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And so now where were we my, midnight minions, in the words of this magical mystery tour we began last night about one special girl and one special boy that blessed the world for all of us. Oh, yes I believe dangling ankles had just been put back to rest and since last night the boys went first, let us continue tonight with rule number one any gentlemen should learn; so ladies first tonight and we will see whats going on with the magic that newborn girl was given to hold on too.
It was not long after grandmother had fell back to rest with a gentle rocking to keep the peace of her soul in line with time when that baby girl broke the morning with laughs and goo's. So excited with the morning that little girl got too loud for grandma to longer ignore. Whisping the child into her arms wrapped in swaddling cloths they rushed to the table for girl talk and breakfast. Finishing the conversations from the night before, soon mother and father arrived to claim the newborn prize.
Through the night the parents had discussed it in depth just what to call this newborn gift they had been given (NO, it's not @taylorswift if anyone reads this) they named the child Noira as was the claim her grandmother laid upon her head the night before. Little Noira was quite a child to contend with blessed with many gifts including one of charm that could not be resisted.
As this little girl grew to a young child her parents began to notice odd things in her progression. Now to most parents this would have been cause for concern, but not for them they gave her the support and strength to accept it; even when the days came that it was clear she was nothing like the other kids. She played with spiders in her hair and kept imaginary friends in the basket of her bicycles long past the age that is acceptable by doctor's standards. At such a young age she never cared or understood what all the fuss was about; but her parents kept close watch protecting her close from the world most children are exposed too.
For many blessed with this condition they would have grown spoiled and rotten, but for her it just made her heart grow bigger and bigger welling up with excitement and surprise; never giving up just how magical the world was even when no one else could see it. And Noir soon grew into adolescence, that age when kids start to change from purity of their youth and allow themselves to accept the pressures and ridicules of friends. On occasions she would find herself back visiting with grandma who helped her through the times she couldn't understand it or started to regret it.
It was established early on between granddaughter and grandmother that this secret was never to be spoke of in detail, even with mom and dad. It was a girls secret passed down from Eve that only the two of them could ever know, in part to keep it special and in part because it was well known among the two tribes that became twelve the power this gift held, setting among them the evil seed of deception and pride trying to steal it from those blessed by it.
When she did not have grandma to talk to her about it, there were only her invisible friends to help reason it out, after all grandma said they were all right as long as she learned to keep them secret as she got older or their would certainly be trouble for her and everyone that could not understand a connection so close to a world that didn't exist, one that no one else could see, save the sons and daughters held in the bosom Abraham.
Just before her teen years began strange things began to happen to Noir, things that were often just excused as the changes a girl goes through as she gets older, but Noir knew this was different then any of her friends at school would speak of and often she found herself putting on the face of laughter and agreement with them to placate there senses, but inside she only sunk deeper into her spirits making her feel odd and alone in this crowded world of so many.
When these feeling began to take over, she started writing words and poems to help express the thoughts she could tell no one else about; she could always offer them to heaven, stuck in a box under her bed she'd kept them hoping one day those prayers would come true. And with little guidance to guide her journey through it, as is way for any true Hebrew child.
As time went on and the voices of her soul got louder and louder she began to dream big things and convinced herself this gift of magic of hers was meant to take her on a journey through the stars as she had learned that some of them. especially the founders of places like Hollywood, knew well of the gift with which no one ever spoke, it was just understood.
She began to harness the voices of those spirits she could hear and mark their words into poems, the strongest ones were those she could relate so close to in their feelings. It was not just radio or televisions that ushered them in, she sometimes became so enthralled with the words of a book or story that more than once she fell of her seat while reading them. As if the symbols on the page wrapped her in a blanket pulling her into the scene.
Using the talent and putting in much hard work trying to develop the skill and practice it took, it was not long before she found herself cast into the lion's den of life, believing that those around her too understood just where all those gifts of music she made came from, not realizing that most of them had no clue, they just sought to exploit it for there dreams of gold and chains at her expense. And although it hurt from a distance as every grown member of a tribe knows, she had to learn it for herself.
What she never knew and no one told her before that some of those things she wrote and sang weren't meant for her to take, they were someone else's breath from God above, but as a child even He couldn't fault a child acting through the courage of innocence.
[So, that's where we will leave this little girl Noir tonight, wrapped in the cocoon of her dreams, no where near ready to become a butterfly yet. Knocking on the door of a trouble all teenagers must walk through, and some never return, learning that more people are built in this world to hurt rather than love and comforted still by the fact that a knight donned in blue and gold would rush in one day and take her away from the madness that had begun]
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[And so devil's of delight of the night, let's take some time to see if we can leave Noir in a beat of peace as we bring these short pages of story to some sort of close before resting a while in summer sun].
Now for Noirs part, from all outward appearances things were going great. As the success and connections grew bigger and bigger it got easier accepting that not so good feeling one gets when they find themselves thrust into life so young. Learning to accept that it was just how business is done. Even more assured by some around her that encouraged deceits, for so long had love been anything exciting to talk or discuss in the world; the only way the money would come is to make sport of it having fun with anyone who still thinks that it could exist. Sure their were rules, which make it easier to justify in self-righteous eye. Exposed to people who believe that their bank account made them God and to prove it they'd shower down gifts and trinkets of insignificance to crowds and with laughter sit back as the pigeons scurried across the ground to pick them up, like pieces of bread tossed in the grass. A practice only confirmed by the praise pride demands when it forces one to praise the good works done.
Not all around her were like that, for she was also blessed to see a vast majority of people who genuinely cared for the work and tidings they'd give. People who's gifts from the heart really did make a difference never demanding a thing, sitting back silently wrapped in the joy of just being able to do it. And while both sides of the hourglass were given to her that she may see she found herself more and more struggling with the God she'd known from her childhood as life kept leaving the bigger questions she asked unanswered.
And then one day, one day a package arrived. She hadn't seen anything like it in years to her disbelief. Taken back again her heart began to sink, for all those thoughts the evil around her had worked so hard to accept as reality were in question again. In sense a new river flowed in trying to wash her heart. And then after a bit longer, another one did arrive, this one just as curious as the last and while he heart and mind were taken away; the other part of her snapped back. Assured by all that surrounded her that it couldn't be, that in fact it was much worse than she'd thought; it was, what people in her work feared most of all.
She battled their doubts with questions of great range and power, many they could not answer with honest guess. They then brought in their officials and highly educated who are experts in such things, to only confirm what they believed. She read and read them again, certain she hadn't misunderstood, but they all proved to her just how wrong she was and best if she would flee. In that flight they could work more tricks if misconception and ill-conceive notion only to confirm what they wanted to prove against her thoughts. And so the girl Noir disappeared in fear, far from sight. And in the course of the curse they were all sure did await she pulled from her sleeve power she wanted never to use against anyone, but one thing was clear from all the experts and friends, that she had no choice but to do it, for even those most knowledgeable among them with witchcraft agreed and encouraged their assessment of those marked packages.
And as more and more came it only confirmed their conjures of confection trying everything to force from her the last piece of God. But they had missed one particular thought, when she said stop, they all stopped; certainly only God could have known or done that. This angered the crowed around her further as they were closer than ever to gaining full control of her, and with the shine of truth again on her path, the devil would roar hire and hire sinking to new depths in his rumblings of men all to ensure that Noir would forever be part of his family. Securing another spot in the devil's wall of fame, claiming the mark of greatness in history for another family's name.
And after some time Noir began to carry on again, picking up where she'd left off, throwing back stronger and more powerful magic then she'd ever used before. Telling herself she'd see just which is right, and the more fire she hurled and magic that turned to greater heights the devil took her still further away. You see many of the mysteries of the Jews had been construed and perverted by many of those around who claimed to behold of it's beauty and truth; she had never seen just how sick some of those other tribe members would get just praying to claim victory over defeat in a battle that was only ever inside just themselves, to blind and angry with life to focus on them, only seeking to steal oil from the lamps of those who can see.
[And so that shall leave you well enough my friends to Noir's end. She is stuck casting and fighting back the evil that abounds her in her final breath of belief. Holding on to what truth she has left; part of her starting to accept that gifts are just tricks anyone can do. As for me my friends I am not sure if I will pick this up any more, as there is much more I could and do have to write, but as for now with all those handcuffs of life bogging me down it makes the obligation uncertain - as I sit staring at approximately eleven thumdrives and cards now seemingly rendered useless, loss of works started unable to work on, some dating back to a time when orange string shoes were all I had for bindings. Papers shuffled about, some taken for other's use, and a plethora of phone and internet problems I was told nothing can be done about, but like Noir, I refuse to believe that - and so those things must command a bit more of my time - Rest Easy You Masters of Beasts #luvpogl]
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[And so now let us gather livers of lies, for father Lucifer has called us back under the light of the morning star to discover just what today will might bring for the girl Noir (Noah's wife's apparent name if anyone cares about real lessons in some of the words we read) we left last night; just starting the enchantment of life having bigger and better things laid before her feet]
Let's us see, it seems that heart of her grew welling filled with love when she was young, and threw the teen years it got stronger and worse then it seemed to be for her friends. She couldn't understand all the boys in her school and neighborhood, they played faces of characters of which they never knew or understood, in some the acting attracted her senses of mystery and dreaming. They pulled cards from hands of people so obscured to teenage thoughts and claimed them as theirs that it often impressed her, enticing her in; believing all the more in God and the miracles of love, surprised at just how flourishing it was all around her.
But, when she'd rush in with wide eye surprise offering her requited thoughts; those boys do like all boys and turned into something worse then the images they portrayed to everyone else. Noir took the first few punches to her heart in stride and chalked it up to growing up, the troubles of a girl looking for her place in this world. In her room the voices of friends she heard started helping her and soon a box of notes filled higher and higher until one day a song of hers was carried into the ear of someone who schemed to make money from a girl with thoughts like hers, by a little bluebird that led him to her. This sparked into her mind some bigger things taking some love from her heart.
Absolutely! This is how it must work she thought, I wasn't made to be just a woman to some man; I would achieve a bit of my own status, attracting the men and then I can forget about these boys. And she used those feelings so strong and put out song after song. The money and fame rolling uncontrollably in, she was stirred up to new heights like the devil does when he wanted to hold Him high up for everyone to see the disgrace he'd become and laugh at His refusal to accept the gifts of man and this Earth in return for forsaking man. She shot high in starts like an arrow slung from the bows of ancient lore.
As the journey's began it was all so much fun and everything was new and interesting by now she knew God was sending her on the path to find that love she sung in. The love he promised her in her prayers when she was so young, the kind that bends with the wind, not those that die in cafe's and diner's at the end of one way streets. Telling herself, reassured by friends, just how perfect she had been, no other girl could be as true as she to God and the cries. Further and further isolating herself in the few "off" times. As the first few years went by that heart of hers that grew up pouring out love, it was getting empty and there wasn't left for her to write songs about.
Those exciting years went quickly by and set on her course she was told time after time by those voices, not to quit, success and answers to your prayers are just around the corner. Get back up, but by the third album the feeling was gone sending her deeper into "alone". Seeing the melancholy miss, some people got together and decided they had too much money vested in her to let her stop. And so she, started attacking the music like a game, succumbing to the formula of corporate streams. At first for her it felt a bit like cheating, someone so hungry to get the feelings out in her own words; but the success couldn't stop; God wouldn't want to see her fail. After all it was Him who sent her on the path, and she'd done so well by His words even giving more back then she thought some deserved.
And so she started mixing more and more things that had no emotional attachment to, but was shown as love. Seeming to fit in the story's she wanted to tell (this "formula" is part of the reason a lot of songs make no real sense, or are entirely out of place in the song or context). The success continued to grow, more and more the people roared but at the end of the day when she'd go home and sit down she realized more and more just how much more alone she was that what all the money and prized were supposed to bring.
Her solace only taken in the escapement of patients rooms at the Children's Hospitals and other children. Kids she knew didn't seem to care, especially the babies, they saw her as anyone else; relief from the world of fake her days had become. What God was telling her in those moments she couldn't hear or feel, the ruminations of the minds had robbed her dreams. The heart grew darker and darker inside, encouraged by the people who "knew" that the games and formulas they play with fan's is all right. It didn't matter since they "didn't know" or "never knew" except some of her closest friends, but like al Rumor's tasks, when more than one knows then everyone knows the gossip. The games meant more money, some friends of hers got luck and everyone was happy so it'd be all right, setting our young lady Noir right back to the music.
Life for everyone around her kept moving on into greater things, but every time she looked down at her feet only thinking "I am where I've always been only with feelings to far gone to ever live again". Instead of say to herself like a real magical girl "I'm right where I'm supposed to be". The hurt turned into anger and mockery of herself in someway hoping to be washed clean from filth that had coated her soul.
But, it didn't seem to change a thing she just started believing that this is just the way things are her business is vicious, the voices and magic her grandmother had told her about were just like the Holiday Hallmark Cards another Hollywood sales pitches to sell more things.
[And so we'll leave Noir resting with her empty heart and castles of sand, starting to see the world around her through the eyes of a young woman, but it leaves me to wonder if....
...she kept studying would have learned that even before Hollywood and Formulas were the Jews and that book has not one lie, just over 1000 pages of truth - never done in history before or sense. And would that have helped if not for just one more day. As for me mockers of love, failures of the new romantics class I must play for a bit until sleep - maybe tomorrow or the next we'll bring this story of just a boy from somewhere, anywhere USA and a girl driving a Maserati down a one way street, to an end; but remember stories of tragedy are in truth never ending].
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[Let us see what the mind can conceive this rainy Nashville eve for those masters of madness that keep us awake during the quiet hours of sleep. Certainly Job has a a story three or four with truths hidden close to keep something fresh on this media of the mundane.]
It was in those early high school years the Job had worked to get his first steed. A quarter horse dressed in gold took him on adventures at his pleasure. And on those long rides under the day and night skies he's find himself in conversation with storytellers he'd meet along the way. As his days were still young he listened close to their tales of spirit enraptured by the care and caution they put into their creative lessons left for all of us. He found himself at times dining with a feast of friends of the highest kind. The threw words and concepts of higher thought into the mix that confuses most, listening and absorbing the words and the stories they spun with a mystical approach focused close to glean what he could from those teachers of love, pain, ourselves and truth.
Marking words in his mind to look them up when he could in hopes of better understanding of what they were trying to tell him. Through those practices of puzzle progression he was exposed to greater men and women of thought, ideas and concepts that transform not just the command of words one could use, but also brought with them a magic to transcend the soul. At times replaying the stories in his mind with new understanding that gave these lessons new meanings and new understandings then those that were introduced when initially spoken to him.
While the concepts of words on the pages he read melded with the medley the poets would sing. A world of possibilities opened up to him, all fostered from a young age in large part because of the care and love the hand of his mother had shown him through all those times she forced him to "tell her what it means" when he didn't understand something he'd read or seen. The discussion she'd pull him aside and offer in private, ones he didn't like but always made him think. Little lessons that often seemed to leave out the other ear, but were stuck deeper than known. That's another benefit of mom's not being able to catch cooties, if you listen and think through the touch of a mother's love, even in your anger you find, some sooner, some later, in life that they are probably one of the wisest people that will ever guide your path.
And during these short years of a boys life, adventuring and living were the focus of Job's life. He was determined to find the answers that kept him in wonder from the time of a child. The times he was younger and had trouble sitting still and it was demanded of him at the cost of physical punishment (not abuse, punishment), like when his mom had pulled out the Family Bible with pages gilded with gold; taken from a box it seemed to command reverence. And while everyone gathered around the table with excitement and surprise, he struggled to understand if it was a book, why was kept in secret instead of out so everyone could read it? After mom had thumbed through to find the photos and baby information she had been looking for, she offered those things to the other kids as they ran off to play. In the safety of the silence he opened his mouth and asked her "what makes this book more important than the rest?". And she smiled and said, "well, it contains everything man knows about life, from the beginning until now".
Flabbergasted by this answer for a boy of not much more than eight or seven he just knew it should have been bigger if that were true. But, when he mentioned it to her, she just laughed and said, "yep, you'd think it would, but it doesn't need to be". Fumbling through the pages and not a child to shy from a challenge Job stopped on a few pages in the book and tried to read them with all the words and skills he'd learned in school, and although it made no sense what he said, he read the few passages pretty good for a kid he thought. But, King James spoke a different language in the 1500's and a lot of the words he used sounded funny and it was clear they talked funny back then, not like the smart kids of today do. And with a smile, mom decided it was time to put the book back, but not before the mystical burning of the spirits of the past placed in his heart. Like his mom told him when he couldn't understand them or other things she would just say "when you are older you will (happy Mother's Day ALL). A statement that he always hated, after all he was already ten how much older did one need to be, as school had taught him the things of this world.
Like most kids in public school today Job got most of his education of the world outside the walls of the safety of home. As with the parents of today, who can't talk to their kids admonishing their thoughts or ridiculing their beliefs guiding their principles, after all kids are seen more as the chance to make a "better them" then become unique adults of their own (another gift of the Jews, given to parents before even the Bible was writ).
And kids find UN-fun nature all too boring of their responsible responses, so at some both sides decide it's best not to talk of private matters. Even more true is this should you have brothers and sisters, aside from not hearing what you want from your parents, it is certain you will have to listen to the ridicule of them, who will certainly call on the fleetest of footed servants of Zeus, we call Rumor today. Carrying these things to extended family and friends and eventually back to school.
Respect for people long having left the lessons of home, no matter how hard mom may have tried., Rumor has left the fund of her damage as something more fun to play then wisdom and truth could bring with them. So most the world is taught on the playground or with friends at sleep overs and such reinforcing to kids when they hear some of the things that are heard; certainly parents don't know anything about life, because they never did or talked about that. The televisions shows and movies only confirming that the kids at school or more right then their parents about life.
But, while everyone kept pointing back and forth at whose fault is whose Job learned young that sometimes its better to sit above the chaos than make yourself a part of it, the storytellers he'd meet offered that, to some extent even giving more pieces of the puzzles he needed in figuring out the bigger pictures of life that still plagued him as a child - like looking up at the cross and seeing an innocent man hang when his eyes were supposed to be hung in prayer, wondering if this is really what Jesus wants from us?
With all these personal issues to resolve it's easy to understand why during those graduation days as all his friends he say go off to college or move on to the bigger things they had been waiting for the exciting day when Seniors unofficially officially become adults. Sur, those around him pushed and encouraged, even making some attempts, but all that time in school, when the results came back his marks confirmed what everyone did expect, his slowness and lack of intelligence was confirmed, he'd be luck to pick up trash. And soon the universities around him sent letters declaring the same seats needed to be saved for those blessed to succeed, he should find something else they said. Tucking them under his bed he just kept on adventuring and exploring the things around him.
And some months after graduation when the fight and fuss of futures died down, Job took a trip in the middle of the day, one he'd never come back from. An exploration that would take him around the world, introduce him to people and places filled with members of the other twelve tribe that those two at the begging of time grew to become. He saw things some should never have to, things that some should never miss, experienced feelings that most will never comprehend, and feelings that everyone should, always remembering it to be just a sampling of what others had been through. Time and travels increasing the voices etched on that tape recorder of life were all born with, only the needle on his seemed to play a direct line to the heart; expressions men and women learn how not to feel.
[And so I believe we shall leave Job with this long winded post tonight, traveling down the road of life. Gathering more pieces to the puzzle of life. Only beginning the solo journey of just how alone everyone is and discovering how much more pain there is in truth than in lies. All the while his heart going filling more and more with love, pushing out the pride of youth that makes us invincible when where young]
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[And so what kind of beast would I be little minstrels of truth, to leave you plagued with Jobs worries, neglecting that little girl Noir and the dreams she was starting to sing, believing in her heart that they could come true.]
Now, what little girls are never told and mom's can't speak of because they don't carry the disease of cooties; is that with the misaligned genes comes emotions so strong and confusing it hard to control and keep it her secret. Accepted by society as just an understanding that because their girls their expected to over emotional and foolishly led down stray paths.
It also happens to be that because of the disease some girls are stricken with they age faster than boys, not in Earth years, but in God's time they grow and mature at faster rates. This confuses doctors and scientists of the Earth, as they study to figure out why the life span of women is a few years behind men. It's not they they die young, but that God commands that they return early for their age is advanced [And this my friends agrees with the Chinese philosophy as well in their assignment of numbers and whether they be "he" or "she", "yin" and "Yang" if you will].
That little girl we've only just met during her adolescence began experiencing strange occurrences only she seemed to see. Uncontrollably she wrote down all that her mind spoke about how her heart felt. Surrounded by the protection of white picket fences and all the advantages that financial esteem bring upon a family in any community she stayed protected from the evil that lurks through the papers and television screens, or was she? God has a funny way of using the devil to work his messages. Raised in reality covered by privilege she saw those dreams she thought began to work their magic inside of her.
Oh yes, she too was blessed with adventures like Job sought. For her over land though did not her spirits rise, but rather from heart the home of Aphrodite, the sea. Her father in secret from birth raged wild in spirit too and when she was a bit bigger he revealed to her a secret vessel crafted by the hands of Neptune himself. And as they made their way to the waters edge she was amazed by seahorses that came bubbling up from that watery ground. "Your chariot awaits, my lady" he said while lifting her in and at the command of his hand, the sea horse sped the chariot off. Unable to control the smile that came across her lips, she closed her eyes and let herself fly with the wind as they skipped across the waters top.
Noir found a world she'd never knew existed that day, a magical world she beheld as she stood with the sand in her toes and wave lapping at her knees. Exploring the creatures and things that inhabited that world no one else knew was there. Adventures that were far to few, but more than enough for her to learn to breath instead of drown when the waters are high all around.
As the Earth continued in its spin, so to did the adventures he's take her one, but none, none like the sea running its hands through her hair. The things this little girl experienced made school not as easy as it was for the other kids. But she found ways to fit in with cliques that she never really felt she belonged. It was necessary as the experts and society teaches us, a child who seeks to grow within themselves is anti-social and bad for society; the kind of thing that breeds killers and psychopaths.
No on one wanting that fate to become theirs, she found camaraderie among the security of those who hide from life in the activities designed to encourage the subjects of art. Believing most of them too, were just like her. She struggled in silence there too wondering why she couldn't figure out, how it was so much easier for everyone else. And because it's something that can never be fully explained she had no one to show her the difference between developing magical talent and mimicked motions most are eager to accept. For them music is red, it flows from without to within, which some copy and act, but for a few like her it is blue, it flows from within out to the world.
Over time she would witness their ability to be just as the others they clambered in protection from at school. Cliques that didn't look or act as they thought "special" enough targeted by ignorance. She too would succumb to engaging in prideful claims and snide remarks assuring dominance of one group over another. Encouraged only by the reassurance of friends she would never let them see how she wrestled with the pains of sickness that make a stomach twist when God is telling them its done something wrong. Most are never taught that this is the spirit of God trying to correct them, by this age of understanding most people have come to accept that they are in fact just animals, nothing sets them apart; and God is like Santa Clause, a story to enjoy but nothing to act upon, except Sundays when everyone else is watching them in church.
And the school years turned into high school years, the daydreams of heroes and knights swiftly pulling her mind from the dull drums of class; looking, studying and comparing the guys in class. Wondering which one of them understood and could see. And as body caught up with her age, there were some that glanced back on occasion her thought wondering if maybe it was them. And on occasion she found herself in their company for a short time only to realize that no shining armor did they wear, far from it in fact which only further attacked at her spirit.
Soon all the joy and pain she had felt poured out of her chest and with those pieces of notes she gained the attention of those designed to exploit. Actions which reignited her belief in the magic and reassured her that in fact God was working when she couldn't feel it. And the whirlwind of life wisp her away landing her on the biggest stages to be seen. Where she could play those feelings out, and her mind so pure and beautiful thought to herself "with so much of crowd, certainly that knight was out there listening" he would hear her and find his way back from being lost. Who says it can't bring you love she thought to herself. But as often the way God works, it's his time not ours that miracles work. But, being so young and trying to force the forces that we can not as all kids do regardless of status and statue she started to get discouraged and let her mind begin to accept the thoughts those around her wanted to impress. Her strength was starting to wane, unable to tap from the reservoir of life, her heart suffocating from all the bricks they had thrown.
[And so for now the morning that was night has now slipped into after noon and this is where we shall leave Noir set. Wrestling and battling to figure out, if all of this had been God, why wasn't he answering her heart? And soon again we shall return to pick up the story of this girl and that boy, both in the prime of youth, society calls young adults; but in the time of the Jew, it is well understood that only know are they starting to escape childhood - for time is all we have, but time is by design a tool from the hand that he who wields a pitchfork inflicted upon man]
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[Well Minions of mayhem, let us turn day into night and continue to stitch this patchwork of words, picking up once again where we left off last eve. I believe the young boy Job had just heard the secret of the wind from grandfather and the special things it blows in.]
And one bright summer day around second grade he sat staring at out the window from the back of the class. The sun was shining so high in the sky, he could only imagine all things he could do if only he wasn't confined to that classroom. In those days there was no conditioned air for the classrooms, only a few windows that partially opened meant more to unsettle the air then usher in the cool freedom of the wind. His continued to imagine all the worlds that needed to be explored and lands he could conquer if only that bell would ring to open the gates of prison.
That last day of the school year seemed longer than most, broken up by the games the teacher had planned. Dazzled by the brilliance of the suns rays as they broke the window sash, a mysterious dark figured broke his trance. A shadow moved within his range of vision just as the wind gust through the crack in that window, feeling it rush against the pieces of hair that overlapped his ears. It was in that moment the sun grabbed hold of her hair, it turns out that shadowy figure was a girl. His eyes were astonished by the figure before him, sure he'd seen girls before his mom and sisters were girls and there were ones his age all over the place in school, but they never looked like this one before just as the wind made a final roar.
Mesmerized by the glow radiating from the strands of blond hair in the dance it was making with the sun. His thoughts forgot all about the lands to be won, he'd found something more captivating than even capturing a triceratops. Those seconds that dress themselves in the drapes of hours made time stand still for what his mind thought felt like an eternity. An alarm began to ring inside of his mind bringing him back from stray thoughts. Glancing quickly across the room he was nervously anxious to to see if anyone had noticed his lack of attention wasn't on them.
More important than ignoring the teacher in class, he had to find out if any of his friends had noticed him staring at the figure of a girl who by now was surrounded by friends. Certainly it would be the death of him if they knew; sympathy for the enemy was something that just could not stand among young men. He'd be stricken from society for ever had they caught him involved with a crime as serious as this; forever burned by the mark so all would see his sympathy for the devil.
One thing was certain, wisdom all boys that age are just born with is the commandment from heaven, that girls are icky. Aliens from a universe sent to destroy the world with cooties. A disease that's so bad and can end any boys chances of ever having fun again. It even causes some to be bed ridden the rest of their life, but this was rare and extreme as it could only be that bad if it was caught by the worst possible way; everyone knew it's what happens if a girl kisses you on the cheek.
Even worse was that sisters too were contagious, which meant not even home was safe. Sugar and spice was just something big people told you to hide the hideousness of it, no one could understand just how dangerous a boys life really was. Just then a loud ring startled the class and a friend was grabbing his shoulder so they could run out to the bus. The last day of school was in fact the first day of summer, and no homework or next day morning rush meant more hours of adventure under a sun that kept its eyes open longer than on winter nights.
As time lingered on and the boy aged from infancy into adolescence he often grew bored and overly anxious too quick. In school classrooms he tried to be smart, but he was often riddled with laugh. Teachers time and time again explaining to him that he just didn't get, his questions made no sense. He needed to apply himself more so one day he could be important and leaving his seat to disturb others just couldn't be tolerated, he was a bother. Most of the things he just ignored, he came to accept that they didn't understand him and that was all right because he didn't understand most of them.
At home often he found himself bored even with a room full of toys, fun for a while, he knew they were just plastic; nothing real or of substance as the journeys he and grandfather wandered. It was becoming more clear to other family members that Job was not going to be super intelligent in the traditional sense nor did he have imagination and talent their genius demonstrated. At times causing divisions that he was happy to accept, after all when he looked back at them, he noticed no life in their living at all; enthralled more with gossip and false visions, Job discerned that must be the curse they cried as result of their gift.
This boy was more fortunate than most, as his mother too was a Jew with skills that could reach heaven. Like all mother's know, regardless of what kids think or believe, by nature one child they can not love more. And in those times when friends could not play and there seemed nothing to do, it's in those times his short talks with mom gave him instruction and guidance far beyond ken. At first he never understood why she always mad him work, while the other children seemed to enjoy some type of relief from simple t. hings like looking words up. Adding to the derision was his constant lack attention, never finishing the books they made him start; he could not understand why all those pages only to reach the end of someone else's story, the boredom taught him some tricks to help him cover up his school work.
Now these two extremes made Jobs brain even more confused so often he sat quiet away from the chaos as he grew. His lack of effort in school put him in classes outside the norm, never getting schedules that synced up with friends. In the spare time between he was always in the library, often skipping lunch just to skip through thoughts that others wrote. And it was in those moments he could hear voices disguised as reflections.
When classes were done he often thought about what adventure grandfather would have next when and if they ever came to visit. In those moments too he was always given unspoken rules. Never excluded he did watch favoritism rule as often can be witnessed behind the actions of made of faces and plastic events. Always stepping in at just the right moment, mother, grandfather or grandmother to relieve the pressures of fake moments. Teaching him too to accept a view of things he could not understand.
Then one day in the early teen days he received a gift that would alter life more drastic. See music had always been in the family, but since he couldn't understand or read the technicalities he was dismissed as something for him. So often he was left without the privilege of sharing in the noise that came from those records as his brother and sisters huddled together to listen. But, this made it all different he was given an old broken box that played radio and had a slot for tapes if he ever got. And when he plugged it in to listen in his room, everyone jumped in telling him he needed to hear this or that, songs he did not get. But, when they weren't around, he fumbled the dials up and down until something came through that seemed to speak to him.
When it first happened he was startled by the magic, but knew he had to keep silent or straight jacket crazy they would have rushed him off. It was amusing to hear people speak with a sound that seemed to reach in and grab him by the heart. Just like the words in the books of thoughts he skimmed those words wrapping in his head as they jumped of the page; now their were sounds and voice that pulled him in the same. The days and time went by as they do, lost in the voices that words and notes carry with them; it was something that can only be experienced and never understood, how those words turned into living things either by writing or hearing them sing.
Soon in his quest a new freedom with which he was blessed, given a license to drive he worked to by his own first chariot. He knew this would once again give him the freedom to add new adventures on his list, ones to share with grandfather whenever they got the chance. And so with high school days at hand half his time was spent doing things with friends that all kids do, sometimes things that kids shouldn't do, but do too. Trips that took him down places and meeting faces of all different sorts, some even covered with a nefarious mask.
[And so for this night that has become day, we shall leave Job in this state. Here a young man riding the wind of white horses and chariots, navigating the world around him navigating situations and experiences all of life's happenings some good, but many what most people call bad. Outward appearances casting him hands with the devil, realizing that gold is not all that glitters].
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Now it would be rude of me to leave these beautiful minions on the edge of their seat wondering what happened to that boy child baptized by fire last night. After all who only want to dream about a magical girl? Well, maybe that boy, but lets see how he is progressing as he walks the eras or ages of youth.
As the warm summer night came to a close in smalltown, nowhere USA the sound of bluebirds singing pierced the windows of the house as the aroma of sausage and eggs filled the coolness of the conditioned air at grandma and grandpa's house. One son arrived in mom's arms, the youngest who'd been crying the night before. Unwilling to sleep she took him to bed with them so she could get some sleep, while the other boy sat gazing in space, the mark of Cain draped over him. The boys this day would be given names, as that was the first order to discuss at the breakfast table.
It was decided with pleasure and happiness by all that the youngest child wrapped in moms arms would be called Jacob and for the boy held long above the flames, he was blessed and called Job while he lay in his father's arms; Job a derivative of Jubal that has long been lost in the traditions of the Hebrew, lost to the hands that scattered them to the four winds. With the coronation of them complete the family packed their things and left for their home that rested at the end of a dead end street they lived.
For most of the early years the boys were displayed like proud treasures by their sisters and parents to their friends, but soon as the began to walk life grabbed each by the hand and walked them down different paths as was God's plan for the both of them. Now their grandfather who was closer to God then anyone would know or admit, his father Leo from the tribe of high priests that claim Jesus as their direct teacher in all things holy of which today none no longer exist with the passing of him, but as the legend as always held true from the beginning of time, it does not mean that once again one will never rise.
The grandfather for his part did never discuss with any of the children or grandchildren the secrets or mysteries of heaven; he knew as he had been shown and taught that for it to be honestly from the Hand of Heaven it must be left to be found by chance from those that were blessed. After all God calls all of His children as He sees fit, not as parents want done. And he also was aware that among the family rumors and jealousy began to stir at the thought of great riches bestowed on them for doing nothing, but claim something that belonged to no one and really wasn't theirs.
[I have expanded this part a bit, but for here I will leave it an empty piece, to be filled at his desire should His plan grant it. For the things I post to @tumblr and other social media are meant to be read and shared, hoping to inspire derivatives for those who understand. Aware that some will bite and take with no regards to the skill or ability it really takes; this blank leaves in part a trap to bare witness off their sins].
On occasion the children would visit the grandparent that lived so far away, one eager to go on adventures and explore the world and grandfather was more than happy to accommodate the youthful vigor as he always had done. Hikes across the country and waterway adventures that only Mark Twain could speak of and make Lewis & Clark jealous. And in all those experiences with him, the boy Job only ever saw him stand silent, resting on his staff as the winds of the skies seemed to talk to him and take him somewhere far beyond.
The other child, Jacob although he would venture away now and again with the other kids on those trips, he like so many others were more enraptured by the comfort of four walls and sought comfort in the home, spending his days trying to discover and learn the secrets of dreams he'd never seen. His mother and father in some way coaching and encouraging his success as did some of the parents of cousins all hoping to receive the wages of gold for the blessing they felt was deserved. Given words and tasks to flaunt in front of grandma and grandpa seeking recognition of their holiness. And with love and kindness each were applauded and appreciated with their attempts and some even received professional accolades for the works of their attempts.
Job however seemed little interested in the pomp and circumstance that seemed to be displayed and flaunted; often reassured by the others that it was simply because he could not understand, he was after all, slower than the rest. Not blessed with or plagued by genius of any form, but it would be OK; they often stated empty consoles jabbed to attack his spirit and the pride he took in just living and being a kid. Letting him know in fact that he should feel lucky to not have been cursed with the struggles and talents such gifts they self-proclaimed to the world.
Instead Job spent some time chasing the wind that seemed to take his grandfather away when they hiked, even asking one time where it was that he went when he was lost with his chin on his staff. On one of those magical journeys through the woods of life, Job approached his grandfather and asked where he went as he stood there, his chin resting on his staff. His grandfather looked down surprised and seeing the others far off, just smiled and said "do you feel that son?" "Feel what?" Job asked. He smiled and said they call it the breeze, do you feel it across your cheeks, Job said "yeah"; his grandfather said "just remember when ever you're alone and feel that wind across your cheeks, that's God sending you the kiss of a pretty girl". "Like grandma? Job laughed, and so did grandfather did too. He said "yes, just like grandma" now what do you say we finish this hike and get back home to them. Not wanting to go, he accepted that journey was done as grandfather called the other kids to make their way back.
It was the miracle of lessons like that that kept Job silent and wrapped in the words of ancients as he grew, the voices of their spirits pouring through his heart and soul. Knowing just how different the words would start to impact him, when they started to speak it drove him further and further into the stacks, never attention to read all, but finding the owners of voices that came, teaching him to find his own. Always quiet, an emptiness inside him he realized those around him would not feel.
Understanding the things that he thought were not apparently correct as so many of the friends and children he played with attacked these very things and he watched as his brother was poked, prodded and subjected at request by specialist and doctor's who sought to explain what was wrong with him. And soon the boys too would enter the days of second, third and fourth grade and it was in those first few classrooms that Job would experience a feeling so deep for nothing he'd known or felt, but would hurt when she left.
[So I've stricken from this record statements that found a place before their time and to continue would jumble the thoughts of some screaming nonsense; forgetting, this is just a scratchpad, words typed on a whim to record memories to be shared by the wind. Let us then leave the two brothers there for now this night and see what tomorrow brings. I imagine that while we find a bit more about this girl and this boy and the two paths they take, on left and one right as it was called before given the words east and west in this world. Rest easy minions, I'm sure if magic is at work, the comfort and peace of these beautiful scenes will not last, after all how will you know you are blessed unless you experience true tragedies on your walk?]
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[I read part of a story just recently where one of the characters offered the claim that all children dream of their birth, and if you want to know something of them just ask them about their birth. Although I thrown crafted words at the imagery before, it was meant more as words to just carry the story to more important things, nothing creative or substantial. Words meant to impress on the mind equal no scare meant with intent. I thought this an interesting position though as I had never really thought about a story behind it before; so then on my walk today, I began to find a thread that would add a seam to others I have already stitched and sewed. All pieces in a quilt meant for someone else; that is one of the mysteries of God, He'll take what you hate, turn it into love, then tell you to give it away, just so he can see how faithful you'll believe I think. Let's see how this looks now, and although it's not the story of my birth, it is a story about a boy and a girl that helps fill in some of the missing pieces.]
In this minstrel of life, lets start at the beginning and tell this story, about a boy child and girl child and just how they become…
...on a dark stormy night, the thunder pounding louder than normal in small town, anywhere USA a lady born of fire went into labor. Familiar with the pangs of birth something inside her trembled; something was wrong, this was just different. Rushed to the hospital there were some complications during birth, but what could be expected when their were born twins when there should have only been one. The doctor being highly skilled with his hands though made sure that no life was lost that night and not long after mom and dad returned home with both boys in hand.
Excited by the news the family couldn't wait to see the new additions to the family, and not long after returning to a shack in the middle of nowhere at the end of run down street; the family packed up and rushed of with all the kids kids to visit newly christened aunts, uncles and grandparents. Settling into the new mother's childhood home, kids resting in sleep as all babies do when their not eating or being changed, mother and father sat down for a well deserved visit with her family from the past. The days slipped by through the week they spent and before it, a few card games later the night before they left had finally come. As the afternoon slipped into the dark of night under the chirp of cicadas they all made their way to bed.
Something stirred in the house that night, a spirit that had never been present before slipped in under the door at the command of one who lived there; knowing the time had come. As the entire house sat silent in the dead of night feeling almost like Christmas Eve on that hot summer night; the grandfather awoke, quietly slipping out of bed and into the room where both boys slept. Standing atop their cribs he stirred back and forth, lost in the miracle of life when his soul began to cry. Both children lay silent staring up at him as he ran the aged fingers down the crowns of their heads. Everything was at peace, but the gift they had yet to receive. He took hold of both boys in each arm; their premature size making it easier to accommodate both boys at once.
And as they lay cooing in his arms, the smile only a grandfather can give came across his lips and with a bit of a twist took form of a most hideous beat. Fire threw itself against the curtains and that little man took a form twice the size of his with the ugliest features only a troll could equal in looks. As the flames in the room grew higher and higher, stoked greater by the force of his brother; one child lay quiet still looking up at him and the other began to stir and get restless. Just then the floor opened up below them nothing but a a pit of raging flames chomped at their feet. The old man grabbed each by their ankle and held them dangling above the flames. Chanting words in a language the world and their experts had long forgot, he held them there as the blaze reached its arms higher and higher approving the sacrifice being offered before them.
Before the old man could finish, the child in his right hand began to scream and cry and the beast quickly tossed him aside. Looking back at the boy still watching in his left with a bit of curiosity, he paused and ran the nail of his finger across his chin and claimed "It is you that shall bear the mark. You are the one that shall die tonight". With a stab of the walking stick he held in his hand the floor shut up at his one word command. The room fell silent again, nothing but the sound of rain and wind pounding at the windows outside in chorus of the other child still crying.
He pulled the boy up from his left foot and as he did this was once again transformed into the little grey bearded man who was their proud grandpa. He held the child close to his chest and whispered softly these words in that ancient tongue:
"In the beginning there were two tribes, male and female under God's love they were. Of those two were born three, one named Abel who died young to become the father and guardian of all children that die young". He continued "from the tribe of Adam though is your line, of which there is ever only one; within you alone runs the blood of the first and the last, marking your holy and sacred past. With this kiss, you shall forever bear the mark of Cain, it is your cross to bear; once I am gone. Forever cursed to walk this Earth. Cast aside from family and friends forever seeking that which was lost in the Eden. This my son is the blessing of the Jew; and may it now be passed on to you".
Hearing mother's footsteps tumbling up the stairs to answer the cries of the child that was still in tears, he placed them both back in their sheets and silently clambered back into bed; his wife asking where he'd gone. "Just to the kitchen dear, I needed another piece of that lamb you prepared this evening it was just so good, and I hadn't had it since I was a child not much older than those two new grandsons.
Mom rushed in and began to coddle the weeping child as the other drifted back into rest, the fear of the dark seemed to bring him ease.
[There is more to this kids, but for now, let's end the story of a boy and see about this special girl that wanders the Earth too.]
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“Some shit about love, or whatever”
What do you say we all take off the costumes and make-up and just sit on the couch wrapped in nothing but each others arms this slow, southern Saturday night....
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