the short story project


John J Hancock

Son Hazing, a chapter “The Burn”

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.  He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

      I was smack in the middle of it.  Something dark and positive at the same time although I couldn’t see anything positive at the time.  I was confused.  Searching for answers of the human kind when this was something “more.”  My wife and daughter were gone.  I had tried to explain something so unexplainable it must have scared them.  I know it did.  It felt like I was under attack therefore they were.  I was grateful they were gone for I didn’t know how to protect them when I didn’t know who was attacking me.  Better yet, what?

     I packed my bag of clothes and some other Bare essentials.  My plan was to leave.  Draw the enemy away from my family and losing whoever, whatever was tormenting me in the process.  My face had now been burning and my brain felt as if it was being fried from the inside out for days on end.  I lost track of how long in fact this had been occurring.  I just wanted the pain to go away but it wouldn’t.  This truly felt as a living hell while still very much alive.  I must admit there were times I wondered if I really was.

     I lived in a complex a half mile away from the department of homeland security’s headquarters and our complex was full of staff from all branches only intensifying the speculation that this was indeed man made.  I now know I was actually placed on a list you do not want to find yourself on.  There was real surveillance.  It was apparent.  My downloading a Russian made app for my phone in order to continually bounce my sms messages from cell tower to cell tower so my phone could not be stingrayed I’m sure only made matters worse.  I just wanted my privacy.

     I thru my items in the car and sped off around the corner rapidly approaching our complex’s gate. A man came running out of his unit with no shirt on, no shoes, only sweat pants.  He attempted to stop me.  I knew him and have observed him observing me in a few random places outside of the complex in the past.  I gathered he was former military from the emblem on his car but he had the air of someone active in another branch. Why did he try and stop me?  What was I into?

     A car had been waiting for the gate in front of me so I drove around the friend, foe and hauled ass out of there.  I made my way to the interstate and started heading east.  The burning on my face and brain fire diminished a little.  Thank God.

     When I was 50 miles outside of Orange County, heading to Arizona the weird shit started once again. There were signs along the side of the interstate with bright yellow digital display letters.  The first one I read was “ It’s been so long since I’ve driven a car.”  What?  I shook it off and trudged forward.  Roughly a half mile away the next road sign said “Cool, I just saw myself through your eyes.”  Okay so at this point I got scared.  How could I be reading this?  There’s no way it would be on roadside digitized billboards!

     I kept moving and got to a part of highway heading to the Arizona boarder where there were no more signs.  My intent was to find a place, a barren place to camp.  I turned on the satellite radio.  Some dance/techno music was playing and I could feel as if something was trying to control my mind.  I started to feel euphoric.  I went from total fear to euphoria by music and something “else.”

     I crossed the Arizona boarder.  Home free I hoped. I still was under this euphoric, hypnotic, spell when wham!  Instant panic attack hit me.  This was too much.

     I pulled off the first exit I could find and rolled into a little gas station/convenience store.  A car pulls up to me with two guys up front and a woman in back.  There was a tv screen in the back seat with the image of an atomic explosion?  I went inside my heart pounding.  A young man follows me in from the car which pulled up next to me, walks by me with a huge grin and a shirt saying “the thin blue line.”  I was to see this same young man with his same shit eating grin a month later in a hotel in Costa Mesa.  More on that later.

     I jumped back into the car. I turned and started heading back to California while the satellite radio came back on by itself.  Sure it, I asked my first question.  “ What do you want from me?”  The screen started flashing “CIA make magic.”  This was too much. I continued. I asked “ where do you want me to live?”  The screen started flashing “ where the streets have no name.”  I instantly started thinking of gangstalking’s ultimate goal of attempting to make you institutionalized, suicidal, incarcerate, dead, or homeless as it seemed very fitting for all I had been through.

     I thought of the next logical thing to say as I was fucking done with this game, this mysterious bullshit of cat and mouse with pussies hiding behind radio waves.  “Let’s meet,” I said.  The satellite radio started flashing in green “ No phone, no police, federal land.”  The music kicked back on and I started feeling better again.  Too good.  If there was a form of mind control this must be it.  I pulled off the highway to another gas station approximately 20 to 30 miles back on California’s side.  Admittedly during this stretch of highway I almost, almost came close to purposely flipping my car.  Never.

     I cruised up next to the pumps, got out, broke my cell phone, smashed it with my steel toe boots, thru it into the trash, when a car screamed up out of nowhere.  I sat back in the drivers seat and watched a woman jump out of the car, reach into the garbage, grab my phone, and sped off into the night.  Again, WTF.

     I drove away, found the first barren parking lot I could find, pulled into it and waited.  No one ever came.  I must not of been on federal land.  Lol.

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