Tag Archives: thriller

Nathan’s Public Journal | IV

Sunday, 12/20/2020

When the cleaning crew arrived, the majority are ladies, and they’re attractive.

As soon as I saw them come in to collect their keys for access; their bodies burned that red and fiery orange color that orbed around their physique, but there was something different; I could see a light brownish glow that came from their brain. This color was new, or… I didn’t recognize it before. And as they would get closer, and closer, to the security desk, that brownish color intensified to it’s darkest form.

After issuing them their keys, WarCof appears next to me and asks, “Why do you see that color?”

Ignoring WarCof, I escort them to the elevators of the second floor.

My security desk is stationed on the second floor of my building of 4; my building is located on the west wing also know as West Tower-2 (WT2). There are 24 floors to each of these 4 buildings, and they’re built perpendicular to each other: North, South, East, and West.

They were built in this way for its main attraction, which is a globe that hangs in the middle connecting each of these towers at the 12th floor.

The elevators have two sets of doors; the first set grants access to visitors, tenants, and vendors to the Towers; the second set will open exclusively for authorized personal to the globe, but no tenants, vendors, or visitors have access—making my job that much more fun—not even the third party management company that answers directly to GE, or God’s Eye, we call it, has access without security, into the globe.

GE stands for Global Earth, which is the company name of very powerful people I have yet to meet in person, and to the best of my knowledge the globe functions as a meeting lab for Avengers. Okay, well, not exactly. But it gives off that feel … considering the secrecy and philanthropic vibe by research, and having observed the evolving change and activity from a distance for 7 years; it’s a mystery, and way way above my pay grade to care that much.

On the way to the elevators, the cleaning crew is in front of me, and the ladies have my attention whether they’d asked for it or not. They are talking in their native tongue, Spanish. Some are giggling while making subtle glances in my direction; young, early twenties, somewhat petite, but the worst part is…they’re desirable, and they know it.

My routine is rote which makes this part of my job very dangerous in that I’m human and experience what humans desire; which if not controlled, compromises the nature of my position to prevent liability, maintain integrity, and hold dear my vows to Laura; the vulnerability of the human condition is sensitive to the extreme, and for some odd reason the reproductive system of my body ignites this desire to be fruitful and multiply more children of wrath in this world.

These colors of light about these ladies is entrancing… How the deep dark red is pulsating to their hearts’ beat, their bodies lit a flame that orbs about them, and now, how the color of their minds are shifting shades of brown as I draw closer or further away. I stare more intently at the color of their mind and feel this urg—

DING” – “SECOND FLOOR—GOING DOWN

Distracted by the elevator’s artificial operator, I think to myself “Why do I see that color?”, and quickly come to my senses.

It’s afterhours and in the event there is any malfunction, especially an indicator of a technological glitch in the artificial intelligent geware; I must be ready to respond and immediately notify PM—Property Management—which technically is that third party management service aforementioned, so they can quickly report the issue and await further instruction. I’m more or less a backup system in the event of a cyber crisis, and the geware system need be shutdown; or basically, quite simply, the elevator doors, just…don’t open.

On the way back to the security desk I process the color activity between me and those attractive women, why did the color behave like that?

Then WarCof, still with me, said—”Nathan, you don’t see your own color for a reason, but as you’ve already witnessed: there is a blue to green light orb that describes the essence of men, so too, you have in like fashion as they. As both these colors between men and women collide, a language is revealed. A language of activity that has the power to reveal an active truth. And as those ladies drew nearer to you, the colors revealed the nature of your sin, your desire; humans have a chemical energy and radiance that influences the behavior in which you were experiencing. When the green orbs of men clashes with the orange orbs of women, information that is invisible to the human eye you now have access to see, and the brown color in the minds of those women—you found attractive—reveals a nature of sin that is in every human.”

Stunned, I didn’t know what to think. I went on autopilot and continued to process every word of what WarCof said… and in that state, I remained.

I arrive home, it’s late, Laura is already asleep, but there she lay in all her magnificence, with that beautiful deep red to fiery purple orb that lights up the dark just right, it’s perfect, and incredible. The light behaves in such a way that it brings peace as she sleeps, “pfffffffff…” then there’s this loudest fart that came out of nowhere vibrating the entire room, strong enough to disturb the colors of the orb. That was amazing and quite profound, I thought it would never end. She shuffles a little bit, unconsciously, like she was about to wake up, but nope. No matter.

I can’t help but to watch her sleep, like a creeper, and I have so many questions. Like… why does her mind not behave like that of the other women? I don’t see the brown glow in her mind? Is she attracted to me? Have I no attraction for her? Does she not have that sin as WarCof said? Was WarCof wrong? Can I trust what WarCof is telling me? Is something wrong…

THE TASTE OF IMMORTALITY

Nathan’s Public Journal | III

Thursday, 12/17/2020

Laura burns with a different color than the other women I see. Her heart burns with that same intense deep red, but where there is a fiery orange for the other women… Laura has a gorgeous purple similar to that of WarCof. “Why”, I say to WarCof, but then everything unfreezes and WarCof is disappeared, gone. Everything returned as though nothing happened, but something remained…


Okay, the bigger font is our story. I still have the date at the top of our journal post to indicate the present time. The military time (Time ####—) I used in the previous journal entry NPJ | II was to log the actual time I was writing that day to describe my events of that day—that actually occurred, other than the fantasy aspect of the narration—I’m using for the beginning of our story. And to prevent any confusion between fiction or nonfiction; I’m using this smaller font as my true nonfictional self (Hi, my name is Nathan), where as now, the…

bigger font

…has evolved into our story line, which includes fiction with the nonfiction. The fiction, of course, involves: WarCof and these now supernatural affects/abilities to our characters that describe our eternal realm that surrounds us, and is truly about us. This story is describing a very present and real taste of immortality, but also told from a very real dying and human perspective, of which the meaning is revealed as the story continues. Okay, now back to the story—where Nathan is still at NorthPark Center with Laura having a mental breakdown…


My head is spinning, I’m dizzy. I could hear the muffled tone of Laura’s concerned voice, “Honey, are you okay?” But it was like waking up from a vivid dream, processing what I’d just dreamt. But in this case witnessed, thinking—did that just really happen, is this really happening—do I really have these new abilities, what is going on?

I feel this pain in my head gradually increasing as I look at Laura; her body is transparent by this deep pulsating dark red, the color moves with each beat—thu-dump, thu-dump, thu-dump—of her heart, causing a ripple like effect; the light is as constant as her pulse, like it’s alive or something; as the light moves outward from her heart to the shape of her body, that dark red transitions to light red at her frame; then right at the exterior of her frame, the colors converge into this fiery purple, giving off this orb like glow that extends out into her surrounding space. It’s magnificent…

“‘AHH!’ ‘OU!’ ‘SSS-GAWW!'” It’s painful to look at her for too long.

Laura’s tone becomes desperate, “Honeyyyy, talk to me, what’s wrong?” “EMMMM—my head … hurts. Might be a migraine?”, I lie.

We’re on the second floor of the shopping center, a railing is close by; the center of the mall opens up from floor to ceiling, revealing the two dividing floors where escaladers are strategically stationed at select locations for consumers to ascend and descend between the floors.

I stumble to the railing, catching myself, while hearing Laura’s elevated tone, “Honey!? … Honey!?? Do you need to sit down!? Are you okay!?”

We are not far from the food court, and the place is packed with all kinds of humans! The light shining from each person gives off an extraordinary combination of colors, especially as they get closer to the orbs of other people. It’s fascinating!

While I’m on the railing, I can see the first floor where people are walking under us oblivious to who’s looking from above.

I try my best to keep my composure; I have one hand on my face squeezing my head with my index finger and thumb, while the other hand is holding myself up on this rail—with the help of Laura, of course.

I close my eyes, shake my head violently, blink rapidly, and several times. I’m trying to adapt to this changing condition and new ability of my sight to these colors of light; I don’t understand it—obviously—it’s not making any sense, why would it?

I mumble… “WarCof” … “What! Who?”, Laura asked. “Oh uh— nothing”, I say quickly, while thinking to myself; how do I know his name?

I could feel Laura’s arm squeeze tighter; she had wrapped it around me to prevent the worst possible outcome, going over the rail when I’d stumbled over to it; she is trying to hold me up—deeply concerned that I’m about to pass-out or something, “Come on honey, let’s go.”

She motions to that bench, that bench where the kid was above—frozen mid air—now, available.

I’m catching glimpses of peoples’ attention drawing on us now, and I can feel Laura’s anxiety spiking. People walking by us are slowing down.

Aware of what’s happening; I try to adapt immediately to fake a normal composure, but I can feel myself changing, and it’s extremely painful with each step. My brain is throbbing, and the vibration of my steps—intensifies the pain.

It felt like eternity, but finally, a place to sit.

The bystanders are curious, I can feel them. I tell Laura, “I don’t feel so good.” Laura wanted to call the police, but I’d noticed already, several were close by, acting aloof, while Laura was still waiting on my answers after so many unanswered frantic questions. “No, no! I’m okay, I’m okay!” I said.

I’m obviously not okay, but attempting to explain the nature of my condition would land me in a Psych ward.

“Let’s go home.” I say to Laura. “Okay, babae kissies”, she says ever so sweetly. So I muster the strength to get up, and hopefully, walk normal—which might look like I was either drugged or drunk to onlookers watching our every move. I mean it does, indeed, look weird seeing a grown man leaning on a cute little Mexican woman for support.

But then again, looking around, the other men with Hispanic ladies are doing the same thing. I guess I’m not the only husband getting la chancla at home, one guy even used Morse code to signal an S.O.S. from the light of his phone in his pocket and also—”these women are crazy, man, help me”—I signaled back—dude, mine knows that signal, are you trying to get us killed—his eyes got massive, face full of fear, and then we smiled facetiously as we moved along.

As soon as Laura and I make it back to our decked-out four door 2035 hovering Toyota Corolla LE that counters the gravitation pull… or rather, the momentum of the earths rotational force around the sun influx of our Milky Way galaxy’s trajectory into dark matter and energy—Laura pops’ the trunk, throws me in saying, “I saw the Morse code.”, and pulls out this chancla I’d never seen before.


The End.


Okay, not really, but once inside our normal gas engine vehicle, I passed out cold—dead asleep. I hardly remember getting out of the car to find our bed once we’d arrived home, and thankfully, I didn’t have work until Thursday 12/17/2020.


Two days later—today.


I’d slept for nearly two days, woke up feeling like it was any other day, and just in time to get ready for work.

I could hear Laura downstairs in the kitchen, probably preparing me something to eat now, and a meal for later. I quickly get dressed in my security uniform and go downstairs. BOOM! I hit the door at the end of our staircase as soon as I see Laura. There she is in all her fiery red purple glow as she stands in the kitchen stunned and confused by my display.

It all came back to me, and I remember the WarCof encounter and the sound of his voice.

Thinking to myself What do these colors mean? as I make my way to Laura, still somewhat confused. “Something’s going on with you?”, she says. “Me, naww, I’m alright, much better now that I’ve slept.” I kiss her, but could tell that Laura wasn’t buying it, and time didn’t allow for further investigation.

I ate fast, grabbed my meal and supplies for work, and said, “Thank you, Love, I love you.” Laura walks me to the door, watches me like some creeper as I walk to the car. Just kidding, she always beholds me with great wonder and enthusiasm as I strut to the car like I’m the king of the world because she’s watching.

I put my things in the back seat, just behind the drivers side, and as soon as I get in the car—WarCof.

WarCof appears in the passenger side seat in all his amazing glory scaring the death, literally, out of me, “How did yo—” “Drive!”

I put the car in gear and head north from south Dallas. “What is going on?” I ask with subtle fear and intense hope, “You know the scriptures, and where it speaks of what this experience is…” “No, no I don’t, and how do I know your name? WarCof.” “Don’t worry about driving.” There was a brief silence. “…What!?” “I know where your occupation is—so don’t worry about driving.” This was weird, I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I kept silent.

I continued to drive in disbelief of his instruction. I didn’t say another word, but for some reason, his company remained with me in the passenger seat. So we just sat there, in silence, the whole way to my job site in the metroplex of Dallas TX. Once I’d arrived onsite, clocked in for duty, WarCof was still at my side—or at least, within proximity of my sight. His presence was powerful, nothing like anything to compare from an earthly description.

I stationed myself at the security desk after making a patrol of the site, checking the high priority areas inside the high-rise office building first, then the integrity of the garage and building structure next. The cleaning services were about to arrive, and would need access into certain tenants’ offices with a red dot on their door handle indicating ‘authorized personal only’.

When the cleaning crew arrived, the majority are ladies, and they’re attractive. As soon as I saw them coming into the building to collect their keys for access, their bodies burned with that red and fiery orange color that orbed around their physique, but there was something different. I could see a light brownish glow that came from their brain. This color was new, or… I didn’t recognize it before. As they would get closer and closer to the security desk, that brownish color intensified to it’s darkest form.

After issuing them their keys, WarCof appears next to me and asks, “Why do you see that color?”


Okay, we’ll get to there in a our next journal entry (NPJ | IV). Until then, be thinking about this scripture: For in the case of those who have once been enlightened and have tasted of the heavenly gift and have been made partakers of the Holy Spirit, 5 and have tasted the good word of God and the powers of the age to come, 6 and then have fallen away, it is impossible to renew them again to repentance, since they again crucify to themselves the Son of God and put Him to open shame.

THE TASTE OF IMMORTALITY

Nathan’s Public Journal | II

Tuesday, 12/15/2020

Time 0140—In the morning of this brisk, silent, night. Well, “silent”… as in a feeling; my beautiful wife is breathing in a way that indicates REM sleep, and there is a sound of warm air blowing through the ventilation system—to fight off the cold in the night; awe of course, and the sound of the ‘k’ ‘e’ ‘y’ ‘s’ mashing against my keyboard as my fingers mean to type quietly. I don’t want to awaken the… Naura; ooooohhhh…I’m joking-I’m Joking! My wife (Laura), is the sweetest; even if she woke up, she’d probably unconsciously give me a hug and a kiss, then back to bed.

So after listening to the critique, well… honest advice, of my wife, on the original version to this journal entry (12/12-14/2020), decided on a different tactic for this post. I won’t bore you on the details because written well, it won’t matter.

Don’t mind skipping past the reference structure below. It’s my map.


  • Jesus Christ is my belief structure.
    1. What does that mean? (salvation).
      1. Human soul and God.
        1. Saved by grace through faith.
        2. How does faith work?
  • I love my wife—priority.
    1. She is the core/center of my responsibilities.
      1. I need structure.
        1. Public Journal/accountability
  • Job with hours to aid me on this trajectory.
    1. Not ideal, but blessed.
      1. I work nights and days.
      2. Best option at the moment.
        1. Aim for only nights if available.
        2. Or learn how to write, like, very good!
  • Psychology Professor—Jordan Peterson.
    1. Mentor/Maps of Meaning/(biblical skeptic?)
      1. I think Jordan’s strategy to understand ‘meaning’ is awesome!
  • My personality— understand and improve.
    1. 1 Peter 3:15 (but sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence;)
      1. There is a hope in the personality of a believer.
        1. My personality is wild; I want to understand it.
  • Skill/s to master:
    1. Writing.
    2. Videography.
  • Goal/s…
    • Is there more than one?
      • Where is the sacred ground?
        • What is this going to do?
          • How will this be effective?
            • What is the sacrifice?
              • Will the practice, preach?
                • What does it mean?
                  • When is it time to plant?
  • The seed is to sanctify Christ as Lord in my heart.

Time 0439—Just completed a couple scheduled devotionals (P1-V15 and P1-V16). Now that, that work is prepped; it frees me up to get creative with this public journal. The idea is to write in a way that tells a story, a true story, but with a twist. The reason this journal is public is to benefit both the writer, but more importantly, the reader. And I can’t have you bored out of your mind. So let me go get some more coffee real quick as I think about you in this story of ours.

Time 0519—I kid you not, as soon as I grabbed my coffee cup to head downstairs, Laura says to me, “Are you getting coffee?” Mind you, she has no idea what I’d just written, the room is dark (other than the candle next to me), and she couldn’t see that I’d grabbed my cup (because a black fabric blocks her view as it hangs from our ceiling nearly the length of our desk). This might be prophetic—said facetiously. I asked her how she knew I was going to get coffee, and she says “I don’t know.” I mean, that’s just providential!

Anyway, as I thought of you while getting coffee; I was inspired by the written word of God, to have a title for our story:

THE TASTE OF IMMORTALITY

Time 0911—We live in the realm of the eternal, this isn’t a fictional story. There are fictional names to real characters in mine and your stories, but our land of the eternal is very real—nonfictional (actually occurring) as we live today. There are enemies and friendlies that move all around and about us, so listen closely as we venture into the world of the eternal. And experience the taste of immortality.

Time 2111—There is a character by the name of WarCof, also known by his initials (WC). It’s getting late; I have less than 3 hours. The time is dark, evil is lurking. WarCof is an image-bearer of the Light, an eternal being known as the—Wonderful Counselor. The earth at this time of our lives, is also know as—the world of wrath. This world of wrath is presently an age of what feels like an eternal hell; these earthly beings are wearing face masks, carrying hand sanitizers and disinfectants, maintaining social distancing to prevent the spread of the inevitable consequence of sin—death.

Time 2145—Laura and I (Nathan), decided to go out into the world of wrath between the gap of 0911-2111; for nearly 6 hours, we were out at a shopping center called NorthPark; we exchanged clothing items that were the wrong fit for us at the H&M shop, and found a gift for a close relative. The shopping center was packed with people, and as Laura and I walked a couple laps, the strangest thing started to happen with my eyes.

At first, all I saw was gray, the color gray was everywhere; the shops, the people, the merchandise, everything with a physical form was gray. I blinked a few times, no change. I closed my eyes and rubbed each of them simultaneously with my hands, when they opened, I met WarCof. WarCof strangely appeared in this magnificent color of white/purple, his figure wasn’t that attractive, but built like a man. He was about my height (5’7″), but couldn’t figure his weight, it wouldn’t register in my brain. His voice made a sharp deep powerful sound, although, it felt gentle to my ears—a perfect tone.

“Look”, he said. And when I did, I saw everything perfectly still. Nothing moved, no sound was made, no air was felt, and the people and their children completely frozen in their place. I saw families in mid step, mouths unmoved although stuck open from mid conversation, a kid frozen in mid air from leaping off a bench. Police officers… well… nothing too unique there, they were already posed.

But here is where it gets interesting.

As I continued to look … two distinct colors began to emerge specific to their gender, male and female; the women have this color combination of red/orange giving off this beautiful fiery glow, their bodies are transparent as the color intensifies at their core, their heart burns an intense deep red; the color of the men glow an amazing blue/green, and a deep cold dark blue intensifies at the heart, exactly the same way the deep red does for the women. Then my eyes shift to gaze upon my wife, I nearly fall to the ground ducking; she has this froze pissed off face, it’s actually quite cute and funny.

Laura burns with a different color than the other women I see. Her heart burns with that same intense deep red, but where there is a fiery orange for the other women… Laura has a gorgeous purple similar to that of WarCof. “Why”, I say to WarCof, but then everything unfreezes. WarCof is disappeared, gone. Everything returned as though nothing happened, but something remained…

THE TASTE OF IMMORTALITY

Under Pressure | #7

In the movie “Passengers” a mechanic (Chris Pratt) and journalist (Jennifer Lawrence) are aboard a starship (and one of the best animated in my opinion) set out on routine course through space at 50% lightspeed to another planet-like Earth called Homestead II.

While in transit the starships’ shield takes on some serious pressure upon encountering what appeared to be a comet cloud.


The spacer you see above is an indicator of time intervals between segments of writing.

If you haven’t watched the movie between now (2020) and 2016, then I’m about to give you a unique perspective as you watch it for the first time. And if you have seen it, well… as you read what is typed jogs the memory and entices you to watch it again, you’ll also get a unique perspective as this post will come to mind.

5000 passengers are in their hibernation pods experiencing 120 years worth of animated dream-like state while traveling across space in an artificial intelligent and dare I say emotionally intelligent spacecraft. But upon a comet puncturing through the shield causing significant damage, of which the impossible happens, a “failsafe” hibernation pod’s ‘time chip’ fries…and wakes Jim (a mechanic) 90 years too early.


Imagine the concept. How is it any different than living aboard earth, the spacecraft you’re on right now? Onlyyyy… you share a dream with about 8 billion other passengers. And in this dream you wake up before 8 billion other people, realizing that… you’re alone. Everyone is as good as dead and there’s nothing you can do about it. Or is there?

After a year Jim is alone on this starship the pressure is weighing and desperation is calling. An idea emerges. Jim begins to investigate a hope and possibility of making the rest of his life meaningful, but at the risk of taking the meaning out of someone else’s life. So Jim kills everyone. Okay you got me, that was a joke. Just making sure you’re paying attention.


If you like what you’re reading, consider following our blog and I’ll see you in the next “Under Pressure” post where I’ll continue this life riveting concept.