Corporate Friends

Corporate Friends is the newest novella by Thadd Presley. Available for Kindle.

It’s not a story for the young ones. It shows the great length people will go for their love of money. Even friends will stab each other in the back for more.  Sexual perversion, evil, death, hatred, treachery, and greed follow the people who hold money above all else. “Corporate Friends” explores Friendship when it becomes the shield enemies use to hide behind.

https://www.amazon.com/Corporate-Friends-Thadd-Presley-ebook/dp/B07FXSXR88
Sexual perversion, torture, death, kidnapping, and the abuse of friendship is explored in this short novella. It is not intended for children.

When you purchase a copy of “Corporate Friends” you are supporting my dreams and the continuation of free short stories on Fiction Weekly. Thank you for your visit and for reading. Even if you don’t buy the book, I truly appreciate you for being here.

Still Alive

My dad told my mother that it was not the right time in his life; that everything was happening too fast and he wanted to wait a few more years. So, when she started crying, he knew he had her convinced. They went together.

The small office was in a house on South Laughter Street, right downtown next to the municipal swimming pool.

Outside. a few feet from the road was a sign, sticking out of the lawn like a cheap campaign slogan. Written in an old English font and beginning to fade in the sun.

“Cash only, discretion is our only priority.
S. Laughter Street Clinic.”

Mother cried when she read it.

Inside a man took them into a surgical theatre and asked my mother to relax and lay on the table.  My father didn’t want to stay in the room, but the doctor ordered him to.

“Murder is not easy, Mr. Frente.” He put on plastic gloves. “Your wife  will need you to take some of the blame once she realizes what she’s done. To stand at the morning mirror tomorrow, alone and before God, will not be like it was this morning. I hope you understand that.”

My mother started crying again.

“Why do you cry?” The doctor asked perplexed.

She said nothing, sobbing.

“Why is she crying?” He asked my father.

My father looked at my mother. “She doesn’t want to be a murderess.”

“Do you blame her?”

“No, but we can’t have a child now. We’re not ready. There’s too much at stake. My job, the money. There’s just to much to do before…”

The doctor nodded his head and went to his cabinet where he brought back a bible. Inside he had a page marked. “will you please read from the highlighted area before we begin?”

Pushing the bible away from him, he yelled. “What’s this?”

“Just read the last rights. At least you can do that much.”

“No. I will not. Now, you have the money. So, do your job, will you?”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand. sir. I’m not going to do it. I’m going to explain the instruments to you and you are going to do it. Anyone can do it once they are shown how.”

“What?” He couldn’t stand it anymore. “I paid you to do it. What do you think? I’m no doctor.”

“You don’t need a doctor. Doctors are for healing people. You need a clean room, clean instruments, and secret place to commit murder, which I have provided for you. You need me to stay quiet once you are finished killing this child and, since you have paid me very well to do so, I will. But I am not a murderer. No amount of money could persuade me to kill an innocent child.”

My mother was off the table and through the door before my father could reply. She did not return to the car, but instead called a taxi and only left the S. Laughter Street Clinic when it arrived.

She divorced my father and has never seen him again.

The first entry in my journal is this: my mother was convinced to have an abortion, but in the end it didn’t matter. I was still born.

 

Words We Don’t Know

Words We Don’t Know

The words come and go
But the soul knows
There’s so much more we could say

Love comes and goes
But our heart knows
there will be better days

Some friends come and go
But in the end
we know that real friends will stay

Life can often be slow
but, oh, time goes
and we always love again

We find we sometimes sow
words we don’t know
as our muse dances and sways

When toe to toe
with those holding our soul
we relive all the mistakes we ever made

Our work always grows
and often we’re shown
our best effort is still only clay

Love is Over-Rated

I said that Love is over-rated and I meant it. At least, the shallow, weak emotions society sees as Love .  And I’ll go even further and say most people don’t know what Love truly is.  I wonder: Do I even know?

Honestly, I don’t know if I know. That’s just the nature of not knowing. But, I know what Love is not and that gives me an idea of what Love feels like.

Love is not dependence.

“We need to help people to discover the true meaning of love. Love is generally confused with dependence. Those of us who have grown in true love know that we can love only in proportion to our capacity for independence.” — From The World According To Mister Rogers

Love is not something that goes away with time.

The more we love, the more we want to love and it begins with love for ourselves.

Love is infinite and all powerful.

Love can see beyond the facade people portray as themselves. It is a mirror that reflects the real you back perfectly and allows you to see the parts of yourself that is blocking your desires. Love does not lie to you and allow you to remain stagnant.

There is a literary device used in many stories to show a character’s growth throughout life and the many ways they change, but throughout the many obstacles and events, their dreams never change nor does their core essence. This device is called Bildungsroman. I think this is one word that can help describe one of Love’s attributes.

I believe societies Love is become the direct opposite of Bildungsroman because true Love would never turn you away from something you desire. It would never stand in your way or hold you back from reaching your goals.

Love pulls you forward. Whether it’s the Love of someone else or your own, it will direct you in a positive way. Love does not have a negative connotation. It draws you in.

 

It is not the thought that matters, but the action. Love perfects you, it does not tear you down. Love expands your horizons, it does not tie you down. Love is a fire that burns away the lies and stupidity and tempers the truth. Love wakes you up and shakes off the contentment and satisfaction you thought was good enough.

Many may say it, many may think it, many may want it, but few actually do it.

“You think because he doesn’t love you that you are worthless. You think that because he doesn’t want you anymore that he is right — that his judgement and opinion of you are correct. If he throws you out, then you are garbage. You think he belongs to you because you want to belong to him. Don’t. It’s a bad word, ‘belong.’ Especially when you put it with somebody you love. Love shouldn’t be like that. Did you ever see the way the clouds love a mountain? They circle all around it; sometimes you can’t even see the mountain for the clouds. But you know what? You go up top and what do you see? His head. The clouds never cover the head. His head pokes through, because the clouds let him; they don’t wrap him up. They let him keep his head up high, free, with nothing to hide him or bind him. You can’t own a human being. You can’t lose what you don’t own. Suppose you did own him. Could you really love somebody who was absolutely nobody without you? You really want somebody like that? Somebody who falls apart when you walk out the door? You don’t, do you? And neither does he. You’re turning over your whole life to him. Your whole life, girl. And if it means so little to you that you can just give it away, hand it to him, then why should it mean any more to him? He can’t value you more than you value yourself.” ―Toni Morrison

“I do not trust people who don’t love themselves and yet tell me, ‘I love you.’ There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.” ―Maya Angelou

“Letting go doesn’t mean that you don’t care about someone anymore. It’s just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself.” ―Deborah Reber

 

Creative People And their Muse

Breaking down poetic boundaries and looking inside

 

Have you ever met someone very interesting and wanted to get to know them?

If you have, and most of us have, you will better understand what it feels like for a writer to have a new idea. The ideas do not appear as words interacting with other words. The characters are people, who live in towns and cities, and have lives and hopes and dreams of their own. Connections are built between the characters that lead to dynamic interactions and have lasting consequences for the story.

While writing the story, feelings develop for the characters because the writer knows how they feel. It’s with these emotions, the ones that exist in the writer’s mind that create characters so real and interesting, that the reader becomes involved and develops emotional attachment.

Ideas sometimes grow into forbidden orchards and conversations sometimes bloom into beautiful gardens.

It might seem strange to you that a writer creates a killer who carries a knife with a short, dull blade because he likes to watch the light’s in his victims eyes flicker out right after they die. And how about the writer who talks about a character as if the person is really alive? It might seem strange when a writer models a victim or love interest after someone they know in real life. But, writing is a very strange thing indeed. It’s strange to have people talking in your head, strange to imagine murdering someone and how to get away with it. Writing is strange in a million ways.

Time and time again, creative people collect poison water from a shallow spring and carefully filter it until it is clear and sparkling.

Writers enjoy creating people and stories. It’s part of their lives. The Muse gives her stories and takes them away. Life is good when the Muse dances. Life is miserable when she hides herself away. It becomes like a drug. It’s their way of life. The Muse is an important part of any creative person’s mental and emotional support group.

 

So the next time the creative person in your life is talking about their story as if it is real or you recognize features of a character in the checkout line at the neighborhood grocery store, just be happy that the creative person is being creative.

Marriage, the Wrong Way

Marriage is not a Mystery

it just takes more effort than most can afford

 

Why do people marry the wrong person? I think it’s because they marry too fast. People have a tendency to change over time which could cause a couple to grow apart. It’s important to date for a good long while and get to know them really well before you think you want to spend your whole life with them.

There will be tons of details about your unhappy marriage and what it’s like to be stuck in one. But, not much in the way of explaining how to avoid one.

I believe most unhappy marriages can be avoided by spending a lot of time with the person you want to marry. It takes time to really know someone and it takes time for them to know the real you. But, you know what takes even longer? Growing old with someone you don’t want to be around.

Could you imagine trying to make a life with someone who doesn’t value the things you value or with someone who doesn’t “get” your ideas or understand the things you want for the future? A nightmare with the devil narrating your slow minute by minute life, while you are conscious of what you passed up by not doing the right thing and making yourself happy, and this continues until you die.

Or does it?

Five Minutes Will Change Everything

It was hell on Earth and many didn’t make it out alive. Yet, hope prevailed and those who survived mark it as a defining time in their life. Because many don’t have such moments to look back on, they don’t consider the amazing blessings they have before them; and so, things such as depression and anxiety grip the masses and keep them from enjoying life, erasing the possibilities of their pursuit and replace it with loneliness and fear.

Drugs help and counseling has it’s place, but nothing is as affective as living everyday to it’s fullest degree. Good days and bad days, even hell on Earth, manipulate the equation of life and change the outcome of each and every moment; so much so, that the memory of a once hellish moment factors into the present and changes what one feels about then and now.

If you are depressed, if you are lonely, if you are anxious go outside. I urge you to take a step in a new direction. Just for five minutes do the thing that you so badly want to try, do the thing you think you can’t, press yourself to reach farther than you did yesterday, and for those five minutes you will be a super human because you are doing what you thought was impossible. Sp, you truly became a Super You.

No matter the life, no matter the station, no matter the family you were born into, you can be the person you want to be. Whether you want to be an artist, a musician, a writer, or maybe you’ve been dreading the crowd at the local store, you can do it. All of it.

You are capable of amazing things because you are an amazing person. You are a unique person and all your dreams are  front and center, waiting for you to believe in yourself enough to claim them. The only thing that stopped you from being the person you’ve always wanted to be is the fact that you’ve not thought it possible. Something, or possibly someone, made you believe that you weren’t worthy of the dreams you have, that whether or not you will achieved your goals depended on someone else. Well, you are worthy and whether or not you reach your dreams depends on you.

Five minutes, right now, will change your life forever. Write that story, draw that picture, play that song, face that crowd, become that person you want to be.  Being a Super You will get easier five minutes at a time.

Criminals Run Everything

Nothing is going to change until we admit the undeniable and simple truth that Everything is run by criminals.
If you need proof, just look at the world around you. Illegal activity is the easiest and best way to make money. The world is run by criminals, governments are run by criminals, corporations are run by criminals, and the institution set up by them are run by criminals. It’s obvious to everyone, but no one admits it.

We want things to change, but we enjoy the short lived benefits of the criminal system. It’s convenient to just blend in, to not know phone numbers, to not know how to write an essay, to not know how to earn a living, to wait on one of the handouts from the government, to be broke 80% of the time, to not know how to save money, to live handout to hand out.

That’s the way these criminals want it to be. When you get arrested, they don’t want you to know a phone number; when they cut off your check, they want you to be broke; when they cut off your pills, they want you to be in pain; when they turn off your electric, they want you to be cold and hungry; when they turn their backs on you, they want you to be alone.

Well, it’s completely up to you. It’s always been up to you. Your life is exactly the way you always wanted it to be and you know it is. It’s time to face the undeniable and simple truth and stop relying on a criminal system to pay our bills and feed us.

 

Automatic Writing, Channeling, or Dowsing Fiction

Dowsing Fiction: Part 1
“Getting in Touch with Yourself”

by thadd presley

 

There are many ways to get into the flow of writing. But, lately the usual hasn’t been working for me. Things like music, background noises, even sounds from the forest right outside my house have been distracting enough to interrupt my train of thought. And if you are a writer or happen to live with a writer, possibly even if you know a writer, you know all there is to know about not breaking their focus. It’s brutal for you and them. Trust me, a writer’s frustration towards anyone who interrupts them is worse than the painters, musicians, and maniacs put together. But, through this dark mass of frustration, I have found a new device I’m willing to try. One which I would like to share with you.

It’s a method called automatic writing, but you must be warned that some believe it to be dangerous. Their fear is somewhat justified by numerous accounts throughout history. The danger, they say, comes from the idea that automatic writing is a form of spirit possession. The same way a medium channels the dead, an automatic writer is allowing someone besides themselves to control their body. By doing so they are opening a doorway, much like an Ouija board, which could create a connection with something other than intended.

My own belief about the dangers of automatic writing is this: Thereis always a chance of being influenced by a spirit, or the entire spirit world, just as we are being influenced by demons or helped by angels every moment of everyday of our life. I believe completely in the invisible world. So, my warning, is to become smarter everyday by researching things before you attempt them.

We know many of many instances, places, things, and even people that open us up to the influences from the spirit world, so it’s nothing we haven’t experienced before. We’ve all been to church, temple, or mosque and felt a higher force guiding us, and we’ve all heard a song and been transported to another time and place by the music, we all been in a group and heard a convincing speaker, or read something that made us emotional, and we’ve all been subjected to ideas and thoughts not our own. Automatic writing is no different. However, a little caution and a little research goes a long way on the first day of any project.

On this first day, anyone wanting to attempt automatic writing should not focus on the writing coming from anywhere but inside of themselves. Trying to understand the story inside of yourself should be the point of this exercise. To divine your own purpose, your own story, and access your higher self, or your subconscious mind as as some might put it, will unlock a treasure of knowledge that has been suppressed throughout your life.

The step by step guide on how to begin automatic writing will be in the next part.  For now, I urge anyone interested in this method to research meditation and choose a style to practice. Also read about an Egyptian named Thoth and allow the knew knowledge to guide you.

 

 

 

Black Sleep

“The Black Sleep”
by: Thadd Presley

I can only tell this once and would like to keep silent on this account completely; except for the children that might follow my direction and possibly choose a path such as I’ve taken, I would indeed find a way to keep my life’s decisions a secret and work towards erasing all record of myself from the Earth which would turn all the prying eyes from my business forever and a happy man it would make me; to see the end of this thing called fame, I would do all this, you see; except I know it’s impossible to put the smoke back into the pipe, after it’s been enjoyed, and I grow more and more saddened by this knowledge and will forever more be saddened by every young one who looks at my life as something to be desired and at myself as a role model to be followed.

Obviously, not realizing, or perhaps pretending they don’t see, that I rose to these delirious heights and achieved these glamorous proportions by turning against my upbringing and throwing aside the wise words of my faithful fathers and goodly mothers and by disgracing this very special being I was born into; and, believe me, it is with a heavy heart, for I would like to not face this, nor do I want to make mention of it at all, but if I’m ever to have any sense of humanity again, I must admit that by attaining greatness in the sight of others, I forfeited the invisible part of myself, which is the part we all know matters most, and I am afraid of what awaits me on the other side of this life; that is, if there’s anything at all, I wish, with all my being, that I could trade back all that I have for the single thing I once thought didn’t exist.

Death is what I most need it to be; a black sleep, a darker, much deeper sleep than the thin nights I wake from and fall back to each eve. It will be relaxing and filled with sweet dreams if I know the truth and hold it high for all to see. However, the fantasy of life quickly recedes in the light of this truth and the very moment I try to imagine anything more than the blackness my Death needs to be, a cold sweat dowses my brow and the velvet blackness begins to pulsate until a slight crack splits the horizon just enough for my eyes to squint closer and closer until they adjust to the ever so dimness of light that reflect the waves slowly moving below in the inky, limitless sea of pitch.

In the slightly-pulsating lighted horizon line, I see dashes of swooping red devils, all differing sizes, gleefully thrusting pitchforks into men and women. These tortured people cry silently and ball their fists into their eyes and mouths, some pull at their hair and claw the skin from their faces. Each trying someway to ignore the pain brought on by their decisions and actions before falling to the Black Sleep.

I see many small devils attack a thin, pale, naked man and lift him into the air under the power of their muscled wings. A scream fills my head, but his mouth doesn’t move. Alongside a background of sucking and smacking waves, which is how that sea of hot tar sounds to my human ears, I hear a dark chorus of cellos and violins, and a hundred different voices calling out to the souls who still live in the Universe of Free-Will. Joined in a deafening choir, each voice pleads in it’s own words, for those who still have the strength and can, to turn from wickedness and accept the truth by faith alone.

These voices, crying together as a choir pray, and lament, and scream in torment; and for a moment I wonder, perhaps I even ask aloud: Am I the only one who hears them? Am I the only one who knows the truth of this Darkness crawling under a black sky? And, if I am, who will believe me?

Sadness, as I’ve never known it, fills me and I want so much not to be a liar, and a thief, and a braggart, and a lover of Earthly desires; only, so people might believe me when I tell them that the fame and fortune I have attained, nor the great wealth and perfect health I enjoy, compares to the eternal spirit I place in peril with every action and thought, and that beyond the thin veil that separates life from The Black Sleep, Time does not exist.

I know, in that moment; that, everything worth knowing was a single, simple truth, that forgetting everything I’d learned before made me a genius, and a legend, and immortal, and rich, and healthy, and capable of super-human feats yet seen by mankind.

I know when I wake from the sleep, I will give it all away and walk with the lost, be with the homeless, eat with the hungry, drink with the thirsty, and live with the dying. I will do this because the dreams of my Black Sleep depend on it.

A will bring this great message to the world:

Do not feed the hungry, eat with them.
Do not house the homeless, live with them.
Do not give water to the thirsty, drink with them.

I realize everything now.

As soon as the choir stops screaming and lamenting, and praying; when the cellos and violins quiet, and the black, crawling sea of tar stops sucking and churning below; as soon as my eyes adjust to the dim light on the horizon and I wake up from this Black Sleep, I will change my life.