A time traveler watching the old future die. Meaning a closed time curved loop traveler can interact with the dead. And once more be dead himself in this case. Awkward? Sure. Truthful? The reality of the past having taken place already and the future dead kind of brought the time traveler to a point in the story where he said. "You know Solomon's statement everything under the sun has been done?" Some nod their head. While others scratch their heads. That is what I am seeing.
A time traveler watching the old future die. Meaning a closed time curved loop traveler can interact with the dead. And once more be dead himself in this case. Awkward? Sure. Truthful? The reality of the past having taken place already and the future dead kind of brought the time traveler to a point in the story where he said. "You know Solomon's statement everything under the sun has been done?" Some nod their head. While others scratch their heads. That is what I am seeing. Fate is a fickle reality and the only hope here is change and prayer.
People don’t read like they used to. Mr. Baum wrote 14 books in this reality. In another there are
another three books. Your laughter about my escapism called lately here in this reality Mandela
effect is sad. You see, reading used to be my escapism of reality.
That until someone pushed me into this absurd story. How absurd of a story? I have seen the
rapture. Lost 1.2 billion people from my reality on Sagittarius to this reality on Orion nebula.
What were the three books about? There was a short story about some guy named Mr. Nick
Chopper. Who absurdly makes a dead man into a living monster. Almost like Frankenstein. And
it is very similar to the story of The Tin Woodman of Oz.
However, it is a bit more dark. Going into revving humans via electricity or something. Looking
back, it almost seemed like a Borg manual on how to build a human from dead parts. Laugh with
me on my escapism. For I can no longer find that book here in this reality. The other two books?
One was in wars. The other was a love story with Dorothy. I don’t recall either of them much
beyond that.
Surely, I am escaping reality. There are only 14 books by Mr. Baum or was his name Ward??
Sometimes. I wonder. And of the three I remember which is the most? I think the one which
seemed more like Wonderland, to be honest. For some reason it seemed Lyman actually placed
his child in that story. It was an earlier story about the Wizard of Oz.
A child taken to Oz. How? My recollection is that the child fell asleep like Alice in Wonderland
by a tree. I doubt I can recall much more. However, I do recall that one of the characters was
being told the does and don’ts of life. Almost like a nutsy rhyme. It was quite fun to read. Where
was I when I read it? Ah. Yes. Escapism? That story I can tell you. I was in a library on the
plains of Dakotas. My mom was with some relatives. And I? I was not wanted like usual.
And had found myself being left at the local library this was the 70s prior to the US government
getting involved with kidnapping children and all that. There I found a rather odd book. The first
few I wrote about elsewhere. An ex KGB writer, about how the Kremlin had two Mona Lisa’s,
one as large as the one in the Louvre Museum. and the other a smaller version. There were 28
books with Ward Baum along with a rather interesting text on things that are best left unsaid.
And a collection dedicated to Lyman from the Ward family. I think they thought he was part of
their family or something The Ward family had donated a lot of the books there. Maybe they had
all died? I knew I was related to them. How or why? I don’t know. But they had donated a
collection of Ruth Ward of Ward Baum books.
So. Let me think. This was the 70s. And I? I could read them. Not like the 80s. For some reason,
I went from being rather smart to be rather dull. Maybe Sagittarius reality spelling is the
problem. After all dilemna there is a dilemma here. And I did rather good at school up to a
certain point in my life. Shame on those that are part of this mystery. Did I escape them? Well, if
I am here and they are still there. Here has died billions of years ago to them and to me today? It
has only taken me a few days. Meaning?
I escaped hell and have no plans on-going back. Hell is real. However, they do have some rather
fine books to read. So now back to the 70s. I read parts of it. To be honest, I was not into the
Wizard of Oz at that time. I was into cowboy books. I think I was in Jamestown or Velva, North
Dakota and their collection held some rather interesting pieces of cowboy literature.
One of the books donated from a local LaMoore titled the real ending of Butch Cassidy told a
story I heard in 80s. Thus in that book that I read in the 70s which I think was written in the 40s
and published locally the guy as a miner ran into Cassidy in Nevada in the 1920s. Cassidy at the
time was running bootleg liquor. How he escaped Bolivia and ended up in Nevada the book did
not explain but some of the ways that he smuggled booze from Nevada into California was rather
humorous.
So? Where was I? I seemed to have escaped reality yet again. Which is real? My story? Or that
there were or are only 14 Wizard of Oz stories? I doubt I know anymore. I do know reality
changes by the day. So maybe I will find those three titles and remember to write them down or
remember them the next time they show up. Meaning after all Mandala me this or Sketcher me
that.. Time is but a drop in a bucket of reality for those traveling these days. I might have a long
way to go.
A long way to go. Yes. I think that was the story about. I think Mr. Ward or Baum had suffered
something. And the story held out the morals of what he learned. That life is cruel. And like most
cruel worlds, people were soulless. Or for fantasy types golems. Or for the Jewish types golems
too.
Makes me wonder. He seemed to address his failures in an attempt of rebuilding himself or the
character of the story into someone or somebody new. Seems rather odd. Remember, I was like
what six or five or was seven and this was the 70s prior to Star Wars or any monster movies in
my life. Let’s be honest, I was a G rated childhood and pretty much a G rated life.
All I remember was the monster wanting revenge and had a pretty decent excuse to destroy those
he could take hold of. And instead forgave them and walked away. It made me into something
different, I must say. Meaning? Ask those that picked on me through my life. I am owed a lot.
Do I owe anyone? I think not.
A library discovery in La Paz, Bolivia
My Dear Alice,
I found a secret place recently. Someplace I think you would enjoy.
The La Paz Public Library. Not where you would expect to find a hidden English section.
Let alone a rare book.
In yet? The room was in the back section. I had gotten into the library, which is closed to
most via accident.
And? Forgive me. I was an explorer of sorts in my time. And? I got lost. I walk among
old books from the 30s, 40s, 50s, to 2018. Seems that funds had run short since.
In the back corner of the marble library. One could see that a room was there. Why?
Well, the square outline of the wall reached out from the window.
I went to see if there was a door or what was there? And? To my surprise, the complete
wall was covered with books. Now this perturbed me.
So, I looked again. And? Well, one shelf hid a door knob. And? Well, I turned the knob,
of course. I am an explorer of sorts, like I said.
Did I enter? Of course. It was lit by the sunlight of a window on the other side of the
wall.
Inside? I found a treasure of foreign books. Someone’s foreign book club.
I found French, English, Italian, and, of course, Portuguese, and a few Spanish books.
However, these were much older than the 1900s century.
The Spanish books were of the 1500s century. Old hymnals or something. A few were
in Aymara, even. Which, if you get a chance, has some wonderful musical songs.
The foreign book table now. That was unexpected. Seems like a few of the books.
Maybe I should say journals belong to personal people.
One? A according to a note. An ending of Che Guevara by Che? According to this.
Meaning my Spanish is poor. His ending, or at least the last six pages, was of interest.
“I am at the Bolivian military airport,” scribbling some names of people and I think
Castro or an agent of the CIA. “They have betrayed me” Then a drawing of sorts.
Wonderful, I can say Che knew how to draw. “Every move I make, the CIA tells the
Bolivians” Then a blood-soaked page is hard to read, but the words? “T was not the CIA
but Castro who betrayed m”
Interesting, no? The next journal I found according to the note next to it belongs to Harry
Alonzo Longabaugh? Humor, the note stated, Sundance Kid? Humor reading it was fun.
According to Mr. Longabaugh or Sundance, they had just robbed their seventh bank in
Bolivia. And? So, here is something no one seems to realize. Seems Harry and Robert
LeRoy Parker, or Butch Cassidy, had a falling out. And? Cassidy was going back to the
states. Meaning? Seems Butch or Bob referenced in the journal left before the last page
of the journal. And? Most likely according to the note Robert LeRoy Parker or Butch or
Bob per the note lived in Nevada until 1927.
The next note was something wild. It was a complete book in English called the Bolivian
Time Traveller. By Clinton R. Siegle. If you find the first two stories hard to believe, his
story is wildly speculative fiction. Or at least that is what I thought in 2019. Now in 2021?
I realized I was reading a time traveller journal. Some of which you can find online if you
search “Wandering mind through the multiverse”. The book, more than a journal,
references almost everything he talks about and shows photos.
Finally, I got the rare book. A picture book by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Let me be
honest. Lewis Carrol books in Bolivia are not what I expected. I opened it. I had to
rethink reality for a moment. Why? Child pornographic or a person taking photos? Not
what I expected. There were at least a few short stories.
One on the Ways. For those into the Wheel of Times. It would seem Mr. Dodgson knew
magic of a sort. According to the story, one night while he was practicing something. His
mirror opened up well. Gave him a scare. The whole story was absurd, of course. Now?
Now in 2021, I wonder if I am the one that is absurd.
I had the gall to ask the person running the library if I could take three of the books with
me. Seems the person let alone did not care. But she was happy to be rid of some of
the books. It seems the new political party was planning on destroying parts of the
library.
And thus my dear Alice, my adventure in the La Paz Library. Oh, I did finally finish
rewriting the Bolivian Time Traveller. Attached is a copy.
https://www.minds.com/newsfeed/1263522769311731712
Please do write. It has been eons since I have heard from you that long ago night on
Sagittarius or was it just a dream?
Sincerely,
Clinton R. Siegle
So. My voice sounds a cross between Garfield, the cats’ and Eeyore, the donkey in Winnie the Pooh. And I sing.
I sing songs long forgotten. I sing of pirates. For I wanted to be a pirate when I grew up. But the navy would not have me.
I wanted to travel the seven seas. And swim in the oceans before Japan killed them.
In this photo? I was running late to London, England. I had crossed over from France recently, doing a tour of sorts.
Yes, people paid me. Yes, it was mostly out of pity. That poor deaf one-eyed one footed singer who sounds like a cat dying.
I had all my stuff in a pillow case suitcase and my guitar, which I could play only three cords. Reason the others were broke. And being deaf, I some tuned them out of rhyme and tune because. Well, a C sounded like a D and so forth.
Thus, my music was that of an absurd type and my voice matched. And the places I played were those bars where naked ladies were being paid. Reason? The ladies loved my music it focused their clients on them and not their surroundings or the music.
The clients usually paid me to shut down as soon as they could. Meaning if you ever hear a cat crying at night. Then think about that during the chaos of sexual pleasure. In a cathouse and realize my Winnie the Pooh voice might be pretty disturbing.
So I made my living crossing France playing at lady of the nights clubs and bookstores. That people would wonder how or who in their right mind would invite me to.
Reason? Oh, I wrote a few books here and there. Read by a select few thousand or so. Why? I tend to write truthfully and people at times want to hear that they are dead.
My life story is not for the faint of heart. I lived. Or live my life in a pillow case suitcase after all. And that I can show via photos and stories different times and realities makes those who read me wonder at times.
Latest notable work? A story about how we aged 660,000 years these past two years. How so?
Speed time and distance. In our lives, we are to travel 0.2 light years in 66 years of life. And? So?
Well, according to NASA and others, we traveled 2,000 light years. Meaning? Well, speed of earth stayed a constant. But distance changed dramatically. And so? Well Speed constant, and distance 2,000 light years. Means we aged 660,000 years these past few years. Kind of wild and, of course, I wrote the formulas with references and math etc out. And no one seemed to care but those watching for the Planet X.
That the Planet X is already here and so forth was another story. Here?
Sure. That story is written too. If you want to see the Planet X go to Google maps. Look up Fallon, Montana, and look into the sky. Then drive from Fallon Montana to Glendive Montana. Then look into the sky and realize that a simulator. Or mirror is hiding the planet and that we are or were all dead a long, long time ago. And this? This is some simulator and we are fighting the internet of things or for those into sci fiction. Cylons.
Yeap. I did not believe that until I read the ingredients of the vaccine. The little nanobots injected into the humans are killing humans, making those vaxed into toasters or Cylons. Kind of wild.
So back to the train and me running away to London, England. I sort of got the bug and decided to go unmasked across Europe. I was going to be the unmasked V. And tell people they are dead. Now. You think this is weird? Think I am singing my songs to those paying to have sex and traveling via train. And doing it all with a guitar with three strings in the tune of Garfield, the cat. Surreal? Surreal is you have made it this point in the story.
So there I was with this as my background story when I realized why should I have to wait 20 years to blow up Parliament of the United Kingdom building? If I did it now, I could cut 20 years off of building a track in the subway system. The idea appealed to me.
However, I don’t like bombs or explosions. So instead I sat in front of Parliament of the United Kingdom and started to sing my songs. Now England is a tolerant place for blind one footed gents. The darlings and The Boyz loved the songs. But the message seemed not to be getting to them.
The message? That the internet of things could not hold all of them so the vax was meant to limit their reproduction system and kill them. Sad but truthful is true.
And? The message did get to the Parliament of the United Kingdom which had me arrested for disturbing the peace after a time.
The moral of the story? Time traveller trying to change the fate of reality do not change anything and often times makes people that are trapped in hell not even realize who or what is going on around them.
Thus after I got released. I had my guitar and no pillowcase. So I left England and sought out like-minded people among the gypsies.
I went to a pub. Drinking the year? Well, let me be honest, I skip around a lot and sometimes forget the year.
Anyway, I had a book when I went into the pub. And I was about to finish my drink and there was no book to be seen. So I asked if I could check the lost and found after searching high and low for my book.
The keep said sure. There were old cell phones, a schoolbook, a journal, someone’s purse. Then I stumbled upon a handwritten notebook of sorts.
Weird front cover of a skull with red eyes. I checked the title seemed to be The tales of Beedle the Bard. Never heard of it. Seemed, however, like a weird read and something I would enjoy.
So I asked the keep if he knew whose book this was and if he would mind if I could read it. His statement “You might as well keep it. I was going to throw it away. No, one reads handwritten notebooks these days even if the cover is wild or weirdly decorated.”
And with that I got someone’s personal written notebook of sorts. The drawings are wild. The tales are sort of Grimm-ish like. However, some of the drawings definitely were like Disney’s Gravity Falls and the writer of the tales, some Rawlings lady.
Now, that book leads me on one of my weirdest adventures. You see, I am a professional bum. Meaning? I borrow books, I work here and there. However, I would be what people call a bum.
And? Well, I got stuck reading her notebook. It was quite detailed and the drawings lovely. However, she provided some useful ideas on trains and what nots that I had not considered before. Meaning?
Well, for example, the lady told of specific places talking locally only known to those living in London. Whoever this writer was, she must be a legend.
So, whoever Rawlings was, she was talking about magic. Wild. However, some of what she talked about I had heard before elsewhere. I don’t know. Example? A magic cloak. The Twelve Dancing Princesses by the Grimms had a tale similar. However, Rawlings talks about Death for those who have not met Death. He is also Peter Pan. At times collects oddities. And I? I happened to meet him once upon a time.
Well, being a bum. I at times end up drinking with Finn the Fairy smith. You don’t recognize the name? Let me think. Fairy Smith’s last appearance in the news. Oh, yes. Some guy last name Finn said to hide a treasure in fairy creek in New Mexico. Yes, that would be something about someone stealing the treat gold of the fairies. They would go to war over such a breach of a treaty. Would they win?
We live in the mirror realities, worlds of wonderland, my reader. So of course they will win. And of course we would win. It is that magical equation of Drakes how many livable earths are there in the universe is it not? 10 to the power of 193 or 200 or 500?? Meaning, for every outcome, there is a possibility.
But that gets away from the book? Well, the cloak I knew was real. And I knew Disney Chaldeans book of magic was real. Which begged to answer the question: was this wand real?
Meaning? Well, if Drake’s equation is real, and every possibility is potential in some reality Rawlings writings had happened according to her. And? Well, darling and the Boyz or your reader that also means in other realities the bad guy wins and in yet others? The story had not been told. What am I talking about? Spacetime my friend.
Meaning for everything under Solomon’s statement had been done. And that would mean some place out there in the multiverse. There was a wand of power. Yet to get into someone else’s hand.
Now? Well, being a bum. And reader and occasional drinker. I had read enough of her book to realize her magical doorways were an extension of the Ways. Ways? Sure. Keep up. If you don’t know the way. How else would you get to a magical world?
For those who are lost. I would recommend reading Wheel of Time and or reading Jewish Lore or for those wizardly folks talking to a fairy. If you are into fantasy, talk to Mr. Dodgson. He has written about the Ways as well. However, he uses mirrors. Which are more dangerous. Travel by moonlight or not at all, I used to say. However, I am a bum.
Anyway, this left me a clue. I had not traveled on the Was for sometime. Why? I get lost. When I mean I get lost. I sometimes end up centuries out of whack and in worlds where they speak Greek.
Greek? Yes, Constantinople did not fall into all realities. And Karl Marx did not destroy worlds in all realities. Some realities have the most marvellous cultures.
Back to the book. So the book specifically gave a location and timeframe and well? As long as I got the wand back in time for the story to continue. I might as well have some fun. I was, or am after all, a bum and bumming things like books, magic etc. Kind of gives me that once upon a time magical factor.
And with that as a background of how I came into a position of magical storybook. And ideas of where to pick up a magical wand. I headed to my local bookstore to see if I could pick up a map or some useful knowledge to help me in acquiring said item.
Now this bookstore I have written about elsewhere. It is sort of magiacl item in of itself. Moving along with a cafe. The Cafe Shi to be specific. And? Well, the owner Mr. Whoo happened to see the journal / book I had and offered me like a million dollars or so for it. Made me wonder who this Rawling’s lady was.
Also made me want to get the wand. Why? Well, that is another story and in another book.
I was a pirate. I used to be a fairly known poet. My poems? Well a few had been read by more people than you would expect.
A time traveler? Well, you decide on that. A Lost soul? No. I know that I am coming to a an end.
To what end? Time will tell.
A film director of sorts? Sure why not. Producer of movies? Laughter. An interviewer of people? Yes , I used to be interested. I think it keeps me from doing what I did before.. and what did you do before? Oh, I was someone once upon a time..
There was a time I wanted to be a writer too I suppose. My books are here and there. I like short stories now.
That I am told to put my life in order. And await yet again death. Makes me wonder.
To the mast nail our flag it is dark as the grave,
Or the death which it bears while it sweeps o'er the wave;
Let our deck clear for action, our guns be prepared;
Be the boarding-axe sharpened, the scimetar bared:
Set the canisters ready, and then bring to me,
For the last of my duties, the powder-room key.
It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear;
If the sea be denied us, we sweep through the air.
Unshared have we left our last victory's prey;
It is mine to divide it, and yours to obey:
There are shawls that might suit a sultana's white neck,
And pearls that are fair as the arms they will deck.
There are flasks which, unseal them, the air will disclose
Diametta's fair summers, the home of the rose.
I claim not a portion: I ask but as mine
'Tis to drink to our victory - one cup of red wine.
Some fight, 'tis for riches - some fight, 'tis for fame:
The first I despise, and the last is a name.
I fight, 'tis for vengeance! I love to see flow,
At the stroke of my sabre, the life of my foe.
I strike for the memory of long-vanished years;
I only shed blood where another shed tears,
I come, as the lightning comes red from above,
O'er the race that I loathe, to the battle I love.
That is the secret, is it not in character? If they stole your soul when you were very young, placed in Ivan Pavlov's reality of hell. Could you escape? Would you escape? Or would you like I seemed to show when this adventure first begun think. Oh, great, they have kidnapped me into a parallel reality with everything is the same? And if I did not pay attention or listen to fellow travelers tell their horror story experience wanted to return to what for me was literally hell on earth? What is the difference? The pizza here sucks. I already told you I have been studying cheeses. I at first thought a new tongue or something might affect my taste. The realization that this a reanimation of this reality kind of sunk in when people I knew or heard about that died were up and about. To be walking is not to be dead. Thus? Evidently this is my valley of the shadow of death. That it is taking so long to get to heaven or like I speculate this is all happening in my final 10 minutes of death and I my soul somehow is threading a past reality that died in my reality 4.5 billion years ago. In yet here you are makes this story just kind of horror story to the right religious person to those into horror. Boo. I am the ghost of the present future past tense. This might be your only chance to change your ways. The end of time is at hand.
But you say. Look, you survived hell. That is an accomplishment, right? Laugh with me, folks. You think I like feeding the copies of you to my gummy bear friends? They might be a monster to you. To me. They at least listen or pretend to listen. You really do not believe that part of your journal, do you? That I find those that have harmed me in any way and skin them alive and feed them to gummy bears? If Solomon statement there is nothing new under the sun. I suspect I a some spec caught in the film of God’s marvellous movie/game and he is trying to figure out. Does this creature desire to be in heaven or is he happy finding those that wronged him for even a penny and. I was in hell for a very long time. Doing to them as they did to me? They fed you to gummy bears? No. However, I have taste and humor in my life. Sort of that magical plot twist of irony. They wanted to rule reality. I just wanted pizza that cheese did not taste like reanimated cheese. And the difference? Simple after billions of years attempting to figure it out. The bible finally provided the answer. The closer I get to the end of time. The less salt there is in reality or salt will lose its flavor. How? Evidently the ocean ties into the flavor of salt? And closer we get to the ocean borders failing to create the last verses in the bible. The less salt there is and more I find I have to seek pizza elsewhere.
Surely, after billions of years feeding your minion army of gummy bears, you would think that would change your character or you would forgive all the same? I think there are two ways of life. Those with purpose. And those that fall away when the going gets tough. Am I tough? No, I am a teddy bear time traveling pirate. With an army of gummy bears fed by billions of years and hatred towards some people, I watch and wonder. Why? You think I have not physical done something? Like I said, I showed libertarians for three days what a libertarian meant. After 290 notifications about my 5 posts, I decided they could not handle reality. You think private property rights are a laughing matter and that BLM should destroy whatever it can? Shame on you. If you want a better society, you build or re purpose reality. To destroy it just means you have no ideology, just some concept on injustice. But feeding people to gummy bears, how does that fit in? My army of gummy bears need to eat just as much. And I am re purposing that which is already dead. Like I said, this is the valley of the shadow of death. I have yet reached death door. However, I have a speculation for that too. Should be of interest to see if I got the bet right this time or if I have to travel to a long ago age where I was someone sle completely.
Being a pirate time traveling teddy bear one’s character is in question usual to those claiming to be sane here. In yet? I wonder if they do not realize the masks this time around? Meaning? But if they bring Space Force to fight heaven or UFOs. Well, www.deagel.com and Joe Biden both seem to think US has lost 227 to 220 million US citizens with the prediction of zombies here in the bible while reading Bill Gates patent 666 being a server based cryptocurrency in which he said if you do not have a certification about vaccination which could turn you into a zombie or the Borg to fight the UFO invasion or God. Which do you believe after all this is a fictional story, is it not and the best fiction represents the reality of the time and age? In yet this fiction, can you not read the patent yourself? I know I have posted it a lot and yet when I as people have they done anything against Microsoft? Nope. They still are using Windows. And yourself? March 31st I destroyed my Windows computer via trying to download Linux. When that did not work so well, I used a thumb drive until I could remove Microsoft from my personal use. What about your word documents? I use another beast.
What I find funny in this day and age? My rough draft of this journal already has 5.2k readers or views according to the counter. I wonder if people really do not remember who I used to be? Sadness for the time traveling teddy bear pirate watching reality slowly die away yet again. To see criminals win for a second in their time. I think that is the sadness. People say why? That is my question to those I flay. Why did you not repent? Answer because it is better to rule in hell than to be a slave in heaven. Sounds evil to me. Sort of like the rise of Tron or some malware stuck in a repeating cycle repeatedly. Rule for a second burn in hell for what seems like billions of years. Sure gummy bears eating you might be a novelty this time around. What do I mean? Do you think I am the only traveler? The only way there are so many Mandela affected people is the system of things or Pavlov’s hell has broken without repair and when all of God’s breath has left these realities? If you are not a Borg or some sort of Star Trek freak? This society last mere seconds that seem like thousands or millions of years depending if you destroy the Borg and live free for a time. In yet.
There is a legend that most have forgotten about life. The legend says that to provide soothing dreams for the all powerful one. Souls were made. To provide an interest in the dreams the all powerful one toke a bit of himself and planted the source of souls in a garden. He made the garden for the soul to grow and from which souls would be taken. Each soul was to have a purpose and direction to go. The humor of this is in dream was to wager against fate as to see where and how the soul would end. The bets and journey through life of the soul to its end made the powerful one entertainment. His desire to see how bits and pieces of his soul would grow made him more and more interested in the drama from which his soul would take if given a different chance.
To make the betting even worth more the all powerful one made a decision to make everything seven times and watch everything replay at different times and places. The experience called life being developed is what this story is about.
Genesis One Design
There were 1100 companies bidding on requirements to build the first universe. Each company had to provide ideas to what was needed and what entertainment venues would be provided to the all-powerful one.
I had just moved to town. Exploring the streets, I came across a bookstore.
The sign intrigued me, so I went in. The front counter was unmanned. And not a soul could be seen in the shop. were
I went to the first shelf of books. Wild. Indie books. Hundreds of them all printed. Opening a cover of a book titled: Bolivian Time Traveler. The book immediately impressed me with the adventure story. A writer trapped in parallel spacetime worlds. Traveling back through time to watch the end of the time of tribulation. The author. An expat from Montana. He wrote about how he had awoken been kidnapped from his reality. And lived day by day in parallel realities so close to him that few people would know the difference.
Setting the book aside. I turned to the next book. The Mystery of Shade and wood stamps. An introductory book to Chiaroscuro. Turning the page. They delighted me to see the dark printings of master works. The light caught the edges of the sculptures. Making them look shadowy.
Reading more into the book. It gave details of the first painter to use this technique as an Apollodorus Skiagraphos. The mystery here was the book showed old photos of his work. However, from the dates ascribed to the photos and works shown made me think this was a fictional book. Reason? Some of the color photographs were in Russia in the early 1900s. To be more specific. Czar Nicholas’ personal library collection of antiquities was in some subtitles. Reading more into the book. The author seemed to show that the library still existed and that KGB still had control of it. This made me smile. KGB had not existed for some time now. So I looked at the published date 1969.
I suppose the book could reflect what the author knew. The book ascribed a certain magic to some paintings. Reading on. The author followed up with a story. Of Skiagraphos last known painting according to the author. There were three photos of Czar Nicholas. One holding what looked like a miniature vase detailing hunting with dogs. A portrait of some man. And a temple.
Reading farther into the book. I discovered more detail about how the technique had gone out of style for a time. Then reappeared with Leonardo da Vinci. Here the author again showed photos of works from the 1900s. One with Czar Nicholas holding a lovely, shadowy woman. Subtitled Mona Lisa. The book in Russian subtitle also had an English translation. Which seemed to show that Czar Nicolas held at one time a miniature Mona Lisa painting. Then the next photo showed a larger version of Mona Lisa. Seemed to show that they took the photo in Saint Petersburg 1903.
The book went into details. How the KGB was hiding some of the more notable Skiagraphos paintings from earlier times in a cold vault. The author detailed how underground vaults and cities were being prepared. To keep humanity’s history alive. Now, I knew this was getting into fictitious reality. Why? The author detailed how Stalin had put together a plan to hide the best of the best communist. In cities underground. Then to use Russian resources to build large cities hidden so that no satellites could see them.
Seemed to show that the USSR considered prepared for an invasion from space as a likelihood. Let alone that. But the author spent a chapter detailing how these cities of the shadow. How they would or could be constructed in secret. From key cities in Russia’s underground railroad.
Someone evidently used the paintings as subtitles secrets. This was to hide how the USSR used two million slave laborers. To carve tunnels outside of the great Russian cities. Into underground bunkers designed to withstand attacks from space and nuclear war. The book went into details of the shadowy realities. Seemed weird to me.
I read the next chapter, which became even more of a shock. The author wrote a complete story of how two of Czar Nicolas’ daughters escaped. Then lived in the shadows outside of Russia. My rough memory of the chapter.
The tale of the princesses from memory, mind you. The author of the book named Jack.
The group on the train is a combination of US and British soldiers with train men from the states. Jack got to know the brake man. He learned the entire group was off to save the Czar Nicholas II of Russia and his family.
The train adventure was something out of an old medieval war story. The train, being a steam engine, would puff and stop due to the lack of coal. Several times along the way they put the whole attachment forth to cut wood, and or look for coal. Jack was useful knowing a little Russian and Yiddish from his grandfather. Jack also got to learn how to slow the train down by applying the brakes going downhill.
One time people were out searching for fuel for the train. A group of locals dressed as Mongolians attacked the train with swords and arrows. The sentry with the steam-powered machine gun made temporary work of them. The British had to bribe both the White Army of the Czar, Bolsheviks, wild revolutionaries, and the Red Army of Vladimir Lenin. To get through the Siberian train railroad. Bribing into the White Army was easier said than done. A lot of the old Czar’s military felt betrayed by the Czar by his lack of leadership. One White General even ordered a bayonet charge against the train. While it was pulling away from a station. The tale of that ride brought me back for several visits to Jack, the junkman in Terry, Montana. There was the Japanese army of a million men who were taking up positions on the road. The bribe was a jewel the size of a baby’s fist to the general in command. Different groups attacked them several times. They held the train with three machine guns and a cannon.
One of the more memorable tales was. When Jack’s train had to back up fifteen miles because of no side rails to let the train of General Kaledin by. Jack’s wild story here was more reflective in his face. Talking about how hard braking downhill was easy, but keeping a whole train at a steady pace. Sometimes on how going backward in snow was terrifying. After that he was tired however because he knew some Russian and Yiddish he was forced back to work.
The tale Jack had. Described as General Kaledin. Then invited the officers, and he was drafted as their messenger for a night party. The party was like a medieval banquet inside a train. Drinking wine, vodka, and dancing with women. His tale was of several professional night ladies. The dancing, singing, and drinking more vodka and spirits than he could remember doing so in his life. All he did was watch. According to many medieval tales, the General was not such a good guy. During the night, General Kaledin required an extra bribe. Which the Brit paid several costly jewels and another ruby the size of a handful was the description.
After that the train went to two stops to find the Czar. The first was a lost venture. Meaning the Czar had been moved, and the second was Ipatiev House in Yekaterinburg. They reached Ipatiev House in Yekaterinburg. This time an American office, a British officer/royal, and Jack, as a scout, went into Yekaterinburg. The British officer spoke flawless Russian, however, no one in public wanted to speak with him. Jack took the lead, asking for some bread. Jack was a quick child. Knowing some Yiddish allowed him to ask the right kids around the train yard to find the family. Upon getting to the house, there was not much to the tale. The officers bribed the local official. They were preparing to leave with the entire family. However, the family doctor said they could not move Alexei. The Czar would not go without his son. Finally, the four daughters could go. Getting back to the train yard, there was a run-in with the locals.
One daughter was murdered there. Jack’s description was not of an execution. More like a disagreement with the person accepting a bribe. Then that person trying to retake the four girls. Anastasia Nikolaevna got separated during a melee between the Brit and five Russians. The Brit pulled out a sword and rushed the Russians, cutting three of them down and forcing the other two to flee. Knowing that name Anastasia, I asked what happened to her? He said Anastasia was next to a building when the local official pulled out a pistol. And five men rushed the Brit and were being restrained by the Brit when the gun went off. They shot Olga dead. Jack only said that after they had shot Olga that Anastasia just was not there. One moment she was and the next no sign. There was snow, so he looked but could not find her. Anyway, after looking for a few minutes. Both officers, Tatiana Nikolaevna, Maria Nikolaevna and Jack, got back to the train. That was Jack’s saving a princess tale.
The fighting on the way back across Serbia was a wild tale. Jack, on over one occasion, was put in charge of brakes for the train. While the regular trackman went to sleep. Or was repairing parts of the train which kept moving as fast to the east as possible. There were three melees that Jack gave great detail about. First was when the Red Army in front of the train required that everyone get off the train and be searched. The diplomatic papers and bribes were not working this time. So the plan laid out by the Brit rather was to engage the Reds upon seeing them and open fire with the machine gun. This was the plan. However, the Reds brought only a few soldiers to the train. Someone easily bribed them when the wrong officer was in charge. Pulling out of the blockade. Things got crazy and the machine gun was used, cutting into several soldiers of the Red Army.
The train moved along for hundreds of miles without seeing a sign of human life. Then suddenly there was a vast amount of people escaping the Red Army. The melee here was more sad. The people, Jack, said the people were just trying to escape the cold. But their numbers and rioting were slowing the train down. They ordered the soldiers on board to clear a path, which they did with swords and bayonets.
The final big melee was between the Japanese and Red army. Which had sent several thousand troops into the area to secure the railroad? This part was interesting in that the Japanese at first deferred to the General. That had let them pass through the first time. But during their passing a new General arrived. He was more honorable or had not been bribed and was trying to retake the train. The melee was short of the machine gun, cutting down several hundred soldiers in an open field.
The book said that the British officer married Titiana. That Maria ended up as a missionary in Africa. The book tale was fun.