Truth is SIMPLE

Truth has everything to do with love…

For the past 10 years I have been on a journey due to the privilege I have. The privilege to know who I am, to have had the chance to learn that and have had the support in order to go on that journey. I am not the person I was 13 years ago or 8 years ago or the person I was 3 years ago. Writing and having this job of creation, asking questions, reading, listening, informing myself and drawing inspiration for my stories from all facets of life brings out a lot out of one. Then 2 years ago I have had the opportunity to start a new job where I don’t only have to ponder free speech more objectively, but I also have to abide by international law when it comes to what people can and can not post. This has brought me a lot of insight in how even more people think, act and behave. But this also put in me in front with certain philosophical questions regarding free speech, consent, mal intent and mistakes due to ignorance. Not just that but it continuously puts me face to face with points of view that disagree or contradict mine. And for better or for worse in some cases, I was lucky or unlucky enough to always have someone to disagree with me. Whether I was 5, 15, 25, or now in my 30s there is always someone there to tell me that I either don’t know what I am talking about, tell me I’m wrong or just contradict me for the sake of contradicting me. And this next sentence is depressing, but I do not know any person in my life with whom I spent enough time with at some point not to call me stupid. So I was always faced with opinions I did not like, I did not care to see or hear or straight up insults and now, I have learned if there is no one to contradict me, where to find those voices easily, in order to check myself, before I wreck myself. So the past ten years have been a very arduous process for me. From writing four books about self-criticism of past mistakes, points of views and down right stupidity, to actually trying to take accountability for that behavior while trying to change my behavior and outlook on things. Or try to work on some of my insecurities that were born out of other people’s betrayal of me. I won’t go into that right now, but I’d love to come back to write about that and what changed some time in the future. Point being that this whole text here is not here in order for me to humble brag how great I am or the work I did in order to try to do all these improvements. It’s so what comes next makes sense, this was just context on why I believe some truths are simple.  And if you read my guide to being a good person or we’re not ready for progress or misunderstood control, you might have a guess what’s coming next or why that is what it is.

The truth is simple!

And here’s a guide to truth.

1. Truth has nothing to do with Hate, Hate Crimes, Hate speech, Oppression, Discrimination, Genocide, Violence of any kind against innocent and oppressed people, Racism, Xenophobia, Sexism on both sides, Homophobia, Transphobia or any kind of targeted discrimination and hate.

When I say truth has nothing to do with these, I mean that there is no reason to subject anyone innocent people to any of this. There is no way in any lifetime at any point in history to justify this behavior against any one innocent people. I do not mean that these things do not exist, they clearly exist and are very true to some people.

Why start with this? Because once you remove all these  things, a clearer picture arises. One where you do not blame and individual group of people for their actions, but you start to see the context, the actual and historical context of those that do violence and why they do it. Not that it is acceptable, but you might understand the root of it and how to deal with it.

This also implies other forms of violence such as justifying people not getting paid their fair share, justifying people’s lack to rights to buy homes by citing stupid things like “demand and supply”. Or justifying overpaying for groceries for the same reason. Or bringing up “inflation” and telling others they don’t know  anything about "the economy”.

And no, hate and violence in self-defense against an oppressive force or anyone believing and any of the things that have nothing to do with truth, as mentioned in point 1 is not a hate crime, discrimination or violence, is self-defence.

As you can see ignorance is clearly a factor in all these things that have nothing to do with the truth. Because in order to be on the side of truth, you need to be well informed and challenge your points of view. Which is a thing most people probably do not care to do, whether it’s due to a system that overworks them, or because it is a violent system that forces them to comply in order to survive. 

Obviously when you are ignorant you are more easily lied to and manipulated into these types of behaviors.

Well… That was easy. Who knew truth would be so simple?

Of course it’s not quite that easy, some truths are very complex and need a greater effort to be understood. But if everyone can simply look at their beliefs, and remove those things, their life will get easier. You don’t even have to understand them. You just have to abstain from having such beliefs and abstain from justifying such horrific behavior.

Whether you are in the oppressed and victim column, where you can justify your rage against the machine clearer. Not that it should need justification, as oppression, hate and everything mentioned you might fight against is unjustifiable. Or whether you are that which is in power and is justifying violence because you see your violence as natural and normal, compared to those that are hitting in self-defence, you might find that is quite easy to drop those things and do not require much effort, if you really have a heart and some compassion left. Not that you should have believed this things in the first place, yet they are the product of the system we participate in, and these things tend to be normalized and the victims dehumanized.

Because again, no such behavior can EVER be justified.

PS. Hopefully I do not have to spell it out and to write that obviously lies have nothing to do with the truth.

We're not Ready for Progress

Change is scariest when you are comfortable… And we are way too comfortable.

I do not believe that I have to repeat nor indulge myself in the usual trope of capitalism bad, people comfortable, people lazy, people ungrateful, people ignorant, people bad, people stupid, people uneducated. Yes a lot of those would be true, but most of those are the fault of the system we have in place that instead of helping people be better, get better, help themselves, it keeps them in a spire of misery. Yes, the system is also created by humans, and not an unknown entity with immovable laws. The laws and systems we live under are movable and can change. Yet, this takes a lot of courage. Courage many do not have. And while my brief introduction would lead you to believe that this is due to comfort, that’s not the entire story. That’s just something to draw you into the rest of this ramble. The honest truth is that there’s a large portion of this problem that comes from fear of the unknown. Change, and more precisely systemic change is an unknown. It brings anxieties with it and a lot of unanswered questions. Yes, of course, we have the answer to a lot of things and we can learn a lot, have learned a lot, from what doesn’t work with the current system. But, corruption can always undermine changes. Because it would mean a blind trust that not just a system can change, but that people can also change. Something that is rather tough to sell to anyone. And while anecdotal evidence is out there, if you are to ask most people, they will tell you they do not believe a person can usually change for the better. And so we’ve arrived at the reason for this whole post… We’re NOT Ready for Progress…

Prisons shouldn’t exist. Yes, at all. Prisons do not solve problems. Prisons do not help people be better people. At best, prisons scare people into not wanting to comit other crimes. But most people that go through the prison system, usually, become repeat offenders. Why? Because it doesn’t solve any of the problems to begin with. And what’s worse, in some countries even after they serve their sentence those people get out with fewer rights and with fewer opportunities. Which is why they often become repeat offenders. Instead of rehabilitation, you get persecution once you have finished your sentence. If you are from the US of A, this just might be the case for you. But that isn’t to say that the rest of the world is doing a better job. While the nordic countries are getting as close as possible to what we should be doing, it’s not perfect either. Because either way, we do not fix the systemic issues that bring crime. These things are a innate failure of the system and we should be very unhappy about it. And if your prison system is for profit, you should be livid with rage, especially if the prisoners also work for pennies as slave labor. 

Yes, personal responsibility is a thing, but unless you personally choose when and where and to whom you are born. Most of the things in your life are predetermined by the system. Meaning that any person is born to a predetermined set of options in their lifetime, as infinite as that might seem, it is quite restrictive. If you are born in a poor country, if you are born in a poor city, if you are born in a poor neighborhood but in a wealthy city, if you are born in the country side away from possibilities, these things predetermine most of your life. To get out of these situations in the current system necessitate an herculean effort. Whether it’s in terms of money, time spent doing things or just the mental pressure, there’s a lot hinging on you changing your life if you are born to struggle. Considering you can’t just move into a richer town or a richer country easily, and you can’t just meet the right person to give you a hand to help you pull yourself out poverty. Some of these things can be literally impossible. Pair that with poor education, lack of access, racism, xenophobia, abuse, an uncaring system, people’s disposition to not believe in change for good. And you have this whole disaster.

Which is why I believe prisons shouldn’t exist. It’s hypocritical. If we are to believe that most people are kind, caring, loving, compassionate, empathetic and good-willed, then we should believe not in punishment, but in rehabilitation and fixing the problems that cause crime to happen. And it would be great if we were to deal with those in the following order: poverty or badly paying jobs, corruption, lack of opportunity and mobility, lack of public transport, lack of mental health help and basically lack to a good living standard, affordable housing, affordable quality food and quality free time. These are the things we should actually focus on, rather than just punish people and believing in fairy tales that they might suddenly turn their lives around. It isn’t going to happen. Their circumstances didn’t change. The place they live in is the same, no matter how many years they spend behind bars, if you send them back into the same environment, with the same lack of everything, they are going to relapse, because we never really gave them a chance. And this is just one small example of a reflection of ourselves and how we see ourselves. We do not trust in ourselves to be good, decent people. And this shows in how we systematically think about crime in an archaic way. Basically shouting everyone is a criminal, everyone needs to be punished, everyone needs to suffer, and only a chose few deserve better. Which is ridiculous, not because it isn’t true, but because we’re punishing and dooming ourselves to suffer like we’re sado-masochistic freaks. My point is that in order for progress to be made we need to treat ourselves better believe that we deserve better, be better and believe that there’s better out there for us. Only once we do that we might have the courage to change and be the change we want to see in this world.

Privilege of the Written Words

Nobody the Blog RSS

I can do what you can’t - Privilege

Whether it is money, money that enables time to do what you want. Sacrifices, things you can let go or manage to do what you want. Other people’s sacrifice for you to do as you please. Or simply living in a system that does not bother you as it bothers those less fortunate or those it deems inferior, these things are the base of what privilege is. And this day and age these things extend to one ridiculous extent. Because today privilege can mean drinking clean water, eating, managing rent, nevermind owning a home or getting rich. These are things that shouldn’t be privileges, they are human rights considering the excess of wealth and resources we have. But that is not the point of this, the whole ordeal was to set some clear definition to what privilege looks like from my point of view. Yes, it might not be comprehensive or complete, but again, that is not the point. What this hopes to do is to create an understanding, nothing more, nothing less.

To each their own, for those who can afford their own - Privilege

Socializing will bring you around people, some you might like, some you might not. But each of those people might have similar tastes, behaviors, thoughts and wills. If they were to be put on an axis, most of them will have lived similar lives around that line in the middle. This is, of course, tied to the amount of privilege a person has. Which is, of course, tied to what family you are lucky to be born in or where you are lucky or unlucky to be born. As this can vary wildly, even within the same country. Where you can be born poor in the city, but be provided with certain privileges cities bring with them. Or you can be born in a 100 people village two hours from any city without much opportunity. Or even in the same city, it might vary wildly. But, those people you meet will have a choice of what to do with their free time. Whether they are starving or do not have to think about the next month, technically speaking there’s time where you are free to do as you please, in what you can afford. So, people of course, do different things, as they derive pleasures from things you might find disgusting or do not float your boat. So, some choose to binge shows, some choose to work out, some choose to do whatever, but this is also privilege. And the fact that this also belongs to privilege, was the point, but we each choose different things to do with that time.

I chose to know, I chose to think, I chose the privilege of the written words.

As people choose to do whatever in their free time, the writer can do plenty of many things with their privilege. Some construct a world without any thought of the real world, a pure fiction without any ties to how the real world works. Some, like me, use reality to create something different to bring out different ideas and dissect the human behavior in order to turn a mirror to their silly and hurtful behavior. Some, are all in reality, writing non-fiction, getting dirty, getting the facts as close to the events as possible. So, even within the privilege of the writer there are many that choose to do many things in different ways. And we’ve arrived at the point of this. Something people do not think about or choose not to about the writer and his process. That is fine, they do not have to, it is not their job to do so. But I, as a writer, have privileges and I am here to explain those privileges as many see them as simply ego wanting to be better than others. And as disingenuous the next part might sound, it is meant to simply clarify something very simple. And if you please to think about the next part carefully, you might find that what follows is simply something a writer has to do, as it is in their job description.

This is my privilege.

As a writer, I have the privilege of sitting unbothered and research. As a writer, I have the privilege of informing myself about everything and anything at anytime and think those things through for as long as I please. As a writer, I have the privilege to take time to put those thoughts, feelings, ideas down on paper and for as long as I want. As a writer, I have the privilege, to know more than anyone should know, about things that many do not think about, read about or care about. And not that a writer will ever be an expert on any of those things, but a writer has the privilege to know a lot of things, read a lot of things. And due to the fact that a writer creates stories about anything from nothing, can lead them to inform themselves about anything, which leads them to know things. For example, there are over 40 million modern slaves, automobile manufacturers admitted last year that they are keeping the inflated prices for profit, people thought the eyes were projecting light in the past, zoologists have difficulty telling apart the male and female hyenas.  And I could probably go on with random facts to give examples, but that is not the point. As this is meant only to showcase the wide variety of things you can know, with the privilege of the writer. This is a small pool, but this is already a long winded post about the privilege I and other writers have. And how the only difference between what we know and what you know, is the choices we make in what we do with our free time. You can apply every single point I made here to doctors, engineers, IT people, mechanics and all other jobs or hobbies where knowing a certain specific thing is needed.  Nor is supposed to make anyone feel bad for their choices, writers to not know everything, nor does anyone else, nor maybe should you. This was simply something to show the privilege writers have in their endeavors.

Guide to Being a Good Person

I do not really care about your philosophy on life, what your religion is or whatever negative thoughts you might have about the following words. But, if you do feel called out or offended by anything I have written here, it is a good time to reconsider who you are and who you think you are. Not because this is a personal attack, I do not know you. And as per the title of this blog, I am a Nobody in the grand order of things. If you just might kindly or rudely disregard every word from here on out. Which is full on your right to do so. Just because you or I, have the freedom of expression, does not mean that I or you, have the right to the attention of anyone for that matter… Unless you instigate terrorism or hate crimes, in which case you do deserve the full attention of the authorities..

So, you probably are a horrible person, welcome. You are not alone, nor will you ever be alone in this regard. But over the course of my short life, compared to others that have lived for over 80 years and have seen some stuff, I can say that I have seen enough to draw some conclusions on my own just like you drew yours. And considering that by societal standards I am an adult, I have thought to take those conclusions and write them down. Well, I had this idea for a long time, but never really had the wording right or all thoughts in order. Now after all that said, since you probably are a horrible person, you might want to be a better person. And that is going to be the hardest thing you will ever do in your life, if you decide to do it and become a better person. Not that I am an expert, but as I said, I do have some ideas.

So, what makes a person good or bad? Well, the simplest version would be the following comparison, good is like light. Bad is like darkness, meaning the lack of light, or by this logic the lack of good. So being good means not being bad. But you might say that everyone has a different size for what bad is or what good is. You can’t fit everyone in one convenient definition. Well, I just did, unless you see in darkness like you would during a sunny day, well, good for you, but I think you might be a mutant with special abilities.

So, you gave up and accepted what I wrote there, which is why you are reading this. And now you are asking yourself where I’ll actually start this guide. Which is here. Because if good is the lack of bad, then we can draw some lines in the sand. And for what is in the actual line, meaning those gray areas, well, those remain sort of debatable, but for another time. The same applies to punishment regarding bad people and their actions. And if you think, but I know that I am not a good person and that’s okay… Well, let me tell you that is not, and you should change because, you knowing that fact is not a free pass to be an asshole, you are simply part of the problem.

Yet the guide is very simple. It has rules as ancient as speaking or writing. So here’s how to be a good person. By the way, if you find yourself being one of those people mentioned below, please do seek professional help or talk to your friends or family about these things. Unless your friends and family reassure you that it is okay to be a bad person, in which case you need better friends and a new family.

1. Do not hate* - If you hate consenting people that love each other, yet do no harm to minors as adults, or do not harm animals, well, you are a bad person no matter what your religion, faith, whomever tells you whatever. If you hate people because they disagree with you and you think they are your oppressors because everything is too “PC” and “cancel culture is out to get you” because you can’t say the n-word or bully or be hateful towards someone, you’re a bad person no matter what your religion, faith, whomever tells you.

   *this however does not apply to hating nazis/fascists, any type of nationalists aka xenophobes, racists, homophobes and so on and so forth. Because hating those people is fine. Hate should NEVER be tolerated. But Nobody, aren’t you doing the same? Well, no. There is a major difference between someone that hates people and doesn’t want a group of people to not have rights because. And someone that hates the group of people and doesn’t want them to have rights. Because hate and harming innocent people should NEVER be tolerated.

2. Do not harm others** - If you harm others physically, emotionally, psychologically, you are a bad person. Abuse is abuse, whatever its form is. Your freedom, be it that of speech or otherwise ends when you hurt others. Or if you are a danger to yourself and those around you. This, of course, if I wasn’t clear enough, includes discrimination. So, if you say that some people are lazy or that they deserve it. And so on and so forth, you are hurting their chances for upward mobility, because now you are someone that whether willing or unwilling is standing in their way, due to your attitude and action.

   **this however does not apply to people that are violent in their actions or speech. By this, I do not mean that people should intervene to punish them or give them a taste of their own medicine, but what I mean is that the authorities should do their job and restrain them from harming anyone.

That’s it. See? Easy. These should be the norm, considering that we’re in 2022. Not an abstract thought that I have on a Thursday evening after years of debate with myself about what makes a person good or bad. And if you are still thinking “but what about what I want”. Or if you think you are justified in what or how you think… Then fuck off, kindly. Live in the woods, by yourself with no one around to judge you for the horrible person you are. As long as you have: plumbing, running water, electricity, the internet, live in a house you haven’t built yourself, eat and buy stuff you haven’t grown yourself, pay taxes, drive cars. As long as you are surrounded by other people and profit and make use of what other people made… You can either choose to be a good person… Deal with the hate you are getting back or fuck off. These are my honest thoughts that have been bubbling up in me for over a decade now. And I am glad to have them out and about.

De-Connected

It is not that I do not think of myself as human. It is more that I might have a different relationship to the definition of human is. The more we have learned about nature, how we connect and differ from it. Or even how we ourselves work as humans. There have been many that tried to make sense of it and our place in all of this. Meaning that the things you are about to read are neither new or inventive in any regard, but it is my own personal experience about being human or rather, being my own self.

At some point, some time, I don’t think I can pinpoint it with precision or accuracy when it happened, but I was more than myself. I de-connected with the traditional or the normal. Or at least I think that way because it just might be something that not many speak of or admit to it. But I am more than certain that there is a term for it in psychology, which obviously I do not know.

What do you think you are?

How would you describe yourself?

How do you see yourself?

What is your perception of what you are? Or better yet, who are you?

What are you to the human form?

What makes you you? Or to put even more simply, how are you different as a human?

I think that we both have different answers to these questions. Even if you never asked these things, because let’s be honest, why would you? A life can be lived without the need for any of these questions to be asked in the first place.

But you see, that’s exactly the things I have asked myself at some point. And I had to, because I felt… Weird… For a lack of a better word. I rarely care for how I looked. I was glad I was in shape and that I could run, but that never was just me or how I was. Even back, if you asked me what I thought I was or how I were to describe myself, I would’ve never have told you anything about myself that was physical. And if you’d ask me how I’d see myself, I’d probably tell you something really based only in wish fulfilment. But even then, I wouldn’t refer to anything bodily. And then something happened when I was 18. Someone asked me who are you? And suddenly all these things that I had answered until now seemed silly, nonsensical or pointless.

It took me years to try and figure that out. I was already de-connected by the time I had been asked that question, but it was after I was asked that I started to unravel and realize that I had been de-connected this whole time.

From the first time I remember being lied to by people important in my life. To the first time I role played characters I’ve seen on TV on my own. To the point I started writing to figure things out. Somewhere, at some point in my life, I de-connected.

I wasn’t just a boy or a man with its flesh and rawness. I was just a brain, in a body. Or worse, just a conscience in a meat brain in an avatar I haven’t chosen for myself. With flaws that did not and do not make sense to me to this day. Why after tens of thousands of years do teeth rot or get cavities? Why did we not evolve better? Why do our eyelashes betray us and blind us by poking us in the eye? Why do we have one hole for breathing and food to go down through? And on and on, I could go regarding this peak design we call a human body.

After a while, I had found what I wanted to do, yet that did not help much. The problems were only starting. There was much for me to learn, to understand, to unravel. That’s all I knew what to do. Ask questions, read, listen, think, overthink, make mistakes, and then repeat the whole cycle again. After years of doing this, I could confidently say that I cared little to none about my body. Of course, that had consequences. Both on my health and how I looked. But, as long as it didn’t interfere with what I was doing, I wouldn’t matter much. I was happy.

Yet then came a moment when I had to look myself in the mirror. Not that I ever cared much to do so, in the first place. But the moment I felt uncomfortable in my body, was the moment I had to face that part of reality, that physical body. And after years, I could not recognize the man in the mirror. I was an adult, I was me, but I never seen much of me. Not that I hadn’t been taking selfies or pictures with people or avoiding such things. But once they were done, I wouldn’t really look at them or myself for more than a second. All that was of no consequence or matter to me. Because it wasn’t bringing any real value in my life. The value that I started to treasure was learning, reading, entertaining myself with tv shows, movies, comics, cartoon, writing, gaming, anything that had to do with my eyes and mind rather than my body. That is not to say that I was never listening to my body, it had its needs, I had my needs, but I always knew how to deal with them. Growing up poor does that to a person.

It is weird to be so de-connected from your own self in a sense. Especially your own body. It feels like you are taking for granted something that is very much finite. Because once you remember death, the dread of losing the body hits first. Then it’s the dread of losing yourself, all you were. Well, at least that is the case for me. Even now, after years of crippling anxiety, panic attacks, depression, impostor syndrome, overthinking, and other thing that I either learned to manage, learned to simply let go or to deal with, I still have to remind myself that I am de-connected. That maybe I should re-connect. Take care of the finite time I have with this body or else I’ll make that time even shorter.

And you might guess that this might stem from a need to escape, to run, to hide, but there’s not much I can do the things that give me anxiety. There’s not much I can do about climate change, the terrible choices people make voting, the terrible choices those that were voted in make regarding almost everything, corruption, the rise of fascism and nationalism like we didn’t just go through a world war regarding that exact same thing 80 years ago and like we didn’t just go through a cold war over 30 years ago now. And regarding my personal problems, there’s not much I can do there either. I just have to take a day at a time and create a better place for myself wherever I am. The mistakes I made, I can’t help anymore considering that I can’t change the past. If you fixed them, took accountability for it, there’s nothing else but move on. If there’s a lesson to learn there, good. If there wasn’t, then you’ll probably remember it as a cringe memory at an inopportune time sometime down the line.

I don’t think there’s anything to explain regarding my de-connection. Whether it’s the why, how or when. It somehow became just another thing I have to learn to live with. And I don’t think I’d have it any other way, considering my anxiety and the fact that I have a small case of being hypochondriac.

So, after this many words, I don’t know if there’s anything else to do, but de-connect. Recharge and tomorrow… Do try again.

Goodbye…

A Note of Death An Unofficially Unlicensed Short Story

Hey, Ry. Is that what we should call you now? Ry? asks G. Yes. And I shall call you G from now on. I find it rather fascinating and though a bit confusing, yet fascinating, says Ry. Why do I get a letter but you get two now? asks G. R sounds boring, Ry sounds more mysterious. I like it more, says Ry. Say, Ry, have you ever thought of diversifying the places you visit? asks G. What do you mean? asks Ry. Have you tried the old continents? asks G. Hmm… Never really thought of it much. Used to have a lot of fun there a hundred years ago or so. Brilliant idea, G. I shall bring you a golden apple or maybe one of those green ones, says Ry as he takes off. Did you really have to do that? You know what may be waiting for him, says De. Oh look at you, two letter brothers holding out for each other, says G as he too takes his leave. You know you can simply not play the game if you do not like it, G, says De.

Some months later…

Tsk, he says as he leaves. With a frown on his face he looks down at the ground and in front of him a booklet seems to appear. The black cover, the text on it seems unreal. Pick it up, a voice commands him. As he leans down he sees the weird text and picks it up. Opening the notebook he sees a bunch of rules written down. He starts to flip through the book as he sees torn pages, names, Japanese writing he does not understand, some ripped pages. Well, what do you think? asks Ry as he stands in front of him. He looks up to see those wicked eyes, those long arms, the weird wings, and a smile to not be forgotten. Is any of this real or did I finally lose it? he asks. Why aren’t you freaked out? Usually people do not find my particular style appealing, says Ry. I don’t have an answer for you that won’t sound depressing, so let’s just say I’ve seen some stuff, he responds. So, what does a failed… Everything… Have in mind with that notebook? I have been watching you for a while clicking your tongue at this and that. You are rather fascinating. Smart enough to know when someone or something is wrong, but not smart enough to know how to use it to gain the power you seek, says Ry. So you are giving me a chance at wish fulfillment with this, is what you are saying, he responds. Clever, knew you’d understand. Yes, that is exactly what I am giving you. Now give me a show, I can see the gears turning inside that pretty little head of yours. It’s all I can ask for. Well, that and apples, says Ry. We’ve got a deal, he says as he rips an empty page from the notebook and stuffs it in his pocket.

I have some questions, he says to Ry. Can’t you simply use it and find out exactly what it does? asks Ry. Do you want a show or a whimper? he retorted. Fine, but you better give me something great in return, says Ry. Does anyone else have this type of notebook right now, right here on this planet? he asks. Not that I know off. Right now it’s only me, says Ry. You know, I heard about this notebook. It was all over the news here too when things went down in Japan. That must have been a fun time for you, he says. Mmm, yes. So it was, says Ry. I have a question about you. What are you? A god of death? You look different from the gods I read about. And what are you powers? Can you see my lifespan? Can you kill me? Or do you just observe? he asks. Yes, you could call me that. And let’s just say I can do lots of interesting things, responds Ry. So, I’ll take all that as a yes. Good, let’s get you some apples and let me buy some stuff to test what writing is, he says. Aren’t you ever going to ask me for my name? asks Ry. Why? I’ll make history, you’ll have your show and besides, you’ll be gone soon either way, he responds. So quite a grand plan you must be having to be done with this so soon, says Ry. Well, if what I think works, then yeah. It’ll be short, but it’ll be a blast, he says smirking.

Here are your apples. Bought a few kilos, hope they’ll keep you satiated for a while, he says as he sits down at his desk. What’s that weird glossy paper for? asks Ry. You see, with this paper you can write on it, put it over another piece of paper and it will nicely copy everything from one to the other, he explains. Oh, now that’s impressive, says Ry. You see, when things were happening over there I always thought he was inefficient. Of course you are going to get caught with pinpoint precision if your scope is that shallow. But then again, he was a teenager. Maybe if he had time to mature a little his scope would’ve broaden. That’s why I promised you a big show with a loud bang, but with a quick sendoff, he explains. Well consider me intrigued, says Ry as he bites an apple in half. He takes a pen, writes down a name and presses then the paper to the notebook. Oh, an actor. That’s very brave of you as a first death to note down, says Ry. Well, I have to see if it works quickly, he responds as he opens Twitter. Interesting strategy. Glad to have picked you, says Ry. That’s high praise. Thank you, he responds as the name of the person pops up and is trending a few minutes later. Bingo! Now onto the next test, he says with pride.

What’s that? asks Ry. A printer. But more specifically an ink printer. So, let’s see if this works, he says as he prints on that thin paper and then applies it to the notebook. This is what you meant to test what writing is, says Ry. Exactly. And if this works, we’re going to be doing this tonight and when the sun will shine, tomorrow morning, you’ll probably be leaving me with a changed world, he responds. As he finishes that sentence that name starts to trend as well. Perfect, he says. So what now? asks Ry. Now I am going to get a VPN, setup a virtual machine, start an excel sheet. And then write the name of every politician, every criminal that is known right now to have caused death or any harm to people and that is pushing and marginalizing large groups of people. But, they are going to be randomized on each type of this page and then put down in this notebook. And when the sun rises, we’ll have thousands of criminals dead. Not that I’ll know what will happen afterwards. Not that I’ll know how the world will react to it all. Not that I know if this will change anything for the better. But sure as hell this will send a message out there and some form of wicked justice will prevail for now, he says. You know, you could do this over and over again, if you wished so, says Ry. No, once is enough. I just might kill the wrong person or dig myself into a hole. I don’t want that. I want to see what effect this will do, if any. If there are other dictators to rise out of this situation, if the people do not take charge of this opportunity, then there is truly no hope for us as a species, he says.

After a long night, the skies slowly start to lighten up. So, are you ready god of death? he asks with a bunch of freshly printed papers ready to press them down in the notebook. As ready as I’ll ever be, says Ry with a devilish smile on his face. Well, after testing how many names on a page will work, I think this will be smooth sailing, he says while laughing after turning on the TV on a news channel to see the chaos unfold in real time with Twitter also opened on his monitor. Slowly but surely the news starts to come out that dictators, government officials, police officers, prime-ministers, oligarchs, corrupt news show presenters and every type of other criminal starts dying. One after another, the news cycle and the internet can’t keep track of the many deaths that are occurring. Whether it’s accidents or suicides, it seems chaos is completely taking over the world. Ry starts laughing. Incredible. You are truly incredible. So much death. So much confusion. Oh to think someone could pull all of this off, says Ry enthusiastically. Well, here you go, he says after scribbling on the piece of paper he ripped out from the notebook. What? asks Ry. I promised you a show. You got a show. Here’s your notebook. I have to burn this papers together with my laptop and printer. Enjoy the chaos, he says. Ry remains baffled at everything that is happening. As he throws the papers into the fire, together with it is the paper from the notebook which states that he should die 15 minutes before his lifespan is to end in sleep.

Hope you liked this longer short story based on a popular story for which I do not have the rights to, which is why I changed names and never really named anyone directly from that series. But Shueisha, if you wanna do a collab on this, I’d love it. Because I can easily expand this story in a manga format, if you can borrow me some talent that can draw. I wanted to write this because I had this idea while thinking what I’d do, if I had that coveted notebook and it seemed like a cool idea that remains very open ended in a way.

JACK - ANTHOLOGY OF A YOUNG WIZARD 18: Misery's Run

Let me go! Cristina says in an exasperated manner to the man. You are mine! he replies. Then marry me, you coward! Or is it that you only thirst for what you can’t have? asks Cristina. Aye, there’s nothing but your fucking flower between these legs that you can offer to this wretched world, replies the man. Look at you, fine fellow, sinning. May you burn in hell! says Cristina. I’ll gladly make you wait for me there, the man says followed by a thud. My legs are frozen in place, I can’t move. Fuck! I hear the man speak. Silence poisons the air around me as a million thoughts run through my head. Fuck, I tell myself as I start running in the opposite direction of where the two were. Why? Why did it have to happen? I ask myself. The more I run, the more familiar the setting becomes. I can’t understand this, I tell myself as I begin to slow down. What is it with this place and murders? I ask myself as I stop running. The clouded sky covers the moon turning the streets dark. I once more create flame in the darkness to see where I am. Trying to find my way towards Stephen’s Inn. A thought asking me why did I run popped into my head. The answer to which, I had none. Yet a jolt of fear struck my heart as I slowly made my way towards the inn. After an hour of wandering, I can finally see the inn and as my whole heart feels a little bit lighter.

I open the door to see Arcus, alone, drinking. Evening, I say. Arcus jolts up then turns with a defeated look on his face towards me. What do you want? he asks. To go sleep, I respond. Why here? Couldn’t you go anywhere else? he drunkenly asks. I do not know any other place to sleep, I respond. Why don’t ya sleep outside with the dogs… Or better… In the river with them fishes… says Arcus. That’d be uncomfortable, I snarkily respond. Yer right, probably, responds Arcus. Can I go now? I ask. Why does Stephen not listen? If he listened, he would have been doing so much better. But he always have to do whatever he feels is right, he stumbles in his words. You mean ha… I try to correct him before getting interrupted. Did you know he had a wife? No. You did not know that. How could you. You devilish wizard. Or maybe you knew. Of course you knew with yer magic and thoughts and stuff. Then I guess you knew she died. Childbirth. It was simply monstrous. The baby came out hanged and blue faced as she died. I pitied Stephen, such a tragedy… says Arcus. I am sorry to hear that, I respond. Of course yer sorry. Anyone would be. Even the devil’s spawn can’t shed a tear to such tragedy. Let me tell you something wizard. Whatever you came here looking for, good luck finding it. But pray that it doesn’t find you first… An unsettling silence sets after what Arcus just said. Here… Take these keys. Do whatever. See you never, says Arcus as he throws me the keys and leaves. I hate today, I tell myself before throwing myself in the bed and falling asleep instantly.

A much needed sleep, a much needed silent morning with the sweet chirping of birds gracing me with their voice. I either slept through people going to wherever they need going in the morning, or I woke up too early for noise to be a problem yet, I tell myself as I look at the bright blue sky. As I get up from my bed, I go to get dressed and get down for breakfast. Expecting Stephen to greet me with a big smile I go down the stairs yet there’s no one. It is dead quiet. Stephen? I shout. No answer. Maybe he is out and about, yet I do not see Arcus either around, I tell myself. Should I wait? Or should I find another place to eat? I ask myself. I should eat and leave him the money for the food and for the night after, I convince myself as my stomach feels like its chewing me out already. As I find myself some bread, some meats and a bit of cheese, another intrusive thought goes through my head asking if what I am doing is wrong. I take a kettle, add some water to it and start boiling it for a cup of tea. But at the same time another thought asks me if it is really wrong if I am paying for what I am consuming. I take my plate, set it on the table and sit in silence. As I sit, I can’t help but look at the light shinning through the window. I take a deep breath and start eating. A shadow appears before the window as the kettle starts whistling. As I raise my head, I see the Sheriff. This can’t be happening…

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JACK - ANTHOLOGY OF A YOUNG WIZARD 17: Lost in Death and Misery

If he confessed to his crimes, then we have nothing else to do but to take him to Newgate, says the Sheriff. I have not confessed to anything! I won’t go! You can’t take me from this church! Thomas protests. We can, and we will, says the Sheriff. Not if father here will grant me sanctuary, says Thomas. Father? asks the Sheriff. Please, I will do anything to repent and please, please, please, Thomas begs. I have a bad feeling about this. Fine, says the Priest. Thomas starts laughing. I was not done. You have only a day. You must pray, fast and do a confessional. If you do not or will not. I will hand you over to the Sheriff, says the Priest. I will, I will, I will, says Thomas on his knees. Get me a watchman or two to stay guard for a day here. He must not leave this place, says the Sheriff. Now I really do have a bad feeling about all of this, I slip my tongue as the Sheriff gave the order. I almost forgot. Please send word to that mob of people to inform them of the reality of the situation, says the Sheriff. Thank you, I tell the Sheriff. How do you always find yourself in these situations? asks the Sheriff. I don’t know. I just wanted to eat some lunch and go get my stuff from the inn. I never expected any of this to happen, I explain. You need to stop hanging out with a cutpurse and find better people to be around, says the Sheriff. Please reference me to someone that is a better people, I respond.

You asked for me? asks a Watchman. Yes, there will be another one coming to change with you around morning. Or do you wish to come in tomorrow morning since you have worked already? asks the Sheriff. I would prefer it that way, yes, says the Watchman. Okay, good. That’s settled than, see you tomorrow around this time of the day, says the Sheriff. The watchman leaves. So, Wizard, I will have to think of someone. Next time we meet, I might recommend you someone. And assuming on your good luck, we might just meet very soon, says the Sheriff. Does that mean that I may leave? I ask. Yes. I assume you’ll be at Stephen’s inn, right? asks the Sheriff. Yes, that is where I will reside, at least for now, I explain as I take my leave. Good, I’ll know where to look for you, says the Sheriff. Let’s hope you won’t need to find me soon enough, I whisper as I close the door to the church. As I move down the street, I enter the intersection where the people were gathered previously. A coroner and a couple of watchman pick the body of the dead man up in order to load in in a carriage and take it away. As I make a left, leaving that horrid place behind, I start to ponder about everything that has happened until now. If there are lessons to be learned here, I do not really know what they are. I mostly feel a victim of fate. Imprisoned, shamed, death stitched tot he back of my eyes, and no mere break from horror, I speak to myself as I get lost.

I don’t know how I did not get lost until now. Everything looks almost the same as everything else, unless it’s a tavern, church or someone important with an imposing house. It all starts to feel like a maze. I can’t even see where the river flows through. Or maybe I am too far from the riverside? I ask as I aimlessly roam the streets trying to find my way towards Stephen’s Inn. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings instead of letting myself get way into my own head, I tell myself as more and more noise is made around me. I raise my head to look around. I see people leaving as they chat about their day and the sun sets. As I take a few more steps forward, a giant building graces itself in the last few rays of sunlight. The murmur of the people now gone, I am left alone in this little square of London looking at this building simply wondering what it is. I hear a man and a woman chat at the corner of the building. Cristina, let us spend the night together. I have lodgings for the night, I hear the man say. I could not. It is Sunday. I am still young. I do not want to go against my mother’s wishes and ruin this. So you either marry me or I am leaving, she says. Come on, dear. There’s no need for that, yet, says the man. Then we can’t spend the night, she says. Where do you think you are going? he asks. Home. Now let my arm be or I will make a hue, she says. You whore! You wench! You dare sleep with others, but not with me? he says. Let me be! she insists. I’ll let you rot in hell, says the man…

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Hood: A Dead Man Walking - The Pilot Program 2022

A gunshot is echoing in the warehouse. Silence… Then a scream of a man followed by even more gunshots. Where is he? Don’t let him escape! screams a burly man. You must be mad to get yourself in this warehouse alone with us, says a tall man with a beard and a gun in his hand. The lights go out, a man starts screaming. The two start shooting. They see a shadow. The tall man follows the shadow with his gun shooting at him. Without realizing, the tall man shoots the burly man. As the burly man falls, from behind him jumps the man in the hood onto the tall man, throwing him on the ground and disarming him. Who are you? asks the tall man. They say justice is… Blind… But I’m not justice. I’m vengeance… With bloody fists, a heavy breath and a dozen man downed, the man in the hood said as he walked away from the warehouse with police sirens getting closer and closer. Log 045. The warehouse by the docks was a bust. Only drugs and small arms, nothing related to the location of Death’s Head. The info we got last week was correct, yet it was not what I was looking for. Note to self, find better informants, says the hooded man as he closes his audio log and gets on his bike. Years in the fucking FBI and all I could get was this lousy informant and a warehouse full of drugs when that mad man is killing thousands and gaining power by the minute, the hooded man thinks to himself as he drives home.

Morning, Craig. What happened to your hands? asks John. Well, you know sparring, training and I blew off some steam, says Craig. Looks like you blew out a fuse not just some steam, don’t you ever take a break? asks John as he leans on the desk. This is me taking a break, says Craig jokingly. By the way, have you heard about the news? It seems a lunatic in a hood went in Death’s Head’s warehouse, beat up like fifteen guys, then called the police on the whole operation. James and Chuck are down there right now taking on this case, says John. Man in a hood, huh? says Craig as he touches his bruised knuckles. Craig, I have something for you, says Arthur. This is my cue to leave, says John. Here, says Arthur as he hands me a folder. Craig opens the folder and starts looking through it. What am I supposed to do with all this information? asks Craig. That’s exactly your job now. We must find a way to find the fuckers that planted those bombs in the subway stations. You have there locations, firms, names, addresses and we need to get a lead on this. Any lead, honestly, says Arthur. What the rest of the squad doing? asks Craig. They’re still interviewing people from the scenes. Workers, people in the vicinity, cameras, forums, the usual, says Arthur. Why me? asks Craig. You always had a broader perspective and we might need that, if we’re to find who’s behind this, says Arthur. Understood. Thank you and I’ll get on it, says Craig.

Ten thousand dead and many more injured as the major New York subway stations were targeted with bombs by a terrorist attack. Black smoke from the underground is pouring into the surface as police try to evacuate the zone and first responders prepare to go down. We go down to our live correspondent… Craig… Craig… John pulls on Craig as he thinks back on what happened in early February. What? Sorry, I was thinking, says Craig. Can you believe it? James let those fuckers down at the docks go. It seems they had contracts that stated that they shouldn’t go inside the warehouse unless it was an emergency, so technically they weren’t involved in the drugs that were handled there, says John. That sounds like fucking bullshit to me, says Craig. And guess who I have to go after? The hood, says John. What? asks Craig as he touches his knuckles. Yeah, it seems they deem the hood worse than literal fucking henchmen for a drug and arms dealer, says John. Motherfucker… says Craig as he gets up from his desk and leaves. Where are you going? asks John. I have something to do, says Craig. As Craig gets to the parking lot, he opens the compartment of his bike, takes out the bloody hood, changes into it and leaves. James, you corrupt piece of fucking shit. You wanna throw down? I’ll be there to take you and your whole operation down by force, says Hood.

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JACK - ANTHOLOGY OF A YOUNG WIZARD 16: Vengeance, Forgiveness and All

You unholy things should have all died back then. But you were lucky that cowards hid you in their homes and had you lost so that you can blend in with people again. Hear my name, I Thomas of Bristol will have you and all your kind dead, says Thomas. A bit too dramatic for my taste when it comes to a confession. But not that I care much as long as that priest there listened to what you had to say, I tell Thomas. What? A Priest? Where? asks Thomas. You do realize this is a church, right? I ask. Sadly, I am no priest. I am a coroner. John of Sherbourne is my name and yes, I did hear the confession, says John. Well, this feels a bit underwhelming, I say. Stay away from me! I am warning you! says Thomas. You do not have the courage. If you kill me, they’ll know it was you who killed that poor man, I tell Thomas. But if I kill him, then they’ll know that it was you, says Thomas. Why? If it was you who I tried to kill, yet I killed him, what sense would that make? Why wouldn’t I just kill the both of you? I ask. He is right. No one is going to believe you as long as I live or you live, says John. Then I’ll kill myself, says Thomas. Good, you are making this easier for us, says John. What? asks Thomas bewildered. As I said, as long as either of us live, you will be the guilty one, John explains. What did I do? What did I do to deserve this? asks Thomas. You killed an innocent man, I respond. Give yourself up, says John. What about my mission? What about his demise? Why did this go so badly? asks Thomas. There is no justice in killing innocent people. And there is no mission that warrants such actions, says John.

I do not know what drove you to do this, not that it matters much anymore considering what you have done. But what happened long ago, has nothing to do with me or any others like me. Nor has it anything to do with you at this point. Unless you make it so it has everything to do with you by repeating the same actions of those that came before you. We just want to live and I do not imagine that I did anything to harm you or anyone you know, I tell Thomas. This has nothing to do with who you are, but what you are. You control the unholy, the satanic, the unnatural, the unhuman. And those like you should not exist and never should have existed in the first place. You and your kind have brought nothing but misfortune everywhere you went. Look at you… How many people have you seen die in London since you arrived? Seven? Eight? Ten? asks Thomas. Three dead, one wounded and I heard a story of a beautiful woman dying. And all the dead were from the will of wicked people like you, I respond. How dare you? asks Thomas. How dare I? How dare you to insult me and those my kind? How dare you tell anyone that they should not exist? That is something only God can decide. It is not on you or me to decide that. And I can say with certainty that I see no god before me, I respond. Thomas starts running towards me, trips and falls. John, the Coroner, comes and holds him down. Get off me! screams Thomas. John ties his hands behind his back. I will go after the Sheriff, says John. Please and thank you, I responds.

This won’t be the end of it, says Thomas. This is an end of this part of your life. It is up to you to change whatever comes after your punishment. And here I thought you were a friend, I tell Thomas as I sit down on a bench. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, says Thomas. A priest arrives at the church and I start explaining to him the situation. He is a liar, a wizard, a satanic spawn of the devil! I simply came here to seek sanctuary, says Thomas. But if he is lying, why would you need sanctuary? asks the Priest. Because he has them under his spell. He has the Coroner, the Sheriff, the Judge, them all under his spell. And they are coming for me! says Thomas exasperatedly. In God I trust that whatever the world is, whatever the people decide, it is for them to be judged by God in the afterlife. It is not my duty, nor is it in my power to judge. If you want sanctuary, we can give you sanctuary, but whether you face your punishment now or in the afterlife, it is up to you. Because sanctuary here, does not guarantee you entrance into the heavenly kingdom. To repent for your sins or to seek forgiveness from God are two different things from getting shelter by the church, explains the Priest. The Coroner enters the church together with the Sheriff. I may have not spoken soon enough, says the Sheriff. I will have my revenge, Thomas says looking directly into my eyes.

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