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(STBSS) Lessons learned by Shadow Watcher

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posted on Jul, 15 2005 @ 10:46 PM
She woke up, or so she thought. Her mind was cloudy and she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong, very wrong. Where was she, why was her mind so numb? It occurred to her that her sadness was overwhelming. “Why am I so sad?” She asked herself. “Because, you were wrong.” “Whose voice was that?” She wondered. It sounded like her own, but she didn’t say it. “You were so wrong” said the voice. For the moment she stopped thinking about where she was. “Who was the voice?” “Why was I so wrong?” “I am not speaking out loud, so who is in my head?” “I am here to keep you company. Did you know she’s not breathing?” said the voice. “Hello?” “Who is not breathing? Who are you?” The voice spoke softly, almost sadly, “She killed herself tonight.” “Whoa, where am I? What have you done to me?” she demanded. The voice whispers, “I have done nothing. I am here to keep you from being lonely.”

“Are you saying that I killed myself?” “Yes.” “I couldn’t have done that.” She said. “Then why are we here in the dark?” The voice persisted. “If I’m dead, are you an angel?” “No, I am your mind. I will be here for a little while longer.” She feels dizzy, almost sick as she slowly remembers the pills. She realizes that tonight she couldn’t take any more. The alcohol and the pills made her sleep. She now knows that she crossed the line. She may have gone too far. She cannot believe that it is too late though. She says, “I must be dreaming. Hello? Are you still there, is this all that’s left?” The voice didn’t answer this time. “Oh my God, is this for real? I need to wake up! Please don’t leave me here alone.”

She understands now that she is dead. A sudden terror fills her being. “What will become of me? Where am I? What am I? Where is my God?” Alone in the dark she feels around. She doesn’t know if she is indoors or outdoors. She feels that she is not alone. She drops to the ground and cries. She feels a coldness brush against her cheek. She flails her arms to push away whatever it was. Again, she was approached, this time it was around her body. A cold, small claw-like hand yanked at her clothing, pulling her off balance. Whatever it was, it let out a chilling scream in her ear as it clawed at her. She panicked again. Off in the distance, she heard moaning, crying, desperate pleas and evil laughter. She called out for help. Off in the distance a voice mimics her pleas in a mocking sort of way. A painful slap to her face sent her falling backwards, the pain was more intense than anything in her normal life.

“Am I in hell? Is this the punishment for killing yourself?” She cried out loud. Still in the dark, she got to her feet. She tried so hard to see who or what it was that was with her, but to no avail. The ground was cold and damp under her bare feet. She wanted to see anything but her face stinging from where she was struck and the lack of light made that impossible. The voices called to her, some telling her that all is hopeless, while others still just repeated her words back to her. Why has her mind’s voice left her behind? If only she would come back, just for a while. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts on any one thing, she would become distracted by another voice. If there were a hell, it certainly would appear like this. The insanity here is so terrifying that rational thought is nonexistent. The fear is primal, the sorrow is beyond measure. She wanted to run away and hide, but there was no where to run in all this blackness. Something caught her attention. It was an awareness of an odor. The odor was the moist smell of death and decay. It affected her in a strange way. It gave her a jolt of sanity, a moment of clarity. This smell was strong enough to trigger a memory, a cemetery, at night. She briefly thought in a desperate moment that maybe the dark was just night and she was in a graveyard. Maybe she is sick, maybe she is dying outside alone. “Where is my voice that gave me comfort? Why won’t she give me some hope? If there is any hope, I need to find it.”

With the small comfort in hope, she decided to try and figure out where she was. Blindly she started walking. The ground was still cold and wet, but there were what felt like grave stones in front of her. She still could not see anything, but she knew the shapes and yes they were definitely head stones. Why it was so dark? Where was the moon and stars? “Have I been struck blind?” She asks herself. She at least knew where she was. Her fear was still gnawing at her. It is as if her fear fed the monsters in the dark. It was at this moment that she fell into an open grave.

She was paralyzed with fear. The pain shot up her body as she hit the bottom. The voices that mocked her grew closer. Climbing out of the pit at this moment was not an option. Those voices, those monsters are already here. She shrunk down into the deepest corner of the grave. The voices were saying the most vulgar things she has ever heard. She knew if she attempted to leave, or even stand, they would hurt her again. There she stayed in the decay and the mud. She felt like a trapped animal, a beaten animal. She let her fears win and the monsters came.

The first thing she felt was all the air being sucked out of the pit. There was an increasing pressure in her lungs. Then it got really cold. Not just cold around her, but cold within. It was as if evil itself passed through her body. Her reading of the paranormal could never match the reality of this moment. The screams that were so near are now in the grave with her. The voices were so deafening, that she could no longer hear herself cry. The clawing and tearing at her clothes and flesh were coming from every direction. She could feel herself bleeding from every cut that swiped at her. Dirt from above was choking in her throat. She needed salvation. She needed her god. In her mind God could not exist if there was such a place as this.

It was at this particular moment she heard a sound. The sound was just above the horrid screams. It was faint and delicate, but it was strong enough to be heard. She prayed for it to be real. “Please God, if this is your doing, I am so ashamed of what I have done. I need you to help me. Please help me from this awful place.” The sound was becoming clearer. “Music!” She exclaimed. “I am hearing music. This music was not heard by her ears so much as it was felt in her soul. It was familiar, but not in this life time. It was a call to come home. Yes, it was a beacon calling to her. The screams melted away, the brutality stopped. She was awash in beauty at that moment. She prayed harder for the music to envelop her and bring her home. The music was so ethereal, it was almost like a violin combined with a deep male choir. The music was not human, it was the sound of souls praying for her. She has been found at last. She drifted off to the sleep of the dead knowing all was going to be ok.

She awoke, this time she was in a bed. She was in an infirmary of some sort. She was weak and sickly. She wanted to sit up, but even the simplest of movement was too much for her. She drifted off again remembering the sounds of the music. Some time later she awoke to an attendant who was wiping her forehead. She asked were she was. The attendant said, “You are in the hospital. You have been away for so long, we feared you would be lost for a long time. ““What do you mean lost?” She asked him. “Well we knew where you were, but you could not hear us. We have been calling you for so long, tirelessly, we prayed for you to hear.” She wanted to know more, but the attendants told her to rest and allow the healing to finish. He explained that there was considerable damage done to her soul. This was the last she heard before drifting off again.

She felt great now. She wanted some company and she had so many questions. A man came to her and looked so happy to see her sitting up. She never met him before, but she recognized him somehow. “Do I know you? Yes and no the man answered. I am sorry to sound cryptic, but your memories are mixed and I don’t think you would understand yet.” She indeed was confused, not by what he said, but by her feelings towards him. She felt this immense peace and joy to be around him. She loves him, but how can this be? “It is good to see you again my dear. You need to see our garden when you are well enough.” Our garden? She thought. Why does that make me feel happy? “In time you will remember and the garden will be ready.” She knew him. She knew his smile, she remembered that the garden was their place. She got out of bed and went to a mirror. She looked rough, but at the same time radiant. There were dark areas on her body that looked as though they were hovering. She touched one and her hand passed through it. The man came up behind her and gently spoke. “You did some damage to your soul, the darkness is residual of that damage. “Where was I? You were in a dark and desolate place, a place that you wanted to be in.” She was shocked by those words. She could not possibly want to be there. “you must be mistaken, I tried so hard to escape that hell.” He smiled knowingly and motioned her to sit down. You lived a depressed life. You were so deep in sorrow, that you could not see the help offered to you. That night you died, you were so disheartened that you died thinking you were worthless and a failure. You let your fears drag you to that spot where you first awoke. You were so self absorbed with your fear, that you actually called the dark lower spirits to you. We all exist as energy, your energy was so negative that like a magnet, you attracted them. You allowed them to feed off of you until you were almost completely lost to us.” “Why did you wait so long to rescue me?” she asked. “We were with you the entire time. I was holding your hand, but you refused to see our energy. It wasn’t until you prayed for help that we could get through to you. Your hell was self imposed. You wanted to remain within your fears until you realized that you were worthy of love and wanted to be saved.” She listened to his every word and understood. “That music was our prayers to you. You came home to us and we began the healing prayers to help you. When you died your soul came straight here. You were in a coma like state. We never left your side. You were gone for almost a year.” The man said.

They walked outside, the air was sweeter than she ever knew before. They walked a path that took them around a meadow. While they walked, the man told her about vibrations and frequencies. He explained how our energy perceives reality by frequency. When a soul’s energy vibrates slow it can distinguish the lower realms. This can be done to communicate with souls that are immature and confused. With each life lived, the frequency increases thus a new realm opens up to the soul. Lessons and education that were chosen before birth became the life’s goal. If that goal has been achived by death, the next realm is open to the soul upon returning here. If the lesson was missed, the soul can return to the next life and try again, or it can tend to another goal. Either way the choice is up to the student. Even in a case such as this. The life lesson was to experience loss and to learn coping skills in order to move on to the next realm. Your suicide was a means to that end. The cruelty of a lonely life allowed you to know this lesson. As soon as you are fully healed, and your memories between life and the after life are sorted, you will be free to resume your studies here.

They stopped walking in a clearing. There was a house with a garden in the front; he motioned her to the walkway. The garden was more lush than any rainforest. The flowers were of the deepest colors and the sweetest smelling. The sight and smelled was enough for her now. She smiled at the man and said “yes, I am home now my dear sweet Jacob.” He beamed at her and replied, “Welcome back Rebecca.”

Inspired by a dream I had while listening to music.
Shadow Watcher 15-7-2005

[edit on 7-17-2005 by worldwatcher]

posted on Jul, 16 2005 @ 01:01 AM
This is really a great story shadow watcher. It looks like you might have just written what you had instead of trying to pretty it up, and it paid off. Maybe you should toss it into the contest. I know it hasn't got the summer-time theme, but actually several of the enteries, including one of mine, only have it as a peripheral thing, so the judges might overlook it.
Keep it up!
(And I would kill to have such vivid dreams!)

posted on Jul, 16 2005 @ 04:57 AM
The Surrealist
There isn't any real writer status unless you want to make one, you could call your self a writer off of that, set in a deathly place and yet you put so much life into it.

So if you believe in alternate lives and next lives maybe this came from the sub- conscience of a past life. It's a lot to write down from a dream. You must love dreaming, it's a way apart from this reality, but knowing that we are not really here also helps me to think why I'm not understanding why I cant put my hand into a wall.

It doesn't matter what age you are, body and mind/soul are two opposite designs, and I will portray you by your mind and not your age or how you look, because you truly have a vivid mind, I enjoyed the frightful adrenaline of your story. Write more or die a slow and very detailed death. =)

posted on Jul, 16 2005 @ 06:02 PM
I just thought I'd add something sort of interesting.
I actually had a dream based on this story last night. Lucky for me I guess, I skipped the dark part.

posted on Jul, 16 2005 @ 09:07 PM
your feedback really means a lot to me. Thanks
I have a small book near the bed for capturing stuff like this. Perhaps I will revisit some old dreams and record them. I appreciate the encouragement, it was the reason I had considered sharing it.

posted on Jul, 17 2005 @ 10:24 AM
ooops! I forgot to add the (STBSS) in the title. aaargh! can someone help me?

posted on Jul, 17 2005 @ 03:04 PM
Nevermind- I answered a question that had already been answered

[edit on 17-7-2005 by The Vagabond]

posted on Jul, 30 2005 @ 11:51 PM

[edit on 30/7/05 by The Surrealist]

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