With me a new twist of the conscious. We think but never speak about the sensitive side. Place in metaphors and statements, presenting reality and a bonus of fiction. Welcome to my sighting, vision, and exaggeration of what could be true.
Become my eyes, as you focus on the words. Now can you see what I see? Twisting scenes, transferring thoughts to an emotion, touching the unseen, holding hands with fear, realizing it's truth to an open opinion.
This is why I felt compelled to tell the story. A plan from deep within set a sail for my new adventures of what I see, and what I think I see, and to learn the difference.
Taught speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil, so I wrote it instead. These rules were never clarified outside the main ingredients.
So telling the story this way makes it easier for my conscience, releasing a poison that was slowly trying to kill a humble soul. Sins and unwanted memories can be at peace, through the conclusion of a fictional story. Or is it?
My gift of a fictional horror with an inspirational meaning.
Read my exaggeration, and form your opinion of a book called "Can You See What I See?"
I'm not a big fan of gambling, but I bet a pocket full of coins that this book is different, heads or tails.
P.S. Remember three is a charm. Two more will follow.
|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.30(d)|
Read an Excerpt
Can You See What I See
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2010 jusTemple
All right reserved.
Chapter OneIt begins
The beginning that triggered memories for awareness of this realization of existence. Concerns came in reactions of being startled to an insight that fear was without an end, a great admiration to find the knowledge and to keep an order. Intimation presented ceaselessly to my mental character, transforming my physical ego. My memories became captive, on the one hundred and eleventh day of spring, which fell under the tenth.
As the wool blanket slid from over my face, I saw it, deep in the right hand corner of the roof, in the shed. The shed was already spooky. My vision saw dusty concrete, a flow of assorted off-white colors with a condemned nature. It was the size of a utility room, but had a visual of a harsh placement, within this environment. Two windows stood on opposite sides of the wall, facing each other. This square area measurement of the window space, if open, not an easy fit for someone half my size.
Seeing out them was out the question, what the rain couldn't do, didn't get done. In front of me, a dull wall with many cobwebs, a space of hidden critters. Light source was little, seems to barely receive light, becoming a resident for the creepy crawlies.
My reality of it, a dusty old doll house, full of wonders; bonus to escape from my stupid brothers.
A little beyond the wall stood many leaves and limbs. They're donations of pecans, became the main attraction.
I must have dozed off; turning this escape into my first saved memory, and nothing would be the same anymore.
Eyes focus on the right hand corner. I spot something moving, a dark shadow, covering the edge of the roof, footage, a fourth of a pie, and the size of one. Easing from the corner, my inside thought was: Is it coming up to get me?
A blotchy shadow, darker than any other shadows in the compartment, didn't help that it was already dark out side, but not yet pitch.
I thought at first it was the lighting. Maybe this is a shadow off an object in motion beaming off something that isn't.
I lift my arms behind, and pushed up hard, popping them hard in place, to get a better view of my space.
Being a tomboy had its benefits. You learn to move muscles, to keep up with them, and beating them made it worth it, a classic, arm wrestling. A competition for my male siblings, a fact a girl can beat a boy.
I should have known. The windows were too little to give off such a shadow, and nothing was over there but a wall, and on the other side, Mr. Seek.
Mr. Seek, old and worn. Some thought he was taking up space, always in the back, waiting to tell the same stories of who he knew. Once in a blue moon, we would get a new one.
A phrase referred to him, a lot - "Is your bark bigger then you bite?" with a laugh after the statement, huge and powerful. You couldn't tell his age. He felt like my grandpa in so many ways.
Nature was taking its course. Sitting in Mr. Seek's lap and playing would become unreasonable. The pain we heard popping, coming from his arm, as we hug it. As much as he enjoyed us, he couldn't stop, a broken arm, coming from a loosen embrace.
Old, maybe, a little wore out, but never taking up space. While sitting in Mr. Seek's lap, I released my mind, looking up in the clouds, and making out person, places, or things; clouds becoming my entertainment. Every now and then, emotions were showed, a big blue smile would appear, amongst the clouds. I made sure to listen to the wind as it sings the perfect caption. He was the Old Friend.
On his body, permanent art, initials of RC loves PH, curved in the chest, and in the middle of the back, WD loves GD, telling of whom he knew. His full name, Mr. Hide-N-Go-Seek, the eldest of the pecan trees.
I turned my head in the direction of this half moon. I couldn't move, frozen from the waist down.
I muttered, "I'm scared."
I felt like my eyes were deceiving me. I knew that the reflection was of its own. It was a race of understanding in my heart and veins, which one could perform faster, causing my skin to take on the proof. Sweating would persist; giving me a hot fever threw my muscles. Reality was playing in my mind. Under stress was an understatement. Sweating turned into chills. I realized that I was fragile, different from the boys.
A black blotch is present, a full pie. Substance was darkness moving out the edge of the wall, poking out, what seems to be a head.
"Am I really seeing this?" my mouth mumbles.
My eye lenses open up slowly; the oversized circle was about the size of a distant full moon.
Moving at an angle, from the wall, sideways. Figurine of a hangman, squirming out the edge, Jell-O motion, while parts of it look to be tripped in a sci-fi generation, not visible, yet, to my eyes.
My arms became weak. I no longer was sitting up. I fell back without a fight, but I was a fighter. Now, tears started to form in my eyes.
"What is this?" I thought, and with another thought, Scream!! Nothing came out my mouth, and I was stuck. I couldn't move, and it felt like I couldn't breathe.
The hangman started stretching.
As I laid down to the thought of what was going on, scared to the fact, or is this fiction? "What to do, what to do?" making sure it didn't hear.
My eyes were dry, and no more tears could fall, not after soaking up the back of my hair. A self petty emotion that discharged from my eyes, but left proof in other spots.
"Mommma," I whisper.
Eyes, engaged fully with the wall. A hangman, turns at a slant, boldly on the wall, sideways, nothing to show characterized, no eyes, mouth, fingers, feet.
Basic show of individuality: legs, arms, body, neck, and head. No adjectives.
"Is it moving?" I look up. At this time, my eyes are burning, "Move! MOVE! Run!" I froze.
Leaping, from side to side, head first, pace picking up.
The wall was dark, but the skydiving hangman was darker, arms pulled back with every leap. The mimicking of this hangman was causing its own shadows, on its third leap.
A new kind of scary, not believable to the eye of the beholder. This was Saturday morning cartoons, transformed into a reality, as I watched. Watching Tom and Jerry earlier, could this be the influence on my perception?
Hitting the end and have a disorderly fit as it turn for the next jump. Slamming harder to the edge of the wall, creating a new pace, not able to catch with the eye. I could view the movement, but not the hangman.
Danger was present to my eyes, sending shock within my mind. Bring on another emotion.
"Get up and Get out," spoke the words in deep thought, but I didn't budge. Total helplessness - this emotion - would be harmful to my survival.
I start to feel lifeless, and lost was taking its turning. I had no clue what to do. None! I was alone. Lost fits my description. Lost became the emotion.
Lost in a wilderness.
A wilderness of darkness and mystery, not a pleasant mystery, but a mystery of what's the meaning of this shadow, a mystery of survive or not, a mystery of why me. How I craved for comfort. I felt helpless. I couldn't do anything for myself, not even scream. Maybe, then, I could be found, always protected by my mother. This time was different, no protection, just horror.
I'm dizzy by the movement. My eyes tried to keep up; speed was at a flash, a dark figment moving back and forth.
"Momma, please find me?" I tried telepathy. Hopefully, she would read my mind. She was that much of a hero, and I needed one bad.
Momma, strong but different, she didn't give a hoot about what the world thought of her, her dress, walk, talk, basically her demeanor. Didn't fit in to what society thought was right. For example, when she wore a dress, not for looks, but for comfort. Same went for her shoes, a dress with tennis shoes. What they call fashionably incorrect, even if her IQ was ranked one of the top in the United States. Most thought, she was a little strange, but momma wasn't worried about others and what they think. What she was worried about was us, my siblings and I. She told it every single day, told in actions, not spoken words. "Seeing is believing." She would risk her life with pride, to become this hero.
"Got to get out," I rumbled, getting feeling, thinking, "I will survive." My eyes, now feeling as if I looked directly at the sun. Blurriness and a sense of blindness took hold of me for a few seconds.
I begin to feel my legs; I'm getting the strength.
Focus came back to my eyes, latched on the wall, about two feet from the left edge. It was swaying and wobbling to the edge of the wall, creating following shadows. Movement of an eruption, fantasy giving an invitation to actuality.
Closed my eyes.
I remember this saying, "May the Lord watch between me and thee when were absent one from another." So I spoke it.
Open my eyes.
A black flash, and it jumped out the window, to my right.
I keep my eyes out the window to make sure it wasn't coming back. This shock would start the beginning of my first recall of seeing these figments, these creatures, these animated, but real shadows. Memory had evolved.
I got up slowly and fixed myself, forgetting about the candy that I had snuck off to eat. Sharing was not in my policy. The room was dark and still, my eyes going back and forth. How my eyes hurt, burning, dry. I started backing up as I walked out the entrance, now making it an exit.
I felt pitiful, rough like the boys, but not today. I can never let any one know this secret.
I wasn't a frail or a weak little girl. Tough made me important. I was known for being a rider, and riding out made me a winner.
Happy to be out of there, thinking, "Make it in the house and everything going to be okay." With every step, I felt my heart rate going back to normal. A smile forming on my lips, as my front tooth caught my tongue. This new thought changed the rhythm within my brain cells. This new thought, taking my recent experience to a level of control, bodily features still in shock. But reversing was quickly in process.
It was loose and about to come out, then thinking all I wanted for Christmas is my two fronts. Not! I wanted a ten speed bicycle, even though my frame was too little to sit and pedal, as a combination.
My buster browns finally step inside of the back of my cousin's house. "Whoa, it's not dark in here!"
As I walked through the dining area, I always thought my big cousin had great taste. She had a fancy chandelier in the kitchen. Sparkles, different shapes, featuring emeralds, and the great effect of seeing through them. A difference it makes with the lights on. I love the transformation of the room. I didn't understand about value, but it was so beautiful. I let it catch my eyes so I could cool down.
Seating on the ground not to far from visual therapy.
My mouth started to speak a different tune:
Twill little lee.
Twill lil lee.
Twill little lee.
Twill lil lee.
Twit baby, twit baby.
Twit baby, twit baby.
Your momma stinks.
She rocks in the tree top all day long.
Huff and a puffing and a singing that song.
All little boys on Jay Bird Street love to hear the robin going
Tweet, tweet, tweet.
My hands went with the motion of this children's entertainment.
While I settle down, practicing, so I could perform at recess tomorrow. I had two choices, play hand games or either play with Gershom. She was nice, but not popular. Perhaps the kids didn't socialize with her because of her being a little different.
There were only three Asian Americans in the whole school that year. We were cool because birds of the same feather flock together. She was a loner, too.
Several months pass by, and I did want my two front teeth for Christmas. I couldn't stand it with a purple passion, my teeth being gone, and my hair styles seem to emphasize the new temporary look. I had this sad sensation come over me. I didn't understand it, but the children at school sang it a lot. "U. G. L. Y., you ain't got no alibi. You ugly." How cruelty can influence change in a personality, instantly.
With change a past experience, shaking hands with the present, to cause future confession.
The room activity put on pause, as I retracted my thoughts of minutes before.
Caleb is in the middle of the floor, Emanuel resting under the coffee table. I sat on the couch, making sure to keep my legs crossed. I had on a dress, not my choice. On the set was showing the Woo Tang Clan, the five deadly venoms.
Shadows covering the television, the den started to darken.
A shadow was bouncing off the ceiling with fierce movement, in an angry nature.
Open my eyes, to enforcement, two more to be exact.
It happened so fast once they spread from the original. It created triplets, on the ceiling. Pulling off it, two others, giving a step of follow the leader to a leadership of its own.
The shadow started off as the size of a basketball, dark as the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
This thing moving fast, but our eyes still caught it, an Olympic ring in formation, separating to make three, in front of our eyes, in the middle of the ceiling.
I stared in disbelief, as we froze, to the three shadows, moving to new spaces, bouncing in areas for no reason, by the ceiling fan, the fireplace, and at the tip of the shelf. These objects are getting really fast, making their way to the wall, feeding off the shadows in the room, getting stronger.
My brothers went from sitting and laying to a full stand. Our breathing changed in the process. I knew now it wasn't just me.
Caleb was the oldest of me by three years, and boy did he act like it, too. He loved having the big brother syndrome. Caleb would always wear his so-called muscle man shirt with shorts. The muscle man shirt was a hand-made, regular shirt, but the arms were cut, and a half shirt was made. Seamstresses would have use scissors, not a knife.
He was quite tall for his age, and would pick up things bigger than him. A challenge stand in his nature, proving his physical strength, put the big in big brother. Picking up a heavy duty sofa bed was once a challenge, now an accomplishment.
That's how he got the muscle, not by weights, but making the best of his surroundings, as Emanuel would state, "Get on your P's and Q's" or "Make a positive out of a negative. Elementary, my dear Watson." Emanuel was two years younger than I, and you could tell he was the baby child. The baby child is either the worst one or the best one, and even both. Emanuel the believer, he could tell you when you were wrong or right, but he didn't allow the favor to be returned. How I loved them so.
My thoughts caught up with the pause, mind back in play.
"Three. Do you see them on the roof and walls?" (Emanuel)
"Yesssssssssssss, what is it?" Caleb put his stance up ready to do whatever, but even I could see that he was scared out his mind. After I looked at Caleb, and took a second to look at Emanuel, and his face was so terrified, I could see tears forming in his eyes. None of us had a closed mouth.
"I don't know." (Emanuel)
"Do you see it, Deb?" (Caleb)
The dormant shadows seem to promote strength to the moving objects. The basketball was changing into something different. My eyes pick up a blast from the past.
Flying hangmen, angle the same, head first, moving amongst the shadows, from the pictures on the entertainment unit, to the lamp shades, to the coffee table; sliding from object to object, a motion of a fast snail, getting close, to the floor.
We quickly broke out the trance, and we RAN! Running in different rooms, I don't know where I was going, but I know I needed to hide.
I didn't look back. I took off down the hallway. To the left, an open door.
The room filled with a safari of wonder. In the corner, boxes, mind trying to find a hiding space. The closet, the first place any hunter would look. I slide under the bunk beds, knowing this was a common spot; but, I could see it coming.
* Scared, I pull the blankets off the bottom bunk with my left hand yanking it. I had a camouflage, covering up under the eyes, to my feet.
Excerpted from Can You See What I See Copyright © 2010 by jusTemple. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
ContentsChapter I: It begins....................1
Chapter II: Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?....................13
Chapter III: Dream or Nightmare?....................21
Chapter IV: The enviable tears of a clown....................31
Chapter V: Truth or Dare....................41
Chapter VI: Yamin, be there....................45
Chapter VII: Scenery of a sighting....................51
Chapter VIII: It's do or die....................59
Chapter IX: No turning back....................67
Chapter X: A moment in time....................77
Chapter XI: Love will conquer all....................101