good and when I think that God is punishing you with a bad day because of my suffering. I would send you a message that I am doing amazing and I will ask you how amazing you are today? Which starts the endless pattern of behavior and thoughts which become a total paranoia and waste of time. For that reason and the reason of improving myself as a human being I decided to stop that behavior. I hope thinking will go away too. Please don’t be surprised when I will have a great day but I will not respond to your message trying to stop paranoid behavior out here. I hate that pattern and I want to get rid of it.  For sure I will message you when I will feel safe that I am motivated only and all by good. Thank you for understanding. The good news I have very rarely bad days. So far this year I had maybe like 3 worse days, but It have not had bad a day so far this year.

*  *  *

Echo of Pit’s shout came back to him in a set of strange events. His closest friends reached out to him in the most loving manner and he felt deeply their pure feelings and enjoyed beauty of their minds.

At the same time for a few days he was receiving messages, quite innocent ones about how change is obvious and natural and necessary and that good Buddhist should be strong enough and ready for it and that all is for the better.

It was quite ironic in a time when he lost his cave and his chair was violently thrown onto the street. Exactly at the same time when he was violently attack some lady on Express Yourself site where he was posting his stories was commenting about necessity of unconditional love and being thankful for those who give you a chair. She was of course appealing as anonymous. How any other way could she escape responsibility of her words? She claimed to be exploring Japanese culture and was showing herself with no face from behind wearing Japanese traditional kimono. It was even more ironic because Pit was in total admiration for Japanese tradition believing that it is one of the most powerful ways to achieve enlightenment.

Some time ago he had a firing spiritual conversation with representatives of different Buddhist order about which way is the fastest in achieving self liberation. It happened in Vienna during a multicultural conference. It turned into a conversation about which sword is the sharpest in order to cut through ego clinging.

There is a common believe in Buddhism that in order to reach state free from suffering you have to let it go, all ego clinging in form of attachment. No clinging of ego, equal No attachment. No ego equals No suffering. Result – Enlightenment. Some of the Buddhist methods, practices do that mental spiritual process of cutting all ego, clinging and letting all attachment go away and liberating yourself instantaneously. Therefore metaphor of cutting the ego with the sword or knife and which one of the tools is the sharpest was valid argument. Basically it was coming to stupid conversation which way is the best. He claimed that Japanese swords are the best and he was sure that he won this debate.

However after that whenever he was to about to lose all or just did, he was receiving messages about Japan and deep cut and that all is for the better. First he found that kind of behavior out of Buddhist frame. Second he would never enjoy knowing about another’s lost. That was not what he would appreciate or wish for others because of luck of compassion and empathy in it. It was total of misunderstanding of Buddhist doctrine and he never followed that pattern. He did the same in this situation.

Exactly at that time he led conversation with very kind British senior citizenship on the same site. They talk about nonsense of war and about faith. Pit brought example of Pope which was in his thoughts and dreams for a few days. Two days after these two exchanges he found out that the Pope left his chair. Immediately it brought to his mind prediction about future which his grandma was repeating to him over and over again. The only one prediction which she ever mentioned.

It was Sybille prophecy which stated that it will be white Slavic Pope and next it will be the black Pope who will resign and after that it will be big explosion. After explosion as she said people who will walk on the desert will kiss the marks of other human’s foot on sand if ever they will find one.

“I hope that is just my imagination,” ponder Pit.

He went on Express Yourself to see messages and activities of others. He got 3 new friends.

One of them offered him part time job for The New York Times. It did not sound serious and was very unprofessional so he decided to wait and see what will happen next. It raised some suspicions because it was about New York which he was supposed to protect and some facts like numbers and names sounded too familiar and were part of his story.

Next he checked on some lady who was claiming that she knew his mother and that she met her a few times in Toronto. She was a poet and writer and she was explaining that she is a very close friend of the family. Basically what she was saying that she was in love with him and she has a lot’s of money and if he is interested he can join her anytime he wishes. She was living in the U.S. across Lake Ontario around 4 hours drive from Toronto. It sounded too good.

The last one who awoke his interest was a 26 years old girl. In her profile he found that she has interest in corrupted cops and violence. She loved violence and dirty games. When he asked her how her violent side appeared she said that she read the stories and collected data. They talked for awhile sending messages back and forth. She was constantly coming with information that she has not enough tokens to send any pictures. It was strange because he did not ask for any. Pit understood what she was saying. She was asking about money and she had some information. She advertised in her profile that she is very submissive but she tried dominated conversation and directed him to other sites for more information. He knew that this is a trap. However he accepted her offer and introduced her to secret source where she could send safely any information and gets paid.

She answered, “Wait. In time.”

He checked everything all again. It was no other leads to follow.

“Ruffus where are you?” asked Pit looking in all reports. He packed all his stuff and left the house dressed as he was advised to in a dream. It meant that he recived the message. He knew of a small library next to an abandon Masonic Temple 15 minutes away from his place. He did not know why he is going there but he was sure he has to be there.

On the way to library birds attacked him again.

*   *   *

“Eyyy…Hrrrt….Eyyy…Hrrrt…Eyyy…,“ the whistling and screeching of the birds haunted Pit. He was shifting, terrified in his bed as bloody, merciless creatures attacked him. Hundreds of them were surrounding him, coming from every direction, swarming noisily. They were suddenly falling down biting him. He was bleeding and new wounds were opening on his body. Next he saw a crooked one aiming for his heart… He jumped up from his bed scared, wet and shivering. He placed his hands on his head and squeezed tightly, as strongly as he could, and nested inside himself.

“I need a break….to free myself… what a nightmare. God! I need a break or I am… I gotta go somewhere else… into new skies, new harnesses,” that was said and he released himself from his clamp.

His New York apartment was solid and immersed in oblivion. He did not want to think about loss and unhappiness. Toronto seemed to be distant. He was too broken inside to oppose anything. He gave up on his house, which he loved so much and moved his belongings into storage. For the rest of the money which he kept in jar hidden under the kitchen sink he bought a ticket and arrived to New York the day before. Having one bag of personal items, which he packed randomly, he locked empty Torontonian fireplace which he could not say is his anymore and threw out the keys. It was the beginning of the March 2013. Spring was hanging in the air.

After being convinced that going to the library would gave him some directions about what to do next, he realized that he was totally off topic and his story was just a complete imaginations.

“That is good. That is good.” he was assuring himself. “Good for others no doubts. There is longer any danger contrary to what I thought. Not that great for me.” (as the reality of being almost on the street was very brutal) “I can’t accept the fact that I can’t live in Toronto anymore. I can’t. I can’t!”

He was still lucky that Sash, his editor and publisher, was keep paying for his New York cave. However, it was related with book. He should finish the dumb book for her about Adam and Mirabelle, but he was too confused to develop any ideas.

It was always like that after he’d reached the peak of his potentials. He loved to be on top, but he already felt the pain of the future, because he knew that the only way now was going down. Before, the book looked great. For the moment, everybody hungered, viciously, for more. However now, he had no idea what to write next. Now, he hated everything that he wrote, because he felt obligated to continue his story and he had no feelings, no visions about the next chapter. He felt like in toils.

He started experiencing a void after spending a few days in library and not receiving any clues of what should come next. Once again, he was lonely, abandoned without a mission. He felt like vomit.

“No woman, no love.” he sang in his mind.

Mirabelle was pure perfectness, but he couldn’t be with her. The monotony of this understanding and the continuity of chasing the wind made him feel sick. He could not have her even if he knew that she would drop everything to be with him. If only he could ask…but how could he?  He couldn’t draw her into his mess. It would be too much, too egoistic. He couldn’t offer her the life she currently has and just because he loved her beyond any measurements was not enough to demand anything. Because he loved her unconditionally, he could not do that.

“Quiet. Quietly and safe. I am so shattered. I am so good. I can feel it all. I can feel myself. I am so alive!” He sat on the edge of his bed and started looking for his sleepers in darkness dancing his foot over the floor.

“Hmm,” Pit stopped for a second. “I don’t have slippers. I never had them.” He realized immediately…it was about his stepfather who trained him relentlessly. Wearing slippers all the time at home was one of the issues.

“You have to keep the frame son!” he was shaking him many times squeezing Pit’s arms in his “fatherly iron rim” pushing ideas into lost, childish head. “Otherwise you will fall apart. You have to get that Pit. Discipline. Discipline! Do things in order, disciplined, and keep your mind tuned into it. Right, well organize frame of behavior it will keep your mind intact and calm. The rest is less important. The rest comes and goes and always will leave you wondering and in distress. Outer discipline will make you strong inside and the rest will be just waves. Feelings Pit are not good. Feelings are just disturbing emotions. Don’t rely on them, don’t follow them or they will damage you good and make you even more hungry. They are worse than drugs. Keep the frame boy! …or there will be nobody who can help you.”

Morning was breaking through the night. New York was in peace. He pushed his body out of bed and started walking slowly in circles with no destination.

“What do I do next? I have no more heart for the book. I am so beat up… but still I have something to say. Yea! I can feel it. I have a story to tell.” He heard the music coming from his neighbor’s flat behind the wall. His witty Ukrainian friend Max was up and enjoying himself.

“What is this gay is doing. He never sleep or something? Max shmack with no feelings and rainy face. Max shmack with no attachments and grace. Max shmack with his kindness like a wall that you can slide on. He will never get it. He just lives for his own pleasure.” Pit was fighting with the sound, but it was too familiar. It was too deeply rooted in him and his past…it tasted like home, which was gone forever. He wrapped up his mind around the song that he used to sing as a kid living in Poland.

Jolka Jolka,
Can you recall that summer of dreams
When you used to write: “I’m feeling so sad
Come to me even at once
Do something with me
Don’t leave me alone, here, never.”

Begging for a drop of petrol,
I ran like a wind
(And the engine was on its last legs)
To be in you again,
Laugh aloud and swear
Everything was so easy these days.

Child was sleeping behind the wall,
as watchful as a bird,
Please good God, correct his Dreams!
You told me that your love was never so big,
And the blood was as sweet as your tears.

I was departing from your arms at pale dawn
A day drove me out but at night I came back.
We were allowed to see the eclipse,
It would take ages to notice the next one.

Nuns were strolling through the beach, and the sun setting down
It kept hurtling but couldn’t fall.
Your husband in a big world, collecting every cent
To buy Toyota frightfully splendid.

Your husband worshiped an order and a full glass
Once he had fiancée from dreams,
But she was unfaithful to him in a bus of Arabs,
He was never the same again.

We were living in a big bath and rarely we
have been crawling into the dry shore.
The magic booze was whirling in our cells
Main goal was just a stone’s throw away.

I still can’t imagine how it started in this twisted way
Why it faded, no one knows as well,
I’m surrounded by the others, never wake up alone,
But nothing is so easy these days.

“Mirabelle, Mirabelle that is enough.” said Pit. I am taking over. As his father was saying – for unhappy love the best is new love. “I am moving on. I don’t care anymore. New day. New chapter. Past is gone.” He took laptop to his bed and open new file. He saw a message from her. He was able to see the headline of it. She wrote it

I wish to free the bird
the bird from my hands
Let it fly free
Put your hands undermine…

He did not open it. He let it go and started completely new story.

*  *  *

Rusty curtain of the tabernacle was changing day into night. Marvin rode his horse towards the gates of Shavinwood Castle. It was already late, too late, and no chance to reach Nefert – Hidden Kingdom of Asuras before dawn. His crew was exhausted. There was no need to push even if he was dying with desire to rest at home after all these months of wandering. Sweet arms of Akme were again a distant dream. Hard, insanely hard emotions pressed him down and crushed his chest in an iron grip.  His heart was rising, awakened by memories of the past. It was not longer the feeling of missing her, but it was a pond of silent tears hanging above his head.

Marvin was afraid well, so afraid that he could forget something about her. That merciless time would erase some precious bits of moments spent together. He was worried too that war changed him to the point that she won’t recognize him as her master anymore. He became rough and wild. He mastered the power of the mind to an such extent that he could split a one meter thick tree in half however he lost touch with his gentle winds.

“Houuu! “ Marvin stopped the caravan. “We will rest here!” he announced. “Unsaddle the horses and prepare camp for the night.”

They settled on a small hill with the view of the vast valley, covered with small patches of trees and Narrow River running in the bottom. The hill was cut from his west side by chain of mountains with groups of cave drilled inside.

“My lord,” said Gryf kneeling in the front of Marvin. “We are shaping the camp as you ordered. Guards are spread over the sides, hawks are watching the sky…”
“My lord…” started Gryf again after awhile of silence and bent his head.
“What is the request Marshal?” asked Marvin.
“The troops would like to hear your voice. They are longing for your blessing,” whispered Gryf.

“Warriors…brothers…my family…my body,” Marvin addressed the crowd. Knights were standing in small circles below him, down the hill keeping in hands burning torches, grasping and absorbing the message of their bellowed master.

“Brothers, Brothers, Brothers. Please open your hearts and let join our souls in whispers of wind, sound of river and kindness of earth. Two years ago we left our families in search for mercy to protect our livelihood… Many of us are not coming back today. Their spirits are forever free in the realm of forgiveness. War is never a solution. Violence always brings more violence.

Why? Why then did we sacrifice?”

Marvin left his post and walked down towards the troops. He was circling slowly between them touching from time to time the arm of a random soldier placing his hand around a warrior’s neck and looking deeply into his eyes asking.

“Why?
 Why?
 Why?“

He shed his energy of love and compassion with them feeding them and making them content. Finally he stood in the middle of the field raised his hands up and shouted with all the strength he had finishing his communion.

“WHY!!!”

Enormous ball of love exploded in all directions and lifted all of them. Silence bloomed over the space and brightness started to shine through the atoms. Marvin fell down on his knees, crouched and started weeping, repeating constantly.

“Why?”

Worriers now surrounded him in a big circle lifting their torches and shaking them. A murmur traveled suddenly through the space and a shower of sparks dropped from the sky in return of his blessing.

Irwin, young crew member, emerged from the crowd, fell prostrate three times in front of Marvin and froze on his knees in a front of the Master.

“Our Lord,” started Irvin quietly. “We did that because of love. We love you. We cherish you. We trust you. We rely on your wisdom. We would die for you as many times as we could. You are pure love, care and understanding. You are our past, present and future. You are our hope and final destination. We are your body, mind and spirit. You protect, you us, nourish us, you teach us. You give sense to our existence. You owe us and make us feel safe and secure. You know what is the best and we follow overwhelmed by  your inner power. Our lives have only meaning through our love for you.

Master! We didn’t win but we didn’t lose either. We sustain our hope and faith about the future through your kindness towards us. Those who are gone were proud to offer you their lives as an act of ultimate love to you and gratitude for your selfless being.”

“Ashante,” whispered Irvin.

“Ashante, Ashante, Ashante!” a poignant cry broken from the chests of the warrior’s Army of Light.

*   *   *

Marvin was sitting by the fire covered with plaid, watching the dancing flames. The troops were resting in completion. Camp slept shrouded in the morning mist.

“Akme, my light, my path, my ground, my source, my being.” He drew her picture playing with the flames and brought her to life.

“My Lord,” she said. “I am waiting for you at home. I always do. Actually you never left. You are always here. In my mind and heart. Before I do anything I am always asking you for advice…and I listen and I follow everything you say. I miss you terribly Archer. I do things and I miss you in everything I do by everything that I do. My longing is like a yawning abyss… I planted some flowers. They will welcome you on the way to the castle. I hope you will like it. I cut my hair and made golden petals out of them. Each day I made one petal as symbol of our separation…I have a surprise for you too. I thought about that every day. What can I give you? How can I please you…Something that you would like the most… And I had a dream. Your mother came and she told me. I have it. Come back home My lord. Come back home. Nothing tastes the same when you are away….”

Suddenly Marvin heard a screeching hawk. He jumped up from his sit and surrounded himself with fame.

“Ruffus,” he muttered. He shielded the camp with protective spells and created new entry space when he decided to meet Oracle. Marvin was pulling Ruffus into a new field leaving others secure. He knew that the Priest would know what Marvin’s intentions were but he knew as well that Oracle would not refuse to follow him.

“I will meet you on my own terms in my own mind,” said Marvin and confidently entered the pure land that he just made.

Amaranth Cave where Marvin spent many years in retreat glowed in peace and serenity. He walked down the lowest point where small glade grew its roots. I was a patch of green area with a little pond in front of huge opening with view of monumental mountains. He sat in the middle of the fresh abundance and waited.

“You are not protecting yourself,” Rufus voice pierced the space when he was rising from the pond.

“Time is empty. Each second is a new one. When you follow the change you don’t need any protection. You don’t need to protect something that doesn’t exist,” said Marvin and second after second he started to appeared in different forms.

“You know all the tricks Archer,” replied Ruffus. “However you are still a slave of love and your mission.”

“Compassion which you don’t realize yet is the nature of all. There is no escape from it. You can’t walk forever against the stream, finally it will carry you to the ocean,” continued Marvin.

Oracle sat in front of Archer. Now all despaired and darkness covered the space. It became cold and edgy.

“Why did you leave me? Ruffus hissed like a snake and penetrated Marvin’s mind trying to blow it with tremendous energy shot.

Meanwhile Marvin changed again and nothing was left in what was in the past.

“I never left. You stopped following me,” answered Marvin.

“I was so afraid that you would stop to love me,” said Lucas his old childhood friend. “I was afraid to disappoint and be left like nothing special…I am so cold, so lonely. Please have mercy for me my master.” Lucas moved closer to him and climbed on his laps. “Father leans over me please. Forgive me. Give me one last chance. I want to be happy again…with you. Please.” Tears rushed down on Lucas’ cheeks when he was saying that.

Marvin placed his hand on the child’s face and gently wiped it off, next he stroked his head warmly.

“I was never upset with you Lukas,” he said. “Freedom of choices is what makes us free. I was never an emperor. You were always free. You made your choice and abandoned the holy circle of peace but I knew that you would be back. I was waiting for you all this time. I am glad that you are back home – now…and my love shines on you.”

Unexpectedly, Lucas hit Marvin’s chest powerfully with his hand ripping his heart out of it and sucking all his energy. He departed from Marvin laps and transformed again into Oracle. Now he was standing in front of him with Marvin’s bleeding heart smiling full of hatred.

“Finally – you stupid compassion. You left me. You left me…and now who is the master? You are so blunt, so caught up in your world that you don’t see much. You are a born loser, weak and disabled by care for others this planet will be much better without your presence.”

Marvin collapsed within for a moment and became gray. Cave switched on again and now he was sitting in it with triumphant Oracle. Walls of the cave become shiny and moist. Tears started rolling down over them and transforming in light beams. All the beams traveled down and walk over ground towards Marvin feeding him with energy.

“I am build out of wounds. Another wound can’t hurt me anymore,” whispered Marvin. He brightened up and opened his arms quickly, spreading them wildly on both sides. The heart that Ruffus was keeping in his hand stopped and hardened like a stone and the same happened to Oracle who transcended into dust.

“Hahaha,” Marvin heard declining laugh of Ruffes. “Do you think that it is over? You fool. It will be never over. You can’t stop this war. As long as you exist I will be too. We are opposite sides of the same coin. As long as is goodness I will be on other side waiting for you.”

“Master…” whispered of river awakened Marvin. ”It is me Akme. I saw everything. He is gone now. Master…”

“My lord,” Marvin woke up in a front of dying fire and saw Gryf knelling at his foot. Morning was breaking through.

“My lord, your troops are ready. It was a good night. We finally rested. We are excited to be back home. The war is over.”

“Yea it is over now,” said Marvin. “Gather all the ashes for every fire we burn here and spread inside the middle cave which is behind me up at the hill.”

“My lord…” asked concern Gryf. “Is something happened?”

“O yea,” answered Marvin standing up from his sit. “I am going to check on the petals which are waiting for me in Shavinwood.”
“Saddle horses!” he exclaimed as insane.

*   *   *

“Shhuuu!” Pit heard frightening noise of sliding curtains. He hid himself under the comforter escaping from torturing light of the day.

“Wake up loverboy. What a stench. You don’t shower again Princess,” Max voice irritated him greatly. He started to boiled inside.

“Fuck of Max. Fuck of!” Pit said through his teeth.

“O baby boy is angry,” riposted Max and opened the window widely.“Coffee is brewing…toast…eggs. Get a shower and let’s go for a walk. New York is lonely when you write.” Max went to his computer. “Ooo and what do we have here?” He said teasingly.

Pit rose up fast from his bed and barked, “Don’t fuck with me Max! Or you will regret it.”

“O yeeaa,” ignored him Max and started looking over the screen. “You can’t even scare a child believe me. Yea, you scary Yogi Boo Boo…I heard this theory of yours,” he mocked him and next he began copy Pit’s voice. ”Don’t come to my cage when I am upset or writing. You really don’t want that,” Max looked at him opening his eyes wide and making a funny faces. “Such a shit Pit. Such a shit.”

“Screw you! You have such a bad hair day. I am telling you, big time.” told him irritated Pit and swing back to the bed.

“Pit, Pit you are such a pretty shit. You will suffer alone and you don’t need anybody. I know this song too well,” recited Max.

“You know what?” said Max after awhile of reading from the screen. “I like it. Your story is coming along well. So much passion. I love it. Sasha will be very happy.”

”And what is that?” continue Max. “Unread it email? Let me check,” Max opened his mail and read it out loud the message from Mirabelle.

“I wish to free the bird
The bird from my hands
Let it fly free
 
Put your hands undermine
Like vase
Like child
Like you would pick the water from the sky
From the lake
From the sea of your eyes

Put your hands undermine
Let them be tied in the knot
Forever

Let me know when it should fly
Lets free the bird
Together”

“Together,” repeated Max. “Very romantic. Who is she loverboy?”

(Silence)

“OK James Bond,” Max struck his hands in his laps. Get dress and get ready or I will tell you how I fucked Mike ass yesterday. OK. You can do what you want. The choice is yours. I will be back in 20 min,” announced Max and left Pit’s flat.

Pit tried to relax. He was shaking uncomfortably. He buried himself again in his bed and began to fall asleep. “What a lousy gay,” he thought.

Suddenly the door opened and Max’s head appeared on the edge of it.
“He had such a hairy ass…”started Max.

“Fuck you!” Pit threw his pillow after the disappearing and laughing Max.

*   *   *

Army of light crossed the river safely and entered Hidden Kingdom of Asuras. Early spring already overwhelmed the tracts of the treasured land. Greenery bloomed with double-strength and the freshness of air was captivating. Smells became enriching and colors inspiring, sounds of silence and peace comforting. Everything was awaking; again renewed, restored and rejuvenated, longing to be alive.

“What a wonderful place of ours,” wondered Marvin. “Homeland. Home sweet home.”

The secret name of Hidden Kingdom was Jamin which meant place that feeds you, nourish you or transforms you for better.

In Marvin tradition which was based on magic through controlling one’s own mind, knowing the real name of a place, person or thing was crucial. The secret ingredient of Mahoa magic was transforming one’s own mind and transforming reality by that. The mind of the practitioner, which was part of reality, through the constant practice of dissolving divisions between his own mind, and the universal mind of reality, was able to change anything in real time. Knowing the real name allowed him to have full control over the person or thing.

Only linage holders know the real name of Hidden Kingdom.

“Jamin,” cast the spell on Marvin after crossing the river and connecting to the grid of secret land, sharing the wisdom and energy of the place with his people.

In Mahoa tribe tongue, which was the root of Marvin family, “flowers” and “bloom or blossom” had very similar meanings. Flowers meant blooming, and represented all that comes with the highest state of development and endless continuity. Flowers symbolized freshness and pureness, pristine innocence, virginity, secret beauty, sweetness of nectar, which they produce to attract bees in order to deliver the promises hidden in them and fulfill their mission – procreation. Flowers represent explicit softness of magic through transformation by nectar, pollen and seeds.

It was widely understood that flowers have only one reason to exist – to please their master.  To satisfy their Owner who brought them to life by placing seeds into the most fertile soil, nourishing them, caring for about them daily, letting them grow as beautiful as they are and enjoy their creation. It was a secret dance of exchange, love for beauty and beauty for care. Love in return for love in the form of extraordinary beauty on both sides.

Love of the master is expressed in care.
Love of the flower is given in its beauty.

The flowers tended to have as much beauty as the master who takes care of them can give them. The master plants the flowers and dedicates an enormous length of time and care to make them feel and look as best as possible only for one reason – to be able to be pleased by their charm in the end, based on the constant circle of life. He always posses ultimate power to do with them whatever he wishes and his heart is always awakened by one wish – to let them grow and be as much beautiful as possible.

There is only one rule for the flower – to please the master who brought you to life.

There are not dead flowers in the garden of a real Master. However, there can be a lot of different flowers in the garden of a great Master and each of one will receive enough attention and care. They could be wild flowers, planted there by wind, as well but the garden belongs to the master and his soul is able to admire all kinds of beauty.

When the Master enters the garden no flowers die.

Marvin was leading his troops enjoying every breath of Hidden Kingdom. They were moving slowly excited to see their families shortly. Marvin heart was filled with joy and thoughts about Acme.

“She is waiting for me. She loves me. I am the one,” he talked to himself. “Every day she did one petal. She is so beautiful. I miss her petals so much. I can’t wait anymore…” he jerked his horse forcefully and raised him up on his hind legs and threw himself into a gallop. After a few minutes of racing ahead, he stopped and returned to his warriors.

“Gryf!” he shouted. “You are two hours away from the Shavinwood. When you get there let everybody go. All that we have, EVERYTHING, share among the people. Make it wise. For those who committed less and did less give more. For those who sacrificed everything give them the mind timeless treasures and employ them for work around castle. I don’t wish anybody to go away empty handed. Do you understand? Give it all! Make me a list of all who were wounded and crippled by war. We will take care of them until they are fully able to be independent. Find me all places as well where mothers delivered new born during war time and give special attention to them. Anthracite will guide you throughout entire process. Be fair and make all as much happy as possible. And! I don’t want to see you for at least a month,” He rose himself in the stirrups to full standing position and waved his hand in a gesture of salute towards the troops. He turned back and pushed his horse hard in the direction of Castle not looking even back for their response.

Marvin raced ahead not saving his breath. He picked from the hills,  which he was passing golden by sun, was a muse of spring and he dressed himself in shades of autumn. He painted his aura with simple flowers of meadows and smells of hay and filled all with the sounds of a river and rain. He called upon gentle, warm winds and surrounded himself by them. He covered the entire distance in no time using space travel spells. He passed the main gate of Shavinwood Castle in a form of a merchant, and left his hours in a hurry in the courtyard.

There were no flowers and the whole place was changed very much so. He went quickly to the stable, but was very disappointed.

“Did somebody talk to you? Did somebody touch you? Did somebody dare to desire you? Did you share your beauty with others?” annoying questions crowded Marvin’s mind as when he started to boil inside.

He tried to open the heavy wooden doors leading him inside and they fell apart in splinters. He entered the stable and the horses started to kicked and neigh in a panic. He walked in and the space expanded. The stable widened suddenly, and started to creak horribly. It was just about fly apart when he froze. She was here. Acme was inside. Everything calmed down. He began to search around but still he felt very irritated.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her voice. He flew up into the big chamber which was situated at the end of the stable above the main floor. There was a big window there and sunshine crept through it, dancing in the space. Acme was lying down naked with her legs bent at her knees, wide open. All the walls, ceiling, floor everything was made there from white petals with yellow and red tiny veins running a bit here and there.

“I already ordered to change everything as it was. I am so sorry.”

(She added after awhile of silence)

“I kept my face and body covered all the time in shadows. Nobody saw me as you do. Nobody heard me as you can. Nobody could touch me as I was as a dream, in dreams of missing you.”

Marvin was satisfied but not pleased. A cloud of sadness entered his heart and linger in form of mist. He was sad because he lost the euphoria of seeing her. He was sad because she was so beautiful and giving. He was sad because he could not respond the way he would love to and she would expect from him. He was sad because sadness was here instead of mad desire. He didn’t want to turn back, but that was what it was on his mind.

She appeared in front of him in form of a face made out of petals and eyes full of tears. “I am so sorry My Lord for failing you,” she said desperate. “I was a fool letting my instincts fall asleep. I told you about flowers, not because I wanted to challenge you but because I wished you to get in touch with your gentle winds. I never should have tried to maneuver you. It was disrespectful and based on lack of trust in you. I realized that now. Please forgive me,” when she said that, the petals of her face started slowly to become wilted. He crossed the picture of her in space spreading petals all around – mad.  He reached her quickly and grabbed her forcefully shifting her around in the air, now exposing her backside wide open. He spread her cheeks brutally. He released himself immediately placing in a front of her upper entrance.

“Yes master punish me, claim your total power over me in the act of my highest submission to you,” he heard her whisper in his ears.

She looked like totally beaten, surrendered but scared and afraid of possible pain,  she shivered but remained firm in the act of her offering. She looked like a hemmed animal that has no understanding of how to fight back or oppose anything even when facing of certain harm or death.

Marvin looked at her and her innocence, obedience, natural beauty…his heart and mind moved. He felt chills traveling up and down his body, setting him on fire and soft, gentle, delicate winds awaken by compassion started circling all and around. He bent over, licked her once craving in his mind her real name – Arch.

She shook, screamed in pleasure and came instantaneously, erupting like volcano. Marvin kissed her again in the same place and lied down besides her. Acme climbed on his chest, shivering and breathing heavily and clipped herself to in his body with her fingers, hands, arms and legs.

They lied together in silence enjoying the vastness of their minds. Gorgeous hills, monumental mountains, secret forests, pristine rivers and lakes, impassable oceans. They were visiting undiscovered, distant universes where no others had touched, nor any other eyes had seen before, showering their love into every picture and sharing it with others. After awhile she walked her ivory hand down over his belly and started drawing soft lines up and down and all around on his scepter. Next she grabbed it fully as symbol of her power and began to play with it. She moved her lips closer to it and invited him to dance.

Lips, tongue, teeth, squeeze, suck, bite, head, bottom, kiss.

He looked at her stroking her head and face, playing with her red hair. Her beautiful face was walking over his cock, touching her cheeks, eyes and ears. She was expressing her feminine care for him in every move, kiss, and lick and her pugnacious and independent side. It looked like she would have a private bond with his cock, like she was just with him and Marvin was just to allowed to observe it, witness it. It seemed like he was just invited for a meeting but in the room was only her and his cock and the rest was not important. He was just mere bystander of the process in which Acme was showing her deep feelings of love and admiration towards his cock. She was talking to him and spending quality time with him. They had a secret union, profound agreement and Marvin was not a part of it.

It was a truly pure, abstract, deeply artistic experience. He was enjoying enormously every second of it lost in the beauty of her space.

She brought him to full potential and hardened him to limits of strength. Next she sat on him astride and guided him into pool of her wetness. She dipped him slowly inside feeling how her tightness expands and her muscles stretch.

Acme exhaled and the dark clouds of sadness and longing after him evaporated in the air. It was a sound of relief and final contentment.

She began moving her bottom slightly to left and right, swinging and trying to dive him into her as deeply as she could. Next she was moving slowly and methodically up and down stopping for a moment and hiding him from time to time deeply within. In time she was moving slow and faster when she was focusing on top of his cock. When just on his head she was making fast and short moves for some time: up-down, up-down, up-down. After that she was delivering circulating moves with her pussy muscles tightly squeezed and her all her attention on the edges of his cock head.  And again slowly deep down as deep as she could to total and extreme stretch. And again cock head moving her butt to left and right and with many quick moves and again squeezed with circular movements. Now they talk without words through the minds.

“Your mother came to me in dream stage and told me about the prophecy of your clan. Your son will be the ruler of the entire universe. Precious one. The guardian and protector of all. He will change the spectrum of all balance. There will be no good and no bad when he finishes his mission. We will give him a name, Jacob and his secret name will be ………….. He is waiting to start to grow in my womb. I have prepared everything. I am ready.

Gentleness of Zephyr, Sweetness of honey. Wisdom of owl. Strength of iron dragon.Steadfastness of the river. Vastness of the ocean. Kindness of sun, dream of moon. Beauty of mooring dew. Love of mine and compassion of yours. Endless possibilities of universe.

That is my surprise for you. All is in me ready to be breed. I want to be the mother of your son.”

She squeezed her pussy muscles and tightened them around his cock starting to overflowing with the juices and moving fast and sharp.

“Acme you are the only flower in my garden,” moaned Marvin and fired his seeds into her.

Again they were lying together tied into themselves happy and content.

“Don’t change anything.” said Marvin. “Leave as it is now. It looks much better when done by your heart.”

*  *  *

“Saturate me. Saturate me with your love … I love you in her arms. I love you in his dreams. Every word in my story is woven from love to you…” (scroop – like a turntable arm would suddenly move over a gramophone disc and skip back in a dancing replay) I love you. Love you. I love you. Love you. Total decomposition of words. Cubism of feeling…

“The what?” Max stopped Pit in his contemplation. His potatoes face, slicked white flex hair and laughing blue eyes worked on Pit like rag to a bull. They were sitting in a modern space, but more of an art deco style.  Manhattan – coffee shop with no strings attached. Around 20 tables thrown in sort of an unorganized manner with a little bit heavy chairs, kind of fantasy but inspiring. You could hang your eyes on them for hours wondering what is it all about, questioning yourself if you like it or not. In the end you could admit I have no idea what is it about, but I like the whole process of discovering how dull I am. All experience of mind search in constant motion. You can’t get attached to anything. Whenever you will go with your eyes or understanding you will be kicked out in loop to the beginning of the whole process. I am not sure. I am not sure do I like it or not. I need more time. I need to think more. I may like it. But what it is?

It was a comfortable and nice place to be.

The funny part was that the domain which was designed in spirit of land was filed with workers from Asia. You could easily to be quoted here saying that exception makes the rule certain.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee was intoxicating. Yea it was amazing from that point of view. The best part of whole enjoyment was the fact that it was Manhattan. The heart of the city of Gods. The sky reaching tower of Babylon. Unbroken heart of immortal city.

There were two cities known to Pit which he fully associated with word martyrdom – Warsaw and Stalingrad, after September 11 New York became the third one. Three chakras of earth that will never stop bleeding, never surrender and never give up. He thought the same way about Hiroshima but it was a different set of feelings. Then New York was still like alive wound of Christ and because of that, so vibrant so creative. It was definitely the place to be. The best vibes ever. The most secret magic of all the time and his home now. City of Andy Warhol, Woody Allen and Max.

“What were you thinking?” asked Max.
“Do I look like I am thinking,” growled Pit.
“Right. You are beyond that. You are a Buddhist,” teased him Max rubbing his nose after squirt of energy raised from freshly drank coffee that burst out of it. “You like to bite loverboy. You just put me totally down Princess. You are such a wild horse, unride, such beauty and strength…”
“Fuck of Max,” slashed Pit again.
“Bite, Bite again. You hate us BoBo. You hate gay people. Hm, why don’t you make things straight? Tell me. Relieved yourself.” pushed  Max rubbing his nose again.

Pit was looking at Max like he would step in shit. “What?” he shrieked.

“I am gay and it seems like you hate me. Your behavior, attitude…It is obvious. And since you have no choice besides my company, because nobody will stand you more than a few days – you are suffocating. Is that so? I can see that. Just tell me and get over with. Hate? That’s what it is?”

Pit brightened and his left cheek started to tick a bit “Ting. Ting…ting,ting,ting” like he would be caught in the act. He began wiping his forehead in confusion and mumbled.

“No aaa I dooon’t hate Max. I don’t, I don’t think so…” Waitress came and liberated him from a painful confession.

Korean, young maybe around 21 to 23, tall quite tall for a Korean with incredible full candy pinky lips and very good size extraordinarily well shaped breasts. Her lips were irresistible. It was like condensed sexappeal, something that was immediately drawing you completely in and  leaving with no defense. Lips – they were not Korean at all. To full, to fleshy, to challenging. He smelled violas with a little bit extremely gentle touch of arouse pussy. Her raven black shiny silvery hair was tied in a ponytail. She was dressed casually – white tight shirt, unbuttoned just above her nipples which were clearly cutting into the white fabric. Black skirt just above her knees with short dark violet apron on top, black stockings and shoes on small coturn. She began to quickly wipe the table leaving wet marks on it. Pit looked at the table top and he could see how good she was as a waitress. There were a lot of spots untouched and unclean. It was a pretty lazy job.

“The same with the mind,” just thought Pit. “After some time your practice become so routine that there is no purification and no progress at all. Simply tapping formulas without any heart involvement or passion. Your mind is simply death and not moving, no progress on path, meaningless, just routine. Almost like here. She is doing some kind of job but not much is done and the table is even dirtier, more messy than it was before. First day when she first got the job she was taught how to do it properly and she was doing it right. With time she just become like a machine. Well it is not her fault. Routine.”

Pit was looking at her and desire became blooming in his body. He moved his hand towards her like he would like to grab her knee and slide between. He felt like pushing her over the table and f….

“Cutting the edges a bit,” break the silence Max and moved his cup exposing a dry spot like he would be saying – how about here. Next he lifted the sugar bowl, and this meat – and here, next he spilled a bit of coffee saying aloud, “Ooo I am so sorry,” but it sounded more like – and here. She was following him patiently smiling troubled. She finished once and wiped slowly whole table again. It was so much… something …of this something in her like acceptance and openness to be lead and dependence and gratitude and natural cultural obedience. She just followed and all what she knew was how to follow. It was comfortable behavior for her it was her nature not fake or something sophisticate.

Pit felt a deep closeness towards her. She straightened and for some reason her pen from her apron fall down on the floor. Pit jumped on the ground to pick it up. She was already there crouching but he was faster and the pen was already in his hand. Their faces met and in some way he brushed her face with his cheek. He looked into her eyes and got lost in the lakes. He touched his cheek where he still felt her downy touch. “So soft,” he thought. She returned his look and inflamed contrariwise and bit him by words “How about if I will Polish your cock head with my lips in that way there it will be not any dust left on it. Just thick, creamy cum,” and she pulled briskly the pen from his hand.

He chocked and ticked a few times again, immediately lifting himself up.

“Pffff. Yhy.  Check please,” drawled Pit.

“It is on the house,” she said and slid her pen into top pocket of Pit’s coat, moving closely to his ear and whispering. “At least I have minimum wage. I can afford for a little freedom,” Pit ticked again. Ting. ting. Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting. She turned and dynamically left him.

“Emigrants,” started Max. “Don’t bother Pit. They are all good and bad here. We call them fresh blood. They are coming to our country and help keep the economy going. However some of them have an attitude. You can’t help it. They think that they are the best and that they will teach us how to do things in our own home. Wrong. It will never happen.”

“Yea. I know,” said Pit. “They have no chance. They will be always second class. Only their kids born here will feel like at home. Emigrants are lost case, sentenced to wander.”

“Nobody is forcing them to come here,” said Max. “Anyway who cares… Then do you hate me more because I am local or because I am gay?” he accosted him again.

“Max listen,” began Pit calmly. “There is nothing about hate in me. However when I see somebody, I never talk to him or her about that I am straight. Like let’s say I see you for the first time and I go ”Hi my name is Pit and I am straight.” This is nobody business with whom I sleep. Why do you all the time with this gay, gay, gay thing. I don’t want to sleep with you. I am not interested in your sexual life. Why this is so important to you to let me know?”

“Because this is who I am. You did not get it, didn’t you,” Max snorted at him. “I was hiding it for a long time. I was ashamed about that and I broke through. I want to shout to the whole world my identity. I am not afraid any more who I am. I am free. Do you understand?”

“Yes I do,” said Pit after awhile. “You are free and I am free. Your freedom ends when mine starts and vice verse. You are free to shout and I am free to ignore it. It is not my business. You are not gay to me. You are my friend and I don’t care with whom you sleep. Besides can you explain to me all this movement about gays and schools now? Like can you imagine that we will do again at schools clubs or areas named “Only for blacks”. Can you imagine that? There was a war to stop segregation between white and black and now you-people are suggesting a similar thing. Clubs for gays at schools or some sort of special places. I wouldn’t feel great if I would be gay and going to my club at school knowing that being separated from others historically is bad, very bad. How about if Satanist will ask about the same or transvestite or cross dressers?”

“Pit, Pit,” you are mixing it all. Oranges and apples and herrings on top,” said Max smiling. “We have a right. We have to stand firm behind our identity and not allow anybody to walk over us. We can’t be a bully or treated as second class or pushed to the corner. We are humans and we have feelings too. Do you get that?”

“Yes,” said Pit. He stood up and buttoned his coat. “I am going for a walk. I need fresh air.” He heard Max voice chasing him.
“We have a right Pit. We have a right.”
“Sure,” thought Pit “…and I have a right too. I am choosing not to listen to it”

It was a windy day in New York City. He walked and enjoyed the vastest of space and dynamism of an awaken metropolis. He took a bus and subway and walked and walked.

“It is too much. It is not for me. I have to stay away from it. It will always bring disappointment and division. I will never talk about it. I don’t have to understand.” New York was healing his despair when he walked to nowhere.

Start spreading the news
I am leaving today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York

These vagabond shoes
They are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

I want to wake up in that city
That doesn’t sleep
And find I’m king of the hill
Top of the heap

My little town blues
They are melting away
I gonna make a brand new start of it
In old New York

If I can make it there
I’ll make it anywhere
It’s up to you
New York, New York

(scroop and record payer begun repeating another verses, another stuckness – You will die, death. You will die death. You will die death. You will die death.)

He found himself in a deserted area facing an old basilica, something from the Middle Ages, crude, dignified, monumental marked with God on every brick. Relief of knight with sword raised in the air aiming into an evil creature was placed on front portal of the church with the motto inscribed above - Memento Mori     < remember that you will die>

“Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani” Pit notice the whisper of wind coming from the church. He started to wonder.

“Come in Archer I have some answers for you,” voice pierced the space again.

He turned back and started leaving quickly and ran fast and faster and each time he was arriving in the same spot.

“Adam would you like to finish this war? I have pact for you. Come in!” said the voice. He was now in the front of mine gate of the church. Pit heard the crack of the lock and the door opened quietly. He pulled them and open widely, light entered the church, he follow it.

It was a huge space with hanging bows of the ceilings and columns, vast space. All was huge, distinct, enormous, huge, huge, huge, solid, but cold and you felt lost. Ten meters size cross with Lord Jesus in the main nave of the building capturing the focus of all attention and his face…His face was in complete opposite to whole notion of architecture and climate of the place. His face was radiant, joyful, satisfy. The smell of incense and candles smoke swirled in the air. It was bright in some areas and dark in others. Inside of the basilica was a reflection of the community which was gathering there. It represented well what Catholic or Universal church could mean. Daily church. General church.  All embracing church.  Church of life – with good and very bad in it. Church – exactly as his followers were. Church as He wanted it to be… Church of most… Everybody should be included and nobody should be excluded. Church where nobody should be left behind. Like pure love “is “– all inclusive. Like vacation package to Cuba… and next you have to deal with it.
It was quiet and peaceful in such a way that you could cut the space with a knife filled with particles of this conviction. It was church as church should be. Holy ground.

Pit walked through the middle overwhelmed by the size of the building. There was nobody there, just sizzle of the candles. He started to listen, listen and listen more into the silence. He heard a gentle knock and started to follow the sound. On the left side almost in the front, not far from the main shrine he found a small confessional. It was shrouded in shadows, but a little light was burring above inside. He opened short squeaky door and let himself in.

They were sitting together in silence. Pit heard beads moving on the prayer string and some whispers and from that field the voice of the priest emerged.

“Hymm. Pit…. You wondered this whole time what HE meant before he left his body. Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani - this last words of Jesus before he finished his agony on the cross. “Father, my Father, why have you abandoned me?”  I remember like it was today when he said that. It was a sunny time, but clouds were ready, waiting to cover the sky. Sun and sunshine were different. It felt like all were sick and in hallucination and sunshine made it all surreal.

There was nobody there during his death except for me. Most of them were scared and the rest were not allowed. For THEM his death meant – he is forgotten, he has no followers, he is erased totally from memory, he never existed. That is way THEY did it and that is how THEY wanted – alone and humiliated. Obviously it didn’t work out and left THEM with feelings of quilt and shame.

Nobody actually knows what he meant. How can anybody know if he is not him? There are some stories that he went into darkness and descended into hell. However why he should do that if he was all and everywhere present through his father? It doesn’t make sense.

Jesus went on the desert – fast.  I followed him. You can imagine 40 days in the desert, alone with no food and scorching hot. Nobody could survive that. You can picture yourself stuck in a car in Californian traffic with 104 Fahrenheit degree for 40 days. No chance. You would not make it. He did. He left desert stronger than ever and abandon all, carrying with him just one last attachment – love to his father through which he viewed everything. Before death on the cross he abandoned this last worldly understanding, his human love to his father and become enlighten. After saying “Father, my father why have you abandoned me,” he became pure light. There was no darkness or hell. He become all and for all in the best possible way.

Many times he was saying “My kingdom is not of this world“. He was sent by his father to show how much God loved and what is HIS love. He was sent to give understanding what God is and how we can ultimately experience him. “My kingdom is not of this world,” meant that you have to go beyond your understanding and as long as you will not, you will never experience God fully. THEY did not understand. They were too attached to what THEY knew and HE was a threat. He was at that time sort of a terrorist. A terrorist of love. I will love you no matter what. THEY thought that HE wanted to take away THEIR power and possession. That is why betraying him, killing him and humiliating him appeared the best way to go.

They saw miracles. They thought it is magic. They knew that he is extraordinary and they were afraid and scared. By the way I am not sure if you know this, but according to scriptures time of miracles ended when the last apostle died. Still church needs them. People need food to believe and they keep coming with more of them. They claim that J give them power to do that saying “Whatever you will tie on earth will be tie in heaven. Whatever you will untie on earth will be untie in heaven”. Because of that they can do anything. They gave themselves power to decided on behalf of God.

He said as well “Father forgives them because they don’t know what they are doing“. If they knew they would never do that. They took the heaviest curse. Can you imagine to be responsible for betraying and killing J Son of God and live with that responsibility and blame through the centuries? On other side can you imagine if they will not do that? It was all God’s will. There was no escape from God’s plan.  It was all dictated by human desire to be close to God, to be like God and keep whatever comes with it. According the truth – it is my God and nobody can take it away, even God himself.

This story is still alive very much so. It was 12 disciples of Jesus and he was number 13. From the time of his death 13 become bad luck. You will not find floor number 13 in any building in America. Bad luck. It has to be removed, forgotten, and erased from memory. It is only one way to live with consciousness that you betrayed and kill Son of God . You have to believe that he was not the one and more of a trouble maker or terrorist.
“I have to go” said Pit. “You are very confusing and…”

“I know why you left the church,” stopped him priest.”It is not because they wanted to fuck your ass but because of curse. You are number 14 and you believed that you will die like J at the age of 33. Do you remember all your visions, stigmas and events? You were sure you will be crucified but you met Buddhist and nightmare stopped. They saved you from madness. Am I right?”

Pit knelt like stone in silence.

“I see I have your attention now, right?” continued priest. “There is another fact that I am not sure if you are familiar with. In the beginning of the church courtesan was an natural occurrence. Women serve needs of priest and there were no problems and sexual scandals. They change that later on.

“What do you want?” asked Pit.

“What do I want? What do you have? Your pockets are empty. You have nothing… I want to be heard like you. I want all the truth out. When this happens we will see who is good and who is evil. There are books, unpublished books, hidden in the Vatican about reincarnation and the real life of Jesus and his message. Why not to make them available for everybody?”

“Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you tell the truth?”

“I am not a church,” relied priest. “I was part of family but I got kicked out. I am the other side of the good story.  Still part of it but I am kind of a black sheep. Not many would believe me. I have no credentials.”

“Maybe I have not much,” said Pit. “But I have my pen it is enough for me.”
“Pen, hahaha?” laughed priest. “It is not even yours the Korean whore gave it to you. You have no story and no message. You will never succeed. You are not a writer. You are barely a scribbler, but I can help you and this will end the war.”

“What way?” asked Pit.

“I want you to love me like you love others. You are Buddhist and your love is pure. I want that. There will be no more pain, no more suffering. You are number 14. Together we will make a better world for others with no wars and no problems. All your dreams will come true. You will be rich and famous. I will never betrayed you and I will never leave you alone. I just need your love. Love me truly and war is over.”

Space opened and Pit saw big choir gathered around the shrine and singing with angelic voices.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There’s a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can’t I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can’t I?

(scroop – rich and famous, rich and famous, rich and famous, rich and famous) Pit backed up from the confessional feeling drunk. Everything was spinning around, all become circular like in the lens of a camera and foggy. He was confused, out of touch. Staggered he managed to reach in front of the main altar where he fell down and I lost consciousness.

(scroop – Mirabelle, Mirabelle, Mirabelle, mon amour)

Good Morning Pit
Love You. 
 
I am glad you are doing well.  
 
Spontaneous.  Yes, I like the thought of that very much.  I have planned and pre-planned my whole life.  Spontaneity I would enjoy.
 
New York?  I absolutely love New York in the summertime.  I like it cold there too, like Thanksgiving and holidays. Manhattan is so much fun to sightsee.  Very alive.  
 
How is your book coming along?  I cannot wait to read it.
 
I use the word respect a lot because I feel respect for you.  I think you are a very important person and I admire and appreciate your thoughts. You are very special to me.  I do try to respect everyone’s beliefs and ideas because that is what their essence is.  We are beautifully individualized.  I also try to look at perspectives from a non self-centric lens.  Put myself in others’ shoes.  Understand and learn.   
 
I hope you are having a good day and staying warm.  You make me feel warm and I sincerely appreciate you.
 
Love You.  Adore You.
 
Mirabelle

(scroop)

Good Evening Lovely Pit,
 
Loving you.  You are amazing and I just will keep loving you.
 
I am glad your day is beautiful.  I was surprised about the Pope.  I haven’t had the chance to read why it happened.  
 
I would love to be in Manhattan with you.  I would like to walk hand in hand with you, kiss you on the subway, explore the city at night, see a broadway show, go ice skating in the park, love you amongst the trees and colorful sky.  Keep you warm and comfy.    
 
I am glad to hear about your book.  It will be a success because you write with your heart.  It seems when you put your whole heart into an endeavor, people cannot help but see it and appreciate it. You are incredibly talented and amazing and that is reflected in your writing.  In everything you write.
 
 
Love You.  Kiss You.  Hug You.
 
Mirabelle

(scroop)

“Hey Mister,” Pit woke up and saw the church keeper face drenched in alcohol. His breath reminded him of a barrel full of wine and breathed like a steam engine, however it was deeply refreshing.

“Hey Mister,” he repeated leaning over him. We are closing up business for a lunch. You can come back later and sleep bit more around evening.”

Pit picked himself together and crawled out of the church.  By the door outside he saw a beggar sitting on the side walk. Black guy, middle age, with beard and with a big fur hat. It was something enigmatically familiar about him. He stopped and asked him.

“What is happiness?”
“I I I I  don’t know,” began to stutter the beggar. “Iiiiiiiii don’t need anything. I am happy.”
“I wish to be like you. I want to suffer like you and understand. I want to follow you,” Pit sat by his side, removed his shoes and socks and placed his feet onto the cold side walk.
“Am, ma, ma, me,” the beggar tried to say something. Pit took his hand and shared his heat with him and melodious voice touched his mind.

“There was this guy from Poland in Rome before. White guy. All white. He said once, “Each day you have to wake up in the morning and carry your cross. Make sure it is not made from Styrofoam.” You don’t have to do that. It is enough that I did it.” The beggar took his big hat and covered Pit’s feet.

*  *  *

“Adam called to Mirabelle and internet was slow – whhhooo, yea,” terrible thought Pit and deleted whole sentence. He started over.

“Mirabelle was lonely and she missed Adam a lot. She loved him so much – what a dump!” Pit erased all again. “Nothing – completely nothing. I have no more heart for this crap.”

“Adam fuck and she fuck and they fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck – the end,” he taped quickly and started to laugh. “The book is over,” he announced to himself. “Easy peasy. Wonderful. Amazing. So passionate. Book about unfinished book. Note Book where you write your daily thoughts and there is not much of a plot here in the whole story. There is not much connection between page to page or even the top and the bottom of the page. Just daily stuff. Raw life. Life as it is. You just live it or plan to live and went through it. As it all can look messy, unorganized and parts maybe don’t match up often. It can look like total chaos but within all of the pages, there is the fabric of your life, texture of it. Seemingly, like a universe in which appears to be in state of chaos yet it is in perfect harmony.

Note Book – where all the pages are glued together on the edge by life. Life on the edge. Without not much of a plot in it but all is is making sense to you. Just like your life has just by being your life. You don’t need anything extra, no particular mission, besides going through it. You are alive and that is your mission.” Pit was offered to establish a spiritual movement or even party but he was deaf to all proposals. However, creating a new trend in art, and especially in literature was in the forefront of his mind. A trend that would be for everybody. Everyone can do it and be part of it and there are no issues like writers’ block or stuff like that. You just you make notes of your thoughts as they come into your mind and experience the healing value of the whole process. You are an Artists. You can be an Artist and discover higher states of mind.

Notizm (new trend in culture and particularly in literature) movement in art which does not require any specific plot, however, it is a precise reflection of life that holds the entire story together. Life that has no plot besides life as it is. Life by making notes about it based on thought which freely appear in your mind.

For example – Sticky Note Book:
Page one or chapter 1

Bag of potatoes
Milk
Butter
Sour cream
Lettuce
Juice
Visit at dentist/doctor 1 pm
Pick up kids from the scouts around 7
Page two or chapter 2 March 4 2013

Hi Mirabelle
Please take my car from mechanic at 3 pm.
You will have to take a bus and leave your car at home.
I will take a subway and will be home around 5.
I am doing dishes today and there is something – very good news!
I will tell you when be back.
Love you. Pit.
Fix broken gate
Buy extra Viagra.
Page three or chapter 3

Adam left the ranch near Denver quietly, early in the morning. Mirabelle was still sleeping. He didn’t want to go, not now, when what he craved for so much finally happened. When he woke up, and she was lying beside him like a skylark, keeping him inside her like pacifier, he wanted to thrust into her deeply and cum as quickly as possible. The blood began to circulate within him turbulently, and his heart pounded like a door knocker… However she was so peaceful, so happy so complete. Her hair was dug into his face and she smelled like Autumn wind. The same way when you just came in from outside during a sunny windy day and every vain of the wind is braided into you, into your hair, your nature.

He could feel the breath of her pussy throughout the entire night – a very delicate squeeze and release, like a lullaby. He felt her tightness all the time and spasm from time to time, and tingling sensation over his cock head. This was his biggest fantasy, to the sleep whole night inside her pussy joined together as one.

Honestly he thought it would be impossible to do – technically and that it would remain just a fantasy. That after a while he would slide out of her. Besides he thought that asking for such thing would sound weird.

Before falling asleep she sat on him naked and her pussy lips landed on top of his cock, in the same way a hot dog looks. She started a slight motion of moving her pubic mound to the fronts and back, swiping and massaging his cock. She took his face into her hands and marked wet kiss on his lips.

“I will turn back after that,” she whispered. “I hate to sleep alone. I always dreamt about that. Come home. She’s been waiting for you all this time.” Next she pulled her tongue out like sting and traced from the bottom of his chin up towards his nose and waved it romantically, like car wind shield wiper blades, on top of it. It was sort of a spell of a snake charmers and worked it perfectly. She turned around and opened her legs above his face and slowly lowered her pussy down towards it.  He could see all in a most exciting and mesmerizing view.

Her aroused, light ruby pearl clit surrounded by oval ring of complement and wings of her paradise gate regularly irregular like snow flakes. Elfish garden of pleasure. Vision of lust and contentment. Madness in every bit of space.

She scooped his nose with her pussy a few times moving to the fronts and back, leaving wet tracks on his face. She dove into it as well in her with shaky movements to the left and right.  She smelled of excitement and playfulness.

Next she sat on his mouth and began to crowd in on him voraciously saying,

“Eat her lick her,” she tasted like caramel.  She grabbed his hard cock around the top of it, and in an embrace of desire, pulled it down. She licked her finger, gathered some saliva on it and tapped top of his cock head saying,

“Nice boy,”

After that she came down to him and lay down besides facing him backwards.

“Hug me,” she whispered.

He slipped his arm under her, and locked in him putting on her other arm. She touched his hands and opened them and placed them on top of her breasts cupping them. Next she spread her butt cheeks raised a bit her bottom and started to search for the top of his iron cock. She found him quickly and run it for themselves totally. She felt enormous pleasure when the muscles of her pussy spread and stretched, welcoming him. It was like opening a rosebud from tightness into full bloom seen in slow motion or cutting a frozen cake with a hot knife.

“Uuussss,”she inhaled and,” A a a a a a a,” exhaled. “I like this moment the most,” She crawled into him saying, “Melt in me,” and she fell asleep immediately.

He was not sure if he was awake or in a dream…they were like one organism, breathing together. Her pussy was like fish bronchi moving constantly and feeding him with desire and sucking gently. He had visions of many places where he met all kinds of beings and everybody was very friendly and kind to him. She walked beside him and he felt her presence around his cock…Before dawn he appeared in an elevator. He was not sure if he is going up or down but he felt danger, that something was not right. It was extensively long ride filled with a lot of uncertainty…He was standing in the back right corner of the elevator and in a front of him he saw Clown – MacDonald type – facing the door. Gagman was saying quickly with a lisp.

“Love, love-love,love-love,love,love,love,love,love. What is love? Like raw. Like raw. Like raw. Like daily love not from a romance novel. Like fast food love. Uuuuuu. Uuuuu. If you will never let me down and always try to bring me up it means you love me… And the most when you are beaten like a dog! Beaten like a nasty lout or bitchy rag…When you have enough and you wish to despair, and still you will come over to lift me up – it means you love me. Hyhyhy. Hyhyhy,” The light in the elevator started to blink. The whole construction shook violently and began falling down rapidly. Adam became panicking and black bruises started to grow on his chest. It appeared around his heart area taking him deep down into darkness and loneliness smashing all his muscles and bones. He felt Clown hands strangling over his throat in a boa hug. Clown began to laugh and smacked,

“Hahaha, how about kissy kissy now? Do you love me? How do you love me? Why do you love me? Why me? Hahaha!”

Blood flooded Adam’s eyes, his heart stuck in his throat and his breasts fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird…he went painfully much deeper. Marian Trench…………. Suddenly he felt a tight squeeze over his cock filled with sweetness and he jump onto the surface and he rose on the wave of love….He was lying down on the ground with his head  on Mirabelle bent over lightly squeezed to the right, knees looking at her face and strings of her white heyish hair hanging above.

They were together on the light green pistachio blanket. There was a big basket on the side with fresh milk, yeast rolls, some soft cheese and honey. Sunny day, all around meadow, with long, late summer grasses, flowers, flaying butterflies and distant singing nightingales. Not far behind them was a huge oak tree in the colors of autumn.  The crown of the tree was…was… big and like a circle with many branches going in all directions. Mirabelle was holding Adam stroking his face and feeding him some pieces of bun dipped in honey with cheese. She was wearing a white, corrugated summer dress with straps adorned with tiny lilac orchids. He observed her for a while.

“What is love?” he asked.
“I love you.” she answered.
“But what is it?” he came again.
“I love you.”

“Yes but…” Adam woke up. He stepped back from her. He could see her a bit from behind, a few lovely freckles spread here and there. He lifted the comforter secretly to see it all…

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh” she was like an intoxicating breeze and warmth radiated from her… Her fragrance and the way she looked…her aura, an envelop of magic – all created an immediate reaction. Madness took him over… however he slowly unbuckled from her. She moved but did not wake up. He stood up and went to take a shower. He felt like he didn’t want to go; but he needed to go… It was the time when everything was done and said, and now you have to leave to reflect on that. The time when you want to see things from perspective.

Before leaving he left a note on the cabinet by her bed. The note was saying,

I think I may Know what it is…

By the way – hooker from Turkey, the one about which Barbara talked to you about- she was CIA operatives. Stan wanted to open a new channel of information and sent me over to discuss details but it was set up. We swapped in the end. I don’t do hookers I would be to afraid to caught something.

Ps.
I am stealing one of your stockings. I have to.

*   *   *

The cab was moving slowly leaving the ranch behind.

Watching passing landscapes.

No legs. No lips. No arms…Something was missing. He experienced lack of something… A hunger – which can’t be satisfied by any other food but her. After sleeping in her, after initial excitement, it became… she became like his hand. Hand was always there, you are use to it. However when he departed from her, he was cursed by constant cravings and “on feeling” like how it was to be inside of her. Together, enriched, extended, able to see world from different angle. Now he lost that venue and everything called to have it back.

The process of missing became unrelenting. He could not find his place. It started to carry him. When he was in one spot he quickly became nervous and agitated and wanted to go to another place and did something there and the same over and over again. He wanted to be out and in at the same moment. He could not focus. He could not gather or formulated thoughts. Flashes of her face, her gesture, her natural behavior and spontaneous reactions were appearing constantly in his mind and screamed with longing. The process of missing was accruing with multiple strength. Thoughts, feelings, emotions were crashing him with damaging waves.

Adam was looking outside the window.  Thinking. Fields of fertile soil like your womb waiting for spring. Bare trees like your breasts dreaming about blooming again. Houses full of heat inside like your rampant spirit. Cities with endless possibilities like your whimsical expressions in your eyes.

Mirabelle’s voice…its melody – was haunting him.

“Do you love me? How do you love me? Why do you love me? Why me?” Mirabelle questions resonated in his ears.

“You have to tell me many times each day that you love Me,” she was saying. “I can ask you over and over the same question and each time I need your sincere answer…Once I read a book about wounded people during their childhood. These who did not receive right amount of love. They will always look for reinsurance and validation. They carry in themselves demon of scariness that they are not good enough or they don’t deserve love since their parents did not give it to them. They were never sure about love and they always crave for it. This is a long term starvation. You have to feed me Adam and remember that I know when you lie.”

“How Do you love me?” asked Adam.

“I love you enough to know that we are very similar. However you like to collect new quotes in order to bust your ego,” answered Mirabelle. “You don’t see what is beyond or behind simple words. You don’t trust that. You always have to check and investigate and look for the reasons to diminish finally the fact of given love. When you do that you feel free again and you can start your quest for love once more. You don’t know how to develop a proper attachment. You always go over the board. First you love like nobody. Next you suffer over the edge when you experience separation. You miss and you are killing yourself with that feeling. Next to coup with it you look for mistakes and weak spots and …you let it go… Still I am willing to take the risk.”

“Feed my ego…nonsense. It is not so simple.” thought Adam. “I am wounded too. Nobody showed me how to love. When you never see how your parents love each other or if all looks like curves of the mirror – how can you know? From whom should you learn? Good example is the best education… Anyway what kind of baby song is it? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand. I am not even sure if she love Me like Me. Maybe she just loves “dream” about me and not me at all. Actually she never explained it to me…And she is so sure, so sure, so proud and blind with her knowledge! I think I don’t need…”

“Would you like me to take your luggage?” the voice of cab driver awakened him when they stopped in the front of the terminal with fights to Toronto.

“Luggage? I don’t have any,” answered Adam startled.

“I know,” said the driver, “…but I was advised to ask you about that,” he added and passed him white envelop saying. “This is for you.”

“Advised by whom?” admitted Adam, confused, and took envelope.

Inside was picture of naked Mirabelle lying down on her back with legs bend and wide spread. She was opening her pussy lips with her two amazing fingers and there was a note on the card, “You fuckin’ rock!”

Adam’s cock hardened instantly and a smile appeared on his face.

“Hm. Am I so primitive? Yeah. I think she loves Me,” he whispered.

*  *  *

At this point it is not so important where Pit was or what he was doing. What is important is that he thinks that he has the ability to see the future. Basically that what is the message here. He wants to make sure that his curse is not a curse but a gift which he can use for bringing good to others. He wants to make sure that he is not sick, not disabled but chosen to be a messenger of better life for all. By exposing himself he wishes to say to others who are struggling with mind issues that they are very special, unique and gifted. That they never should see themselves like a lost case or less or abandoned or forgotten or stigmatized or swept under the rug or with no future or destined just to suffer.

According to his knowledge just in Canada alone which he believes is a country in the best  shape during the huge global crises at least 3 million people out of population of 34.5 million, ( according to statistics, just these who are registered) struggle with heave depression daily. However, he believes that there are many more silent sufferers. base on his feelings at least half of the population is touched by n a nasty bag of spirit killers. The worst plague ever. There is big army of people out there which carry each second heavy burden of existence.

Most of his on line friends Pit chose, relating to them through their suffering. He feels them he experiences them, he admires them, he love them, he wants to be with them, he would love to help them. He believes that his story can be an example for them of how to rise from the ashes and burn with the bright light of happiness again.

In Pit’s world first he has to be sure that his story is true and that he is not just sick and lost but a blessed one. If that would be true if he could prove that everybody who would associate with him or read his story would be automatically be part of it and would have a chance to make his story great as well. If he could prove that he is a messenger and his message is a story in which all can participate – all would be saved.

Others who would believe it would become messengers as well. Messengers of their story and drawing others into their story and make them believe that we are not merely crazy – in a wrong way- dissenters, outcasts, with no social skills, bunch a of weirdo’s and mad people with no future, but we are just overly sensitive, touched in very special ways.

That we are beloved children’s of God, who made us this way for a reason. That we are not lost case but we are all winners because of tenderness of our hearts. That we are worth to be happy and feel healthy and accepted and that our unique way of being has rights to exist like other ways. That we are able to break the chain of suffering and despair and rise up and be happy again. That we are human beings who don’t see much now, besides darkness and pain but that this is just temporarily and our suffering is not in vein. That we need protection because we are special and we will protect each other through our love. Simply that we matter. That we are not alone or abandoned or left behind. That we are family, but not losers, yet precious once and because we feel more and see more, it doesn’t make us worse. Quite the opposite – we have a mission, our mission is to survive the day or night and be together as one, happy as much as possible. Being family and in family and as much for each other as we can.

Here it is.

Our womb.
Our grid.
Our power place.

You and I.
Me and You.
As one.

There is only one spell.
There is only one believe.
I LOve you.

We are together. All.
Join me and I Join you.

There is only one thing which can’t be destroyed.
The one that was never establish.

Pit believes in this story with no doubts, but he has to make sure that others will have the same understanding and if others are able to believe in his story, believe that it is true. Believe that the voices he hears, his visions and his dreams come for reality, tells about reality, tells about future.

There was no other way to look for proof, but to as totally expose himself, come out of the closet and in real time, describe what is happening. Tell others what the voices are saying and what kinds of visions he has. Let everyone see that and live through it and make up their own mind how much truth is in his story and if he really has the ability to see the future. Putting that kind of information out to the public would make a record and reveal how the whole story developed in real time.

Those who read it would become immediately part of the story and make the story alive and their story as well. They would become awakened in their story and would start carrying out the mission. Basically it was the main reason for writing his book.

*  *  *

Pit’s first public attempt to share the vision and voices directly with others was on Express Yourself project. Pit had a dream. He has dreams all the time all night but there are special dreams they are different in colors and climate and the way how they appear and disappear. Sudden dreams, that mark your dreaming field with such a force that you can’t forget them.

One night he dreamed one story and then rapidly, the transmission of it was interrupted. He saw Fidel Castro walking through a long, wide hallway surrounded by his sort of security staff. Big guys in black suits, but mostly of American Secret Service style. Castro had a big shaggy beard and hair, all in kind of a mess. His hair was red not dark red not red like Julia Roberts’s, but more like Prince Harry. He was wearing a bath robe and he had a big belly covered by a t-shirt. He was coming from a hallway into a big room and he was looking so so. For Pit, the message of the dream was obvious – problems for communist.

To know how to read the dreams it took Pit 20 years and still he was not sure. Dreams and what happens inside of them, most of the time will not accrue in reality but the way how you feel after seeing one and details stage who and what will be involved in the future plot.

Next day he posted his dream on Express Yourself side with question to others – What do you think? What that can mean? In a few minutes on his white board he saw information from Lady in range of 60 years old. She wrote, “It means that you will shortly wear army uniform and smoke cigars.” First Pit’s though about her comment was that see think that it will be war in order to get something what he like. He ask her how she understand that. She didn’t replay. Next day he learnt that comet strike in Russia killing and wounding many.

Definitely communist and Russian ingredients were both present in his story. A few days later he went to get pizza not far from his house in an Italian restaurant called Vesuvio. Very good, homemade vegetarian pizza. Waiting on his order he used to watch news channel that the Italians had on the TV there. He read on the first visible news that Raul Castro, the brother of Fidel Castro, announced that he has the right to retired too. Pit did not understand why Raul would say that and what was the reason for sending such a message. Meanwhile he was posting parts of his book with in which he was presenting his visions tied into stories and events which took place in real time.

It was the beginning of March 2013 and he posted part 9 of his book. He mentioned in that story about Cuba, commenting for the first time openly his dream and pointing out some eventual problems for communist establishment.  During the weekend he volunteered in a local Polish church. There, he had 5 very interesting conversations. They were all related to stories which he posted recently on Express Yourself. He ignored all conversations treating them as the usual as part of coincidence. Next day he received email from a British source surprisingly asking him about a volunteering job. He answered:

Mar 4, 2013 12:15 PM

It was a good but very hard day.

Like a maybe 2000 people to deal with.
5 masses plus there was a coins and stamps event going on at the same time.

We were in this big Polish center close by the church where we spent whole day.

I was spreading some flayers and selling organic products. Local honey, Manuka Honey – the best honey in the world, Tasmanian honey… We have like 7 different brands of the best honey around, donated to our foundation.  What else? We also have the best Greek Olive Oil, jams, lavender oil and herbs, and some clothes.

We were handing out pamphlets about our foundation and some gadgets. We promoted our next artistic event too – classical music and tango. Concert with 5 fine artists which will take place on 16 March. I was selling tickets. I sold 5 plus I spread all the flayers something like 500.  It was good day for me. I had 5 very interesting conversations:

1 – Polish young guy was talking to me about smuggling cars from USA to Europe and how he was recently caught and lost 40 ths dol. Nice guy but I think he was from mafia.

2. Some guy for coin show was talking to me about old record players and old fashion music. Nice guy but he claimed that he is about classic music. I think he was for some kind of secret society. He was I think Scottish Canadian

3. One Polish couple was telling me about their trip soon to Cuba on vacation and how much they like it and how much they need to rest. I think some people with Polish Jewish roots.

4. One of managers from the Center was telling me all the time that he has enough and that he doesn’t want any war anywhere and that he wishes for peace. Like all the time about the same that he want to end the war.

5. Some lunatic came to me in the end and brought statue of angel. He showed it to me and said that I am very wrong and that he is messenger of God. He said that he knows that I was abused by some high priest but it doesn’t matter and that I am very mistaken don’t believing in God now. He warned me that I should reconsider because my days are counted.
Come back to God before it is too late you will be gone shortly – he repeated a few times.

I have no idea from where he got all this information. I laughed and I told him that I am ready if he is. He said that I am not ready. I laughed more.

All the stories are related with my recent stories on here. I don’t care much. It is always like that in my life. Lots of coincidences.

Praying for a good health of the Queen Mother.

Shortly after sending messages to the source he received an email with a question.

 5 – coincidence?

Next day on March 5 Hugo Chavez passé away.

*   *   *

I will surprise you, a lifestyle isn’t happiness Pit, and happiness is being next to you day and night….even if it means eating oats…peanut butter and jelly sandwiches….and coffee or water. I want to talk to you. I wish to do it. I would like to please you.

I installed Skype. Would you be so kind and talk to me? I know it is too much to ask but I need that. I can’t live like that anymore. I miss you terribly. My user name is Spontaneity.

Mirabelle

They were sitting in a front off their computer screens in silence like two lonely harlequins. Mirabelle knelt on her big bed with legs bend underneath. Her head was hidden in her arms. She was wearing morning silky black dress her bed was white like snow. Pit was by his desk folding piece of paper nervously. Silence became unbearable.

“You don’t want me,” said Mirabelle quietly.

“That is not true,” answered Pit.

“You never want to see me…” she said irritated. “You never said you wish to meet…It is almost one year…email after email. I can’t read anymore. I want you. I can’t help…”

“How is your husband?” Pit stopped her.

She slid her right hand under the left part of her robe around her neck area and began to rub it gently. He could see glimpses of her breasts…

“Much better thank you,” she said saddened after awhile. “I am trying to help him… exercises…rest a lot…not too worry…war change him…he has nightmares…he is like a child…the doctor said that he needs a lot of time. depression. We didn’t have a life…even before Iraq. We live like neighbors just for the kids. He doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t want to touch me…”

“You are a holy part of my life Mirabelle,” Pit disturbed her again. I wouldn’t like to tarnish…”

“I don’t want to be an image. I am a woman, alive,” she said and looked at him like she would like to gore him.

“I am on medication Mirabelle,” said Pit. “I am totally physically off. I told you I am sick. It is about my head. I want you. My mind wants you. My heart desires you.”

“That is OK,” she said. “I don’t care about body,” She put both hands over top of her robe and gently slide it down to the middle of her arms. She looked shy and innocent like Mimosa or Nymph. A kaleidoscope of impressions began to swirl in Pit’s mind.

“I learned something from you Mirabelle. Something very important,” said Pit. “You can love and you don’t have to have many words about it, you don’t have to express it in many sentences. You can don’t know how to do that and still love deeply. You don’t write any poem, letter, book…And you don’t seek for approval or acceptance and there is not any demand there. I understand it now. LOVE –unconditional- It appeared to me very pure now, very true. You don’t know…How…Why. You just love.”

Pit pressed the button on his lap top and sent her back – the treasure of her mind.

Love

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at distant things 
For you are only one thing among many.
And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
Without knowing it, from various ills.
A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
Then he wants to use himself and things
So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
It doesn’t matter whether he knows what he serves:
Who serves best doesn’t always understand.

~ Czeslaw Milosz ~