Deep breaths and panicked thoughts. Racing heart beats and bullet-holes ripping through my mind. For only ten hours straight I had been slaving over what I thought was supposed to be a short story about the great future which would never come and by now I felt like I was stuck in a black hole of dark nothingness. My heart was punctured and splattered across 18 ink stained pages and I had no clue where in the world I was taking these characters of mine. The entire story concerned the delivery of a child and, in the style of As I lay Dying, I juggled the focus of third person narration between the three characters taking the center stage in the drama. Suffering in the present for the sake of a better future which was never to come was the theme and now I had drawn the drama and set the stage for the moment of my birth, yet I now, at that ungodly hour of 3:33 in the morning, found myself blank as a board, unable to bring myself to write up the moment of truth and the downward decline afterward. Something, somewhere, somehow was to happen but I didn't know what (as is usual when composing stories-the ending must come about in a firebrand fury of divine inspiration). I was frustrated and the thought faucet stopped flowing right as it began to strike a fever pitch. I simply could not bear the pain of the labor of creation of beauty to compose the peak of the action and, screaming out to God herself for making such a mockery of my work and time on the planet, I saved what little sanity I had left and went to my room, head hanging down, feeling defeated without my muse by my side.

The phone started to ring in my third eye. My gaze was drawn to the wooden bejeweled acorn-bowled changa pipe I had brought with me from my home down south. The last time my lips had ever touched it had been when I smoalked it alone in the middle of a grassy clearing in the mangrove swamps of home right before I shipped off to the city for surgery. That day I had packed it with an entire teaspoon full of enhanced leaf and had managed to get through only a fraction of it in that field before I felt myself flying a bit too high for comfort. I had kept it as a souvenir of that last flight of mine and had been saving it for a moment when I needed it most. That moment was right then and there at 3:33 AM in my bedroom in a city 500 miles away from where it was loaded.

Turning off the lights, I curled up into a comfy half lotus propped up on a pillow on my bed, back straight against the wall. I centered myself for some unknown period of self contemplation and, hearing the starting bells of the tripathon ringing in my ears, I took those first two tokes, each longer and harsher than the last.

As per the norm with harmala-heavy changas, I found myself slowly slip into a cool and comfy hyperspatial vista over the course of two minutes. Through the multicolored fractalline haze I dove deeper than what the eye could see, inspiration on my pallet.

Out of the blue there was felt a red presence. What this presence could have been in terms of sensory input I cannot say, only one of my three eyes could sense it. The presence was there-an old, wise, ancient life force floating before my closed eyes in the spirit world. It seemed wise and lonely from eons of contemplation and deep thought. Lovingly I opened up my heart to the redness, I thanked it for making its presence known to me and gave this newfound teacher the gift of my warm and open heart and my full attention. A tear was shed through my still-beating heart. From the depression in space-time red ribbons burst forth into my visual field and encircled my gaze. A warm flood of bliss and euphoria echoed through my self and about my soul. At the base of my spine an energetic serpent seemed tightly coiled, waiting for the right moment to unwind. The presence didn't have a name, but it seemed to be thankful that it had an audience for the first time in god-knows how long. It told me, in vibrations echoing from my heart like sounds from a tuning fork "Thank you for sharing your moment with mine. What you seek will be yours soon if you dive deeper into the pool and set your intentions right." I thanked him for his advice and for his presence, and from the void, it laughed. "No need to thank me, friend. Just be. That is all the tribute I ask from you, child."

Hyperspace dissolved back into the slipstream world of the mortal realm. The high-strung serpent at the base of my spine still sat suspiciously still. Not a breath burst from him. He felt like a predator who, stalking his prey, had succeeded in sneaking right up behind it and was now sitting still, waiting for the moment to strike.

"Oh, spirits of the night, spirits of the day. I seek inspiration for this work of mine. I seek to know how it ends, how the battle between life and death goes down in the birth canal. I have put the pieces in place and now I find myself lacking a hammer to tear them down with, a punchline to put this divine comedy to rest with. I seek to know the ending to this tale you tell. I seek to know where the river flows to, where the path will take me. I have crafted the beginning, now I seek the end."

Vibrating on the air the static stillness saturating the dark void around me held its breath. The serpent licked the flames of stillborn anticipation with its forked tongue, coiled up to an unbearable degree of tightness.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH"

Possessed by the hand of fate, I reached for the pipe and lighter through the darkness and, with one swift reach, my hand swooped them up in one swift swipe.

*Click*

The glowing golden flame of the fire brought light to the cavern of experience. Lining the burning ball at the epicenter of its chemical inferno, a rainbow halo shone around it. The lighting brought a smile to my face as I took a terrific toke, slowly dragging on the stream of smoke for an unknown amount of time. Lungs filled to the brim, I held it in until instinct took control over its faculties and I let loose a plume of vapour out into the world. I immediately felt off center and, putting my instruments back where they came from, I glued my eyes closed as IT HAPPENED.

The serpent, seizing the moment, uncoiled itself and shot up like a spring through my spine. A Noetic Lighting bolt shot up my spine in a matter of microseconds, opening each and every chakra along the way. Pure infinite internal energy radiated about and within me and I felt the power of a thousand suns erupt throughout my mortal coil. Thought became an impossibility as I felt the presence flood up me along the path the serpent had blazed for it and I left my mind in control of its new-found masters.

My crown chakra erupted into a cloud of rainbow white light, pure noetic lightning and kundalini power flooded out from my crown down, pure power unlike any which I had ever experienced in my entire life. It was one of those many things which, even now, I cannot but fail miserably in my rhetorical quest to put it down in human language. Pure potent power, the spirit of the ubermensch shining down upon me. Ecstasy, joy, DMT and enlightenment all rolled up into one fatty and smoked in a single breath and exhaled out among the stars clouding and crowding the sky above and the infinite stretches of the world within. I felt POWER. I felt REAL. I felt NOW. I felt ALIVE.

My third eye burst wide open, bulging out of my forehead. It shone a shade of deep neon red and pierced the darkness like a scalpel through a cadaver. From it spewed a stream of sparks of bright red light of the exact same character as that of the eye and of the previous presence. Now the presence was within me and had worked its way into the command center of my very soul.

A shrill chill, like the spine-tingling sensation one gets from putting their ear next to a piece of chalk shrilly squeaking as it screeches across the black board, began to tingle in my ears. The tingling chillsation began to spread down my ears, through opposite sides of my neck and, at the base of my neck the two twin numbing tingling energies merged together into one single mega energy that burst out like a cold sun down my shoulders and back and through each and every one of my extremities. They tingled like they do pre-orgasm but only stronger, to the point where they pooped me out of my own body and all I could feel was the tingling orgasmic cold shrills running all over my body; no other sensations were felt but this. My mind was completely dissociated from the self. I was not in control. It, the red presence from before, now had complete possession of my body. My higher soulful self, all that constitutes my conscious awareness and control of self was sent out the back door of the mind. Still aware, I was no longer in control of my body. I could only observe; action was out of the question.

The red squiggles which had erupted from the seat of my soul coalesced into images before me of the act of labor, of squeezing life out of myself and into the world. I saw not life in those images of crimson doom before me. I heard no cries of new life, nor did I perceive any signs of a newborn healthy red crying child. There was only death and doom and decay.

Echoing, reverberating through my throat a voice erupted out of my mouth. It spoke not in my own typical tone but with a much darker, much more surreal sound similar to how Riku in Kingdom Hearts sounded after being possessed by Ansem.

“I am the muse you write of by and for. I am the one you know as Daphne, your angel, your muse, your guide who guards your life and shows your pen where to go to gain glory on the page.

This story which you write is not a comedy, but a tragedy. This is a tale of death, of a lost future, of a miscarriage. The child you seek to deliver through words will not live. You write not of birth, but of an abortion. Now make haste, silly one. The time is upon you to catalogue your greatest final fear. Sally forth while the flame still burns bright, and bring this baby out of life. If you wish to find another you too must come to terms with what you are. This is the quest I give to you: write back to the day of your birth and have it go wrong. See what could have been and be happy knowing it was not. Take this contentment to heart and let it guide you to the wombman of your dreams. This is the only way for you to open the door to true physical love. This is your ticket to true romance and the key which locks away the lust-ridden trainwrecks of past years lost and opens the future to the wombman who haunts your deepest dreams.

Some day. This day may come soon, you will see what you have written is true. This is the deepest truth: that truth of you. The mineshaft goes deeper and deeper still-so much more you must learn. Make haste now, child of the universe. Write it all out, these words of mine, and let the others know so that they may too gain wisdom from our struggles and triumphs. GODSPEED, GODSMACKER!”

The cold orgasmic tingles began to recede and the warmth of control swept through my being. Once more I felt my cold warm heart beat still and my breaths picked up the pace into a panic.

What could this be, I asked myself, wide-eyed and unbelievably exasperated of all rhyme or reason. Is this really so? Must I go back to the day I was born to understand what would have happened if I had died when I came out of the womb OD’ing on fentanyl? It must be so-the road to peace is paved with cobblestones of unrest and self-seeking. It is to the page I take, to tell my tale to the world so that my heart may set sail for others, so that I may find peace in yet another chamber of my heart.

“Weeeeeeeeeeeowowwowowoooeeeooohhwwowoooooohhhoowowowowowwohfoefoow”

Gutteral noises galore exploded out of me and I got up and paced and twirled my stick for God knows how long. I turned on the light and everything went green with fright. To the desk I took haste and upon the page did my penstrokes grace. Like a hummingbird my hand fluttered and flew over the pages, taking no care or caution to cross t’s or dot I’s. If I were to gain anything from Daphne I must write it down now in my own pen before it faded away into the darkness from whence it came like the rest of the unrecorded messages. In no time at all did four pages of notes get drawn down. It was on these four pages that I further learned about where and when and what and how I wished for my novella to travel, what form it would take. Whenever I write I look at these pages of scribbles and scratches and scattered blotches of inkstained intelligence for guidance before jumping into the murky depths of my work in eternal progress.

Alas, after writing down her crude lessons on the page. I looked out the window and saw that the sun was coming up and I wished to bask in her red hot inspiring rays of effervescent eternal energy. On my bike I took flight to Lake Alice, to see the sun rise and witness the bright glow of her eternal wisdom beam down upon me. The golden glow of sister sun will better let me understand the path I trod.

Such it was that I rode like a madman to the lake. By the lake I saw an abandoned chapel which was unlocked (by some mysterious grace of my mystical Mother Nature). Taking this to be a sign from the divine I wandered into the church. The white walls of the interior, the abandoned aquamarine pews abandoned of all and any interlopers, upon the ceiling an awe-inspiring array of criss-crossing white beams saturated the vaulted ceiling above me. The glossy wooden pulpit I stood on looked over the imaginary congregation packed into the pews to hear my sermon of truth. Behind me, a vaulted 10 meter high window made way for the serene sight of Lake Alice which stood still as a mirror before the awe-inspiring sunrise. A rainbow of blues, reds, yellows, oranges, purples and every and each hue of god-given splendor in between rained through behind me, filling me with new-found inner strength and god-given inspiration.

Phone recording my words I thus spoke to the huddled imaginary masses before me as I preached my lessons and what I had learned. I opened up the sermon singing Hallelujah to all in attendance and then proceeded to discuss my novel idea. At the end of my sermon I proclaimed an all-powerful AMEN and bowed down before the crux of the almighty one and all, the full force of the universe within and around me which I was fortunate to consider myself and integral piece of both.

Still the Kundalini energy stayed with me, driving me on back home, full of splendid white light which seemed undying, eternal and never ending. Upon getting home I locked myself within the confines of my cave of creation and began drafting the ferociously feral final part of my greatest gift to humanity. Even then, as now, I find myself still writing this great work and it only gets deeper. As I bore on deeper and deeper still into this mysterious work of mine, so too does my understanding of my deeper desires become more and more self-evident. Someday, some day soon I will be done with this work on the death of the American family and the destruction of mankind’s faith in the future. Someday… someday soon it will all be said and done and I will find yet another work to give my existence meaning….

Alas that day is not today as I still ferociously, furiously fight to get it all written down. After 24 pages of blood, sweat and tears I feel myself as incomplete and energized as the day I first undertook this divine endeavor to revisit my greatest fear: that of dying upon my day of birth. When the day comes about that I finish this work of mine I know that an even greater feminine power will enter my life to save me from myself. Until that day arrives, I leave this as a warning of my flood to be which shall sweep humanity up by its bootstraps and take all of us back to the date of our departure from the Mother Ship.

Selah.

I'll have what ever your smoking

Nice story.

Thank you for sharing this, I'm going to have to print it and absorb it fully!