Magicians realm, p.2

Magician's Realm, page 2


Magician's Realm

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  As Kelvin walks on a pathway through the manicured landscape at his school, Saches soon joins in and walks alongside of him.

  “I prayed for you last night,” Saches says.

  Kelvin doesn’t even look over, “I prayed for me too.”

  Later, in the school bathroom, Kelvin is approached by the happy, go lucky Mr. Sanders.

  “Why, Mr. Hobbs, if you ever get tired of the shipping business, just let it catch my ear and I’ll give you a good price for that lemonade stand you’re running. I may even let you keep a plane.” A hideous chuckle pauses his banter. “See, with an online business, you don’t have to worry about all that stuff, paying pilots, runway fees. Just some good ol’ fashioned invoices that are now electronically sent.” He takes a moment to chuckle high-mindedly. Kelvin begins to leave. “Hey, look out, there might be a hurricane tomorrow.”

  Kelvin pauses, then returns, and speaks in a serious tone, “Mr. Sanders, the Bible says pride goes before a fall.”

  “The what?” beginning to laugh in a mocking tone.

  Kelvin looks at him, then turns and walks away but is halted by...

  Click, click.

  Kelvin stops and looks up eerily.

  “This just in, the President raised taxes on jet fuel. Prefix Shipping, your operating costs just rose 2.3 percent.”

  Kelvin bites the bullet and keeps walking. Behind him, Mr. Sanders indulges himself with jeers and taunts. Kelvin exits the bathroom, head slightly bowed, enduring the hit.


  Sitting by himself on the school grounds, he remembers a night when he was pacing back and forth on the basketball floor. “Okay God, I’m dying here. I really need your help. I am being tormented every second of every day. You cannot leave me like this. You said I wouldn’t have more than I can handle. You said that. That’s what you said. And right now, with me not being able to handle this, it sounds like you’re really, really optimistic. What do you want me to do? This has become a part of me.” He collapses to his knees distraught. His mind returns back to where he is, at school grounds and slowly and with distinguishably rises back to his seat. His eyes close in pain.


  Kelvin sits in class, but falling asleep. A preoccupation weighs on his mind but somehow manages to catch something the professor teaches.

  “Competition is a healthy thing but it could be the end of your business. Many times, in business practices, you’ll find parallels with military type operations of sort. The acquiring of information especially, information the other side deems private.”

  Kelvin perks up, “Whoa,” he whispers astoundingly. Batting his eyes a few times, he has gained some leverage in his own present battle. His breathing intensifies, “Information.” He looks around wondering if anyone else heard that.

  “Let me get back to what I was saying, uhm, I remember now, in preparation for your I.P.O. disbursements, you must have such equal revenue or at least available in various reservoirs…” Kelvin looks away to ponder.

  Pacing at the basketball court, the one on his own property as that wasn’t mentioned before, he mutters as he walks about, “Information, how do I get that? Where can I find that?” His pacing continues, his thinking continues. His pressing forward continues.

  Walking through the courtyard, head bowed in deep thought…

  Click, click.

  “This just in, the F.A.A. has just endorsed the raising of runway fees for all major airports. Prefix Shipping, your operating costs have been raised 1.2 percent.”

  But this does not even faze Kelvin. The bulletin goes on to say, “Diamond Shapers, this is a point four seven percent increase in inventory stock shipping costs. Net Star, our online business in the race, no increase in operational costs.” Kelvin passes Mr. Spiffs and only eyes him as he keeps walking.

  Click, click.

  The class pauses to hear the latest report, “This just in, the Dow closed high, other markets closed high. The market is high gentlemen.” Kelvin looks away to think.

  On the school grounds, Kelvin has written on a notepad. ‘Who has my answers? Pastor’ He checks it off, “He doesn’t know,” he mumbles with a grimace. ‘Therapist’ He checks them off too, “Nope, I can do my own studying, thank you.” ‘Recovery Groups’ “Don’t want to go around this mountain forty years.” ‘Psychiatrists’ “Hmmm … No chemical answers please.” He studies the list and wonders, “Who’s left?”

  He looks around. “There’s a source missing.” He concentrates, “With God, there is no box.” He closes his eyes trying to see, then abruptly opens them finding nothing. “Argh!” then he walks off angrily.

  Late night, he paces as if worried and perplexed, then he happens to go into his bathroom to wash his face. He lifts his head and sees a paper with a picture of an old car with two boxes underneath. ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ He dries his hands, takes the picture off the mirror, and grins. “A hope.”


  A car rolls nicely down the winding road. The scenery is nice, green, and deep. The constantly opening roads provide ample input for thinking.

  Inside, Kelvin looks around at the interior of this rust heap, amazed the way they used to make cars, meanwhile his father is proud at the wheel.

  Then his eyes notice the radio. He’s seen cassette players in cars before, but the tape this car radio supposedly takes is as big as a book. Swinging the little garage door open on the deck, he wonders.

  “That’s for an 8-track tape.”

  Kelvin looks up at him, “A what?”

  “Use that Internet of yours and find some for me.” He laughs.

  “We could replace it with-“

  Suddenly, a pop is heard, then a flapping around of the back of the car, finishing with a wobbling. The car pulls over and Kelvin sticks his head out the window and looks. “Dad, we’re down one wheel.”

  They get out to look at it. Kelvin wears bright white sneakers as if he just walked out of a shoe store, the rest of his ensemble, casual. Uncertain, he looks up to his father, “What do we do now?”

  Oreleander appears idea-less. He looks around not having the slightest idea what to do. He figures he should call somebody, but whom? Unknowingly, behind him a pickup is slowly rolling up on them and pulling over. The driver gets out, seeing if he could assist, smiling at them and looking at the tire, “Looks like they haven’t perfected those things yet, huh?” He laughs.

  “Uhm, no, evidently. Do you know where I can...uh, have this one fixed?”

  The pickup driver looks at him, “It’s just a flat tire.”

  “Yes,” Oreleander smiles.

  “Fix it right here.” Oreleander looks at him confused. “Pop your trunk.”

  “Well, it’s just, I was headed somewhere and I didn’t want to be late.”

  The pickup driver looks at him strange. Kelvin watches the dialogue back and forth.

  “Just open your trunk.”

  Oreleander finally understands, runs and gets the keys, returning to open the trunk.

  The driver looks in, “You have everything you need to get going right here, already in your car.”

  Kelvin snickers, amused at the whole situation.

  “Yes, we’ll, I’m already a bit late.” Oreleander continues his argument.

  “We all have to get somewhere, Guy. Give me five minutes, I’ll have you on your way in no time.”

  “Of course, uh, are you sure?”

  The man looks at Oreleander figuring out he has no clue what he’s talking about, then just begins to take out the jack and gets to work.

  Tire is replaced; both are amazed at the man as they glance down at this new wheel. Normally, they’ve only seen when another car would arrive if something happened to their present car.

  The nice man waves bye and heads for the truck. Both are still amazed at the spare tire.

  Kelvin’s astonished, “Who would have thought there was another tire, just like what we needed right in our own trunk." He shakes
his head amazed, then catches the guy already in his truck, then looks at his father. “Dad, Dad?” motioning to the man.

  His father looks up, sees Kelvin motioning towards the man, “Oh!” He quickly runs up to the man, slacks blowing in the wind. “Uhm, Sir, let me take care of your time and energy.”

  “Won’t have it.”

  “Sir, please,” he takes out a bill, “a hundred, will that suffice?”

  “Naw,” he waves it off, starting his truck.

  “You’re right, two hundred?” holding out the crisp bills to the man. Seeing no change in the man, he takes out a third hundred and holds it out, his expression wishes the man will take it.

  The man only looks at him, “How about nothing.” Oreleander doesn’t understand and stands back. “Just have a nice day with your son.”

  Oreleander protests, “I can’t let you leave like this.”

  The man laughs, puts it in gear and drives off. Oreleander is left standing there watching the truck leave. The three hundreds flickering at his side.

  Kelvin cracks up, “He didn’t want your money?” Oreleander shakes his head as he’s never seen the like.

  They’re driving again. Kelvin looks over to his father in amazement. “How do you not know how to change a tire? Aren’t you supposed to know all this really smart stuff?”

  Oreleander sits uneasy; he was brought to a vulnerable point in his life. Everyone has one; his was not being able to change a tire.

  “Well, Son,” he feels he must clear his throat, “it’s the time I could afford a car, uh-hem, I could afford twenty, and they all came with drivers.”

  Kelvin listens to the excuse, nods, then leans in and asks, “You do know how to drive stick shift, right? Even I know those kinds of cars exists.” He holds in a chuckle.

  Oreleander eyes him.


  The old tank of a car pulls up to a cabin looking building, Oreleander a touch embarrassed for being late hopes they can enter unnoticed. They quickly park and make their way inside.

  Entering, they are greeted by friendly folk, then Oreleander begins to take the initiative and starts introducing himself and son to the people. Finishing up with one nice elderly man, another man turns around and as Oreleander puts his hand out to greet him, he finds it’s the man that helped him with the tire. He’s knocked back a bit.

  The man reciprocates and shakes Oreleander’s hand announcing, “I’m Brother Tim, or just call me Tim.” He sees Oreleander is frozen, so he laughs, “Don’t worry, you’re right on time.”

  Kelvin looks up at his Dad with raised eyebrows. “I think this is the place, Dad.”

  Oreleander enjoys a hardy laugh, “Looks like it is.”

  The fellowship was fine, afterwards as father and son are leaving, Kelvin notices some kids playing around. Each takes a turn to stand on a picnic table and profess what they want to be in their future.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing to you the next world renowned Bible teacher.” A little kid announces with outstretched arms.

  Another gets up, knocking the other one off, “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re looking at the next interplanetary astronaut.” He takes a bow.

  The next, “Ladies and Gentlemen, you’re standing in the presence of the next mayor of our town.”

  One kid screams, “Lower our taxes.” Not even knowing what’s he’s saying.

  Kelvin grins at their ability to not see obstacles, to just be who you believe you are. Then almost out of ear’s reach, he hears, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m the next scientific theologian. I will use the Bible to learn more about science.”

  Kelvin freezes, looks down, then turns back to look in that direction. Goosebumps come next as he’s awestruck.

  Knock, knock.

  Kelvin waits on a door that hangs the sign, ‘Dr. Tuttle – Theologian.’ A big man answers with a pleasant and happy demeanor.

  “Ah, yes, you must be Kelvin Hobbs.”

  “Thank you for seeing me so promptly.” Kelvin looks inside the door with scrutinizing eyes.

  “By all means, enter.”

  Kelvin steps inside taking in all the walls of books. He begins to nod, enjoying the renaissance décor the study has to offer. “This is what I was looking for?”

  “And what is that exactly?” The man waits as he takes his seat behind the desk.

  Confidently grinning, he replies in due time as he’s fascinated by all the literature. “A strong foothold from whence I can get answers.” He remains standing.

  “To?” The man keeps a smile, appearing to be a fellow who’s always in a good mood.

  “My situation.”

  The doctor wonders, “Alright, what’s going on?”

  Kelvin takes a few moments to take in the book filled room before he begins to explain. He doesn’t want to rush anything.

  He finally turns toward the theologian speaking in a serious demeanor, and with his usual raspy filled words, “Doctor Tuttle, I have a friend. This friend takes me to places I don’t want to go. Makes me do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do. It overpowers me until I submit. It sometimes pulls rank to remind me of my slavery, that I’m its worker, its perpetuator. I have no defense against this friend.” He looks closely at a shelf of Bible commentaries.

  The doctor, intrigued, “Who’s you’re friend?”

  Kelvin slowly passes his hand on the bindings moving his hand away from him, feeling their edges, “Doctor Tuttle,” he pauses, “my friend’s name is Pornography.”


  The doctor looks forward to think a bit, then looks back up to Kelvin. “I don’t have any medical degrees.” He shakes his head. Kelvin pulls himself away from the shelves listening intently to what the doctor has to say. “Is that even an addiction one can be freed from?”

  Kelvin approaches, his persona having his usual intense manner, “I’m not approaching this as an addiction, and I’ll be paying for your knowledge, not your faith.”

  The doctor takes a moment to ponder, looking up at the ceiling, “I don’t know if I’m even familiar with uh...the subject that well.” He shrugs, “Much less, any cures. I mean, is there even such a thing as a cure, for this? Just from what I’ve heard from friends, sometimes these ugly things like to come alive after they’ve stayed dormant for a while.”

  Kelvin grins, “I don’t remember reading when Goliath arose again so I will attribute that to just another lie in this mental fortress I allowed the enemy to build in my mind. I need to find the sword in the Scriptures that will empower me.”

  “Are you sure a therapist or a counselor would not be a more suitable help?”

  Kelvin shakes his head and his finger no, then slowly approaches. “I need a theologian. I need information. Not a product of a lecture hall that has never felt my pain or a therapist that is not free themselves. And certainly not one with a medical degree to pump me full of soft narcotics. I need a theologian. I need information.”

  The heavy set theologian responds, “Well, I am none of those, uhm, previous aforementioned, titles, but my mother always told me I was a good listener. What did you have in mind?”

  “Tuesdays and Thursdays, four P.M., for one hour. A session with you. I talk, you tell me what you know, and a healthy rebuttal is always welcomed. I am not afraid of a debate.”

  “And you think that would do it? Stop this ravage eating monster in your life?”

  “Doctor Tuttle, I have realized that I am the one that gives this enemy such strength. If that is so, I can take it away as well. But I need to understand what is happening behind the curtain of pornography.” He pleads, “I need spirit inspired knowledge.”

  “Very well, uh-hem, one hundred dollars an hour.”

  Kelvin smiles and nods. At once he heads out the door, “You will be duly paid, Doctor Tuttle.” On his leave, he pauses and looks back, “Would I be crossing any lines if I asked to have iced tea ready before our sessions?”

pe, I’ll take care of it.” He waves the task away as it being easy thing.

  “I appreciate your time.” And about to leave again, he can’t. He turns around. “Before I go Doctor,” he releases a painful sigh, “can you please tell me definitively where the Bible calls pornography sin? I know Matthew 5:28, the intent, uh, also, 1st John 2:16, uh, a host of Corinthian Scriptures, even Ezekiel 23. But I still need something, definitive.”

  “Pornography isn’t in the Bible,” the doctor looks up at him from his Captain’s chair, “but neither is cocaine, by those names that is, or the way we would normally understand it.”

  Kelvin nods, still hoping, holding the doorjamb as if his very life depended on it. The doctor notices how fragile a line this young man walks.

  “Something definitive?”


  The doctor thinks a moment, then looks back up to him, “It’s un-Christ-like. I believe that covers everything.”

  “Un-Christ-like, hmm...” Kelvin nods, looks at him, and then walks out with his head a touch lowered.

  The doctor chuckles with a lighthearted expression, “This could be interesting.”


  Kelvin reads the Bible by the statue, a pose right out of an expensive male attire catalog. Saches approaches vehemently.

  “Kel, where have you been man?”

  Lifting his eyes at his friend’s arrival, “Managing my company.”

  Saches leans in and whispers, “Are you still trying to get free?”

  “I’ve been free a thousand times Saches, only to be ensnared again.” He sighs a sigh of exhaustion, “Which leads me to believe I was never truly free.”

  “If we are accountable to each other-“

  “Saches!” Kelvin voices frustratingly, followed by another sigh, an impatient one this time, “Saches, you lied to me about the chocolate cake.” His arms drop, eyes stay glaring.


  “Six years ago, my birthday party. Remember? When I got the go cart? The go cart, remember! I parked it in my room,” a lift of the eyebrows.

  Saches tilts his head to recollect. “I didn’t take your go cart? Wait, what? What are you talking about?” He leans in confused.

  “No! The cake, Saches! You touched the cake! The chocolate cake, Saches! Do you remember that?” He waits as his friend recalls the incident and tries to help him, “When no one was around, you tasted the frosting. I know you did.” He points with a scold.

  “No I didn’t!”

  “Yes you did.” Kelvin argues calmly.

  “No I didn’t.”

  Kelvin shakes his head, “Saches, you have had a weakness for chocolate ever since you were nine years old. It all started with Suzy Sanchez.”

  Saches’ jaw hangs open unable to speak, so Kelvin continues.

  “Remember when you gave her chocolate for Valentines Day? Then she shared them with you and you were floating on air like a cartoon.”

  Immediately Saches turns defensive, “I bought that chocolate with my own money. Money I earned, money I saved up. I was proud.”

  “You should be, it was a beautiful gesture. I would track her down if I were you.” Kelvin looks away.

  “I am not a liar!” A point to the side of Kelvin’s face.

  “I’m not saying you are. But you did lie that one time with the chocolate cake.”

  Saches is ready to swing at him, “Take that back!”

  Kelvin looks at him strangely. “Are we still nine and ten?”

  “You take that back, I am not a liar!” But Saches weakens as Kelvin holds his ground. “Okay, maybe I like chocolate every now and again, and maybe it does remind me of cute Suzy...Suzy...”

  “It was Sanchez.”

  “Sanchez, but you’re just using that to shoot down my accountability idea.”

  “That’s because it’s easy to shoot down.”

  Saches comes right back at him mad, “I didn’t taste the frosting.”

  “Yes, you did taste the frosting.”

  To be continued...


  At Karate class, Kelvin and Saches are sparring but Saches stops sparring and connects with a direct punch to Kelvin’s mouth. Kelvin backs away surprised, looking back at him while holding his jaw. “Uh, can I help you?” Kelvin still surprised, “We’re sparring, not trying to kill each other.”

  Saches points, “I didn’t do that,” pointing at his chin. “See, now you can call me a liar.” Saches stays with fists lifted and ready.

  Kelvin moves his jaw around then remembers. “The chocolate frosting -- it looks like you’re still mad about that.”

  “Yes! I’m mad!”

  Kelvin sighs, “You’re accountability idea will not work with me, and it will not work with you. All you have to do is find a web site with an advertisement for chocolate cookies and you’ll be hooked again.”

  Saches erupts and lunges at him with a punch, turning it into an intense sparring match. Kelvin having enough pushes him back forcibly. Then gets in Saches’ face, “You know how I know you tasted the frosting?”

  I didn’t tas-“

  “Shut up!

  “I know you did it because you never wiped your fingers once you partook. Saches, it was all over the glass that held your fruit punch. Since the cup was clear, I saw your shameful evidence from clear across the table. I didn’t even need a magnifying glass.” He gives Saches a shove back, “You lied to me, and you lied to whatever nanny I had at the time.”

  Saches is upset. He doesn’t know what to do or where to look. Maybe he was hoping for some sort of accountability, maybe he’s even worse off than Kelvin, but clearly just as deep into the lair of lust.

  Kelvin consoles him, “You’re accountability won’t work for us. Neither will all these other people that claim they can lead us somewhere they have never arrived themselves.” He grabs Saches by the lapel, “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t an answer.” He points to him with faith, “You have to believe there is one before you ask.”

  Downcast and tired, “Do you believe there’s one?”

  Kelvin lets go of him and gets into fighting position again, “Yes, I believe there’s one.”

  Saches nods hopeful, “By the way, you’re company lost thirteen million today in a law suit.”

  “Argh, its only money.” He waves him in to recommence their sparring.


  It’s late, Kelvin is in bed thinking, just staring up at the ceiling, lit by the moonlight.

  The iced tea is being poured.

  Doctor Tuttle hands a glass to Kelvin, “I was thinking where we could start?”

  “And where would that be, Doctor?”

  “At the beginning, I guess.”

  Kelvin nods in agreement, then begins to walk around the room, holding his drink, recollecting deep from inside the caverns of his mind. His eyes show years of reminiscing.

  “I was four years old. I had just awoken from a bad dream, a nightmare.” He remembers as if it were yesterday, being just a boy, and the gasp he exerted. He rubbed his little eyes, looked around the room, afraid of the shadows that woke him up and appeared like monsters. “Then I popped out of my bed and out the door I went, frantic.” He takes a sip, “Running down the hallway,” he sighs reminiscing, “that house was so big. Then I heard a woman’s voice. I stopped. I drew in that direction, the direction of that woman’s voice. I thought it was my mother but found out afterwards she wasn’t home. So I followed the voice and found my father watching TV.”

  Young Kelvin is frozen, his face lit up with the flashing light off the TV. “He didn’t know I was there.” He shakes his head, as if uncomfortable, “I saw something. At the time, I knew it was foreign, but it was already too late, the key was in the ignition. Then my father turned around and saw me, yelled, I got scared, and ran back upstairs to my room, a room,” he grimaces, “a room filled with monsters. I quickly jumped in bed and hid under the covers. The only way I could not thin
k about being scared was singing a song my mother taught me. I stayed up all the way until sun up.”

  Kelvin pours himself another iced tea. “Then as I got older, I would see hints of it, here, there. I started keeping an eye out for it. I remember, riding my bike with some friends through the trails in the woods,” he turns to him, “and I saw it, I pretended like I didn’t. Later, I returned, picked it up, saw its value and took it home.” Kelvin pauses. “I kept it hidden, no one knew, but me.” He smiles. “Then it took hold, I didn’t even know it was happening until later.”

  In the caverns of his mind, Kelvin envisions a dungeon reserved just for the work Satan produces to stop him. In that rotted cavity, a demon, ugly, big, monster like and repulsive, carries a long match like torch and brings it to a large wide furnace. The lit end proceeds under the furnace and lights a wick, giving a poof like sound as it ignites.

  “That was when my pilot light was lit.”

  The demon stands back and turns a rusty valve causing the flames in the burner to increase strongly. “From that point on, it was out of my hands. I no longer was the one that controlled my thoughts, my feelings. The control belonged to the enemy, Satan.”

  Kelvin sees himself through life at different times; and on specific instances, he remembers how disoriented he was. “Satan no longer had to ask for my permission. My body was at his beckoned call.” He recalls himself walking by the side of the road, his mind continuing to call up different events that he had previously tagged with shame.

  “Being at his disposal, for him to torment,” he utters as his eyes look perceptively around the room as if to keep an eye out for anything amiss. Then another memory of him standing in front of a building, comes to mind. Neon lights reflect off his sunglasses. He lowers his baseball cap. He still remembers his facial expression, one of wear and pain. “To drag me through all the corrupt places of society, and at the end,” Kelvin pounds the bathroom floor with his fist, “left in a puddle of guilt and fake remorse.”

  A few seconds pass as Kelvin needs a few moments to return back to the theologian’s study. He looks at the doctor. The doctor is just looking up, listening to this young kid who’s sincere, but very troubled. “I have a pilot light, already lit, somewhere inside of me.” His words give a tone of worry, “And I don’t know where it is, or why it was lit, or how to gain back control.”

  His emotions turn angry, “I’m not going to allow the enemy to tempt me whenever he pleases. Not anymore. I’m going to kill this thing.” Kelvin backs away a few paces, keeping a posture of determination. Doctor Tuttle leans back, intently listening.


  Cruising in his whispering limousine, Kelvin chats with Saches via phone, “How’s my company doing?”

  “You’re surprise bonus for the lower end management yielded a twenty-percent increase in revenue and by extension, substantially increased customer attention.”

  “That’s good, keep a look out. I’m a little busy at the moment.”

  “I look forward to hearing all about it.”

  “You will,” he hangs up. “You will my friend, you will.” He turns his gaze out the window at the passing scenery.

  Kelvin stands on the dark carpet, gazing out the window. “Doctor Tuttle, do you know what I believe true deliverance is? The attaining of true freedom?”

  “Do tell.”

  “Let’s take someone who has an undying passion for doughnuts. They cannot say no when doughnuts call their name.”

  “I like doughnuts.”

  “I do too.” Kelvin takes a moment to organize his thoughts. “Doughnuts to that person are not just a powdery pastry. It is oxygen, fuel, a fever. And if someone is truly delivered, I would be able to through a plate full of doughnuts in front of them and they wouldn’t even care.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  Kelvin nears, “I want to talk to a prostitute, and not have it in my mind to pick her up. Jesus did. There is a way. Jesus didn’t have that thing that I have. That is what I want to not have. I don’t want to be ruled anytime someone throws a plate of doughnuts in front of me, or even a thought.”

  “You know, many would argue that there is nothing wrong with pornography.”

  Kelvin’s eyes lower, “My scathed conscience and hindered prayers tell me otherwise.” Doctor Tuttle lifts his eyebrows impressed with that response. “This is one thing I have not been able to master. And since the Bible says to not be mastered by anything, I believe there’s a solution for me, no matter how elusive Satan may appear.” Just upon finishing his statement, he senses that down in the depths of that hellish dungeon in his mind, a demon hand turns a squeaky valve causing the furnace to burn hot. Kelvin feels a discomfort, he closes his eyes.

  “Are you alright?” The good doctor asks concerned.

  Kelvin stands up straight, bats his eyes a few times and tries to get his composure. The illustration Kelvin had in his imagination was not too far from Satan’s methodology.

  “Doctor Tuttle, what if we adjourn for today, I have things to attend to.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in two days then.”

  Kelvin heads out, the pause, “I can’t wait.” He continues his exit.


  In the deep night, Kelvin walks onto the empty basketball court, paces a few times, yells out in frustration then walks away flustered.

  In the dark hours before morning, a faint light shows in Kelvin’s window. All is quiet.

  Morning has arrived and Kelvin stumbles through the halls trying to keep his eyes open.

  Click, click.

  “Memo to all C.E.O.’s, we will have a closed meeting in the Lecture Hall in five minutes.” Kelvin stops, already exasperated he hits his face, a face of turmoil.

  The three sit as Professor Trouse arrives with two other professors. Professor Trouse takes a glance at Kelvin, “Looks like some of you would like to go back to bed. Go ahead, lose your company.”

  Kelvin props himself up, trying to keep his eyes open.

  “Now starts phase two of your, well, the reason you go to this advanced school in the first place. For the next few weeks, the ongoing forecasts will continue, but now you will be meeting with your group on a regular basis because you will need their assistance in handling anything that might arise. And it will. That’s all I wanted to say.” He pauses suddenly, “You can return to your class now.”

  The professors leave, and as they do, Mr. Spiffs looks over, “Mr. Sanders, perhaps my board can meet with your board in regards to a joint acquisition of another, weaker, company.” He then turns around, “Oh, Mr. Hobbs, where you here all this time?” Mr. Spiffs scoffs at him and walks off echoing a ridiculing laugh.

  Mr. Sanders turns to Kelvin, “Don’t worry Mr. Hobbs, I would never team up with his organization.”

  “Mr. Sanders, I can’t believe anything you say.” Giving Mr. Sanders a stare, he turns and walks off carrying his briefcase very dignified.

  On their way to this new fellowship, Oreleander looks over, “Everything alright, Son?”

  “Yeah, Dad, just thinking.” He begins to smile, “I like the car.”

  Oreleander nods, “I’m glad, but she’s a bit of a gas guzzler though.” They both look at each other and laugh.

  Early morning, Kelvin has his eyes closed over the Bible, thinking, trying to grasp.

  Out the window, his father voices back toward the window, “Kelvin, we gotta go!”

  Snapping him out of his meditation and thoughts, he rises, hits ‘Send’ on his laptop, and barrels out.

  Minutes later, behind the newspaper Oreleander asks, “Big day today?”

  A proud nod, “I’m meeting with my top management. I have to see where we are and how much capital we have available for a marketing blitz. Word is, the market is on the rise. I’ve been watching the Skew like a cat. If that’s the case, we have to make the most of it.”


  As they arrive at the school entra
nce, Kelvin looks back, “Be smart, Dad.”

  “Be smart, Son.”

  Kelvin exits, and immediately looks for Mr. Tripps, “Did you get my memo?”

  “We all did.”

  “Tell everyone to be there on time, sharp.”

  “Yes, Sir.”


  More thinking, this time in class.

  Standing with his iced tea in hand, head bowed, he inquires, “King David, when he looked at Bathsheba, would you consider him to be someone who looks at pornography?”

  “Well, he was looking at a real life image.”

  Kelvin nods and ponders. He recalls a recent trip at his new fellowship when a girl came up to him to introduce herself.

  “I’m Molly.” A nice attractive young girl, auburn hair. Kelvin, a bit surprised is happy for the surprise encounter.

  “I’m Kelvin.”

  “You come here with your Dad right?”

  “Yeah,” he smiles, “we look forward to it every time. Kind of our day.” Then suddenly, the vision of Molly becomes pixilated, as if he’s looking at a TV screen up close. Fading in and out, he sees Molly, the nice innocent girl who came to say hi then switching over to this other version his mind has conjured up of Molly, a complete misrepresentation, a lifeless figure, fake smile and fake agenda.”

  “Where are you from?” She inquires nicely but notices he’s squinting. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh, I don’t think so. I think I got something in my eye. Is there a sink around?”

  “Right inside. Want me to take you?”

  “No, no, thank you, I’ll be alright.” And he runs off holding his eye leaving Molly there watching him leave, wondering and shaking her head.

  Coming out of a daze, his mind returns back to Doctor Tuttle’s study. “So if King David was looking at, let’s say a life sized digital hologram of Bathsheba bathing, would you say he would have still pursued her?”

  Taking a moment to think, “I’m going to speculate yes.” He looks away pondering, “I would say there is no difference, in his mind anyway.”

  “Why? Why do you say that?” he approaches. “Tell me why you agree.”

  “Because it is still lust working. It appears to all stem from his flesh. His acts of a voyeur are the avenue where his lust is in action. And we know its lust because lust can never get enough.”

  Kelvin is enlightened.

  The doctor continues, “The pornography is the printed or digitized matter. But it is not what you’re doing. People confess, ‘Oh, I feel like doodoo, I look at pornography’, but they never actually even repent correctly, or even know what they’re doing. They have to realize, I feel like a poopoo pile because I’m a lousy voyeur, looking at sexual stuff I’m not supposed to be seeing, which only feeds their carnal nature. And the definition of a voyeur is…wait, I’ll tell you right now,” he reaches for a dictionary. “A person who derives sexual gratification from observing the naked bodies or sexual acts of others, especially from a secret vantage point,” then immediately points upwards making his point.

  “Thank you for looking that up, Doctor Tuttle. I never thought to do that.” He grimaces, “How remiss of me.”

  “It appears David fed his lust through being a voyeur. Yours is the same thing, only different. So whether you look at your neighbor getting undressed through the open blinds, or the window screen, or TV, or well, whatever, it’s still being a voyeur, further feeding desires of lust. Then, all of this even more harmful stuff comes in after that. First Satan wants to build lust in people, and then he wants them to satisfy those lusts. And it’s in satisfying that lust where people get destroyed. And since the inlet was never taken care of, they eventually do the ugly letting lust get the better of them,” he lifts his hands up, “which always keeps them in a tailspin.”

  Kelvin leans back stunned, caught by the wall. “So the pornography is just the treat, to keep us occupied, busy, while Satan is busy somewhere else. In laymen’s terms,” he ponders, “would you say it’s a type of Trojan horse.”

  “Yes, it’s the candy apple carts before the parade.” He ponders, his fingers moving showing his mind moving, “Uhm, it’s the doorstop so Satan can haul whatever he wants in and out of your life with full license to do it. In other words, he’s going to do it and he doesn’t have to ask you squat, and you can’t stop him.” He ponders a second more, “It’s the platform that, yes, this is good,” he chuckles, “that he begins to build his stronghold on. The list could be endless what he would want to take out of your life. You know, making room for whatever he wants to bring in. But basically, the end result is he just wants to move in and control you. Make you think you like it’s the best thing for you. And with enough deception which later turns to guilt, he succeeds. Then once you’re all used up, he’ll throw you in the trash like a bad example. Just drawing on Scriptural common sense here.”

  Kelvin ponders.

  Doctor Tuttle has a finishing statement. Intrigued, he adds, “Yes, it appears you can’t be a voyeur and a champion at the same time.” Getting excited, he screams out, “Sound bite!” As if a news reporter just quoted him in a presidential election.

  Kelvin is floored. “My good man Doctor Tuttle, it is good to you see you earning your paycheck.” And he walks off.

  “Ha!” Doctor Tuttle belts out giddy happy.


  Although in school, Kelvin’s attention is on the professor, but in the recesses of his mind, he thinks. Always thinking. A text comes in.

  We’re all assembled.

  He reads it, then sends back...

  Be right there.

  Once class begins to finish, he bolts out.

  Standing in front of the lecture hall, looking at his team seated confidently, he commands the floor, “Thank you for coming.” He chuckles, “After all it is your job.” They laugh with him. “We are in a competition with Mr. Spiff’s company, Diamond Shapers and Mr. Sanders, with whatever Mr. Sanders is selling on the internet these days.”

  Mr. Tripps yells out with a raise of a hand, “It’s stocks.”

  Kelvin looks over, “It’s stocks now? Keep me posted on what it will be tomorrow.” Muffled snickering spills from the group. “Our numbers are right, our stock is rising at least a quarter point a week, consistently. Our tasks are simple. Take a package that the customer puts into our care and deliver it wherever they say at an attractive price within the time frame they say and in a convenient manner, for them,” he points. Thinking a moment, “I would say most crises are not backbreakers, we can bounce up from high fuel costs, wage increases and such.” Saches sneaks in to listen. “Now there’s a notion that the market might rise, perhaps give us some extra points, capital to work with. I need from my financial holdings officers, Mr. Jenner, Mr. Sloan, Mr. Trent, what are our actual liquid assets prior to this rise. And when this does happen, I aim to advertise big, gain our revenue in a jump, because I believe the market will plummet right after or rather, most likely, we won’t have this kind of peak again. We need our plans ready to hand in by tomorrow’s events.” Kelvin glances to the back of the hall and notices Saches wave conspicuously with a big grin. “The market will probably stay low for a little while before this catapult happens for us. It must happen for us. If we don’t have the revenue to run in reduced receivables, we’re going to go in the red. That won’t look good for any of us and it’s not good for the company that was entrusted to us. Mr. Thomas, have your team draw up advertising proposals. I’m only looking for mass television campaigns; that’s our strongest medium due to there being a screen wherever our customers are. Preferably ads adjunct to shows shown on the internet. The rest, keep up the great ongoing work, be available. Thank you for the continual reports. Remember, keep this meeting shh...” He nods graciously, “Dismissed.” A light wave, “Again, thank you everyone.”


  Getting ready for bed, he sees his laptop, thinks a moment, then commands to himself, “No!” And proceeds to sleep.<
br />
  Late night, quiet and tranquil thoughts are awakened as two demon hands turn two valves simultaneously causing the fire in the furnace to grow into a smoldering violent tempest of flames.

  Kelvin tosses and turns, and finally has to open his eyes. He grabs his computer, turns it on and waits anxiously.

  Once the screen loads, he sees the horrific, “No signal!” He shakes his head upset. Then looks around the room, his dresser, book bags, then freezes. “No, I cleared my room.”

  Ending up outside, ripping through the trash bags, the floor littered with three broken laptops and a few high priced phones, he finally comes upon a disc rapped in a paper. He looks at it, runs back inside and finds the door locked. Oh no. He checks it again. Double oh no. He doesn’t believe it. “This can’t be happening.” He turns around and leans on the door amazed. Then looking down at the disc, he sees his reflection on the face and growls, “One of us is going to die.” Squeezing his fingers, he begins to bend the disc until it shatters in his hands, the shards landing on the ground.

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