Post by James Gilmore on Apr 12, 2018 22:40:24 GMT
We find James Gilmore sitting on a patch of grassland overlooking a lake. Oh, the day was perfect to be outdoors--sunny skies, temperatures in the low-80s, and a gentle breeze blowing in from the south-southwest. In fact, everything about this particular locale was perfect and tranquil--no war, no tears, no nothing.
This was the Islander alum’s visual interpretation of Heaven.
He outstretched his arms and touched the side of his face, chuckling over the fact that his entire beard was gone, replaced by a more clean-cut image. Without warning, three spirits--”angels” in the strictest sense--appeared before him, sporting white robes and friendly, welcoming auras of love and friendship. They were the spiritual representations of several people from Gilmore’s past: wrestling mentor Jack Gaither, his paternal grandfather and ex-Korean War veteran Thomas, and his mother Linda.
“Jack...Mom...Pappy?,” James softly spoke as the three angels approached, with “Jack” speaking first in his “cowboy” dialect. “Many folks have walked on these grasslands, looking for peace in times of chaos.”
James shuddered for a moment, taking a step back as “Thomas,” who wore a traditional Navy sailor’s cap on his head, spoke in a distinctive Bostonian accent that commanded attention, like a captain on the bridge of his ship. “Peace--a mental state in which all negative or violent emotional tendencies are fully suppressed,” he intoned succinctly with a stoic expression on his face.
Finally, “Linda” gave James a brief hug before soothing him with her soft-spoken demeanor. “You have toiled away for months while trying to rediscover the love you had for your chosen craft,” she said, watching as her counterpart “Thomas” pull out a shiny gold medal. “Now...please accept this token of enlightenment on our behalf,” he said before giving him the coveted gift--a medal engraved with the image of a rising sun with the words “Pax, amor, fortitudo,” Latin for “peace, love, strength.”
James was smiling. He had never won much of anything throughout his life, and to see the people he loved and cherished from his past giving him a well-deserved reward for finally managing to rediscover his inner self was a bittersweet moment unto itself, a dream come true as it were. Just as Gillmore was about to take possession of the medal, all three angels perked up their brows and took it back. “Hold your horses pilgrim...ya gotta give us your thoughts first,” Jack's spirit announced, prompting Thomas to place both hands on the pressure points on James' temple--as if he was trying to make him confess a sin.
“Our thoughts are linked, James--one and together,” he added.
James' face suddenly became crestfallen, as if he was about to be the recipient of some unpleasant news. Thomas let go of him and took two steps back before turning towards the shimmering pond. The other two spectres shook their heads as Linda made a solemn announcement. “We find that you, James Jefferson Gilmore, have not yet achieved spiritual enlightenment,” she said, which led Thomas to heave the medal into the drink. He would later add, “There is a demonic presence still lurking in your soul that is hindering your journey. It is calling to you from the depths of Hell and needs to be released.”
“Yet you ain’t gonna have enough strength to do so on these hallowed grounds. You must find your inner peace elsewhere,” Jack's ghost said before all three spirits faded off into nothingness, leaving James Gilmore sullen and bitter, nerved by the fact that he still had something in his soul even after all this time...
...something had to give.
"WHAT!?!," James screamed as he found himself being bathed in pure white light, and then...
-----------
April 12, 2018 - 1:00 PM
Stardate: 95880.27
...he found himself snapped out of his slumber by the sounds of his alarm, the theme to The Price is Right.
James opened his eyes and stood up from the couch he had been dozing off on for the past two hours. He was back in the physical world, back on the lonely confines of Fiona's Texas Hill Country ranch amidst a mostly cloudy and windy afternoon. He shook his head slightly as he trudged towards the bathroom, where he stared at his haggard appearance in the mirror. “What the eff was that?!,” he muttered to himself as he combed his beard and hair, trying to make himself look a little more "neater" in the eyes of the general public.
The vision he saw, Heaven and the angels, was just that...a vision. Yet as he stepped out the back door and walked on the grass towards the shallow pond--towards the very same spot where he had his experience--it soon began to dawn on him that, perhaps, he should listen to the good-natured, helpful voices that comprised his "good" conscience and served as guides. The words that Jack, Linda, and Thomas had all told him was spot on: Gilmore still had his personal demons, and they weren't going to be released by staying on Fiona's ranch in solitude.
He didn't belong in the Palace of Lost Souls much less Fiona's future retirement site--they were not HIS home.
James had no choice: he had to return to the scene of his accident--his Corpus Christi villa--and confront the very monstrosities which had possessed him since that fateful October afternoon and, perhaps, even before that time.
He had to return to the one place where his FUCKING life made any sort of sense!
Running back into the farmhouse to escape the howling winds, James pulled his iPhone from his pocket and dialed a number. He waited for a few moments before getting an answer on the other end of the line. “Yo Mikhail, it’s JJ! How ya doin’ big guy!?!,” he hyped to his former bodyguard. We barely hear Mikhail's ecstatic tone of voice as he became quite overjoyed that his employer finally called him after being away five months.
James listened intently as Mikhail told him everything that had taken place since the former's departure. When he got a moment to speak, Gilmore did so with a fatherly inflection in his voice. “Listen buddy...I need ya to do me a biiiiig favor and get the villa ready. Okie-dokie?”
James took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew what he was going to say next.
“It’s time...I’m comin’ home.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
This was the Islander alum’s visual interpretation of Heaven.
He outstretched his arms and touched the side of his face, chuckling over the fact that his entire beard was gone, replaced by a more clean-cut image. Without warning, three spirits--”angels” in the strictest sense--appeared before him, sporting white robes and friendly, welcoming auras of love and friendship. They were the spiritual representations of several people from Gilmore’s past: wrestling mentor Jack Gaither, his paternal grandfather and ex-Korean War veteran Thomas, and his mother Linda.
“Jack...Mom...Pappy?,” James softly spoke as the three angels approached, with “Jack” speaking first in his “cowboy” dialect. “Many folks have walked on these grasslands, looking for peace in times of chaos.”
James shuddered for a moment, taking a step back as “Thomas,” who wore a traditional Navy sailor’s cap on his head, spoke in a distinctive Bostonian accent that commanded attention, like a captain on the bridge of his ship. “Peace--a mental state in which all negative or violent emotional tendencies are fully suppressed,” he intoned succinctly with a stoic expression on his face.
Finally, “Linda” gave James a brief hug before soothing him with her soft-spoken demeanor. “You have toiled away for months while trying to rediscover the love you had for your chosen craft,” she said, watching as her counterpart “Thomas” pull out a shiny gold medal. “Now...please accept this token of enlightenment on our behalf,” he said before giving him the coveted gift--a medal engraved with the image of a rising sun with the words “Pax, amor, fortitudo,” Latin for “peace, love, strength.”
James was smiling. He had never won much of anything throughout his life, and to see the people he loved and cherished from his past giving him a well-deserved reward for finally managing to rediscover his inner self was a bittersweet moment unto itself, a dream come true as it were. Just as Gillmore was about to take possession of the medal, all three angels perked up their brows and took it back. “Hold your horses pilgrim...ya gotta give us your thoughts first,” Jack's spirit announced, prompting Thomas to place both hands on the pressure points on James' temple--as if he was trying to make him confess a sin.
“Our thoughts are linked, James--one and together,” he added.
James' face suddenly became crestfallen, as if he was about to be the recipient of some unpleasant news. Thomas let go of him and took two steps back before turning towards the shimmering pond. The other two spectres shook their heads as Linda made a solemn announcement. “We find that you, James Jefferson Gilmore, have not yet achieved spiritual enlightenment,” she said, which led Thomas to heave the medal into the drink. He would later add, “There is a demonic presence still lurking in your soul that is hindering your journey. It is calling to you from the depths of Hell and needs to be released.”
“Yet you ain’t gonna have enough strength to do so on these hallowed grounds. You must find your inner peace elsewhere,” Jack's ghost said before all three spirits faded off into nothingness, leaving James Gilmore sullen and bitter, nerved by the fact that he still had something in his soul even after all this time...
...something had to give.
"WHAT!?!," James screamed as he found himself being bathed in pure white light, and then...
-----------
April 12, 2018 - 1:00 PM
Stardate: 95880.27
...he found himself snapped out of his slumber by the sounds of his alarm, the theme to The Price is Right.
James opened his eyes and stood up from the couch he had been dozing off on for the past two hours. He was back in the physical world, back on the lonely confines of Fiona's Texas Hill Country ranch amidst a mostly cloudy and windy afternoon. He shook his head slightly as he trudged towards the bathroom, where he stared at his haggard appearance in the mirror. “What the eff was that?!,” he muttered to himself as he combed his beard and hair, trying to make himself look a little more "neater" in the eyes of the general public.
The vision he saw, Heaven and the angels, was just that...a vision. Yet as he stepped out the back door and walked on the grass towards the shallow pond--towards the very same spot where he had his experience--it soon began to dawn on him that, perhaps, he should listen to the good-natured, helpful voices that comprised his "good" conscience and served as guides. The words that Jack, Linda, and Thomas had all told him was spot on: Gilmore still had his personal demons, and they weren't going to be released by staying on Fiona's ranch in solitude.
He didn't belong in the Palace of Lost Souls much less Fiona's future retirement site--they were not HIS home.
James had no choice: he had to return to the scene of his accident--his Corpus Christi villa--and confront the very monstrosities which had possessed him since that fateful October afternoon and, perhaps, even before that time.
He had to return to the one place where his FUCKING life made any sort of sense!
Running back into the farmhouse to escape the howling winds, James pulled his iPhone from his pocket and dialed a number. He waited for a few moments before getting an answer on the other end of the line. “Yo Mikhail, it’s JJ! How ya doin’ big guy!?!,” he hyped to his former bodyguard. We barely hear Mikhail's ecstatic tone of voice as he became quite overjoyed that his employer finally called him after being away five months.
James listened intently as Mikhail told him everything that had taken place since the former's departure. When he got a moment to speak, Gilmore did so with a fatherly inflection in his voice. “Listen buddy...I need ya to do me a biiiiig favor and get the villa ready. Okie-dokie?”
James took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew what he was going to say next.
“It’s time...I’m comin’ home.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Well howdy there pardner.