This piece is by Waylon Bryan Guillory.
The Chamber –
“I sometimes fear the dark and this bloody rag in front of my nose smells terrible. It’s plagued! There are blood stains all over it. You do realize you have only managed to keep me hostage for a short while, Sir?
I’ve grown weary of this game, but will comply. How much longer do you think I’ll allow you to keep me here? Just because my father is dead, mother ill, and my brother out of the house, doesn’t mean you can steal me away. I’m the only adolescent on this base, and you are no better than those bullies in school!” I shouted from the tank.
I should have never written that letter to the president about the bullies and my curse; I destroyed all the mirrors in the boy’s bathroom. I snapped without even realizing what I’d done. I lost it! That’s when they showed up at recess the very next day and snagged me. They made empty promises of helping my mother and bringing us together again.
They appeared benign.
“It’s dark in this iron tank of cold water! It’s hard to breathe! The water is right at my chin! My vision is obscured! Can you empty some of this water, please? I want out of this tank! Are you listening to me, Sir? I don’t want another incident!” I shouted.
“Stop talking to yourself and concentrate, boy. Focus, spook! Smell the cloth in the water-filled Chamber. Zone in and look for signs! You are lucky I’m on this project working with you and that my brother survived your mind bending games.
The other lieutenants don’t like you because you are a damn spook! A freak of nature! I saw what you did to that other sniper too. You’ll pay for that, you disturbed child! I’m not afraid of you!” Said Lieutenant Buckley.
Lieutenant Buckley reminded me of my brother, but an older version of him. How I’d imagine him as a middle-aged man. He had salt-and-pepper hair, amber eyes, and was Special Ops for years before his current position, which is completely under the radar. I respected him because he did not fear me, plus he was twice my size in stature-a formidable opponent.
“You are a very disturbed individual, Lieutenant Buckley. I’ll recapitulate to bring you up to speed: I’m much more powerful than given credit. I know that now. I will give you what you want, if you help me escape. It’s the safest way-no one gets hurt. Also, I apologize. I didn’t know that the sniper’s mind I controlled was your younger brother.”
“I don’t have a visual. Not just yet, however; the image is becoming clearer. Please be patient.” I said.
“Where does it lead you, Leeland?”
“Thank you for using my name, Sir, and not calling me a spook. I know it’s slang for a person such as myself-a remote reader, but it starts to get old,” I added.
“I see a desert with some field far off in the southern valley, Lieutenant Buckley. I believe that’s south.”
“Yes… You may be there. Now, go farther into the desert, to the valley. Do you see anything there-any markings?” He asked.
“Red or pink roses with some being white-tall stems, or something similar. It’s not clear–hard to make out. Hang on… there are so many roses, and farmers in the valley–a field of them with a barn off to the side! So many roses… everywhere. As far as the eye can see, yet they are not roses, are they?” I asked.
“Wait… they are peering at me. The farmers are gazing right at me! They can see me!” I exclaimed.
“No, spook… I mean, Leeland! That’s not possible!”
“I can feel them, and I’m telling you, they can see me, but they all appear to be the same person, now. Wait… hang on… It’s not them.
“It’s another, single mind. Oh my gosh. This is intense. If I look at him directly in the face, it‘s as though I am looking at myself in a mirror with a mirror behind me, forming an infinite loop of my image, but it’s his face staring back at me. He definitely is a man, for sure.”
“I can not read him as easily as the others. Oh, my Gosh! He’s a remote reader! He’s much older. Your age, and he’s powerful. He‘s trying to access my Psyche. I’m going under!”
I panicked and ducked my head under the water to block his vision of me and my location.
“What the hell are you talking about? Do you see a sign on the barn or on a vehicle? Do you have anything we can work with?” He asked.
I could hear him under the water. He was loud, and it made me even more nervous and afraid.
I’ve accomplished so much in the past few months here in Area 51, but the few hairs on my arms and nape stood straight out as I felt my life force zapped and a tingling in my head.
Maybe these powerful drugs are clouding my vision(?) Something in me felt true fear from this person. I’ve feared no one before, or maybe I’m tired. I don’t sleep much. My mind never stops and I remember all my dreams, in great detail and technicolor when I do sleep.
Sometimes, when my mind is quieted, I dream of peace and being with my mom and brother at home.
Lord, grant me peace and wisdom.
“Do you see a sign? Any sign?” He anxiously questioned.
I stayed under a few more minutes until the fear subsided.
“Yes. The last vision I had was a sign on a tan van that spelled, Kandahar!”
“I’m going to yank you by your neck and pull you out of this damn tank if you’re lying to me, spook!”
“No, Sir. I am not lying. I promise!”
We were there scouting out Poppy plants two years ago, but many were pulled out and sent back home. So, that’s where I come in. It’s a brutal existense in the Military, Especially for someone like me.
Next to the mountain ranges in Asia, Afghanistan is the largest Poppy grower in the world and the Military wanted it, even went to war over it, to create Opium and give it to me, and other remote readers.
They gave me Psychedelics, Meth- Hydroponics. It had no effect on me. I just pretended it did.
They wanted to enlighten our abilities for remote readings farther than Afghanistan-all the way to Moscow, over two thousand miles away, on the other side of the world, from that same tank, for some covert mission that was planned ahead for me when I turned 18.
My abilities and others like me? Really? I was the only reliable person who possessed this so-called gift. I wished for a companion-someone like me to talk to, and be a kid with. Not gonna happen. just wasn’t in the cards for me… ever!
What a curse to have at such a young age of 13. The others where fakes. They couldn’t see past their coke-bottled-bottom glasses and I was a teenager with a powerful gift, or curse rahter, and an old soul.
My Gosh! These fricking dreams again! as I jump from REM sleep state.
I lied in my bed and controlled my breathing until my muscled relaxed, realigning my twisted spine.
Wow, that was an intense dream of my childhood experiences. I need to process these thoughts and emotions in a healthy way. Meditation has always helped. Good thing I had a fantastic therapist growing up. Cognitive therapy was her preferred choice.
It has allowed me to be impervious to my surroundings. As my breathing slowed to a melodic rhythm, a sense of tranquility enveloped me. It was harmonious.
Another outter-body experience develops taking me back to infancy. It’s so vivid with technicolor:
I’m am now seven months old at the scene of the accident. I’m rocking back and forth just inside the double doors of my father’s utility van. The doors open. I fall out, backwards, on a tall, pointed anvil.
The apex punctured through the soft tissue of my skull
My father is working on the van’s engine at the front. He’s unaware. He doesn’t realize Im dangling from the anvil. My mother is back from the grocery store. She sees me
My life-force, blood, is dripping down the tall, rusty, cold metal. The anvil has pinned my mouth shut, but my eyes are wide open. I’m unable to shut them and they are filled with red corpuscles. Blood is leaking from my eyes, ears, and skull.
I ammnow at the emergency room with my mom. She’s hysterical. They just pronounced me dead upon arrival.
It’s bizarre witnessing the even. I’m now hovering above watching it all all unfold in frames of time. It’s surreal.
My mother is resting her warm hand over my cold heart. She’s praying for me to come back to her. I am now breathing.
The vision abruptly stops.
I remember all of it now. You see, my mother was told by the Physician and the Director of the E.R., I was in a comma and would be brain dead if I ever woke up. I didn’t require life support. My central nervous system was functioning.
I woke up six months later-a different 13-month-old baby. No blood filled cloth wrapped around my head, and eyes just as bright and innocent as though it never happened.
My mom is gazing me with big brown eye. She’s shaking her head back and forth, rapidly. I wonder if she is aware of her surroundings(?)
She’ stopped and approaches me in order to take me in her arms to cuddle me.
***Her frigid, dry fingers were soothed by my warm, fragile body, bundled beneath the covers in this cold archaic room, as she picked me up for the first time in many months and hugged me.
***Oh, how she longed for this special moment. She gazed at my small neck and watched it throb with life as the blood flowed through my veins being pumped by my weakened heart.
***She held me up–embraced me again, and felt my tiny heart beat next to hers,
but at a slightly faster pace. The scent of baby breath and powder excited her nostrils as she rubbed her nose against my soft face. Nothing but a proud smile on her rosy-cheeked face.
***“Oh Jehovah, my Heavenly Father, You are so merciful! You gave me back my beautiful baby boy! He’s awake! He’s awake!” My mother exclaimed.
***God gave me my baby back. My beautiful baby came back to me.
She gazed into my widely opened eyes, ***“I will protect you and will never let your father watch you again.” She hummed her church hyms and I hummed synchronously in the same key.
By the time I was five, things were really starting to heat up. My brain was on fire all the time-hardly slept. The doctors couldn’t figure me out. I was always sick with debilitating migraines, and would have to take these small green pills, which made it worse and the nose bleeding was relentless.
There was no doubt in my mother’s mind that her child differed from the rest.
I was in first grade at five. I didn’t go to kindergarten. I was shy–a recluse, but when asked to do my work in school, it was a breeze. It was as if I already knew the answers to the questions. All I had to do was glance at the material; skim through it, and then face the teacher and speak. The correct answers flowed seamlessly.
At five, my piano teacher would play a key and ask all the other students to sing the next key tone in line. I immediately sang it and all the 12 keys thereafter, to complete an octave.
Much older kids in higher classes bullied me because I never spoke to them, only to my teachers–the adults. They loved me. I didn’t fit in with younger kids. I wasn’t sure why at the time.
I was riding a ten-speed bicycle at six and a mini-bike at seven. Not a big deal but I was always looking for recklessness and excitement. I just couldn’t sit still.
My brother and I would go fishing every day after school, and all throughout the summer. He would catch nothing and I would reel them in. All I had to do was imagine the fish swimming to me, nibbling and there it was, on my hook.
“What the hell! There is no way, Leeland! You have your bucket full and I don’t have one. Not one fish, and we’ve been here for hours!” Said my brother Daryl.
“All you have to do is silence your mind from distracting thoughts, and just think out loud for the fish to hear. Command the fish to come, one at a time, but keep your mouth closed and mind open.”
“Ha, Ha! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard! You’ve got to be the weirdest kid brother on the face of the earth!”
“You don’t understand, brother. You are thinking small. Open your mind and command them to appear and lead them to the bate. See deeper to the bottom, through the murky waters.
Not only will you see the fish in the deep water, out of normal visual range–you will feel them and sense how they move throughout the pond–how they form ripples in the water. You will swim with them.”
“Ha, Ha! You are a screwed up seven-year-old! No wonder you get beat up at school all the time!” He exclaimed, and continued, “I’m sorry little brother… I didn’t mean that. I’ll teach you how to fight at the bus stop Monday.”
I turned my head slowly and covered my eyes with my hand to block out the intense sun on that hot Louisiana summer day, and looked at him directly in his eyes, “They don’t understand me. I’m a stranger in a strang land. I have no friends. You are the only person I fear the most.
I don’t even fear the bullies. They fear what they don’t understand, brother. That’s why I’m bullied.”
“Wow… you are a very sharp kid sometimes. What the hell does murky mean, anyway?” As he chuckled his way back to his tackle box staring at his shiny bate imitations.
“Maybe you can help me with school and I’ll teach you how to defend yourself. I saw that big guy Paul stab you in the back of your head with a pencil at the cafeteria table. I just so happened to be there at the right time. That piece of shit!
No one does that to my little brother! He won’t be bothering you anymore. I beat the hell out of’m in the boy’s bathroom! I’m going to teach you how to fight! You wait and see.” He said.
“Lieutenant Buckley, may I ask a question once completed here?”
“Yes, buddy, but we still have more work, okay?”
“Sure thing, Sir. Are you pleased with the outcome so far, Sir?”
“Yes. I’m feeling a bond with you that I’ve never felt.”
I knew he was lying but remained silent, as I made my way out of the water through the top hatch of the tank.
“So, what do you want to ask me? Ask me anything, buddy.” He said
“Wow, I’m so tired. I’ll ask you later, Lieutenant Buckley. May I please retire?”
“Yeah, sure buddy.”
I was fricking freezing. The air was so frigid-similar to my room.
The “box” I calle it.
They must have it set on 55.
A way to prevent an uprising in bacteria?
The giant intake system is split between my room, on floor 6, and the DataCenter down the hall.
They love to torment me, here. I can hear the many voices of these men and women.
I never complain. I know better. Sucks knowing so much and having to keep my composer. Sometimes I wanna just snap and annihilate them.
“You okay, buddy?” Lieutenant Buckley asked, as he walked through the halfway closed door of my prison chamber, gazing at me. I contemplated my plan of escape, but listened intently.
“Sir. Do you like me. I’m different, I know. I’ve never really had friends before and you are helping me sharpen my abilities. I appreciate that.
Careful, Leelanld, I thought.
“I completely trust you, Sir, However, right now, I just need a towel and a warm bed. May I please be excused?”
“Sure. Have a great sleep kiddo. You did well. I’m proud of your diligence.”
I sense so much deception and hostility in him. He is a fricking liar and can’t be trusted.
Buddy, my ass.
I pretended to slump with exhaustion. I could feel him staring back at me before my tan, large metal room door closed, resonating a clanging ping.
What a creap. And he thinks I’m jacked up.
I sense danger when I tap into Lieutenant Buckley’s mind, a great amount of rage fueled by the inability to forgive himself. He’s angry with himself.
I’ve got to keep my composure and not intimidate or cause any unnecessary anxiety between us. I’m more confident now. It’s invigorating.
I’m not the least bit tire. If I don’t sleep, well then that’ll fine. I’ve always been highly resilient because of my endeavors.
I lied down still damp and shivered like a water-collie fresh out of water. I made a dart for my bed after pulling back my new blanket. Then bundling beneath the my, warm covers.
Concentrate Leeland, I thought. A warm sensation comforted my body. I was in between wake and slip, slipping into my state of bliss.
I closed my eyes, relaxed every muscle and opened my mind’s eye-my third eye. I’m there,
I’m now down the hall at the security desk before the biometric eye scanner at the Data Center. Lots of interesting files to rummage through. Let me take a quick look-see.
Damn, there’s some technology here I’ve never imagined before. I have no idea it was this easy to comprehend. I could definatley walk away with a few reversed-engineered patents.
I see the guards: one is sleeping, the other watching TV.
I’m gonna get the “F” out of here without Buckley’s help. I’ll get past the guard watching TV while the other sleeps.
I’ll then need to access Buckley’s mind and see through his eyes in order to sample his retina and emit the image to by pass the security. The thought of doing this sickens me though. Gross, he’s a mess.
I’ll then erase every darn trace of my being here.
I’m gonna get some shut eye for an hour first.
Well, that didn’t happen. Too much hype. Brain of fire again.
Okay, I got this.
I walked past the guards, unlocked the security door with my mind, then proceeded to the Biometric scanner.
Wow, this came was easier than I thought.
Sir is such and easy hack now, now that I really know who he is and don’t require the tank any longer for my abilities to work. Transcending is a breeze.
Yes, it’s a gift. I believe that now, as I affirmed my initial beliefs.
If I can get to the tapes and the mainframes. I could use a magnet and erase all the tapes but keep the data locked away in my little old noodle, for later review and possible attaining wealth. Lots of it.
hell, I know know the theories, quantum physics, FTLT, and, worm
Hell, I’ll just command it to happen-so much more efficient that way.
Matter of fact, I’ll just meditate for a moment and get the hell outta here tonight. An easy task.
I see the security cameras, all twenty. I blotted them out with just a single thought, I cracked the lens covers too. For fail-safe.
It was as if I were floating on air as I glided through the long corridores.
Damn, this place is endless, but I know my purpose now. I’m going home; mom’s getting out of the hospital, and I’m building a house. My mom and brother will live with me. One big happy family.
Suddenly, I see a guard.
“Hey, you’re that spook Lieutenant Buckley told me about! What the fuck are you doing?!” Get over here and don’t try to run! He exclaimed.
“Sir, please, I’m tired, wet, and hungry. I’ve been in the tank for hours today. I’m really good friends with Mr. Buckley. I’m not a spook with extraordinary gifts as everyone believes.
My God. What am I saying. I need to remain calm. He’ll get suspicious and attack.
Suddenly, my transformation completed. Wow, pure energy and mass with unlimited power, mass, gravity, velocity, omnipotencen, and peace that surpasses, my comprehension of this amazing peace, which guards my heart and my soul.
I’ve now attained all knowledge and wisdom. I’m the image of my HEAVENLY Father, made of Tachyons,as he is. I’m an infant being cuddled by this old man, who is meag and mild, just as His Word said.