A Quick Experience (Non-erotic)

The most surreal experience just happened. Now, I’m not the type that usually shares these sorts of things, but this was too weird not to!

I was sitting there, watching TV with my wife and daughters, when someone knocked on the door. I just assumed it was my oldest daughter’s friend, come to play with her. I told her to go answer it. She came back, saying that some scary men were at the door.

Now, I’m not rich, or even well-to-do, but I am a war veteran. My mind went into protection mode. I told my wife to take our youngest and hide in the kitchen. She gave me a funny look, and told me not to worry about it. It was probably nothing.

I had to admit that I was probably over reacting. They couldn’t be there to rob me. Like I said, I’m not rich.

Anyway, I went to the door, and had to agree with my daughter. They were scary looking. Not in the, ‘I’m going to beat the ever-living shit out of you and fuck your skull’ kind of way. More like the way the secret service looks scary. They had on suits and sunglasses—it was sunny outside—and even had the earpieces in.

“Are you the internet author known as Sselxuyt and Zerg Rush?” the man practically filling the doorway asked. He pronounced Sselxuyt wrong. I pronounce it ‘Selk-shweet.’ I’m not even going to try and figure out how to write the way he butchered it. I just knew I was in some trouble.

“Umm,” I said, not sure how to answer that.

“What’s he talking about?” My wife asked me. See, here is where the real trouble is. As scary as these men looked, I knew how scary my wife could be. And she didn’t know about the stories I’ve been writing. She is a bit of a prude, and I knew she would have a conniption if she found out. So I haven’t exactly told her. I know, shame on me for keeping secrets.

“Nothing, dear,” I lied. She gave me her ‘Yeah, right,’ look, but I turned back to the suited man. “What’s this about?”

“Are you the internet author—“ he started again, but I interrupted him.

“Yes, yes. Now—“

He grabbed his earpiece and said, “Confirmed. Securing the area now.”

“What the hell?” I asked as three large men barged into my house.

“Don’t swear in front of the girls!” my wife hit my shoulder. Just for clarification, she considers the word, ‘hell,’ to be a swear word. Naturally, she was more worried about my language than the three men going through our house.

I decided discretion was the better part of valor here. Okay, the truth is, I was scared. So far they hadn’t threatened us, and they just seemed to go about my house, looking for something. I wasn’t happy about it, but as long as they didn’t try to take anything, or threaten my family, I wasn’t going to try and directly confront three men that had to outweigh my by a hundred pounds each. By the look of them, that was a hundred pounds of pure muscle. I’m no idiot. I know how that fight would end up. I’m not one of the characters from my stories. I’m a normal human, forced to live here in reality.

Anyway, after a few minutes, they came back to the front entryway. The main guy, I never did catch any of their names, held his earpiece again, and said, “All clear. Bring him in.”

My wife looked at me like I was supposed to know what was going on, but I was lost. Had the president decided to visit me? I highly doubted that! I’m not going to get political here, but let’s just say my state isn’t one that voted for him. I also had a hard time believing that he would be a fan of my erotic stories. Goodness knows his wife would probably get more than a little upset if she busted him reading my stuff.

It wasn’t him that came through the door, flanked by three more of the guards. In fact, at the time, I had no idea who it was. He was about my height, with graying brown hair and light colored eyes. His eyes looked older than his face belied.

“Hello,” he greeted me warmly. He held his hand out to me, but I only stared at him in shock. After the way his men had acted, I don’t know what I expected, but not this friendly acting person.

My wife hit my arm again, and I snapped out of it. At this point, I hope you don’t think my wife is abusive. She’s not. Her hits weren’t intended to be painful. They were more like nudges to behave myself. I’m getting off the subject of why I’m writing this, and I’m in a hurry.

I took his hand, and he smiled at me.

“Is there somewhere we can sit and chat?” he asked. “I have a few questions I hope you can answer.”

“Um, yeah sure,” I said, and led them into the family room. The six men in suits stood around the outside, while this mystery stranger sat in our loveseat.

My wife sent our daughters up to play in their room.

“I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, Mr. . . .” He trailed off, and I realized that despite knowing my online persona, he didn’t know my real name. That, or he did, and was wondering if I’d be willing to give it to him. I did. No, I’m not going to give it here, but I figured he already knew enough to know I was the one writing the Succubae Seduction story, and where I lived. “Thank you,” he said. “Like I said, I’m sorry to barge in on you, but I had to meet the person that knows so much about my life.”

“You know him?” my wife asked. I don’t know if she was more shocked, or in awe that I knew anyone like this man.

“No,” I told her. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”

“Perhaps,” the man said with a half-smile. “What color are my eyes?”

“Your eyes?” I asked, confused. I looked at them, but couldn’t tell. Yes, I’m colorblind, just like my main character. Wait, I thought. It couldn’t be! I mentioned before that his eyes were light. Looking closer, I realized that they could be gray. “This is a joke, right?” I asked. There is no way that my main character could be sitting in my family room right now.

“I see you’re skeptical,” he said. “I understand. I was skeptical at first when one of my wives pointed out your online blog to me. Imagine my surprise as I started reading about my own life. You got some of the details wrong, but overall it was me you were writing about.”

“His wives? Who is this?” my wife asked me again.

My lips started moving before I consciously formed the words. “Lyden Snow. But. . . . But it can’t be. I made him up.”

“Perhaps,” the man said again, still with that half smile. “But I would like to know who has been telling you about me. How can you possibly know things that were in my head at that time?”

“I made it up,” I told him. “I just used my imagination, and puts words on the screen. No one told me anything.” I started thinking fast, trying to put pieces together to a puzzle I had no idea what the finished product would be. “Wait, if you’re really Lyden Snow, then you should be dead! I’ve already written that chapter.”

As I mentioned him being dead, the six men in the room stiffened, but the man in the seat waved them down.

“I was,” he told me. “But that was over thirty years ago. One of the details you got wrong was the time frame. Everything you’ve written happened back in the 70’s and 80’s.”

“Bull,” I called. “What about the dragon attack? There is no way you could have covered that up. Or the mountain top exploding when you escaped the Paladonic Knights?”

He smiled at me, as though I were missing some great joke. “I’m sure you’re aware of Mt St. Helens exploding back in May of 1980? Your story really didn’t capture the amount of destruction that happened. The P.K.’s still haven’t forgiven me for that. Luckily they can’t touch me with all of my political connections.”

That would explain the secret service.

“And the dragon, Blue?” I asked, not willing to believe this craziness. It couldn’t be. It was impossible!

“Drugs were a pretty popular thing back in those days. Even in Chicago, a lot of people passed it off as a bad acid trip. There was no news footage as you wrote it, but I was able to woo Blue in the manner of her kind, saving Areth.” He chuckled to himself for a moment. “You really aren’t capturing her mischievous nature either. You’re trying, but there are a few things you’ve missed.”

“Fine, whatever,” I said, getting frustrated. I wasn’t frustrated because of him critiquing my writing, but for his continued attempt to get me to believe that he was Lyden Snow. “So, are you going to tell me that I got the part of you dying wrong?”

His gray eyes examined me for a few seconds before he finally answered. “I don’t know. You haven’t posted that chapter yet.”

“But you died?” I asked, trying to point out the contradiction of having a dead man talking to me in my own home.

“Oh, yes. It hurt like hell, too!” He said some more stuff about his death, which I am choosing not to write here. I don’t want to give away too many spoilers and all that. Suffice to say, that after almost an hour of talking, and him bringing up details that I have yet to post, I was starting to believe. He also informed me on how he was still alive.

Then I had a horrible thought. You see, I’ve already started writing the sequel. I know who the villain is, and what powers the good guys are going to face.

“Sheila’s had the twins?” I asked, then realized how dumb that question was. Of course she had. I had to test him one more time, though. “What are their names?”

“You mean, Sheldon and Shelly?” he asked. “Yeah, why?”

“Then you know about—“ he held up his hand to forestall me.

“It would seem that someone is still whispering into your ear about what happened in my life. Since you brought up those two. . . . Yes, I know what you’re talking about. Even if you get only half the details right—and so far you’ve done much better than that with your current attempt—your readers are in for quite the story.”

“Then you don’t mind if I continue?” I ask. I had begun to fear that his visit would end in him demanding that I stop.

“Actually, I find it quite refreshing to read over it. There are some things that I’ve forgotten, but your words bring them back to me,” he told me. “Most of it brings back fond memories, at least. I’d forgotten what a rogue I used to be!”

“You’re going to tell me everything you’ve been doing!” My wife demanded. Up until this point, she’d remained quiet, letting Lyden—for I can’t deny it was him any longer—speak his piece. My daughters were playing in their room this whole time, afraid of the big men in suits.

“I’m sorry if I have caused you problems by coming here,” he told us. “I had to meet the man who knows so much about me.”

“Do you know how I know so much,” I asked him.

He shook his head, and then thought for a moment. “There are still a lot of things I don’t know about the Spirit World. A lot of beings that I haven’t met. But as I think about it, the ancient Greek gods are there, so perhaps the mythic Muses exist as well. If so, then maybe they are feeding you my story so that it can be out there.”

“Why?” I ask. Mythical creatures whispering in my ear? I really hope they aren’t always watching me. That could get embarrassing.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you’ll discover that as you write.” He stood up and looked at a rather expensive looking watch. “Well, I’ve taken up a lot more of your time than I’d intended. Please, keep writing and exploring my past.”

“Wait,” I said, wanting to stop him. “There is one question that I’ve been unable to answer as I wrote.”

“Only one?” he asks me, raising an eyebrow. “I know I had a lot more than that at the time.”

I could feel my cheeks burning, and was very much aware of my wife in the room, but I had to know. The answer never came to me while I wrote, and it didn’t make a lot of sense. I had to ask.

“Did you ever find out why Jennifer lost all that weight after—“ I glanced at my wife, “—she saved you from the myrmidon?”

He burst out laughing, and I nervously joined him. “Yes,” he said, wiping away tears of mirth. “I did.” He turned and three of his bodyguards left through the front door, presumably to secure the area.

“And?” I asked, wanting to know.

He stopped before leaving my home. “And the answer was quite simple. Most people grow into their souls, or maybe their souls grow into their bodies. I’ve never been able to figure out which way it goes. Sometimes, and it doesn’t happen very often, the two don’t match. I don’t know what causes it, but I suspect that it can have something to do with trauma. Jennifer was treated cruelly when she was younger. I think that that made her soul shrink. When I took her virginity, something in me, or one of my abilities, forced the two to come back together. The result was that she lost all that weight. Her body and soul were brought back into sync.” He turned to face my wife then and smiled. “Go easy on him. I have truly enjoyed his writing. I hope you can too.”

I was stunned to know that such a thing was even possible. About Jennifer, not about my wife going easy on me. The latter isn’t possible, no matter how much magic exists in the world. I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked after everything else I’d learned. Or maybe it was all just too much for the moment. Either way, he was out the door before I could think to ask him anything else.

When I did finally think to ask him a question that probably should have been the first one on my lips, I ran to the door in time to see an old style orange Volkswagen Beetle drive away.

On the doorstep was a large manila envelope. In it was a letter inviting us to what he called the Spirit World (apparently another detail I got wrong), and tickets for my wife and me. We were told it would be a good idea to leave the girls with someone we trust. Humans are allowed there now, but it is still a dangerous place.

Well, I’m all packed, and ready to go. My wife is throwing a fit, because I refuse to tell her everything. All I’ll say for now is for her to come along and see for herself. Our daughters are going to stay with my mom, until we get back.

I’ve decided to take the time to write this before I board the plane. I felt that you, my loyal readers, deserved to know. In case I don’t return, Garbanzo has the last two chapters, so you will at least know how Lyden’s story ends. I’ll update the final chapter with an epilogue, so. . . . You know what? You’ll just have to wait and see. Hopefully I’ll be back soon, and I can continue working on the sequel. Hopefully I’ll be able to get firsthand accounts of what happened, instead of trusting to whatever muse is speaking to me. That way I can get more details right.

Take care, my friends. My flight is beginning to board. Hopefully I’ll have time to post this.

SSelxuyt, aka DBs_Bro, aka Zerg Rush.

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