Here's a snippet from what I'm writing:
“Valentine”
Written by Christopher M Harold
It was a rainy night in Amsterdam, Newhurst. Here, lay Michael, a young white male – stretched long, across his couch in a small, tight, box shaped bachelor apartment. He was garbed in a sweat soaked grey ‘NFL’ branded t-shirt, and half-dirty slim blue jeans. He wore his clothes to bed often, as he became exhausted throughout the day during his intense studies. “Click! Clack!” the rain tip-toed across the window pane of dirty glass in the basement level residence inside a similar sized apartment complex, made out of the cheapest materials that money could buy. It’s a shock, that the rain itself didn’t destroy the apartment complex in its quiet rampage that night.
“I feel.. empty.” Michael awoke at around 6:47 AM MST. “I feel as if.. as if all my
energy has been drained from my.. my brain,” he said to himself, as he rose from the old couch full of coffee stains, cigarette ashes and chip crumbs. Michael got up slowly and hunched over from the couch near the table, and as he did: he reached for a cigarette, a lighter and fired up a series of drags. As he was reminiscing on the dream he had just experienced which seemed to go on forever in a linear fashion. He rose to his feet, turned slightly towards the window and opened the curtains slightly to stare into the sky and said, “You’re really out there.. I see you.. I see you everywhere.”
If someone were to be in the same room as Michael, they might conclude that he’s either a paranoid schizophrenic or very religious. His faith in god has always been strong. He never called himself a Christian, as he felt he did not identify with the Western values of Christianity, nor did he consider himself Jewish as he could not find comprehensive Jewish religious texts online or in print, although the Kabbalah had intrigued him to a major degree when he had been able to find the version of the Kabbalah which included Ephemeris as part of its religion. Which is why he decided to coin the term, “Ephemerism” as his natural religion, and
Apsu, the alleged god of the Annunaki, as his supreme being.
Michael had been meditating for quite a while now. For about several weeks in which he had been receiving, or what he seemed to feel he was; messages in the form of images and quiet reassuring voices from God. He felt he was on a path designed by the creator of the universe, and the many multiverses encompassing it. He felt he was Isiah in Heaven and that he was given a mission to enlighten the human race through creativity and art. He felt he knew a lot more than most people at this point in his life – which is why he decided to invest his meagre paycheck he receives from the government every month into stocks and the crypto currency “DOGE coin.” He had analyzed DOGE coin to a great extent through mathematical formulas designed only in sciences such as chemistry, medicine and even through supernatural events. It was a creative process for him, and lead him to great discoveries in the stock market, albeit he did not have enough to ride the trains of opportunity and merely informed investors through means of social media. He felt as if, at this point, all of his opinions on every security were going unheard. He felt it was all falling on deaf ears. And if any investor did end up following his path, they would not thank him nor would they remember his words. Therefore he decided to watch sports, smoke a lot of marijuana, watch a lot of porn, and sleep most of the day when he wasn’t on the computer analyzing things.
What he didn’t know: was that somebody
was watching him. Many people. Some on earth, might refer to them as the “Illuminati.” Some might refer to them as “big government.” What Michael was sure of was that this enlightened group of individuals were polymathematicians, artists, scientists, doctors, lawyers, technicians, engineers, CEO’s, bankers etc. He wondered often why they never sent a
goon of theirs to knock on his door and sweep him away in a limousine and take him to Los Angeles and just
get it over with. But, a limousine black or any other colour on the spectrum was
not going to sweep him away any time soon. His path was
different. Did it mean that he wasn’t going to be in the “illuminati?” No. It meant that he needed to work for his position, much like every other member. He also didn’t know his real *******. He was given multiple names over the course of his life time by his mom and her mom. His great grandmother didn’t know, his whole family didn’t know, and he was starting to form ideas as to who his real ******* could be. Michael had looked up multiple videos online and read many articles about other Michaels which he was named after. Michael Bur, the hedge fund manager of Elise Capital was one he had in mind. Michael had been diagnosed as someone on the autism spectrum as having mild autism in the form of something called,
Aspergers Syndrome. This had always fancied his interests. He felt he was not
normal and
extremely difficult, and hard to understand most of the time. He felt as if his creativity was not only being taken for granted by society, but misunderstood as Schizophrenia. And it was Michael Bur who also had Aspergers Syndrome. His mom didn’t have a diagnosis for it, so it only made sense to him at the time that Bur did not remember his own *******, as he had globe trotted for a majority of his life after high school, before Bur had went to Vanderbilt for Medicine.
He also had hair like the actor, Michael Ricardo, from
That’s His Name. He had often been referred to as ‘Gerald’ during his years in school in reference to the actor’s character with wild hair on the TV show. He had also been told he had a “jew fro,” which he never understood the etymology behind the term. Michael believed himself to be half-Jewish. His mom had been addicted to crack an addictive white substance and methamphetamines for a majority of her life, which is what lead him to believe that Bur had left his mom once she became addicted to an addictive white substance. It was stories from his step ******* that lead him to question the validity of his mom’s and her mom’s stories about his real heritage. He had tried to find his real ******* on familytreez.com before he realized he couldn’t even remember his mom’s birthdate. He literally had no idea who he really was or where he came from other than his crack-addled mom’s womb. It was an egregious thought: that he came from such a loser and godless heathen in this world, and that he was quite literally an accident and not even a glimmer in his parent’s eyes. He often envied many other children with parents and friends, and networks of colleagues in their older years as he did not have any of these and had been turned down from every single job and interview in the past four years since quitting his job as a cashier. Michael was the best cashier Value Tire could ask for, until he realized he was being promised an increase in wages that was never delivered. Nor was any promotion or increase in hours. He only got extra hours whenever his work called him in. He felt he was valuable because he was persistent, hard working and always picked up other people’s garbage so to speak and correct the negative differences. Albeit, his value was not recognized by his employer, so he quit. He quit to become a mascot, a job he was good at and felt he could perform greatly at. Although, after being a mascot for half a year, he quickly found out that he had become a dancing monkey for apathetic students and fans of a dismally performing Newhurst college team with absolutely zero relevance on a world stage.
Michael turned towards his bedroom, which was inside the same square shaped room that all of his other belongings were in. Shelves, desks, microwave etc. It was all clustered into one geometrically designed room complete with a bathroom and small kitchen with a counter top for preparing sandwiches. Mostly peanut butter sandwiches. Or at least, that’s what they expected their tenants to eat. Michael ate differently. Michael ate only when he was
hungry. He usually sustained himself on
nine dollar bags of corndogs from Ready Mart across the street, soda pop, water, chips, fast food, and whatever the food bank had that month, as he only received
one-thouand six-hundred and eighty five dollars per month, which had to include a hefty
eight-hundred and fifty dollar rent payment; which would eventually be increased and slowly implode his budgets over the coming years and drive him into a never ending debt spiral. He walked away from the window and towards his closet, deciding which clothes to put on. That’s when it hit him like a brick:
the black power.
Michael had been infatuated with the African American culture for quite some time since the advent of rapper ‘
M&M.’ M&M changed hip-hop culture for the white ******* initially. He released a series of albums concerning his alternate persona “
Slim” which was a rebellion of conventional ideas and notions on everything from sex, gender, intercourse, media, politics and the list goes on forever. He was the first person in his class, if not the elementary school to purchase the album
The M&M Performance. This album changed white culture to a major degree, as where his previous albums were merely reaching a limit towards something bigger and eventually something much more personal in years to come from the rapper. Michael wanted to emulate this white rapper in every dynamic and property: from the clothes, to the colour and style of his hair and the words he used. He saw him as his supreme being before God had ever been mentioned in his household. Which is why he worshipped the rapper. Except, Michael’s form of worship was much different than many other forms of worship in religion. He didn’t want to build a
temple for the rapper so to speak, but he wanted to meet him and at least tell him how he impacted his life and let
that be that. He wanted to show the rapper
his messed up household. His household was very similar to what M&M had experienced during his adolescent years. Which is why he felt so compelled to listen to the messages that the rapper had to convey to the public in the form of music. Michael, in his teenage years, turned to
Kessle, an independent, ambient rock group that had been the butt of many “
what kind of music do you like?” jokes to many masculine and ignorant males who looked down upon betas with sensitive attitudes and major intellectual capacity such as himself. Betas, or what many at that time would call
nerds.
Michael was considered a nerd mainly because he was too
fat to compete in many physical events such as running around the school, hurdles, weight lifting, and eventually wrestling. Wrestling was the climax of Michael’s physical education career so to speak. It was at a round robin tournament that Michael had been ill prepared by his guardians at the time for the sport. Without the proper equipment, such as wrestling spandex, ear muffs, and wrestling shoes, he was bound to fail. His penis had been exposed, not once, but twice during his time in junior high physical activities due to the lack of preparation from his guardians. The first time was during his first, and only official wrestling match in which he ended his record at
zero-one. He was told to take his shirt off, which exposed his large protruding belly and muffin top, and was left in nothing but shorts. He was quickly pinned to the ground when the match started by somebody who was half his size because Michael’s first thought was not “how can I get this man to the ground in the shortest amount of time?” But rather, “What am I going to do now that everyone is laughing at my appearance in front of my teacher and who I thought were my friends who are now laughing along with the crowd?” Michael’s guardians held their heads in shame. And they should have too since it was their fault that their baby had not been able to compete to the fullest extent of his ability. The second time was at track and field day. Michael had been doing very well at other events, even though he came in third at long jump. He was going against a man dressed entirely in
cowboy garb. Right down to the studded boots. Michael was so confident at this point during the day since he was going up against somebody who
he believed to be ill prepared. When the race started, and Michael jumped over the first hurdle, his shorts fell down around his ankles and he fell to the ground with a loud
smack. The entire crowd of spectators ranging from parents, students, teachers, neighbours and the like looked on towards Michael and his misery. He was bareback, lying on the ground with his shorts around his ankles as the cowboy went on to complete every hurdle in the race before he could even come to his senses. He was harassed endlessly by students in pursuing days, and the staff never reached out to him to ask him how he was feeling or why that specific event had occuured.
The black power was just that:
humiliation. Humiliation from a higher physical being on earth. Perhaps, so differently coloured to the point where it was overbearing or omnipresent much like the view from the human eyes before they enter REM sleep.
Michael shook his head. He had no idea what was invading his thoughts, or his
brain for that matter. He rummaged through his closet, searching for a sweatshirt to wear in place of his sweat soaked t-shirt. He stopped rummaging and looked towards his open suitcase with a blonde wig on top of it, and a pink bag full of girl’s clothes, underwear and shoes inside of it. He knew what that black power was: it was more than his sexual fantasy of being gang raped by black males. It was his desire to be noticed by man. By the power of man. What man has to offer. Not women, not man himself, but the human mind and the human objective. The human objective, to Michael, was
success. Success came in many forms to him. Whether it was
successfully designing a chart on his computer, or amassing major amounts of wealth during his lifetime. He felt he never had the opportunity to display his
true beauty to the world. He felt he needed to wear
something else that would convey his emotions to the public. Whether that be women’s clothing, which he could currently afford in small doses, or eventually a three piece European fitting suit that many of the world renown talents wear on a daily basis.
He reached for the wig, and laid it out on his twin sized bedding. Then he reached for the pink bag, and emptied all of its contents onto the bed and threw the bag to his left. He stared intensely at the clothing before his eyes and contemplated not only what he wanted to wear in that current moment, but
why he
continued to dress up, knowing full well that he’s lanky, firm, smelly, salty, hairy, and tall. Everything that a male consists of. He did not feel
right when he put the clothes on, but rather
awkward. Once the bra and panties were on snug, he didn’t feel the need to put on any other clothing, but did so anyways to complete the process which seemed to repeat itself almost every day. The wig offered a sense of
completeness to the outfit. If it wasn’t for the long, bright hair that laid on his bed, and the pink flower he strapped to it, he would be a practically hairless mould of a man in women’s garb. And it would show greatly. The wig was the only thing compelling him to keep buying sex toys or even half-heartedly believing he was
transgender. He knew that he wasn’t a woman, and when the gender doctor asked him if he was, he replied with, “no.” Michael was one-hundred percent certain that he was born a male and would die a male. Man, woman, government, nor God could take that away during his lifetime.
He had a name for his alternate personality:
Kaylee Aberdeen Valentine.
Kaylee, he believed, was from another part of the solar system. Another universe entirely. Perhaps, from another constellation and star from which he was born. And it was
true. Michael had yet to meet the men and women from the
Valley who would later confirm his suspicions, but Kaylee was a very special person of the lesser god, and lover of Apsu,
Tiamat. Tiamat was the supreme deity that created woman in her image, and in spite of Apsu’s creation of the male. It was Tiamat’s human women who lead Apsu’s human male creations astray from the beginning of time. It began with the angels of the many fields of
Everlesce which was a plant that grew only in certain constellations and on certain stars which the angels brought with them to earth, and to the giants that Apsu had created, which opened up, or rather
destroyed and closed off certain pathways of the brain. The action of
smoking the Everlesce which contained a psychoactive element, caused the giants to believe the angels’ plans regarding woman’s destiny on planet
Earth. When in fact, it was the angels who were doing unspeakable activities with the female angels, who hailed from planets where Everlesce was ingrained in the natural environment’s oxygen agent. This natural causation of Everlesce in the female angel’s environment is why they are thought to be
evil or
misleading by Apsu and many other male angels and giants.
After the initial consumption of the divine plant, called
God’s Plant on Earth, and consumed medicinally by almost every being on the planet, the devastation ensued on the soil. That’s when Kaylee, and her
Valentinians trounced on the opportunity to mislead human society and economies for the benefit of her creator Tiamat.
Valentinius, was her lover. Valentinius existed in ancient
Edes where Kaylee and Valentinius' soldiers conquered
Graceland and overthrew the empire which Apsu’s soldiers and angels alike had worked diligently to create and maintain for centuries. It was Kaylee’s henchman who killed Valentinus in his sleep, while Kaylee designed her grand plan for human domination. She wrote her plan out in annuls. The annuls were then compiled into
The Divine Testament. This testament consisted of two-hundred books containing over a thousand pages each, hand written in legible ink, and created in silence and meditation while her
Valentine empire was mitigated by her soldiers. She lead the soldiers astray with Everlesce during private parties she threw under the guise of her close confidant,
Elemin. 
