The Warehouse, Part 8

The tour continued, the darkness continued, the overwhelming knowing continued, we were not alone.

I feel the same now as I did then, the queen had slipped up, getting turned around in the maze of rooms, doorways, hallways, and spray paint. She did not intend to include this room on my tour.

The mistake didn’t surprise me, not even slightly. The ruler of the warehouse was spent, burnt out and quite possibly on the edge of collapse. Even heavy drug users have to sleep once in a while, although some choose to fight against the inevitable as long as humanly possible. In the end, that battle always ends the same, the crash.

Years of spray paint and tagging markers had transformed the stairwell into a dark graffiti masterpiece. Fortunately, I’ve spent some time with professional graffiti artists, otherwise, I might have been completely mesmerized, losing track of time, and my surroundings. Again, everything prepares us for what’s next.

As I looked at the large doors covered in spray paint, only one thought rang through my head, I shouldn’t be here.

It had been a long and dangerous night, but instead of navigating my way towards safety, I had done just the opposite, I had pushed it once again, quite possibly too far. I’ve lost count and track of how many times I’ve made the free will choice to place my feet upon a path of mortal danger, just to find out where I stand.

To say that I was multitasking would be more than an understatement, almost an insult to myself from myself, so I won’t minimize at this critical point of the story.

Mental multitasking, yes that’s it. My mind was split between my immediate surroundings, following every detail of my tour guide, including any multitasking that she was performing, where the king of the castle might be, and a few other things. We, humans, are complicated creatures, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The queen didn’t want to stay at the bottom of the stairs, and I’ll be blunt, either did I. There was something else I didn’t want to do, something I couldn’t allow myself to do. I couldn’t leave without testing that creepy little bitch right there and then.

Damn, those doors looked like nightmarish jail cells, covered with demonic images, spray paint gone evil. I will not be describing those pictures here, within this story, within my blog. No, I won’t be giving them time, energy, or life in that way.

One more push, one more challenge, another footprint across the line in the sand. I reached for the door handle farthest from the stairs. I hadn’t been making any effort to hide my thoughts or my intentions from my guide. I expected intervention, and I would not be disappointed.

“Don’t do that!”, She insisted, moving to step between the door and me if necessary.

I didn’t want to open the door, had no intentions of opening the door. Instead, I turned and began making my way back up the stairs, leaving the creepy woman alone in the dark, just the way she liked it.

What she didn’t know, what I haven’t said to anyone until this moment, I had taken a one-two punch at the bottom of those stairs, and they had landed right on my chin, and I was dazed.

In an effort to connect to my environment, really connect to my environment, I had pushed my senses farther than I should have, leaving myself vulnerable. Vulnerable to what? Things left behind.

**Flashback Two and half years ago in Aurora Colorado**

I was bicycling down seventeenth Avenue, crossing Havana Street with traffic on my Green Diamondback. I sideswiped a car, resulting in me being very disappointed in me. And why would I be mad at me? It was overconfidence in my own abilities that caused me to hit the car.

Now, back in the 30k-35k square foot abandoned warehouse, I was once more, being overconfident. The result, I found myself dropping my defenses, and connecting empathically to the negative energy of the warehouse, particularly what had been left behind at the bottom of the stairs.

As I reached the top of the stairs something from The Art of War came to me. When you’re strong, show weakness, when you’re weak, show strength, or something like that. I knew that I needed to center myself, and I needed to eat. I would not be eating until I was outside of that damn building.

End Part 8

J.S.

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