Koyaanisqatsi

By Justin Fulkerson

On October 25th, 1962, when the world ended, Lee Harvey Oswald was an unknown failure seeking attention he thought he deserved. Oswald awakens in the rubble, finding supplies and shelter for a while before fleeing Dallas in pursuit of an ominous figure called Phoenix that has risen from the ashes to form a new society. Local night-club owner, Jack Ruby, tells Oswald that Phoenix has brought with him a glowing book of knowledge from the future that says Oswald was supposed the kill JFK. So, Oswald sets out to find out why his future was taken from him. Through radio broadcasts, reminiscent of Tokyo Rose during World War II, Phoenix is represented as a savior. But, Phoenix is actually a time/reality travelling demon bent on destroying the human race and returning control of our planet to the alien life forms that brought us here in the beginning of time.

Outside of Mineral Wells, Texas Oswald meets White Feather, an old Hopi Indian Shaman. White Feather explains that Oswald is the Lost White Brother that has returned to bring about the Great Purification. He tells Oswald that there are two others that will join him to bring about the Hopi Prophesy. Oswald sets out on this life-changing journey and picks up a nineteen year-old Florida State University student named Jim Morrison, who carries with him the symbol of the Sun. Then, they come across twenty-eight year-old Charles Manson, who escaped from McNeil Island Prison after the bombs dropped.

While hiding from military and renegade forces overtaking the country, they set out to fulfill the Hopi Prophesy and save the world from the destructive powers of the Phoenix. These three characters have a chance to redeem themselves for acts that they have not even committed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Fulkerson
• Release date: Nov 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393834984

Justin Fulkerson

Author of An Hour for Magic, Justin Fulkerson’s literary tastes turned from science fiction (Isaac Asimov) to horror (Stephen king, of course) at the innocent age of twelve years old. His outlook on life was forever changed by the experience and his mind suffered the consequences. The creatures and scenarios running through his imagination forced him to begin his first novels while still in high school.  Twenty years later, An Hour for Magic arrived, consuming his every thought until the first 500 pages were transferred to paper. The next two in the series, Hollow be thy Name and An Hour for Maggie completed the tale. Finally, Hallowed Ground took Justin's mind into the realm of Zombie fiction. With several more novels in the works, Justin hopes that the world can survive long enough to enjoy the fruits of his imagination.

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KOYAANISQATSI ko.yan.nis.qatsi (from the Hopi Language)

n. 1. crazy life. 2. life

in turmoil. 3. life out of balance. 4. life disintegrating.

5. a state of life that calls for another way of living.

Author’s Note:

The following diary was written by Lee Harvey Oswald between the dates of October  25, 1962, shortly after the first nuclear missiles were launched against our country, and ending on  November 24th, 1963, the day of his death and beginning of the Great Purification. The journal is re-produced here, in full, including grammatical and spelling errors.

Collected here for the first time, these writing give us a glimpse into the mind of just one survivor.  Throughout, you will find facsimiles of the original diary for your perusal along with footnotes explaining various details surrounding events and places. The entire journal is on permanent display at the New National Archives in Nevada.  We would like to thank our new Government for permission to replicate and share these historical documents with our nation. 

Lee Harvey Oswald, circa 1959

The world ended just after my twenty-third birthday in 1962.  I was only 23 for seven days on October 25th of 1962.  When I say the world ended, I mean the world as we once knew it.  Millions died at the push of one red button. 

Children were playing hopscotch without a care at the city parks across the country.  Mothers were preparing dinner for their hard-working husbands that were out cheating on them even as the spaghetti reached a boil. 

There is only one thing that I know for sure and that is what I was doing at the time.  I was absorbed in an article about Jackie Kennedy in Life Magazine.  It was my thirteenth day employed by Jaggars-Chiles-Stovall, a photography production company.  Whenever I got a new job I made it a habit to find the best hiding places.  Hiding places came in handy when a man wanted to think and do as little work as possible.

There wasn’t a chance that I would pass up when it came to looking at photos of the First Lady.  She was my dream girl, everyone’s dream girl.  I have no reason to lie about what I was doing when the missiles dropped.  I was in a maintenance closet in the basement of J-C-S.  There, under the glow of a small lamp I had borrowed from upstairs, I was preparing to give Jackie a pearl necklace like non-other.  I imagined that it was I that put the lovely glint into her eye, that it was her touching me, asking me to baptize her.  Praising me for a ‘hand-made’ necklace like none that she had ever recived [sic].   Everyone in the country knew that Jack Kennedy was not worthy enough for her.  He did not deserve her and proved it with his infidelities.  

There were a lot of events unfolding within the ‘Untied’ States of America during this time.  I will attempt to piece together the puzzle of circumstances that lead to our demise as a sociaty [sic].   I will let it be known at this moment that whatever facts I disclose will be overly one-sided.  I have no way of confirming what I have heard or read at this point.  I’m not really sure why I am writing this.  It may be that it will turn out to be one of the most important docu.s [sic] to ever be written in the history of our new Earth.  This contin.s [sic] my ‘historic diary.’

Facsimile #1, first page of Oswald Diary, courtesy New National Archives, Nevada

Although my name is of little historic significance at this point in time, it will hopefully become well known in the near future.  I am but one of many trying to survive day to

day through these tragic events.  I know that I do not need to give my entire history to you in this memoir.  But, sometimes things will need to be said in order for you to grasp my perception of events. 

My full name is Lee Harvey Oswald.  My wife at the time, Marina, who was of Russian decent, was living with a freend [sic] in Fort Worth with our daughter June.   I now relize [sic] that I was not a nice man when I beat her on serveral [sic] occasions.  In my mind, I was in the right because she was so stubborn.  But, I know now it was wrong.   I was living at the local YMCA.  Definitly [sic] a great place for thinking.  In case you haven’t figured it out, things were not going very well between my wife and I.   I met her in the Sovite [sic] Union when I renounced my American citizenship and had planned on living forever in Mother Russia.  But, things have a way of changing, don’t they?  I will attach, at the end of this memoir, an example of my time in Russia. 

I wrote a journal while living there.  My emotions were in a shambles at that time and I even tried to take my own life at one point.   Since my returen [sic], the FBI has interviueed [sic] me serveral [sic] times about my time overseas.  I think I have thorohly [sic] convinecd [sic] them through intintionel [sic] misdirection that I was involved in Sovite [sic] intelligence in some manner.  Of course, that was not true, but it was fun to wacth [sic] their eyes absorb my lies.  I could see their brains working overtime trying to dissect every phrase that crossed my lips.  I enjoyed it that they thought I was a spy.  Who cared?  No one.  If any of them survived, I’m sure they think this whole thing is somehow connected to me.  If they don’t think so, I’m sure that I could act guilty enough to convince them.  I haven’t ran into any of them yet, but I know it is only a matter of time.  Right now, I am anonymus [sic]. 

The people I have come across in these last few months know me as Alek Hidell.  These survivors are completely lost when thinking about a possible future.  Their narrow-mindedness will be their undoing.  They only want to survive one day at a time.  But, I knew that we needed organization.

Let me start at the beginning once again.  I was disposing of the soiled Life magazine when the world exploded.  The closet shifted around me and I was thrown to one side, sprawling into an empty mop bucket.  I’m not sure how long I was unconcious [sic] because it was pitch-black when I awoke.

And, I would later ponder, my wacth [sic] had probably stopped anyway.   The air was thick around me as I felt my way around.  I was buried in a pile of fractured cement.  From what I could feel, one of the walls was at about a twenty-degree angle just inches above me.  I knew instantly that I was lucky to be alive.  I tried to get my bearings and remember where the door was.  It did no good.   There was no longer a door.

After what felt like hours of searching, I fonud a way out of the rubble.  There was a hole near the bottom that I reached through and felt nothing but more debris.   I’m not ashamed to admit that I did panic.  My lungs seized up and at that moment I thought I was going to die.

Than, as they say, I saw the light.  A thin beam of sunlight to my right.  I squeezed my way toward it, knowing that I was surely going to get stuck, that I was going to die screaming my guts out.

Another slab of concrete laid at an incline leading up toward the light.  Clawing my way toward the light, I felt my fingertips stripped raw, my fingernails shattering with each grasp.  I had to move serveral [sic] large chunks of rubble to escape what was left of the basement of 522 Browder Street.

I must have been knocked out for quite a while.  As I stood surveying the barren landscape, my mind refused to register what it was seeing.  My throbbing fingers were forgotten.  I prayed that I was still unconcious [sic].   I stood in the middle of Dallas, Texas and could see the entire horizon.  It was near sunset and for the first time in ages, I saw it unobstructed.  What I saw was horrific.  The sky was filled with huge clouds of dust and smoke.  The temperature was dropping rapidly.  Mazes of twisted steel littered the terrain.  Whatever had been the streets and avenues were now impassable.  

As I wacthed [sic], the sun was being slowly suffocated from the sky.  Fires raged beyond the horizon.  I could hear nothing but the whistle of unobstructed wind.  The air tasted of metallic residue.   The smell of burning fuel and flesh filled the air.  I knew each breath was filling me with eventual death from either radiation poisoning or cancer.  But, I knew worse things were on the horizon. 

I faintly began to hear an infant screaming in the distance.  It had probably been shrieking for hours and was near starvation.  I thought of my daughter June and felt heartache from my family.  I knew there was no way for me to logically locate the screaming child and that fate had dealt it a cruel blow that day. 

I had to worry about my own survival.  As I looked toward Fort Worth in the diminishing light, I knew Marina and June were gone.  I knew Kennedy had failed the ‘Untied’ States, something I had felt in my heart was going to happen for months now.  I’m not sure wheather [sic] I was in shock or not.   But, my survival instincts from my time in the Marines kicked in.  I knew that, somehow, I had just survived a nuclear attack. 

Great plumes of smoke billowed into the sky from protruding pipes that dotted the terrain.  I knew they were the gas stations and underground natural gas pipes.  The smoke was thick in the air.  More explosions rumble to the north.  More bombs or just the aftermath of the damage they caused?    I got my bearings and recalled instantly where the nearest grocery store had been located.  Scurrying in a panic over heaps of rubble that had been towering downtown architecture minutes ago, I fonud [sic] what I was looking for.   Piles and piles of canned food littered the view for what seemed like miles.  Everything was covered with a gritty substance that I knew was radioactive fallout.  I tore off a piece of my shirt and tied it over my mouth and nose in an attempt to filter out the gathering dust.