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Fishing in Kent.
never really took that long for Paula to identify an imposter in her childhood home. She ceased in her search almost immediately. Cindy asked her softly how old she was now? "Seven!" Said, Paula, without further prompt. She exchanged her broad white smile for a more, apprehensive frown, as though the picture in her mind presented her with some problems.
Cindy had listened to my accounts earlier, and decided, if Paula really had been experiencing abductions, then the logical search pattern must be that of her home. Cindy asked Paula who that person was? She insisted on details, but only if she could remember them. Paula said he's a small man, not much bigger than her friends, and he stands over by the doorway, the light hallowing around his body in a golden aura.
Cindy asked Paula to explain what he does. She encouraged her to open-up more and describe in detail what this person in her home wants. "He speaks to me, then enters the bedroom further," said Paula, her voice still timidly uncertain of events surrounding her in this unconscious state. "I think he wants me to go with him..." She added.
I frowned at that point. There was so much I wanted to ask her: I wanted to push the interview, but knew Cindy from old. She wasn't the type of woman you interfered with, well, not without getting your head bitten off anyway.
So I remained reticent as events gradually unfurled themselves in a renaissance of revivaled youth. What I surveyed was a revolution of hidden emotions, long forgotten, and now osmosisly seeping to the surface. It might be easy for others to repudiate attempts to discover the truth, but until anyone has actually witnessed such a fragile operation, I would challenge them to prove a more effective method of human discovery.
To watch Cindy nurture Paula's most delicate thoughts and emotions, and tempt the very essence of her being into the open, was a remarkable experience.
"Do you go with him?" Asked Cindy, as she made clinical notes.
Paula admitted she did. Paula confessed lifting from her bed to follow him, out around, then across the landing and down the stairs, along the hall towards her back garden. She replied, as Cindy questioned her on her parents' home's locality, where they lived and how to describe it?
Paula said they lived in Kent, "out in the country side, surrounded by gravel pits and farms." I sprang-up in my seat.
If Paula had told me this when I questioned her at her home, I might have made more sense of her encounters. David claimed to have been involved with UFO activity around the Kent area, while he was fishing at a local gravel pit. I sat there trying desperately to attract Cindy's attention. Much to her annoyance I snapped my fingers at though calling a waiter.
She turned, offering me one of her cold stares, one I had witnessed quite a few times in our past. It was the kind of icy stare reserved for moments like this, when I had either annoyed, or managed to upset her lifestyle, which I might add, I did quite often in our early years as friends. She turned on me.
I scribbled some illegible note on a small piece of paper and handed it to her. Cindy studied it briefly, before posing my question as though it her own. She asked Paula if there was a craft involved then, in them early years of her traumatic experience? Paula said the black craft was there, always obvious in the sky, its sleek black triangular configuration almost like leather against the velvet of night.
I was slowly starting to let her words ferment in my own mind with some kind of candour I'm not used to. This old sceptic was becoming more and more convinced something very strange was operating in my country, and I didn't particularly like what developed. It seemed almost undignified, to think some outside force could conduct such blatant acts of indignity against the people of this land, and in some respects, that angered me.
I couldn't help but feel, so many men had fought and died for so little freedom, that the last remaining flicker of independence should be usurped in such an unfeeling manner. It sounds silly, but I felt disgusted by it all. What gives anyone, or anything the right to play loose with another's liberty? It makes no difference whether they come from down here, or up there, everyone has the right to freedom without interference.
Below is a list of chapters for the Metaphysics Anthology. The book itself is designed as abit of fun! One man thinking out loud. You should not see it as science, merely enjoy the imagination of the human mind in full swing.
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