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fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament: The Last Supper

claresnaturallife

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabas, Mary Madeleine, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God.

The Story

I felt ill. Sick to my stomach. Why did my brother insist that we go through this farce of a supper? He was the one who asked me to fulfill this ill-fated prophecy instead of running out of Jerusalem like I had suggested. He insisted that my betrayal would be the only way he would not be killed on the spot. What if taking the silver pieces is what brings the horrific fate that I saw? I did remember the fisherman claiming I was a betrayer. That, in itself, is what makes me think that the future I saw coming true is what is truly to come? What was the point in seeing the future when you cannot change it? 

I was quiet while the rest of the Apostles drank their fill of wine. My brother loved the trick he used at the wedding three years ago so much that he used it more than once. It was a simple transformation spell, but it saved our group so much money on wine. He was always the one who was gifted with the natural magic of this world. I was only gifted in prophesying the future. 

“Judas, what is wrong?” James asked. He had always been the youngest of the group and the younger brother of Yeshua and myself. We never told any of the others that any of us were true or even half siblings because we wanted us to be more evened out. 

“Nothing, enjoy the meal,” I said with a sad smile. I made a pact to protect both of my little brothers. John was no different. He did not even know about the horrible visions that plagued my dreams.

“How can I enjoy it when I can tell something is wrong with both of my elder brothers?” he asked in a more hushed tone. The boy was always gifted with knowing what others were feeling. 

I just gave him a smile while Yesh gathered everyone together. So, this is how you spark everything Yesh? Yeshua went in explaining a strange analogy about the wine representing his blood and the bread representing his body. As always, my brother was all for the theatrics. He glanced at me with sad eyes. “…and now, the one who dips his bread after mine will betray me.”

I felt as if I was going to empty the little food I ingested. Did he have to bring about that I would “betray” him? Was this his way of making sure the prophecy happened the way that I saw? He dipped his bread into my favorite dip to make things even worse for me. I sighed following suit. 

The room gasped and I felt Peter grab me from behind and slam me against the wall.

“How dare you?” He glared, he looked like he was about to swing his strong arm into my gut before my brother stopped him.

“He is not the only one guilty before the night is done. You will deny that you know me three times before the rooster rows. Do not make this last night that we have together filled with violence. Let him go, Peter.” The entire room shivered at how calm my brother could sound even faced with danger. I knelt down with shaking hands and held my brother’s. 

“Please Yeshy… do not make me do this…” I pleaded. I could feel tears wanting to poke its way out of my eyes. I just wanted to take him and run.

“Go,” he said softly with his eyes not meeting my own. “Please do what needs to be done.”

A few hours passed and I did what was needed to get done. The soldiers in tow, we made our way into the garden of Gethsemane. I told them that the man I would kiss on the cheek was the man they wanted. The idiots put in charge of my brother had fallen asleep. John, Peter, and even my baby brother James was resting while my brother sat there calmly with his eyes closed. I frowned and hugged him. “Please do not make me do this brother,” I whispered. When I heard him say nothing I knew I had to act. Otherwise, the soldiers would attack us all. I kissed his cheek softly. 

“Judas,” he asked calmly, fighting back tears I knew were coming. “Must… you betray me with a kiss?”

I held onto him in tears before the guards forced me off of him. While all this was happening, I could see Peter wake up and in a rage grabbed a sword from one of the guard’s ear off before trying to approach me with the blade. 

“Put the sword down Peter,” Yeshua said sternly. He raised his hand to heal the ear before they took him away. Before Peter could rage at me when he was gone, I ran after them. Now that his task was done it was time for me to find a way to save him. I would not let my little brother I had sworn to protect die like this.

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fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament: The Temple

claresnaturallife

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabus, Mary Magdeline, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God.

The Story

It was quiet now. He rarely lost his temper, but when he did it was terrifying. Despite all who follow him, my brother’s wrath could scare the strongest of wills. I walked through the rubble while the merchants scurried to gather every coin that was spilled to the sacred grounds of the temple. 

“The soldiers are suspicious as it is. Of all times to lose his temper.” The fisherman’s tasteless comment was not exactly wrong but also not appropriate. Things have been so tense lately. It did not help that my dreams were getting more and more vivid. Dreams that I only told my dear little brother about. 

“You do realize you have the worst temper of all of us, Peter,” I told the man with a bit of annoyance. He never liked me. He never liked how close I was to Yeshua. Even if I was his elder brother by marriage. He wanted to be the one who was second in command. He didn’t care how much a burden the title even meant. The things I know. 

On the outside, we allow the followers and apostles to believe that Yeshua is the one who has visions of the future. In truth, I am the one who suffers these endless visions. I cannot stand to see soldiers beating my brother and putting him to death. He and I are the only two who know what is going to happen by the end of this horrible week. He still insists on going through with it no matter how many times I beg him to have us leave Jerusalem. To avoid this ill fate. 

“You are the one who talks any sense to him. Go talk to your brother,” he walked up to a rich man who had just finished gathering his silver and kicked him back down. He would never show how horrible he still was in front of my brother. 

I frowned, deciding it was better off leaving him alone. I walked into the quiet temple to join my brother. He tended to pray in a place that was more secluded from the rest. It was a good place for us to speak quietly with each other. A place of peace. It was looked down upon by most of the Hebrews, but Yeshua and I had our own beliefs. As long as we kept to ourselves and spoke quietly and honestly there was no harm done. 

As I approached him, I could see him shaking softly. I knew this all too well. “Yeshua,” I said softly kneeling close to him. “It is not too late to leave.”

“No,” he sniffed. “Our people need a hero. Someone who will stand up to them but bring no violence towards them. Someone who will show that peace can be gained without violence.”

“We are showing it. You do not have to die for it to happen. I promised when you were born that I would always protect you. Please, what about Mary and your children? What about mother?”

“You know mother understands everything will happen for a reason. Your visions have always been proof of that.” He gave me a gentle smile and leaned next to me. It was always something he did when it was just us. I smiled as I held my brother close. I knew the idea of his suffering and death scared him. He was so stubborn that he refused to really admit it out loud. We stayed silent until the others came in ready to pray. We straightened up and joined in, even though the eyes of the rabbis were peering onto us… 

Something had to be done. My dreams showed the soldiers taking my brother from his teachings to our people and beating him. It was such a harsh way to be taken in. If he insisted on this prophecy to come to fruition… should I do something so his arrest would not be so harsh?

“Judas? Are you alright brother?” Yeshua asked. He could always tell when I was upset just like I could tell when he was. 

“Nothing, we can speak about it later.” I feigned a smile as we went back to our worship.

fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament: Nightmare Before Jerusalem

claresnaturallife

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabas, Mary Magdalene, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God as told in the Quran.

The Story

It was painful. Nothing, not even these visions could prepare me for this. I saw nothing but my beloved baby brother getting beaten and bruised and for what? Asking for peace? It was not our fault that our original journey had caused people to rebel against the Romans. That is not what we wanted. All we wanted was for everyone to get along. To not overtake the other. Simple guidelines to follow. 

“Betrayer!” I heard Peter’s voice from behind me. Betrayer? What did he mean by that? The angry fisherman stood there as I turned to him. He had a noose in his hand along with my wife being held by another Apostle. Anger began to build in my gut.

“Let her go Peter.” I said angrily.

“No,” the drunk spat. “You will pay for what you did to Yeshua.”

“I only did what he asked me to do!” I yelled. Peter glared and had the others take me away…

“Judas!” my little brother’s voice woke me from the horrible nightmare. These prophecies have become more and more vivid lately. That only meant that the time was drawing near. “Jude, you were yelling in your sleep again. Do you wish to wake the others? I am sure Peter would not like to be disturbed from his night of overdrinking wine.”

“Sorry Yeshy,” I said softly holding my head. “They…they are getting worse. This time I was called a betrayer for some reason.” Yeshua frowned and hugged me. He seemed to be hiding something. I always knew when he was. “Brother, I know when something is wrong. Tell me. Do you know why I would be called a betrayer in a future where I am forced to see you tortured?” I asked the question in a hushed tone of voice. These things are better left unheard.

“Judas, what if you are the only way for this future to happen?” he asked. “What if the Romans or even the High Priests were to ask a betrayal of you?”

“I would refuse. Yeshy, you are my little brother and I have sworn to protect you since the day you were born.”

“Yes, I know that,” he frowned. “But think about it this way, what if this is the only way to bring peace?”

“What if this brings war instead? Yesh, you know Peter. I know that if you were not here he would lead a war against the Romans instead of trying to bring peace. He would most likely try to force our beliefs on others just as the Romans had done to us. He is not great at keeping his mouth quiet and letting people go.”

“Judas, I know you worry about Peter but he is also very strong. I believe he can and has changed. I may have to do this to bring our people together.”

I frowned and hugged my brother tightly. He had a point, but we had been able to stop some of my prophecies before. Why could we not stop this one? I would have replied if not for the rest of the Apostles stirring awake. Today was the day we were going to travel into Jerusalem for Passover. 

We ate a small, humble breakfast as we always did and made our way. At first, we walked, as we always did, down the path into the thriving city. However just as it came into view, Peter came over to us dragging along a colt. “Yeshua, why do you not ride this into the city? After all you have done, surely you would enjoy riding into Jerusalem rather than walk.”

I frowned, annoyed. I knew this would only cause the soldiers and priests to get angry. Bring more unwanted attention our way. “Brother, you know this will bring unwanted attention…”

“Let him make his own decisions, Judas,” the fisherman practically growled at me when I attempted to speak to Yeshua. He was always trying to test my patience.

“It is alright, Judas. Peter is just trying to be kind. He must have gone through some length to find the animal after all.”

I nodded backing off. It was true that the idiot must have pulled some strings or traded some items for such a young colt. I stood by my brother’s side and held the reins of the young animal as we rode in. The giant crowd of people greeting us made me feel very uneasy, but my brother was relaxed and seemed to be enjoying the attention. They laid palms and clothes in our path and greeted my brother as if he were some kind of royalty. While I was happy to see my brother enjoying himself, fear had kept me from enjoying the affair… Especially with the high priests who were patrolling outside of the crowd. Something told me that this horrible prophecy was going to happen very soon.

fiction, lore, writing

Nionia: Creating a New World

claresnaturallife

Many, many years ago, long before the dinosaurs on “Earth,” there was a god named Shiconen who founded our Universe. He was a peaceful deity, at first anyway. He was from another plane of existence where all the gods and goddesses across many pantheons lived and ruled over their respective civilizations together. He was the weakest of all the creators. This fact is why he decided to take this Universe for his own. 

Akuney

Among the nine (yes nine) planets, he chose the largest of them all to place the first civilization. Within the gassy outer layers, he formed a solid planet. It was lush with trees, water, and wildlife. It was peaceful save for the carnivorous animals who preyed on the weaker kinds. He wasn’t satisfied with this. He wanted more intelligent creatures that he could rule over.  He named it Nionia.

This is how the Akuney came into being. They were animals, yet they were able to communicate with each other through telepathic means. They created the language of Nionian which was a language of truths. No creature who spoke this language could tell a lie. It was not in the language to be deceitful or crude. Creatures such as dragons, unicorns, phoenixes, and many others were able to live in their respectful herds or other groups. They watched over the “normal” creatures and held responsibility over them. 

Calney

Shiconen was still not satisfied. The ability to create worlds made him crave control. He saw others create civilizations of humanoid beings in other universes and he wanted to be part of that. He wanted to do this in a special way. A way to make Nionia very different from other worlds.

He chose his favorite creation, the unicorns, and gave them the power to create a pure race which he named the elves. Nionian was forced into their being. They formed a small Kingdom within the vast and magical forest which was named Lyonoko after the first Elven King.Their homes were crafted out of the earth and trees. They only consumed what was natural which was plants and water. If they were to eat or drink from an animal in any form they would become extremely sickened. The Elves would become what is later called part of the Calney, or humanoid beings with the ability to use magic and change shape at will.

Humans

Next, Shiconen chose dragons. They, too, were given a task to create a race. The race of man. They bore no magic and were forced to serve the Elves. Even though men resented their servitude to the Elves, they were loyal and never thought to rebel. They formed another language that would allow them to lie and curse as much as they wanted and it was known as the “common” language. A language that even the civilizations on Earth would eventually adopt as an unofficial universal language. 

The Twins

Only two were the exception to this rule. Malieko and his twin sister, Terianako, were given a special task from Shiconen. He placed the two in a secluded cave high above the small village of men. A dragon was given to each which represented their lifespan and magic. These were the first and only sorcerers of Nionia. They were to never leave the cave and only assist when they were needed.

Shiconen gave Nionians strict rules. No mixing blood with other races, the Elves were to rule over all, and absolutely no murder was to be permitted. As with every civilization simple rules such as these were bound to be broken. Only time would tell.

anxiety, chronic pain, Mental Health, not giving up, perseverance, update

More Changes

claresnaturallife

Having issues with anxiety and learning disorders can be hard. For me, I take a while to settle on majors because I do not know which kinds of classes I can handle. I thought a lot about my major and how hard it is for me to take in these details just for the biology class. I love it, but my brain cannot handle reading and processing the information. I realized that for me, I’d want more of a hands-on approach.

Because of these reasons, I have gone back to English as a major. I still want to pursue some knowledge of medicine and first aid since it intrigues me, and it is a wonderful thing to have. However, if I wanted to, I will go for a Medical Assistant Associate degree after I graduate if I still want to pursue it. However, if I fall in love with something else and find another career with my degree, I will go for either a first responder course or a wilderness first responder course. Either way, I think it’s a good thing to know in any situation.

Posts

So, for the last three weeks, I had been posting twice a week. Once with old discussion posts and then excerpts from the book I am writing. I will try to keep up with that, but It was initially because I was getting very anxious about my classes and work. That is why they were scheduled posts. Again, my blogs will comprise multiple things since I am so passionate about various subjects. I will try to make weekly updates about the story I am working on, but lately, I could not work on it.

I also have some “prepper” projects I am working on and my views on certain parts of that aspect and community. I will never write negativity because I love to spread positivity. I am also working on finally moving out with my partner, so I will post about that. Thank you again for liking and following my blog to all who have.

fiction, writing

Soothsaying

claresnaturallife

She held out her hand and touched my cheek just as Melek would have done. A mother’s touch. “Young Jafar,” She whistled a soft tune and the legless reptiles retreated into small, black baskets which decorated the front of her house.

“You… are a snake charmer?” I asked softly.

“Yes, that is one of my many talents. I foresee great things from you, child. Though I also see a terrifying fate that you may already know of.”

Those words caused me to look up at her in amazement. She knew of the content of the dreams? Was she connected to me in some way? She put a soft hand under my chin and touched her soft lips directly in the middle of my forehead.

I suddenly found myself in a dark place. Treasure littered the ground and I saw an older version of myself on the ground glaring up at a handsome boy who seemed to be a few years my senior. Upon closer observation… it was the man whom was holding me as I laid dying. The man with the silver eyes.

“As you can see child, I have the ability to not only see the future but help young mages such as yourself to see and control visions you have only in your sleeping state.” Alia’s voice rang softly around the air. I walked towards my future self to listen to the conversation.

“You must be joking, I have tried to kill you. You wish me to follow you on your adventures across the seas? For what purpose? You have caught me and you should have gotten rid of me as I would have done to you!”

The handsome boy walked up with a kind smile on his lips. He put an outstretched hand towards my future self. “I do not wish to harm you Jafar. You have lived a hard life, and though you may look like a woman, I believe you can become a great man one day. Do you truly wish to live the life of an assassin for the rest of your days?”

“This decision will be one you must choose carefully. The fate you have prophesized will only take place if you choose one or the other. I imagine you will have about ten years to make the choice you wish.

Philosophy, spirituality, writing

“Evil is in the Eye of the Beholder”

claresnaturallife

The topic of “evil” is interesting to me. I love to write fiction, and my favorite thing to write for is the villain. Though through the years of attempting to develop the story, I love the most, I’ve realized “evil” is just a point of view. When one person thinks that murder (for example) is a sin, another may need to kill to survive an abuser. If all murder is wrong and evil, then why would the abused be forced to endure such abuse until they die themselves?

I was raised Catholic and was forced to go to Catholic school. I almost failed the “morality” class in high-school because I did not agree with almost everything I had learned. I knew in my heart being homosexual was not a sin, and neither was having sex before marriage. To me, it is all a natural thing and should not be condemned as “evil.” I did not know for sure at the time, but I ended up Pansexual, which means that I have no preference in gender or sex of a person… My current partner (and soulmate) is someone I fell for before I knew she was a female. I fell for her personality. How can something so natural be considered a sinful life?

To me, “evil” is doing something that hurts other or yourself knowing fully well what you are doing and doing it on purpose. If it is something used in defending yourself or another person or people it should NOT be considered evil. Instead it should be seen as it is. Defense.

As for “God,” my view is not the same as many. I believe that no religion is right or wrong. I believe all the gods exist in one or many various realms. I believe the Christian/Catholic/Jewish/etc God exists genderless in their own realm to watch over their followers. My personal pantheon involves Greek, Norse, Hindu, Egyptian, Lakota, and Japanese deities, (mostly Greek). I believe all the Greek (except maybe Hades) lives on Olympus. Hera is my matron while Poseidon is my patron gods. Ares shares me with my partner because he is my god-spouse (which means my astral body and soul is married to him on the celestial plane). I even have a few spirit guides such as Maui, Archangel Gabriel, and the animal spirits of sea dragon, cheetah, hawk, and crow. My belief is different because my feeling towards most of my pantheon is that they are like family to me rather than beings to be worshipped. Osirus and Hades in particular assist me in my journey of my various past lives.

While I believe all of this, I do not disbelieve in other people’s beliefs. My girlfriend’s roommate believes all the Gods exist as one being. I do not hate those who believe in other things, I simply believe something different than them. Coming back to the subject of evil however, I do believe that those who thrust their beliefs on others, act as if theirs is the only religion that matters, and those who kill for their faith is wrong and can be considered evil if they are doing things to hurt people either physically or mentally. I don’t think that evil is a matter of if God really exists, or if they allow it. The Universe, Spirit Guides, and Deities guide us and give us the free will to follow or not follow their teachings. I do not think it is fair to blame evil on the existence or non-existence of “God.” However, as I said before, evil can also be seen as simply a point of view.

As the quote goes, “Evil is in the Eye of the Beholder.”

fiction, writing

Dreams of the Destruction

claresnaturallife

I was being held down while that horrid serpent slithered freely. Ropes bound my feet and arms behind me. I was bruised all over and there were so many rogues surrounding me and laughing. What looked like a red and black beaten up turban was thrown from my head as my long brown hair fell in front of my face.

“How could you?” I pleaded. There was a man standing in front of me with black hair and seemed to be the leader of this den of thieves. He let out a chilling laugh. One that went right through to my bones. The men holding me kicked me a few times in the ribs as a punishment for my spoken words no doubt. The leader’s laugh subsided and he turned to me. I could not believe what I was seeing. This man had the same black hair, dark skin, and dark eyes… Kassim. What was going on? “You…you loved me once…”

“You should learn to stop being so naïve Jafar.” He said as he squatted down in front of me with a serious face. He had scars on his face and his clothes were ragged. “Do you really think I would allow the Royal Vasir of the King of the Seven Seas to leave the den of the 40 thieves on his own? Your heart has changed as has mine. This world is dark and lonely. We can only do things for ourselves. You hated your life as the Royal Vasir’s son and now you are the Vasir to the most famous King in all of Arabia. What a filthy hypocrite.”

“D…do what every you want with me Kassim… I do not know what happened to you but my wife and daughter do not deserve this. They are innocent and…”

“Innocent?” Kassim seethed. “We were innocent children once. Foolish lovers who thought we could live a life together. Then the real world fell upon us. Have you even told your loving wife and daughter the truth? I could imagine their devastation after finding out what had truly happened to your father, the Sultan, and the Prince that you served as a Vizier in training. Even the events surrounding your finding your precious King is shrouded in blood.”

“Silence! They do not need to know my past. I have put my past behind me.”

“Clearly.” My old friend said with a sinister smile. “Put it behind you so far you never even thought to make sure that I had gotten to a good place once I escaped. Had you ever even tried to find me?”

I felt myself going silent as the cobra hissed angrily at me before Kassim’s younger and more frantic voice awoke me from this trauma.

fiction, writing

Beginning of Fate

claresnaturallife

It was a few days after I had awoken from my comatose state. I was walking the halls of the Palace trying to refamiliarize myself with the ins and outs when I saw him. He was only about the age of ten at the time.

“Stop being so careless slave!” the brat of a Prince was forcing his personal guard to whip the young man to oblivion. The flogging was so hard and forceful that bits of flesh and blood littered the ground as if it were a scene of someone being killed. It turned my stomach to see someone being treated with such violence.

“W…wait! Leave him alone!” I exclaimed. It was the first words I had actually spoken since I had come back to the “life” as my father described it. Even from that young of an age, I felt as if any injustice should be dealt with. No one should live a life in fear or anguish.

“Jafar? You speak to me like this? I am your prince and you are meant to serve me as Vizier one day,” the pompous prince glared. “Shall I teach you a lesson as well?”

“I…um…” Since I was still so young and naïve I had not a clue what to say to Prince Haroun of Anfanka?

“What is going on here?” My father’s voice rang from behind me. “Jafar, what have you done to disturb the Prince?”

“F…father… why…. Is he hitting this boy?” I asked timidly. I feared my father just as much as I feared the Prince and the Sultan. I was a coward. A stain on the ideals of a future Vizier.

“Son, this boy has no rights. He is but a lowly slave boy of our Palace.”

“Then… why…why can he not… be my slave? I do not like how he is being treated,” I begged. I doubted that I would be able to get my way but something changed in my father’s eyes.“That is the best idea that has come out of your mouth in your entire life. Very well, I will ask permission from the Sultan and allow this boy to be yours. This will teach you what it is like to own slaves.”

Philosophy, writing

Reincarnated Souls vs Zombies

claresnaturallife

I’m not much of a fan of zombies, yet I love Resident Evil (I can only watch. I’m too much of a wimp to actually play). On a serious note though, since I think of the soul and the body as two separate entities, I think that an answer to the question is no. I believe that the human brain and body are really just vessels to hold the soul in the same way that all creatures are vessels for the soul.

My take on reincarnation, is that the soul is the part that is the real “you.” The many lives you live with the soul is what makes the being and the history of your true self. In every life, you are given a clean slate. A chance to make up for the good or bad karma from previous lives even if you do not remember it.

For me, all my life I felt empty as if something was missing. I never really felt like “myself” and instead compared myself to others, fictional or otherwise. The Catholic faith was not enough for me. It was hard to believe that when you die you just go to Heaven or Hell. It never made sense to me that this was my only chance at life. When I finally got out of Catholic School and searched around for an awnser I went through various beliefs. At first, I went strictly of the Wiccan faith and was mislead and manipulated by others. In the end, I finally broke away from them and realized they were simply blocking me from my full potential.

The first memory I had was a dream. I was angry at a King who had killed my lover. I still remember the robes he wore. Red with black embellishments. After this is when I realized I was the daughter of that King. Since then I have learned so many different lives my soul had lived. When that happened, that hole in my heart (or soul) felt as if it was filled. Even though those I called “friends” wanted me to move on from them, I felt a different way. As though these lives were part of my true self. I was not supposed to let them go. I was supposed to take hold of them, accept them as part of my personal path in the universe. This difference in opinion lead to my losing many friends, but then I found new ones. These new friends accepted me for who I was past, present, and future. I even found the soul of the person I have loved as far back as my memories took me. My “soul-mate” if you will. We talk about our memories as if they were simply part of our live. We banter about the old times, good and bad.

Because of these experiences, my personal belief is that the soul that lives through many lives is vastly different than the physical human body. I believe the soul takes hold of the entire being when a new life is born and that is why the Chakras develop. The energy one lets out through the chakras and soul is what makes a person a person.

With the idea of zombies, I think that it is simply the physical body. Whatever reanimates the body to become a “zombie” I think is very separate from the soul itself. The brain controls the physical body and without a soul, the body is just a body. Not a person. The self-awareness I feel comes from the soul.

fiction, writing

The First Dream

claresnaturallife

“Hissss, Hissss,” the serpent spoke as it surrounded the bloody scene. Lifeless corpses littered the once pure white marble halls of this grand palace. Crimson painted the golden walls while fire and ash scattered the night’s sky blocking out every star that shone down upon the kingdom. The Cobra, regal as its namesake, slithered towards the center of the carnage which brought my attention to the equally royal human as he knelt before me.

            He was broken. Tears welled up in his perfectly grey eyes as he held my body close to him. The soft jingle of the gold decorating his ears and neck were enough to cause me pains in my chest stronger than that of my wounds. He had won his kingdom. Started out with nothing and I helped groom him to be the greatest King of the Seven Seas. Most of the jewels he wore were given to him as a gift. His long golden-brown hair fell from his perfect tie sopping up the thick liquid coming from my wounds.

Looking back on this pathetic life, there was so many things that I could have done differently. Especially when it came to those I loved. There was so much regret. It hurt me to hear him plead for my life. After all we had been through I had never lost the love I felt for him.

“Do not die on me. I forgive you so please do not leave me again.” His voice was just a whisper that went through my heart like a sharp needle. His tears were wasted. Why should he weep for me? All I had done was bring pain and trouble to him from the moment we met.

            “No, I cannot. After everything I have done I do not deserve it.” I murmured weakly.

            I felt the blood draining from my broken body. So… tired. His wet tears fell like an unsteady river as he cradled me.

“I will never marry.” He placed a warm hand on my cheek and kissed me tenderly as if to a sleeping newborn. “Never,” he repeated.

The serpent once more came into view as it coiled around my arm with his deadly fangs dangerously close to my jugular. It spoke to me in the softest voice that was almost inaudible. “Jafaaar…” she hissed. The next words I did not hear as the past slowly bled into the present.

fiction, Mental Health, not giving up, perseverance, stories, update, writing

Writing Fiction Again

claresnaturallife

Holidays are depressing when you don’t feel as if they love as much you as you want to be. I’ve been in a rut these past weeks which is why I could not write much anymore. However, now I’ve decided that I need to write again. Make money instead of being stuck in my room depressed because of lack of work. I love my job, but the lack of continuous hours hurts. I need to get out of here. This is why I’ve decided to focus on writing and fiction again.

Side Jobs

I will start my search for side jobs that will help me move. My partner and I are looking at apartments so we can move to get me out of this toxic environment. I will do my best to update my blog more often once again.

Fiction

Since I enjoy writing fiction the most, I have decided that I will start by using the self-publishing platform on Amazon to publish novellas. This will allow me to keep the rights of the work so that once I am doing the series of novellas, I can put them in a larger book. I will base the novellas off the 1001 Arabian Nights.

Royal Vizier Diaries

They will be a series of stories through the eyes of Jafar. He begins his journey as the unhappy son to the Royal Vizier to a Sultan in Ancient Morocco. He is only thirteen when he explores his sexuality and romance with his personal servant Kassim which only ends in tragedy.

This is just the beginning of the boy’s long journey into finding out who he really is and the mysterious power that he has been given. It is meant to be an adult fantasy fiction work with homosexual relationships along with heterosexual. There is a lot of death and sex involved along with hard themes that will include trigger warnings at the beginning of those chapters.

Stories

This is one story in my mind which is close to my heart which is why I want to get it out in the open. Even with the tough themes, I will attempt to make sure that those specific chapters can be skipped if needed without losing story elements. I will add parts of the novellas as blog posts once a week for now on, and once I publish the first novella, I will advertise it here as much as I can.

I will also possibly work on some short stories I might try to get published in small magazines and such. I have already sent my first story off to Chicken Soup for the Soul so I hope that this can start my publications. I hope that you all keep following me and my journey. Thank you for all the support.

fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament

claresnaturallife

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabus, Mary Magdalene, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God as told in the Quran. 

The Story

“Judas, please reconsider. If we get caught I will be losing three sons, a daughter, and myself,” my mother pleaded.

“I have to mother, Yeshua and I look similar and even more so after Peter had me beaten. I explained. “You three need to get him out of here. He is the one they follow after all. They need something to rely on in dark times. Hope. I can give them that.”

“Judas, are you sure about this?” James asked. 

“They already took my wife. When she died I felt a great anger flow through my veins. That has temporarily gone away but I fear the return and what I would do with that information. I already feel dirty for being the one to betray him.”

We finally arrived at the cell my brother was being held at. There were guards everywhere, but there was one spot that was vacant. It seemed as if the soldiers standing there had fallen asleep for some reason. The four of us looked at each other as we walked through the doors. My brother was sitting on the ground holding his legs.

“You came,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I knew you would.”

“Yesh,” I ran to him instinctively and hugged him. Tears would not stop flowing. He held me back as tight as he could.

“How… How did you know about Peter? And about…”

“It seems Yahweh has favor with you, Judas,” he said softly. 

“Yahweh? Why would he? You are his chosen prophet.”

“He spoke to me while I prayed once before we came to Jerusalem. He told me that the visions you have must come true. That Peter would kill your wife, afterward deny me, and that you will come for me after everything is done,” he frowned with tears in his eyes. “I believe you know what else he told me.”

“I have to,” I said softly, hugging him as tightly as I could. “I promised when you were born that I would always protect you. This means that I must take your place. There is no spell that can truly bring the dead back to life. At least, none that I am able to do. You are the only one with that power Yesh. We have to give our people hope and something to believe in. You have to come back and claim to be resurrected. They can claim all they want that I killed myself with that blood money. I do not care as long as you are safe.”

“Judas… Yeshua…” James said softly with tears. He and our mother were keeping watch, while my sister-in-law held her husband up kissing his cheek. 

“Yeshua, we need to go. You know the sleeping spell will not last,” she said softly.

“Go, I will die instead. I am ready,” I kissed my brother one last time on the forehead as we replaced the chains on him onto my own wrists.

“I love you Judas. May we cross paths again one day,” Yeshua said. I did not know what he meant by this but it made me feel warm inside. I was truly ready and I have done my task to protect him no matter what the cost. 

“I love you too Yeshy. I always will.”

 Before they left, our mother kissed me and embraced me. She may not have been blood but later, when I was left dying on the cross in front of everyone on that hill, she would weep for me next to James as if she were my blood. Visions came to me one last time while I hung on the wooden cross. A life very different from this one. No, many different lives. Was there more to the soul than one life? It had always been a possibility. Instead of pain, these visions gave me hope. I would live again and one day make up for any bad thing that I had done in this life or another. Perhaps this was the turning point. A way to save me as well as so many others who could fall to darkness so easily. Perhaps this life could save more. I hung my head and closed my eyes as I felt an inner peace at knowing my brother could live on.

So concludes the tale of the brother of Yeshua who gave his life to protect the ones he loved.

fiction, stories, writing

A Brother’s Lament: The Hanging

claresnaturallife

Disclaimer

This story along with the others in this small series of stories is purely fiction. It is not meant to go against anyone’s belief in the Gospel. This is my own personal belief in the form of fiction and the “supernatural” parts are more -so true to life than they are in the Bible. It is another telling of what happened in the view of the so-called “villain.” My personal belief is inspired by the lost gospels of Judas, Barnabas, Mary Madeleine, and the belief that Jesus was a prophet and not the son of the Hebrew/Christian God.

The Story

I hated this. Why could it not be me that had to suffer? Or was it me who suffered the most? I went to the high priests and yelled at them to try and reconsider hurting him. All they did was laugh in my face. As if Peter or anyone else would understand. I would not be surprised if James had been dragged into his little fold. I sat on the edge and cried hearing them beat him and make him sound like a criminal. All we wanted was peace. Peace among our people and theirs. What if I…

“Betrayer!” I heard Peter’s voice from behind me. This scene felt all too familiar. It… was that nightmare I had. The one before we came into Jerusalem. The angry fisherman stood there as I turned to him. He had a noose in his hand along with my wife, Prima, being held by another Apostle. I had begged her not to come with us after that nightmare but, as she always did, she refused. Anger began to build in my gut.

“Let her go, Peter,” I said angrily.

“No,” the drunk spat. “You will pay for what you did to Yeshua.”

“I only did what he asked me to do!” I yelled. “What about you? Have you forsaken his name yet? You should be the one called betrayer.”

He glared at me and ordered the others to grab me. They beat me in tune with the beating my precious brother was getting from the guards. I saw James look from Peter to me not knowing what to do. “James, run. Run to mother,” I ordered weakly. Thankfully, I saw him run as I asked him to do. I could not let him see both of his elder brothers beaten like this. 

“Judas!” I heard Prima yell. “Please! Stop this! Let him go!”

“Let him go?” Peter seethed. “Why should I let someone who betrayed Yeshua go? He is the one who brought the guards. He is the one who kissed him as a mark of death.”

“He did what he had to. Please, just…” 

“Quiet Prima,” I said hoarsely after spitting out some blood. “Peter, do what you want with me, but let her go,”

“I do not think so. You will not get a swift death. I will make you suffer. Starting with her,” The other apostles grabbed me and tore my clothes off of my body. I was beginning to mimic what they had forced Yeshua into. Only rags to cover my bloodied and beaten body. Since the two of us had always looked similar one could not tell us part. 

They took us to a sturdy tree and threw the satchel of silver that I had obtained onto the ground. They forced me to kneel while looking up.

“First, I will make everyone believe that you were the coward everyone says you are. At the same time, I will make you watch.” 

If I had thought Peter was insane and evil before, I was wrong. He had no soul for a man who was trying to win over my brother. He forced a rag in my mouth stopping me from any kind of speech. It was still night time but I could see by the stars and the full moon what they were doing. They dressed my beloved wife in my clothes and strung her by the neck as if she were a doll that belonged to one of our daughters. When it was set they dropped her from a higher branch and her neck snapped like a fragile twig. I tried and tried to yell but nothing but muffle came from my voice. All I could do was cry. I was losing everyone I loved in one night. I felt a dark part of me awaken. Something sinister telling me I needed to get revenge. That I was strong enough to break from this hold and make them all pay.  

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves!” A stern feminine voice came from the side breaking me out of this fit of rage. I turned to see my stepmother Mary, my sister-in-law Mary Magdalen, and James looking horrified at the now corpse of my beloved wife, Prima. The voice came from my mother. She walked up and slapped Peter.

“Do you believe that my son would want you to do this? Do you even believe in him?” She asked. My brothers’ mother could be scary when she wanted to be. Imagine how it was raising us. 

Peter shook in my mother’s grasp. “N…no… I do not know him. I was simply teaching his follower a lesson.”

James and my heads looked up at this. You will deny that you know me three times before the rooster rows. Perhaps I was not the only one who had prophetic powers.

“Peter,” my sister-in-law said angrily. “After all that my husband had done for you, you would deny him?”

“I… do not know what you are talking about, woman.”

Two. I looked over the horizon where the light was beginning to peek. Soon a rooster would crow. This time, James went up to him. He was there when our brother said Peter would deny him. Neither of us believed it would be like this. 

“Peter, you do not know Yeshua like we do. Do you truly believe Judas would do what he did if Yeshua did not know as well? How can you even call yourself an Apostle? Do you know Judas and my brother at all?” He was angry like I was. He knew that if I could not get to him, he would.

“N…no, I do not know him.” He said this defeat and the rest of the apostles stood astonished. Both Marys came to my aid as I fell into their arms. A rooster called in the city below. All who were there at the supper stared at Peter. He cried as the two women and James led me down the hill. I was shaking with tears. So much loss. My wife, my brother… My brother. I stopped the women before they took me to where they were staying. 

“Wait, there is something I must do.”