Hiding in Plain Sight

Hiding in Plain Sight






Ah ha!  I just had a brilliant dream... a vision if you will.  It told me about all of the secrets of the universe 🌌.  Well, not exactly, but exactly how the universe operates and what's important.




You see, all this mumbo jumbo about positive thinking and wishing for what you want are actually detrimental.  By blocking out the unpleasant details that you don't want coming near your thoughts you are losing vital information that would later come together as sort of a code to let you know exactly what you need to know.  These pieces don't come out and tell you all at once but are sort of links in a chain.  While seemingly unpleasant at the time, each link fits a later link that will also come to you as something unpleasant so that you don't forget it.  Once you have enough links of the chain, you get the all-important, vital message that can not only give you what you desire but also prevent you from repeating a serious mistake that is part of your personal history.  In some cases, these historical chunks of knowledge are also part of human history which should never, never be repeated.  Once blocked though, you have lost important pieces of the message that the universe wanted you to retain.  It may seem very complicated but it's relatively straightforward. 
This isn't to say that you should constantly dwell on the negative links.  Once received and acknowledged, they will remain in your consciousness enough for you to link it to the next link.  Since they fit together so perfectly, all you need do is acknowledge them and wait for the next link of the message to come along and they will join together like magic.  Don't lose one of those pieces of seemingly negative information though or you will completely lose the message and will be doomed to repeat your failure until such a time until you learn not to try to ignore or hide the pieces of information from your history.




I cannot stress to you the importance of this revelation.  It is not only vital to you but also to all of humanity.  A lesson blocked is a lesson unlearned.  Remember... all of these pieces of information were hiding in plain sight before you decided to erase them from history.


DO
NOT
ERASE!

The Reflecting Pool and

The Reflecting Pool

My grandmother returned to her uncle's plantation home for a final visit before her marriage.  Her mother died in childbirth which led to her being raised in a convent while her dad worked as an engineer on the railroad.  He died on his way to see her engagement ring when his train hit a stretch of bad track.  Her uncle was all the family she had left.
The outside of the plantation home was nothing but painted plywood, the home having been burned by the Yankees after the civil war.  Because they had been treated as sharecroppers, the negroes stayed and continued to work their share of the crops.  The sharecroppers houses out front remained undamaged and were a couple of acres in front of the main house.  Out back, though, the old trees and reflecting pool remained.


My grandmother used to play here with her assigned "servant" whom she merely considered a friend.  As she sat reflecting on those days, a servant about her age approached.  It was Simone, her old friend from her childhood.




My grandmother jumped up and embraced Simone.




"How are you doing, Simone?  It has been forever since I've seen you!"




"I'm doing just fine, Miss Delhomme.  I heard you done got engaged!"




"What's this 'Miss Delhomme' nonsense?  It's Lorraine just lime before.  Yes, I met a man.  His name is Albert Hamilton Tribe.  He performs on the radio in the Rice Hotel in Houston.  He's so dreamy!  He finally popped the question!  See the ring?  Isn't it beautiful?"




Yes, it's beautiful, Miss Lorainne!  I'd better keep the 'Miss' so the master of the house doesn't think I'm being disrespectful to our guests.  What brings you back to Louisiana, Miss Lorraine?"




"Well, as you know, my father died and I just needed the company of some family.  I'm an orphan now, you know."




"Yes, I know.  I'm sorry, Miss Lorrraine.  Let me give you a hug."




They embraced once again and my grandmother started crying on her shoulder.




"There, there, Miss Lorraine.  We're still here for you and you know that your uncle loves you dearly.  Besides, you'll soon be Mrs. Tribe and you'll have a man to look after you."




"Yes, I know.  It's just hard losing my father.  We were so close even though he rarely got to come home.  It's a shame about all of those hobos who died in the wreck.  My dad wasn't supposed to let them ride but he could never turn down a poor person who needed a hand.  My step-mother took all of the money from the train company.  She was always so jealous of me.  Dad had to sneak away to come visit me at the convent."




"It's sad, Miss Lorraine.  She sure weren't mother material.  As much as you hated that convent, you were probably better off than being raised by THAT selfish witch.  I feel for you."




"So, is Uncle Curtis still treating you alright?  Have you married yet?"




"Your Uncle Curtis is treating me just fine.  Things were tight last year because of the bad crops but he saw that we were fed and taken care of.  I sure do miss the extra desert you used to sneak me when you were here when we were young though."




"Haha!  I'll order double again tonight and you'll have your extra dessert."




"Oh, thank you, Miss Lorraine.  It will be just like old times.  Hehe"




"Just like old times.  Now, if you don't mind, could you leave me here alone for awhile?  I have a lot of things to think about at this old reflecting pool."




"Sure thing, Miss Lorraine.  Just ring this bell if you need me.  I'll be sitting in the shack over there catching up on my knitting."




Simone reached in her pocket and pulled out a small, ornate silver bell with an ornate handle and handed it to my grandmother. My grandmother took the bell and put it into her pocket.




"Thank you, Simone."




"My pleasure, Miss Lorraine."




My grandmother turned back to the reflecting pool as Simone walked to the shack.  She stared at the Japanese Carp swimming and floating around the pond and started thinking about her childhood.  She thought about the harp that her real mother owned... and her stepmother despised... and remembered how much she wished that her mother had lived so she could grow up listening to the harp being played as she grew up.  She thought about how much she hated the convent and the cruel nuns who raised her but how much more special that made it she her dad came home to visit.  She thought about how much she missed him and wept awhile.  Her thoughts then turned to her future.  She would soon be married and having children.  She would no longer be mistreated by the Sisters in the convent.  She would leave the church and become a Methodist like her husband.  It was both exciting and scary at the same time.




Ah, the reflecting pool.  She remembered listening to the workers working the fields and singing hymns.  She remembered the feasts after harvest.  She remembered everyone sitting with the workers and eating watermelon on hot days.  It would soon be time to return to her apartment in Houston and get on with the business of planning the wedding.  For now though, she had family and the reflecting pool.

A Coin In the Fountain

A Coin In the Fountain



 

Jack stood at the fountain and sighed. He was over his divorce from his cheating wife and he felt lonely. He had tried asking out women from church but the only ones available were at least ten years older than he was. He didn't have the smooth way of picking up women that most guys seemed to have. All he needed was a break.










 Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out some change. In his hand lay two pennies, one tarnished and the other shiny, a dime, and a quarter.










 "I don't want to be cheap and get a cheap woman so I'll use the quarter" he thought, somewhat amusing himself.










 Jack took the quarter in between his left index finger and thumb then returned the rest of the change to his pocket. He then placed the quarter in his right hand, made a fist around the quarter, and whispered his wish into his fist.








 "I wish for an intelligent, charming, beautiful woman with whom I can share this lovely day."




 He tossed the quarter into the fountain, visualizing the woman he would like to meet. The splash of the quarter in the water brought him out of his visualization.






 Jack looked to his left and saw nothing then turns to the right and started walking to the fence to stare aimlessly at the pond. Just as he took his third step, a woman ran right into him. They both paused, startled. The woman began to speak.






 "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. I beg your pardon."






 "It's no problem at all. I should have been more careful as well."






 They had grabbed each other instinctively to keep from falling and were still holding on. Suddenly their eyes met. It was instant attraction. It was as if their souls had been ripped apart at birth and they finally found each other but both were too shy to be forward about it. Still, the eyes said more than the words ever could have. All at once they noticed that they were still holding each other and slowly and awkwardly let go.






 Jack spoke.


 "I haven't seen you around here before, have I, Ms...?"






 "Jill. My name is Jill. No, I don't believe so. I just came in on a flight from out of town."






 "There's a concert in the park over to the left in a couple hours. Would you like to get something to eat and watch it with me, Jill?"






Jack quickly glanced toward her ring finger.


 "No, I'm not married. What about you? I know that guys sometimes don't wear rings."


 "No, I got divorced a few years ago. Shall we?"

Jack reached out his hand and she put her hand in hers. They started to walk to a nearby restaurant.






 At the restaurant, Jack pulled out Jill's chair for her then seated himself. Jack motioned for a waiter and they ordered. Jack had a confession to make.






 "Jill, you may not believe this but just before we bumped into each other I made a wish at the fountain. I don't normally believe in such things and didn't see anyone around so I started moping over to the pond when we ran into each other. Maybe there's a little magic in that old fountain after all?"






 Jill laughed, "Maybe."






 "Do you believe in fate?"






 "Not really but stranger things have happened. By the way, which group is playing in the park?"






 "Blood, Sweat, and Tears. They're from my high school years but a free concert is a free concert."






 "That's true. Besides, I like them."






 "Wonderful! We should enjoy it then. It's an early concert. It starts at six and will probably end at eight."






 "That will work great for me. If things go well, I might have something we can do afterwards."


 "Such as" asked Jack with his eyebrows raising and lowering.






 "Not that. Haha You'll see."






 Jack and Jill received their orders and began to eat.






 They finished their dinner then headed over to the concert area. Jack walked up behind the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out a styrofoam blanket and a quilt.






 "We're here early enough to get a good spot. I know the best place to set up."






 Jill followed him to the top of a man-made hill and watched as Jack selected the spot. She then helped him lay out the large quilt.






 "Isn't this a bit far back" asked Jill.






 "No, really... this is just the right distance. You'll see when the annoying people in their lawn chairs start to set up and block most peoples' views. This is just far enough back to see over the lawn chairs and just the right location for the best sound."






 "Okay. You're the boss."






 Jack opened up the ice chest and pulled out a can of Sterno and a strange contraption made of a twisted coat hanger. He lit the Sterno and placed the contraption over it. He then pulled out a small aluminum pot and placed a cake of brie in it and set the pot on the homemade pot stand. As the brie started warming, he pulled out a bottle of chardonnay and a wine opener. He produced two wine glasses and handed them to Jill. He then opened the wine and poured. The last item he pulled out of the chest was a box of fancy crackers. Soon the brie would be warm enough to eat.






 The band came on and played hit after hit as Jack and Jill sat on the hill eating their crackers and brie. By the end of the concert, the brie and wine were gone and they stopped for a long, romantic kiss. Afterward, Jack turned to Jill and spake.






 "That was a nice concert, wasn't it?"






 "Oh, wonderful! The refreshments and kissing weren't bad either."






 Jill gave Jack a wink.






 "Well then, Jill. What was this thing that you wanted to do afterwards?"






 "It's a surprise. Get in the car and drive us to the planetarium."






 "The planetarium? That seems an odd surprise."






 They loaded the trunk with the quilt and ice chest and Jack shut the trunk. He then went to the passenger door and let Jill in then went around to the driver's side, got in, and started the car.






 "Off to the planetarium" exclaimed Jack. He really didn't see why they couldn't have walked since it was just a block over.






 "Off to the planetarium!"






 They arrived and Jack parked the car then went around and opened Jill's door for her.




 "So, what's the surprise" asked Jack as he locked and closed her door behind her.




 Jill reached into her purse and pulled out two tickets. Jack still had no idea what they were doing there.






 "Let's get in line" said Jill.






 When they got to the door, the doorman tore the tickets and gave each one of them a ticket. Jack looked at his stub.






 "The Pink Floyd laser light show" Jack exclaimed. "I've always wanted to see this but never took the time!"






 The show was a dazzling set of laser effects set to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon album. By the time the show was over it was getting late.






 Jack turned to Jill and invited her to his place for the night. She agreed.






 It was a thirty minute drive to his place once they got out of downtown Houston. Jill sat next to him and he put his arm around her shoulders as they drove. They had conversations about their hopes and dreams and found so many things they agreed on.
 When they finally reached Jack's house, they went inside. Jack put on some romantic music and sat down on the couch beside Jill. After about thirty minutes of making out, Jack stood up, took Jill by the hand, and led her to the bedroom where they made passionate love. When it was over, Jill turned to Jack and spoke softly to him.






 "That was a wonderful fantasy, wasn't it, darling? What are we going to do for our next anniversary?"

My Family History - A Halloween Tale

My Family History - A Halloween Tale

Ahhhhhh. Welcome my pretties. You are the ones chosen to know the secret. The deep, dark secret of my family history.

As some of you who read my blog regularly know, my grandfather inherited a castle in England. He considered the offer, but eventually declined. Now you will know the REAson he declined.

The Edgar Allen Poe story of “The Pit and the Pendulum was based upon the tale of one of my ancestors in the 1860s. You know I never lie and that eventually I reveal everything. Well, this is no exception. The story, as outlandish as it seems, is much more gruesome than even Poe could have written. As a matter of fact, some of you have seen parts of the story already in one of my compositions when I was nearly driven mad by the escapades of my ex-fiancee'. Yes, there was a pit and there was a pendulum, but there was more. MUCH more.

You see, the tortures were multiple, long, and severe. Yes, there was a doctor involved, but the doctor was there to keep the victim alive through all the tortures. The doctor assisted because the man did not commit adultery with my ancestor's wife. Here is the story:

A foreigner who worked for the Levant Company who had befriended Alexander Wood, noticed her shining beautiful features and her grapefruit breasts. He noticed her dazzling intelligence that had so drawn my ancestor to her. He was jealous that my ancestor was much older than she, so he seduced her with promises of riches. He convinced her that he was old and weak and would soon be unable to please her or care for her and her children. He told lies to her about my ancestor, to make her fearful of him and paid others to tell her lies as well. When she finally agreed to meet the Levant employee, he drugged her, kidnapped her, and forced her to work in his very unusual Gentleman’s club where men paid high prices to mistreat the women he provided in any sadistic manner they desired. He wanted her as a sex slave and vowed to make her bend to his every will.

She was very strong willed, so he started by locking her in a closet for days without food or water, then beating her, then injecting her veins with just enough morphine to kill the pain. He then would rape her and fill her veins with more morphine… enough to give her a pleasurable rush. He would rape her again as she started passing out from the drug. He did this repeatedly over a period of time while my ancestor relentlessly searched for her. As she became more submissive, he brought her out of the closet and bound her. He would start using harsher and harsher sexual methods with her... beating her... thrashing her with a cat o' nine tales... suspending her and raping her... each time, rewarding her with morphine flowing through her veins until she was addicted to both the morphine and the pain. He then started bringing in other men to have their sadistic way with her. He then introduced her to being pleased by women. More and more. Each time he rewarded her with the pleasure of morphine. Each time equating the rush of the pain and fear with the rush of the morphine flowing through her veins. She had tried to escape once, but he forced her to believe that if she ever escaped again, her husband and her whole family would be killed. Finally, she was broken.

After a time, he started easing her off the morphine letting her feel more and more pain. Soon, the pain would feel like the morphine and the morphine was one less expense for him. Sometimes he would give her a choice between the morphine and the pain. When she started choosing pain, he no longer gave her the pleasing drug.


My ancestor sent out the detectives as he watched for her. By the time my ancestor found his wife and had uncovered what all the man had done to her, his wife was near death and her addictions severe. He finally re-captured her, but at her pleadings, he let the Levant company employee go. She thought she was in love with her captor and my ancestor knew it. He had a large enough task trying to get her back to somewhat normal and did not feel that destroying her captor was the best use of his time at the present.

It took my ancestor many years to get her back to some semblance of normal and free her of the horrible addictions that she suffered at the hands of her captor. She never was nor would she be the same woman she once was, but he loved her so deeply that he would not turn her away. To prevent her going mad, he allowed her captor to live because she felt that she had loved her captor. He knew that she was unstable after her harsh, abusive treatment. He had to give her what she needed when she needed it, which was pain. Cruel pain. Over a period of time, he was able to get her back to some semblance of normalcy. Each time he had to hurt her, it turned his stomach, but he continued until she was weaned of always having the need for intense pain for sexual pleasure. He stayed with her and cared for her until her death.

Filled with anger against his wife's captor, there was nothing to stop him for seeking vengeance against the man who had treated his wife so. He would find the man again. His wife would never tell him the man’s name, but did reveal that his name started with an R. Speaking it over with the doctor, they agreed to find the man and set upon him a tortures until he revealed and apologized for all he had done to her and to other women. Rather than going to the authorities and having him put on trial, my ancestor sent out detectives to discover the man's whereabouts.

They discovered one of the man’s handkerchiefs the man had left at scenes where he had abducted a woman. The initial was “R.” One of the detectives was so brilliant that he quickly found her captor by the type of cloth of which the handkerchief was made. It is said that tales of this detective reached Sir Arthur Conan Doyle who wrote about some of this detective‘s cases.

The detective discovered the man’s name and found the woman, but the woman made him promise never to tell my ancestor the name of her captive for fear of what might happen to her family. The detective reluctantly agreed, but told my ancestor that women taken captive in such a manner often think they are in love with their captor and that her mental condition was too unstable for her to see or hear of the man being harmed. This was torturous for my ancestor as he would have loved to wring her captor’s neck right there in front of her.

They tracked the Levant employee back to his lair and watched his movements for a year before they made their move. They wanted to be sure this man did not suspect that he was being watched. When they were sure of their plans, they sent a maiden to offer him a drink. The drink, of course, was laden with morphine... in a large enough quantity to induce sleep... the very drug he had used to addict my ancestor's wife. When the man awoke, he awoke in a very dark place filled with grotesque paintings derived from the tortures of the Spanish Inquisition. He found himself bound and chained, unable to move or to free himself. This picture will give you a little more insight into what it was like when the man awoke in my ancestor's dungeon:

My ancestor started by parading beautiful, naked women in front of him, each one teasing him, then touching him, then pleasing him just enough to make him want more.

"Enjoy this," my ancestor said. "I want you to remember this, the greatest pleasure you will ever know, for it will be your last."

He had the women please each other in front of him over and over until he was groaning for mercy. Then the women started fondling him and caressing him. Then, when he was so tired that he was shivering and shuddering, he had all the women do all they could to please him and send him into the highest state of orgasm he had ever achieved.

My ancestor then paid the women and sent them out of the room, telling them to never speak of the incident. He paid them well enough that they all vowed to keep quiet the rest of their lives. My ancestor then locked the door behind them to prevent anyone from entering or exiting.

"Now," said my ancestor, "remember. You are about to pay for everything you did to my wife and to every other woman you ever laid your scum-laden hands upon."

You can fathom some insight to the tortures that were unleashed upon the man who abused my ancestor's wife as written in my poem:

The Warning
by Cal Jennings

If you should cause one I love harm
You shall be blown like ant from arm
No place shall you be safe and free
Never look back, or you'll find me
No weapon will be strong enough
To protect you from a fate so rough
Nor through time can you escape
I'll be there, too, thou simple ape
No price too high or distance far
No iron gates, nor supercar
Shall let you escape fast enough
Punishment severe, unkind, rough
No cries to Kr'shna, nor Allah will save
Your punk posterior, I'll enslave
I'll torture your mind, body, and soul
No demon god will make you whole
Scorpion stings upon your flesh
Your heart will pump, your tongue will thresh
Then with pliers, your tongue pulled out,
Shall justice punish your evil clout
As you scream unearthly cries
Honey and ants go in your eyes
In your ears, your privates as well
Let you experience your own evil hell
That you have forced on one I love
This only a start from hand of my glove
Within the pit the pendulum swings
One notch closer, it clunks and sings
Its shiny razor in candlelight glitters
Closer and closer it swings and jitters
As river rats tear your ghastly skin
Some candiru to spine from within
Each lash you've given, each threat you spoke
Taken in account for your punishment, bloke
No voodoo spell nor evil eye
Shall protect you from justice's cry
More torture shall your soul endure
Than you thought possible from the pure
Your soul into a black hole cast
It's searing heat, your soul will lash
Existing for eternity
In a place it cannot flee
Many punishments I've left out
I'll let your mind wonder and doubt
But know that volumes do exist
For each lash given, not one shall be missed
Your flesh shall be ripped from your face
And each and every private place
These warnings, heed, I do implore
If you think Braveheart suffered, you're wrongly sore
A warning I give only once
Especially to abusive runts
If you think these words seem sad
Just don't anger me, I'm not even mad

My ancestor had studied ancient secrets and methods of torture from every country and had planned them out so that each torture built upon the next. Each time he felt that his wife's captor wasn't suffering enough from the torture compared to how he imagined his wife felt for the offense my ancestor was stating, he would stab the arm of the man on the table with an ice pick, something the doctor had suggested. This took careful supervision by the doctor to keep the man alive through all the tortures he was to receive.

Each torture was delivered slowly, painfully, methodically, agonizingly as my ancestor described each thing that his wife had told him that her captor had put her through. So tortured was my ancestor by his wife's agonizing tales, that he wanted to be sure that each part of this man's being suffered as much as my ancestor's heart suffered for his dear love. All the tortures in the poem and more, many too excruciatingly painful to describe here, for the sake of your sanity... if it's not already too late... but each of these tortures and more were dealt unto his wife's captor.

Since then, as a penance, it has been tradition for the male members of my family to seek out and help recover one sex slave in his lifetime. In seeking for her, they often helped many.

You see, I didn't make all these things up. These things came from part of the history of my ancestor's tale which was passed down through generations. I don't make threats. I make promises and not promises on which I cannot deliver.

The full story of the tortures has never been told after the tale was told to Edgar Allan Poe. The tale drove him mad. The chilling tale of the man's torture was so explicit and so vivid that it haunted Poe for the rest of his life.

Poe wrote to try to relieve his mind from the torture and nightmares the tale evoked. He wrote many tales based upon what my ancestor told him trying to relieve his troubled mind. It is said that Poe finally escaped the torture of his mind from the tale by writing “The Lighthouse,” his final attempt to free his mind. It was said that as a price for his mind's escape was the death that kept him from finishing the piece. Since then, the story has only been passed down in fragments and never told all at once to another human being, though it is suspected that a few of my ancestors bypassed that rule as evidenced by the onset of their insanity. Do you think I would bypass such a rule? It makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Pleasant dreams.
MuuuuUUUAHAHAHAHaaaaa!

Copyright © 2009 Cal Jennings