The Seventh Chakra

By J.R. Bowles

A woman is kidnapped off the streets of NYC, a terrible thing on any day, but this is the beginning of the awakening of the Avatar. Or is he? John Fleuric, a software creator, becomes the center of attention of all involved when power, energy, sex, and death, weave their existence as they become joined in a vision of the Universal Plan and the fate of everyone.

From Boca Raton, to New York City, to Roanoke, Virginia, this book is a metaphysical journey; an awakening awareness as the struggles of the universe are revealed through a diverse group of people who have been connected by fate.

Energy and power abound in a battle to understand what the universe is trying to tell them and what the fate of mankind will be.

With every vibration of energy upon one of the seven chakra the group slowly awakens to the building blocks of existence, laying out choices of paths they may or may not take.

A young woman, Jackie, a Coast Guard Petty Officer draws the attention of street preachers in New York, who believes she is involved with the coming of a new Messiah.

Bernie who had only met Jackie is intrigued but unsure why.

Jamal the prophet of the coming black messiah.

John a software creator becomes the center of attention of all involved when power, energy, sex, and death, weave their existence as they become joined in a vision of the Universal Plan and the fate of everyone.

Sex, violence, and revelations into the mind of creation are keyed into the reader as their own Chakra's awaken. Everyone who reads this book will experience an awakening triggered by their life and their energy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.R. Bowles
• Release date: May 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476408583

J.R. Bowles

Also author of CATCH A SUCCUBUS now at amazon.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The sun burned down on Jackie's face as the Coast Guard Ferry docked in the South Ferry terminal. The ferry men opened the gates in slow duty fashion, allowing the blink-eyed zombies to stumble off and enter the Big Rotten Apple. Jackie clutched her purse to her body and headed to the red line subway. It was the number one or nine local uptown and that was what most people called it, but she didn't give it a name-just a color. She had learned it from the map. Red, blue, green, those were the ones she used to go into Manhattan; those were the only ones she needed. As she walked up the street, passing the burnt-out terminal where people waited to catch the boat to Staten Island, she lowered her head. She always stared down at the ground to avoid seeing the homeless people and beggars. She had difficulty telling them no, so she just looked away, hoping they wouldn't beg her for money. Money she didn't have. She didn't feel good about being like that, but with the little money she earned she just didn't have any to spare.

She dropped her token and descended to wait for her train. She hoped the ride uptown wouldn't be as upsetting as it had sometimes been in the past. The day riders of the subway weren't too scary, but lord have mercy on your soul if you ever rode it at night. When the train clattered into the station, she found a seat, eying it for gum, and sat down. As she sat nervously glancing around, she recalled the time one man had stumbled into the train. She shuddered as his image flashed in her mind. He had been covered with sores and had got down on his knees in the middle of the car.

Please help me. I haven't eaten in four days, he had cried. I know I've done wrong. I know, I've got AIDS and my family won't have anything to do with me. Nobody will hire me. He then burst into pathetic sobs. When the train had stopped, she got off ahead of her usual stop and handed him a dollar. She had waited on the platform until the next train came to resume her ride. A small price for peace of mind ….

Fortunately, today things were much more pleasant and she was relieved the ride was uneventful. She always caught herself thinking, each time she came to this teeming hive of humanity; that anything at all would happen to her here. Jackie got off the train at 42nd Street, making her way through the musky-smelling station toward the steps to the city above. She rounded the corner to ascend―standing above her was a man urinating downward. Her quick reaction was the only thing that kept her dry.

It was no wonder much of New York always smelled of garbage and urine. Public restrooms were a rarity and the ones they did have were neither clean nor safe. Jackie clutched at her bag and squinted as she entered the street. She paused, glancing around at the buildings, trying to get her bearings. Coming up from the ground usually disoriented her.

Bernie stepped off the bus at 42nd and scanned the sea of people. It was amazing to him that they came out in all this heat but of course he was out here too, wasn't he? This wasn't his favorite part of the city, but it was a good central place for starting another day of killing time. The buildings blocked most of the June breeze and he felt a little moist. He sometimes rode the subway, but when it was hot like today, it was usually twice as hot waiting for the trains. He unconsciously patted his pocket to make sure his billfold was safe.

Damn. He muttered aloud. He had forgotten to bring his ATM card. He dug down and felt a bill. When he pulled it out he was disappointed; it was only a twenty. Wasn't much in this city, that was for sure but then what plans did he have anyway, other than watching the people? He began walking, dodging the onslaught of the crowd. It seemed they wanted to play chicken: the dumb-ass just walked straight at him as if he were invisible, like they really expected him to move, even little old ladies―and he was far from invisible, at six foot and close to one-eighty. He dodged left and rounded a corner, slamming directly into a young woman.

Oh god, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention, Jackie sputtered a nervous apology. I didn't see you coming.

Trying to make light of the situation, Bernie glanced down at his zipper and grinned. I didn't even know I had a hard-on.

He watched her jaw drop in shock and embarrassment at his attempt at humor, and realized she didn't find him humorous. All this time hanging around in the city was turning him into a street-wise smart-ass. He quickly stumbled to rectify his big mouth.

Are you all right? The way you bounced back, I thought I had knocked you down. Really, I'm to blame. His responses had taken over when they collided and he had reached out to grab her. His hands still held her arms, and he looked down into her eyes with a quick appraisal. He was surprised by the intensity of eyes that stared back.

I'm fine, Jackie muttered, trembling a little, trying to regain her composure. "Uh, you can let me loose now, I think I have my balance. Her quick mind flashed in fear. Oh no, what have I done. He's probably some kind of murderer or worse. She tilted her head up and stared directly into his penetrating brown eyes, at a face she wouldn't call handsome but, rather, ruggedly attractive."

Sorry, he said, and opened his hands, freeing her. He paused, not know what to say for a moment. He wanted to rectify the damage caused by his slippery tongue, but it was suddenly thick. After his major foot-in-mouth, he wondered what she must be thinking of him. He hadn't felt this stupid since he was sixteen, almost fourteen years ago. Besides this woman's feeling and smelling wonderful, he had fallen into her eyes. Eyes that was sad and lonely. They were dark and forlorn, like a storm brewing gray in the evening sunset. Her auburn hair reached to her shoulders, and almost grazed his hands as he held her.

Excuse me. Jackie pulled forcefully away and started past him on up the street.

Bernie's usually quick mind searched for something to call her back. Hope to run into you again. He groaned aloud and muttered. How lame can I be? There are a million possible good lines, and all I can think of is a damn pun. He sighed, watching after her. There goes the vision of my dreams, and I let her literally slip through my fingers. He wondered if perhaps he could follow her, but the way she had acted she would probably have the cops on him.

Jackie stared straight ahead and increased her pace. She was dying to turn around and catch another glimpse of him, or at least make sure he wasn't following. She tried to tell herself that was the only reason she wanted to turn around. She could feel his eyes on her, following her. She slightly shook her head; that was ridiculous―but yet she was sure she could feel he was watching. She remembered his eyes, how they seemed to pierce directly to her core. She felt like kicking herself for her awkwardness, her timidity. She had no friends, to speak of, and hadn't had a date in years. She knew by the way he had smiled that he wanted to say more, but she had been so frightened she hadn't given him time. She just stormed off as usual, always on the offensive. But he had seemed normal, and maybe even handsome, if you like that sort. She smiled to herself, she did like that sort. Finally she shrugged; good looks or not, he was still a stranger. After all, appearances could be deceiving.

Bernie watched her seductive long stride longingly, and realized that when he had awakened this morning, he had felt strange. The day just felt odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was as if he were traveling at fast forward while everyone around him moved in slow motion. He tried to rationalize that it was only a feeling, but then there just wasn't an explanation for it. He grinned, totally aware of the feeling in his groin caused by his brief closeness to that exciting vision of beauty.

The white lie is what you, as the black man, have been living with. Jesus wasn't white, he was black. A strong, vigorous black man in a robe screamed into a bull horn. You've been brainwashed to the white man's plot to keep you enslaved to him. You got to listen to your own heritage. You can't trust the man. He will keep you down.

Jamal Mohammed, born Richard Jackson, had been made bitter by the lack of opportunities in his life. He knew he could do better; he was strong and smart, people naturally tended to follow him, to look up to him—but every chance he had to go somewhere, he had been squelched―and it seemed like it was always a white man doing it.

Jamal was here almost every day with his followers, and even his own speeches were beginning to become redundant to him. He swallowed and cleared his throat. As he looked around at the people moving up and down the street, mostly indifferent to him, he saw a white girl glance nervously over at him and his group. She quickly turned her head and scurried across the street to avoid them. He paused and pulled the bullhorn down to his side. There was something strange about her. She had an odd-looking light that seemed to engulf her body. He took one of his massive hands and rubbed his eyes. Turning to one of his followers, he whispered and pointed towards her.

Jamal then pulled up the horn and continued his rhetoric. The new Messiah is coming. He will be here before you know what's happening.

Jackie walked up to 45th Street and turned right, heading toward the USO. The good old USO, she thought. It had been her lifesaver, her last defense from boredom. She hoped she could get a free ticket to a play, or at least a movie. Being stationed on a Coast Guard Cutter, she hadn't been able to get back to Virginia for almost two years, and she got so lonely. Her job as a Radioman First Class entrusted her with a lot of responsibilities, and she always had to work harder than the men just to prove she was their equal. It just wasn't fair; but life had taught her not to expect fairness. But at least she had the USO. There were only eight women on her ship, and she was the most senior enlisted woman, both in rank and age. Because of the military rank structure, she wasn't allowed to date the guys she knew, though there were several that caught her attention. But she couldn't; that was called fraternization and if you got caught you could be reduced in rank, fined big bucks, or even kicked out of the Guard altogether. She didn't have any women friends, either, because she was twenty-nine and so the younger women didn't want to hang around with the 'old woman,' and the women officers, again, weren't allowed to socialize because of rank. That too was considered fraternization. So, here she was, downtown again, alone. At least there was always the USO.

Jackie entered the building and headed for the elevator which would take her up three flights to the USO. She pushed the call button and glanced around at the narrow vestibule. Although, the space was old it had been built in an era when brass was in its prime. The floor was marble and brass covered the walls. She grinned at the brass; she was sure familiar with it. The Coast Guard liked brass and it was forever, having to be polished. As she looked at the walls she could appreciate the amount of work it took to keep it shining.

The elevator hummed in response to her call and she waited patiently. Suddenly the outside door opened and three black men entered. At first she just glanced at them and didn't think anything of it. But slowly she began to feel uncomfortable as they stood there watching her. Their hair was definitely not a military cut, and they were wearing shirts similar to that of the man she had seen preaching from the bullhorn.

Uneasiness settled in on her and she thought, I better not get on the elevator with them. She decided to act like she had forgotten something, and so mumbling to herself while fiddling with her purse, she walked towards the door.

As she started to pass them, one of the men reached out and grabbed her arm.

Here, take my purse. She thrust it at him.

No baby. We want you. His voice was thick and deep.

He pulled her towards him so fast she didn't have time to say anything else. She felt herself beginning to panic. He swung her around so she was turned with her back to him, holding her arms at the shoulders. He cupped his hand over her mouth and slid the other around her arms and chest, pinning her to his body. One of the other men uncapped a syringe and grabbed her forearm, injecting a clear fluid.

Jackie struggled and tried to stomp his foot, but he had anticipated her move and was standing with his feet spread. As the needle pricked her skin, her last thought was not about her virtue, it was about her life. She gave a muffled cry before she went unconscious.

Bernie had followed the auburn-haired girl and watched as she entered the building. He knew she would probably call the cops on him, but he felt he just had to meet her. No matter the cost. As she went into the building he watched from across the street.

He wondered why she would be going in there. It didn't look like an apartment house. He looked up the face of the building and saw a banner with the letters USO printed boldly. Didn't USO have something to do with the military? She didn't look like she was in the military, did she? He thought all those women looked like diesel dykes. Was it possible?

Bernie had walked casually further down the street when a white van pulled up outside the building. Three black men got out and strolled into the building behind the girl. He couldn't help but think it seemed strange. They were double parked, which wasn't unusual in New York, but they had left the van running unattended, for anyone to steal. He crossed over and moved near the van, peering into the glass front of the building. He hadn't been there more than a second when the three men rushed out; carrying the girl he had been following.

Hey! What's going on there? Bernie challenged them, rushing forward.

One of the men turned coolly towards him and reached behind, pulling out a small handgun. The man didn't flicker an eye, as Bernie heard him pull back the hammer. When it clicked, he instinctively dropped to the sidewalk and rolled.

The man never fired the shot. He climbed into the van where they had loaded the girl and it sped away.

CHAPTER 2

As John Fleuric checked in at the TWA counter in West Palm Beach's airport, he was told, I have bad news and good news for you, Mr. Fleuric. Unfortunately we've over booked the flight and your seat has already been filled.

John started to open his mouth in protest.

The good news, the girl standing behind the desk smiled, is I can place you in First Class at no extra charge. She raised her head to look at him, watching his reaction.

John had a brief, strange flash. It was as if he could read her emotions, and for some reason, he knew, she was lying. He shook the feeling off. Why would anyone lie about something like this?

The clerk punched for several minutes at the computer terminal and looked up. She wondered who this man might be, that someone had changed his flight reservation and then placed an instruction in the computer to tell him the flight had been over booked.

John walked through the airport terminal while waiting for his flight, and thought how it looked more like a shopping mall than a terminal. As he walked up to his gate they announced first class boarding.

He walked onto the plane and handed the attendant his ticket. She glanced down at the ticket and then, slowly, up at him. She smiled as most of them always did, and said, Follow me please, Mr. Fleuric.

Her eyes had met his, and though she was smiling, he again had the feeling something was just not quite right—but he couldn't explain it. He followed her as she led him to another attendant.

Good evening, Mr. Fleuric. My name's Morgan, Morgan Cross, and I will be your attendant in first class this evening. Morgan's heart was doing a triple beat. It was him. She finally stood face to face with John Fleuric. He was handsome. Handsome didn't describe him. He was beautiful. Tall, dark and handsome. The words had been created just for him. His eyes were the palest shade of blue. She stood there mesmerized for a moment and thought, I can't believe he's the one.

Since her childhood, her parents had taught her of his coming. His birth had been predicted through the stars, down to the exact time and place. She had been told he would be here, and that the time for him to be presented to the world was at hand, even though he hadn't attained his own self-awareness of who he truly was. It was this trip to New York which would begin his awakening to total consciousness, and make him aware of his own destiny.

At this time, Morgan knew more about this man, in many ways, than he knew about himself. Her parents were members of one of the oldest orders of an ancient religion still in hidden existence, and had trained her for this purpose since she had been a child. Although Morgan was only twenty-four, she knew this was the one whom she must serve.

Mr. Fleuric, here's your seat. Please make yourself comfortable and I will get you what ever you like to drink. Morgan watched his lean muscular body as he sat down. His sensuality made her shudder; she admonished herself for the lustful thoughts she was having. This is he who had been predicted, she told herself, he is more than just a man.

John looked up at her and returned her smile. I'll have a Bud Light, please.

As Morgan went off to get his drink, John wondered at being the only one in first class. He thought it was rather strange, since they had said they were over booked. He sat back, noting the jet was one of the large ones which showed movies. That was odd too, to have a movie when the flight was so short.

Morgan returned with his beer and a glass. I will be serving you dinner shortly after we take off. It looks like you'll be the only one in first class tonight, so you will get extra-special attention. She smiled and poured his beer for him. So if there's anything you want, please call me. She emphasized the word anything and stared deep into his eyes.

Morgan knew that it was the lower chakra center which she had been trained to open; the second chakra, the sexual organs. She tingled at the thought of enticing him into a sexual liaison with her. She wasn't sure how she was going to go about it, but she had been trained for this and that was why, at the age of twenty-four, she was still a virgin.

After a short time the fasten your seatbelt light blinked on and the Captain's voice came over the speaker. He told them their flight would arrive at 9:00 P.M., and the weather in New York was partly cloudy with a comfortable 72 degrees.

Morgan walked over to John and leaned down. Let me help you with your seatbelt, Mr. Fleuric.

She reached down slowly, grabbing each end of the belt with her slender fingers on the underneath side of the clasp. She let her fingers graze John's crotch. At that touch there was an almost electrical thrill that ran through her hand all the way to her head, and back down to the base of her spine, at the feel of his male softness. She had to fight against the urge to keep from trembling.

At the feel of Morgan's hand, John felt himself begin to stir. He was shocked, not so much by her action as by his own response. Although he would be thirty next week, he was an old man by any sexual definition. He had always abstained from sex. Not because he had never had the opportunity; many women had thrown themselves at him, but he abstained because he had just never had any desire. When he had been a teenager, he had often wondered if there was something wrong with him. The conversations of other boys, on how they chased girls and scored, was like a sport. That had just never appealed to him. He had made a mistake in his choice of attending Radford University in Virginia: the mistake was that at one time, it had been an all-women's teacher college, and had just gone coed. He was one of the first men to attend the school after the change. The girls were always chasing him and asking him out. Being one of the few men on campus had made him very popular, and he had passed on many opportunities by making excuses to them that he had to study. He had even taken an evening job, just to get away from the dorm. After a while some of the girls were so frustrated by his aloofness they started the rumor that he was gay―of course the term they used back then was queer. The unfortunate thing was, he wasn't gay; that would have been some kind of sexual desire, but he truly felt nothing. He had even tried manually to get an erection. He finally gave it up, and came to the conclusion he was one of those few people who were just asexual.

John's eyes widened as he felt her hand against him. After all of those years of indifference he had finally felt something. He felt confused, as the strange sensation ran through his body to his brain.

Please call me John. He looked deep into her warm brown eyes, flecked with amber and green.

Do you live in New York, or are you just going there to visit? Morgan asked him as she stood up and surveyed him from head to foot.

I'm going there on business, John said, returning the close scrutiny.

What company are you with―or am I being too personal? Morgan quizzed.

No, no–John smiled and stuttered. That is quite all right. Please be personal. I don't mind at all. I have a computer company specializing in software. We're still small, but growing.

Your wife must be very proud of you. Morgan said, knowing he wasn't married but not wanting him to realize she knew all about him, even down to the fact he, like herself, was still a virgin―although she had sexual desire and he never had.

I'm not married. John responded with a grin. Unless you consider being married to work. Some of the people who work for me accuse me of that.

Will you be in New York very long? Morgan practically purred.

About a week. I will be leaving on my birthday on the first.

"And I bet you'll be nineteen," Morgan flattered, and gave him her most dazzling smile and a half wink.

John grinned back. "Thirty, I'm afraid. Nineteen is more like your age."

Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Fleuric.

John, please. I insist.

John, she whispered in her most sensual voice.

Morgan, I'm sorry… what did you say your last name is?

Cross, she answered. But I guarantee I'm not a burden to bare.

CHAPTER 3

The Reverend Thomas Lamb turned the key to his hotel room. He looked around at the shabby excuse for living quarters and laid his suitcase on the bed. He had been in New York before, and he hated it. He could always feel the evilness and the seedy side of the city, like a layer of festering scum on milk.

Although he was almost thirty, he looked much older. His hair had begun to fade years earlier and was now thinning. He didn't take care of his body; his waistline was pudgy from too many sweets and too many junk-food meals. He was indifferent to his body's needs.

Reverend Lamb knew something was soon going to happen. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he had been guided by voices to come here.

The first revelation had come to him only a month ago. At first he hadn't believed what he had seen; his own senses had rejected the thought. He had awakened from a dream in a cold sweat. He had been dreaming of hell and the coming of the Anti-Christ. He had never been a hell fire and damnation preacher, but had tried to practice the more gentler side of Christianity. He had always loved nature, and the beauty and love people should share with one another. But this dream had come. The first time, he had rejected it. Then it happen twice more.

The second time he had been outside at night, looking up at the beauty of the night sky where he lived in Blacksburg, Virginia. As he had stared up at the sky, he saw a face looking down at him. A voice came down to him, telling him the Anti-Christ was coming, and had insisted it was his mission to stop him.

The last time had been the most convincing. He had been in church, practicing his Sunday sermon, when the walls of the church disappeared and he was standing on the shore of a lake. The water had parted, and a voice told him he was to go to New York, for that was where the Anti-Christ was to appear. He tried to protest, but the voice said he had been chosen. He tried to argue that he wouldn't know what to do, but the voice wouldn't listen. It told him he would know what to do when the time came.

Thomas dropped onto the well-worn bed, placing his head in his hands. He wondered where he should start.

Quietly he prayed for guidance and strength.

CHAPTER 4

Jackie groaned, trying to clear some of the fog from her mind. She felt as if her head was in a vise grip and someone kept turning the handle. She gradually started to become aware of her body; it was like both her mind and her body must have fallen asleep, for she felt like someone was sticking her with thousands of needles. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew she was naked. Being a sensible woman, she lay there and listened before she opened her eyes. She wanted to make sure no one was near.

Slowly, and without moving her body, she opened her eyes just a slit. At first the light blinded her, and she had to adjust her eyelids to compensate. Lying still, with her peripheral vision she was able to detect she was in a room, apparently alone. The last thing she remembered was the confrontation with the three men in the lobby of the USO building.

Realizing no one was near she slowly took inventory of her situation. Moving her stiff neck to the right and then to the left, she raised her head as much as she could and scanned the area; it appeared to be a sparsely-filled bedroom. She was lying on a four poster bed, and had been tied up naked and spread-eagled. From what she could tell, there was nothing else in the room; the light above her was a single bulb dangling from the ceiling. The paint on the walls and ceiling was old and yellow. Flaking chips threatened to fall down in her face at any moment. As a Radioman, she had been trained to listen more carefully than most people, and she held her breath.

Straining her ears, at first she could hear only her heart pounding away; but as her thoughts stilled she thought she heard a foghorn in the distance. Was it night already? Then she heard and felt the vibration of someone walking closer. Then faint voices, but she had to strain to make out what they were saying. Jackie stayed clam; she had always disciplined herself not to panic, to assess the situation to determine what action was necessary.

What the hell we going to do with that white bitch? She heard.

Whatever the fuck Jamal tells us.

Well, shit, man. I think we might ought to tear off a little of that thing while we's waiting.

Jamal told us we better not touch her, not yet anyway. So don't you be doing nothing to get him pissed.

What does he want her for? He the one be talking about them white devils and shit.

Shut your mouth, man! Jamal don't do nothing 'less it's for the cause.

When's he going to be here?

Couple hours. Now go over and get us some pizza.

You go, man. I went last time.

Jamal left me in charge, so you better do what I tell you or he's gonna hear about it.

All right, man. Give me some money.

Jackie heard movement and then a door opened and closed. As she laid her head back she regretted never having had sex, because she now expected to be raped, maybe even killed. Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked to keep them from burning. She had to think. This was no time to feel sorry for herself. If she did, she would never be able to accomplish anything.

It was Saturday, or at least she thought it was still Saturday. She wouldn't be missed until Monday when

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[J.R. Bowles · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

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