Past Live's is a collaborative, creative writing project, being compiled by various authors from different blogs. It is a series of fun and clever stories from some very talented authors. The basis for the story is a fictional character in Australia named David. In an attempt to understand and overcome a series of unexplained fears or phobia's, David undergoes PLR, Past Life Regression. While under guided hypnosis David experiences his prior life's.
If this is your first visit, you may want to begin the journey with Past Live's Part 1. Please note that as you read this story, you will be traveling to different blog site's for each new chapter. Feel free to leave a comment for each author and let us know what you think. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the journey through David's life's.
If you wish to take part in creating the journey, send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org .
The Kid saw the rat moving toward him. He rolled onto his back. And the little rat thought in his little rat mind, "Go to hell."
The last thing The Kid felt was the whiskers in his ear and a nibble .....
And everything faded to black.... there was a moment of crystal clarity ... of sanity ... a moment in which he knew he had screwed it all up .. his life had gone completely wrong ... he wondered what was gonna happen next ...
"David, David can you hear me? David, slowly come back toward my voice. As you come back, you will remember all you have learned."
David sat up, reaching to his ear, rubbing his palm into it vigorously, feeling as if he had just returned from a nightmare. "Oh my ear, I can't get rid of that tickle, that pinch." A shiver visibly went down his spine.
"David you are making some amazing progress, now we have another piece to that puzzle. How do you feel?" Dr. Harlowe stated with a smile.
"I feel fine, a little freaked, but fine. Dr. Harlowe, I want to go back to another life, can we do it now, today?"
"David, I'm not too sure we should go any farther today. Perhaps you should take a break for a week or two. I think you need to recuperate a little, you've been pushing yourself pretty hard."
"Dr. Harlowe, let me do this, I need to finish it. I know we are getting close to something. Feel so different, I can't explain it, but there seems to be something drawing me back. There has to be something I haven't seen yet, something important."
"All right David, take a moment to catch your breath and get something to drink. I'll have to get the recording equipment reset again."
"All right, I'll go out and get some fresh air and a drink of water, but I want to go on. Do you have any aspirin or something for a headache?"
"David I'm not sure that would be such a good idea if your serious about continuing today. It may hinder or even block your regression. In the next session I don't want you to go too far back, I'd like to keep you a litter closer to this life."
David went outside, and walked nervously around the parking lot, scratching his ear and trying to shake off the revulsion he felt. There was so much he had to sort through, so much he had experienced, yet there seemed to be more.
David thought to himself, "I can't believe how involved I'm getting in this. I was so skeptical at first, then I saw, experienced, felt, all those things. I can still feel each death, really feel, the sensations are so real! Maybe this is not such a good idea, no I can't stop now. There's something there, something that I need to see. But what is it, what can be drawing me in so completely?"
David went back into Dr. Harlowe's office, and sat down on the chaise lounge. He was suddenly uncomfortable, but couldn't understand why. David mentally calmed himself, shaking out his hand as if trying to fling something off. "I have to calm down, nothing will happen to me. I'm just going to go back to view the past, like watching a movie. Yes that's it, I will go back and watch the movie of my past life's."
"Are you ready to get started again David?"
"Yes, let's get on with it." David said with a frustrated tone, and a slight hesitation.
Dr. Harlowe raised one eyebrow in an inquisitive look "are you sure? You've never made a comment like that before."
"Yes, Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just a little nervous."
Dr. Harlowe started the recording equipment once again, and guided David into a hypnotic state. "David, I want you to go back, remember when Sassy left us? Try to find that time again."
David struggled on the couch, stretching his neck in an unusual manner. There was a look of pain and terror on his face. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!-------------------STOP"
"Very good David, now move forward in time, find your next Life. Look around, are you there yet?"
"Yes." David said in an accented child's voice.
"Very good, now, go forward, near the end."
David started shivering on the couch, and hugging his arms close to his chest. His breathes came in gasps.
"What do you see? what is your name? Can you tell me where you are." Dr. Harlowe asked.
In a gritty, thickly accented voice, David said "Ach, Mien Gott, I Kann not see anything, da vind est blowing da snow so hardt, I kann barely see my hand in front of my face." David held his hand up, squinting as if trying to examine it.
"My name est Lukas Bachmeier, ich am in da Colorado territories, a place da Indian's call Bayou Salado, It means Salt Swamp. It is a high mountain park, close to timberline, surrounded by mountains. ich bin travelingk to da Trading Rendezvous to sell my furs and pelts."
|Bayou Salado: The Story of South Park |
by Virginia McConnell Simmons
Read more about this book...
It was late in the season for such a storm, being early summer of 1833. If there was anything Lukas had learned over the years, it was to never underestimate the mountain weather. He had seen upwards of a foot of snow in July, in these very mountains. A heavy wet snow would fall, then, invariably, the wind would begin blowing. He had seen some of the worst blizzards of his life, right here in Bayou Salado
Lukas was wearing his winter buckskins, winter fur boots, buffalo robe and a hat, he had made from one of his bobcat pelts. He was a large man, 6 foot 1, 195 pounds, mostly carried in his muscular shoulders and chest. Conditioned by years of strenuous physical labor, he was possessed of uncommon strength. His face was lined and weathered, as if tanned leather, from a life-long exposure to the harshness of mountain life. He had deep intelligent blue eyes and sandy-red hair. His beard was medium length, unkempt, with hints of a red tint, and provided a partial insulation to the cold. Lukas carried a percussion cap muzzle loader, and a long tapered knife known as an Arkansas Toothpick for protection and hunting.
"Mein Gott, ist soo cold, dis vind just comes from novhere. I had just seen a stand of trees, before the storm became so strong. If I can get to them, I can make a verhüllen from their branches, to get da horses and mein self some protection from da vind. Schutzgott, let me find dem."
Lukas trudged through the snow, leaning hard into the wind, tugging the reins of the horses. The wind was blowing so hard he felt as if he may have to crawl. The horses were nervous, not liking the conditions, and it was against their nature to head into the wind. Lukas finally made it to the trees, luckily he found an earthen ledge with low trees above it. The wind already lessened by the trees, Lukas tied the horses and went to work.
He began pulling the branches together, and lashing them with rawhide strips. Then he took two of his elk hides from the pack saddle, and stretched them over the frame of live trees, creating a windbreak. Lukas led the horses to the protection of the wind break. While pulling them down and to the side, by their ears, he made them lay down. Lukas had trained them to do this, and they seemed to trust him. Lukas then laid down next to them, and pulled his three point blanket around him. The warmth from the horses would keep him from freezing, or getting hypothermia.
Lukas felt he had to stay awake until the storm was over. He occupied his mind by thinking back and remembering his parents. They had immigrated from Esson Germany, before he was born. His father, Klaus, had been a potato farmer. Lukas was born in Kentucky, on the family farm, late in the year 1799. What little schooling he received, he got at home from his parents.
Klaus had told young Lukas stories of the things that had happened when they first came to the Americas. A few years before Lukas's birth, Klaus's was a foreman on a plantation in Alabama. One of his duties was keeping the slave labor working, organized, and disciplined. Klaus and Lukas's mother, Hannah, lived on the plantation near the slave quarters. Klaus and Hannah did not agree with the owning of slaves, but did what they had to, in order to save up money for a farm of their own. They left the plantation when Klaus was ordered, but refused, to whip a slave woman who had let her daughter go running off to play with the plantation owners son. Both children had been found dead, face down in a mud puddle with bullet holes in their heads.
Lukas had grown up working on the small family farm, and hunting the local wildlife. When Lukas left home at age 15, he was determined not to be a farmer. He worked odd jobs in different areas of Kentucky. He had been a lumber jack, coal miner, and worked many other trades. Lukas signed up with the American Fur Company at the age of 20, and worked the Missouri water shed. Later, he became a free trader, and moved into the Rocky Mountain region. Lukas liked the area of the Colorado Territories, and set up various camps in the area. Some were merely lean-to's, others were natural caves, or a simple protective cove of trees. He would move between them with the seasons, and had done well in the fur trade.
Lukas, being a solitary man, not really liking groups of people, felt at home in the mountains by himself. The few times he had gone to settlements, it was solely to stock up on needed supplies, or to replace damaged or lost traps.
Lukas had traded with the Ute Indians a number of times, even living with them for one winter. He gained a respect for them due to the fact that they used everything, and wasted nothing, even the game they killed. They were a peaceful people unless cornered or challenged by a rival tribe. Lukas had heard their stories of a great battle between warring tribes, that had taken place not so long ago in this very mountain park. He hoped someday to see this battlefield, and wondered if he would even be able to tell it was a battlefield. Ute always carried their dead off to be buried in sacred burial grounds. The Warriors would be buried with their weapons, so they could defend themselves in the next life.
Hours later, when the storm died down and lessened it's force, Lukas let the horses up. After clearing the snow and surface pine needles off an old dead fall, he broke up some of the branches and started a fire. Building it up carefully to keep it burning, Lukas dug in the pack saddle for his coffee pot and makings. He filled the pot with snow, and set it close to the fire to melt. Once the fire was going strong, Lukas put larger pieces of wood on it. they were wet, and caused the fire to smoke heavily. Lukas disliked advertising his location with smoke, but he didn't think he could do anything about it. He needed the fire for warmth, and to cook a rabbit he killed while gathering wood.
By the time the storm had settled to a few wisps of wind, it was near dark. Lukas ate his rabbit, and stretched the hide for drying. He then banked his fire for heat, and laid down to sleep, it had been a long hard day.
Lukas was startled awake by someone grabbing his arms. No not someone, Indians, and not Ute's! He thought they were Apache's, but he had never seen any in this territory. There was an Indian holding each of his arms, and they started dragging him backward. Lukas was suddenly terrified, but he could not let it show. Apache's respected courage only, and had nothing but contempt for fear. They dragged him backward to a large tree, and attempted to pull his arms around the tree, behind his back.
Lukas had a sudden rush of adrenalin, and using his strength pulled the two Indians back around, trying to free himself. Struggling with them, he managed to pull them away from the tree, and back toward the fire. Lukas was trying to throw them off his arms so he could go for his knife, but they were like leaches, and would not release their grip. Had he not been so focused on freeing his arms, perhaps he would have seen the third Indian. He hadn't even been aware there was another, until he was struck over the head with the butt of a knife, knocking him unconscious.
Lukas awoke to a sever pain. His head hurt, but the real pain was coming from his feet. He looked around, and found himself tied to a tree by his wrists. They had been drawn around the tree behind his back, a fairly large tree, and tied tightly with wet raw hide. There was another, thick strip of wet rawhide tying his elbows backward and around the tree also. He knew that as the rawhide dried, it would shrink and probably break his arms, or dislocate his shoulders. He tried to shuffle around and pull free of the ties that bound him. When he moved, there was a searing, burning pain from his feet and ankles.
"Scheißdreck, they cut da back oft my ankles. I will not be able to get away even ift ich can break da rawhide." The Indians had moved the fire closer to his feet, if he stretched his legs out, his feet would be in the fire. "Donnerwetter it hurts!" Lukas struggled to keep his composure, and not give them the satisfaction of him crying out in pain and defeat.
These Indian's seemed to be enjoying the show, they were sitting across from him intently watching. One of them was going through his pack saddle, throwing his trade goods all over. He found an red heart shaped music box. The color seemed to intrigue him, trying to scratch at the enameled surface, he opened it. When the box opened, it started to play music. The Indian dropped it as if it was on fire, and jumped back with a startled look on his face. Lukas let go a laugh, and scowled at the Indian.
All three Indian's became very animated, and started speaking between themselves. Lukas had never heard the language before, but the fear on their face spoke volumes. What Lukas did not know is they believed he was a powerful medicine man to be able to cause such magic in his condition.
Two of them suddenly jumped and came at Lukas. One grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, while cutting a line along his forehead, and yanked Lukas's hair, scalp and all painfully off his head. Lukas began to scream out in pain, and the other Indian came over and grabbing his beard pulled his chin up. Lukas felt the knife, slice deep, through his neck.
Lukas could feel the blood running down his neck. He tried to scream, but the only sound that came was a sickly sounding gurgle. The third Indian that had remained sitting until now, got up and walked slowly toward Lukas. He drew Lukas's own knife from his belt, and drove it deep into Lukas's chest, pulling upwards. He then reached inside Lukas's open chest, and cut out his heart. With a wild terrifying war cry, he held the heart up for Lukas to see, as he died.
To read the Past Live's Part 11, you will be traveling back to Dr. Harlowe's office in Australia. David's next PLR session will be in a few days, so check back to find out where his past life journey takes him.
I had a lot of fun, writing this and hope you enjoyed it.