Soldier Ghost, Part 8
The $557 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Ten Up
Shark America Zero Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 180
Virgil Kret's Cell Phone Number: (530) 276-4923
Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2008
George W. Bush Will Destroy the World
Looking for the Peru-Chile God Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle: The Secret Story, Soldier Ghost (8)
Today's code is "71st Day, Last Year".
"I wonder why nobody don't like me. Or is it the fact that I am ugly?" From Mama Look A Boo-Boo, by Harry Belafonte.
My Old Pal God has asked me to write today on why so many people don't like me; and further on why among those who dislike me most--detest me, actually--are my extended family.
I accept such assignments reluctantly because they get into the doctrine of America's state religion, psychiatry, which says, "Tell me your life's story at $50 an hour; take your time; let's pick away at those scabs together, and thereby heal your mental boo-boos."
(Psyciatry is suitable only for Jews who have lost touch with God; and certainly should never be inflicted on Christians. To psychiatry, Christianity is insanity.)
My dear Old Pal God has asked me to talk to you about this because at this time, even as you read this if you are reading it in current time and not historical terms, my extended family is forcing by trickery, cajoling and pressure my beloved niece, Amber, to go through electric shock therapy, which she declares repeatedly she does not want.
This evil false-medicine will destroy her; and it will in no way solve the situation that has led her to death's door through exhaustion and despair.
That situation is that her second son, Ian, now about 28, was paralyzed in an accident about eight years ago and she, virtually alone and unaided, has cared for him night and day ever since.
In this forced infliction on my beloved niece Amber of the psycho-fascist religion of psychiatry, the status of her paralyzed son, my beloved nephew Ian is not being considered at all, and once the electric shock therapy has turned the mind of my beloved niece Amber into a wilted vegetable her son, my beloved grandnephew Ian, will be sent away to rot in a state institution.
It is important here to note that the only member of my extended family who loves me is this niece, Amber; and that she sought me out despite years of false information about me, and she sought me out because she felt guided by God to do so.
And why would God so guide her? I feel it is because she is Of the Light in a family which is Of the Dark; and Dark always attacks Light; and because I am also Of the Light within my family Of the Dark, and my family persecutes me, too.
And further, I think God is going to help Amber and her son Ian in some way, and God wants me to write a little about it before God does it.
I think it is possible we may not only see the public salvation of Amber and her paralyzed son Ian; but the public damnation of those who fry her brain and persecute him.
It is also important to note here that my beloved niece Amber is the only Christian in my extended family.
Sure there are those who go to various Christian churches, but she is the only Christian in spirit and in action; the rest are what in olden days were called "empty vessels".
Jesus spoke of these empty Christian vessels when he said we should know people by their works not their words; and when it comes to Christians if they do not live Christianity, if they lie, if they torture, if they murder, if they gossip, if they plot, if they worship before the false alter of psychiatry, they are not genuine Christians even though they wear the genuine label of Jesus, like a genuine American label on a pair of ripoff Hong Kong blue jeans does not make them genuine.
I explained the situation of my niece, Amber, and my grandnephew, Ian, in this work during December, January and February, when I lived and worked in Anaheim, California, purely and only at the fervent requests of my niece.
What my Old Pal God has asked me to talk about today, however, is not her situation, not even the evil madness of forcing her to take electric shock therapy; but the hatred and loathing of me by my extended family, and by so many millions of Americans.
It is this loathing of me that prevented me from helping my beloved niece out of her dilemma. I had found a solution. I had found the obvious solution.
Amber was being destroyed by sleep deprivation because she was being called on at least ten times a night to help her paralyzed son Ian; and I simply started taking care of Ian at night so she could sleep.
There was nothing to it. Turn me over, please, fix my pillow, please, cover me with my blanket, please. Anyone could do it. There were no duties that would require an RN or a physical therapist--a person of high salary--just a person paid or unpaid to perform simple acts of kindness for Ian while his mother slept.
Amber has four other children. Not one volunteered to do this.
Amber's husband, Ian's stepfather, probably does not even speak to Ian more than three times a month, and then only to scold him; but he makes a lot of money and could hire a person to respond to his stepson's simple night needs while his wife slept; but he does absolutely nothing but watch big screen TV and play the man.
The husband's solution to the horrid dilemma his household faces is to zap his wife 30 times with electric shock treatments and then "send Ian away"; so in the end his wife will be a shell of herself; her light put out, thereby fitting better in with the dimness of her husband, her children, her mother, her in-laws and her sisters; and Ian will be lost and alone
.
In terms of the human soul, the Dark always attacks the Light.
The point beyond this is that while my beloved niece Amber's extended family is expressing such loathing toward me now for opposing the electric shock treatments, loathing to such an extent that I am threatened with physical mayhem if I go near my beloved niece Amber and am blocked from talking to her on the phone...(The final straw seems to have been my suggestion to Amber that she ask her Minister for advice and prayers; because she so does not want to take the electric shock treatments)...but all of this loathing and contempt for me existed in my extended family long before Amber ever sought me out with this problem about a year ago, long before Ian was paralyzed, long before Ian was born,long before Amber became an adult.
I want to suggest to you that this parochial, microcosmic matter is important on the larger, macrocosmic scale because the reason for this hatred and loathing of me is that my family lies about me and believes its own lies about me.
This concept is important on the larger scale because America's greatest weakness is that it lies to itself and believes its own lies, including its lies about me, including its lies about war and peace.
That is why America has soldiers dead and dying daily, arms gone, legs gone, hope gone, and more gone; that is why America has murdered about one million Iraqi people--America told a lie to America, and now America is married to its lie, and all those running for President today must kowtow to that lie of yesterday, and the lie lives on while America and this Earth die.
The details in this anecdote are less important than the devil; not what lies about me were told and believed, but that lies were told and believed...told to my extended family and told to the American people.
The devil is that the whole existence of my extended family is floating on lies, just as the whole existence of the United States of America and this Earth are floating on lies.
Lies are paper ships in an acid sea.
Why is it my niece's husband and oldest son feel they have the right to torture me with bangs on the wall when I sleep, and then become even more furious at me when I report on that torture in this work?
That is the American way with me, of course, to torture me for my gift from God of audible mental telepathy, and then threaten me with brutality and accuse me of insanity because I say I am being tortured, or even because I say I am audibly telepathic; a fact known by millions of lying, dying Americans.
On the microcosmic level we see that torture, based on the bearing of false witness, is causing my beloved niece's brain to be fried with electric shock and my beloved nephew to be sent off to rot in a state institution; and I am seen as the bad guy in this scenario.
So to on the macrocosmic level, we see that torture of me based on the bearing of false witness on a national level has led, for example, to the success of the 9/11 attack which God's gift to me warned of well in advance, and the subsequent slaughter at home and abroad of lives, and the Republican American theft of the treasury of the United States of America.
What did the Earth die of, My Son? Lies, My Father, lies.
While I may or may not be important to this Zone of Time, America's torture-enslavement of me based on false witness is of critical importance.
This national bearing of false witness is the Gordian Knot of my enslavement. Like Alexander, I do no seek to untie the knot, I seek to cut it through and through with my sword. God will cut that knot for me.
Lies kill. Lies are killing my beloved niece Amber. Lies are killing my beloved grandnephew Ian. Lies are killing you, Dear Reader.
Why did my Old Pal and Editor God assign me this story today?
I think it is because God is going to save my beloved niece Amber and my beloved grandnephew, Ian; and damn the souls of those who would fry her brain and send him away to rot.
And I think God wanted me to record this action by God in this work before God carries it out.
Let's see how this plays out.
Now let's return to our story of Soldier Ghost.
In this installment we meet Soldier Ghost for the first time since we saw his fresh-dead body on the battlefield in the opening paragraphs of this story; and we find he does not like Tea, nor the situation he is in.
Recall that in our previous episode Tea was advised by the ghost of an ancient samurai to find a way to get the ghosts attached to him home, because if he did not they would drag him down.
Soldier Ghost, Part 8
Soldier Ghost, for his part, never really cared for Tea.
He had leaped upon Tea in some spasm of reaction he did not understand, and having done so he seemed glued to Tea and could not leave.
Soldier Ghost existed in a fitful, aching slumber most of the time, a slumber which he sought out in preference to awareness of his pitiful state
Soldier Ghost felt cheated.
He had been taught to expect Angels with trumpets but instead got this hellish attachment to what he found to be a repulsive person, smelling like cigarettes and whisky and fucking three times a day, and when he wasn't fucking or drinking he was pounding away on a typewriter in the glaringly lit office of United Press International in Tokyo; and nothing felt right; and somewhere inside him he knew his mother needed what he instinctively thought of as his "Goodbye Touch"; and all the other dead Grunts holding on to this prig (as he thought Tea to be) were starting to come to, moaning and lamenting even more than he.
Soldier Ghost, unripened Christian soul, began to think he was damned.
December came. Soldier Ghost was now five months dead. The agony of those who had loved him in life was now reduced to a constant, aching howl which, in one form or another, they would howl for the rest of their lives.
All the Grunt ghosts attached to Tea were also now awake and aware of being dead, suffering the same agonies as those of Soldier Ghost.
Tea's composure was beginning to wear thin. He had as yet found no way to communicate with these dead American soldiers.
Generally, he would pass through their zone daily when awakening, when he was least prepared to deal with them, and they would bombard him so with screeches and sorrows that he would hurry through that zone as quickly as possible.
In mid-month Soldier Ghost screamed at Tea as Tea passed by, "Are you Satan?"
Satan? Tea, a raggedy assed Asia newsman?
But this strange question brought about the breakthrough Tea was looking for. It was a clear sentence stating what Soldier Ghost was experiencing. It told Tea Soldier Ghost was a Christian soul in a state very much like madness.
Up to that point Tea had expected Soldier Ghost and the others to simply awaken to another state of awareness the dead awaken to, where it would not be so bad for them; as if the newly dead were like the newly born and a natural progression from infant to toddler to child to adult could be expected.
Maybe it was that way; and maybe five months was too soon for betterment to show in the souls of young men killed by the hot smacks of bullets and the hot slicings of shrapnel.
Damn, but it was hard baby-sitting, baby sitting those dead American soldiers.
Tea began a series of experiments, attempting to establish longer and more calming contact with the ghosts.
These experiments were sandwiched between the other events in Tea's life. He told no one about the ghosts. He sought no advice from literature or scripture. His instincts told him to keep quiet about the problem and solve it in his own way as soon and as quietly as possible.
Tea had no desire to be branded as a lunatic or a medium; and he knew the ghosts were drawing something from him, that he must become a road to somewhere for them because they were dangerously parasitic to him.
(Later, when Tea became broadly known as a ghost hunter, he was to propose that many forms of madness were the result of ghost adhesion, that many people who heard voices, for example, were actually hearing the voices of ghosts.)
The dangers the ghosts posed to Tea were nameless and unknown, but he knew they were there.
What would happen as the ghosts got stronger?
And the ghosts, like some double injustice, were beginning to hate Tea; he could feel their hatred rising up like sulphur steam from a volcano just thinking about erupting.
Tea found their state of anguish at being dead, compared with his own state of near rapture at being alive, was so grotesque to them that no matter what he said was taken as intentional torment.
That's why Soldier Ghost had asked him if he was Satan. A friendly smile would translate as an evil grin; a sincere "Are you in pain?" would seem to be cruel teasing.
Tea had detected at least half a dozen different voices of dead American soldiers attached to him, all insane with anguish and daily becoming more abusive of him.
He had enslaved them. He was torturing them. He had captured their souls.
At night, in his sleep, they began to creep into his dreams, and he would have to struggle toward wakefullness like an underwater swimmer attempting to break through the confining, killing ice of a winter river; or suffer their suffocating terrors.
Grasping for straws, Tea clutched a plan.
He took a page from wire service radio transmission of copy. The material to be sent out was first punched, encoded in dots, onto a ribbon of paper tape, and then transmitted. When stories or messages were not being transmitted a circle of paper tape was run, repeating constantly the name of the company, its call sign, and the place of origin of the transmission.
Tea decided to use calming repetition, the repeating message to be The Lord's Prayer, since it seemed hardly likely Soldier Ghost and the other dead American soldiers would interpret it as satanic.
It worked.
Tea sent the same broadcast four days in a row, thinking The Lord's Prayer word by word up to 30 times a day, beginning when he first became aware of waking up in the morning, and ending when he was falling asleep at night.
Each day he felt the ghosts becoming more attentive and less abusive.
On the fifth day he dialed in and said nothing. The zone seemed calm.
Then a new wrinkle appeared.
After a few seconds of blankness, no howling, no screeching, no cursing, no threats nor pleas, a clear, calm, Vietnamese-accented voice said, "You prayed me Union Two".
(To Be Continued)
Meanwhile, the USA, unaware it was about to eat the fire, passed through the 71st day of its last year.
Jews Jaws Ten Up
Shark America Zero Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 180
Virgil Kret's Cell Phone Number: (530) 276-4923
Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2008
George W. Bush Will Destroy the World
Looking for the Peru-Chile God Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle: The Secret Story, Soldier Ghost (8)
Today's code is "71st Day, Last Year".
"I wonder why nobody don't like me. Or is it the fact that I am ugly?" From Mama Look A Boo-Boo, by Harry Belafonte.
My Old Pal God has asked me to write today on why so many people don't like me; and further on why among those who dislike me most--detest me, actually--are my extended family.
I accept such assignments reluctantly because they get into the doctrine of America's state religion, psychiatry, which says, "Tell me your life's story at $50 an hour; take your time; let's pick away at those scabs together, and thereby heal your mental boo-boos."
(Psyciatry is suitable only for Jews who have lost touch with God; and certainly should never be inflicted on Christians. To psychiatry, Christianity is insanity.)
My dear Old Pal God has asked me to talk to you about this because at this time, even as you read this if you are reading it in current time and not historical terms, my extended family is forcing by trickery, cajoling and pressure my beloved niece, Amber, to go through electric shock therapy, which she declares repeatedly she does not want.
This evil false-medicine will destroy her; and it will in no way solve the situation that has led her to death's door through exhaustion and despair.
That situation is that her second son, Ian, now about 28, was paralyzed in an accident about eight years ago and she, virtually alone and unaided, has cared for him night and day ever since.
In this forced infliction on my beloved niece Amber of the psycho-fascist religion of psychiatry, the status of her paralyzed son, my beloved nephew Ian is not being considered at all, and once the electric shock therapy has turned the mind of my beloved niece Amber into a wilted vegetable her son, my beloved grandnephew Ian, will be sent away to rot in a state institution.
It is important here to note that the only member of my extended family who loves me is this niece, Amber; and that she sought me out despite years of false information about me, and she sought me out because she felt guided by God to do so.
And why would God so guide her? I feel it is because she is Of the Light in a family which is Of the Dark; and Dark always attacks Light; and because I am also Of the Light within my family Of the Dark, and my family persecutes me, too.
And further, I think God is going to help Amber and her son Ian in some way, and God wants me to write a little about it before God does it.
I think it is possible we may not only see the public salvation of Amber and her paralyzed son Ian; but the public damnation of those who fry her brain and persecute him.
It is also important to note here that my beloved niece Amber is the only Christian in my extended family.
Sure there are those who go to various Christian churches, but she is the only Christian in spirit and in action; the rest are what in olden days were called "empty vessels".
Jesus spoke of these empty Christian vessels when he said we should know people by their works not their words; and when it comes to Christians if they do not live Christianity, if they lie, if they torture, if they murder, if they gossip, if they plot, if they worship before the false alter of psychiatry, they are not genuine Christians even though they wear the genuine label of Jesus, like a genuine American label on a pair of ripoff Hong Kong blue jeans does not make them genuine.
I explained the situation of my niece, Amber, and my grandnephew, Ian, in this work during December, January and February, when I lived and worked in Anaheim, California, purely and only at the fervent requests of my niece.
What my Old Pal God has asked me to talk about today, however, is not her situation, not even the evil madness of forcing her to take electric shock therapy; but the hatred and loathing of me by my extended family, and by so many millions of Americans.
It is this loathing of me that prevented me from helping my beloved niece out of her dilemma. I had found a solution. I had found the obvious solution.
Amber was being destroyed by sleep deprivation because she was being called on at least ten times a night to help her paralyzed son Ian; and I simply started taking care of Ian at night so she could sleep.
There was nothing to it. Turn me over, please, fix my pillow, please, cover me with my blanket, please. Anyone could do it. There were no duties that would require an RN or a physical therapist--a person of high salary--just a person paid or unpaid to perform simple acts of kindness for Ian while his mother slept.
Amber has four other children. Not one volunteered to do this.
Amber's husband, Ian's stepfather, probably does not even speak to Ian more than three times a month, and then only to scold him; but he makes a lot of money and could hire a person to respond to his stepson's simple night needs while his wife slept; but he does absolutely nothing but watch big screen TV and play the man.
The husband's solution to the horrid dilemma his household faces is to zap his wife 30 times with electric shock treatments and then "send Ian away"; so in the end his wife will be a shell of herself; her light put out, thereby fitting better in with the dimness of her husband, her children, her mother, her in-laws and her sisters; and Ian will be lost and alone
.
In terms of the human soul, the Dark always attacks the Light.
The point beyond this is that while my beloved niece Amber's extended family is expressing such loathing toward me now for opposing the electric shock treatments, loathing to such an extent that I am threatened with physical mayhem if I go near my beloved niece Amber and am blocked from talking to her on the phone...(The final straw seems to have been my suggestion to Amber that she ask her Minister for advice and prayers; because she so does not want to take the electric shock treatments)...but all of this loathing and contempt for me existed in my extended family long before Amber ever sought me out with this problem about a year ago, long before Ian was paralyzed, long before Ian was born,long before Amber became an adult.
I want to suggest to you that this parochial, microcosmic matter is important on the larger, macrocosmic scale because the reason for this hatred and loathing of me is that my family lies about me and believes its own lies about me.
This concept is important on the larger scale because America's greatest weakness is that it lies to itself and believes its own lies, including its lies about me, including its lies about war and peace.
That is why America has soldiers dead and dying daily, arms gone, legs gone, hope gone, and more gone; that is why America has murdered about one million Iraqi people--America told a lie to America, and now America is married to its lie, and all those running for President today must kowtow to that lie of yesterday, and the lie lives on while America and this Earth die.
The details in this anecdote are less important than the devil; not what lies about me were told and believed, but that lies were told and believed...told to my extended family and told to the American people.
The devil is that the whole existence of my extended family is floating on lies, just as the whole existence of the United States of America and this Earth are floating on lies.
Lies are paper ships in an acid sea.
Why is it my niece's husband and oldest son feel they have the right to torture me with bangs on the wall when I sleep, and then become even more furious at me when I report on that torture in this work?
That is the American way with me, of course, to torture me for my gift from God of audible mental telepathy, and then threaten me with brutality and accuse me of insanity because I say I am being tortured, or even because I say I am audibly telepathic; a fact known by millions of lying, dying Americans.
On the microcosmic level we see that torture, based on the bearing of false witness, is causing my beloved niece's brain to be fried with electric shock and my beloved nephew to be sent off to rot in a state institution; and I am seen as the bad guy in this scenario.
So to on the macrocosmic level, we see that torture of me based on the bearing of false witness on a national level has led, for example, to the success of the 9/11 attack which God's gift to me warned of well in advance, and the subsequent slaughter at home and abroad of lives, and the Republican American theft of the treasury of the United States of America.
What did the Earth die of, My Son? Lies, My Father, lies.
While I may or may not be important to this Zone of Time, America's torture-enslavement of me based on false witness is of critical importance.
This national bearing of false witness is the Gordian Knot of my enslavement. Like Alexander, I do no seek to untie the knot, I seek to cut it through and through with my sword. God will cut that knot for me.
Lies kill. Lies are killing my beloved niece Amber. Lies are killing my beloved grandnephew Ian. Lies are killing you, Dear Reader.
Why did my Old Pal and Editor God assign me this story today?
I think it is because God is going to save my beloved niece Amber and my beloved grandnephew, Ian; and damn the souls of those who would fry her brain and send him away to rot.
And I think God wanted me to record this action by God in this work before God carries it out.
Let's see how this plays out.
Now let's return to our story of Soldier Ghost.
In this installment we meet Soldier Ghost for the first time since we saw his fresh-dead body on the battlefield in the opening paragraphs of this story; and we find he does not like Tea, nor the situation he is in.
Recall that in our previous episode Tea was advised by the ghost of an ancient samurai to find a way to get the ghosts attached to him home, because if he did not they would drag him down.
Soldier Ghost, Part 8
Soldier Ghost, for his part, never really cared for Tea.
He had leaped upon Tea in some spasm of reaction he did not understand, and having done so he seemed glued to Tea and could not leave.
Soldier Ghost existed in a fitful, aching slumber most of the time, a slumber which he sought out in preference to awareness of his pitiful state
Soldier Ghost felt cheated.
He had been taught to expect Angels with trumpets but instead got this hellish attachment to what he found to be a repulsive person, smelling like cigarettes and whisky and fucking three times a day, and when he wasn't fucking or drinking he was pounding away on a typewriter in the glaringly lit office of United Press International in Tokyo; and nothing felt right; and somewhere inside him he knew his mother needed what he instinctively thought of as his "Goodbye Touch"; and all the other dead Grunts holding on to this prig (as he thought Tea to be) were starting to come to, moaning and lamenting even more than he.
Soldier Ghost, unripened Christian soul, began to think he was damned.
December came. Soldier Ghost was now five months dead. The agony of those who had loved him in life was now reduced to a constant, aching howl which, in one form or another, they would howl for the rest of their lives.
All the Grunt ghosts attached to Tea were also now awake and aware of being dead, suffering the same agonies as those of Soldier Ghost.
Tea's composure was beginning to wear thin. He had as yet found no way to communicate with these dead American soldiers.
Generally, he would pass through their zone daily when awakening, when he was least prepared to deal with them, and they would bombard him so with screeches and sorrows that he would hurry through that zone as quickly as possible.
In mid-month Soldier Ghost screamed at Tea as Tea passed by, "Are you Satan?"
Satan? Tea, a raggedy assed Asia newsman?
But this strange question brought about the breakthrough Tea was looking for. It was a clear sentence stating what Soldier Ghost was experiencing. It told Tea Soldier Ghost was a Christian soul in a state very much like madness.
Up to that point Tea had expected Soldier Ghost and the others to simply awaken to another state of awareness the dead awaken to, where it would not be so bad for them; as if the newly dead were like the newly born and a natural progression from infant to toddler to child to adult could be expected.
Maybe it was that way; and maybe five months was too soon for betterment to show in the souls of young men killed by the hot smacks of bullets and the hot slicings of shrapnel.
Damn, but it was hard baby-sitting, baby sitting those dead American soldiers.
Tea began a series of experiments, attempting to establish longer and more calming contact with the ghosts.
These experiments were sandwiched between the other events in Tea's life. He told no one about the ghosts. He sought no advice from literature or scripture. His instincts told him to keep quiet about the problem and solve it in his own way as soon and as quietly as possible.
Tea had no desire to be branded as a lunatic or a medium; and he knew the ghosts were drawing something from him, that he must become a road to somewhere for them because they were dangerously parasitic to him.
(Later, when Tea became broadly known as a ghost hunter, he was to propose that many forms of madness were the result of ghost adhesion, that many people who heard voices, for example, were actually hearing the voices of ghosts.)
The dangers the ghosts posed to Tea were nameless and unknown, but he knew they were there.
What would happen as the ghosts got stronger?
And the ghosts, like some double injustice, were beginning to hate Tea; he could feel their hatred rising up like sulphur steam from a volcano just thinking about erupting.
Tea found their state of anguish at being dead, compared with his own state of near rapture at being alive, was so grotesque to them that no matter what he said was taken as intentional torment.
That's why Soldier Ghost had asked him if he was Satan. A friendly smile would translate as an evil grin; a sincere "Are you in pain?" would seem to be cruel teasing.
Tea had detected at least half a dozen different voices of dead American soldiers attached to him, all insane with anguish and daily becoming more abusive of him.
He had enslaved them. He was torturing them. He had captured their souls.
At night, in his sleep, they began to creep into his dreams, and he would have to struggle toward wakefullness like an underwater swimmer attempting to break through the confining, killing ice of a winter river; or suffer their suffocating terrors.
Grasping for straws, Tea clutched a plan.
He took a page from wire service radio transmission of copy. The material to be sent out was first punched, encoded in dots, onto a ribbon of paper tape, and then transmitted. When stories or messages were not being transmitted a circle of paper tape was run, repeating constantly the name of the company, its call sign, and the place of origin of the transmission.
Tea decided to use calming repetition, the repeating message to be The Lord's Prayer, since it seemed hardly likely Soldier Ghost and the other dead American soldiers would interpret it as satanic.
It worked.
Tea sent the same broadcast four days in a row, thinking The Lord's Prayer word by word up to 30 times a day, beginning when he first became aware of waking up in the morning, and ending when he was falling asleep at night.
Each day he felt the ghosts becoming more attentive and less abusive.
On the fifth day he dialed in and said nothing. The zone seemed calm.
Then a new wrinkle appeared.
After a few seconds of blankness, no howling, no screeching, no cursing, no threats nor pleas, a clear, calm, Vietnamese-accented voice said, "You prayed me Union Two".
(To Be Continued)
Meanwhile, the USA, unaware it was about to eat the fire, passed through the 71st day of its last year.
posted by Virgil Kret at 7:34 PM
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