It was a
wintery cold day. Snowflakes, like coconut flakes, were gently falling from
above, from what was known as; The Heavens. Inside homes, residents gathered
around wood stoves and fireplaces, warming themselves, staying out of Old Man
Winter’s path, because Old Man Winter likes blowing his cool before the real
storm is about to hit head-on.
It was a typical day in the far regions of Poke; a rural out of the way small town, which you could say was more of a village, yet considered and noted by many, as a township. Residents who live there, and who have lived there, were and are, very much aware of outsiders wanting desperately to become insiders.
In order to keep order, Centurions are and have been, always and forever, posted at the four corners of Poke, keeping any and all intruders from ever entering. Once you’re an assembled cast member of Poke and qualify as a certified resident, you never leave...ever.
As with any notions, a form on the planet, as on all planets, quite presumably a draft of consequences, must be signed and sealed, then locked away in a vault. Haste should never be taken lightly, it should be considered with a great deal of thought.
Life forever is not as great a joy as you assume. Dealing with day to day problems, can and eventually will, become unbelievably overwhelming, especially problems which occur and occur several hundred, if not millions, of times over.
Imagine a life without end. A repeat of the same old tiresome ritual with no end in sight.
The one drawback to living in Poke is you can never leave. Nor can you inform anyone wanting to enter of the constant horrors of what a repeated everyday life exacts. Not only in tradition, but a mindless sense of being where nothing changes, and where there is never…ever new results.
If for whatever reason beyond imagination something occurs in the slightest form of obscurity, one must then be aware of the consequences. Life in Poke joins together one universal code without end.
There is no escape.
Some residents take a lifetime to fully grasp their situation, while others, for whatever reason, grasp the concept quickly, understanding in time what it truly means to live, breathe, and die accordingly. The one question both insiders and outsiders ask of themselves, is what happens at the end of existence? Are there other worlds with species like that of your known world? The world which you are born into. The only world that you know, and which does in fact, exist.
Aliens are considered just that, and we are not speaking of aliens in the only world you know. We are speaking of Aliens outside your existence. Those supposed creatures we have conjured up in our simple mindless fears. Ones who have large eyes and slim bodies with three fingered hands, who possibly may be volatile or just might be of the friendly persuasion.
So who is truly an alien? As in regards to what we perceive of the human mind, are we not all alien to one another? If you are not born in one’s family, you are considered alien? One cannot simply up and enter another’s home just on a pleasant greeting. In a strange land you are always the alien stranger even though you are in your own land. Next door neighbors are strangers who live nearby, and yet they are considered alien to you. Who truly knows anyone?
With the rapid rise of technology, have we not separated ourselves as human beings? Have we not chilled our hearts? Families are not sure anymore who family is. Fear inside families grow abundantly, like wildflowers along a hillside, constantly spreading like a vast blanket across the earth’s surface, growing in abundant clusters of devastation; with no moral attitude to what is right or wrong, dismissing the true nature of our origin that life truly is a remarkable mystery and should not be taken lightly, but enjoyed and wrapped with arms of thankfulness.
Look beyond one’s own selfish greed. Reach out as intended, making not just one’s own life fulfilled, but make the fulfillment for all others, by embracing all others. We are all in this together and there is no out or escape. There is no way to buy your way through. Money is simply a paper product that will one day become worthless. Money hasn’t any backbone. When burned all there is left behind are ashes of nothingness.
Poke is all too real a world without end. The pleasures of wealth have no meaning when life is a repeat of nothing more to come. To believe an existence is nothing but an end to a means, then you must be one who lives in Poke. In Poke, you die, but are forever. In Poke, you return. Look now at what is around you. See what you leave behind. Know what is at your door. Believe in what is ahead.
Rita Roads stood the tallest of the tall. Taller than any female in Poke. Rita read and reread the wall in the hall, and yet believed she was reading the wall for the first time…every time, even though she had already lived that same existence with bits and pieces of Deja vu implanted in memory, Rita had no clue.
Like many souls, Rita never understood the true meaning of existence. Like so many, Rita repeated the same lame unfortunate mistakes in which we all make. Being an alien in her own world without clue and caring, Rita was a Repeat; repeating over thousands of life times, and forever considered a life not worth repeating. For what is the point of repeating a forever life if nothing comes out of its knowledge?
Lloyd Nolan was a Repeat and he stood alongside Rita just as tall and just as oblivious. Together, Lloyd and Rita would have made a perfect match, only their lives were woven in patterns unknown to others as it was to themselves. In all their years at the wall in the hall, side by side, neither had looked upon one another, until then, when it happened out of the blue.
As most anything undecided and predictable, the feeling of Déjà vu incorporated itself inside Rita’s and Lloyd’s lives. After beyond a reckoning of years, these two souls opened their eyes and discovered one another. Their eyes locked. Their minds soared as their souls touched.
A remarkable sensation of vanity had suddenly engulfed within them. Rita and Lloyd became proud, puffed with pride, in believing they deserved happiness. After all, were they not intelligent beings above all else? Superior to any other existing entities. They were of a much higher form and constructed of virtually every means of godly divinity, so shouldn’t they be regarded as such.
Lloyd and Rita became a unit, a one family entity with offspring both male and female. Their life took on sudden change, and the norm was not the norm, but a packaged deal, opened and played with, having a no return policy implied from the very beginning; when the Overseer said to them both…
"Do you?" And Rita and Lloyd said, "I do." Till death do you part was never an inclusion. Death was not a resource or a recourse. The only way out was no way in.
Unknowingly, Lloyd and Rita had themselves been outsiders at one point, who were destined and determined to enter the realm of what only a sum of individuals happen to stumble upon. In the instance of themselves, Rita and Lloyd not only stumbled, but fell into a pit of despair which can be designed as noteworthy, for in reality a real hell of existence is in one’s own mind.
It has been said only ten percent of the human brain is able to comprehend forms of higher existence.
Higher self-knowledge would be closing in on a god-like existence, and superiors who have traveled that road of existence are much too vain to allow their place to be jeopardized. Will is stored within oneself, a preservation of attitude you deserve what you get and not what you want.
The unfortunate impact we all have on life is, we perceive to know more than we know. We believe we have the right qualifications, thus perceive to do as we please, no matter what the consequences of the aftermath of our follies.
As in Rita's case study, Rita was not yet ready or equipped for the life she undoubtedly chose for herself. Rita said I do when she should have said I don't.
The thread was sown and the patch was coming together. Motherhood, wifely duty, and self comes in a package. No longer does individuality fit the spectrum of existence. What was norm no longer can be concentrated in any of Rita's brain patterns. Rita had for the first time become a lost soul without idea. She had no clue what to do with her new profound life. It was as alien to her as if a Mother Ship of extraterrestrials landed in her backyard.
Rita must rid herself of this form of unrecognized life. She fears she has no other alternative but to end the existence of family. The love she and Lloyd felt in the beginning dissolved like a spoonful of sugar dissolves when introduced to liquid. Rita wishes not to dissolve the issue at hand, but to eliminate any traces of a family existence. To do this, Rita must commit the one act play which has been handed down through centuries of time and time again...
Does anyone have the right of murder? Are there ever circumstances where murder can be considered acceptable? Rita believed it so. Rita believed she had the right and was justified in having her life her way. Lloyd, on the other hand, succumbed to his new arrival, and left behind that life of nothingness. Lloyd bettered his life to an upscale result when he implicated Rita's existence into his.
Unlike, Rita, Lloyd embraced change and took what blessings was given to him into his heart and soul. Lloyd respected what he had, what he was, and what he gave up. Lloyd had been inside and outside Poke, now destined to follow a path of change. His next life would prove to be a step up, to a new beginning, for wisdom knocked on Lloyd’s door, and Lloyd answered without hesitation. Rita, on the other hand, answered the knock, only a split second of hesitation froze Rita, and planted in Rita, self-doubt that only need have a hair-crack of existence in which to cause a transitional period. That period which can be accounted in years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds.
It was blistery cold that winter day. The white powder was mounting higher and higher. Fireplaces were burning out of control, wishing they themselves had a place of warmth to curl around. The air was thick and heavy, and lungs had to be more than sufficient when introduced to the outdoors. It was a year like so many other years, when the weak, old, and in-between all live a life of lottery.
If you're number is up, you are counted.
Rita's number was up. Although her family had years yet to reign, that implanted hesitation Rita felt all those years when first meeting Lloyd had now come to light. Rita got it into her skull that if she were to stop her family from existing, she could solve her dilemma, and would be restored to her old self. The same self which Rita had no idea she lived and relived and always lived. Rita moved on only with Lloyd’s acknowledgement, but her existence never turned her. Rita felt trapped inside her new ongoing existence, while her family had moved higher up the rungs of the ladder to a higher ground of reasoning.
Lloyd evolved. Lloyd recognized himself. Lloyd knew what was coming, although he had no idea why he knew, only that he knew. Call it precognition. Call it ESP. Call it whatever you want to call it, it makes no difference. Lloyd surpassed the formidable existence of a Repeat. It was time. Lloyd improved his soul. Now it was time for Lloyd to step up to the plate and take responsibility, and if it meant suffering his soul for his children, then so be it.
Life is what Lloyd received for stopping what was happening from happening. Taking it upon himself to end Rita's existence, Lloyd did not do what one would expect. He did not commit murder. He did not hand Rita over to authorities; those self-indulgent alien beings who believe that they are high among us all. No. What Lloyd did was sensible. Lloyd used that muscle of mystery we all have. He used his brain. He cast Rita out, and drove Rita to the edge, subtle like. Rita never knew what hit her.
Rita's demise was Rita’s own doing. Rita felt trapped within herself and could not see beyond herself indulgence, caring for no other existence, only that of her own. So Lloyd placed Rita at the wall in the hall while under sedation. When Rita awoke and saw the quote for life written on the wall in the hall, for the millionth, billionth, and who knows, possibly the trillionth time; Rita faced that life of nothingness, that path to nowhere, and Rita received her just desserts.