The day sweltered. Sweat beaded together on my forehead, dripping down my face in rivulets. It was Saturday, the 31st of December 2022. The last day of yet another dull, uneventful year in the life of this targeted individual.
I scrolled through twitter, refreshing MSM news. Nothing new. Same stupid trolls and trashy headlines. I looked at the fools speaking in a variety of hashtags. Nothing truly enlightening or intelligent seemed to come from them. I wondered if it was some sort of disease. It surprised me, all these likes that such utterances collected. What had happened to the world where wisdom was mocked and vulgarity applauded?
The house was empty, not that it mattered, because I spend 23 out of 24 hours a day in my room. Why? It’s just who I am. I spend time outside, meditating with my crystals, using the sun to cleanse my energy field and the earth to realign my magnetic field. Then, it is inside, in front of the laptop to play games, study or work.
I heard a car pull up in the drive. It was an unusual sounding engine, the silent type of an expensive car. The engine died. I resumed my scrolling of social media. Four doors slammed at once, bringing me out of my daze. Heavy footsteps walked up the drive. Fumbling hands opened the makeshift latch on the broken gate. It opened. It closed. Footsteps moved forward stopping outside my window.
‘Wonderful,’ I thought to myself. ‘Gang stalking fuckwits trying to trigger me, again. Ain’t they learned anything about me?’
“Louise, we know you’re in there,” drawled a voice.
‘Well, of course they know I’m in here. They monitor my movements. They know I know this. They must be idiots if they think they need to tell me something they already know that I know.’ I thought about telling them to get bent in concise grammar and clear English. Or better yet, the F word.
“We want to talk to you about this situation.”
‘Now, that is new.’ In a bemused voice, I answered, “Really? Well, to date you only talk at me, expecting me to do what you ask. So, please, talk at me and I will ignore you.”
Their technology bleeped. ‘Fake,’ I thought.
“Louise, we know you want a deal. We know you want your children. We know you want a job, to have wealth and to have your own place. We know you don’t want to be stalked any longer. After 50 years and all the things we’ve done to you, we’ve come to tell you, it’s time.”
“It’s always time, boys. The clock is always ticking,” I responded. I stood up, moved to my bed and pulled the curtins over. There were four clean cut, black suited, red tied, black shoed and white shirted men standing with sunnies on. Freemasons. They had finally showed up. This was new. For a long time I was convinced that they were not running the stalking on me, nor were they actively observing me, only because I had given them the yes answer to their requests on the conditions that the previous promises were fulfilled and that they engaged my services with a written contract. I figured that the Joe Blows spying on me were the base of the pyramid, the people with no power. There was no way I was going to lose my salvation and eternal piece and not get anything from the material realm. And in one of the men’s hands there was an envelope. I arched an eyebrow at them. “You are kidding, aren’t you?”
They shook their heads. “No,” answered the one closest to me. “We aren’t kidding. We want to come inside and talk to you. We have a contract. We just need you to sign it.”
“Well, you know the back is unlocked, so like, whatever. It’s not like you respect a persons privacy anyway.”
I stayed in my bedroom. I heard the footsteps circle around the back of the house, down the other side. The laundry door opened and closed. I opened my door and there they were. I was standing face to face with four spit polished Freemasons dinky die freaking robots. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing at how seriously they took themselves.
The envelope was thrust into my hand. I glanced down. It had my name on it. “Open it,” ordered the one closest to me.
“Stay there, assholes,” I said, and turned to sit at my desk. To their credit they obeyed like the well-trained dogs I had always thought they were. They did not retaliate when I gave them an accurate assessment of the kind of people they are.
I tore open the envelope. There were several hundred-dollar bills and a written contract. I read the contract. It had everything in it that I had demanded for years. After all, he who has what the other wants gets to set the price on the commodity. I picked up my phone, logged into my bank account, and sure enough, there was a million as payment for the abuse I suffered from some sort of company. This was going to complicate things with Centrelink.
Reading the rest of the contract, I frowned. Things had changed. At one time in my life, I would have happily sold my soul to see all three of my children again and be a part of their lives. This contract promised me I would no longer be stalked, and my privacy would be fully restored. “Wow,” I mumbled beneath my breathe. “There is some things here I didn’t ask for. I must be worth a lot more than I realised.”
“You are. There has never been another person to have stood up to us the way you have. We know your worth. We always have. Since you became righteous and stopped sinning your worth has shot through the roof. Thing is, we need you to become a prostitute. We have seen the foundation you are creating for yourself. The bottom line is you win this war. We want to purchase your sexual energy. We want your soul. We don’t want you to come back to this planet in the future and reap the good karma you’re earning in this life. Sometimes, if you can’t beat them, invite them to join. So, Louise, how about it. We’ve given a down payment this time and we are offering you everything you’ve always wanted but never had in this lifetime. Will you sign the contract? We are willing to keep our promises to change the narrative this time.”
I turned around and gazed at these boys. They weren’t real men. They didn’t act like real men. They were part of an operation that had stolen 50 years of my life, along with my family, my intellectual property and caused me enormous amounts of grief.
What I had wanted once, I didn’t care about any longer. I had gone for so long without and had learned a new way of being, stepping onto the path of enlightenment. I knew that as long as I paid my karma forward, I would have what I wanted in my next life and possibly end up being in a position where I could begin to dismantle the evil forces on this planet. I guess they knew it too.
Will I sign the contract?
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