Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Rise Of Cain (Preview of Chapter 1)


(The Author of what we’ve taken to be the first section is not verified. However after reading the complete text I believe this writer is supposed to be Enoch II. We will see more of the writer in a later chapter.)

In the beginning of Cain’s life he was welcomed into the world with thankfulness and joy; he was seen as a gift from the creator. This child would grow up to be the originator of agriculture, the first human king, and the builder of the first city. He would become notorious for his failures, which were also the first of their kind.

The mother held her baby and wept tears of joy, feeling her son was well worth the pain she had endured. “With the help of the Lord I have brought forth a man,” she declared this and then named him Cain.

 Cain’s father Adam had begun to adjust to existing outside of a paradise which Cain would hear about in stories, and only ever see a blurred vision of from a safe distance. Adam was severely depressed and hardly ever spoke the months before his first child was born. Even though he was still frequently intimate with his wife, the seed of bitterness was growing within his heart towards her. In those days Eve was at first sorrowful over having lost her home, and although she longed for the simplicity and luxury of life in Eden, she struggled in forgiving Adam. She wished he had been a man who would have stopped her. The great sin Adam had to live with was the original sin of choosing his wife before the will of the Creator, his Father. When Eve ate of the forbidden fruit Adam feared he would lose her, he feared for her life. He chose to eat with her because he loved Eve and believed they would both die together. The original sin Eve had to live with was the sin of wanting Adam to desire her more than anything, for him to listen to her before the will of the Father. She held the fruit offered to her by the cunning and appealing one, took a quick bite, and then turned to her husband and asked him to eat with her. In this moment she wanted him to choose her first.  

In the days following the birth of Cain, Adam moved his family west across a large field. (In the center of this field was the now lost Garden of Eden). Adam lived as a hunter and gatherer. For the first years game consisted primarily of the animals he could easily catch, like sheep and goats. Eve would gather fruits and vegetables to add to their diet, and these grew amongst the vegetation near the hills to the west.

While dwelling in the land west of Eden Adam lay with his wife Eve and then she was with child again.

Eve gave birth to another son named Abel, meaning breath or vapor. His name was decided upon because in comparison to the labor pains Eve endured with Cain, Abel was a breath. When Abel was born Cain was three years from being fully grown.

Adam recognized Cain’s inquisitive nature blooming soon after he took his first steps. He observed how his son would stare with wonder at the ants bringing food into their mound. Cain did not stomp on the insects, nor did he trample over their home like future generations of children would; Cain watched the ants, he studied them, and his father studied him. When Cain was able to run without falling, his father observed his sons' discovery of the seed. He watched as Cain took the core of an apple and buried this in a shallow grave of rich soil. Cain would drink from his mother often, and she would hold him and tell him how her nectar was what made him grow and gave him strength. Adam assumed this was the thought Cain had when he would take their water skin, daily returning to the place where he buried the apple seeds, and would then pour some of the water. Adam was intrigued by how his son discovered the smaller something is the less fluid is needed for nourishment. Together, as the days went by, they would watch this seed grow, with excitement by the first green sprout emerging from the soil, on into a sense of accomplishment when the small tree eventually bore fruit. The father was learning along with his son, but he knew Cain’s inquisitive nature could only be allowed to go so far.

Abel would feed from his mothers’ right breast while Cain fed from her left, but as Cain grew older his father encouraged him to eat as he ate and tried to wean him off of his mothers’ milk. Cain was in despair when he recognized his mother no longer wanted to feed him her nectar, and instead chose to give this kind of affection only to Abel. Cain started to spend more time with his father after his mother rejected him, while his brother Abel remained with their mother.

Adam would frequently take Cain hunting in the hills beyond the trees. The manner in which they would usually do this was to track their food and walk the animal down. Adam learned early on that the beasts of the field were faster than him, but then he learned they grew tired sooner than Man. During one of these hunts Cain was talking with his father, asking many questions as he always did in those days. Adam always had an answer. During this particular hunt Cain asked a question to which he did not appreciate his father’s answer.

Adam knelt down and touched the soil, taking notice of a large footprint on the ground. He inhaled deeply and recognized the scent of the animal, and how close the beast was to them.

“This is a warning,” Adam muttered. “To such a beast as this we may be the hunted. We will head to the left now and continue after the elk.”

 “Why don’t we gather the sheep in one place,” Cain asked, “then build a barrier around them? We don’t need to hunt the meat of other animals like the beast we are tracking today hunts.”

“I enjoy the hunt with you son, this is why we are out here today instead of obtaining one of the sheep closer to where we rest. We will not build a barrier to hold any animals because there is no need to. The Lord provides us with what we need daily, and this is why he wills for us to only gather what food is necessary to sustain us for the day.”

Cain did not respond to his fathers’ answer but he was not happy, for from this answer birthed another question; “Where is the Lord who provides us with our daily nourishment, and how come I cannot see him as I see you?” Cain chose to ignore this question on that day, and he assumed his father’s word was good enough.

 Now after Abel was nearly grown he chose to keep flocks of sheep. He did not withhold them in a barrier, but instead he kept watch over them and slept where they slept. The animals he ate were those he hunted separate from his flocks. Cain worked the soil, and had planted the first seeds of agriculture. He knew his father did not approve of him creating his own garden, but Adam never said anything. Cain enjoyed gathering the seeds from different foliage and learning how to plant each one, and while he was doing this he had peace of mind. When he wasn’t working in his garden Cain felt another emotion developing within him; he was jealous. This jealousy was towards his brother, who was now gaining more attention not just from Eve but from Adam. Cain resented his brother, and this feeling grew from the seed of sadness planted inside him back when he first perceived rejection from his mother. When Abel was the one who started drinking from Eve and was held by her more, Cain reasoned with this. When Abel was older, nearly grown, Cain no longer reasoned over the affection Abel received from their mother more than he. When Adam started to spend more time with Abel, seeming happier with him than with Cain, the jealousy began to blossom and change into another emotion, an even more dangerous one. Abel was keeping his flocks one day in the vast field which surrounded Eden, and Cain watched him from the tree line. Abel was so happy with his sheep, and Cain recognized the peace he felt, a peace Cain was losing from his own passion in life; his gardening.

Adam recognized Cain as being above Abel, and he expected Cain to see his position as one of authority over his younger brother. The time came when Abel started looking up to his older brother, but Cain found no joy in this, and he would try to avoid him. Adam did not approve of his older son planting his own crops, for he feared this would eventually take away his sons’ dependence on the creator, and his appreciation for what the Lord daily provided would diminish. Adam decided to spend more time with Abel, starting at a younger age than he did with Cain. His hope was to dissuade Abel from stepping outside of the Creator’s perfect will, like Cain chose to.

One day Cain was standing in the vast field, looking out at the bright green colors in the distance, the place where he had been told the Garden of Eden was. He made a decision this day; he was going to have the creator speak with him, not through his father, but to personally communicate with the Lord like his father used to. And the first thing he was going to do was give to the creator, so as to show him how appreciative he was of the knowledge he was allowed to receive.

Cain was being watched by his admirable brother, Abel saw his brother picking various vegetables and gathering them into a leather pouch. Cain hollered out to his brother to come out from behind the shrubbery he was hiding behind. Abel emerged from his concealment with a large smile on his face.

“Why do you watch me,” Cain asked. “Why don’t you go back to your sheep, they care for your company.”

“I like watching you in your garden brother,” Abel replied, “You look so happy, and this pleases me.”

Cain did not reply to his brother and he continued gathering the fruits of his labor.

“May I have some,” Abel asked.

“This is not for you,” Cain said, “I am bringing these as an offering to the Lord.”

Abel was fascinated by what his brother was doing and he was moved.

“You are not bringing any of your sweeter fruit,” Abel asked.

“The Lord knows they are harder to grow, and as father has taught us, the vegetables offer more nourishment.” (This was not the primary reason Cain chose not to pick any fruit.)

“I want to go with you,” Abel replied. “Will you take me?”

Cain looked up at his brother and saw the emotion in his eyes. He imagined how proud of him his father and mother would be if he took his brother with him to do this commendable deed.

“I will be heading towards Eden soon…”

“Let me bring my own offering,” Abel pleaded, “I won’t be long.”

Abel ran in the direction where he left his flock, and Cain started to head out towards Eden before his brother returned. Abel had to take some time in finding one of his most beloved lambs, searching in a living maze made up of the larger sheep. He finally found his favorite, picked her up with haste, and ran with her on his shoulders, holding onto her feet. Cain was almost close enough to the garden to stop and give up his offering, when he heard his brother running up behind him.

Cain brought the Lord an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel for his part brought of the firstlings of the flock, their fat portions.

The place where Cain and his brother stopped at was a dominant location, where there were two large boulders lying in the mist amongst the long blades of grass. Cain stared with apprehension at the sight. There was a thick wall of large trees with leaves filling in all the spaces in between, blocking the sight of what beauty lay beyond. They were at a safe distance, and would not dare approach any nearer.

“In there is paradise…” Abel said. “Where the Lord would walk with father and mother, talk with them, and love them. Father said Eden is a place of everlasting joy.”

Cain looked over at his brother and saw the tears flowing down his cheeks and dropping from the tip of his chin. He looked away from him and faced the wall to paradise.

“I hope the Lord still dwells in there.”

Abel looked at his brother and was confused by the words he spoke.

“The Lord is there brother… but he is also here.”

Cain was confused by his brothers’ words as much as Abel was Cain’s.

Cain approached one of the boulders and he took out each of the vegetables from his pouch, laying them side by side in a decorative manner. Abel watched him, while he ran his fingers under the neck of the lamb he held. After emptying his pouch Cain knelt down on the grass and looked up at the sky above the wall of trees (which was several yards in front of them).

“My Lord, I thank you for the knowledge you have provided me through your creation,” Cain called out. “The wonders you have shown me through the smallest of insects on up to the largest of the fruit trees I’ve grown. I offer you a gift from my own garden, an offering I have worked the soil to obtain for you my Lord. Please come to me and talk with me as you once did my father Adam.”

Cain remained on his knees for several minutes and he called out for the Lord again. The Lord did not look with favor on Cain or his offering.  So Cain was very angry, and his face was downcast.

“I am not going to let this food go to waste,” Cain said as he arose and started packing the vegetables back into his pouch. “Let’s go Abel.”

Abel watched his brother pack the last of his vegetables and then he stepped towards the same boulder his brother had just used.

“I still have to present my offering to the Lord.”

Cain did not object and he stood aside and watched with interest as Abel gently laid his lamb down onto the stone. Abel knelt down and placed his hands on the lamb, keeping the animal steady. Abel prayed, calling out to the Lord as he wept.

“My Lord, I thank you for your grace. I thank you for the love I have known. I thank you for the joy I have had while being with the parents you’ve given me and those in my flock you’ve given me. I take joy in the affection from these lambs, as I take joy in the affection offered me by my mother. So I want to give back to you my Lord, and I want to show you how I understand the depth of your great love!”

Cain watched his brother remove one hand from his lamb and then bring this hand down to the ground to pick up a rock which was near his knee. And he was taken back when he watched Abel lift the rock to the sky, cry out a thank you to the Lord for his sign, and then bring the rock down with a solid blow against the lambs head. There was a cracking sound and the body of the lamb had a spasm, but again Abel brought the rock down hard onto the lambs head. Three solid blows were inflicted onto the head of the animal, but several times Abel brought down the rock, missing his target.

Abel stopped after he was quite sure the life of his favored lamb was depleted. He remained on his knees for a few minutes sobbing and crying out his thanks to the Lord.

The blood from the sacrifice was trickling down from the boulder like a crimson stream, and Cain watched the drops of blood land on his brothers’ hand. Abel leaned his head against the boulder where the blood was and he closed his eyes as the stream ran down his face.

 The LORD looked with favor on Abel and his offering.

The earth suddenly began to shake for a moment, and then both Cain and Abel looked up at the sky above where Eden was. Both of them stared in astonishment at the strange colored lights which appeared as soon as the sun touched the horizon. So many colors were all blending into each other and shining so brightly, and Abel stood up from the ground and raised his hands up to the Lord.

Abel started thanking the creator all the more.

Cain said nothing.

Cain watched the morbid sight of his bloody brother Abel giving up his praises, while he stared up at the strange lights that he saw as representing the Lord. The dangerous emotion within Cain reached a boiling point and then he heard nothing, everything went silent. Cain continued to watch his brother, no longer caring to look up at the sky, and then he heard a voice. Cain heard a non-threatening voice following the sudden silence, sounded like his father.

Then the LORD said to Cain, “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast?  If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.”

Cain turned away from the scene and started heading back towards the west. Soon his brother followed close behind. Abel told Cain that he was going to tell their parents about all they had witnessed, but Cain offered him no response.

The next day Cain decided to go for a hunt, he wanted to get away before his parents, with his brother, came to hear his thoughts about the wonder witnessed the night before. Cain grabbed a rock and a long stick and then he ran into the hills. While he was moving he came across a scent, a warning (his father would tell him). He did not want to see a warning on this day, so he decided the scent would become that of his prey.

“May this beast pick up my scent and heed me as the warning.”

Cain was running towards the beast, which would soon pick up on his scent and sense his intentions. Cain took for granted the fresh air he breathed, and the strength the food he ate gave him. His anger remained this day even through the exhilaration of the hunt. Cain ran faster when he sensed the beast was heading in his direction. He had just reached the top of the hill and was standing on top of a pillar, looking out on a series of stone pillars spread out on top of this hill. He smiled at the sight of the maze of stone, for he knew the advantage was his as long as he kept the high ground. He remained still and stared out at the sight of some birds flying out from behind two pillars a couple yards out in front of him. Cain leapt onto the next pillar, and then to the next, he moved like a mountain goat. The beast who believed she hunted him was moving fast as well. Cain stopped himself after one more leap and the beast jumped up onto its hind legs, scratching her claws into the stone, and roaring up at the man. Cain did not hesitate for a moment and he slammed his stick down towards the large feline, piercing the end of the stick into the animals left eye. He then grabbed a tight hold on his stick and jumped down towards the beast, putting all of his weight into pushing the wood deeper into his preys’ eye. The beast turned her head to the right and Cain rolled onto the dirt below. He turned fast towards the beast, with his hand up and ready to strike out with his rock. The beast roared in pain and was backing away from Cain, moving cautiously between the rows of pillars. The stick still pointed out from the beasts’ face and Cain charged her. He shouted so as to let her know he was the one to be feared. He pushed on the stick as the beast was cornered against a large rock, and she roared one more time before her legs gave out and she fell to her side.

“I will not eat your flesh,” Cain said as he pulled his stick out of the beast. “I offer you as a sacrifice to the *Baal off my har[vest], and to my crops of *Dagan.”

Now Cain returned from his hunt determined to see his brother. With his stick and rock still in hand, he quickly found Abel with his grazing flock. Abel was happy when he saw his brother walking towards him and he was anxious to tell him about their parents’ reaction to their experience.

“Let’s go out to the field.” Cain said.

Abel nodded, still smiling, and he followed his brother into the thicker grass.

They were walking with haste when Abel was caught by surprise. One moment he was seeing the back of Cain’s head, and in the next moment Cain turned towards him and slammed his rock against his brothers' forehead. Abel’s eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious. Cain grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him the rest of the way towards the boulder upon which the blood of the lamb still shown. Cain picked up his brothers body and laid him down on the stone alter. He looked down at Abel and held up his rock, ready to strike again, but then he dropped the weapon instead. He felt sudden grief by the sight of his brothers’ blood, which flowed from the wound on his head and trickled down the rock onto the soil. Watching the life flow out of his brothers’ body was an awful sight for Cain to behold, and he was afraid.

Cain pulled his brothers body down from the rock and then with haste he started pulling at the grass below the boulder, throwing handfuls to the side. When he reached the soil he started digging with his stick. His hands were bleeding as he dug, and his heartbeat was rapid. He had to be rid of what he did. He did not want anybody else to look upon the sight of the shell Abel became. Cain grabbed his brother by the wrist and pulled him towards the hole he had dug at the base of the boulder. He would not look directly at Abel as he pushed his body into the hole.

‘From dirt we came’, ‘so back to the dirt you’ll return.’

As soon as Cain had his brothers’ body covered with soil, and with the grass he had pulled, he heard the same fatherly voice who had spoken to him the day before.

And the LORD said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, as he rubbed the sides of his throbbing head. “Am I my brother’s keeper?!” He could not tell from where the voice came, but the sound seemed to come from within him, while also encompassing everything.

The LORD said, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand.  When you work this ground, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth.”

Cain said to the LORD, “My punishment is more than I can bear!  Today you are driving me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; as a restless wanderer on the earth, whoever finds me will kill me.” 

(Cain believed that because of what he did to Abel the rest of life in the world would want to destroy him, and they would have right to, because he took the life of the Lord’s chosen.)

But the LORD said to him, “Not so; anyone who kills Cain will suffer vengeance seven times over.” Then the LORD put a mark on Cain so that no one who found him would kill him.

* Cain fell to his knees and he looked down at his hands. A couple white patches appeared on the back of his hands and slowly the pigmentation begun to spread, as if the Lord was pouring milk on his hands. Cain looked down at his chest and saw a couple more patches where the pigment of his skin had changed, and this too was spreading. He felt a shocking pain in his shoulders and his back below his neck; something was changing inside him, like his bones were expanding. He shouted out and crossed his arms over his chest before falling prostrate before the Lord, thanking him for his mercy.

 So Cain went out from the LORD’s presence and lived in the land of Nod, east of Eden. 

Cain wandered the land for years before he settled, and it took this long for his fear to begin to decrease. He was saddened by the thought that his parents would remember him with sorrow and regret, but he hoped that someday he’d attain redemption.

In the beginning of Cain’s life he was welcomed into the world with thankfulness and joy; he was seen as a gift from the creator. This child would grow up to be the originator of agriculture, the first human king, and the builder of the first city, but ultimately he would be remembered as being the first murderer and prodigal son.

*{ (בעל: Baal , meaning Lord.) (דגון:dāgān, meaning grain)(קָצִיר:Harvest-The last letters were not clear.)-This passage is interesting because the Hebrew words used-Grain: Dagan & Lord:Ba'al-were also used as names for Pagan deities in later times.}

*{Possible origin-Vitiligo (vit-ih-LI-go) is a condition in which your skin loses melanin, the pigment that determines the color of your skin, hair and eyes; chronic pigmentation changes to the skin seen by white patches which can steadily increase.}

Monday, February 25, 2013

Discovering Purpose

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A journey towards discovering purpose and meaning in life and the truth to why humanity is in the mess they are in today. A Military Vets Memoirs’ gathered while being deployed to both Iraq and Afghanistan. During his experiences the veil was lifted and the truth of humanity was revealed. No amount of money, weapons, or number of soldiers will prevail against a dangerous idea. We have to be able to change peoples’ minds, and the hope is in whether the truth will be shared with others.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The Origin of Our Threat & the Danger of Their Ideology

The "Word" is their most dangerous and valuable weapon, and their ideology is the largest threat to our world today. To win the war we needed to understand the enemies’ mindset, we needed to understand the foundation their beliefs were built upon.

The "Word" is their most dangerous and valuable weapon, and their ideology is the largest threat to our world today.

When the “Word” is mentioned in this article we are referring to Logos: “(Greek for 'word'); reason; refers to the internal consistency of the message--the clarity of the claim, “their” logic of its reasons, and the effectiveness of its supporting evidence.” The terrorists who attacked our nation; they believed in the unadulterated word of the Quran, and their interpretation of this word has been one of their most powerful weapons. Whatever message/news they spread to their people, the West, and the rest of the world they believe full heartedly to be the will of Allah.

The enemy has attacked us quite often in recent days, but thankfully no soldiers have been killed in these assaults. The victories of the enemy have been political, as they’ve intended for them to be. They know our media will start writing various articles about their attacks and the "word" they want to spread will do so quickly amongst their people and the world. They pay attention to people’s perceptions, both here and in America. They know where to strategically strike, so that when we pull out of their country the "word" will be, "We drove them out. And now they have abandoned you. We defeated them and now we will rule over you again, never to abandon you like they did.”

We were not properly prepared to handle an insurgency, and now the problem on our side is that there is a lack of us using true counterinsurgency methods. When we finally started to think outside the box, finally realizing it was going to take more than numbers and technology to defeat this ideology; our eventual attempts at strategy were too much too late. The “Word”; their Word had spread rampantly, and now the enemy believes he has succeeded in having most of the world opposing our war against the Taliban and Al Qaeda. We don’t win a war like this based on how many battles we’ve won, we can only win by changing the enemies’ mindset… We’ve failed though at winning the right hearts and minds… for our word has not prevailed over theirs.

Because of the choices our leaders made at the start of this war is the only reason we are in this mess we are in today. We could have won; we could have defeated the enemy fast, real fast. Hit them hard and in all the right places, strike them quickly and unexpected, which is what we did at first. The problem is that when we had them in the corner of the ring and about to fall over… we just stopped punching for some reason. Instead of delivering the knock-out punch to the appropriate opponent we went on to start another fight. When we went on to the next fight we gave the still standing opponent “time”; time to recuperate, to "think", and to build back his confidence… and time to spread their propaganda to the Afghan people. By the time we turned back to the original fighter again he was ready for us, and motivated... After watching us for years, and learning what to expect from us; he recognized our weaknesses, and took note of our patterned way of handling things. Our leaders were too arrogant and blind to realize we should finish the first fight before moving on to the next one. “In other words finish what you started, or you’ll have more work on your hands later; something to remember in the future.”

The enemy understands and works with insurgency, so their idea of victory is different from ours. They are so strategic minded in how they foresee the outcome that they don’t care about how many battles they lose; contrarily they consider many losses to be victories which motivate their cause. The enemy is focused on winning the war, and breaking the spirit of the “infidels” at any cost, (in case you haven’t noticed this yet). The problem on our side is apparently the lack of understanding true counterinsurgency.

Their “Word” is what drives them, and if we had struck the enemy hard and fast; knocking him out, we would have had time to present the people in Afghanistan with a better way. History has proven this method to be successful in how we handled a couple of large wars before. After World War Two- when we had hit our former enemies hard and fast; (Japan and Germany) - we helped show them a better way once the dust settled; we presented them with an idea that would prove to be promising for the rebuilding of their nations and economies. We offered aid and support after defeating our former adversaries, and we gave them freedom. Today they are two of our most trusted Allies, so we must have done something right. Now I am summarizing how we handled Germany and Japan after WWII because I’m not here to give you a detailed history lesson. The point is to remind you enough about this time in history so that you recognize when something is working, and you see how our handling of this present war is not the same. The enemy we are fighting today is not equivalent in their mindset to our past adversaries; they are driven by an ideology that has been withstanding for thousands of years. This war was not handled properly from the start, and in our counterattack we didn't understand the root of the problem, and now it seems to be too late to change their minds and show them a better way.

The ideology of the enemy is the root of the problem; what they believe the Quran teaches is the problem. (They consider their ideology to be an unadulterated interpretation.) Here is an excerpt from the teachings of Muhammad: Quran on page 117: "In the world there is only one party of God: all others are parties of Satan and rebellion. Those who believe fight in the cause of God, and those who disbelieve fight in the cause of rebellion. Then fight the allies of Satan..." There are universities today in the United States where they teach from the book titled “Milestones”, written by Sayyid Qutb; (the author being an inspiring figure to the notorious Osama Bin Ladin). This book is used today to inspire and educate those who follow the unadulterated view of Islam. Some of those who were inspired by this book are Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Haqqani Network, and others with the same ideology. The places where this ideology is being taught in the United States are widely ignored by the FBI and others who need to better educate themselves when it comes to the foundations of Islam and the teachings within the book “Milestones.” (People are far too quick to stand in the defense of something they are ignorant of, just like they are always quick to judge that which they don’t understand; study Islam then have an opinion on Islam, and recognize the difference between an ideology and a doctrine.)

To have had a chance at winning the war we needed to understand the enemies’ mindset, we needed to understand the foundation their beliefs were built upon. Any leader who studies the history of warfare or the strategies of war would understand we need to “know” our enemy. Before a trained boxer gets into the ring with another fighter he studies his opponent, and he asks himself “how can I break him?” Most politicians and other government officials who rule our country do not understand the common sense I am sharing with you, and I know this because I know those who work with them. The experts say, “Politicians widely ignore us because of their financial interests with the nation of Pakistan, and they willfully ignore how the leaders in Pakistan support the main terrorist networks in the Middle East.” As a Soldier this news is especially heart breaking; to realize money from our own government has indirectly financed some of the attacks which have killed our brothers and sisters in the military.

When the enemy strikes again it will be from inside our homeland, (even our President has said this). The same ideology which inspired the terrorists who attacked our nation on 911 is even more widespread today with its teachings in the United States. The ideology being spread across our nation is being widely ignored because our great leaders think a person’s religious beliefs, or their ideology is not all that important.

In summary; we can't just ignore certain truths which make us uncomfortable any longer, and choose to just focus on ourselves alone and our personal success; this is exactly how the politicians in power today think. Our leaders who are responsible for allowing this ideology to indoctrinate and radicalize young American Muslims, they choose to look away from the source when new revolutionary activists and violent Jihadis are created. These are not conniving politicians though, they are not wicked to the core, nor do they believe they are evil in anyway. These incompetent leaders have simply avoided that which makes them uncomfortable, and they find a pathetic way to justify their actions, or lack thereof. Just like during the Civil Rights Movement when many politicians avoided having much of an opinion on the issue, and they were more concerned with what their fellow senators would think of them then what was right. (Yeah, they are still affected by peer pressure, just like when they were in high school.) They are no different than many of us though; whenever we see something is wrong and we choose to turn a blind eye to the problem. We keep ourselves distracted with our children or our spouse, simply enjoying our little lives in our corner of the world. All the while we avoid that which makes us uncomfortable, and we choose not to think of possible future repercussions; many of the politicians are no different. Now I am all for family values and providing the best possible life for our spouses and children, but for us to do this we can’t ignore the problems in our country and the world any longer. All I ask for you to do is simple; share this news with as many people as you can. Our children need to know the truth if there is going to be hope for their future. We can’t ignore the mess we’re in any longer, or our children will be left with even more troubles then the last generation left us with.

The two lessons the next generation must learn is:

1. Never underestimate the teachings of your enemies; the written “Word” that those who mean to destroy you live for and would die for. Study their belief system and you’ll better understand your opponent.

2. Never overlook a spreading ideology which has proven to be destructive time and time again.

I would recommend you look into former CIA agent Brian Fairchild’s articles and his book titled “Centers of Jihad Support: The American Muslim Brotherhood.” For a breakdown of the problem, and the details which describe the root to the problem please check out the book listed in this article. All the information you’ll need is available to you, and there are answers to any questions you may have. Be warned though; what you discover will frustrate you because it’s all right under your nose, and has been for years.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Speech Against the Rapes In The Congo by Jeanie Chang

Today’s Soldiers face a special dilemma when we put on the uniform; we know that with it comes the chance that we will have to give our life for our country. We are also faced with giving our lives for the plights of those that may not reside in the United States of America. I recently found a cause that I would be willing to give my life for even though the cause is not within the United States of America. There are women, (excuse me), I meant females that are getting viciously raped in Congo. Their countries, societies, and even families let them down. America needs to intervene in these rapes for they show human depravity at its lowest point, the victims cannot receive the medical attention they need, and the victims are shunned by their own communities.
The first thing these rapes do shows human depravity at its lowest point. These women are not safe even within their own houses. The rapists come into villages and commit these vile acts within the very sanctuary of the women’s homes! Notice how there is an “s” on rapist; I am talking about GANG rapes, not individual rapes. I also need to correct another word that I am using. I should say females instead of women, for age is not a factor during these attacks. Imagine a two year old lying in the bushes, nearly starving to death, afraid to move because she has been sexually assaulted. That is exactly what happened to a little girl named Malia. Too many female children share a similar tale with her. The very “core” of the family unit is torn and damaged when these rapes happen. These Gang rapes are so violent they often leave the victims unable to control their bodily functions. Their bodies are so torn from these rapes that their bladder often empties in their bodies and they constantly leak and smell of their own excretion. The violent rapes often leave the “LUCKY” victims pregnant. The unlucky are left unable to bear children. The rapist demands that the males in the household often behold these vicious attacks. There have been reports of male family members being killed when they refuse to participate in these acts.
The second reason America should intervene is the fact that the victims cannot receive medical attention. These villages lack the convenience of transportation. This means that there is no way for these women to get the medical attention they badly need. Most victims are scared to go for medical help. The facilities are often located pretty far from the village the attack happened in, this leaves the victim open for more attacks on the way to the medical facility! Many of these women do not want to go and be told that they have HIV. Gang rapes often transmit the virus. Children are faced with the dilemma of parents trying to cover up the rape, to escape the social side of the rape and are sometimes not afforded medical attention. If Medical facilities are reached by the victims, the facilities themselves often lack the equipment or personal to perform the needed reparative surgery. In all honesty, if all the victims sought medical attention, the medical facilities would fall short of being able to meet their needs.

The final reason America should intervene is that these victims are often shunned in their own communities. Freda Adler said “Rape is the only crime in which the victim becomes the accused.” These rapes prove this statement beyond a shadow of a doubt. The community views the rape as punishment for the woman. They consider the rape victim unfit for marriage and soiled. This is a huge problem for the entire family when marriage is considered the goal of a female. Spouses often leave a rape victim. These women are often driven from their community. They are often forced out because they are a constant reminder that the men cannot protect his family. They are even feared because they may have contracted HIV during the attack. Unfortunately, those lucky ones that are left intact and able to bear children are cast away because they carry a fatherless child. Those unlucky ones are considered cursed if they are unable to bear children because of the attack.
In Conclusion, being a rape victim myself, I cannot imagine the plight these women, these children have to bear. But, from the point of today’s Soldier, I would be willing to give my life to help their plight. America needs to intervene in these rapes for the various reasons these rapes show human depravity at its lowest point, the victims cannot receive the medical attention they need, and the victims are shunned by their own communities.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Why the Universe Is Weirder Than You Can Imagine; The Intersection

“Here we go…Same place, same time again..."
"I gave the kid what he asked me for and I gave him what he paid for. Why should I have cared if he was fourteen or forty? He would have found a way to get what he wanted from someone else anyway. So why not from me...?”
“You’re mumbling to yourself again…” a weathered and lanky woman with a smokers croak says.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” the suited in appearance partner replies, “I hear no voices in my head answering back yet…”
“I ignore the voices in mine,” the woman replies. “So you remember the plan for today?”
“Well tell me again Stallion,” the woman replies, “I want to make sure we get it right, this time.”
Stallion sighs and then moves his head side to side cracking his neck. “I cross after the ‘Don’t Walk’ sign stops blinking, and I do this when the sun is just starting to touch the horizon,” he says, “you will stay on the other side and after I cross the intersection you will run to me just at the moment the sun disappears behind the mountain.”
They stop on the sidewalk at a street corner as a red 2009 Monte Carlo turns in front of them. The man notices a baby girl with dark curls sitting in the back seat of this car; he sees the pudgy cheeked girl smiling at him, a big cheesy grin showing her fresh front teeth. He smiles also, and reaches up to rub his cheek as if his smile feels alien on his face.
“She was a cutie,” the woman croaks.
“Sure was…” the man replies. “Do you think we would have had as cute a kid as that one?”
“Hell no,” the woman replies with a following raspy chuckle, “which is why I never had babies with your ugly ass.”
The man laughs as they cross the street, while the woman nudges him playfully.
“This isn’t going to work is it..?” The man sighs.
After a long pause and the crossing of another block the woman replies, “Try to be positive… it just might. We have nothing better to do than try something new every day.”
The man takes his grimy white tee off and holds it scrunched up in his left hand. A couple more vehicles drive by and he doesn’t feel the least bit concern for being modest. The thought does cross his mind though- maybe tomorrow I’ll try walking down this street in my underwear. It’s been hot enough these last couple days, and no one seems to give us must notice anyways.
The sight of snow topped Mount Ranier looks larger than usual this day. This sleeping volcano looks like it’s erupting because of the way the clouds seem to come out from the summit. The rest of the bright blue sky looks bare and the sun continues to exert the unusual amount of heat that this part of Washington is not accustomed to. The adorable couple doesn’t seem to mind the heat too much, they like the change, for nearly any change is gratifying to them at this point.
“What were you saying earlier,” the woman asks, “what were you thinking about when you were mumbling?”
The man sighs and then moves some long strands of his stringy blond hair back behind his ear. At first his partner thought perhaps he didn’t hear her. He turns to her for a moment and looks into her squinting brown eyes, she smirks.
“I was just thinking about one of my last sales…some punk kid. You remember him, we called him Beaner.”
“Oh, yeah,” the woman replies, “he wanted to know who “our suppliers” were. And if I recall right, you told him…you old stupid ass.”
“Yeah… “
The woman sees something she doesn’t like in her partner’s expression, something that makes her very uncomfortable, something unbearable that she wants to go away.
“He was a dumb kid,” she says in an angry tone, “a spoiled brat from a rich family who is probably living the good life now somewhere. Society would accept a punk like him before us Stallion.”
“What the hell is the problem,” the woman growls. She stops walking and her partner stops a couple steps ahead of her. Stallion looks down at the ground as his partner shouts at him.
“We never really talk about why we’re here…” Stallion sighs.
“You know what..?” the woman feels frustrated and before she continues she starts coughing profusely, and then takes a breath. “Shit Stallion! I don’t even know why I am pissed right now, because I know exactly why we’re here now. This is a dream, and you are not even really here honey. I am laying down somewhere with you by my side, and we are probably strung out on meth. None of this is even real!”
“Yeah…I guess we did talk about this before.”
“Right,” the woman says in a tone of relief, “now I think that if we follow through with this plan today I’ll wake up, and…well, things will go back to normal again.”
“That’s a pleasant thought,” Stallion mumbles as he rubs his lips.
The woman glares at him for a moment and he doesn’t look up at her.
“Let’s go,” she growls.
Stallion starts moving forward again when she is by his side. A sudden breeze rushes by them and Stallion smiles at the cool feeling against his hot flesh.
“There’s the intersection ahead,” the woman says, “we still have plenty of time so let’s sit at the corner and try to get some dinner. I’m starving.”
“We don’t really need to eat do we,” Stallions asks. “This is just a dream after all.”
“Well I feel hungry here and now, and this is my dream, so I want some food. It’s a psychological thing, and if I don’t eat here maybe I’ll never wake up.”
“That’s far out…” Stallion says.
They reach the end of the street and the woman goes to the nearby shade of a tree whose branches are hanging over a fence. She sits down and watches as her partner pulls a cardboard sign out of the grocery cart. The letters on the sign are written out in bold black ink and the message says, “Trying to get home, please help with whatever you can - change, food, or water. Thank you & God Bless.” Stallion pushes the cart towards the shade where his partner is sitting and then he heads back out to the street corner with the sign in hand.
As the woman sits back, watching Stallion situate himself and hold the sign up high, she ponders; ‘no one gets used to us being here around the same time every day. No one thinks anything of it because this is a dream. We always get food, somehow. This is definitely a dream.’ She then goes onto doing what she has done before, she closes her eyes tightly for a moment, trying to wake up, trying to focus. She opens her eyes and then closes them again for a longer moment repeating over and over again in a whisper; “Wake up Darla! Wake up Darla! Open your damn eyes Darla! Snap the fuck out of it Darla! Wake up! Wake up!” She rubs her forehead with her right hand and then makes a fist proceeding to tap her forehead after every sentence she mumbles. “Wake up Darla!” (Tap) “Wake up Darla…”
Stallion never expects anyone to stop and give him anything, even though on the days before someone usually does. He turns to Darla to make sure that she is alright. He realizes that he is rather frightening in appearance, with his skeleton like build and his long spider like legs and arms. His dark tanned skin makes him look like the crispy living dead, and his long hair and graying blond beard constructs the kind of image of a psycho killer from a Rob Zombie movie. Stallion recognizes this, but he’s never cared to change his image. He’s never even known himself well enough to recognize that the reason he has never cared too much about personal hygiene in general is because most of the time he’s trying to hide. This is why he was such a piss poor dealer, till Darla came into his life. Darla started to break him in just enough to have him be loyal to her and no one else in every way. Darla’s selfishness is very simple when it comes to Stallion. When she saw him for the first time, (him hiding behind his thick beard and long hair,) she saw someone who would be easy to manipulate; someone who would love her…and just be there. At the present Darla cannot even be referred to as a weathered beauty, there is no beauty left on the outside, and very little left on the inside. Her eyes once had thick eyelashes that are mostly plucked out now, never to grow back because of all the poison she has taken into her worn body. Her once upon a time kissable lips are now badly chapped and thinner in appearance with premature lines coming out from the corners of her mouth. Her once smooth face now looks tarnished as if she had been stranded in a desert for years. Stallion loves her just the way she is though, scars and all. She had never been with a man like Stallion before. Her variety before him was big, strong and tattooed, and in an age before that she preferred her man to be tall and pretty. All she had discovered about men before Stallion, (starting with her Daddy,) was that every man will leave her disappointed, and in most experiences severely broken. When she met Stallion she was at a point where she didn’t expect anyone, male or female, to be able to satisfy her in anyway. This man is different though and although she would never admit it, not even to herself most of the time, everyday with Stallion is one of her better days. She always expects that the next day he will leave her unsatisfied in some way, even though the days before he always had her feeling accepted and special…he didn’t even need to try to, he just did.
About an hour goes by and Stallion’s sign is starting to hang low past his knees and nearly touching the pavement. The red Monte Carlo he saw earlier stops at a red light being only a couple feet from him. Stallion glances towards the vehicle and sees the same chubby faced girl sitting in the back seat, leaning forward so as to get a better view of him. She smiles like she did before, not seeming to be in the least bit disturbed by his appearance. She starts to laugh and shows her little red tongue as she does so. Stallion starts to chuckle as well, and he doesn’t understand it but his eyes start to well up with fresh tears. The passenger side window rolls down and Stallion walks up to the vehicle.
“Are you a veteran,” a woman’s voice asks.
Stallion shakes his head no, he avoids making eye contact with the driver and he also keeps his eyes from the giddy child who is chattering up a storm now. He doesn’t want to creep them out.
“Well here you go,” the driver says as she holds out a paper bag, “I ate half of a sandwich but there is another in here. I am not quite as hungry as I thought I was. Here is a bottle of water too.”
Stallion smiles with appreciation and takes the bag and bottle. The light changes as he pulls back from the car. The lady drives off before Stallion can say thank you.
He lowers his sign and starts heading towards where Darla is sitting. She looks up at him and smiles as he approaches.
“My hero, coming back from the hunt,” Darla says without humor in her tone. “What do we got here?” Stallion hands her the bag and she pulls out a half eaten turkey sandwich and another unwrapped one. “Oh, we have a good meal here Stallion.”
“You feel hungry?”
“Kind of,” Stallion sighs as he sits on the ground to the left of her.
Darla gives him the half eaten sandwich and then quickly unwraps the paper around the fresher one and takes a big bite out of it. Stallion hands her the bottle of water.
“Mmmm, this is good.”
“It’s almost time,” Stallion says as he nibbles on his sandwich.
“Mmmm,” Darla says as she scarves down the sandwich as quickly as possible, “we better hurry,” she says with her mouth stuffed full. She takes a large swig from the bottle.
Stallion takes a couple more bites out of his sandwich before he stands up again. They head towards the crosswalk and then stand there, waiting, like runners for the gunshot. They watch intently as the sun reaches the horizon just above the trees in the distance, as soon as the sun touches the horizon Stallion runs. A car zips by in front of him and he pauses momentarily, then another car coming from the opposite direction honks its horn and screeches to a halt, stopping inches from Stallion. He continues running, (his wrists flopping rather flamboyantly as he does so.) The next lane has no cars coming and Stallion reaches the other end of the street safely. He is ignoring the young man who is swearing at him loudly before revving up his engine and taking off, barely making the light. With a trembling hand Stallion takes another small bite from his sandwich, which is more like two pieces of bread with some lettuce now since most of its guts were squeezed out onto the street when he ran.
Darla smiles and gets ready to run also, they both look back up at the sun, waiting patiently for the orb to disappear from sight. The minutes go by like hours and Darla is rocking in place, rubbing her arms like a drug fiend. As the sun is nearly gone beyond the horizon Stallion starts to feel a familiar sensation and Darla feels the same. The sense is like being in a sailboat that is rocking with the waves that are slowly starting to grow larger. Stallion steadies himself by grabbing hold of the steel pole to his right. Darla spreads her legs and looks like she is balancing on an invisible surfboard. The last of the sun lowers and Darla runs, luckily at a time that the crosswalk displays a walking figure. She moves as if she is drunk, and she feels like a child who has spun around in circles multiple times. Staying in the crosswalk is no easy task for her now and reaching Stallion seems like a difficult challenge alone. He holds his hand out to her and at this point a familiar ringing starts up in their ears, and they both know that the tone will be painfully loud soon.
“Hurry,” Stallion groans.
Darla stumbles and falls to her knees, being merely inches from her partner. She holds her hand out to him and he steps away from the pole and grabs her wrist. He pulls her towards him and they both fall to the ground onto the concrete island near the other end of the intersection. Stallion holds her against his bony chest and then squints as the ringing sound intensifies.
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” he groans.
“Shut the fuck up,” Darla screeches as she closes her eyes.
They feel now like they are on a giant carrousel spinning out of control and in danger of falling out of.
“Let’s keep moving,” Stallion says.
“Right,” Darla replies.
They both try to crawl to the other side of the intersection, which is only across a smaller street, merely a few feet from them. They see no cars coming, but they don’t see much of anything since they don’t open their eyes for long, being too painful to do so. They know that they are heading in the right direction. Their crawl is more like a scoot across the pavement, a dragging of their legs as they claw at the concrete. The painful ringing in their ears intensifies and the vertigo does also. They feel as if they are dragging weights behind them, and their frustration grows with every subtle movement.
“We’re going to make it,” Darla shouts. “I’m going to wake up!”
“Keep reaching,” Stallion calls back to her. She is near his knees now as he is slightly in the lead. Stallion reaches out his left hand in front of him and feels cool grass to the touch. “I feel the other side. Keep moving.”
Darla has paused and is now grabbing the sides of her head in pain, lying on her back she groans. Stallion reaches back for her and grabs the strap of her tank top to help drag her along.
They both keep their eyes closed now as Stallion feels more grass in front of him. With his other hand he pulls Darla up next to him. He uses all the strength he can muster as Darla struggles to push off of the ground with her feet. Darla feels grass now also and she smiles with satisfaction. They both rest now and try to catch their breath. Stallion coughs and then turns to his side and throws up, spewing up mostly water and stomach acid. Darla is coughing profusely also. They open their eyes and the familiar feeling of disenchantment envelops them.
When before Darla would have cursed or wept, maybe even yelled at her partner and placed all of the blame on him…not this time. This time she just sits up without a sound, not even a groan of disappointment. Stallion doesn’t even sit up; he just stares up at the sky scratching his chest. He’s in no hurry to see what Darla sees now, for he can feel where they’re at now. Like what happens with most places we visit frequently, Stallion can just tell. With some unnamed sense he knows where he is at now. Like a frequent scent, or taste that one grows tired of, the place feels so bland. He thinks back on a time when he worked for a carpentry shop, he had worked there for years. His life had a routine back then that on most days he went through in autopilot. Every morning he drove down the same road at the same time, and whenever he entered into that shop everything was always the same. The smell, the placement of seats and tools, even the coffee stains near the old pot, all the same. His everyday life was groundhogs day back then. He remembers being at the point where he felt that he could go through a day’s work in that shop, maneuvering from place to place without even opening his eyes. The old carpentry shop became personified boredom to him, the memory of the place has a certain feel to it similar to the place he knows he’s at now.
“Do you want to try going the other way today, or maybe just napping here all day, hoping we wake up tomorrow somewhere else?” Stallion speaks in a passive and exhausted tone as he puts on his grimy white tee. 
Darla does not reply at first, she just stares down the long street, seeing the reddish orange taint in the sky where the sun will soon emerge. There are no cars on the street now, and they are sitting in the grass in front of a large steel fence. She knows that they are roughly near the center of this long street. In one direction there is the intersection where she recalls being only a short time ago, at the other end there is a large park across from another intersection. Where they are sitting now they cannot see either end of the street, just the familiar sight of what appears to be an endless row of old wooden telephone poles, and the large shadowy figures of trees in framing the street, going on for miles. Stallion sits up beside Darla and gazes out at the distant red taint in the sky.
“Maybe we can try going down one of the blocks again, but we’ll wait till the sun sets,” Stallion suggests, sounding unconvinced that this could work.
“We’ve done that before,” Darla sighs. “Maybe we can search the side of the road for some ruby slippers, and then I could just put them on and tap my way out of this nightmare.”
Stallion smiles and then rubs his wrist against her shoulder. “Maybe we could try that. I’m pretty sure we have not tried that yet.”
“I don’t feel like walking much today,” Darla says. “I think I’m just going to sleep.” She lays back and then assumes the fetal position on her right side.
Stallion looks down at her and watches her close her eyes. He stares at her for a while as the sun emerges. He starts to feel dreadfully sad, as he has days before while sitting in this same place. He feels frustrated, his mind tired. ‘Why can’t I think more clearly? What am I missing? It’s so hard to think…I must be drugged in some way. Maybe some psychic vampire is feeding off of me. I remember reading about them once. They feed off of people’s emotions instead of their blood, maybe one has me locked up in a room in some kind of coma. And they are just draining me. I hope they are not feeding off of Darla too. They must be…No, no, this is stupid. I’m stupid. Son of a bitch…!’
Stallion stands up and sees a silhouette of someone in the distance, heading his way; they are coming from the direction that leads to the park.
“Maybe I’ll try talking to a passerby again. I can do that…” Stallion mumbles, “I won’t freak them out this time. I won’t scare them. I’ll try talking to them, just casual conversation. The last time Darla and I spoke with someone on this road we tried following them down a street block…but the ringing started again, and that dizzy feeling…then we was here again….”
“Shut up…” Darla groans. “Quite, you’re fucking mumbling. Just lay your ass down and sleep Stallion. I don’t feel like trying anything today.”
“Maybe this one is like us,” Stallion says as he scratches his chest. “Maybe he’s trapped here too…”
“We tried that before with people Stallion,” Darla says in a muffled tone as she buries her face into her arm. “They thought we were crazy than and they will again.”
“It will be different this time…It could be…” Stallion whispers. “This person is different.”
“Hopefully this time whoever they are won’t beat your ass,” Darla says as she turns her head to one side trying to find comfort. “I remember you approached a group of teenagers once, and told them we were trapped on this road and needed help. They laughed at you. When you pushed the issue one of them shoved you and told you to “back the fuck off crazy old man!” If I recall correctly, it went something like that.
“Yeah…” Stallion looks down at the ground with an air of disappointment in his crazy blue eyes. “It went something like that…”
“Go to sleep Stallion.”
“I am going to talk to this guy,” he bites his bottom lip as he speaks and his eyes widen, “I have to try…Yeah… I have to try to get you out of here. I can’t stop trying.”
Stallion starts walking towards the approaching stranger, whose face he cannot see too well yet. The shadows from the trees to his right cross over the stranger as he walks. Only when he passes under a street lamp does Stallion see him more clearly. The man is wearing a green baseball cap and a blue jacket. His hands are in his jacket pockets and he is walking with a slouch, holding his shoulders up high as if his neck is cold.
Stallion stops walking, and he quickly turns his gaze away from the approaching stranger. He doesn’t want to creep him out. He decides to lean against an old fence post, trying to look casual, he just waits.
As the man draws nearer he shouts, “Hey there!” he quickens his pace, “Hey, mister!?” Stallion steps off from the fence post.
The stranger stops a few feet from Stallion and he looks up at him with a rise of two pronounced eyebrows.
“Hey there, can you help me with something, shouldn’t take long?”
Stallion doesn’t reply at first, and he resists looking back at Darla, who is still laying down, being hidden in the shadows a short ways back. Stallion nods.
“Great! Great…” The man replies in a kind voice. “Just this way,” the stranger says as he turns around and starts heading back the way he came.
Stallion feels hesitant but he follows behind anyways.
“Do you think maybe you could help me out with something after this,” Stallion asks in a passive tone.
“Yeah, sure man!” The stranger quickly replies. “I have a fairly large favor to ask of you so I’ll try to help you with whatever you need after.”
“So what’s wrong,” Stallion asks.
“I’ll show you, it’s my truck.”
The two men walk for a few blocks and then the stranger turns towards the next block seeming to be about to head down this street. Stallion stops. The stranger stops also and looks back at him with a smile.
“You all right,” he asks with a turn of his head.
“Yeah,” Stallion replies. “You heading down this street?”
“No, not really,” the stranger says. “My trucks right there.” He points towards a dirty black Ford that is parked just off the side of the street in a small ditch with its backend facing down the turn.
“Alright,” Stallion replies. He doesn’t hear the ringing in his ears, nor does he feel dizzy in the least. “I can’t go too much further.”
“Okay…” the stranger says sounding a little confused. “I tell you what,” he says after a moment. “I’ll move my truck up to this point.”
“Okay…” Stallion is confused now, because he thought the problem was that the truck wouldn’t start.
Stallion watches the man head towards his vehicle. Before he gets in he looks around, seeming to be hoping no one else is near. He opens the driver’s side door and then slams it shut once he’s inside. In the next moment he starts the engine and then slowly drives up to where Stallion is standing. The truck stops a couple feet from Stallion and the stranger shuts the engine off. He gets out but doesn’t close the door behind him. He presses a button behind his seat and then pushes the seat forward exposing the back seat of his truck. Stallion sees a large red sleeping back in the back, that’s clearly not empty.
“Well this is what I need you to help me with,” the stranger says in frustration.
Stallion is confused, and as the man looks at him again he suspects that he has seen this stranger before. The man scowls and then rubs the side of his face.
“You look familiar,” the stranger says, “real familiar.”
Stallion looks into the man’s eyes and sees something he should have recognized sooner. The strangers eyes are dilated, his dark pupils fill the white of his eyes. The smell is obvious also.
“Yeah…I know you,” the stranger says. “Wow, I sure do.” He sounds humored. “You still working this street? After all these years…That’s crazy!”
“I think you might have me confused with somebody else…” Stallion says, sounding unsure.
“Ha! No way man! You don’t have a face that can be mistaken bro.”
Stallion does not reply, but he stares at the man in a more inquisitive manner now.
“You took my cherry man!” The stranger says, “I bought some junk from you back when I was kid. The place was not too far from where we are standing now. Damn, it’s been a long time! The last time I was here was years ago, and I am almost sure that the last person I talked to on this very street was you.”
Stallion’s eyes widen and the stranger takes a step back.
“Man, your eyes are still tweaky.” He laughs after saying this, a nervous chuckle.
“I remember you…” Stallion sighs before saying this. This sigh seems to drain all of his energy and his arms hang limp at his sides. He closes his eyes for a moment and then lowers his head so that his chin is touching his chest.
“You okay man?”
“Yeah…” Stallion says before raising his head and looking at the man again. “You look different.”
“You don’t look like you’ve changed much at all,” the man replies. “In fact…I think you were wearing the same clothes when I saw you last…”
“Yeah…” Stallion looks at the sleeping bag. “Whatever you need me to help you with, I will. I owe you kid…”
“Well alright than, cool,” the man says as he climbs into the back seat of his truck. He is hunched over now because of the small space. He beckons for Stallion to come closer. Stallion moves forward and leans into the vehicle.
“Now, don’t freak out now man,” the man says, “I was driving down a dirt road the other day. I was trying to take a shortcut on my way to visit my old buddy from high school. I saw this in the field and checked it out. I found her like this…I swear I didn’t do this…” he turns to Stallion now and is smiling. Beads of sweat are forming on his brow and he sounds like he is out of breath.
Stallion smells a less familiar scent now, something unlike the meth fiend who is talking to him now, something worse.
“What were you wanting to do with…this?” Stallion asks in a scratchy tone.
“Well,” the man chuckles again, “at first I was thinking…” he wipes some sweat from his face with the back of his hand, “ well I was thinking that I wanted to save the woman’s family from paying for a funeral…I mean I could tell that she is from a poor home. They’re probably some hillbillies that live out there deep in the Washington woods.” (Stallion looks down at the floor of the truck as the man is talking, and he sees some zip ties and a rusty ten pound weight. He turns his eyes to the cup holder on the driver’s side door and sees the top of a black cell phone also.) “So, I at first thought that maybe I would find a swamp and…you know get rid of this…sad mess.” He chuckles again. Stallion looks up at him now with his wide bright blue eyes.
“Why didn’t you do that,” Stallions asks.
The man chuckles nervously again and says, “Ah, man…I had been on the road for a while. I was tweaking out when I came across…this, and well, I originally intended to just toss her into some swamp but…” He laughs more, sounding a little more hysterical this time. Stallion continues to stare at him.
“But what..?”
“Well I had sex with her man, instead…” he looks at Stallion for a moment, while chewing on the inside of his right cheek for a painfully long moment. He then bursts into laughter again and says, “Man, I tell you, those eyes of yours! So anyways, I decided to drive her back to my place after I…”(he turns his head to the right, stretching his neck out far he does three slow and long nods of his head), “you know, after I did the deed.” (Stallion continues to stare at him.) “You know maybe you can come by my new place sometime, and we can catch up man…You still with that girl? What was her name?”
Stallion continues to stare at this old acquaintance. He was not caring too much for the conversation they were just having and he cares even less for the change of conversation to involving Darla. He is suddenly feeling very much awake in these moments. His mind does not feel like his thought processes travel from place to place through a thick sludge. He notices now that the wheels in his head have been oiled, and they are turning at a much smoother and faster pace. His engine is revved, adrenaline pumping, and he knows that he must act fast….somehow everything is starting to make some kind of sense. The man stares back into his eyes trying to hold back another outburst of laughter. He tries to widen his stare, trying to outdo Stallion’s wide glare. Droplets of sweat are coming down from the sides of his face now.
“Soooo,” the man says, “you ready?” He pulls back the flap on the sleeping bag and reveals the woman inside.
Stallion glances down and sees what appears to be a fifty something year old woman. Her eyes are closed, and her bottom lip hangs down grotesquely. Some dry blood comes from her hanging bottom lip and goes down to her swollen neck. Stallion doesn’t need to see anymore, and he turns his eyes back up to the man’s face.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I was wondering if you could help me dispose of the body,” the man says in a strangely nonchalant tone. “If I go to the police now they’d think I killed her.”
Stallion nods and says, “Okay. The man smiles and in the next moment Stallion grabs the cell phone from the cup holder and then slams the door shut. The man stares with a confused expression on his face as Stallion runs onto the main street heading in the opposite direction of where Darla is laying.
Stallion feels his heart trying to pound out of his chest but he keeps moving as fast as his scrawny legs will take him. He flips the phone open and dials 911. He looks back as he brings the phone up to his ear. He sees the truck turning in his direction, moving slowly. Someone answers his call and he starts spewing out his location before the officer on the line can ask him any questions.
The man in the truck takes his hat off and throws it onto the passenger seat, and then he cracks his neck and swears. “Damn it old man, you said you were going to help me.” He steps on the gas.
“Yes, she’s dead! He asked me to help him dispose of the body,” Stallion shouts to the officer on the line, “I’m sure she is dead, yes. Please hurry!” Stallion closes the phone and drops it to the ground as he hears the truck speeding up onto his tail.
“Why are you running,” the driver shouts out his window as he is only a couple feet from Stallion now. “I didn’t kill her!”
Stallion steps off to the side of the street and then jumps over a small ditch. The truck zips by him, being merely inches from running over him. Stallion’s ears start to ring and the familiar feeling of vertigo hits him hard, causing him to fall to the ground, being only a couple feet from the street.
“I can’t go now…” Stallion moans, “I have to get Darla.”
The truck turns around and then pulls up to the place where Stallion jumped out from the street. The driver gets out with haste (leaving his vehicle running,) he then jumps over the small ditch. He scans the area in front of him but doesn’t see Stallion.
“Where are you man?” The man asks, “You said you were going to help me. Come on man, come out! I’ll help you. I know you’re behind that tree.” There are many trees in front of the man, but he doesn’t know that Stallion is behind the one closest to him.
Stallion jumps up from the ground and then pops out right in front of the man. Stallion feels less afraid when he sees the looks of fear in the killer’s eyes, (he had just scared the piss out of him.) He shoves the man back, knocking him onto his ass as he runs past.
Once Stallion is back onto the street the ringing in his ears ceases and he has his balance again. He gets into the man’s truck and then slams the door. He sees the man getting up from the ground and looking back at him with that same frightened expression on his face. Stallion switches gears and then takes off in the killer’s truck. He doesn’t have to drive much farther up the street to reach Darla, who is rising up from where she was lying.
“Get in,” Stallion shouts out as he reaches across and opens the passenger side door for her.
“What the hell are you doing,” Darla shouts.
“Trying something different,” Stallion replies, “hurry up!”
Darla gets in and closes her door as Stallion steps on the gas again. He looks in the rearview mirror and sees the killer running in the middle of the street behind them.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Darla says, “and can you slow down please?”
Stallion eases his foot off of the gas and says, “I ran into Beaner. He’s changed a lot. He’s a killer, and he fucks dead people.” (Stallion sounds out of breath as he says this and Darla just stares at him in silence.) “Look back there,” he says after a violent cough, “see for yourself.”
Darla turns to look in the backseat, and in the next moment she shouts, “Oh, my God! Oh my God!”
“Yeah…” Stallion sighs, “I know.”
After a series of swears and then taking a moment to catch her breath Darla asks, “So what are we going to do now.”
“I’m going to try to drive to the end of this street with the hope that we can get out this time.”
“Okay…” Darla says. “Why do you think this will work?”
They see the street lights ahead and Stallion no longer sees the man running in his rearview mirror, he’s too far back. The sun is just starting to emerge from the horizon.
“I remember when we got trapped here. It all came back to me when I was talking with that sick kid...he actually looks like he may be about forty now… I have to make up for what I did wrong so long ago. This is my redemptive action, or some shit like that.”
“Redemptive action…” Darla repeats. “What if this doesn’t work? Your talking crazy Stallion…this is a dream, I tell you…This is my dream!”
“Well then, I’m guessing once this truck passes the threshold it will be empty. The truck will crash, I expect… We will wake up tomorrow morning in the same place we always end up in.”
“And…” Darla shakes her head, “and then what? I mean what about all this?! What about the body and the sicko who did this?”
Stallion feels like saying, ‘this is your dream, so why don’t “you” tell me’, but instead he says “I called the police. I think all this shit will be resolved soon, the cops are on their way.” He turns to Darla with an awkward smile of assurance.
They draw closer to the street lights and the sun is more than halfway surfaced from the horizon. Darla continues to stare at Stallion, thinking that he seems so different in these moments. He seems more awake. He seems alive. She turns to the sight of the approaching intersection and sees that the light has just turned green.
“Here we go,” Stallion whispers.
Darla reaches over and grabs his right hand. She then clears her throat and says, “I love you, you know.”
They drive under the green light with no traffic coming from any direction at the moment; the truck clears through the intersection in a matter of seconds. In a couple moments the vehicle veers off to the left, crossing over a few lanes and then crashing into a large wooden sign that says, “Point Defiance Park.”

“Here we go…" Stallion sighs as he views the fading stars above.