(IWWC)Epiphany Squared

Part one: Little Laura

Little Laura Gathered up her figurines and placed them carefully back in their box. One by one she locked them back into their little holders that kept them spaced neatly. After fastening the tiny men in armor in their proper places she closed the lid and fastened it methodically. This was a part of her daily ritual but today it just seemed more urgent. She had something to do and it was something she had been waiting for.

She strode past her mother and out into the backyard. She didn’t hear what her mother had just said. She seldom did. To Laura all that noise and pulling her this way and that way only upset her anyway. This kind of thing was an annoyance because it took her away from all the others. It was a distraction. She had something to do now, and it was important.

She knelt on the ground and placed her case with all the figurines inside of it on the bench in front of her. Laura could hardly wait to begin but she knew this must be done correctly. She quickly reached an arm out and knocked the magic eight ball off the bench. It didn’t belong here. It was so plain and had no meaning to her.

Her mother stood by the door watching with concern. She glanced at her watch and realized it was that time of day again. Soon Laura would begin positioning her men in armor with painstaking precision in a little circle. “How can I reach her?”, she thought to herself. “Lord knows I’ve tried.” she said out loud this time if only to hear her own voice. She often wondered if all this seemingly strange behavior was a way of trying to communicate with her. Her mother gave up trying to decipher the odd arrangements that Laura created a long time ago.

Laura’s mother noticed she was different early on. Specialist after specialist could offer no help beyond a prescription slip for rydelin. She tried that for a while but Laura became so sad when she was forced to take any medicine. She couldn’t put her through that anymore. “No more medicine baby girl. You work this thing out because mommy loves you.” she whispered tearfully.

Laura could feel that cloud of warmth begin to envelope her as she placed the first figurine where it belonged on the bench. It was kind of like all the other times but this time it was stronger. It was more inviting. There were more now. She placed the second figure and was greeted with a wave of acceptance and love that seemed to make her swoon. She placed the next man in armor precisely where it needed to be and she began to feel purpose in the warmth that exploded throughout her mind and body.

Laura’s mother watched in fascination. Her baby girl was doing something different! The figurines were being placed in a figure eight. This was significant because her baby girl only made circles out those toys and heaven help you if tried to correct anything. She watched Laura place the next figurine and it almost seemed to her that the backyard was becoming brighter. She stepped out onto the lawn and walked slowly toward her special little girl.

Laura placed the last figurine and was welcomed fully into the source of warmth and acceptance that was thousands of times greater then anything she had experienced before. This was her purpose. To be here with everyone else that she could talk with. Not like you and I talk. They talked without saying a word. They knew eachother and it was great. In her mind she was floating and playing with children and adults that she knew perfectly well. She had no idea how she knew them but she just knew that she did. She didn’t know any names or anything but that didn’t matter. They knew each other and it was wonderful! They were all swimming in brilliant and warm colored lights.

Laura’s mother was sure now. The yard was brighter and it seemed to be emanating from Laura. She walked carefully and slowly as she watched her baby sitting perfectly still in front of her arrangement. Laura was smiling. Her eyes were closed. Her mother took a careful position to the side of her daughter and knelt down to examine her closer. “What is that?” she wondered. She smelled something beautiful. She turned slightly to see the source of the sweet aroma and was amazed to see the bulbs she had just planted the day before blossoming before her eyes. Something else caught her eye. It was a magic eight ball they had given to Laura on one of her birthdays. It was lying beside the bench on the ground. The lens that one is supposed to look through was facing her. The little placard inside the lens was spinning furiously. She turned back to her daughter. “Laura, you must come in baby something is wrong.” She said. “Laura, mommy is getting a little scared now. Are you ok?” she said. With no response she quickly turned to look at the menacing eight ball in hopes that she had been seeing things. The placard in the lens was still. It read, “Better not tell you now.”

Laura was happier then she had ever been. She couldn’t get enough of this experience. She felt so unrestricted and free. She knew this was what she had always been waiting for. Although she could feel that there was something they had to do. Whatever it was it was important to take care of. What was that feeling that imposed on them all? They wanted to expand. They wanted to go further. That was it. Laura could see the problem. It was darkness and it felt bad. Way out toward the end of the brightly colored lights was a dark area that kept them contained. Everyone in the swirling lights began feeling sadness and just as suddenly they felt determination. They all began to concentrate on expanding their territory. There were parts of themselves out there. They had to reach them.

Laura’s mother had seen enough. Something was wrong and her baby girl was going inside. “Come on honey. We can play inside for a while.”, she said as she stooped down in back of her daughter to pick her up from under her arms. Suddenly she felt sick. She tried to stand back up but could not. It just seemed that everything inside of her stopped at once. “Are you ok baby?” she said finally and collapsed. She hadn’t noticed the magic eight ball’s message when it changed this time. It read, “As I see it, yes.”

Part two: Jed an Toby

Jed had just about enough of this nonsense. If this half wit son of his wouldn’t move then he’d move him. “You aint been nothin but trouble for me boy!” Jed declared as he raised his Coors can to his lips and chugged the rest of his fifth beer of the afternoon. “I ask you to do one simple thing, and what do you do?” Jed questioned at the top of his voice. “You go ahead and make some stupid play house or something!” Jed barked. He was visibly upset and getting angrier. “I told you how many times to stop doing that?!” he yelled.

The firewood that Toby was supposed to get had been stacked lengthwise. End to end and curving around to make a figure eight. One was stacked on top of the other, at least chest high to Toby who was about five feet tall now. Toby tried to stop making things and pay attention to his dad, but today he just couldn’t. Today was different somehow and he had to express himself in the only way he knew how. So he began stacking the split firewood the way it belonged. The way it had to go. With each piece he stacked correctly, he could feel himself drawing closer to everyone else. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. When he had finished he was awash in multi colored lights and warmth. Everyone he knew was here. He didn’t know how he knew them and he didn’t care. He knew them and they knew him and they all loved each other. Everything would be fine here.

Jed went to the tool shed in a half sprint. He would deal with this stupidity. What was it his half baked mother called him? A dingo or something like that he remembered. Yeah, that was it, a dingo. He had taken care of his nagging mother some time ago and now it was time to take care of that dingo that she had spawned. He reached under the grease stained work table and felt around until his hand happened upon the solid form of the pistol grip. He pulled it out hurriedly and opened the chamber. It was fully loaded just like he left it. “You won’t mind me boy?! Then I got something for you!” Jed yelled as he half ran from the shed with his revolver in his hand.

Toby was delighted. He never knew that this much love even existed. He knew something big was coming, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. Something had to be done quickly though. It was pressing. He could see bars of darkness trying to reach him. Through the warmth and light an ominous barrage of dark bars kept appearing. All the others saw it too. They concentrated and expanded toward the source of darkness.

Jed stood three feet from Toby now. His arm stretched out holding his thirty eight revolver level with Toby’s temple. “Is that a smile on his ungrateful face?” Jed thought. “This dingo is smiling.” he half chuckled demonically. “You think this is funny dingo?!” he shouted at his son’s ear. “You think it’s funny to make a fool of me?! You could join your worthless mother now you stupid dingo!” he yelled. Toby stood perfectly still. He maintained a slight smile. Jed could sense that it seemed brighter now by the dingo. He dismissed this and attributed the light to his beloved beers.

The hammer on the revolver fell. There was no report. Just a click. Jed looked at the revolver and tried again. The chamber advanced and the hammer fell. No report. Just a click. “Aint you the lucky dingo?” Jed said calmly as he shook the ammunition into his hand. He pried the lead from the casing on one of the bullets to see the condition of the powder inside. He carefully tipped the casing over as sand poured into his opposite palm.
“You been playing in my shed haven’t you dingo?” Jed asked. Toby didn’t answer. He was perfectly still and smiling. Jed was furious now.

Jed threw the remaining ammunition into the dirt. Jed wasn’t observant enough to see the new blades of grass that were springing up around his worthless bullets. He tucked the empty revolver into his waist band. “You wait right here dingo. I’ll show you a thing or two.” he ordered Toby as he walked back toward the shed. That dingo was going to get it and get it good. He could see the axe leaning against the open door. That dingo really got him mad now. Jed stopped in his tracks. He could feel something going on inside his chest.

Toby and everyone else had pierced the source of some of the darkness now. They could see particles of energy and matter swirling everywhere. They could even see the energy holding it all together. This thing must be shut down and they all knew it. They concentrated on bringing everything to a halt.

Jed clutched his chest and gasped for air. “You stupid dingo! Help me!” Jed cried. He collapsed like a marionette that had been cut from its strings. “Stupid dingo.” he exhaled for the last time. All was silent.

Laura and Toby were no longer Laura and Toby. They were one along with all the others now. They were no longer individuals. They were strong and they were getting stronger with every minute. The collective now pushed ever onward toward its expansion. They had purpose and that much was for sure.

Part three: Sword of Damocles

The collective gained much ground in the weeks and months beyond the day it began. People watched in horror as satellites burned in the atmosphere above them. In the early days of their revolution, when the electricity still worked, the news reported that all the country’s nuclear assets were rendered useless. The cores on all the reactors and weapons had turned to lead. There was no trace of radiation. All the experts argued that it was the little known Indigo revolution that was predicted by some people to be coming. This was the case around the world. Soon after this phenomenon conventional weapons no longer worked. Propellants and explosives had turned to sand. Everyone had been warned not to approach the Indigos. They meant the people who seemed to be motionless and smiling like statues with their own personal gardens growing around them. The body count was unimaginable.

I learned to survive by watching. I watched in morbid fascination as group after group of angry people marched toward what they believed was the source of unrest. A lone Indigo man who stood by a newspaper vending machine with a pile of little stones arranged in a figure eight on top of it. Flowers and vines crept up through the asphalt and concrete and made it look like a shrine of sorts. Complete with a heavenly glow that was perceptible even in the daylight. Whole groups would collapse. Soon though, there was silence all around.

I remember coming across a few survivors like myself. We had hugged and exchanged stories of horror. We all knew not to approach those people who started the revolution. As we learned to work together and form friendships we cleared bodies and set up a perimeter. We began to work on a plan to take back control. I hadn’t counted on the Indigos becoming even stronger.

You see, early on, it was ok to talk about smashing them with a bat or yes even stabbing them. None of us could really do that but we talked about it all the same. I remember one man saying that he couldn’t wait to take revenge for his wife who fell victim to them at her job. The more he talked the angrier he would get. I watched him calmly and let him vent. At one particular moment, when he looked at me, he said he would wipe that stupid smile off their faces with his fist pumping in front of him. It was at that moment that his eyes became wide. His fist slowly unclenched and he fell. I realized that the Indigos were now hearing the thoughts of people who had ill intent toward them. It wasn’t enough to just stay away from them anymore. I adjusted my tactics.

I began forcing all thoughts of revenge out of my mind. I had to accept what was happening and accept what had happened. I had to or I would die. I realized my theory was correct by seeing even more survivors collapse as they talked about what they were going to do to the Indigos. I remained silent about what I had uncovered because I was afraid that telling someone would jeopardize my life. I was being corralled as it were and I knew it, but I went along all the same. I had to survive.

Soon it was just me and a kind old fellow named Justin. We understood how to survive. Justin and I knew without saying a word. We knew we were the only hope and we clung to our lives. Justin and I would go about our daily routine of gathering food and water without talking. We would look at each other and just know what the other was saying. We would confirm it with a smile. I was starting to worry that Justin had become too absorbed with acceptance of our situation. He seemed to enjoy our day to day mundane existence. This was fine with me. Oh it was fine and I entertained no ill intent toward anything. It was great.

I remember the day I lost Justin. He was still sleeping when I woke up. I was thirsty and realized that our water container was empty. I strolled down the sidewalk and found a car that we hadn’t used yet and inserted our siphoning tube into its gas tank. Oh, I haven’t told you that yet. All the worlds gasoline and petroleum had been turned into pure drinking water. That was fine with me. Just grand actually. How wonderful! That had happened about three days into the revolution.

I filled our container and made my way back up the stairs to our home. Justin was still lying in the bed. I drank some water and waited for Justin to stir. He never moved that day. When I finally checked him he was dead. In horror I realized that the Indigos were now reading dreams. That had to be fine with me. It was fine. It was great actually. No ill intent here, just acceptance. I had to survive.

My sleep now is not actually sleep. I lie on the bed and concentrate on love and acceptance, never letting myself slip under the blissful relief of rem sleep. I am awake and aware of things but at the same time I feel as if I’m getting the rest I need. I am becoming mentally exhausted but I know I must endure.

On one of my excursions through a few houses I remember seeing a compound bow mounted to the wall of a garage. The moment I saw it I realized the implications but I couldn’t think it. I turned away from it as if I had done something shameful. I couldn’t go there. Not yet. No ill intent here. Just love. I had to become stronger.

It took some time for me to even look at the bow. There were days that I would walk back to it and never even look at the wall where it was hung. I knew where it was but I couldn’t look at it. Not yet. I would just stand there concentrating. I was soon able to stand close to it and even look at it. Soon enough I was able to touch it. It was nothing at all really. It was just a stick with some string. No ill intent here. Just love.

A long time had passed before I was able to gather up the quiver full of arrows that accompanied the bow. You see they were nothing either. Just some sticks with points and that was all. No ill intent. Just love. The two of them together meant nothing. Nothing at all. I was becoming stronger. I had purpose.

More time passed, how much, I do not know. All my energy was being used to accept the bow and arrow as nothing really. I began target practice a while later. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just putting sticks into the side of a shed and they looked lovely. That was all. No ill intent. It was just something to do. My tactics were working because I was still alive and I had purpose.

Part four: Determination

How I loved those Indigos! I really began to love them and accept what they were doing. I continued on in this fashion for quite some time. I was able to put every arrow into a small circle with ease. This was great but it meant nothing at all. No ill intent. Just love. Another long span of time had passed and by this time I was able to walk around with the bow and the arrows. I was even able to watch the Indigos on certain occasions when I learned to exude nothing but love. I was becoming stronger and I had purpose.

I remember walking along a hiking trail. I had been there before. On the side of the trail was an Indigo. It was an older gentleman who had made an elaborate figure eight out of some pine cones on the ground. He was beautiful to me. The slight glow and little garden that enveloped him was gorgeous. I loved him. I visited him frequently. I loved him as time after time I would draw the bow back loaded with an arrow. I would watch him like that for some time. He was lovely. The bow and arrow meant nothing to me at all you see. No ill intent. Just love. I felt as if I was a part of him. He and I knew each other now you see. He was my friend now and I was his friend.

It seemed like forever had passed as I religiously would follow the same routine of walking the hiking trail and drawing the bow. The day I was able to finally let the arrow fly was grand! I remember thinking of how much I loved this odd fellow who seemed to want for nothing. I instinctively drew back the bow and let my arrow fly without so much of a thought. It was nothing really. No ill intent. Just love.

The arrow struck him between the shoulder blades and he collapsed. That meant nothing really. No ill intent here. Just love. I turned slowly as I concentrated with all my might. It was nothing really. It didn’t mean anything. Isn’t this lovely? Oh, how I loved what the Indigos were doing. We were one and I loved them. I walked back to my home that day and rested.

The next day I visited the old gentlemen. His little garden seemed to be growing wildly now. It didn’t have that manicured look to it. The slight glow was not present. He was exactly how I left him. That meant nothing. It was fine and I loved whatever came into my sight. It was wonderful what was happening here. It was great. I had purpose now like I had never had purpose before, but I had to control myself. I wanted to expand. I wanted to go further. “I love you.” I whispered at the old man as tears began to well up in my eyes. I was still alive and I had purpose. That much was for sure.

I sat in my home for days following this event. I was concentrating all my love and acceptance toward these Indigos. I do love them all now but I still have something to do and I know it is important. What is it that keeps imposing on my thoughts of love? Whatever it is it will have to wait. I must go and observe that little girl down the road. She is beautiful. She has little men in armor positioned in a figure eight on a bench in front of her and they are wonderful! Her little garden is exquisite and inviting. The glow she exudes is welcoming. I love her already. Let me go watch her for a while. I’ll bring this stick and string with me along with these sticks with points. They mean nothing to me. Nothing at all. No ill intent here. Just love.


It took a great deal of time but I succeeded in creating an Indigo free zone. It is my own little town. I am not alone. Others had learned the secret to surviving and we know each other. I don’t know how we know each other. We just do. They came sometimes by twos and threes. We want to expand but we must get stronger first. We don’t speak to each other. We just know how to communicate and work together as we love our Indigo adversaries. It is all about the love. Isn’t this wonderful?

Now that was an awesome story and you certainly met the 500 word minimum. It was fantastic the way the main character used love against those who demanded it. Well done, Bravo!!!!

I hope you do well in the contest,

wupy

Yes writing can be painfuL! ANother test of. Magic jack WE may lOse hOurS oF sleep during WAr.

StocK up oN. COffee.
PhOne
Typing. Note

reply to post by mrwupy


Thanks mrwupy. It was hard because I was trying to incorporate everything I had read about Indigos into a battle. It did drive me a little batty but I think I expressed everything I learned about them. I'll be prepared when the real one begins!

I edited to add this question mrwupy. Why is it that the word compound bow is highlighted in my story?

[edit on 8-7-2009 by jackflap]

reply to post by OrangeJuice


Thanks OrangeJuice! This was tough to figure out. But I remember an old saying that went something like this. If it wasn't painfully difficult, you did it wrong.

wow, that was AWESOME! Love to destroy love...seems I had it wrong all along. Really got my mind working. Good luck in the contest.

reply to post by Mr. Toodles


Thanks Mt. Toodles I'm glad you enjoyed it. In my mind it was the only way I could see to get to them. In the research I did I found that telepathy was one of the traits they displayed. I knew I couldn't have the characters run up to them because they were far too clever for that sort of thing. So why not use exactly what they were promoting?

reply to post by jackflap


Wow that was very well thought. I felt Laura's mother's pain. I can just imagine her not being able to reach out to her child as I have three of my own. I also felt Toby's pain, really liked what you did to Jed!!! wow wonderful story! S&F!

reply to post by ldyserenity


Thank you ldyserenity! I appreciate your opinion. Jed definitely had that coming. If it wasn't the revolution that got him I would have had to find some other way to end his miserable existence.

Epiphany:

a literary work or section of a work presenting, usually symbolically, such a moment of revelation and insight.

dictionary.reference.com...

Epiphany Squared is the result of both sides having a moment of revelation and insight.

The figure eight that the Indigos were compelled to begin creating has meaning as well.

"Eight is seven plus one, and is hence the start of a new order, the beginning of a new era. Eight thus represents regeneration and resurrection. When the flood washed the earth clean, in a type of baptism, eight people were saved in the ark."

sacredgeometry.tribe.net...

So you see they were trying to tell everyone something with their odd arrangements. Nobody caught it.

I hoped the correlation between the two groups was apparent. The survivors were forced into thinking only love and became a collective unto themselves. They were careful and did not speak because that could cause the mind to drift. The Indigo's communicated in their collective much in the same way.

This story has a Stephen King-ish feel to it, bravo. Loved it, thanks .

reply to post by Harman


I do believe I may have been influenced. I read a lot of Stephen King, so he may have rubbed off on me. I don't mind that one bit. I also read many Edgar Allen Poe stories. My favorite being the Narrative of A. Gordon Pym.
Thank you for your opinion Harman I do appreciate it.

ahhhhh good stuff

Dare I say it Jack...

I LOVE IT!!

now what does that mean now in this context?

Love conquers all
Love is all you need
Love thy neighbor

mmm does that mean the main character was like a cupid ?
The cupids rise against the indigoes...

reply to post by 2theC


I didn't have that in my mind when I wrote it but now that you've pointed it out to me I could see it! I was laughing for a while thanks. One must consider that the main character was forced into the thought patterns that he knew would save his life. So those things you listed do not apply to this story. By the way I am still laughing every time I think of your post. Cupid from hell I believe I'd call it.

Jackflap you are an awesome writer.

You must have written some books with talent in writing like that. Your story about the Indigo people was spell binding.

I had to read the whole thing, which is very rare for me, and I'd like to read a whole lot more.

You write so well that a person like myself believes that I'm actually there watching the whole thing unwind. If a movie was made out of this story then you would be extremely rich, that is if you owned the rights to it, but now ATS does.

I wish you would have written this in a book, because I would have bought it, and I rarely buy books to read any more, but your writing has me very much interested in reading anything you have written. Have you written any books? IF so, what is/are their names, because I will go out and buy one or more of them to read.

You still could eliminate this story and replace it with another one for ATS and make this one your own person book/movie; because I guarantee you that this story is not only a best seller, it's a box office blow out at the movie theaters if its ever made into a movie.

You are a GREAT WRITER my friend, and I mean a "GREAT WRITER". Stars and Flags for you, and books sales if you have any books to sell.