Gunplay: Echo Diary Entry # 8 (Dave R.)

1878: Badlands, South Dakota Territory?

I was with a gang of bad men. I didn’t trust them; their names nor their stories of where they had been and what they had done. I don’t usually trust anyone really. Trust could be the death of you; if you let your guard down your neck may be snapped before you know why or who did you in.
And this isn’t something that at the time I wrote down in a journal, or wanted to remember. But it was an event I would never be allowed to forget. The participants and location remain vague to my memory, but this was a very long time ago, so dear reader, cut me some slack.
I was with this gang, partly for convenience of not being on my own for a time, partly for fun.. and partly because the membership was offered to me. After spending quite a bit of time on the trail it was nice not to be hearing my own thoughts. Thats why drink, opium and women were always a respite to me.
Anyway.. my memory that I cannot shake as of late, is this gun battle that I and this group were involved in. It was late at night and in the middle of this quiet town. We were doing something (crime of some sort I am quite sure) when the law, or vigilantes came upon us. And as the firefight broke out I took down two and edged around the side of this alley, hoping to get into a shadow, or a break for freedom.
As I did so I turned and saw two of the untrustworthy gang about to be gunned down. I aimed at the assailants and they went down quite quickly.. As the two morons that allowed their backs to be exposed looked at me in a somewhat thank you I felt a shot.. felt it before I heard it.. hit me right on the side. The force of it whipped me around and down and suddenly I was eating dirt. I don’t remember screaming but I am quite sure anyone feeling that would… I rolled over, ignoring the hopeful graze and plugged my attacker right in the chest. He went down and let out a strange noise as the air left his lungs for the last time.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned back and put myself on my knees. Ahead of me was a dead quiet street flooded with deep shadow. I pushed myself up and lifted my shocked body and made my way, tilted and low towards the safety of the darkness. By the time I reached the first wall of white clapboard I was standing up slightly straight. I checked myself then, in the dark and felt wetness on my side, upper leg? I had to get to safety.
I crept in shadow up near the walls, and made my way down the street. The shock was taking a toll on my body and dizziness was setting in.. either that or the entire town was built on the cliffside of a mountain and I was heading down. Either way the starlit sky was spinning out of control as well, which didn’t bode well for my state of mind.
A few blocks up I turned down an alley. I couldn’t hear the gunplay anymore and wondered if someone was coming for me and how my gang had made out. Little did I know I was leaving a blood trail on the road and nearly every wall I touched.
Turning into the alley I found darkness to hide in and slid down the wall to half sit. I cocked my gun just in case.. and waited…

I must of passed out, because I woke up as at least two strangers were up on me and was talking about me in hushed tones. I lifted my gun at them and heard “Woah there.. he’s awake.. and don’t shoot friend.. “ identifying themselves as two of the gang I had been with.
They made the determination I was in a bad way, but since I had saved their lives and had been injured in the process decided to help.  Suddenly they had me up, between them and we were running… well they were, and I was being dragged, to another part of town.
By now the pain was making itself known and I was in and out of consciousness. When I woke up several days later I found I had been hit in the thigh. Bullet had been removed but I would limp for awhile if not forever.. and have issues with the leg on cold nights.

Yes, I am hoping telling this story will get out of my head so I can rest well now.. knowing it is has been told. Thanks for reading dear Reader.

written by Dave R./ SMB     copyright  @wickedlydrivenmedia2017

Dear Reader: Echo Entry #7 (Dave R.)

cropped-7a7272ab993f49e8f94029eb296fdd0bSo, Dear Reader… I am quite well aware you are there, waiting in the breadth of the web to read my words and glean from my stories a guess as to who I was or who I am now… or better yet, get interested in the idea of the movie Echo.. which is the whole point to this; that and the eventual Novel series; one that, if you like my stories you might enjoy. Apparently, I did soo much in my life that it cannot be honed down to a movie; at least not yet.
And considering the film Echo is based on this truth, it kinda makes sense to break the characterization for a moment. You see this story that we are gearing up for, and working on so diligently, is based on a true story about me, reconnecting with my present life, ‘Mercury’. Being a strong persona that I am I ended up bleeding into her in a way, affecting her life since she was a little girl, and making a very real connection. I have given her my strength when she was a puddle on the floor and couldn’t move, and she, in turn, is keeping me from being killed off before my time. We are influencing each other. But the story of Echo is how we came to be this way, and have this connection.

In experiencing all this I found my way to walk this world once again. Although the world has changed greatly from my time.. and to take a step in becoming a different person; not just Mercury, but experiencing a new way of living. I think of it as the ultimate disguise. I live in a city that wanted to see me hang in my day; and yet I walk the streets and experience joy and wisdom, art and culture, right under the noses of the law. The law that was after me is long dead, and the records state I was killed in one way or the other. So I am free.
I do not have my own body anymore of course; that part of me is in the ground in the Pacific Northwest; but I have my personality, my memories, and everything that was me back then. Mercury tends to believe we may be living simultaneous lives, and if so, we can influence each other to be better. I like that idea and get a kick out of thinking of my gang, during my lifetime, thinking me intensely insane as I talk to her in my dreams as if I have smoked some opium or drank too much whiskey. We shall see how the historical evidence has changed. I have witnessed with my own eyes some slight variations on what was once true about my fate, and for that, I am grateful and humbled.

We have been called out/ recognized, in this present life, as to who I am, and who Mercury was several times, which shocked and frightened Mercury at first. But she since sees the beauty of this validation and no longer sees herself as just her, a lost girl wondering who she truly is and where she came from. Reveling in this experience and the truth of it has made me proud and is making her a stronger beautiful woman and this brings us both great joy.

Being a woman was hard for me at first. But it keeps me in my place.. as I do not want to overtake her life or have to deal with men who may think like I used to about women and treat them badly. I have learned my lesson, and hope I did so before my death; after all, I did have a wife and children. But how I treated them has affected Mercury as she knows the darkest thoughts of men because of me. Because of this, she is still single. She is working it out and I am helping her work through it. (All this sexual harassment stuff in the news brought this up.)
I did have one friend confess to me he killed himself when he found his spirit in a girls body. I don’t know if this is true, but it shows just how cowardly he was. Life is but an experience we all share, Dear Reader. And to cut short one’s life because of the unknown is just plain bad karma building. And he more than likely will have to come back again and again until he understands that. Me? Mercury and I? We want to learn our lessons, gain our wisdom, and move on and wake up from this odd state into our true selves. But in the meantime, we are here.

I feel sorry for my friends that are stuck in other lives at this time and do not have the capacity or the allowance to be themselves in some way or another. That can be the ultimate hell after all.
My last name will be known eventually on here when the time is right. But it is hardly the point. Although in so doing the book series and the movie following that will vindicate my name from obscurity. I was a bigger name in my day in the papers then all these so-called famed western symbols you know today.. but time has a way of changing the truth to the survivor’s version of history. The true nature of my world and my name will come into focus once again.

So, Dear Reader, I hope you stay tuned to this story as it is told… and get interested in the movie Echo. This is all based on real experiences from its authors and is a true telling of events. Belief systems have mentioned reincarnation.. but not so blatantly as we will lay out.. And in the end, maybe more people can acknowledge their older inner selves, and know who they were truly in the past, to improve upon their lives in the present.

Yours truly,
Dave R. edited by Sophia Bungay

P.S. If you have questions and comments we look forward to answering them.

Copyright @Wickedlydrivenmedia2017

Echo: A Diary Entry # 6: Bleeding into Dreams

7a7272ab993f49e8f94029eb296fdd0bI am in incredible pain at the moment.. and have been since last night. I haven’t done anything strange, not that I know of.. in fact it was a rather normal week of work and friendships; split by the occasional odd dream of another time and place.

But no heavy lifting, no packing, or horses whipping their reins out of my hands to take off, as my Tennessee Walker is want to do from time to time..

No, this pain was new, but at the same time, familiar.

I was sleeping last night when it came, hitting me like a rifle shot to my hip, and sending me reeling. When I fell asleep I slept in batches, waking up to watch for movement in the dark night on a hill.

Which again, strange.. as I was sleeping in a comfy queen size bed with two cats piled up nearby and warm heat drifting in from the vent, making a cocoon for me to slumber in.. ah the modern living of our current time frame.

But thats not where I was.. in another reality I was stuck on some god forsaken mesa, dusty, and snake infested. We had come far, ridden ’til our horses were nearly dead, splitting up earlier with the others of the botched job to make it harder for the law to follow.

Flashes of a train, dark iron and confusion fill my brain, but still the constant pain brings me back to the present.. or what I think is the present.

A rifle shot in the distance and I roll in agony, uprooting the cats that are sleeping and snoring up to this point, so that I can get my hand on the, what I am quite sure is.., a gunshot wound. Fresh warm blood can be felt underneath my palm and my shirt.. I grit my teeth and try to sit up and instead of feeling pillows I feel dirt and sand.. not a good sign.

I sit up and in the distance I don’t see my room, but the horizon line as the moon shines down… and far down in a wash I can barely make out a horse and rider.

Ed, my cohort this go round, is visibly panicking, checking his led and setting up for a fight.

I’m calm, this was meant to be in some way. And I knew this was a possibility. Quite frankly Ed’s fear is oozing self doubt; part of the problem on the job. I grip the wall I’m against and get up, pain shockwaves through me and I stumble at first, before I’m able to steady myself. Without a word I head around the corner of the cliff and hide comfortably in the dark of an overhang.

The cats, at this point, have turned their kind eyes and are watching me on the bed, wondering if I will ever settle again so they can sleep. I’m flailing around I guess, and half wonder if I’ll have to clean the sheets of this sandy rock I’m on tomorrow morning…

Reality bleeding into unreality… or vice versa. At this point I’m not sure which.

I settle down and check my gun.. and then sip some whiskey, to take the edge off. I can hear Ed whisper calling me now.. but I don’t answer him. In his desperation he can get us both killed.

The exertion of the move and in the middle of the pain, somewhere I fall asleep.

Lovely soft pillows greet my head and I sigh, hoping this strange night is done… but as I settle into the blankets I hear Ed yelp and go silent.. then low voices and they are coming my way.

I reach for my gun but as I do all I feel is soft mattress and no, dirt.. but where the hell…

Suddenly I feel the lost gun under my fingers of my left hand as my right arm is wrenched back and I’m in a battle with a dark figure who hisses at me to stop. I make contact with some part of him but its too damn dark and I’m at the disadvantage.

And instead of a cool pillow I feel cold steel barrel at my temple. I freeze and right before I go down to eat dirt, my arm is wrenched again, shooting pain up through my tendon.

My hands are tied behind me and nearly black out as the pain from my side doesn’t quite yield to the new positioning. Thats when the dark figure notices and quickly rolls me over, curses and then I’m out… swimming in a sea to my pillows my annoyed cats.. a respite, however brief.

I wake up in the morning to a sore side, and a wrenched arm that hurts all day.. but thankful at least for now, no sand in the sheets.
No wonder I need sleeping pills..

(written in cooperation with Sophia B. & DR.)   Wickedlydrivenmedia@2017

Echo Diary #5 (Bleeding Into Each Other, Dave R. & Mercury Rose)

7a7272ab993f49e8f94029eb296fdd0b(Please read the previous Diaries prior to reading this excerpt, especially #3 for context)

Dave’s Strange Dream, Trinidad, Colorado 1878

I had the strangest dream last night. I had come into town for some grub and a little fun. I had been hanging out in the hills covering the railway men with fire power, but I needed a break. I ate at a saloon that had some pretty hefty steaks. Disappointed in not seeing a card game going on I spent some time with a girl, and came out of her room some time later. There still wasn’t a decent card game to be had and I was feeling a bit bored and tired from the trail. So I headed to the opium tents the Chinese had set up nearby.

What I had always loved about the Chinese was the way the made me feel welcome; and without whispering a word they escorted me into a smokey, dimly lit tent. The man beckoned me through drapery surrounding a nice bed with silk pillows, and presented the smoking pipe as he set it up for me. I took my boots and hat off and hung my rig nearby, and reclined in comfort. When the first smokey puff hit my lungs I smiled, as I could feel its affects almost immediately and knew I would rest well.

What I could not imagine was the dream I would have. Sure, I had wanted to find a card game, but this was a bit ridiculous… I dreamt I was in a cabin in the woods and several men, dressed very oddly (weird colors, blue jeans with new buttons I had never seen, strange colors on their shirts and other worldly hats and glasses), were playing poker. They were drinking out of strange colored tin cans and it smelled like beer. The light above them was a gas mechanism I had seen plenty of times at saloons and hotels. The stove in the room also looked familiar. But the rest? Very strange. There was a large glass window that the table was set up against and there were giant white and tan moths banging themselves against it to get at the light.

The game itself looked friendly, but as I approached the host he smiled my way lovingly, then wrapped his long arms around my waist. Stunned, I looked down at myself and realized I wasn’t me.. I was a teenage girl, dressed with a lacy top, jeans and little pink weird spongy like shoes on my feet. I immediately backed away from ‘Daddy’s’ hand and all the men, right into ‘Mom’ who turned around and tried to hug me. She was also wearing pants, and she said something to me. I tried to respond and got out the words “I just wanted to play.” All the men laughed. That was when Mom said something I didn’t catch and led me to another room with a very soft couch, and given a book to read. I woke up the next day without a hangover, feeling rested and good.. but the dream still haunted me. Side note: I did have a whiskey and played cards the following day, cleaned house. Doc would of been proud.
June 1983, High Sierra Mountains, California

We were spending another summer in the Sierra’s again, and it was a wonderful time in my youth. I loved it up here. and other then that strange experience climbing the rocks and find that horseman shooting at me, life was pretty straight forward and normal. My Mom had chalked it up to my creative imagination and lumped it in with the finding of faeries in the dell. But knew something had happened, and it had changed me; at this point though I was unsure in what way.

We would regularly get together for pot lucks with the other cabin families and I helped Mom make pies and salads to go with everything else. This time we were hosting it at our cabin and things went smoothly. We had a delicious meal and even enjoyed the company as we caught up with each others lives during the rest of the year.

After dinner a few of the men stayed and played some poker. I watched them for awhile from the stairs, before coming down and over to the table. My Mom was finishing up putting things away behind us. My Dad wrapped his arms around my waist and asked me what I needed. For some reason just then I didn’t want him touching me and pulled away, straight into Mom. And then, even though I didn’t want to play cards, I suddenly heard myself asking “can I play?” knowing deep down that if I did play I would beat them all. They laughed at my request of course, and my Mom took me into the other room, mentioning to me to let the men have their fun, and handed me my book..

The oddest thing though, was when I fell asleep while reading and dreamt I had an old Chinese man helping me off a bed with red silk pillows..

By Sophia Bungay, inspired by D.R. Copyright @Wickedlydrivenmedia August 2017

Buried: Echo Diary #4 (Dave R. & Mercury Rose)


September 1880, Lincoln County New Mexico:

I had left the bigger towns of the Northern territory and had made it to the deep crystalline white sands of the desert. I was heading to a place I knew I could ease up for a few days, take stock of the situation and decide what the plan was. I was in some trouble, but in had some worse scrapes before. Maybe it was time to head to new territory; I had friends to the west where the red desert lay, that would gladly welcome a gun for hire like me, to deal with their little legal problem.

I continued past the white desert into the foothills and into a canyon where the air came from the South and you could feel the humidity. As I reached the ridge I slowed my horse to a trot. It was the middle of the night and the occasional creek of my saddle and a horse shoe scraping on stone didn’t wake the homesteads I passed.
The moon greeted me from behind the clouds as I passed over the babbling creek and turned the bay up into the forest. I paused at the top of a ridge and sighed. This place had become home and I relished the peace that surrounded me now. The crusted old oak was still there and I had to smile as I dismounted then, letting my only trusted companion now graze and rest.
Taking my gloves off I felt the old wood against my fingers I kneeled down, feeling my way along the tree. There in between the exposed roots I began to dig. I would make quick work of it and get to what I was after.
Once it was done I took a long draw from my flask and leaned against the trunk of the old oak, looking at the moon and contemplating the long ride ahead.
April 1982, Lincoln County New Mexico

Anxious preteen stuck in the back of a family car as the parents decided which roadroadtrip would be the most exciting to get to our destination. I ignored them for the most part, concentrating on my music blaring into my ears from my walkman that held my sanity.
The dull lifeless desert I had started to loathe had given way to white sparkly sand. That’s when it began. I recognized this place, this white beauty under a deep blue sky. It felt as if I was in the Sierra’s again and all that I was, and all that I knew of me, was remembering something old in my memory again. The recollection came greeting me and the preteen wants and desires melted away.
As the car I was in drove through a canyon I knew more and more. Memory came flooding back, tree lines and rocks looked familiar and the creek we passed over made my heart race as I knew it was there before I even heard it. My parents were delighted I cared about the trip now as I started asking questions they could not answer, about where we were, and handed me the map.
I poured over it and saw a ridge that went up from where we were now. As the car stopped and my family got involved in looking at land to buy, I started to explore. The air seemed somehow more humid here and inviting. I worked my way up a hill and came to what looked like a deer trail. I could still hear my parents discussing things and so wasn’t that far from them.. so I kept going, working my senses and feeling things I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I was no longer Rose… I was someone who felt home here, who knew exactly where to go.
I topped a ridge and walked down a small rise and found an old oak tree. The thing had seen better days, but looked familiar. So familiar I closed my eyes to get my bearings as a sea of dizziness flooded my body. I leaned against the tree to get a grip and felt a charred line on the trunk, probably from a lightning strike. I slumped down and sat in the dirt and strange thoughts entered my mind that were not my own. Of gunfights, camaraderie, and whiskey? Strange as a pre-teen I had thought of such things except in the old westerns my Dad would watch sometimes. Then memories of the man shooting at me at the rocks in Sierras came to my mind. Was that not a dream, or was I just hallucinating now.
For some reason I knew I had to dig, and feeling between the roots of the old oak I did just that, digging until my fingers hit the softer, cold earth on my fingers. I was about to give up on this odd fruitless quest, when my hands felt something hard. Digging around it I was able to pull it loose. It was caked with dirt and hard to distinguish.
Deciding this odd adventure had to end I took this odd relic and worked my way back down the ridge. Dusting myself off so my family wouldn’t suspect I found a creek and washed my hands and then took out my clod of dirt discovery.. As I washed it off in the cold water.. to my amazement it was an old coin. I nearly dropped it in the creek from surprise but managed to keep a hold of it, my hands shaking, not from the snow melt water, but what lay in my hand. I now had proof, of … something; that maybe my strange dreams and illusions were not dreams at all.

(Written by S.M.Bungay, inspired by events and D.R.)

Copyright @2017 Wickedlydrivenmedia

Ricochet: Echo Diary #3: (Mercury Rose & Dave R.)

Echo: Diary Entry #3
(Mercury Rose & Dave R.)

June 1979: High Sierra Mountains, California

I loved going to the mountains each year. Getting away from the big city and into the deep pine forests and climbing to high mountain lakes for a few months during the summers; it was my way of rewinding from the year, and seemingly connect with something else within me. Our family has a cabin up in the high mountains, where it snows all winter and the run- off in the summer would make the river swell to white water and tumble down through the valley and by our sleepy cozy home.

My imagination would run high, as most children’s do, but my dreams were deeper and felt so real that I would wake up in the pre-dawn hours, with a cold sweat and a fear that someone was watching me. Someone who knew everything, every fiber of every being, and the truth behind life.

I felt wild then, and would run our barefoot and fancy free, running through grass and onto logs over rushing rivers. Climbed rope swings and giant redwoods. I imagined fairies in meadows as I scrambled over creeks on fallen logs. I ran with the wind in my hair and felt in tune with nature. But I knew there was something more. To this world, to this nature I was running through and relishing in. But at the time I was not quite sure what that was.

Black Wolf Falls, Mineral King CA. by Sharon Devol

When I was nine I had an experience. I loved climbing up a rocky outcropping above the cabins where we lived in the summer. It was a place few people noticed or went to, and I loved the challenge of scrambling up the rock through trees, finding cracks in the rock to pull myself up, and finding little shelves above the hamlet where the only sound was the wind through the pine trees and an occasional bird cry or chipmunk surprised by my presence. It was a place of solace for me.

One day, however, I was meditating in the sun on a rocky outcropping when I heard what sounded like steal horse shoe on rock, the creak of a leather saddle, and a cock of a rifle. I knew these sounds from watching western movies with my Dad.

My eyes opened and I froze, fearful and bewildered. There was no way there was a horse behind the rocky outcropping I was stationed. Sure there was a road that wound up behind my vantage point, but no one owned a horse there, or had use, or legal reason to cock a gun.

I was shaking in fear because the sounds were soo real. But I couldn’t sit there forever in frozen state of fear. Just then I heard someone dismount and boots on dirt and rock. I gulped, and pulled myself up to peak over the other side. I saw a shadowy figure in black..

A gun fired and the bullet ricocheted on the rock and I ducked. Another one spun off the side and I felt dirt and rock hit the back of my head. I had to get out of there!

I never had gone back down the way I came up, until then. I scrambled down the rock on my butt, slipping on the pine needles and not caring if anyone saw my very ungraceful attempt at survival. As I did so I heard a shout from the shooter, and then retreating hooves of a horse. The wind caught whatever else was happening above me as I made it down the rocky surface to behind some cabins. I snuck by the cabins and got onto the road, the asphalt warm in the midday sun. I ran down the road towards home, and then paused at the road that led up to around the outcropping; where the shooter would be. Seeing no hoof marks in the dirt, or any sign I decided against investigating and ran home… confused, and yet, knowing that that experience had felt all too familiar to me for some reason.. but how? Was my imagination just too much, or was something else going on…

That night in my dreams I relived the experience over and over, however the shadowy figure looked more real, palpable and calculating. He wore a dark duster and his horse was a bay. And in the dream I was older, and armed, and shot back at him before retreating down the hill.

I woke up in a cold sweat, but hot, as if I was actually running down that mountain. And then it struck me. The searing pain in my side. I didn’t know what was going on and cried out. As I tried to get my bearings and my bedroom spun out of control around me I realized I was feeling what a bullet wound would be. As I knew that thats what it was. Why? How would a nine year old girl have that knowledge?! I reached for the area my hand drew blood. I could feel the wet sticky substance on my fingers, and could smell the coppery tincture of what exactly it was. I somehow managed to pass out from the pain, or fall asleep…

In the morning I woke up, no longer in excruciating pain, and the blood was no where to be found. Was that a dream, or nightmare? As I sat up in bed I felt some pain and found a circular bruise where the dreamy bullet wound had been…. What was going on?

He found me.. somehow… I cursed under my breath as another shot hit the rocks beside me. I thought I had lost the posse, but apparently I hadn’t shaken them as well as I had hoped. Or this was another bounty hunter, which was possible as he was alone.
I had climbed up this rocky mountain, pushing my horse to his limits, until I knew I couldn’t push him farther. Then I hid him in the thick brush and had taken a defensive position up on a rocky outcropping. But this guy had found me..

Another gunshot went off and I got nicked by the dirt and rock. Time to move! I cocked my pistols and shot a few rounds at him, hoping the rock would be sufficient cover. And when the assailant had backed off because of my barrage of gunfire, I hightailed it out of there, and down the rocky outcropping, the vertical way down.

By the time I reached the half way mark he had recovered from his fear, and was shooting at me from above. I swung by my arm to grab onto another granite slab, which gave me, finally adequate cover. I breathed a sigh of relief, and that was when I noticed the blood. The $@#$!# had got me, hit me in the side. I breathed in the hot pain that I suddenly noticed and checked out the wound. It was a thru and thru, on my side above my right hip, and bloody. But I had been through worse.

I tied it off so the blood loss would slow, dragged out my flask from my pocket and checked my rounds. Below me, hidden in the thicket was my horse, rested and waiting for me. It was just a matter of getting down the rest of the way……

Written by S.B. Inspired by D.R.


7a7272ab993f49e8f94029eb296fdd0bWhen I was in grade school I became very devout to God. Something deep within me felt a comfort in knowing and being under his care, worshipping and praying to him. I felt justified in these feelings and felt as if I was forever safe within this religion. My parents let me choose my own path, which was a nice change from others who didn’t have a choice; and so I was Baptized, had my Communion, and Confirmation.. thinking that I would always be devout and in his embrace.
It was beyond God and Jesus, and I felt a very intimate deep connection with the Virgin Mary. She was who I felt deserved my devotion and my love, she who was all powerful in the womanly sense and I could relate to her. She who had overcome so much, and had been chosen. The little Lithuanian chapel in the middle of the City of Angels had the greatest priests and congregation on the planet to me. All understood what I felt about God.. and all wanted to move forward towards God on some level. (the only thing that irked me was that I couldn’t be an altar ‘boy’ because of my gender..

It was only after losing my Mother to cancer that I completely lost my faith. Why would He let this happen. I started doing research on other religions but never turned back to God.. and in hindsight, there was something more at work then my devotion to a Deity and a woman connected with Him. Instead there was some memory of some devotion ages ago the sparked these feelings of blissful prayer and belonging..


I am a priestess of the Goddess Isis… I worship and serve at her leisure on the island of Philae.. where many Gods and Goddess are worshipped in honor of the Mother of all… I spend my days and most nights in her stead. Dressed in linens and metals, my hair braided off my neck, my skin washed and scented with oils so I am desirable to the presence of the gods. I worship and serve in her behest, making sure all gods around her are worshipped by their devotees, but more importantly, that her name, and her wishes are met. Beautiful bowls of petals and fruits, and gifts for her altar, her precious fountains dazzling in the light with pure water, a
nd everything polished to perfection.
I was chosen for this. When I was a young girl the priests of the temple came to my family and asked for me. Young enough I accepted, wondering what my role would be. The rest is a blur of prayer and training and a world filled with the light of her grace. I am alive for her.. My entire being is in her blessing and honor and I loved her.. and her completely. I didn’t think of life beyond the temple, my only contemplation being what I could do to improve myself, to make myself less human and more in line with what the Goddess wanted from me. And home was Philae, the turquoise watery shores a cool site for my eyes, and the worshippers, free to worship who they please, a blessing and a joy to behold.

So I was quite surprised when we were overtaken by royal guards that night…. and besieged by their hatred and fear.. but that is another story. I broke free from them after hearing the onslaught from the inner bath house and took the secret stairway to the inner sanctum. There I prayed and asked for protection from her holiness. I heard the screams from the solid stone walls… and kneeled in supplication and in fear.. but knowing that whatever happens.. she is within me.. and she will hold me, and she willed this…

That was when I heard the door open….

(Written by SMB, inpired by EP)