Running Catch on Oozren Path Part Ii: Deluded

By Raymond Ortega

As we look into Odtrods world we see that his conscience is tested and the human timeline is investigated, Then two honest hunters in the woods on earth run paranoid with delusions that are in possession of them. Can they escape death?
Then in another solar system, we have superior minds struggle with Leptide intelligence that is evil. Can they win this time? Finally, an answer is given as to what caused the timeline chaos

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514404966

Book preview

Zomchute and the Synthetic Presence

As I look upon the lead Oozrendyne in this season of abductions, I realize he appears to be half there. One part of Zomchute is consumed by his pulling the rod on the Leviathan fish we call trouble. Rodding the truth is his pastime. There are questions as to whether Leviathan presents itself as a thought form, a behavior fragment, a harsh damnation, a killing rationale like the Ossado, or pure evil. When does it do this and why? And as you would hear yourself probe and self-consult on a problem, Zomchute hears himself talking all the time. He says to himself, Evil wind, why are we here disturbing the net of lives we seek to help? You should do better with the spirit power given to you.

The other half of his thinking mind is collecting on the many synthetic attributes that accumulate on his staff of Leptide time runners. He is a medicine man in many levels. I and Eohmdoo are part of the staff, and so Zomchute’s job includes healing us of the artificial presence that harshly falls on us as Leviathan M-Tudes. Since we adjust reality through our time-runs, too many of those Leviathan appendages collect to reject our choices. Will evil and its possessing attribute willingly come forth, rabid at the mouth, oppressing time to follow its rule? When this happens, the universe tilts toward the irrational, and we become wrong with choice. Thus, there are episodes when Zomchute must knock common sense into us so that the Leviathan sores fail with their cruel justice.

Like a spider hiding in a crevice, Zomchute is in deep strategic ditch-making. The promise is that he will have interesting conversation so as to manipulate the LM-Tudes around us, and currently, his Oozrendyne body manifests alien insect characteristics. Zomchute, at this moment, correlates with the hairy tarantula spider your Earth shelters. Hairy strands of hair jettison at inopportune lengths on his body. For example, his face has five-inch hair, and his ears string out hairy filaments of protein four inches long. You might think he would trim his hair, but he wants to be natural. So he lets his hair grow as his DNA wishes. Such are the physical characteristics of this Oozren species.

And true to Leviathan’s goal of terminating outcomes, it came to be that the Ossado killing rationale comes back to haunt us while Zomchute is talking. The evil shadow in our telepathic minds is a walking monolith of antisocial behavior. It is weak in discipline and a baby toward self-responsibility; horrible eerie sounds emit from the grey shadow, creepy static electron clouds reveal the ghostly noise in our minds to be guided by someone’s avenging thought form. Mindful of the optimism the inflated carcass held, Zomchute allows the pollution of the killing rationale to surface, and pure cold indifference is the first feeling, obscene approval is the second, and within us, unstable breaking of morals is the third. Then, we see a heavy eyelid expose itself. Lost and vacant, its morals are losing patience; Ossado wants to kill. Easily, the evil luster slopped onto Zomchute’s spirit uninvited; the avenging killing rationale has crossed the Oozren’s legal spirit boundary, and Zomchute glares obesely. The posture is contrary to his natural disposition, and so Zomchute’s glare kept moving to the side as if to hide from his own good morals, this while the avenging thought form kept moving to the side as if to hide from Zomchute’s offensive glare. Then, Zomchute’s bolting reflexes move to seize the rack of false virtue banging into us; arrgh, went our telepathic mind as the evil Ossado monolith form felt Zomchute’s tyranny gross! Then, the pure Leviathan spirit form came out to talk to me as its underling Ossado rose up to move into another soul, where Eohmdoo then slugged it out with gusto; she blares out high notes of singing commands: Do unto others as you would want done to you, she says. And unfortunately, the greater Leviathan evil will challenge me to know the truth as I hear someone talking inside me.

Odtrod, where does common sense go? I wonder of the consequences growing in the future, says the evil thought form, with it burning ever onward to say, No one on Earth will know his role if we let things continue with superstition. Since the beginning of the human record, anyone important has callously arrived at the juncture where men wantonly curse for the good of self-interest. Is that right, Esoup (dense stone)? Have me do their dirty work when those same curses are made of pointed glassware opinions, brittle with the emotional color of green envy? Individuals so envious that when they are unable to succeed, they pour polluted water on the competing souls they confront.

Feeling the human condition to be sound with purpose, and with full acceptance of my responsibility for my commission on Earth, I quickly took the opportunity to argue pieces are missing from his prejudice assessment. Not all humans curse, and the ones who do have dead weight to carry into the future. I state the alibi to dilute the presence of his grudging hate as hell will crash down onto my commission’s spirit. I say this as I stand away from Zomchute; he might catch a bit of this hell because of his obese glare. Temporarily, Zomchute is of the same wavelength of anger as the Leviathan’s. Then, a dart of a thought form eggs me on to be as offensive as a large monitor lizard tearing into flesh. Evil imagines my thought structure to be so and expects it to be done. But I hold back from becoming the terror because the thought form talking to me seems to have a life of its own, such that I see infecting pus grow on the floor; the groping hallucination injects fear into me. Later, welts and holes are found on my back indicating where the vulgar thought form had burst forth his anger onto me. But these are temporary things that are instigated by aggressive envy. I dart to and fro, right and left, and up and down in the telepathic jungle we create so that the abominable does not catch me sleeping, and evil is still irritating to communicate with telepathically. I save my face from hurtful ejecting CAG waves, and silly me pretends to accept at face value what tradition has said is sensible opinion. I tell the evil, My commission curses every chance he gets. Those around him rely on it too. It’s easy to do: drop low with your heart, put your gut into the malicious will, and eject precious spirit power you cannot afford. I go on to say, Do not worry. Those cursing individuals fail every time their self-interest confronts the tangle of spirit law. They do not get their way. I say this to Zomchute as it is easier to project onto him what I would say to the evil thought form if it were outside of me as a third person.

Furthermore, shouts Eohmdoo, the middle class is now ready to rise from their ignorance! Divining the future with water and crystals will be a habit of the historical past. Soon science will take over to bring facts and truth to the forefront. So don’t be so cheap, crass Leviathan and the Ossado you control, when you gather your senses to find the truth. Eohmdoo knows there is constant back-and-forth movement between the many forms evil wishes to display.

Then, to willfully intrude, Zomchute lets his protruding voice cloud to mix with the killing rationale around us. He projects forth an image of his mouth up to two feet in front out from where he stands; the effect growls trouble to me. I do not know what to expect. Outburst after outburst rolls and vomits chaotic wind all around us, causing centrifical movement in our telepathic waves of communication, to the extent the killing rationale presence falls away from us as it feels words of guilt and shame from Zomchute’s shrinking that which is common to evil and what is inside our minds. Then, Leviathan’s many forms come out at once to deny Zomchute’s authority. Our robust willpower counters its accusations made upon us to complete the controlling push Zomchute initiated. Evil knows exactly where we stand; he orbits near us as our heads jerk with the energy of a snapping willow branch, and the ambience in the room becomes a blur between vision and mood. I see and feel the Oozrendyne cause our legal spirit boundaries to repel.

The move to agitate evil is temporary. Our medicine man wants me to feel the obstacles Leviathan promotes, so Zomchute moves to annoy me with cannon-sized moods; anger, revenge, and paranoia enter me, as these are the facts to entertain. All this happens while the medicine man lets his growl and glare continue to repel Leviathan and the killing rationale from us. I do my part by touching the anger, to certify it is a cry for change. Revenge, it seems, is an obscene will, and paranoia is the last defending act of the mind before rash behavior takes over. Does Zomchute poke at my unseen habits to make me a buffoon, insulting me to say I need to act with rationality, or is he exposing the killing rationale? I don’t know. Then, as he continues to play the part I bestow on him, he speaks angry pointed words that pierce my good nature, and I have the added feel of damnation on my head.

Your ass is in the hot ash, and hot gas explodes from that ash, hollers Zomchute.

And then I know he has been testing me with his words, ill words that might form mean action. His anger ignites the methane I harbor, I become a pet peeve, and I cannot believe I have that much methane in my spirit. Eohmdoo has also now allowed the touching of evil’s delusion to occur again within her, anger percolating up to our level, to mingle with our soul.

Now, Zomchute knows I have a mean disposition when wrongly accused, so I cannot risk insanity, as thereafter, I might go against my responsibility and give blunt-force trauma to my commission’s well-being. But why is this so? First he repels the evil, then he lets it come near. I wonder, What is he doing? Flustered like a rabid jackrabbit, I discipline myself to be relaxed, and I focus. I stare at Zomchute and stop all blinking so as to let the all-seeing eye make its move. I assert there is someone behind this evil thought form and someone behind that presence. So even if I cannot see who the intelligence might be, I pursue to play the fool.

By that, I mean I tragically state my belief in what I say. No, none with common sense would do that, but I pretend so that I might absorb the moment cruel. And so I believe anger’s steroid trait and the change it wants, making me bold. Yes, I will believe hot exploding gas comes from me, from my mouth, as I too can welt anyone’s face with abrasive crap; damnation should be for all. Though it is obscene, I feel good and know I look good to the throne of megalomania as such is the grandiose feeling I now have. For at this moment, I have no roots in humanity. Even so, paranoia will tell me that as good as megalomania feels, it is an erroneous reality directing our happening.

But, as I, the fool, grapple on erratically, evil slurps my spirit energy causing evil’s dark shadow to appear and absorb the moment in me that is angry, obscene, and paranoid. It believes it has its baby and that I will falter. My words expose my sins, and Leviathan will let its evil thought form grow so that the percolation of its obscene reality will distort our perception, further entangling us with obscene direction. If I let it, I might kill Zomchute, forever defeating our purpose.

I inflate upward with the spirit of the evil tyrant the Oozrendyne knows so well. I willingly cause distress and bait the thought form to come out where we can see it. I let the evil pass through me to be out in front, ahead of me where it wants to be, and infantile rage does the rest. Then, while it is out messing with my mentor Zomchute through hallucinations of demon forms bursting forth with controlling words of damnation, I read evil’s emotions, I glean from the spit of words it makes, and I escape the Ossado killing rationale for the moment.

I do not kill Zomchute, and I infer that evil believes I am in arrears with my duty, my authority, and reliability. Pestilence is what evil feels from his demon minions as they tell on me my faults. My prestige must lie in hot ash. Could it be duty has succumbed to lackadaisical habit? That would be a cruel moment for me to feel, and the fool I project begins to grow sober; I feel something more than me alter my mood, I feel the exploding hot ash, and I am jumpy with guilt and feel remorse.

But I am sober enough to know the avenging thought form delusion wishes to divest me of my charge, the soul of the robber Greeth Dohn; it is not me who fails, only a mental distortion. Twisting thought forms are placed in me to act according to laws of chaos. I wonder, Can the Leviathan, through a thought form, break spirit laws to get its way? I myself cannot believe such a thing can be; there are good rules we all must follow. How can evil obliterate those laws? Moreover, Greeth Dohn has spirit and has been my commission for two thousand years. I have been his back at every crucial point in his many lifetimes. Surely, the spirit of our maker will help out. All this soberly enters me as the subject entering my mind, what my senses have churned from the depths of the telepathic abyss.

What should be my response to this evil, demonizing, contracting delusion? Should I be embarrassed and expect low returns on my honor? I wonder, What is the price for this habit of talking with delusions? Moreover, the characteristic of a delusion is that it compounds the interest you give so that you sink further and further into the debt of false reality. I assert there is no room for docile appeasing behavior. That is not my way. So I turn tough—I tact to the belligerent side—to be the consummate fool in this delusion. I stroke the evil to feel me as I tell the killing rationale upfront,

"You are the ass. I know the truth. You are not there in mind nor in spirit to give me a good lead on the proper behavior I should promote. Am I that sinful to be crossed by fate and Zomchute’s angry words? I doubt that very much! For that infernal purity you throw at me denies the truth of my effort. I am hard as a rock and worthy of its place in the cosmos. I hear insane purpose alongside diabolical design. I know what you do. I can read the telepathic avenues you indulge in. You curse to achieve irritating spirit cleansing, and it is evil.

For if we gargle with the chaos you make, we are induced to lure the vagabond spirits who are beholden to you. They come out from the depths of the abyss. And then Zomchute and I will move to build rancorous temptations of ire and damnation upon you. Then will the cycle of accusations be obese cancer, as we scold each other to gain the upper hand, and the castle we build to cage you will torment your sense of freedom. You will receive anguish while we encourage our own shadowy dispositions. Then will the sour clown of fate know his opening and seal a set of sour events to happen."

Evil Leviathan, though, knows enough of Oozren wisdom to persevere in this delusional chaos we sprout forth, for even if I tact against him, I expose my fears to the Leviathan ego. He knows neither headache nor shame when tempted to do harm against me, so he turns to think openly of how to hurt the Leptide and human position. Should he now seize the Leptide hand that breakfast with his mind? Kill the commission on Earth? Or let the opportune hand drown Zomchute and me in Oonensog, near the Jorke vortex, where many Leviathans lay in wait to vigorously subvert the will of the Oozrendyne prerogative. He thinks to go after the human position first, then after Zomchute and me.

The killing rationale stabs on to say, No, the hanging of the soul will be done on my hour of command. You and the human egos must pay. This delusion suits me fine. I have been sewn to this line of reasoning for too long. We scold for a reason. I want screeching women and sobbing men abducted, guilty, feeling emotions. Must extract the happy satisfaction from their hearts. I want heartfelt passion as payments, the same thing they so willingly seek of their fellow men, and I want to catch the truth that I hear while doing so because we are not done with this lifetime. The Leviathan will must persevere! As he continues with his offensive command, I feel self-serving concerns enter us simultaneous with the oppressive breath of the deep voice in his deluding reality, and we are made sick.

He then says, "Furthermore, I will stone this Zomchute with truth and double the price of his debt to me, for this disturbance you orchestrate on me must pay handsomely. I will agree to be harsh with behavior and push onward with infantile negation. I nail the imbecile Oozren to my thought form. I will let the constants of nature be in arrears and in conflict with us the Leviathan reality. We Leviathans want subjects.

As for you, Odtrod, there is too much bulk in your foolish game. I claim there is a defect to your mind. It is a game of accusations and guilt feelings that you feel and play against me. Moreover, I sense there is erratic fearful action cutting into you, Odtrod, making you a pain to endure, all this while my delusion fights for control of your mind. I am righteous with damnation for a reason. Leviathans are justified to prevail!"

Your ass, I hotly interject, I have been true since the Bronze Age. By being bold in tact, I have conquered obstacles with calculation and force. I have left old men fear back in his dark times. I boldly organized humans to do good back when they were genetically modified man-dogs, and soon they will be our friends. I gestate with the pride of an alligator snapping the head off an impala. All this while you bungle the horse race we find ourselves in. I refuse to be possessed by you and reject your infantile cunning. And so, I charged everywhere in his face with accusation, death, and truth because the all-seeing eye stalking us must end its rule this time around. I tell the killing rationale its problem up front.

You have no roots in the human milieu. You scheme deep with the impossible. Moreover, your purity is self-serving and is basically indifferent to anything less than perfect. You reject outside inquiry enough so that your killing fate cannot see the colors of the rainbow nor feel the heartbeat of the sinner. Thus, we must condemn you if do bad things to the humans. Your dip into the abyss by way of soiled damnation must be stopped.

My aggressive stance harbors this logic. It is obvious and comfortable to say that the superior mind should be the outcome as it is both natural and experienced. Leviathan is such an achievement, but we know thought forms should not be killing nor trying to possess other beings. This imbecile does not deserve our portion of good faith, and so with rancor, I am emboldened to continue.

"Imbecile, can your choice to be ugly fate this hour