Post by James Gilmore on Apr 18, 2018 19:58:50 GMT
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again.
Life ain’t all about sunshine and rainbows. The road we take is rife with pitfalls that could trap even the most seasoned folks and send ‘em for a wild ride. Angel Blake, without his usual parlor tricks, proved that to me last week. Yet as I close my eyes, I can’t be afraid to say that I’ll be seein’ people like him again in the future. 'Cuz in the grander scheme of things, IWF has always been a place where I've never been afraid to test my own limits--even if it meant steppin' on a few toes by accident or design.
That bein’ said, movin’ on…and hoo-boy, Houston we have a problem.
It seems as if the other half of the fake idols, the almighty “blood dude” himself, Spike Kane--the man who wanted people to think he was truly reformed and all that mess--decides he wants to pull the old-timin’ trope of ambushin’ me just ‘cuz I love pushin’ buttons. As much as he’s pushed back at me before, I know that if there’s one thing that he wears on his shoulder more than everything he’s ever won, if It’s this simple yet powerful word:
Pride.
Let’s be real for a second Spike: I understand ya got the best gal in the world as a part of your life. I understand how she’s so important to ya and all that goodness that comes with it. Love is somethin’ that can bind people from different walks of life or opposin’ points of view together; you take great pride in what you and Pandora have done together and I can’t do nothin’ else except give ya a good “thumbs up.”
But ya see...with everything in the world around us, there’s always a catch.
After all, pride is a double-edge sword as the old sayin’ goes.
You’ve relished in the fact that, in your twenty-plus years of service to the gig, you’ve always had a knife at the ready, willin’ to stab others in the back just ‘cuz you ain’t on top the mountain. It’s made ya waltz out to a ring and think of the other wrestlers who bust their butts every week as simply bein’ there for the sake of collectin’ a pay ticket! It convinces ya to hog the spotlight away from MORE DESERVING people in this company that have proven that their measurin’ sticks were bigger than yours!
And yet through it all, people like myself are left to wonder one thing when it comes to you eschewin’ your “new leaf” and slippin’ back into old habits:
Why!?!
Why would ya wanna jump a poor widdle dreamer like yours truly?!
Oh buddy, ya think it might be just ‘cuz I just happened to pull your trigger, but nothin’ in this world is as simple as it looks. Come to reflect on it, it’s more than just a case of, say, me wantin’ to give the so-called almighty age of gods a case of “wounded pride; in fact, it goes a helluva lot deeper than that…
...especially when it’s YOU I’m talkin’ about.
Think about it Spike...then you’re on top, ya hear all them voices of you past victims in your head, still fightin’ with their proverbial guns and bombs, hppin’ for the chance to kick your butt and take that trophy away from you. They sit there, like angels in the heavens, chantin’ the same thing over and over in your ear:
”Keep on runnin’ hard, dude--stand your ground!”
When you ain’t on top, ya start to get the twitchies ‘cuz people have busted their butts to beat people like you and, thus, it makes you jealous. Ya start to get the yips ‘cuz ya think to yourself “gee, IWF is supposed to be at the forefront” yet you’re too afraid to just cruise on outta the world at warp speed and let the others shine their light on the world. Those same voices that once rooted for ya, those angels in your mind, now turn into demons that will scream at you from every angle whatsoever:
”Get outta that ring, dude! Go home to your video games…”
As a kid, i used to think that entities like angels or demons were nothin’ more than a bunch of bologna. Yet as I’ve taken this road I’m on, towards Joker in the Pack, I’ve had to deal with the aftereffects of an accident that I just wasn’t strong enough to avoid in the first place. I’ve had nightmares, I’ve had visions of people past and present, tellin’ me all these things about what real livin’ is truly all about--takin’ in the good that life gives me while standin’ my ground against the bad.
So yeah...ya could say I’m a believer in the supernatural. Voices, ghosts, things that enrich or poison your heart...they’re all true. The spectres in my mind--wise or satanic--exist for a reason. They tell me that I only got one life to live, that I gotta learn to live with what I’m given in this world ‘cuz life is too short to piss on!
Wanna know what them voices in your head are telin’ ya?
You’re afraid of your own mortality!
The amusin’ thing is...wrestlin’ is just part of the journey we take that’s called “life.” You’ve seen glimpses of what this sport, and the outside world, can do to you and that’s got ya scared to no end. You lost your son Xander to an awful accident, you dealt with cancer, you lost a wrestlin’ colleague, your own daughter gettin’ hung on a cross....and yet ya STILL think nothin’ is gonna kick you outta wrestlin’ or into another spiritual realm--even after makin’ people think that you’ve changed your way of thinkin’ about life for good.
I hate beatin’ around the bush here...but guess what?!
You CAN’T control the unexpected crap life springs on you!
You’re nothin’ more than a sick infantile egomaniac that would rather take life for granted instead of closin’ your eyes and understandin’ that the same things that happened to the people ya cherish and love could just as easily happen to you, and when somethin’ bad DOES happen to you, ya resort to lashin’ out and blamin’ others for your own misfortunes and mistakes, whinin’ that other people failed you instead of you failin’ yourself. That’s why nobody trusts you or believes in your bogus BS.
‘Cuz you think life is all about one thing and one thing only: Vengeance.
You’d rather think of me as weak, nothin’ more than just a cog in the machine.
Deep in your soul, you think that I’m motivated by the desire to put ya through a table for jumpin’ me last week. You think I’m stupid enough to unleash the sickness within me upon you ‘cuz ya tried to kill me last year. Yet as I’m thinkin’ to myself on what I gotta do to beat ya, I remember a l’il somethin’ my friend Jack once said: ”Take revenge on someone, start plottin’ two graves...one for your victim and one for yourself.”
Point is Spike, you’re DAMN wrong and ya know it!
’Cuz everything that I’ve had to deal with in my lifetime, for better or worse, was all about GROWTH, about learnin’ to accept that the biggest enemy I have to learn how to fight and overcome is my own self!
And I will never try and replicate the same choices I made that almost got me murdered one fateful October afternoon, last year on my own backyard beach.
Ever since that low point of my own existence, a moment that I ain’t proud of even to this day, I’ve taken a journey that’s put me through the fires of Hell before scratchin’ and clawin’ my way back into this business. I’ve pushed myself to work even harder than I’ve ever worked before just so I could get back into a ring and show people like you what I can do. I’m at a much better place than anything you can ever hope to dream I’d be, havin’ a much brighter future in my mind than what people like you were predictin’.
Why, ya ask me?! It’s real simple: the only direction I can go from bein’ “that guy in 2017”...is up.
All I can do, as the days count to our encounter...is peer upon the big, bad bully in the schoolyard that you are, look at ya squarely in the eye, and DARE you to try and silence me again. Truth be told, I have not felt this good about a match with anyone in a long, long time…
...’cuz I’ve been given the greatest and rarest gift that life can give someone, a second chance!
Despite the fact I’m gonna have my share of good or bad days, I’m gonna cherish this for the rest of my life--and I’m gonna do all I can to do things my way…
...the right way!
I will never bow to your will or stoop to your level, and if I’m gonna die on these words? I welcome you to press your luck. ‘Cuz I ain’t scared of you or the biggest principle in life itself: my own acceptance of mortality.
You said it yourself after I made a stupid mistake on Twitter after gettin’ angry: that I wore my love and passion for this gig on my sleeves like a badge of honor, that my mouth is the only weapon I’ve got ‘cuz I’m routinely surrounded by people that use other means to try and kick my tail. Now ya wanna shut me up, now ya wanna keep thinkin’ I’m just some sort of mouthpiece that’s only there to put food on the table. Well guess what...I dare you to try and kill me like ya did the last time.
It ain’t gonna happen--for I ain’t just another voice in the crowd.
I. Am. THE Voice!
One that will never be silenced by a relic of the past.
‘Cuz I’ll keep on comin’ back at you, more powerful than you can possibly imagine. ‘Cuz you can’t extinguish what ya can’t see, big dude! For in the end...my heart is gonna be doin’ the talkin’ for me, no matter what you do to me. For I will have stood my ground…and busted you up.
Without havin’ regrets.
Without holdin’ nothin’ back.
#D2D
======
”But you see it's not me
It's not my family
In your head, in your
Head they are fighting
With their tanks and their bombs
And their bombs and their guns
In your head,
In your head they are cryin'...“
JAMES’ PERSONAL LOG: Entry #14
Stardate: 95894.63
“Zombie”
”If there's anything I've learned about the weather in Corpus Christi during April, it's so damn beautiful!
And this particular Tuesday was no exception.
It had been a couple of days since I found myself back in the villa, and already I had the urge to catch up on the things that I've missed while I was gone. Yet I didn't have to go very far to fully understand just how much I missed bein' on the coast. The water, the beaches, watchin' the boats sail by...it all made me feel warm and fuzzy, as if I was wrappin' myself up in a blanket like a bundle of pure joy.
It felt good to be back in the land of the familiar, where I can talk to people and not feel threatened.
It felt good to be back at my own home, sleepin’ in my own bed.
Gettin’ settled in was easy enough. I mean...shoot, I had the kitchen with a fridge stocked with real-sugar Dr. Pepper and Pepsi. I had my office, which I use for readin’ and recordin’ my wrestlin’ promos. Heck, my bedroom had an HDTV and PS4 set-up for some good ol’-fashioned gamin’. There was, however, one spot on the property that I truly loved more than anything else, a place where I could meditate or catch a wave here and there.
My own private beachhead.
My own slice of heaven--or so I thought.
I thought of it as a sanctuary of solace, where I could close my eyes and make wishes to the stars above. I thought it was the one safe haven I could feel comfortable walking about without havin’ to worry about bad guys that wanna do me harm. Yet on this evenin’ I realized that I didn’t come back to my stompin’ grounds just so I can exchange pleasantries with familiar faces. There was somethin’ that I needed to do, somethin’ that was months in the makin’. I had to return to the very spot where my darkest hours began and confront the entity that was poisonin’ me.
As the skies turned darker, I could only pray that I wasn’t alone...“
At sunset…
Sporting an icepack on his head, James Gilmore stood quietly on his back porch, looking out towards the horizon as the waves from Corpus Christi Bay crashed on his private sand haven. Oh, it was a really beautiful Wednesday evening on the coast, and the Islander alum wanted to spend this evening relaxing on the one spot where he felt as if he couldn’t be bothered by anyone. He tried to keep his mind clear as he slowly stepped onto the sand and headed towards the water.
Alas, it wasn’t going to be that simple.
These grounds were the place where Gilmore’s darkest hours began, where everything fell apart around him in the blink of an eye. James stopped for a moment, then found himself kneeling on the ground in a manner similar to the aftermath of the accident that took place last October. Yet instead of looking down at the deceased intruder who tried to kill him, Gilmore found himself staring at the visage of his own self--a dark and brooding spiritual representation who wore a prison-issued spitter’s mask and sported blood coming from his left eye.
”Remember me…? I made you hurt those security guards yet you're just too stupid to know it!"
James gasped at the menacing voice. “Wha--?! What's goin' on,” he muttered to himself as the warm breezes suddenly stopped, leaving him to feel quite uncomfortable and downright terrified.
”I am the manifestation of your worst nightmares, of everything that is poison to your soul. Remember the moment he tried to kill you last year? I am the very demonic consciousness he implanted in your mind. I...am ‘Johnny.’”
“No way, dude! That can’t be true!,” James yelled at “Johnny” in disbelief. He found it hard to believe that people could plant their own living essences into others’ minds at first, mainly because he wanted to put the memories of his past behind him. Yet he found it quite hard to do so, especially considering that the person that “Johnny” referred to was the man who tried to kill him last year, Spike Kane.
Was it true? After all this time, was an essence of pure evil fused into Gilmore’s mind?
“And I don’t give a hoot what yer name might be, I want you outta my brain,” the he added, trying to stand back on his feet only to find himself being forced back into the sand by the spectre’s hands.
”Unlock my chains...or I shall control your vessel as I did throughout the course of a full calendar year and beyond,” it lashed with fury. It was at this moment in time when James began to think that he was, truly, going to be alone in confronting the hellish force in front of him. Yet suddenly, another voice chimed in--this time from the heavens above.
”Don’t listen to that jackass, pilgrim! He’s bad news…”
James looked up and saw the tough-as-nails spirit of his old mentor Jack Gaither standing tall and proud over him, looking quite spiffy in his authentic Western gear.
”Stand your ground. It’s the only way you can beat ‘em…”
”NO! I will make you relish in all the foul, vile darkness you were subjected into for all eternity.”
The two male voices began trading barbs at each other, fighting over the very existence of the former political candidate. James found himself conflicted, unsure of which path to take...until he felt a strong gust blow right in his face, followed by the touch of a warm hand that nestled softly on his shoulders. He turned his head slightly to the right and widened his eyes as he saw the aura of his own mother Linda--in the guise of the one person he truly loved more than anything else in the world.
That person...was Yulia Malakova.
”Mommy loves you JJ. You’re so loved sweetie...don’t give into that ‘thing’...”
James began to feel a sense of calm coming into his being, as if the soothing voice was comforting him after a childhood nightmare or during a really bad thunderstorm. He would soon manage to pull himself back to a single knee and close his eyes, listening to the troika of ghosts as they made their cases known.
”You cannot run and hide forever James Jefferson...you KNOW what to do. It is your destiny...give into your anger! I will keep controlling you, forcing you to do other people unimaginable harm until I am released--including your would-be killer’s own lovely wife! Unleash me or the pain you and everybody else will feel shall be unmatched…”
”Don’t take revenge--it’s wrong! You’ll wind up plottin’ two graves! You’ll regret it later. The ‘real you’ would never, ever hurt anyone intentionally, especially a woman…”
”Grammy, Grampy, everyone...we will always love you. Never forget that…”
James, now shaking and breathing very heavily, heard several gunshots go off in his thoughts as the dark entity made its final push and tried to keep him at a prone position. Yet as the voices came together, he began to realize that, perhaps, it all made sense to him, that angels and demons truly existed to help or hinder a person’s journey throughout life itself.
“Johnny” wanted vengeance after that fateful moment on January 2, 2017.
Yet James stood his ground, for he knew that revenge was wrong.
It was at that point in time when James began to realize that the spectres were testing him on the path he was going to take from here on out, and as he opened his eyes, Gilmore found himself back on his feet and gazing at the crystal clear skies above, the southerly winds creating a gentleness that made him feel good on the inside. “Never! I ain’t givin’ into that dark side shit!,” he bellowed out to the distant horizon, prompting the Satanic imagery of “Johnny” to scream out loud before exiting his thoughts and fading away into nothingness.
It was all over...for the time being.
Unaware of what had transpired, Mikhail Federov walked up and stood next to him, holding onto two cans of retro-style Pepsi. “Are you alright?,” the former bodyguard softly asked before handing an ice-cold can to his friend. James had passed the first test, one of many that was sure to come.
After all, even though he knew that the demon known as “Johnny” was not planning on going quietly, James Gilmore realized that, on this journey of his, that he would never be alone.
And that would mean more to him than anything else on the civilized planet.
TO BE CONTINUED…
”In your head, in your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
Hey, hey
What's in your head, in your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
Hey, hey, hey, oh…”
Life ain’t all about sunshine and rainbows. The road we take is rife with pitfalls that could trap even the most seasoned folks and send ‘em for a wild ride. Angel Blake, without his usual parlor tricks, proved that to me last week. Yet as I close my eyes, I can’t be afraid to say that I’ll be seein’ people like him again in the future. 'Cuz in the grander scheme of things, IWF has always been a place where I've never been afraid to test my own limits--even if it meant steppin' on a few toes by accident or design.
That bein’ said, movin’ on…and hoo-boy, Houston we have a problem.
It seems as if the other half of the fake idols, the almighty “blood dude” himself, Spike Kane--the man who wanted people to think he was truly reformed and all that mess--decides he wants to pull the old-timin’ trope of ambushin’ me just ‘cuz I love pushin’ buttons. As much as he’s pushed back at me before, I know that if there’s one thing that he wears on his shoulder more than everything he’s ever won, if It’s this simple yet powerful word:
Pride.
Let’s be real for a second Spike: I understand ya got the best gal in the world as a part of your life. I understand how she’s so important to ya and all that goodness that comes with it. Love is somethin’ that can bind people from different walks of life or opposin’ points of view together; you take great pride in what you and Pandora have done together and I can’t do nothin’ else except give ya a good “thumbs up.”
But ya see...with everything in the world around us, there’s always a catch.
After all, pride is a double-edge sword as the old sayin’ goes.
You’ve relished in the fact that, in your twenty-plus years of service to the gig, you’ve always had a knife at the ready, willin’ to stab others in the back just ‘cuz you ain’t on top the mountain. It’s made ya waltz out to a ring and think of the other wrestlers who bust their butts every week as simply bein’ there for the sake of collectin’ a pay ticket! It convinces ya to hog the spotlight away from MORE DESERVING people in this company that have proven that their measurin’ sticks were bigger than yours!
And yet through it all, people like myself are left to wonder one thing when it comes to you eschewin’ your “new leaf” and slippin’ back into old habits:
Why!?!
Why would ya wanna jump a poor widdle dreamer like yours truly?!
Oh buddy, ya think it might be just ‘cuz I just happened to pull your trigger, but nothin’ in this world is as simple as it looks. Come to reflect on it, it’s more than just a case of, say, me wantin’ to give the so-called almighty age of gods a case of “wounded pride; in fact, it goes a helluva lot deeper than that…
...especially when it’s YOU I’m talkin’ about.
Think about it Spike...then you’re on top, ya hear all them voices of you past victims in your head, still fightin’ with their proverbial guns and bombs, hppin’ for the chance to kick your butt and take that trophy away from you. They sit there, like angels in the heavens, chantin’ the same thing over and over in your ear:
”Keep on runnin’ hard, dude--stand your ground!”
When you ain’t on top, ya start to get the twitchies ‘cuz people have busted their butts to beat people like you and, thus, it makes you jealous. Ya start to get the yips ‘cuz ya think to yourself “gee, IWF is supposed to be at the forefront” yet you’re too afraid to just cruise on outta the world at warp speed and let the others shine their light on the world. Those same voices that once rooted for ya, those angels in your mind, now turn into demons that will scream at you from every angle whatsoever:
”Get outta that ring, dude! Go home to your video games…”
As a kid, i used to think that entities like angels or demons were nothin’ more than a bunch of bologna. Yet as I’ve taken this road I’m on, towards Joker in the Pack, I’ve had to deal with the aftereffects of an accident that I just wasn’t strong enough to avoid in the first place. I’ve had nightmares, I’ve had visions of people past and present, tellin’ me all these things about what real livin’ is truly all about--takin’ in the good that life gives me while standin’ my ground against the bad.
So yeah...ya could say I’m a believer in the supernatural. Voices, ghosts, things that enrich or poison your heart...they’re all true. The spectres in my mind--wise or satanic--exist for a reason. They tell me that I only got one life to live, that I gotta learn to live with what I’m given in this world ‘cuz life is too short to piss on!
Wanna know what them voices in your head are telin’ ya?
You’re afraid of your own mortality!
The amusin’ thing is...wrestlin’ is just part of the journey we take that’s called “life.” You’ve seen glimpses of what this sport, and the outside world, can do to you and that’s got ya scared to no end. You lost your son Xander to an awful accident, you dealt with cancer, you lost a wrestlin’ colleague, your own daughter gettin’ hung on a cross....and yet ya STILL think nothin’ is gonna kick you outta wrestlin’ or into another spiritual realm--even after makin’ people think that you’ve changed your way of thinkin’ about life for good.
I hate beatin’ around the bush here...but guess what?!
You CAN’T control the unexpected crap life springs on you!
You’re nothin’ more than a sick infantile egomaniac that would rather take life for granted instead of closin’ your eyes and understandin’ that the same things that happened to the people ya cherish and love could just as easily happen to you, and when somethin’ bad DOES happen to you, ya resort to lashin’ out and blamin’ others for your own misfortunes and mistakes, whinin’ that other people failed you instead of you failin’ yourself. That’s why nobody trusts you or believes in your bogus BS.
‘Cuz you think life is all about one thing and one thing only: Vengeance.
You’d rather think of me as weak, nothin’ more than just a cog in the machine.
Deep in your soul, you think that I’m motivated by the desire to put ya through a table for jumpin’ me last week. You think I’m stupid enough to unleash the sickness within me upon you ‘cuz ya tried to kill me last year. Yet as I’m thinkin’ to myself on what I gotta do to beat ya, I remember a l’il somethin’ my friend Jack once said: ”Take revenge on someone, start plottin’ two graves...one for your victim and one for yourself.”
Point is Spike, you’re DAMN wrong and ya know it!
’Cuz everything that I’ve had to deal with in my lifetime, for better or worse, was all about GROWTH, about learnin’ to accept that the biggest enemy I have to learn how to fight and overcome is my own self!
And I will never try and replicate the same choices I made that almost got me murdered one fateful October afternoon, last year on my own backyard beach.
Ever since that low point of my own existence, a moment that I ain’t proud of even to this day, I’ve taken a journey that’s put me through the fires of Hell before scratchin’ and clawin’ my way back into this business. I’ve pushed myself to work even harder than I’ve ever worked before just so I could get back into a ring and show people like you what I can do. I’m at a much better place than anything you can ever hope to dream I’d be, havin’ a much brighter future in my mind than what people like you were predictin’.
Why, ya ask me?! It’s real simple: the only direction I can go from bein’ “that guy in 2017”...is up.
All I can do, as the days count to our encounter...is peer upon the big, bad bully in the schoolyard that you are, look at ya squarely in the eye, and DARE you to try and silence me again. Truth be told, I have not felt this good about a match with anyone in a long, long time…
...’cuz I’ve been given the greatest and rarest gift that life can give someone, a second chance!
Despite the fact I’m gonna have my share of good or bad days, I’m gonna cherish this for the rest of my life--and I’m gonna do all I can to do things my way…
...the right way!
I will never bow to your will or stoop to your level, and if I’m gonna die on these words? I welcome you to press your luck. ‘Cuz I ain’t scared of you or the biggest principle in life itself: my own acceptance of mortality.
You said it yourself after I made a stupid mistake on Twitter after gettin’ angry: that I wore my love and passion for this gig on my sleeves like a badge of honor, that my mouth is the only weapon I’ve got ‘cuz I’m routinely surrounded by people that use other means to try and kick my tail. Now ya wanna shut me up, now ya wanna keep thinkin’ I’m just some sort of mouthpiece that’s only there to put food on the table. Well guess what...I dare you to try and kill me like ya did the last time.
It ain’t gonna happen--for I ain’t just another voice in the crowd.
I. Am. THE Voice!
One that will never be silenced by a relic of the past.
‘Cuz I’ll keep on comin’ back at you, more powerful than you can possibly imagine. ‘Cuz you can’t extinguish what ya can’t see, big dude! For in the end...my heart is gonna be doin’ the talkin’ for me, no matter what you do to me. For I will have stood my ground…and busted you up.
Without havin’ regrets.
Without holdin’ nothin’ back.
#D2D
======
”But you see it's not me
It's not my family
In your head, in your
Head they are fighting
With their tanks and their bombs
And their bombs and their guns
In your head,
In your head they are cryin'...“
JAMES’ PERSONAL LOG: Entry #14
Stardate: 95894.63
“Zombie”
”If there's anything I've learned about the weather in Corpus Christi during April, it's so damn beautiful!
And this particular Tuesday was no exception.
It had been a couple of days since I found myself back in the villa, and already I had the urge to catch up on the things that I've missed while I was gone. Yet I didn't have to go very far to fully understand just how much I missed bein' on the coast. The water, the beaches, watchin' the boats sail by...it all made me feel warm and fuzzy, as if I was wrappin' myself up in a blanket like a bundle of pure joy.
It felt good to be back in the land of the familiar, where I can talk to people and not feel threatened.
It felt good to be back at my own home, sleepin’ in my own bed.
Gettin’ settled in was easy enough. I mean...shoot, I had the kitchen with a fridge stocked with real-sugar Dr. Pepper and Pepsi. I had my office, which I use for readin’ and recordin’ my wrestlin’ promos. Heck, my bedroom had an HDTV and PS4 set-up for some good ol’-fashioned gamin’. There was, however, one spot on the property that I truly loved more than anything else, a place where I could meditate or catch a wave here and there.
My own private beachhead.
My own slice of heaven--or so I thought.
I thought of it as a sanctuary of solace, where I could close my eyes and make wishes to the stars above. I thought it was the one safe haven I could feel comfortable walking about without havin’ to worry about bad guys that wanna do me harm. Yet on this evenin’ I realized that I didn’t come back to my stompin’ grounds just so I can exchange pleasantries with familiar faces. There was somethin’ that I needed to do, somethin’ that was months in the makin’. I had to return to the very spot where my darkest hours began and confront the entity that was poisonin’ me.
As the skies turned darker, I could only pray that I wasn’t alone...“
At sunset…
Sporting an icepack on his head, James Gilmore stood quietly on his back porch, looking out towards the horizon as the waves from Corpus Christi Bay crashed on his private sand haven. Oh, it was a really beautiful Wednesday evening on the coast, and the Islander alum wanted to spend this evening relaxing on the one spot where he felt as if he couldn’t be bothered by anyone. He tried to keep his mind clear as he slowly stepped onto the sand and headed towards the water.
Alas, it wasn’t going to be that simple.
These grounds were the place where Gilmore’s darkest hours began, where everything fell apart around him in the blink of an eye. James stopped for a moment, then found himself kneeling on the ground in a manner similar to the aftermath of the accident that took place last October. Yet instead of looking down at the deceased intruder who tried to kill him, Gilmore found himself staring at the visage of his own self--a dark and brooding spiritual representation who wore a prison-issued spitter’s mask and sported blood coming from his left eye.
”Remember me…? I made you hurt those security guards yet you're just too stupid to know it!"
James gasped at the menacing voice. “Wha--?! What's goin' on,” he muttered to himself as the warm breezes suddenly stopped, leaving him to feel quite uncomfortable and downright terrified.
”I am the manifestation of your worst nightmares, of everything that is poison to your soul. Remember the moment he tried to kill you last year? I am the very demonic consciousness he implanted in your mind. I...am ‘Johnny.’”
“No way, dude! That can’t be true!,” James yelled at “Johnny” in disbelief. He found it hard to believe that people could plant their own living essences into others’ minds at first, mainly because he wanted to put the memories of his past behind him. Yet he found it quite hard to do so, especially considering that the person that “Johnny” referred to was the man who tried to kill him last year, Spike Kane.
Was it true? After all this time, was an essence of pure evil fused into Gilmore’s mind?
“And I don’t give a hoot what yer name might be, I want you outta my brain,” the he added, trying to stand back on his feet only to find himself being forced back into the sand by the spectre’s hands.
”Unlock my chains...or I shall control your vessel as I did throughout the course of a full calendar year and beyond,” it lashed with fury. It was at this moment in time when James began to think that he was, truly, going to be alone in confronting the hellish force in front of him. Yet suddenly, another voice chimed in--this time from the heavens above.
”Don’t listen to that jackass, pilgrim! He’s bad news…”
James looked up and saw the tough-as-nails spirit of his old mentor Jack Gaither standing tall and proud over him, looking quite spiffy in his authentic Western gear.
”Stand your ground. It’s the only way you can beat ‘em…”
”NO! I will make you relish in all the foul, vile darkness you were subjected into for all eternity.”
The two male voices began trading barbs at each other, fighting over the very existence of the former political candidate. James found himself conflicted, unsure of which path to take...until he felt a strong gust blow right in his face, followed by the touch of a warm hand that nestled softly on his shoulders. He turned his head slightly to the right and widened his eyes as he saw the aura of his own mother Linda--in the guise of the one person he truly loved more than anything else in the world.
That person...was Yulia Malakova.
”Mommy loves you JJ. You’re so loved sweetie...don’t give into that ‘thing’...”
James began to feel a sense of calm coming into his being, as if the soothing voice was comforting him after a childhood nightmare or during a really bad thunderstorm. He would soon manage to pull himself back to a single knee and close his eyes, listening to the troika of ghosts as they made their cases known.
”You cannot run and hide forever James Jefferson...you KNOW what to do. It is your destiny...give into your anger! I will keep controlling you, forcing you to do other people unimaginable harm until I am released--including your would-be killer’s own lovely wife! Unleash me or the pain you and everybody else will feel shall be unmatched…”
”Don’t take revenge--it’s wrong! You’ll wind up plottin’ two graves! You’ll regret it later. The ‘real you’ would never, ever hurt anyone intentionally, especially a woman…”
”Grammy, Grampy, everyone...we will always love you. Never forget that…”
James, now shaking and breathing very heavily, heard several gunshots go off in his thoughts as the dark entity made its final push and tried to keep him at a prone position. Yet as the voices came together, he began to realize that, perhaps, it all made sense to him, that angels and demons truly existed to help or hinder a person’s journey throughout life itself.
“Johnny” wanted vengeance after that fateful moment on January 2, 2017.
Yet James stood his ground, for he knew that revenge was wrong.
It was at that point in time when James began to realize that the spectres were testing him on the path he was going to take from here on out, and as he opened his eyes, Gilmore found himself back on his feet and gazing at the crystal clear skies above, the southerly winds creating a gentleness that made him feel good on the inside. “Never! I ain’t givin’ into that dark side shit!,” he bellowed out to the distant horizon, prompting the Satanic imagery of “Johnny” to scream out loud before exiting his thoughts and fading away into nothingness.
It was all over...for the time being.
Unaware of what had transpired, Mikhail Federov walked up and stood next to him, holding onto two cans of retro-style Pepsi. “Are you alright?,” the former bodyguard softly asked before handing an ice-cold can to his friend. James had passed the first test, one of many that was sure to come.
After all, even though he knew that the demon known as “Johnny” was not planning on going quietly, James Gilmore realized that, on this journey of his, that he would never be alone.
And that would mean more to him than anything else on the civilized planet.
TO BE CONTINUED…
”In your head, in your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
Hey, hey
What's in your head, in your head
Zombie, zombie, zombie
Hey, hey, hey, oh…”
Well howdy there pardner.