Falling Through the Sky

By Wyley Foster

I fell to earth when I died. I fall now in the blue, blue sky. The darkness is the question, "Am I alive?" The answer is darkness too. You don't understand the vice like grip about my chest, the Magican Heart, a feather weight upon my soul, and I still fall in the blue, blue sky. I am of, "The People." The second culture of humanity,”to see the birth of our past from a world, "A Garden of Eden World"

Life is a gift, death a certainty, and I died. I came to here, I chose here, the blue, blue sky, to fall eternal, to feel what was robbed of me. You still don't understand, I choose to make this fall eternal, I teleport myself back up, up into the land of the blue, blue sky where the air would rob my life, tear open the lining of my lungs if breathed this air pure and true, so thin it is.
I am of, "The People." The second culture of humanity, to grow, to see the birth of our past on a world, "A Garden of Eden World," where life came, life grew, life made humanity, and to spite all the chances to fail, "We the People lived." We lived not an hour, not a moment, not a century, but an eternity to this minute, this second, a place in time we call now. We grew in number till one cannot count us, and we populate the universes, free, and proud.
Learn of us in my story, in my telling, and maybe find something of yourself here.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wyley Foster
• Release date: Jul 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463383483

Wyley Foster

Born in Salem, Oregon. Always loved to read, HG Wells, Frank Herbert, Robert E Howard, are but a few to name. While reading discovered many places in the Southwest which included the state of Texas, and countries like Mexico and Canada. Seen it rain in New Mexico, seen the sun in Phoenix, saw a Lake of Salt, watched a river begin and end in the same state without going to the sea and so many many things. Now it is time to tell a story, with memories, from a boring life. So kick back get your photons flying off your reader and enjoy a world of words least they vaporize into our future as relics found in the sand. Wyley Foster

Book preview

A Magican Heart of the Heartman Institute,

The Traveler's Heart

Falling through the Sky

By Wyley Foster

Copyright 7/14/2019

All Rights Reserved This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

This story contains some violence, and alien cultural morals. These elements of violence, and morality may require some supervision. Not recommended for children.

Thank you.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Introduction

This is the story of, The People. You don't know them, so don't expect the answers here, but many answers are needed. Here goes a few words of explaining anyway, though: Chaos comes to Order then to Chaos, not one universe, but, many universes, many, many particles in the quantum foam, there is an energy ever present everywhere, perhaps it is the energy of creation, perhaps it is God, but know this as certain, this energy harnessed is magic, is preternatural gadgetry, is martial chi, is moda mechanica, and the making of life itself. It has darker faces, this energy, and it has rule, not of law, but physics, of what it allows, and what it denies. Taking more than you should have is peril, using more than your body can handle is your incinerate fiery end, and all this is known to The People as true as rain brings life to all.

What you learned above is but what you take into your heart, more will not be said. The quest goes forth, and learn for no teacher can ever best your own heart, no instruction can be more practical than having done, and that said no more will be said. Except have pity for those found wanting knowledge, for those at the mercy of knowledge's sharp teeth, for what eats them will only fill its belly, and not teach, and that said is more than what should be said, so no more. There is more, but I have said my piece, read on if you want.

Prologue:

I cannot tell you what I feel, I cannot say words, I can only breathe. I am on the edge, where life, or death well up, and take you. Right now it is life, and though I have lived, and died. And, I was brought back to life, to live again, I still cannot say any words.

I fell to earth when I died. I fall now in the blue, blue sky. My breath draws from oxygen tanks, my mind draws from from darkness. I fall towards the blue, the deep blue sea, and the darkness is my mind. The darkness is the question, Am I alive? The answer is darkness too.

Can you hear your soul? Can you hear your mind? I fall in the deep, deep blue sky, ever rushing towards the end of my fall, into a darker blue of the ocean, as far as the eye can see. Not a speck of land, and I fall, and fall, and fall again, and again and again. Do I spend a day, an hour, in this forever unending fall, made by my choice, by my heart, or is this the whole of my lifetime? What is left of me?

Did my answer, the question to my soul, scream at me? Did I ignore this scream, I fall now, towards the waters of my deep blue sea, my soul is blue, my spirit is blue, and my mind is blue. Was blue the answer?

I fall in the blue, blue sky, and I know why, just a memory forgotten in the rush. For the blue, blue sky holds me in an embrace of keep falling, falling, and falling. It is my drug.

You don't understand I fall by choice, I lay upon the air as I fall, a feeling, a feeling of blue, for the etherealness of the air supports me not at all. I fall. You still don't understand, I choose to make this fall eternal, I teleport myself back up, up into the land of the blue, blue sky where the air would rob my life, tear open the lining of my lungs if breathed this air pure and true, so thin it is. I started lower where it was safe without a mask and oxygen, and every teleport up brought me closer here, where five minutes of air is all that is left of my life.

You don't understand the vice like grip about my chest, the life that this weight gives, the Magican Heart, a feather weight upon my soul, and I still fall in the blue, blue sky. Life is a gift, death a certainty, and I died. I came to here, I chose here, the blue, blue sky, to fall eternal, to feel what was robbed of me.

The bands of air density change, and the thickest air of the blue, blue sky that comes to ocean's edge will let me fall into the ocean's water, the blue wall, to splatter me, shatter me, and make me dead again. So far away, time would say in the blue, blue sky, and five minutes of air turn to three.

It will take me a full minute to leave the blue, blue sky, to go someplace else, to dimensional travel, to stand in another universe on the soil of an Earth, a green Hell world. A dirt world, where life abounds, and I can breathe. Where I am supported by green plant, oxygen, by brown dirt what makes mud with water. Where I can stand, and fall no more. It seems a boring place, but a place I can live. I can live after death, I can walk, talk, sex, think, and all the sorted things of life. I cannot feel my heart, it is a Magican Heart, and you know not what this means.

I am of, The People. The second culture of humanity, to grow, to see the birth of our past on a world, A Garden of Eden World, where life came, life grew, life made humanity, and to spite all the chances to fail, We the People lived. We lived not an hour, not a moment, not a century, but an eternity to this minute, this second, a place in time we call now. We grew in number till one cannot count, and populate the universes, free, and proud.

I live as one of, The People, I wanted to be a Hero, I trained to be a Hero. In one second, and accidental murder of me, my heart within my body blasted with a spell of The People, The Force Mage Blast. I died, my body preserved by the request of my murderer, his Death Insurance Policy was used to give me a Magican Heart from the Heartman Institute.

I live now without my heart, I live now with my Death Certificate, I live now with my dreams of being a Hero as dead as I was, as dead as I feel now. My heart does not beat! It is a Magican Heart. It runs, operates by magic, you see we are, The People, we are users of magic, and that of Mechanica, cybernetics, is a poison to us, our bodies.

Why build a heart artificial that moves and wears out? This is how we as The People think. We build a heart that moves blood through magic, no pumping, though I still have a pulse at my wrist or neck, I do not have a heartbeat. The Death Certificate is fair, I died. Till it takes your dreams away, this death. But, who that does not have a dream ripped from them by the law, how will they care about such small matters that don't affect them. They care not untill they are such the victim of these legal words, and even now I do not disagree with the law, with these words that rip at me, my heart's desire to be a Hero; for, me to be a Hero, I would always uphold the law, and protect, The People. People with Death Certificates, cannot be, or remain a Hero, it is our law.

Have you questioned the word Hero yet? You know not the word, we are the same as you might expect, and we are different than any word of Hero you have ever heard of in your language of words. I cannot explain it, I can say, Can you imagine a culture without soldiers, without generals, admirals, and even politicians that would, or could control their military? If you can, there is hope for you in understanding our word, Hero, for we are like nothing you can understand if all you know is the Military Soldier Society.

It is strange to say it is our Law that leads us, our Judges proclaim our actions against others, and in the end it is the Heart of the Hero that must decide to fight, to care for The People, and protect what we are, to protect "Who We Are." And, that is our definition of the word, our word Hero. We only hope you understand that we are serious when we go to war, and for those