GYD Knowledge

August 5th, 2018 by Patrick Starks 

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On that day rain poured like no other. And as usual, people would flee like mice, that of which I had depicted them to be. However, there was no other place that I needed to go. The sound of rain calmed me, molded me, and about time I’d seen a clear day it was nothing but blinding, as the notorious Bane would say. But need not worry, he is not in this story, but another perhaps.

Next to me stood my mom. Her hair was that of crows, dark and slicked back, regardless if it rained or not. Her eyes were sharp and golden like a crispy crème doughnut, and her scent sweet like my favorite cotton candy—the blue kind in fact. She held my hand softly yet sternly as any mother would do their tatter todd. And never did she ever look down to verify if I was ok, for she was always that confident in my potential.

“You see that Oracle. Take a note of this,” said Mom. “Do all that you want in this life before this day, before it comes to you.”

During that time I didn’t understand, of course, what child would. Nevertheless, it would n’t be long before it would all make sense to me. And now years later I stand on that same rainy day like before, discouraged by the world I no longer wanted anymore. What was I supposed to do? I hadn’t found my purpose in life, and to be honest, I really didn’t care, I think. I just wanted to live my life and be free from all the judgment and titles, yet, how could any escape such a plastic world. You had to blend in, and that was exactly what I did.

You see, it had been years since I stepped into a graveyard, and for every time that I did I couldn’t help but feel paranoid and miserable all in one. Lights flickered around me and what I assumed to be mist or fog as well surrounded. Despite it all, I was too caught up in my past emotions. What mom told me had never left my mind. I wondered if she had the chance to do all she wanted, before her time to meet our maker or if she didn’t, because of me.

“Wipe those tears boy,” said a man through the wind.

It was a raspy one, something creepy, like a Camel smoking pedophile. I then asked who it was, hesitantly.

“I used to be something you know. Everyone had high hopes for me,” said the man.

I looked around. Not a soul was there, I could feel that, although, it was the graveyard after all.

“Who is it?” I asked. “What do you want?”

The wind then howled and the rain picked up, just enough to cause a flood, I feared.

“You mean you don’t remember,” said the man. “You don’t remember how I use to do that little airplane thing with you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? And where are you? Come out so I can see you.” I yelled.

And then it happened. From behind me, dirt lifted from the ground, right next to my mothers stone, it was my fathers. I’d sharted myself, just a little, but shut up, no one was around to tell about it. I was expecting a body to come out from underneath the ground, however, inch by inch there a book emerged from it. It was large, as big as a dictionary, however, I knew that it wasn’t for a dictionary had never looked so unique.
“Oracle. I am your father. However,” said the man. “I cannot show you my face. But, I can at least give you this. It was selfish of me to take this with me in the first place.”
I chuckled. He sounded a little like Dark Vader, sorry, I mean Darth Vader—I know how you Star Wars fans get about that. Nevertheless, I walked over and reached down to pick it up. And just before making contact a hand reached up to grab me. It was bony and soggy like a wet slice of bread for it had obviously been deteriorating. It was repulsive and smelt unbearable, although, part of me wondered if it was myself.

The man, my supposed father, then laughed. “I’m sorry but that was just priceless.
“Ok that’s it I’m getting the hell out of here,” I said.
As I turned my back to walk away the book hit me square in the center of my back. It hurt a little but also felt really good. I hadn’t been able to get the kink out of my back for weeks now–who’d ever thought a book would be my greatest chiropractor.
“Take that with you and study it,” said the man. “I’m sure that you will find your purpose through it.”

“What is it exactly?” I asked.

I Knew that it was no average book. And as crazy as life already was the last thing that I needed to worry about was to carry around some cursed book. Besides, I still wasn’t quite sure if the man was, in fact, my father.
“That my child is the book of knowledge,” said the man. “Everyone in this graveyard has written down one piece of advice for the one who reads it, something they learned during the time they were still on the planet. When done they must return it back so that another deserving of it can seep into this knowledge.”

I then flipped through the pages. They were all blank.

“Hey there’s nothing in here,” I said. “Where is my mom’s advice?”
“Impatient generation,” said the man.
“Where is it?” I yelled. “I don’t have time for riddles old man.”

“Your mother, my wife, has not written in it yet. And the reason those pages are blank is so that little impatient boys like you don’t speed read through it. Every piece of information you must embody and learn from. You cannot do so flying through it. It’s not a race. “

I’d bicker with the man more, but this time got no response. And after half an hour of bickering at him, I would move along.
I put the keys in the ignition and started the car and left it in park. I was still uncertain if this was all just a dream or a reality. And ironically, the song DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC would play in the background as If someone was trying to tell me something. I started driving.

About halfway to home and I kid you not, that same song still played. Nevertheless, the drive was good, the road was clear. I looked to my right, to the passenger seat. The book was so unique that I just couldn’t stop looking at it. It jumped but I paid it no mind, I was on a bumpy road after all. But then what it did next was something I nor anyone could ignore.

The spaghetti straps that once wrapped around it started to unwind as if someone had stuck a fork into it. It opened, and from then on my life would change. The first page had opened, the first saying.

As read:
“The Graveyard. The place some say where knowledge is lost, and some gone too soon for those roads they had crossed. Nevertheless, that same knowledge remains embodied in your DNA, coded to your core like the apps in PDA’s. In my day such did not exist, leaving my mind in peace, and never in a twist. My knowledge to you whoever reads this is to live your life full and not allow yourself to drown, to feel the beat of your heart and recognize all that has been found. Ding, ding, let us begin your round.”

The book then closed back. I pulled over. I tried to open it again, but it was as if it was glued shut. As I continued to drive back to a place I would be in peace, everything I knew of life would unravel and release, the answers to questions I’d ponder.

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