Sublime Paradigm

By Michael Solovei/MonetMeetsPoe

Sublime Paradigm is a psychological thriller which will leave you breathless. It smashes multiple genres together, as it's based on a true story. Sublime Paradigm brings the reader closer to understanding the story behind the life of a person who looks like everyone else, but is entirely different. This novel promises to heighten your senses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Solovei/MonetMeetsPoe
• Release date: May 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301557639

Michael Solovei/MonetMeetsPoe

Born a writer, always a writer.

Book preview

Sublime Paradigm

by Michael Solovei

Copyright ©2013 All Rights To Author

Published by SmashWords/SmashWords Edition

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

Chapter 1

I’m on the port quarter in the back of a ferry boat named The Mustard Seed II. It’s a giant boat tugging itself away from shore.

It was as though it couldn’t go fast enough. There I was, just a 6 year old kid, screaming at the top of my lungs, FASTER! FASTER! Sure enough, the more I screamed, the slower the boat seemed to go. I felt like my whole world was crashing in on me.

The anxiety was ripping through my veins, and the panic was as though my face was placed on my neck sideways, and spun around like a top, while twisting like a yo-yo when you mess up a trick.

Suddenly, a piercing sound was rupturing my tympanic membrane inside my ear canals. It seemed like the ripple effect, and it brought me to my knees. The sound did not drown out through the white noise of the ferry’s engine.

It was a pure ringing, making tympanic seem defined as Titanic for this kind of headache. It hurt all around my head, and in my ears. It felt as though my brain was melting from stress, leaving nothing left but my cadaver. Still, I staggered to the hand-rail. I could barely move.

I suffered with all my might just to lift my head and take one last look to see who was trying to kill me. There he was, green skinned and ugly, with relatively large glowing red eyes.

The devil was a laughing gremlin/leprechaun-like monster, with scourging eyes of terror. He glared with demonic intentions, as he walked on water; hopping from lily pad to lily pad into deep ocean water.

He was real; troll-like, but could suddenly make me drop to my hands and knees. So he did, paralyzing me by more than my own fear through some long range screech acoustics.

Oh this little devil’s laugh was so loud and threatening. The piercing sounds seemed like a tuning fork was implanted inside my head; being struck by an anvil.

I couldn’t care because this leprechaun was gaining ground, and I knew he wanted to tear into my skin with his angry jagged teeth to steal my soul.

I geared my eyes toward my imagination, and focused on the trail for a mille-second. The trails of lily pads were forming a perfect line as the boat seemed to struggle forward.

I began to feel the ultimate cold rain. Though the trail was long enough to buy me a little time, I could not move. My head was going to implode.

My head was about to burst inside out, and make such an explosion that objects nearby would be sucked in by the force. My brain was a bomb.

I closed my eyes and started to force myself to cry for help. I cried as I just tried to move away from the rail before this leprechaun finally caught up to me, but no sound came from my mouth.

I cried with each ounce of strength hoping my determination to push forward would persevere. The pouring rain and splash of the waves made visibility poor, and inescapable.

I muscled a turn and began to race against the strongest force of gravity I’ve ever encountered, while feeling glued to the boat’s deck surface. There was no escape, and the visibility in front of me was terribly limited.

There was nothing I could do but pray for help. I wasn’t sure how to pray, so I begged to be saved from this situation.

My head was just too much to handle. The pain was so bad it could never be closely described. My eyeballs began to dislodge inside my head; as if I was being pulled by my optic nerve from the inside. It felt like the tuning fork in my head had turned my eyes into Slinkys.

My sight was literally being plucked from inside my brain, and the whole boat began to become a stretched out picture closing in on death. The last image became unknown as all my visibility closed in from the outside of my eyes to the center point of light.

Suddenly it all was black. I couldn’t move. I could feel myself straining to move, but I just could not even twitch. I tried to make myself climb out of myself to be alive, like I knew I was, but I became aware my soul was not yet a spirit.

I started to tremble, and then began to shake. I mustered out a short wine as I tried to at least sit up. Still, everything was all black.

Luckily, I was able to open my eyes for a brief second. As I was unintentionally kissing the floor of the boat, I looked up as though there was hope.

Then, I witnessed the leprechaun fly up from the ocean’s trail of lily pads, and swoop over the side rails directly to devour me. As I made eye contact with him for the last time, I heard one final creepy laugh.

The boat seemed to suddenly stop as the devil seemed to be forced to overshoot his landing. I believed he jumped completely over the side rail. But I remained terrified by the shadows which began to completely cover me like a hot blanket from hell’s passageway to a fiery death.

Immediately, everything was silent. It was a miracle. My head began to move, but I became nauseated by the sea-sickness from the thrashing of the waves.

I was intoxicated by the smell of sea salt and sea weed. I felt myself open my eyes to see a strong, nearly blinding white light with a shadow figure in the center. I heard a voice say, Rise, and come to me. Do not be afraid. So I, again, tried to sit up-this time with strength.

Bam! I hit my head on something when I tried to sit up. I saw stars and began to feel the continuation of a loud ringing in my ears. An axe was splitting my head in two pieces. I squealed out another little whine and began to feel a teardrop run down my cheek.

I’m dizzy, and I don’t know what just happened. I don’t know where I am, but I remembered only his face. The leprechaun was still after me, I had to get moving and run away from him.

Bam! I hit my head on something again.

Michael. Michael! Michael is that you? Allen wake up! Allen I hear Michael. Where are you Michael?

Boy if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought that was my mother’s voice. She was trying to get the attention of my father who was asleep right next to her.

Her voice had a definite sense of urgency, and I could feel the energy rush through my body as I came back to consciousness. I heard movement above me, and I began to focus my eyes knowing there was something hard right above me.

I turned my head as the object above me began to sink in closer to my face. When I turned my head to the right, I could begin to see a dim light.

I realized I was in some sort of crawl space. So I began to drag myself with use of my arms. My legs felt paralyzed. That’s when I felt I could speak, and I said, Mom, is that you?

Michael! Oh, you’re alright.

My mom was there with me. I could see her, as I spoke to her while I realized I don’t know how I got there. I looked back and saw I had been dreaming underneath my parents’ bed, directly underneath my mother, who was on the left side.

I was very embarrassed. My Mom said, Why were you under there?

I said, I’m not sure. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I started to recover flashbacks of some of the most frightening moments of my childhood. And I remember it so clear.

My mother began her investigation process by asking me questions. My Dad was lethargic as he realized my Mom and I were awake. He paid no attention to us as he rolled his eyes, and then rolled over to fall back asleep. His back was turned from the both of us.

With my father’s back turned to us, I heard him yell at me by saying, Oh for Christ sake, grow up and stop being such a God damn pain in the ass. If you do this one more time I’m going to beat you to a pulp like yesterday. Do you want that?

I said nothing and began to cry with bitterness, weakness, and confusion.

He stripped the blankets off himself, sat up, and then turned to face me with the evil eyes of the leprechaun, and said, Answer me dammit!

"You’re nothing but a God damn pain in the ass and I’m going to ring your neck if you come in here and wake me up again. Now get outta here before I hang you, beat you with my fists, and make you bleed by lashing you 25 times with my leather strap.

Allen, stop it, my mother said.

Dad barked back at her and said, Get him out of here, NOW!

My mother took my hand, helped me up, and rushed me out of their room and into my room.

Michael, what were you doing underneath our bed?

I don’t know Mom.

I never wanted to worry my mother. She was always alert. When something gave her cause to worry, it would become all she’d do; get worried and nervous. I didn’t want to worry her, and I definitely didn’t want to wake my father again.

Were you having a dream? Were you scared, and that’s why you fell asleep underneath our bed?

I said, I don’t know.

My mother then gasped with the air of a troublesome inconvenience. I knew she was thinking to herself, Why does this happen so often? She grabbed me by the arm, and started to lead me back to my bed, angry and frustrated that I disturbed her and my father.

When we reached the foot of my bed, I followed the momentum of her pull, and swung myself up into it. I just wanted her to leave me alone anyway.

I had always convinced myself to stop falling into the trap of The Land of Make Believe. After all, no one would believe me if I tried to explain what had just occurred.

My worries are not anyone else’s problem, and I certainly didn’t know who else to blame for the irresponsibility of having nightmares, such as this.

It must’ve been my fault if I was the one doing something wrong. And I was doing something wrong. I was breaking into my parents’ room and sneaking underneath it.

I was running away like a scared little girl, like my father would tell my mother. It was then her responsibility to take care of me, and it wasn’t fair for me to do that to them, especially at 3:33 AM.

But after my mother tucked me back into bed, and left the room, I began to retrace what had just happened. To me, it was a mystery laced with panic. I didn’t know what happened.

I did know I was dreaming, but I don’t remember being anywhere other than in my bed. I was trembling because I was scared out of my wits. How did I start out going to bed, here in my room, just to end up in there?

I was a little overwhelmed and intimidated. I was scared of my parent’s reactions which just took place in their room. I didn’t know what to do besides start to get teary eyed.

Just then, my door squeaked and opened slightly. The light made my surroundings more evident and visible, as my eyes adjusted.

I looked around without moving my head because I was paranoid by the strong feeling someone was in my room. I slightly turned my head and saw a full figure, human-like shadow, evaporate into nothing.

Then it reappeared near my window, as two others joined it as though in a projection. The other three had come through my window like it was a porthole.

It had to have been the transition of light, from darkness to brightness sparking my imagination. So I turned my head to ignore the apparitions. I looked out another window for distraction. I saw the most profound starry night.

All the stars were so bright, attractive, and so close together. My eyes were drowsy as I realized I was still tired. I tried to recover my focus and as I adjusted my eye lids, I could see swirls of something colored in space. I saw a shooting star race across the galaxy and disappear. It was amazing.

Suddenly, my body felt frozen and I couldn’t move again. I couldn’t breathe. I even felt like I was hovering about 1 foot over my bed because there was a draft underneath me.

I barely opened my eyes back up and surveyed my room as much as I could without moving my body. I couldn’t see anything besides the light coming through my window in the form a beam; like when the clouds open up a little bit during a cloudy day. We used to say those moments are when a soul is lifted into Heaven.

Then I fell back asleep, but my mind was still awake. Everything became black.

When I woke up, it was as though it had all been a dream. Or was it a dream, which I was still experiencing? The only way to be sure, and to try and understand these circumstances, was to force my eyes open and begin to reason with myself.

Opening them was a struggle. It was as though I was warring for victory during an inconceivable conquest, only to be weighed down by time and substance. I tried to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth.

All of the sudden, an unknown movie was playing through my eyelids. I succumbed to its intentions and allowed myself to let this vision ride out.

Immediately I started to wonder if I had been a victim of a hit and run. I started to have a flashback of looking up and seeing a guard rail pass by me as I broke through it, and then saw myself looking down 100 feet, or so, at rocks and the ocean at the bottom of a cliff.

The flashback was traumatic enough to peel back my eye lids, and I immediately jumped to reality by sitting up. I was half sitting, and half lying down on a most uncomfortable bed.

My whole body hurt, especially my spine. Again, I felt like a tuning fork had been struck, and my whole sense of being alive was vibrating to a ringing in my ears.

My eyes started to regain focus, as I started to smell this putrid stench. It woke me up even more, and then it disappeared.

Good morning sunshine.

Immediately I thought I was hearing more voices. I tried to jump to my feet, only to feel a terrible pain in my head from bashing it against something. The wrath of gravity overtook me and forced me onto the floor, flattened and dizzy.

I heard a voice, Ha, ha, ha.

The sound of the leprechaun came back to me. I needed to get on my feet and run.

Do ya need a hand mister?

My eyes focused more, and I saw the hand of a black man right in front of my face.

You were having some dream, partner. C’mon, grab my hand and I’ll help you back up on the bed.

I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Regardless, I took this man’s instructions and reached out for his hand. I had no power to do this on my own. Maybe he could help me figure out what was going on.

The man said, What happened to you anyway?

I don’t know. The devil was chasing after me.

Whoa, wait a minute. Come on now, join me in reality. You’re in the pen, not in some dream world.

He helped me back onto the bed by basically carrying me. He made me feel weightless after spending some time feeling like the weight of the world was resting comfortably on top of me.

My feet were touching the floor, as I was sitting mostly hunched over, trying to sit up straight. I mustered up enough strength to lift my head and look at this gentleman who had already became my friend, just by helping me back on the bed.

Are you alright?

I’m not sure, I said.

What are you here for?

I looked around and realized the pen was a jail cell.

I don’t know, I said.

C’mon man, quit playin’. What are you in for?

I don’t know, I said again.

Yeah, I guess you’re right. Nobody in their right mind would know how they got here.

I said to him, Who are you?

Mr. Rogers. That’s ‘Mister’ to you though white boy. What’s your name?

My name is Mike. But that’s ‘partner’ to you though.

Ah man, another wise-ass, tighty-whitey.

I said to him, Don’t get whacky, blacky.

I don’t know where that remark came from, but I didn’t realize what I was saying. I felt as though I just sealed my own fate; still believing I was in a dream world.

Alright partner, I’ll give you that one.

I asked him, What are you in here for?

I don’t know, he said.

I knew he was being sarcastic, but I didn’t care. I’ve had roommates before, and I needed to play along with his perceptions of what is. After all, it is what it is; as some philosopher once put it.

Ah shoot. I’m in here for armed robbery, drugs, and looking like Rodney King.

I said, Well Mister, what kind of drugs are we talking about?

Of all the things to ask me, like murder and robbery, why are you asking me about drugs?

You didn’t say murder when I asked you. Besides, I was asking about drugs because I wanted to know what you could get me.

Anything you want brother.

I need something for seizures, an anti-psychotic, a sleep aid, and something for my ulcers.

You crazy.

I said, I know.

My man, the only thing I can get you is some weed. But you won’t be able to smoke it around here.

Whatever. I wasn’t looking for that anyway. I thought you said you could get me anything.

I aint no pharmacist anyways.

What’s the fun in armed robberies if it isn’t a pharmacy?

How did you guess? I also helped knock off a few banks. What’s the fun in being a cracker if you don’t have drugs and money?"

I naively said, Love.

Ha! There aint no such thing as love. You still in that dream world man. What you want me to smack you upside the head a little to bring you back.

I might accept your offer when the lights go out.

He stood up, walked over to me, and said, Why when the lights go out sucker?

I don’t know what came over me, but I had a fit of rage and punched him in the knee cap as hard as I could.

I said, Do you want the lights to go out now, sucker?

Alrighty, Whitey. No need to get all bent. We in this together now, hear me dog?

Yeah, sometimes I don’t know what controls me. Sorry, but what did I just do?

What crazy man? You just bitch slapped me in the knee. You mean to tell me you don’t know nothing about nothing?

Look, forgive me Mister, but I don’t know why I’m here, or what’s going on for that matter. I was seeing some doctors for a few of the problems I was having.

I continued, I don’t know much right now, but trust me; I know how to defend myself. But sometimes, my timing isn’t perfect, hear me dog?

Yeah, I forgive you. But I aint no psychiatrist, Mr. Iron Mike Tyson.

I’m more like Rocky Marciano, a hint of Elvis, and topped with a little Babe Ruth and Nolan Ryan.

Ahhh, so you a mutt then.

Just don’t call me a liar.

Alright Elvis, what are you here for?

With quick sarcasm I said, Look Rodney, I don’t know.

You’re pushing your luck, but I’ll forgive you for that remark. You call me Mister, hear me dog?

I wasn’t thinking right. I meant no harm. What’s your name again?

Man, what kind of freak are you? My name is Mister.

Let’s make a deal, you can call me anything you want-except liar, and I get to come up with a name for you.

Deal. What you got in mind for me?

I don’t know yet, but I’ll let you know ahead of time.

Alright.

Just then, I heard a loud shouting, and a bell went off. I was startled and jumped to my feet.

What’s going on?

It’s lunch time Rocky.

I didn’t know if I was even hungry. I was still having a hard time trying to understand what was going on. But I was well aware of the importance of going with the flow.

As our cell opened up, I noticed a big guard standing and staring at me with some funky expression on his face; as if to treat me as though I was guilty to something a lot more serious than I knew of.

The guard said, Let’s go, now!

My roommate and I stood next to the door, and then we proceeded to file ourselves in line with about 100 other men in orange jumpsuits.

As we walked to wherever we were going, I looked around at all the other characters and noticed I might be in a whole bunch of trouble.

These guys looked serious about being seriously threatening. There were only a handful of white guys, and they looked old. Well, a lot older than me anyway.

We walked inside this big gymnasium-like building. I looked around, and there were armed guards everywhere I looked. It felt like all eyes were on me.

It felt like all the guards, and all the inmates were staring at me. But I tried real hard to keep my composure, and carried on minding my own business.

I stayed in line with Mr. Rogers, as we approached this area where the prison lunch ladies were serving our meal; except they weren’t ladies. They were armed guards too.

Move along, one of the servers demanded.

I grabbed a tray and continued down the line to fill it up with a variety of foods. I had a grape drink juice box, potato, a thin slice of some kind of meat look-alike, and a dab of gravy.

Follow me and you’ll be safe, Mr. Rogers said to me.

We walked to the end of a table, at the end of a row, and sat down to eat.

Alright cracker, now tell me, what did you do to be sent here?

I don’t really know. I feel like I had a flashback earlier, but I can’t be sure.

What was the flashback?

Well, I think I was in a car which went over a cliff. But that’s all I know.

Were you drinking and driving? You seemed messed up when you came in, yellin’ all sorts of things in your sleep.

Well, at least I was sleeping. I don’t recall having being able to do a whole lot of sleeping in my lifetime.

Insomnia?

Yeah, I guess, depending on how you look at things.

Well, I know I’m looking at a crazy white boy, reincarnation, of some sort. But for real, you look like the shoe bomber.

Thanks for your analysis.

Mike-man, you probably got messed up on some kind of drug, like heroin.

No, I would never do anything like that. I mean, I’ve smoked some pot in my day, but never got into a huge drug addiction predicament.

I have a 13 year old daughter who’s about to turn 14, so getting caught up in that mix would be wrong, you hear me?

Yeah, but desperate times equals desperate measures.

Tell me about it. It’s a hard knock life.

Cheers to that, he said.

Just as we raised our juice boxes to say cheers, a lot of yelling started happening. The yells turned to cheers, as I looked over and saw some Latino fella pushing around a 60-plus white man. He elbowed him in the face and drew some blood.

Then the guards made their way in, separated the two, settled down the group, and then escorted the older guy out of the cafeteria. Then the Latino picked up the guy’s tray of food, and brought it over to his table to share with his posse. Those around him celebrated.

What the heck? What was that about?

That’s Alex Rodriguez. He thinks he’s a bad motha’ when he’s around his boys.

Why did they take out the other guy?

He answered, The guards are afraid of those boys, so whenever they start something, the guards finish it by taking the other guy out and putting them in solitary, or something.

So, they punish the guy for being picked on?

More like he was picked; but yeah, they punish the weak. Man, everybody punishes the weak.

My blood began to boil a little, but I tried to lock the doors to whatever this side of me was bringing out. It was totally necessary to stay cool, and mind my own business.

Unfortunately though, I don’t know what compelled me to look back at Alex Rodriguez, but I did. And when I did, he made eye contact with me.

I saw the fear in his eyes as he drew a mask about his face which was meant to be threatening, like when a turkey expands its feathers to appear bigger to the other turkey, in self-defense.

You just looked at him, didn’t you?

Yeah, but be cool, and make it like it never happened.

He’s coming this way.

Stay cool, and don’t say anything to him.

I asked, Are you a coward?

Mr Rogers said, No.

Just ignore him then.

Those school yard tricks don’t work in here my man, and Jedi-mind-tricks are out too.

Trust me. Don’t even acknowledge his presence if he stops at the end of our table.

Just then, I heard his voice. It was a voice which was hoarse, but sort of feminine-not the kind of voice you’d associate with a gangster.

Well, well. Who are you, chica? What makes you think you have the guts to look at me?

I didn’t say anything back to him. I just looked down at my plate, and put another spoon full of potato in my mouth.

Hey you little bitch, I was talking to you. You looked at me then, so look at me now-before I screw your whole life up, chica.

Still, I didn’t say anything to him. I just lifted my head a bit, and looked at Mr. Rogers. He looked back at me, and nodded with his eyes as though I was about to get a whipping.

Just then, I felt a powerful push on my right shoulder. It knocked me into the others sitting to my left.

Look at me now bitch before I take off your little skirt and mess you up.

As I started to reposition myself, I looked at my food once again. My intention was to carry on as though no one was really there.

I guess that pissed him off, and gave him the go-ahead to push me again, but this time harder, as though his pushing was playing some sort of twisted game of dominos.

I heard the arousal of a forming crowd.

This time, I repositioned myself again, the same way as before, but this time waiting for his most recent attempt to embarrass and belittle me.

Hey, chica, I’m talking to you. Are you too scared to even look at me? Well, I’ll see that pretty little face of yours when I’m raping you before I kill you, in front of everyone.

It was as though the flood gates had opened. I couldn’t control myself. I looked up at Mr. Rogers across from me, but then grabbed my spoon from the table and jabbed it into his lower extremities, as hard as my force would let me.

I didn’t know exactly the extent of what I had just done. But I was still looking across the table at Mr. Rogers, as though my right hand had a life of its own.

I saw Mr. Rogers eyes get bigger in fear, and astonishment. Then he turned to look at Rodriguez.

Rodriguez screamed Ahhh! What the fuck?

Rodriguez fell to the floor instinctively. I looked at the floor which was filling with blood, but still ignored that Rodriguez was even there.

I noticed there was a little blood pulsating from the wound I had just left with my spoon, which was still in my hand. I said nothing and carried on. I wiped my spoon and went back to eating my lunch. Suddenly, I was hungry.

The guards came rushing over to him. I couldn’t really make out