It's the horrible time of the year. NaNoWriMo. And I'm going to complain about it today. So if you don't like complaining, please don't read a few next lines. There's something really weird in this post. And I beg you, please believe me. I'm not lying, I thought at first that I'm hallucinating, but when I think about it... It comes clearer and clearer. It wasn't a dream, hallucination or an imagination. It was as real as I am. Like the people around me.
My story is kind of a horror story, but not like always. This is from the serial killer's point of view. My killer is an actor in New York, he's loved by everyone, though he plays always the murderers. That's part of the explanation why he kills. He tries to get into his character and also he thinks he's god. He sacrifices people to himself. One of key victims is his sister, whom he had driven to mental illness by torturing her. His parents think he's an angel on earth, just like everyone else. Except his italian servant Nelsia, who senses the strangest things and tells to her collegue Waldemar.
But my problem is that I hate Gregory, my main character. He's the most disgusting thing I've ever written, I hate that something like him came from me. He's a nechrophile, serial killer, rich and sick. I just want to throw up, he disgusts me so much. I want to kill him, but also I want to write about a killer who doesn't get caught. I just don't want the killer to be this awful.
I want to write about beautiful things, I want to be kind and loving. I like this world, it's really beautiful, but my mind is so dark I'm afraid of myself. I've been praying a lot lately, not because of my NaNo, but because last friday (8.11.) I saw the most confusing thing.
In Seinäjoki church there were Amazing Grace Conference, where my crush invited me (so I went, of course :'D) and when the band had played their two first songs, the weird feeling struck me. I barely could breathe, it was like the first time I felt God and Goddess, but this was a stranger. First I saw in front of me my friend, who was murdered two months ago. He turned to me and said:
"It's okay. Everything is better now, I'm safe and it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm in a better place, don't feel guilty about anything. We just hadn't chance to meet. I know you cared about me"
Before I could ask, he was gone. I took a shivering breaths and tried to figure things out, when someone touched my elbow. I saw a hand, which belonged to my friend, who died two years ago. I saw him, I felt him and I heard him. He whispered to my ear:
"I know. I know everything. It's time to let go", a few minutes I felt their hands in my hands. I cried and smiled and talked to them.
I didn't ask them, they told me who brought them there. They said it to me and pointed to the big screen above the stage. And there stood a man in leather pants, leather jacket and with boots. He had a long hair and he looked excatly the same we have seen in a paintings of Jesus Christ. My friends whispered to me that Jesus brought them there. I couldn't believe. But he just stood there, stared to my eyes and talked to me. He told me about people over there and about my crush. He showed me the protector of my crush. A golden character, which I've seen many times before. He asked me to tell him about it.And I did what he asked, he's a friend of God and Goddess you know. And all the gods, so I didn't see a reason to say no.
Later I've been thinking, why he chose me. There was hundreds of people, who had given their lives to him. So why choose the only pagan in the building? The only one who doesn't want to turn into christian? Honestly, I'm doubting myself. I'm not crazy, I've been tested and all. I'm so confused, because I know something like this can happen to people, but me? No. In rituals I've had a connection to gods, but none of them have ever talked to me.
That weekend, when I got home, I locked into my rooms. (In the new house I have my own bedroom, livingroom and bathroom) I laid on my bed and rose only to go bathroom. I ate as little as I could. I was so shocked I trembled and cried. The whole weekend. I couldn't listen to music or watch movies, because I was afraid of something. I don't know what, but not because of Jesus. It's been over a week and I still start to cry and tremble when thinking about it.
Goddess and God have helped me, I feel it. I can go to school and act normally, but still I think about what happened at the church. I don't know what to do or who I should talk about this. I want to speak with someone who believes me and can help me. I want to understand why this happened to me. I'm afraid to meditate, because I don't know what I'd do if he came to me again.
Please, don't think I'm lunatic or psycho or gone mad or something like that.
I know I'm not, but I'm afraid.
Someone help me, please.