Tag Archives: writing

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.

 

 

 

SCP Foundation

If you’re ever looking for a new idea to write about or just something to read about that will lead you deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of creativity and what-ifs in our universe,  I urge you to look into the SCP files on the link below.

Secure, Contain, Protect

Here you will find creatures, objects, and people along with their back stories that will either excite your own creativity or scare you senseless.

I’ve often wondered if some of the articles on the site are fake, I mean … real…  And I find myself thinking of them at night when the lights are off.  Take a look for yourself.  It will change the way you think of our world, of your stories, and the way fictional universes begin.  And possibly explain how the universe we live in began.

 

 

New Album 2018

I recorded a blues album for 2016, then an experimental album for 2017, and now I’ve got an idea for the 2018 album. This will be the best album I’ve ever made. I will not hold back. It will get The full treatment and, if the recording artists get behind the idea, we’ll do a Tennessee Theatre show. One night.

More is in the works for the recording schedule. All new music, all new ideas, can’t wait for 2018.

A year from now, I want to look back and know that Dreams are exceptionally hard to achieve for a reason. There will be things and people that pop up to block the flow of your energy. But, it’s only a test. They are not permanent road blocks. They are only side street distractions.

Remember that these distractions will pop up from our old lives to misdirect our resources and energy, but we must think back to why they became a part of the old life in the first place.

They are the Lazy, thoughtless, part timers, who speak without thinking, eat the crap people feed them, sleep where other people tell them, and simply go with the flow.

But, we are not!!

They will always be on the sideline of your life needing asking for a helping hand, giving a shallow compliment, and trying to make some dead memory live again.

Remember, remember, the 4th of November.

OK. Here are the names I’ve been working on… but first, I think I want a pseudonym because I’m in  a place I can start over and do things a bit differently. So, these are anagrams of my name. Check them out.  They are the best of the lot and the ones I like most in bold.

Thadd Presley

Shred Adeptly
Add Thy Lepers — possible album name for 2019
Addle The Spry — my fav
He Lept Dryads
Ethyls Red Pad
Shady Red Pelt
Ed Held Pastry
As Thy Peddler — album name 2020


James Thadd Presley — album names

Helpers Add Majesty
Redhead Amply Jests
Slapdash Jet Remedy
Medley’s Depths Ajar
Jaded Harmless Types
Shapely Jaded Terms — my fav album name
Empty Jaded Slasher
Jaded Pastel Rhymes
Them Deadly Jaspers

I think these will all become album names eventually.

 

Wish me Luck!!!!

Don’t Plan For Worst Case Scenarios

“Worst Case Scenarios and Why You Should Never Plan For Them”

 

Someone just told me they plan for the worst case scenario, just in case it happens. I believe they think they are doing the right thing by planning for the worst outcome, but I say: planning for the worst outcome is the absolute worst thing anyone could ever do to their future.

Here is why:

Exactly where do you think the future comes from? Do you think it will be an accident when it gets here? Do you think it’s planned out before hand, as if we are on a roller coaster ride with no control of how it’s going to turn out? Do you think there is force in the universe that takes our desires and weighs it against what we deserve and decides what we should get one way or another?

I’ve heard it said in many different ways, but it always comes down to the same principal. When we think about the worst thing that could happen to us, we are creating the possibility for that exact outcome. And our thoughts affect our future and, not only that, they affect the futures of those around us. For example, in one case alone, our thoughts affects the outcome of our desires and our dreams and the very things that we spent my time and energy to create, but there’s more than just us depending on the outcome of our future. Family, co-workers, friends, teammates, lovers, and everyone else who wants to see you be a happy and successful person.

Instead of thinking of the worst that could happen to us, we should spend our valuable time in a much wiser way: such as, thinking about all the great things that are going to happen because we achieved the goal we had in mind. Again I point out: We think of the good things that will happen because we succeeded and even out-did our wildest expectations.

Our thoughts are not on winning or losing. They’re about the wonderful things that will happen because we won the day. Will we become rich or famous or travel the world or a combination or all three at once.

But, I can hear you say: I think of all that stuff, too. I’m just planning on the worst in case scenario just in case something happens.

Well, like what? What might happen?
And I warn you to be careful because you’re thoughts have unmeasurable, an possibly unlimited power. So, only do this if you are sure your thoughts do not affect the future and, even then, only do it for a second. But, what type of plan do you have and for what worst outcome are you preparing? How many “worst happenings” do you plan for? Does it go as far as death and do you have your life insurance paid up?

Well, that’s exactly what I mean.
So, let’s face the facts. You either believe that we can create our version of reality and get to experience the things we want or you don’t. You believe that we are either in control of our life or we’re not. You believe that God either wants you to be a prosperous person overflowing with all your desires or he doesn’t.

You either believe that our thoughts have some power beyond the pictures and sounds they make in our head or you don’t. You either believe we are an important part of the universe or we are just something in the universe?

So which is it? Are we a part of it or are we just something in it?

I want you to know that your thoughts do affect the universe because they are part of the universe, and not just some part of the universe, you are an important part, a creating part, a thinking part, a deciding part. You are alive and your thoughts are alive. Act like it. You are not a victim of what happens to you, you are a creator of what happens to you and to the universe.

Poetry: MESSIAH

 

M.E.S.S.I.A.H.

by Thadd Presley

Miracles mirror the Maker’s material
Even established events of entertainment are ethereal
So that such a show of Self, so shamelessly spiritual,
Should somehow shatter the signal of the subliminal
Image of the Immaculate Individual
And allow an Appreciation of anything abysmal
However Hellbound the Heretic’s Hypocritical Hymnal

Reverse Image (part 3)

Reverse Image
part 3
by Thadd Presley

What Delilah saw at that moment frightened her. The top half of her mother’s face changed. First, her pupils dilated, but not together. Each one on its own grew to the maximum size and then shrunk back down again. Her nose flared much like a horse’s would in the spring. Delilah stood and stepped away from the table. Her mother had become someone else.

She didn’t know why this was happening, but she thought it might be a stroke. Her mother was still young. Thirty-eight was young for anyone to die.

Clare saw a color of red that she never knew existed. It filled her vision and then doubled over on itself. She saw the walls of her world deepen and drown in the color. It was the color of murder, of hatred and sex and violence. God didn’t create this color to be seen and talked about. I was the last color anyone was ever to see. She knew deep in her heart that she was dying and it was a good thing.

“Mom. God.” Delilah screamed and ran to the breakfast counter where her cell phone laid. “911,” she screamed. “911.”
A woman had answered the emergency line before Clare knew what to say. “What’s your emergency?”

“My mom. My..she’s having a heart attack.”

“OK. Calm down. What’s your address.”

Delilah took a deep breath and answered all the questions.

Finally, there were sirens in the air.

The siren grew louder and closer. Too close for them to be for anyone but herself.

Clare opened her eyes. Red still covered everything and she still certain she would die. No one saw that and lived, she kept telling herself. No one could see that and live.

“Mom. Mom.”

The voice of her daughter was there in the red somewhere and that was somehow the worst part of it all. Why did she have to be involved?

The sirens stopped and doors slammed. The red was growing. It was outside now. Even the sky would be covered in red.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

No, Clare thought. If I hear you then the red will get you.

“Look at her eyes, Cap. What do you think happened?”

“Looks to be a serious case of subconjunctival hemorrhage.”

Delilah screamed. The next thing she saw was the kitchen floor.

“She’s coming around, Cap. You alright sweetheart?”

“My mom. She had a hemorrhage. Her brain.”

The paramedic sat down beside her and smiled. “Let’s sit up.” He helped her. “There now. Your mom is fine. It was scary for her and for you, but that’s all. Nothing serious.”

“What happened?”

“Well, we don’t know why but she became extremely stressed and it busted a blood vessel in her eye. Both of them actually. She’s going to the hospital.”

“She’s OK?”

“Yes. Very OK.”

“I want to go with her.”

“That’s fine. You want to go ahead and stand up?”

Together, they managed to walk to the ambulance.

A moment of panic shot through Delilah’s chest when she saw her mother’s eyes. They were both filled with blood. Her mother looked like a zombie. Quickly, she snapped a picture and smiled.

“I got your good side that time.”

“You’re not funny. I don’t know how you can laugh at me. After what you’ve done. Being pregnant is hard enough on a family, but…”

“Pregnant? Mom!” For a moment, Delilah didn’t think she heard her right. “Mom, I’m not pregnant. Who told you that?”
“Don’t lie to me. You already…”

“I’m not pregnant. You must have hit your head or something when you fell.” She looked at the paramedic who wishing he was invisible. “I’m not, I swear.”

Clare was visibly upset.

“We can settle this once we get to the hospital,” he told them. “There is a planned parenthood clinic there that offers free pregnancy tests. You can go from there. How’s that?”

“O.K.” Delilah quickly assented.

Clare didn’t say anything but nodded her head.

“Let’s get this rig on the road, Cap!”

Slowly, the ambulance made it’s way onto the street and ten minutes later they pulled in at Methodist Medical Center.
An hour later, mother and daughter sat together in the E.R. A negative pregnancy test sat in a paper cup, wrapped in a paper towel.

“But, I don’t understand why you thought I was pregnant in the first place?”

“You said you found out something this morning and I thought you meant…”

“Mom, jeez. I learned something from Youtube that’s all. Really, I should have realized it a long time ago.” She smiled. Her mother’s blood red eyes looked back at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I love you, mom. Thank you for worrying about me.”

“Well, child, that my job. It’s not this hard most of the time. What can I say? You’re a good kid.”

Ryan was escorted into the room by a nurse who was telling him that everything was going to be fine. “Clare is in no danger,” she said. “She just had a scare and fainted.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s been one heck of a morning for all of us.”

Reverse Image (part 2)

Reverse Image

part 2

by Thadd Presley

 

When Lucas entered the room, the quiet atmosphere stopped him in his tracks before he could say anything. There was a furrow on his dad’s brow he’d not seen before and his mother’s face spelled out volumes of unspoken emotion. He hoped they weren’t talking about his spring semester grades. He brought them up at the end.

Dad spoke up first. “Would you mind explaining exactly what you’re talking about? Your mother and I don’t have all morning to play guessing games. This afternoon we can hash out all the details and decide what we will do.”

“Ryan Butress.” Mother sounded extra-weird to Lucas and for the first time that morning he and his sister looked each other in the eyes. “I’ll not hear more of that. I have all the time she needs and so do you. She will tell us what she wants, when she wants. And we will not decide what she does, she decides what she does. Understand?” When her husband didn’t answer right away, Clare started crying.

Delilah stood in the gaze of three stone serious faces and she didn’t know what to say. Lucas broke the silence before it became hysteria.

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s because I’m not wearing makeup.”

Dad looked up from his bowl of cereal. “Sweetie, I’m not mad and neither is your mother. We just want you to be alright.”

“Well, I’m fine,” Delilah answered. “I just want to think about how I’m going to tell you what I found out. It’s been staring me in the face for so long and for me to just realize it. I mean, it’s stupid that I didn’t see it before. Why didn’t one of you tell me? Did you not know?”

“How could we know?” Her mother asked. “I don’t sleep in your bed, I don’t go out with you when you stay over at Angela’s house.”

“Is that what happened?” Her dad asked.

“That’s not important.” Her mother answered. “What’s important is what happens now.”

“O.K. Fine.” He stood from the table. His left hand shook and that was a bad sign. It meant he was really pissed. Delilah didn’t understand why her mom was so angry. “I’m going to work before I get in over my head and say something I’ll regret. I love you all and I’ll be home by four if anyone wants to fill me in then.”

As soon as the Mercedes backed out of the driveway, Lucas took this chance to jump ship. “I’m going to the gym and then job hunting. Bye.”

His mother crossed the kitchen and hugged him. Then, she turned and took an apple from the basket. “Eat this on your way. You’ll need energy to workout.”

“Thanks, mom.”

After the kitchen cleared of the menfolk, the women of the house stood quietly. They stood at the sink and watched Lucas jog down the sidewalk until he was out of view, then they looked at each other.

“Why are you looking at me that way, mom? God, why is everyone is so weird this morning.”

“I’m just worried about you. We are worried. Your dad and I.”

“Mom. It’s not a big deal. Here, listen. I’ll try to explain.”

“No. I want you to listen. That’s all I want you to do right now.” She pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit down so we can talk.”

“Mom!!”

“Don’t you yell at me.” She said it quietly, but it was a command that Delilah knew to obey. She sat and waited for her mother to speak. “Now I only have one question and I want the truth. Who’s the father?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question. Who’s the…”

“I don’t know. Dad, I guess. Who else?”

The words her daughter spoke didn’t make sense to her. They had meant something, but they quickly turned into something else before they reached her ears. Something like red worms burrowing through the dirt. Worms that ate the all the bad words once they left the mouth and spoiled in the open air.

Reverse Image

Delilah looked at her face reflecting in the bathroom mirror. She had just learned on Youtube that the image she saw reflecting back at her was not the same as it appeared to people on the street. The reflection was a mirror image. Exactly opposite of what everyone else saw.

She wished she could see what other saw, how she looked from the vantage point of others. How had she gone so long applying make-up backward to her face, primping and teasing her hair backward, smiling approvingly at a look that was completely opposite of what she had always thought it was?

There’s no wonder why she never turned any heads throughout middle school and during freshman year. But, now things were going to be different. Delilah was certain to see what everyone else was seeing.

“Dee, hurry.”

It was her older brother, Lucas, standing outside the bathroom door, probably doing the pee dance.

“Dee, please.”

“Go downstairs. Use dad’s.”

“He’s asleep. He’ll go ballistic if …”

The bathroom door flew open. “Fine. Whatever. Just stop talking to me.”

Lucas stared in disbelief. “What have you been doing all this time? I’ve been waiting patiently, gritting my teeth, because I know …”

“You don’t know anything, Luke. Just like always.”

He pushed past her and closed the door, not sure what he said wrong; without time to think, he could figure it out later if she was in a better mood.

Downstairs, Delilah’s mother, who everyone in the world called Clare, greeted her daughter with all smiles. “You’re gorgeous, do you know that?”

“Mom.” She glanced at Ryan, her dad. “Morning, dad.”

“You’re mom’s right, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m not wearing makeup.”

“And I think that’s a good thing because makeup should be saved for special occasions.” Clare continued while buttering toast. “It shouldn’t be for everyday use. It’s really not good for your face over years and years of use.”

“Yep. Clogs your pores.”

“Well, that’s not why I’m not wearing it. It’s more complicated than that. I just found out something huge. It changes everything. Last night actually.”

“Like what?” Mom questioned.

“I don‘t know. Well, I don‘t know. I’m not really sure how to tell you. It’s hard to explain.”

“Whatever it is we we’ll understand.”

“Well, I should have realized it before because we were talking about it before school was out. At least last month ago or two at the most. I should have known.”

This brought the attention of both parents.

Continue on Part 2

Allowing the Gratitude

The difference between receiving a pencil or a million dollars is simply this: you don’t think it’s possible that you’ll get a million dollars, but a pencil is different. Everyone has pencils. You could have one of those easy, right? You can picture yourself with a pencil. You know what you could do with a pencil. You can imagine how it would feel between your fingers. Is it shiny or dull? Metal, wood, or plastic?

Now think of a million dollars. What would you do with it? How does having it make you feel? Can you imagine holding the bills in your hand? Can you imagine the vacation you would take and who you would take along? Do you know what type of house you would buy and who would live in it with you?

How would having a million dollars make you feel?

Don’t worry about from where it’ll come or who’ll bring it!!

Forget the money altogether. Focus on the emotions of taking the vacation, of moving into your new home, of holding the house warming party. How would that make you feel? Thankful? Full of Gratitude? Appreciative? Try to Focus on that feeling.

That feeling and the thoughts that give it is the key to everything. You must try and hold that feeling feeling for twenty seconds. If a negative thought breaks in, start over. Don’t allow your thoughts to wander.

A million dollars is hard to imagine, so begin with things relative to your life. The things you need and want. We have mental blocks that we think are true and they make us doubt ourselves, which is why I began this with a pencil. I want you to begin with something comfortable, something you need. It becomes easier and easier. If you do this everyday you will be able to manifest the things you need seemingly by magic.

Don’t doubt your abilities, try it.

20 seconds.

______________

I’m happy in my life as a creator.
You can be too.

 

Shallow Grave (part 8)

Shallow Grave

Part 8

Thadd Presley

I never had to sign my name in blood to hear the voices. The voices have always been in my head, loud and clear, before the man came. While in my early teens, I listened to what they told me while dreaming of the day I would publish their lives in my stories.

I never thought I would publish a book every year? I didn’t know the public would enjoy the stories as much as they do. It never occurred to me that I had a future doing what I loved. I didn’t believe in myself, which is why I took the deal – if that’s what it was. I swear to you I didn’t realize at the time.

The voices didn’t care one way or the other. They were part of my life and I accepted them for what they were: a universe of characters swirling in my head, living out their lives for me to document. After the man talked with me, the voices became louder over the years, and now they grow more commanding everyday.

It seems lately that I don’t have a moment of quiet.

Usually, the voices took their turn. I wrote their stories and, once I had their voices on the page, they would quieten down again. Some had overlapping stories, since many of them lived in the same area, practically the same town. But, lately — and especially on nights like tonight — no amount of writing, no matter how much I wrote, could quiet the voices. They grew louder and louder. Underneath I heard a deeper fear than usual.


I began writing early this evening, my regular time, because I wanted to finish a story contracted through a horror magazine that my publisher told me would really pay off in the long run. I needed to get it written so that I could write my column for the local newspaper. But, it never became possible. I have been constantly interrupted by a small female voice. Mingled within her lightly spoken words has a loud cracking voice of an elderly man. They have kept up a running dialog in my head all evening and after just a few hours, they had taken over my head completely. I heard nothing but what was happening in their world.

Lydia, don’t you love me?” the old man asked again, possibly for the twentieth time. He spoke with a cracked voice between labored breaths. I clearly saw the bedroom and hospital bed. An oxygen hose hung loosely below his nose. A crown of billowing white hair ringed his head.

Yes, I do Papaw, very much. Now, please, you should sleep. It’s coming up on three in the morning.”

Yes, I thought, please go to sleep. Please, leave her alone and let me get back to my story.

But, Lydia dear, I can’t sleep, darling. Not while he’s here. He’ll take me away if I do. I know he will.”

She stood at the bedroom door looking in on her grandfather. Her face looked pale because of the wet, black mascara trails streaming from her eyes. “There is no one here except us.” She spoke, trying to calm him. She was worried about him not sleeping, because she’d seen this delusion worsen without proper rest.