Excerpts and Ideas from Stories that I Never Finished

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So, I had a vision when I was sixteen:

It involved two potential lovers outside in very cold, frigid weather. I tried to make sense of it and connect some of the dots by assuming that they were spies (probably from opposing governments) in Siberia who meet there by chance. I don’t know yet if they will at first try to kill each other (as they are assigned to) but instead fall in love, then defect and run away together…Another scenario could be that they are both caught by the Siberian Special Forces and are bound up then left for dead in the snow, then fall in love and die together from hypothermia…This is what was going through my mind just moments prior to me writing my first story, which was quite different yet still a little similar from this, on the evening of April 10, 2003…
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Two forbidden lovers conversing:

I initially wrote this some time in 2008…

“Watch the sun as it moves across the sky: When the rooster crows, it is dawn. When you begin to sweat, it is mid-morning. When there are no shadows, it is noon. When the crows begin to call, it is sunset. When the crickets chirp, it is dusk. When the wolves howl, moon rise is nigh. When the gates to the property close, it is nighttime. I will try my hardest to meet up with you at each of those times.”

“The way you explained all that sounded so beautiful. It makes me want you all the more! My God, how I wish we could be together without having to sneak around.”

“And how I wish I could kiss your beautiful face in front of the whole world, but I don’t want you to lose your job. But I will kiss you just as passionately in the shadows…Our next meeting will be at noon.”
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Two Students Attending a Strict High School:

This possibly takes place in a dystopian society.

I had help from some peers (though they were of the opposite sex) when I was writing this in the late Spring of 2004.

One day during lunch a kind and noble boy, about seventeen, was walking around looking for a spot to sit when he noticed a beautiful girl, about fourteen, sitting by herself and shaking.

He walks up to her table and asks, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing dont worry about it,” She answers, but is in obvious distress.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks her.

“No, you can sit here if you want to.”

The boy sits next to her and they eat together.

Awkwardly but sweetly they stare into each others’ eyes, then begin to eat their lunches.

After they finish eating, the boy asks her, “What is bothering you? I know something is wrong and I wish I could help you.”

The girl breaks down and says, “My step dad would beat me and you if he knew we were talking.” She pauses then continues, “The school officials are keeping a close eye on me because my quietness arouses their suspicion.”

“Well you seem to be a very sweet girl and you do not deserve that kind of ill treatment. I’ll stand up for you if any school employee or anyone for that matter including your step dad if he tries to harm you.”

“Are you crazy” She asked him, “If you confront a school worker like that you will be humiliated, whipped, thrown in the dungeon and who know’s what else? If you confront my step dad, he’s likely to beat the daylights out of you then call the cops.”

The boy answered, “It would definitely be worth it for you.” Then he smiled and winked at her.

She smiled at him and blushed a little…
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Part of this came to me in a dream I had in the Autumn of 2006:

A young love stricken man named Gallen Blain was talking to his pilot Jim Donson and asked, “Have you ever shopped at the Goodness Department Store?”

Jim replied “Yeah I shop. I fly all around the country shopping for women.”

Gallen replied “Well there is a very beautiful young lady who works there, her name is Mandi Case.”

“Why limit yourself to just one?”

“Because I love her and only her! Don’t I catch enough hell about that from the other workers?”
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A conversation between a young industrial designer and his financial backer.  This was inspired by a dream I had in the Autumn of 2012  I penned about two years later:

“I know you have no formal training, but I hear you’re good. From what my grandson tells me you sure know tradesman tools.”

“Well, I certainly try my best, Mr. McCloud. I worked as a technician for 2 years, then I sold tradesman tools for another two years. I would like to think that I know what improvements need to be made.”

“That’s why I hired you.”

“And I promise to give you and your company my best designs.”

“Good. I expect nothing less.”

“Should I show you some of my ideas right now? I have been wanting them to be put into existence for years now. I just never had the manufacturing resources nor the financial backing.”

“Yes. Just give me a preview of what is to come.”

“All right. I feel, that my expertise as far as tradesman’s tools is concerned is the area of portable lighting. I have three revolutionary ideas for flashlights and I hope you will accept.”

“Go on.”

“Well, for starters, I have designed a line for electricians…”

“Good. Interesting, I have been looking to diversify my products and this may just be it.”

“There’s more.”

“Go on.”
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I penned this in 2012, but was inspired to write it from a dream I had in 2007:

Helen Williams was reprimanding Amelia Esterwood with anger, “People all over town are gossiping about how you and Cade Jennings were sitting in the diner, talking about aphrodisiacs. They are even saying that you and him mixed it in your drinks. Is this true?”

Cade Jennings stepped out from his eavesdropping and said, “What if it were true? I am so fed up with all this small town gossip. Why should she be punished because of something I convinced her to do. It was my idea to drink her potion.”

Helen adjusted her glasses and looked sternly at Cade, as she spoke, “So it’s you that did this? I would have thought much better of you, Cade. You come from a family of upright people and then you go and do this? I am very disappointed in you.” She paused and then spoke to Amelia “And you, if you want to work for me and have your affordable housing, you better stop this filthy behavior right now.” She then told Amelia, dismissively “Now get back to work. And Cade you mind your own business.”

Cade replied, “Tell all these other nosy small town people with nothing better to do, that they should do the same.”

“Why should they?” Helen asked with anger and continued, “If you are not doing anything wrong you should have nothing to hide.” Helen paused, then said “If anyone is doing something shameful, then he or she should and will be shunned. That way it will deter people from doing all things questionable.”

Cade who was now irritated once again said “Well what if everyone knew how you were illegally renting out rooms on your property? Don’t act like you’re so righteous.”

Helen grew very angry and agitated “Shut your mouth young man. Didn’t your parents teach you not to question your elders?”

Quick-witted, Cade replied “Well didn’t yours teach you that honesty is the right thing to do? The way you treat your workers is very dishonest!”

“How would you know how I treat my workers?” Ms. Helen asked with great irritation.

Cade replied, “It’s the talk of the town. Isn’t it something how you say that everyone should know if someone is doing something questionable.”
Helen was speechless.

Amelia smiled brightly at Cade.

Finally, Helen broke the silence and said “Cade, I am appalled by your disrespect, but I don’t have the time to argue with you. Your parents are going to hear about that mouth you have, rest assured.”

She looked at Amelia, then said “Come with me now, you have been standing here, not working all the time Cade and I were arguing. I am going to dock your pay.”

Amelia reluctantly followed from a slight distance, but turned around to look at Cade. She blew him a kiss and then silently said “I love you Cade.” He read her lips and then spoke silently “I love you too, Amelia.” He then blew her a kiss.
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Factors that made Me want to Write

This piece is written to analyze and pin point the factors in my life that made me decide to try and be a writer. Those who know me well know that there are several events that established my mind for being creative. However, no one knows all of them. I’m going to reveal the unknown factors that influenced me to be a writer, or at least the ones I feel comfortable enough to reveal.

I’ve mentioned publicly that “a combination of medication and lack thereof, dreams I had experienced in the previous months, different literary works I was studying in Freshman High School English and, of course, just being young” were the driving forces that caused me to begin writing.

I hope to go into better detail about these in this piece and open up my mind and heart to the general public.

Let’s go back to November of 2002. I was fifteen going on sixteen. It was a very turbulent time in my life. I didn’t get along with my parents. I was forced to take medications that were no good for me. I was a poorly performing student. However, I had and still have a wonderful sense of humor. I wish I put my humor on display more nowadays like I did back then. There are people who have gotten quite close to me, in recent years but never once saw my funny side. I regret not showing them. Anyway. Fellow classmates recognized my humor and while some truly appreciated it, while others mocked me for it. I liked getting laughs and being somewhat of a comedian, but never truly trusted anyone. I was told that by many that there was a female classmate, who was a few months younger than me, had a huge crush on me, but assumed this was just a cruel prank. She seemed to be way out of my league and not really my type anyway. Still, from time to time, I would think of her, a lot and even have romantic dreams about her. Come to think of it though, she always appreciated my humor. I’m not naming any names in here for everyone’s sake.

It was a partly sunny/partly dreary Saturday in November of 2002 when we learned that my maternal Grandma was in the hospital with a bladder infection. The hospital was Ochsner Main Campus in Old Jefferson, which is a suburb of New Orleans, yes there’s also, I think, another Old Jefferson, which is a suburb of Baton Rouge. We all came to visit her in the hospital. What I learned that day though, is that the whole New Orleans area, especially in the Autumn and Winter seasons is very inspiring and provoking not just to writing but all other forms of deep thought and art. I first realized this on that very Saturday. I still had no idea at the time that I was going to write a few months later. While visiting my Grandma in the hospital, I contracted some bug. That Monday, I was running a high fever, feeling debilitating chills and had a persistent cough. I had the mother of all respiratory infections and it caused me to miss a week of school. That next Monday was the beginning of Thanksgiving Break and I was still a little under the weather, but was eventually started recovering.

During that week, I had a dream about the aforementioned female classmate. In the dream, a hurricane was approaching our area and our high school was being used as a shelter. We were together in the dream at school, riding out the storm. At some point, I am bitten by a poisonous snake and had to be airlifted to a hospital in San Antonio, Texas. I wake up shortly after that, shocked and confused. This was a little less than three years prior to Katrina, by the way. I spent the whole day meditating on that dream. I do have recurring dreams of being bit by snakes, for whatever reason. I guess because I kill them every chance I get. I also wondered if this was some supernatural instruction to pursue this girl, though I never once did.

The following week school had resumed for the three week stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas break. Being a poorly performing student, I made my first F ever for the quarter in one of my classes. I was so ashamed of myself, that I had planned to run away from home. I planned on sneaking out of my bedroom window and going to New Orleans. I packed a bag and hid it under a coat and just planned the whole thing out. What stopped me was the over-sedating effects of my medications, I was dead asleep in my bed and in no condition to run away. A school counselor found out about my desire to run away and talked me out of it that morning. I was able to bring my grade up and pass for the semester and then passed the whole year. I never failed a class totally all throughout high school, Thank God.

A few days prior to Christmas I had received a scanner that could tune in what the police were saying on their radios. I felt so powerful and smug when I used this device, for obvious reasons. While listening to my new scanner that night, I learned of a girl, who was a little older than me having medical issues, a severe asthma attack if I remember correctly, and her parents wouldn’t get her help. I desired so much to help her but couldn’t do anything, because I wasn’t old enough to drive yet. That’s how I entertained myself, though for the longest time after that was listening to a police scanner. I still never once dreamed that I would become a writer.

On January 2, 2003, I made 16 and it was as if a mental change had taken place. This could have also been factored in with the medication I was taking.

In January and February of 2003, my sister had to go to Children’s Hospital in New Orleans and I would tag along, usually with my scanner. There was so much to listen to on there at the time that one could be entertained for, literally for days on end. Hurricane Katrina and cheaper cell phone plans had taken a huge bite out of scanner traffic in the New Orleans area. I also got to walk around Uptown New Orleans and was amazed at all of the beautiful, European-style architecture. It was definitely awe inspiring and provoked deep thought. I always hated going back home.

Also around this time, I had a dream that entailed a girl and I on the run in a city that was a futuristic version of New Orleans. I made it into a very short story, known as  “A Sorrowful February” a few days prior to writing this piece. That dream was probably the catalyst that would make me want to be a writer, though I still had no desire to write, even then.

Sometime in March of 2003, I was supposed to be doing volunteer work for Key Club, in Downtown Houma, but there was no one to direct me. Instead, I went for a walk through some of the old neighborhoods. The architecture of Downtown Houma, while nowhere near as grand as New Orleans is still very charming, I must say. To a slight degree, it reminded me of New Orleans. I even watched an old house being renovated. After I went home, it was the strangest thing. I logged onto the family computer and began looking at pictures of trains on the Huey Pierce Long Bridge. Aside from the fact that I had enjoyed trains as a young child and also recently learned that I could hear them on my scanner a month prior to this, my train interest had become dormant and would be until I was twenty-four going on twenty-five (2011), but that’s another story. I remember seeing one picture of a train going across the said bridge during an afternoon thunderstorm and was heavily inspired, though I had no interest to write.

Also in March of 2003, I became intoxicated for the first time on a bottle Jack Daniels I had stolen from my parents. There is a piece on my blog about that as well, known as “My First Time Drunk.”  Read it if you will.

In either late March or early April of 2003, I was taken off the medication. I really think I was put on it, to begin with as a punishment, from a cruel psychiatrist and fed up parents but no one will admit that.  I didn’t really need medication until I was seventeen and had several misdiagnoses prior to that.

There was a slight difference in me, being free of any and all chemicals which made me more lively. Also, my emotions were stronger and rounder. That medication may have influenced me some, but the lack thereof probably did as well.

On the evening of April 10, 2003, I made my first attempt at writing something. I was in bed with all sorts of emotions and vibes floating around in my mind and heart. It was the culmination of the previously “combination of medication and lack thereof, dreams I had experienced in the previous months, different literary works I was studying in Freshman High School English and, of course, just being young” coming alive that night. I wrote my first story of a teen couple massacred in a school shooting. I posted it on a secret webpage, for several reasons. A few days later, I remember telling the story to a couple of friends in PE class. Then, there was indeed a school shooting in Louisiana and the few people that realized I wrote about a school shooting just days prior, seemed to be in shock and awe, but soon brushed it off and forgot about it.

Right before Easter Break 2003, I had to do a composition for English class. The teacher was impressed by it that she wanted to know if I did this “for fun.” Word about my secret web page had gotten around the school and neighboring towns. She pulled up my personal page, not my secret page, Thank God, in front of the class. I could have easily been expelled, arrested or committed that day, had I linked that secret page to anything that identified me, for the simple fact that I wrote about a school shooting.

That’s as detailed as I wish to get at the moment on what made me want to become a writer. I hope this has been informative and entertaining.

A Sorrowful February

This came to me in a dream on a Sunday morning during the Mardi Gras season of 2003.  That dream was probably one of the driving forces behind what made me decide to start writing.  There were other factors that influenced my writing, but this probably was the catalyst.  Although I didn’t actually begin writing until that April.  I also plan to write an in depth essay on all of the factors that caused my mind to be creative.  Hopefully I’ll do this in the not-so-distant future.

Without further a do, here is the short story:

It was a brisk Saturday afternoon in February; there we were, two soul mates; young, in love and on the run. We lived under a Totalitarian government where corruption ran rampant. Despite the miserable life in our city, we found true love and happiness in each other. Hand in hand we walked the streets so much in love. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, despite all public displays of affection being strongly frowned upon by the cruel customs of our dystopian society. I could not stop touching her and she could not stop kissing me.  We were looking for a place to consummate our love and found an abandoned warehouse near the busy railroad yard.  We smashed a window, then climbed in. The interior was dark and damp, but our raging hormones overpowered and impaired our better judgement. We commenced our lovemaking with exceeding passions, then cuddled into the night under a discarded tarpaulin.  Blissfully, we slept in each others’ arms.  Under the light of a full moon, angry lawmen in S.W.A.T. gear stormed the building and arrested us. These hateful men also planted narcotics in our clothing-possession of which carried a penalty of death.  The horrible officers cuffed us and we were transported to the police headquarters building.  They housed us in separate cells.  Every time we tried to talk to each other, we were flogged with batons.  We learned that we were to be executed at dawn.  Deep anxiety filled our hearts and minds like never before.  At least we shared the joy of fully knowing each other and no one could take that away from us.  We were then ordered to be silent. Suddenly but, miraculously the building collapsed.  My lover was injured internally, but unbeknownst to her as a result.

When the dust settled, I found her trembling with fear, but overjoyed to see me.

“Take my hand, baby, ’cause we’re walking out of here,” I told her, assuredly.

She nodded, then hugged me with great strength and we headed out.
We began walking parallel to the train tracks, hoping to leave this wretched city once and for all.
Feeling victorious, we held each other closely and we walked into the early morning hours.

Suddenly, at dawn, my lover collapsed in the grass along the right of way. I tried to revive her but couldn’t. I listened for her heartbeat, but heard nothing.  She was dead. I stayed by her body weeping bitterly.
It was now sunrise and the train master saw us.  He offered me his phone to call her family.

I called them and then waited, filled with matchless sadness and unparalleled anguish.

In time, they arrived in a blue pickup and placed her body in the truck bed.  I laid next to her with great sorrow.

Days later, at her memorial service, I walked up to her open casket with a pistol in hand and blew my brains out.

Suddenly, I woke up, all alone in my bed. It was a dreary Sunday morning.
I walked to the family computer and began to write while listening to music.

Back to “Very Sad/Very Short Stories”

Eveready No. 1259-Part Two

Christmas break had ended and, for now, so had my part of the top-secret work-study. Now that I was back home I took advantage of the reliable Internet access and purchased several more Industrial Alkaline batteries and plenty of PR6 bulbs for my Eveready 1259. I also cleaned the tube and contacts. It was now working as if it were almost new . School had now started up again. The class for my first period was science. Co-incidentally, the subject was on the auto-ignition temperature of various materials and fluids. The material came as a breeze to me as I had already been exposed to it hands on during my work-study. After the notes were written down the teacher began to lecture.

“Auto ignition temperature is the minimum amount of heat required to cause a given combustible substance to ignite. Different materials have different temperatures and care must be taken when handling any one of them.” She paused and then said “Through extensive research, trial and error and even accidents; scientists and engineers have compiled data on plenty of these materials. Doing so allowed for their manufacturers, handlers and end-users to be able to know how hot is too hot. This vital data, when taken seriously, saves billions of dollars and, more importantly, countless lives.” She paused, then continued “Companies and workers that deal with these materials are required by law to use equipment that is positively known not to generate heat beyond the ignition point. This includes motors, lighting, switches and even hand tools. Virtually any machine, device or instrument that could generate any sort of spark must be heavily regulated. Any component that is to be used in an atmosphere where a potentially explosive material is present must not generate heat that meets or exceeds the auto ignition temperature of the given material. This takes some science and engineering to allow conformity, which we will cover some of this is the following lessons. Many students appeared to be bored. I, on the other hand, was listening. This pertained to my everyday work and would for years to come. I was already aware and well rounded in the material presented.

Feeling the desire to show off; I reached into my backpack and pulled out my flashlight then said

“Speaking of auto ignition temperatures, I have a flashlight here that is designed to work in areas where some of these potentially explosive are handled. It has special circuitry and low temperature bulbs that will stop it from igniting any of these gases or dusts.” I pointed my flashlight at the ceiling and continued talking “It is safe to use around potentially explosive materials just like we are learning about. It has been approved by the government as well as other authorities.” I paused then said “There is only one drawback and that is it is horribly dim, but it still gets the job done. The reason why it is dim is because the bulb used in it is weaker than most and therefore shines at a temperature low enough to not cause an explosion.”

The teacher switched the projector off and demanded “What do you think you are doing?”

I replied “I thought I would give an example to the class, you know, show them how this material is practical in the real world.” The class laughed.

“You talked out of turn and disrupted my class.” She paused then said “Furthermore you have an item that is not appropriate for school. Hand it over, now.”

“But…” I said

“But what?” The teacher asked

I replied “I need that for work. Plus, it is my favorite one.”

The teacher asked, sternly “For work, what do you do?”

“I work in and around fuel tanks.” I replied. The class laughed again.

“You are sixteen years old, it is illegal for you to work in that sort of job. I am going to report you employer-unless you are making it up.” She paused then asked “Who is your employer?”

“I am not allowed to disclose that information.” I replied.

“Then you are making it up.” She said, then continued “Hand over the flashlight and I am giving you two Saturday Schools.”

The teacher took my flashlight and the whole class laughed once more.

I cussed as I was angry beyond belief.

“That’s another Saturday School young man!” The teacher shouted sternly, the class laughed once more and then the bell rang.

I was angrier than I had been in a long time. That light had a history, whether I knew what it was or not, and that hateful teacher took it from me. I sat in the rest of my classes still angry but focused on getting a new one. Finally, came recess. I logged onto the computer and did a search for a replacement Eveready 1259. I found there was a supply house in my town that was selling it for $6.99. I paid much less for my first one, but this was brand new.

“Fair enough.” I reluctantly thought to myself.

The remainder of the school day dragged on, until, finally, the bell rang. I walked out of the classroom, changed my shirt, put my books in my locker, retrieved my cell phone, took my backpack and headed on foot to the supply house. It took me over an hour to get there, but finally, I arrived. I walked in and a middle aged man greeted me with a stern look.

“May I help you young man?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” I replied, then continued “I saw on your company website that you have an Eveready 1259 in stock. I walked here a good distance, so I hope you still have it.”

“Yes, we do.” He said and continued “But what exactly do you need it for?”

I fabricated a half lie and said “I had one as a hand me down but I was showing it off in science class and the teacher took it.”

The salesman asked “Why in the hell were you showing off a flashlight in class, especially one like that. If I were you I would have wanted a much brighter flashlight to show off.”

I replied “We were learning about the auto ignition temperatures of volatile materials and I wanted demonstrate my knowledge.”

The salesman laughed and said “Well it is $6.99 plus tax.”

“I’ll take it.” I replied.

“Okay, your total is going to be $7.58, do you still want it? ” The man asked.

“Of course I do.” I said handing him my debit card. He ran it through the computers and printed me out an invoice. I also signed the store’s copy. After he handed me my new flashlight; we sat and we shot the breeze. The hands on my watch indicated 6:00 or 18:00 in the secondary numbers. The man looked at his as well.

“Well, another day is done. You better get home kid, before it gets too cold.” The man said.

I simply nodded and called my parents on my cell phone to pick me up. I waited for them to arrive in the cold January weather, but the cold temperatures here were nothing compared to the cold temperatures I had experienced on the base.

Back to “A Teenage Student Worker and his Eveready No. 1259 Flashlight”

Eveready No. 1259-Part One

So there I was working at a military base in an undisclosed location that only my superiors knew the whereabouts. All I knew is that it was in the middle of a snowy plateau where below freezing temperatures were a daily occurrence. Though I was only sixteen; I was given the chance to help on a research project. Of course I jumped at the opportunity. I was allowed to be transported to this base and have all my expenses paid for living there. All I had to do in return was promise to spend all school vacation time working there and then join the company upon graduation. I eventually convinced my parents to sign me up. The firm I joined was trying to create a universal fuel that could power all combustion engines under all conditions. The project was top secret as its impact the world’s oil economy was unknown. On this particular afternoon; I was checking the pressure on the tanks by the light of my flashlight. The reason I needed a flashlight was that normal electrical lighting could have ignited this special blend of chemicals. Not only did I need a flashlight but an explosion proof flashlight. After checking the pressure on the fuel tanks; I began to analyze the chemical composition of the fuel. In the midst of doing so, the bulb in my flashlight began to flicker. I also noticed that the O-Rings had become eccentric. I refuse to disclose the brand of this flashlight as this was the only defective model of their’s I have come across. Regardless; I knew these defects could trigger an explosion which would result in the loss of lives and years of research. Quickly, I rushed out of the fuel bunker. Upon exiting; I walked to the supply room and presented my damaged light to the clerk. Pulling out my company issued bank card I asked her

“Do you have any replacements?”

The woman replied in a cut-and-dry voice. “The weather has been treacherous for the past few days and our supplies are cut off.” She paused and then continued “I don’t have that particular model here anymore. We have other models, but they are used and beat up.”

I asked “Are they still safety approved?”

She nodded then said sharply “Of course they are, what do you think? We just conducted inventory and they have all been inspected.”

She walked to the back. I could hear her moving boxes around and complaining. Finally she walked out. She handed me an orange flashlight with a black switch and black ends. I examined it and noticed it was full of dents and oil stains. Eveready No. 1259 was painted in black on the side. It also had the safety information and approvals stamped into the injection molding on the back.

I wondered to myself who could have used this light before it was issued to me, so I asked the clerk “Do you know any history of who used this light?”

She replied “Kid, what do you think I am, a librarian?”

“Jeez, sorry lady, I was just being curious.” I replied, then asked her “I need as many PR6 bulbs as you have.”

She stared at me sternly and then said “Look kid, our supplies are extremely limited. You’re not the only on who needs bulbs for your flashlight. I will give you four bulbs and you better make them last.”

“I also need some Industrial Alkaline batteries, D size.”

She grew even more irritated and said “Get it through you head kid, our supplies are limited. All of the Alkaline batteries have been sold. I only have Carbon Zinc batteries, take ’em or leave ‘m.”

“I guess I’ll have to take them, but I question their performance in the cold.”

She handed me the batteries and bulbs in addition to my flashlight.

I began to walk out when she said “You still have to pay for them. I’m not your momma.”

“You can say that again.” I replied then swiped my card.

She replied, angrily “Watch your attitude or I will report you the the superiors.”

I then left the supply room. It was beginning to get dark. I check the time on my watch, the hands indicated 3:49, 15:49 if I looked at the secondary numbers.” Hurriedly; I wrote down all the information for my reports on the chemicals and then turned them in. Being a minor, I was only allowed to work a certain amount of hours. After swiping my card at the time clock, I headed to my living space. Upon walking in; I pulled out my laptop, logged on and plugged it into the Ethernet jack near my bed. I wanted to do some research on the flashlight I just purchased. When I started the browser; there was an error message that stated the page could not be displayed. I cussed and then went for a walk.

When I found my friend and fellow student-worker; I asked him “Is the Internet connection was working?”

He replied “No, it isn’t. I haven’t been able to connect all day. It is really hindering our research. He pointed at the giant satellite antenna in the middle of the complex and said “The snow is falling so heavily and is collecting on the parabola of the dish. Because of that, it is blocking any signals from passing through.” I cussed again and walked over to the building on which the antenna was situated on. I swiped my card and walked in. The first floor housed the motor for turning and pointing the dish to the appropriate transponders. I walked to the second floor which housed the server mainframe. It was turned on, but indicated that there was no available connection. I cussed again, then walked out of the building, activated the lock code and then walked back to my living quarters, where I caught up on some reading. Soon it was time to eat and I sat by my friend. I pulled my flashlight from my pocket and showed it to him.

He examined it and said “It looks like it had some use.”

“Yes.” I replied, then continued “The lady in the supply room sold it to me. She sure was crabby today, more than usual.”

“So how are things in the tank and valve maintenance?” He asked.

“Interesting.” I replied, then continued “I plan to test all the instruments tomorrow and then calibrate them if need be. They are showing that the fuel is chemically stable as of now, but that is why I am testing the instruments for accuracy. I don’t want to get my hopes or the hopes of the whole firm too high just yet.” I then asked “How are things in R&D?”

He replied “They have me doing the mathematical calculations for the chemical formulas. It’s just to make sure everything can be proven to be scientifically true. It’s quite tedious and redundant, but I am used to it.” He paused and then said “We are on the brink of a breakthrough.” We chatted during the course of dinner and until it was pitch black outside with the exception of the glow from various windows in buildings. With nothing else to do; I went to bed.

Back to “A Teenage Student Worker and his Eveready No. 1259 Flashlight”

Leaving Her Behind…Came to Me in a Dream I had in 2006

War has broke out worldwide and being an able bodied nineteen year old, I have been drafted. I stand on the curb waiting for the bus to take me to the basic training camp, but there she is, standing beneath the glow of the streetlamp.

The bus is approaching and my best friend and fellow draftee is urging me to get ready, but I can’t stop looking at her.

I approach her and she runs up to me. She jumps into my arms and I lift her up. She wraps her legs around me. We share a kiss. She feels so wonderful in my arms. The driver sounds his horn.

My best friend shouts, “Forget about her and get on the bus. We need to fight in Vietnam like my dad did many years ago.”

I let her down gently and her eyes swell with tears as we kiss once more.

The bus driver announces over the PA, “Board now or you will be court martialled.”

“Get on the bus [blank] damnit.” My best friend yells.

Suddenly, I wake up.

It was all a dream.

I collect myself.

Thoughts are racing through my head.

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Dreams and Visions of Unconventional Warfare Occurring on American Soil-WARNING Very Controversial…

Throughout my childhood, teens and even into my adult years, I have frequently had dreams about non conventional warfare tactics being used against American citizens on American soil.

In this piece I will attempt to recall the most prominent dreams that stand out in my memory.

They almost always deal with life going on in the immediate aftermath of the attack along with myself and my family attempting to survive the horrendous effects of war.

I am sometimes a technically minded person and understanding some of these dreams will require a decent amount of technical knowlege in electronics and mechanics.

The earliest dream pertaining to this subject that I had was back in 1995 when I was only 8 years old. I didn’t fully understand the meaning of this dream until years later and now it seems to make clear sense to me. It starts off with me being a child and standing in my parents’ front yard. I am standing in waist deep snow. Now in South Louisiana, it rarely snows and when it does snow, it doesn’t even cover the ground halfway. But the reason why it does make sense is because whoever our enemy was used an unconventional tactic of warefare on us. I didn’t understand it at age 8 because I knew nothing of weather modification. Fast forward a few years and I am now lightly acquainted with the said subject. Snowfall knee deep in South Louisiana would have exponentially dire consequences. The people aren’t used to it inasmuch as they don’t know how to handle vehicles in such conditions and they cannot comfortably cope with the frigid temperatures required to have waist deep snow. This would result in a plethora of traffic accidents and cut off links between civilians and first responders. The infrastructure can’t handle it, hence all wireline utilities would be severed and water pipes would burst. It would ruin all crops that are grown here, since we normally have a hot climate nearly year round. People would be sick and starving. Civil disorder and unrest would eventually set in and soon it would be every family for themselves. Now some governments have agreed to not engage in weather modification, but not all. I don’t know how much tactical or strategic ability is possible with weather modification as of now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some entities out there planning to use nature as a weapon. However in the dream, the people were resilient and were building vehicles that could navigate through the deep snow and be powered by natural gas (the one utility that was still available.) In the visions of this dream I saw pipes being connected to the central heating system in my parents house and hooked on the other end to these deep snow capable vehicles to fuel them. All of my family was there and we worked together, but I woke up before I could know whether things ever got back to normal…

The next dream I had was in the summer of 2002. I was standing in my parents’ back yard holding a multiband radio transceiver. Some sort of radioactive bomb had gone off miles away and while we weren’t hurt by the blast, our electronics had perished. Well all except for this radio I was using. It either had vacuum tubes or very robust transistors which protected it from the EMP. I didn’t understand the mapping of the radio spectrum at the time, but it’s amazing what frequencies this radio was capable of tuning in: 150 KHz, 15 MHz and 150 MHz. Each of these frequencies (and the ones adjacent to them) are critically important: 150 KHz is used in most of the world outside the US for trans and intercontinental broadcasting. It is a secondary AM broadcast band known as Long Wave. The exact frequencies range from 145 KHz to 285 KHz. Domestic AM broadcasting in the US (excluding World Band AKA Short Wave) takes place on the Medium Wave band from 525 KHz to 1710 KHz. For years in the United States there were several services on the Long Wave band used as a backup in the case of a nuclear raid. One service I recall is the US Air Force Ground Wave Emergency Network. There were also plans to use this as a medium for the government to keep in touch with its people when all other communications had failed. Long Wave frequencies are also used by various governments to keep in touch with submarine naval forces as they travel through water inteligibly. I didn’t know what Long Wave was until that following December when I had bought a multiband receiver. I also didn’t know anything about EMP blasts until my mid 20s. Moving on, 15 MHz is one of the frequencies for the time signal used by the U. S. Government. I don’t know exactly why I would have wanted to tune it in except to see if it was still running. 150 MHz and adjacent frequencies are very critical for entities in both the public and private sectors. However, I question the readiness of any modern radio on these frequencies after an EMP attack. In the dream though, this was the frequency I was attempting to contact others on. The transceiver had a long steel antenna and appeared to be a vintage, maybe 1950s-1970s crystal controlled model.

In the Spring of 2012 I had a brief vision. It was nighttime and I was outside on my paternal grandfather’s property. There had just been an EMP beamed at us shortly before. All of the electronics were rendered useless. This included all LED flashlights. However, in the dream or vision my grandfather is sowing crops at night by the light of his 1985 Garrity 2 D flashlight. For the record it was an incandescent model. He came up to me and said “Ay!” That’s how he greets people sometimes. He would have been 88 in 2012, but in this dream he appeared to be over 100. My grandfather remarked on how his old flashlight is the only one still working. This dream was truly a wake up call for me and should be to any flashlight user. LED flashlight are great, don’t get me wrong. They’re bright. They’re efficient. They last longer on batteries. And they’re even more rugged. However they lack an extremely important feature-most if not all of them will fail in an EMP blast. Because of the transistors and chips in their circuitry, they are can be damaged by high amounts of radiation. BUT the cheaper incandescent flashlights will still work provided all the mechanics, batteries and bulbs are still in working order. I do have LED flashlights that I carry, but rest assured I also carry incandescent models for this very reason. I would urge everyone to stock up on simple incandescent flashlights that use PR based bulbs while you still can. I also want to urge everyone to stock up on as many PR bulbs as possible. Bi pin bulbs are also a good idea provided you have a model of flashlight that requires them. They will provide critical light when needed and could also make a barter item for food, medication, fuel and weapons. Unfortunately I only see myself taking heed to this warning. If you decide to keep using LED flashlights, keep your stash in a well built faraday cage. A discarded but still in tact microwave oven might do the trick nicely. BUT I cannot guarantee it will always protect sensitive circuitry. Also there could be multiple blasts, so while your flashlights were safe in their cage during the initial blast, there might be following blasts that take place when your lights are in use. Incandescent is the way to go in my opinion. Why isn’t anyone in the prepper community advising this?

The final dream I am going to mention has been a recurring one in both 2015 and 2016. There is a global conflict going on and somehow a teenage couple manages to get a hold of some electronic warfare equipment. They implement it secretly cause all planes in the air to crash along with all sailing ships to become stranded. No one knows it was them who did it and they have huge smirks on their faces. Soon they begin to feel great remorse and they are eventually brought to justice just as I wake up. This current post millenial generation, I hate to say it, is a bunch of spoiled brats. They tend to be quite self serving, inconsiderate and vengeful. I also notice that they are always glued to some form of electronic device. If an EMP were to happen, they would all be in for a rude awakening. All of their entertainment and communications would be shot. They would all throw a huge tantrum and there would be murder, rape, drug use and theft like the world has never seen before. I could definitely see some young people who are angry at the adults for starting this global war that took away all their pleasures wanting to get revenge on an epic scale. I think that this final dream was a warning of how cruel this upcoming generation will be in a few short years and the catastrophic damage they will cause if God Himself doesn’t intervene on behalf of humanity. I know, however that some things must happen according to God’s plan…

By the way I still don’t believe myself to be a prophet. This is just an educated guess mixed with a powerful imagination…

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