Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Now you’re talking my language…”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The biggest scam you can pull on people is to tell them a lie they want to believe. A lie so convincing to their need to be loved, protected, and rescued, they will hurt or kill others who do not also believe in the same propaganda. A lie so monumental, the truth is considered blasphemy. A lie so well plotted and outrageous, one ignores one’s closest friends who show concern for their philosophies—the catalyst for abandonment of their families if they dare to not follow suit, and the reason they forsake their very own children, if the perpetuators of the lie state that they must. A lie with deceptive expectation that is so vast, if it does not come to fruition, there is a built-in contingency plan that points to the believer as the drawback…
It was YOUR problem. You didn’t believe hard enough.
It was YOUR fault. You didn’t pray long enough.
It was YOUR issue. You doubted the power of the lie, and lost out on the promise.
One of the cruelest tricks mankind has done is this very thing here. It is easy when there is comfort in being a sheep. Sheep do not question. They do not complain. Sheep sleep. Their heads are forever in the sand, and their eyes continuously closed. They accept their lot in life. But every now and again, a black sheep is born to ask his brothers and sisters: Why are you following the herder into the slaughter?
Do not be discouraged. There is hope, for one of the most major, harshest, and most beautiful gifts from the universe is realizing that your fellow man misled you for his own personal gain, but NOW, you know, understand, and accept the cold, hard truth… And you can finally heal, survive, and thrive. YOU ARE AWAKE. YOUR EYES ARE OPEN. Only a few out of hundreds have the mental and spiritual discernment and strength to notice they are being led off a cliff. Those few have awakened from their slumber and parachute down to safer ground…
“Reign of the Queens” – Dr. Saint Aknaten
Nikolai closed the book he was reading, a self-improvement one by a sex and relationship therapist as well as a scholar by the name of, Dr. Saint Aknaten. The book was about the many of the ‘isms’ of the world, aimed at assisting men with their personal, spiritual, mental and emotional development. He made a mental note of the page he was on, closed it, and placed the book inside his jacket pocket. This was one of his favorite things to do. Read books on history, particularly battles and wars, as well as psychology, and every now and again, self-help books such as this one.
He sat on a couch in the old house he’d grown up in—his usual spot for reading while visiting his father who’d predictably be sitting in front of his TV. The walls were a depressing gray color, darkened from years of cigarette smoke.
He looked about the room, feeling a tad bit queasy. Where there once stood a cabinet full of guns that were more for display than use, was now replaced by a fairly new television, hanging slightly lopsided, where a football game was going on. His father sat slumped in his blue lazy boy chair, his frail ankles in brown socks that barely stayed up. Feet supported by a threadbare footstool, his slippers threatened to slip off as they dangled from his toes.
The house had the distinct odor of piss. Pee pads for the hound dog, Dorsie, lay around in the hallway, unchanged for days. Nikolai stood, muttering a string of curses as he began cleaning all of the feces up. Dorsie was a good dog, so he had no reason to take his aggravation out on her. Besides, she had to relieve herself—there was no one to blame but Dad. But he couldn’t blame him, either.
He glanced back at his old man a few times as he tossed the soaked, heavy mats into a trash bag, then set it all by the back door to take out and dump. He went to the kitchen and ignored the teacups, plates, and glasses piled up in the sink, most caked with dried food, as well as the overwhelming odor of a mildewed sponge. He reached under the sink cabinet and grabbed the bottle of bleach and a bucket, filling it with hot water, a bit of cleaner, and the disinfectant. He then soaked the soiled sponge in dish detergent and bleach for a good few minutes, squeezed it out hard, and made quick work of cleaning the urine stains on the floor and wall where the pee pads had been.
After finishing that chore, he washed his hands, placed a leash on Dorsie, and took her outside for a quick walk down the street. He and the dog trotted along the uneven concrete pavement, pausing every so often so she could take a whiz and dump along the way.