Pit’S Note Book Avalanche (Part 4)A – draw on the sand. Forgive, forgive, forgive. Let all go and don’t get caught up in a hopeless struggle. Now mix the sand, there is no more meaning here.
Ahnashte – the word shape on the sand in the meaning of secret compassion. May compassion, may compassion wash all the obscurations. Let purify all what can separate you from others. Now mix the sand there is no more meaning here.
The circle. The triangle. The infinity. The symbols paint on the sand in request of protection. Now mix the sand and there is no longer any meaning.
“Pit wake up. You have to write.”
“It is me. Mirabelle,” He felt a change in the of energy field around his ear, lips and nose.
“Pit, do you remember? Once you asked me what turns me on the most. I told you that I share that only with my lover. You said that you wanted to know that in case if I get mad at you. I will tell – I agreed – if you if will tell me your biggest secret, something that nobody knows. My ears… Do you remember? Only you know that. When you blow air in them I am all wet. I know that Philippe is your son. It is me. You have to write, wake up.”
He rose his head from the desk where he was sitting, looked at the computer and started to follow the lines which he had done before falling asleep.
Sunday morning the 23rd of December 2012, Toronto. Back home. Big obstructions in the energy field. Terrible. So much pain out there. So much suffering. The walls are crying. Sadness and despair. After contacting source and posting ad all the rats escaped. There is no sign of any activities on the net. Seems like it should be a peaceful time for a while…
Suddenly he felt a stabbing pain in his head. He became dizzy. What is it? He ran to the washroom and started splashing his head with cold water. He looked at the mirror. Old. He looked old. His face was wrinkled and disfigured. He looked tired, lost and ugly.
“Ruffus,” he whispered. “They are here. They found me. Hm… OK. Old is not that bad. I have to focus now and don’t make any mistakes.”
He knew what kind of **** he was in now but, he was sure that killing him will not benefit them at all. They were hungry and they came to make him scared, afraid and angry. They came to torture him and feed on his weaknesses.
He opened the tap and started pouring water into the bath. Blood filled in the space and began to over flow onto the floor. He dived into the sticky liquid and laid down his head over the edge.
“Ohhhh,” he breathed peacefully. It was very cold and hot from second to second. He felt chills traveling all over his body. He shivered. Energy was leaving him endlessly. Pain was spreading all over his body, pulsating with madness. He felt like somebody was putting long needles in different parts of his body.
“Love it,” he said.
Now flash changed his perception.
He saw himself standing by the sink and brushing his teeth. Now he heard the noise… Somebody was in the house, walking through his things, checking his computer, deleting his files. He was still brushing quietly.
“Auchi !” he felt sharp pain in his mouth. His tooth broke. He removed a big chunk of it from his mouth. He looked in the mirror at the big hole there. He touched it with his heart finger, the other teeth were shaky too. He began removing them from his gums nervously… but he stopped. He started singing the song in his mind.
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on
He regained consciousness in front of his laptop staring at the screen. Cursor was flashing on the last finished word.
“It is me. Mirabelle,” he read it. He experienced her presence behind him now. She put her hands around his neck and started walking dawn towards his crotch. Next she laid her head over his shoulder. He could smell her.
“Lavender, “she said. “Your favorite. I know what you want. What you always dreamt about. **** me." He felt her tongue entering his ear.
“Fake,” he thought. Rapidly he realized that Ruffus found out about Mirabelle. Anger filled his heart. Darkness became thick and tangible.
“Noooo!!! “ he shouted and hit with full power the desk with his fist, imaging Oracle head there. His heart stopped. Echo comeback with magnifying force and shredded him in pieces, his energy dropped to zero. He froze. He felt like he would be inside the chamber full of cement which unexpectedly hardened.
“Yyyyyyaaaaa,” left his mouth. Now he reminded himself words of his teacher:
One second of your anger kills merit of a few life times. Your anger and possible violence which comes with it is the most destructive for you. When anger will win with you, you need to generate merit to rise up. Anger separates you from the grid and you would not survive that. It is all in your mind. If you hate - you hate yourself.
“Thank you, Ruffus. Enjoy. I love you,” his mind whispered and he regained the power. He became awaken in a front of his computer. Cursor was flashing in the middle of the screen. There were not any words written. He immediately started to type the message.
Hi Mira. How are you? I can’t write. I am having technical difficulties. Are you there?
He sent it over and within 5 min he received a reply.
Yes, I love you. Never be afraid, I am always here. You again made yourself up. Now you want to follow the pattern which made you feel good. You want more of the same, but you hate to repeat yourself… and you are stuck. You want the same and you don’t want the same. Write down what they told you and next think how much truth is in it. Decide who you really are.
He wrote it down:
I am passionate, intelligent, sexy, smart, magical, cute, unique, amazing, beautiful, talented, the best writer, the second Shakespeare, great, very good, deep, spiritual, great body and smile and eyes these eyes.
“Hm…Who am I?” he started to think.
I am writer and my story is simple. I don’t need to prove anything. I need to just write it down as it is.
Adam received an offer to work in the **** industry. Stan and his wife Barbara had a big production company doing classy, soft ****. Definitely the offer was influenced by Mirabelle, sister of Stan. Mirabelle was an interior designer. She was preparing the set for each movie shoot. Finally in the end Stan didn’t leave Barbara. There were too many business connections and the money was too good to afford for any changes. Everything remained the same in spite of hard feelings between family members. Only new thing would be Adam working with them as a producer and writer. Mirabelle wanted to keep Adam close by in France and enjoy his presence. Adam’s heart was torn between love to Barbara, which he adored for her inner strength and his desire for Mirabelle who knew him perfectly. Both women were beautiful outside and inside, but totally different. What made things even more complicated was the fact that Barbara and Mirabelle were in deep love through the years.
Adam decided to decline the offer as **** wasn’t totally his style. He felt a bit wounded when Stan had given him a contract with a job proposal. He told Stan that he would think about it. Mirabelle invited him for a dinner in her ranch not far from Denver. He did not want to disappoint her…but he knew that he will have to use his secret weapon and blow into her ear. He was not sure why she chose to meet him in USA when the whole **** industry was placed in France. He smelled some troubles but he trusted her.
“How was your trip,” she asked him kissing his cheek and taking his coat and book which he carried in his hand. Adam was wearing plain pair of jeans, white t-shirt, dark blue sport jacket and moccasins.
“As always with no lagging. You didn’t change a bit over the years,” she added smiling and looked deeply into his eyes. She was in a black short dress, black stockings and classy black heels. No bra, no underwear. No decorations, no makeup, her blond hair was laying on her exposed shoulders in sort of chaos.
“Why don’t you want work with me?” she asked sadly and dropped her beautiful blue eyes on the book. She was so disappointed and crushed by the news that silence became like guilt. She opened the book and read the first page:
Federico Garcia Lorca poems in the time of death.
There was a note as well made by Adam:
Suchness has your taste
I wish I would die in your arms
I can’t escape
Body will always win
I am slave of my desire
I can’t make this happen
Suchness has to remain unclaimed
“Very beautiful, “she said. “There is no food and I am not sure about your plains. I will call a taxi. I am sure you can manage.”
“OK.” said Adam. “O yea…and there is one more…very important thing…which I am sure you would like to know… but it is secret.”
“Secret? What is it?” she asked awaken in interest.
He moved slowly and respectfully his hand in gesture - come closer. She opened her right shoulder removing her hair with her left hand reaching behind her head. She came closer to him totally open, like the gates of heaven, intrigued like child. Her ear was close to his lips now. He exhaled a soft and gentle breeze as kind and soft as possible. She dropped the book and her arms landed quickly on his shoulders surrounding his neck, her left leg swing around his. She was biting his lips now fiercely and in a second she was hitting his chest with her fists saying:
“I can’t, “he said enjoying greatly the pain of her bite. Her full lips tasted like well ripened wild strawberries. He felt her erected nipples pressed into his chest and the pulsating warmth of her secret garden on his thigh. He felt drunk, exposed. Blood was rushing in every part of his body. She was just eating him and he could not resist. She caught his bottom lips between her teeth with such a passion that he almost faint it in pleasure. She kept it there now strongly looking like a wild hungry gypsy and she focused her eyes on his. He was blinded. He saw long tunnel with two sparking white lights in the end inviting him for the feast. He was gone and his body was exploding with energy and power. Keeping his lip in clamp of her lips she started opening his belt and undoing his pants. She freed him quickly, grab it in her hand and squeezed tightly pulling down on it. Now she took him down on the floor with no loosing for a second of her grip on his lips. She spread her legs and let him lay on her. Now she was looking impatiently for opening in her ***** sliding his **** over her soaked chamber. Finally she found it and pushed him in. She grabbed his butt and pressed it with tremendous power as deep as she could.
“Ohhoo God, “she moaned and released his lip starting moving quickly over his ****… in and out of her *****…. like crazy. This was in total madness. She was scratching his butt and squeezing it like she would like to remove his entire flesh from his bones…moving faster and faster and harder and harder…pouring her kisses and bites over his face. He was paralyzed. He become like one harden piece of metal with his highly erected **** which she was ******* now with no mercy. He came quickly moaning loudly like an animal when she was screaming during her climax writhing like a snake.
“No! No! No!”
She pushed him again… after that… deeply…as deep as she could and hugged him tightly with her legs and arms moving her butt to the left and right saying.
I love you. ****. I love you so much.
Bolek 41-45, M 10 Responses 9 Feb 15, 2013