Writing Sample

Current and correct version of the one corrupted on the manuscript service server.

Foreboding (continued)

Friday, April 29, 1994

On one day, I hurriedly went off to work and failed to notice a sock clung to the inside of my shirt. I did not know why people looked oddly at me when I went to break. When I returned to my station, I was embarrassed to find the sock clinging in my shirtsleeve. I removed my shoe, put the sock over top of the other one, and replaced the shoe.

Saturday, April 30, 1994

On the next day, I went with my parents to Sanford, when they went to buy a trailer. On the way home, I observed a line of traffic all the way from Durham to Pittsboro. I saw someone resembling Margaret Roberts, plant manager of my workplace, sitting in the back seat of a police car.

When we went out to eat at a restaurant, an old man snidely inferred to me that someone was going to be done like David Koresh. Outside I saw what looked like a bomb squad disposal truck with an industrial type of cab. The container on the back was somewhat smaller than that of a garbage truck, and by the appearance of the construction of the joints was certainly made of very thick metal, so much so that to my mind its purpose could be no other than for bomb disposal. Apart from the container, there was no other apparatus on the back of the truck. Now I figured that someone based on the bulge the sock created in my clothes had falsely accused me of bringing a bomb to work. Was that what Margaret Roberts told the police?

They tapped into the cable television feed and that night every channel had nothing but gun violence to watch. In the middle of the night, what sounded like a very quiet helicopter hovered over the house for a while. In the early morning hours, persons stalked around the house and neighborhood shooting what sounded like silenced pistols and playing back a peculiar bird noise.

Sunday, May 1, 1994

Soon after I got up in the morning, while I was praying Psalm 91 to myself quietly, a helicopter flew over and sprayed liquid on the top of the house. The previous mention of David Koresh made it probable they were trying to convince me that they were going to burn down the house. Prompted by the Spirit, I told my mom later in the morning about the sock without elaborating the context. She phoned to tell someone the story. Nervousness in her voice betrayed her intent to appease the person with whom she spoke. A little later that morning a bucket truck came and removed the special cable television feed that they had installed the day before.

The Lion’s Den

Sunday, May 1, 1994

Having not succeeded in the previous attempts to destroy me, the enemy brought their next attack. They witched to produce all out terror in me. As a result, I checked into the hospital seeking safety. Upon checking in, I was invited to play chess with a black man named Arthur. His face was just starting to glisten with sweat as if he were pushed to the brink with anger, his eyes slightly teared. He told me a story about how his sister had been killed by someone who broke into her house through a window. A white woman, a patient also, watched as we played. She showed no emotion but a vile gleam in her eyes that revealed a rage far beyond that of Arthur. She, seeing his anger, asked me with duplicity who was my favorite television preacher. After I replied that it was Charles Stanley, Arthur went and placed a phone call whereupon he conversed angrily with the other person. Third shift came in as I was beginning to make a move to go to bed. On the way back from my bedroom, I saw, from the hall, hospital employees bring in a large plastic tray. From it, they distributed to the other patients sharp implements wrapped in cloth. The rage in their eyes left no doubt that they did not intend for me to live through the night. In my heart, I repeated Psalm 91 with urgency:

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress,

My God, in whom I trust!"

For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper,

And from the deadly pestilence.

He will cover you with His pinions,

And under His wings you may seek refuge;

His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.

You will not be afraid of the terror by night,

Or of the arrow that flies by day;

Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,

Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.

A thousand may fall at your side,

And ten thousand at your right hand;

But it shall not approach you.

You will only look on with your eyes,

And see the recompense of the wicked.

For you have made the LORD, my refuge,

Even the Most High, your dwelling place.

No evil will befall you,

Nor will any plague come near your tent.

For He will give His angels charge concerning you,

To guard you in all your ways.

They will bear you up in their hands,

Lest you strike your foot against a stone.

You will tread upon the lion and cobra,

The young lion and the serpent you will trample down.

"Because he has loved Me, therefore I will deliver him;

I will set him securely on high,

because he has known My name.

He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will rescue him, and honor him.

With a long life I will satisfy him,

And let him behold My salvation." (NAS)

I went to bed to await the outcome of this bad turn of events. I could hear the barely audible beating of my heart while sleep eluded me. I vigilantly put down all thought of the evil they intended toward me to keep my faith. Nonetheless, it was a long time before slumber overcame my stifled dread.

Monday, May 2, 1994

I woke to find I was still alive. Yet, I had more nights to face the same or other peril. The other patients talked quietly in other rooms in the area. One of them said, "It must be voodoo.” I wondered if he might be slandering the fact that God protected me through the night. I determined within myself that I was "well" and that I needed to get out of this place. A woman came in to question me, and with two witnesses writing, asked misleading questions which seemed to be intended to cause me to misspeak myself. One of her questions was "What does the statement mean which says, ‘There is no need in crying over spilt milk.' ” She afterwards went and talked to the other patients, who became angrier at me than before. From another room, one man with whom she spoke cried out, “He must be insane!” One of the hospital staff engaged us in a game of charades in which she insinuated that they were going to circle the wagons and that "someone" was not going to be able to escape. Her eyes were teared with hatred as if she would cry. The attempted intimidations struck a female patient with fear so that she said, “Something is wrong with all of this.” In the middle of the day, I saw the vicious white woman who had sought to incite Arthur previously, standing at the window with her arms spread out palms upward, which in my reading on cults knew to be how Wicca practitioners worship Mother Nature.

Tuesday, May 3, 1994

I was taken to get a chest x-ray (I was not in for anything of that sort). While waiting, a little girl who went in before me was made to scream for psychological effect, but came out happy and smiling. When I went in, a man in a black suit carrying a briefcase, whom one might think was a federal agent, watched sternly over the proceedings. Were they still looking for the bomb? Or was it just a pretext to cover for the false accusation that had been made? They were certainly wasting my time and my money. Unnecessary medical procedures cost money, and they would bill me for it. The patients talked later about how the Wicca woman had been locked in solitary for her meanness, and how she could not even get along with her mother.

Wednesday, May 4, 1994

At activity time, the staff assembled us to line dance. As we proceeded, the hospital worker who had played charades previously spoke to another of me, “I wonder how he would dance if we played Petra for him.” The reference to Petra made the woman an accomplice to Nortel’s espionage activities because I had not discussed my music listening activities with anyone in that detail, if at all. Because only a minority of fundamental Christians listen to Christian rock, she could not have inferred that I listened to such without specific knowledge. Later I was alone in a room with an old man with a patch on his eye. Before a doctor interrupted to take him away, he asked me whether I would like to lose an eye. I recognized him by his voice to be the man whom the woman provoked a few days earlier to say, “He must be insane!”

Thursday, May 5, 1994

As their last move against me, they arranged for Arthur to be my roommate. I was very perplexed at how to deal with this new turn of events. A little before bedtime, children were brought in to the visiting area. They were saying, "You will not sue, will you? You will not sue, will you?" Apparently, they sought to get around any legal complications by using children to communicate for them. At bedtime, while talking with Arthur, I found that he had insomnia and could not sleep. He also indicated that his anger had been due to crack addiction. He indicated further that he had been on a ward more suitable to his condition, and had been moved unexpectedly to my ward just before my arrival. He also renounced the story he previously told about his sister. I wondered about these things. I prayed with him that he would be able to sleep. After a bit, he began snoring and I went to sleep myself.

Friday, May 6, 1994

I found that a razor had been left on Arthur's bed for him and returned it to the nurse. I saw on the television what I thought was a very odd commercial. It offered for sale a book named, “Cheque Mate.” It claimed to tell one how to live in difficult circumstances; how to live among others disguised so that they would not know you. They were apparently appealing to someone whom they expected to become a fugitive. Under the circumstances, I thought it possible my adversaries who had put me in this position were declaring their victory, either themselves or perhaps indirectly through persons manipulated by their witchcrafts. Today was my last day, I was happy with the prospect of going home.

Monday, May 9, 1994

Out of the hospital but still on medical leave, my mother and I ate breakfast at La Cocos Restaurant. I was enjoying a Spanish omelette. A tallish balding man looked at me and spoke for all to hear, “We should assassinate him.” Mom, unaware of what was going on, did not notice his words. When I got home, I lay on the bed to rest. While doing so the Spirit said to me, “Do not even think!” and kept insisting so. This made me angry because I thought it was a very unreasonable request. Later in the week, WTVD 11 News reported an Amtrak accident in Durham involving about 75 deaths and 275 injuries. I could not help but think that this related the damage done by the cabal under some public relations disguise, perhaps to prevent further agitating the problem. The exact bird noise, that had been played earlier in conjunction with the silenced gun sound, played on television in place of commercials. This bird noise apparently was meant to be psychological trigger to communicate a threat of violence with respect to the silenced gun sound with which it was associated. Thus, they intended to effect witness tampering by the use of this signal. They attempted to add to its effect by also playing a video clip of Alex Trebek with digitally superimposed lips saying “jeopardy, jeopardy.” I can only imagine that the average citizen thought that the media had gone insane. Every time this sound played in the media during the subsequent weeks and months increased the credibility of this conclusion. Nortel's involvement with this psychological trigger is shown by the fact that they obtained many custom license plates from the North Carolina DMV with the sequence BIRDS1, BIRDS2, BIRDS3, etc. which they sought to compel me to see.

Because of fear, when my parents went to stay in the mountains, I arranged to stay with my Uncle Thomas. I traveled to and from work from his house. At work, some of my coworkers were a little tense. The structure of the building near us was popping randomly. I was not going to be moved by false omens made by what I thought to be remote-controlled electromagnetic solenoids. These were louder and more conspicuous than the ones with which I previously experienced. Some were sharing and laughing over a caricatured drawing of me and some of my coworkers placed in a ship labeled “Ship of Fools.” Presumably, they found it funny that the attempt by my adversaries to frame me ensnared these with me as well.

May 20, 1994

My Uncle Thomas took me to eat at Honey’s Restaurant, his favorite gathering place. While there, many in the restaurant insinuated to us that we should not make the trip we were planning to the mountains. “Companies will leave, jobs will be lost,” they said. A few of them were made up as if hurt, one in a cast, another in a wheelchair. What they were saying made no sense to Thomas. He replied to them, “Naw, Naw, there ain’t nothin’ to that.” I would not have known where to begin to tell him what was going on.

A Catch of Fish

May 21, 1994

On Saturday, I went with Uncle Thomas to the mountains. Part way there he stopped at a country store to get cigarettes. When he came back, he said, “You might have to stay in the mountains.” I took it that he heard the conversations of some quarrelling in the store. At the end of the weekend, Uncle Thomas returned home. I stayed on with my parents. At the beginning of the week, my parents and I went back to Durham to pick up supplies pertaining to what they were doing on the land. After stocking up, we headed back to the mountains.

As my parents and I started up the first long slope up the mountains, a wondrous sight startled me. Something like orange lightning struck from the sky a good way in front of us, resembling fire from heaven. This first strike came down straight but a little crooked, somewhat thicker than lightening. The second strike was enormous in width and tapered somewhat, as if a tornado was on fire. The third strike was similar to the first. I wondered if these things could be of God. I also knew fire from heaven in the end times to be an act of the beast and false prophet of chapter thirteen of Revelation. I wondered if any of these two could be on the rise within the ranks of Nortel or of their accomplices.

My parents took me fishing at a trout pond. While preparing to fish, I asked God to promote the righteous in place of unrighteous politicians citing,

And it is God who changes the times and the epochs; He removes kings and establishes kings; He gives wisdom to wise men, And knowledge to men of understanding.” (Dan 2:21 NAS)

I dared to ask God to make my take of fish a sign of the outcome. Even though I am not a fisherman, I caught more fish than I ever had, but the big one got away. I noticed crews patching the roads when we travelled other areas of the mountains. I suspected they might be covering up for the spectacle a few nights before.

Writing Sample

The Lion’s Den

A Catch of Fish

Chapter continues...