Samantha Moon Phantasm, page 75
part #9 of Vampire for Hire Series
“All of it and more.”
“You are... God?” I asked, and now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I had gone mad. Who talks to God? And through their hand, no less? Crazy people do, that’s who.
More words appeared on my pad of paper: “What if I told you we are all God?”
“I would say that’s some New Age gobbledygook.”
“Then I’ll just say this, and leave it: there is a very good chance I am God.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s the best answer for you, now. After all, only crazy people talk to God, right?”
“Er, right.”
“So let’s just leave it that I could be God.”
“Or you could be the devil.”
“The devil exists within God, Sam. As do you.”
“So the devil is God.”
“You said it, not me.”
“Are you playing with me?”
“I’m softening a difficult concept.”
“That the devil is also God?”
“Yes, Sam.”
“Most people believe the devil is a fallen angel.”
“In such cases, they would be right.”
“Because what they believe is true for them?”
“In essence, yes.”
“The devil told me he came into existence because he was summoned into life, to fulfill a need.”
“That would be closer to the truth.”
“Does the devil tempt man?”
“The devil seeks to continue his existence.”
I said, “So he needs to tempt man, he needs to promote evil. And he needs people to believe in him and hell.”
“A complicated existence, to be sure.”
“A group of people can really summon an entity into existence?”
“A group, yes. And sometimes just one.”
I blinked at the words on my page, absorbing them, realizing I had been speaking and writing in a sort of trance. I said, “He seems particularly powerful.”
“He has as much power as he is given.”
That made sense, but I circled back to one of the original statements. The neat thing about automatic writing was that I could just go back and read through the dialogue. “You said you were softening a difficult subject. The subject was that the devil was you.”
“Yes, Sam.”
“Is this because all things come from you?”
“Indeed.”
“All people, all life, all heavenly beings—”
“You say heavenly, I say nonphysical.”
“Nonphysical—and everything else in the Universe—”
“Multiverse,” my hand wrote, effectively cutting me off. “There are far more universes than this, Sam.”
“All of this and more are from you?”
“Funny you should say ‘more.’”
“Was that the wrong word?”
“It was very much the correct word. I am ever evolving, as are you. As is everyone, including the devil, including your universe itself. You could say that the very purpose of life is to expand into places not yet known or believed or conceived.”
“But aren’t you, you know...”
I tried to wrap my brain around the concept, and paused. My hand waited patiently. I tried again, “But don’t you know everything? Don’t you already know what you will expand into?”
“A common misconception.”
“So God doesn’t know the future?”
“God is aware of potentials. God is delighted when God is surprised.”
“Who the hell can surprise God?”
“The surprise is in the potentials, Sam. And when one potentiality opens, hundreds, if not thousands more spread from that. And they continue spreading as each life is lived, as each decision is made, and as each and every person grows into his own. Everything expands. It is the point of existence.”
“You said that. And darkness helps the expansion?”
“Even darkness expands, or what is perceived as darkness.”
“And it all expands within you?”
“That is safe to say, yes.”
“This is weird.”
“Tell me about it.”
I laughed. “I spoke with you a few years ago.”
“You speak to me every day.”
“Okay, but I’m referring to a conversation I had on an island, when I found myself sort of above the universe itself, adrift on a sea of space and time, in the presence of something... epic.”
“Okay, now you’re just buttering me up. You had a vision of me, yes.”
“I had a vision of other dimensions, too.”
“Indeed.”
“Why?”
“It is how you reach God, Sam. It is how you find your way to me. You will need this information later.”
“Later, when?”
“That is determined within the potentialities.”
Okay, that was a little weird. I reread the words on the page before me. So many questions. Finally, I settled on, “Do you oversee everything, all life, all worlds?”
“Not quite. I immerse myself into everything.”
“But don’t you, you know, have a say in what’s going on in your playground, so to speak?”
“My greatest joy comes from watching the expansion of life, without interference.”
“Well, I think you might want to step in and sort some of this crap out.”
“What crap, Sam?”
“Life. The creeps out there. The evil bastards hurting other people. The dark masters who control and kill and destroy.”
There was a pause. I’d gotten myself a little worked up. I was suddenly sure I wasn’t talking to God. How could God not take a more active role in the lives of people, mortal or otherwise?
“Sam, let me begin by saying that yours is a free-will universe, a universe based primarily on attraction.”
“Which means?” I asked.
“It means people get to sort it out themselves, without interference from me.”
“You are here now. Is that not interference?”
“You are asking the big questions, Sam. I am here to give you the big answers.”
“You’re saying that no one else can provide me the answers I’m seeking?”
“Your questions are without precedent.”
“You’re telling me no one has asked these questions before?”
“Few, and those who did didn’t do so with the expectation of receiving the answer.”
“Because this is also a universe of attraction,” I said aloud, “I attracted the answer. I attracted, in essence, you.”
“Yes.”
“And it is not interference if I am seeking you out.”
“You did not seek me out, Sam. You expected. Seeking and expecting are two different vibrations.”
“I was just looking for answers. I wasn’t looking for God.”
There was a pause, and I nodded.
“Except we are all God.”
“Aspects of God, yes. Children of God, yes.”
“And sometimes the answer needs to come from the source itself,” I added.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, speak the question that’s heaviest on your heart.”
“You already know it.”
“Stating the question prepares one for the answer. It paves the way, so to speak.”
“Fine,” I said, and collected my thoughts. “When I die, do I...” My throat clenched tight. With my free hand, I reached over and cracked the window for more air. I suddenly needed it for reasons I couldn’t explain. Old habit, I thought. I noted two homeless guys who had gathered on the sidewalk in front of a bakery not too far from me. They were already hunkered down and sleeping. How long had I been sitting here? Surely no more than ten minutes. But maybe longer.
Refreshed and cleared-minded—or as clear as I could make it—I said, “If I die, do I cease to exist?”
Chapter Ten
One of the homeless guys held an empty McDonald’s cup up above his head, even though he appeared to be sound asleep. He had no takers. People pushed babies by—or jogged or walked by, his cup ignored.
My hand twitched and twitched, spelling the words: “First of all, Sam, I am going to give you some information that you did not know before.”
“Well, duh,” I said. “That’s why I’m asking. And did I just say ‘duh’ to God?”
“You did.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Is that a question or an apology?”
“Both?”
“You did it again. And you were right: that was a ‘duh’ moment. I should have elaborated. I am going to give you information that was not asked, but relates to your question. Such information could be misinterpreted as me interfering.”
“Look, God, or Most High, or Almighty, Jehovah, Hosanna, the Big Guy in the Sky... whatever your name is. This whole not interfering business was your idea. Not mine. If you want to help me, feel free. Lord knows I need all the help I can get.”
“The Lord does know, and you don’t need as much help as you might think.”
“Is that your idea of a pep talk?”
“It is truth. You have within you all the answers you will ever need.”
“Except the answer about what happens to me when I die.”
“Oh, it’s in there too.”
“Then why am I talking to you?”
“Because you don’t believe it’s in there.”
I thought about that, and shrugged. “Okay, you got me. I guess I don’t believe it’s in there.”
“Which leads to my earlier statement.”
“The part about you giving me information that might be construed as interfering?”
“Yes, Sam. That part.”
“I’m all ears,” I said, looking at the pad of paper. “Or eyes.”
Triggered by the softest of electrical impulses, my pen spelled out: “First off, you give the entity within you, the one called Elizabeth, too much credit.”
“How so?”
“You attribute your great strength to her, and this is a fallacy.”
“And what’s the truth?”
“Much of your strength is yours alone, including your ability to connect telepathically and to teleport, among other things.”
“I don’t understand...”
“You have been selling yourself short, Samantha Moon. You believe you are beholden to her because of the gifts she has given you. In truth, she has given you very little.”
I opened my mouth to speak, closed it again, then said, “I just assumed...”
My hand jerked, my fingers pulsed. “Of course you assumed, Sam. And the entity within you allowed you to assume. She wants you to recognize her as something greater than you, so great as to bestow upon you supernatural gifts, along with her darker needs.”
“So the darker needs are all hers?”
“Mostly. It is, however, a true symbiotic relationship. She has awakened the darkness within you, too, and you don’t necessarily hate it.”
“Is that wrong?” I asked. “To not hate one’s dark side?”
“There is no wrong or right in a free-will universe, Sam.”
“But liking the dark feels wrong.”
“Your experiences in life have helped you define that feeling. The entity within you finds the darkness appealing, exciting, intoxicating. She can’t understand why you do not see it as she does.”
“Because I feel love, too,” I said.
“She feels love, in her own way.”
“A love for darkness,” I said.
“In essence, yes. And she would not be wrong for having that love.”
“For her,” I said.
“It is the path she chose. But she is part of you, too. And she has considerable influence over you.”
“Fine,” I said. “That still doesn’t explain all the telepathy and teleporting, my strength and speed—and all things weird and freaky.”
I sensed the entity—God, perhaps—nodding his great head, although that was surely my imagination. “You died ten years ago, Samantha Moon. You are alive today thanks to the tainted blood you consumed, blood that both killed your physical body and held you in a sort of suspended animation, long enough for another entity to slip inside. But something else occurred, as it does with all of those of your kind. Your soul also poured into your physical body, completely and fully.”
“And it wasn’t completely and fully in my body before?”
“Oh, no, Sam. The soul typically resides in both the energetic world and the physical world at once. You were, in essence, in two places at once.”
“And this is the case for all humans?”
“Indeed, although some dear hearts can reside in three or more places at once, depending on the needs of the soul.”
“But why?”
There was a long pause, and I sensed the entity controlling my hand was gathering its thoughts. Or perhaps it was, you know, big on pregnant pauses. Finally, the pulse came and my fingers twitched and shimmied across the page.
“Sam, it is safe to say that all are connected to me. All are from me. All are of me. What’s more, the aspect of the soul residing in the energetic world is directly connected to me. It is, in fact, an immediate extension of me.”
“I’m sensing a but here,” I said.
“It’s a big but,” wrote my hand.
“Nothing wrong with big butts,” I responded, but already, I was dreading what might come next.
“No need to dread,” wrote my hand, keenly aware of my thoughts. “But this might rock your world.”
“My world was rocked ten years ago,” I said. “Everything else is just minor aftershocks.”
“Very well. A good outlook to have. I can see you are on steady ground.”
“As steady as I can be. Hit me with your best shot.”
“The very act of becoming a vampire drew your soul, in its entirety, from the energetic world and into the physical world.”
I let the written words sink in, and when they did, I finally nodded. “And heaven is in the energetic world.”
“Yes, Sam.”
And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. “I am no longer connected to you.”
“No, not like before.”
“That makes me sad,” I said.
“You are missed by me as well, but there is an upside here.”
“And what’s that?”
“You have become, in essence, your own creator. A free radical, if you will.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your soul has never been more alive, or more powerful. It means that you can fully utilize all the creative abilities I have granted all souls.”
“All souls?”
“Few have mastered such gifts. The soul’s ability is astronomical.”
“Because its essence is you.”
“Yes, Sam.”
“And now my soul is fully contained here, within this five-foot, three-inch body.”
“Indeed. And it is veritably exploding with possibility.”
“This is a lot to take in.”
“I imagine so, but remember: you have been utilizing your soul’s many gifts for a number of years. You’ve just been giving credit to the wrong person.”
“I gave all the credit to her,” I said.
“This is correct. But without her, you would not be that which you call a vampire.”
“She helped create me—”
“That is all, Sam. She helped create you. Nothing more, nothing else.”
“But I feel less. The sunlight. Food. My reflection. These gross nails...”
“Spillover, yes. But nothing more. You are a powerful spirit, Sam Moon. A powerful creator. And someday soon, perhaps you will recognize that.”
I sat quietly and looked at the words that had appeared on my page, written in a tight, neat script that I didn’t recognize as my own. I had gone through five pages already. I placed the tip of the pen at the beginning of the next blank line.
I said, “So if I’m hearing you correctly, I have been ejected from heaven.”
“You are living your heaven now, Sam.”
I looked around at the mostly empty street, the two bums, the crow on the branch nearby. The sparkling facades of far too many high-rise apartments.
“It doesn’t look like heaven.”
“There is a kind of heaven in all things, if you choose to see it.”
I sensed the wisdom of the words, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet.
“You never answered my question,” I said. “What happens when I die? Me. Samantha Radiance Moon.” I rarely let slip my full name, as it is quite a mouthful... and begs too many questions. Yes, my parents were hippies. Growing up, my full name had been Samantha Radiance Sundance. You can imagine my parents’ delight when they learned I would be marrying a Moon. Giddy would have been putting it mildly. Yes, Samantha Sundance had married Danny Moon. Our wedding invites had promoted the celestial theme. As had the entire wedding itself. It was a match made in the heavens, we had announced. I had thought so, too. Little did I know then that there would be no heaven for me...
I said, “And what happens when this physical body of mine should die? This vessel that contains all of my soul?”
“You will return to me, child, where you will re-emerge into all that is and all that will forever be. Where you will be loved by me forever more.”
Tears flowed as I considered the words. Truthfully, I didn’t know what to make of them, but knew exactly what to make of them, too, and I felt love for me unlike anything I had ever felt in a long time, and the dark entity within me shrank and cowered in the deepest recesses of my mind.
Minutes later, when I had cried myself out, something was tugging at my mind—no, my heart—something persistent and childlike and innocent, something that grew brighter even when I shined a light on it. I almost didn’t ask. I almost didn’t want to know. But I did want to know, too. Very much so.
“What is heaven like?” I asked. “Can you... can you tell me what I will be missing?”
“Do you really want to know?”
Through my window, I noticed one of the homeless men had awakened and was watching me. He looked familiar. Very, very familiar. I said aloud, “I think so, yes.”
There was a pause. My hand twitched, then stopped. Twitched again, then lay unmoving, like something forgotten and broken. Finally, like a spider rising from the dead, it rose up and pulsed to life, and spelled out the words:
