My 2014 challenge is to write a novel (or at least a very long story) via Twitter a la flash fiction style. Each day, I’ll tweet a part of the story a few times over which will also be available here on my blog.
The beauty with this is that, apart from a base starting plot, the story is likely to change over the course of the year, so its ending will be just as much a surprise to me as it will be to you. There may also be guest contributers now and again for a little added touch of the unknown.
I hope you enjoy the journey… now let’s see where this adventure takes us.
What I recall of my childhood before age 8: the lady in my doorway each night, synesthesia and believing I was adopted.
The 7-foot shadow-lady donned a long monk-like cloak, her hands obscured. She was there every night, motionless, looking over me. I threw a sock at her once; it disappeared into the void of her being. I should have been scared.
But that was just the beginning.
I could hear babies crying in the night where there were none, plus, I was the only person I knew who could smell colours.
My parents were normal. But because I thought I wasn’t, by any stretch, well, we just couldn’t really be related then, could we? My supposition was partly right.
This, then, is a story about discovering who I never was, to remember every me that ever will be.
Apart from an interest in crystals and astrology, my life was pretty ordinary. None of my weird childhood followed me around. Then my dad died after my 30th birthday and the world I knew changed forever. I became aware in ways I could never have imagined.
It began with a dream. Dad and I were talking on a train. Later, mum was stunned: everything dad had told me only they had known. After that, I began a relentless search for contacting the deceased, and it was this journey that put me onto my present path.
A path that uncovered the fact that, for aeons, we have all been lied to, and that the reality we recognise is anything but.
The path that led me to discover that I was never who I thought. That I belonged to a universal consortium that spanned the ages.
The wave of relief that washed over me was astounding. I was awake, finally. It took all of my will to leave that dream… again.
A catastrophic, world-changing event in another time and place. Water and fire mingled to dance a dance of destruction in the melee. I lost my family, my home and my country… scenes that played over and over every time the dream came to me.
Yet one image haunted me: letting my twin soul go. On the shores of a new land, surrounded by survivors, my love bids me farewell and disappears beneath the dark, watery depths. He would return to his ocean home, promising we would reunite in another life.
Paradoxically, seeing my love again only brought me pain. It felt so real, even upon wakefulness. I couldn’t stand the memories.
I stretched and sat up, clumsily fumbling for my phone. It wasn’t there. Things often disappeared and later reappeared at my house. Certain about an item’s last known location before it went missing, it would then remanifest days later in the most obtuse place.
Then there were the instances where I was tripped up the stairs. Falling, I’d look down to see clouds where the steps should be. It was only later, randomly, that I discovered that a lot of the strangeness at home was due to our resident spirit guide, Chris.
I sighed. Someday – soon – I promised to learn the real meaning behind all the weirdities in my life!
Time for work.
Every day I was surrounded by academics who couldn’t see past their noses. I knew to I lay low lest I be ridiculed. Even still, a colleague once called me ‘wrong in the head’ because I believed in the supernatural. It has nothing to do with belief!
What exists exists, no matter how hard you deny it by putting others down. Still, when something ‘weird’ happens, they come to me. For example, I was totally floored when a so-called non-believer work mate asked for advice on increasing confidence via crystals! I had only just completed my crystal therapy training then and was as nervous as hell. Surprisingly, whatever I did helped him.
I’d had a rough eighteen months and often wondered what my antagonists would say if they knew what I knew. Things would change.
For now it was back to the drawing board – I spent my days weaving and fashioning others’ ideals on the canvas that was the web. Ironically, I was online searching for something – anything – to help me come to terms with the loss of my dad.
I found seeds of doubt and controversy. I discovered that everything I had ever known or had been taught was complete fabrication.
I found freedom.
For the first time, I was able to start making sense of the madness in my life. It wasn’t me who was lost, it was everyone else. My favourite saying was always ‘Some people ask why; I ask, why not’. I finally began to understand what that actually meant. I was never satisfied with the accepted explanation. There had to be more. And there was. The trick was to never stop questioning. The moment you blindly believed, just because everyone else did, was the moment you became a sheep. Enslaved Asleep.