The Last Connection

By Richard Wesley Clough

More of the adventures and poems of the juggernaut spirit clashing with physical reality that might either belie or prove his true status in the black hole.
The fact it exists became, “quite a coup by him of French lettered desire as I began toiling on this reverie on a midnight dreary feeling cold and weary,” was a little of the eloquence I perused and felt as I gimbaled my way through the seething morass into the ethereal light.
Thanks to this unorthodox alchemy, the Speed of Light’s original concepts have been broadened by using the technique of seeing a glimmer of something almost other-dimensional than pulling it coolly into reality after first applying some moderating effects to make it palatable to those who otherwise couldn’t understand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669856337

Richard Wesley Clough

N/A

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COPYRIGHT © 2022 BY RICHARD WESLEY CLOUGH.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/09/2023

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

Mysteries

Croix De guerre

The Black-Hole Agent

Precognition

The Recovery

The Devil

Herr Clough

In the Hallowed Halls of the University

The Mystique of Time

Destined to Write

The Spirit of a Writer

Minimum Wage

The Fourth Time

Death

Shang Croix

Writing

Running

The Brain and the Heart

The Last Survivors

The Spectrum of the Unknown

Evolution

The Black Hole

Spirits of the Division

Santa Monica and Reality Catching Up

Overload

Being in Society

Changes

Dr. No

Loveland, Iowa

The Cemetery and the Garden

The End

The Army of Glory

Philosophers and Murderers

Dark Southern Night

The Ephemeral Summer

August and November

The Spirit of Genius

A Midnight Dreary

The Late, Late Show

Chesapeake

The Siren Song

The Last Spartan

Freedom Again

Evolution

Who’s Who

Twilight

From the Old

Richard

The Gladiator

Life in Price

Philosophers and Murderers

Number One

Number Two

Number Three

The Mall Principle

An Insight Into Mental Illness

The Therapists

The Therapists

Deep Locale Key

Condensation

The Reason

Tidbits

The Phantom Prison

The Plague

Skid Row Hotel

The Real Release

Marine Street

The Solar Eclipse

Infamous

The Last Connections

To Live and Die In La

Life Shaping Experiences

The Painted Picture

Nabokov

Dune

Moby Dick

Tennis Anyone

Time distortion

Arrowhead

The Apex

At The Point of the Crime

Surfing

Ghost Rider

The Last Connection

Hollywood Hell

All Roads

Land Spouts and Fires

The Epic

The Divine Comedy

Upon A Death

The Principia of Mathematics

The Rainbow

THE QUIET TOWN 2

The Fiftieth Anniversary of Stalingrad

Melancholy

Character Assassination

COVID

Phantom Releases

Gymnastic Girls

Church of the Greater God

My Style

Confusion

What Is Boring?

Fun Runs

Pop Ups

Overdose

The Long Journey

The Far Pavilions

More of the adventures and poems of the juggernaut spirit clashing with physical reality that might either belie or prove his true status in the black hole.

The fact it exists became, quite a coup by him of French lettered desire as I began toiling on this reverie on a midnight dreary feeling cold and weary, was a little of the eloquence I perused and felt as I gimbaled my way through the seething morass into the ethereal light.

Thanks to this unorthodox alchemy, the Speed of Light’s original concepts have been broadened by using the technique of seeing a glimmer of something almost other-dimensional than pulling it coolly into reality after first applying some moderating effects to make it palatable to those who otherwise couldn’t understand.

MYSTERIES

Before what has stimulated me to write my great insights converges to obliterate this runner, I’ll make this last effort to substantiate my existence.

In the beginning, religion was the product of Pretoria’s scientists to try and curb the black sickness sweeping the world incurably. It was thought that its introduction in the world’s infancy could have some power over the zombies as one righteous faction after another fell naturally by the great forces backing their ignorance—an ignorance that did, in fact, bolster the errant Christianity until the apex of time when the zombies intuitively sought to overpower their own sickness by the fact of their sickness. It seemed easy in light of this portrayal, but when one factors in how they had been misled to protect the initial fallacy, it became a sort of divine comedy for them to do this. As voracious and successful as they were, it didn’t change the fact that some people who were both dead and alive had cleverly led them astray, but those same enigmatic people knew it was only time before the zombies succeeded, which was when they sent me at the apex.

It was futile I felt as I watched them use me to resurrect their sickness against the inhibitions that had been implanted in the beginning.

In this apex, religion was just as much a hindrance to me as them, but it was religion that became my only hope when I wrote about how the world was changing and other things based on my growing perceptiveness. In other words, I had to prop up my nemesis, religion, as unlikely as this might be, by the sheer hope that some truth of its existence could counter the zombie surge. Of course, in league with the unknown inverse principle, the more truth there could be to a religion that does have life after death, the more it worked against my efforts. This and more I was finding out, like how my healthiness drew venomous attacks.

It was all part of more than a curse but a truth that became ever maddening in showing how my precognition of its impediments set me up for the purported mental illness they saw in my great resilience. Because they weren’t sentient beings but zombies, leaving it to my wife—with all her privileges of my sacred act in the dilapidated house—to cast the last stone.

Sure, I like to think fantastically positive things like she’s my wife and has all these privileges due to me, but it’s that unreality invoking the inverse that gives her the strength to cast the stone even if it’s so unbelievable that she really could even be my wife.

My real wife could be that mysterious girl whose debacle would put me behind the fornicating couple that profited from my sleazy act this time.

It would, therefore, be a great struggle the next life to overcome how the fornicating couple who could be so far behind used the inverse to catapult themselves beyond my real wife.

It was real smart how she used the slight football player on me, but it tapped into all things that couldn’t be reconciled like my glorious losing fight at Stalingrad.

For the mysterious girl to say he won was just like the last meaning of the last bitter onslaught and all that came. Of course, if the Germans won and I was dead, it could have been just as bad because my father, Jose, might have my skin more dark colored for this new life of tribulation. In other words, as much as I contribute to one side’s victory, I become the representative for the loser, which explains the hopelessness Pretoria implanted for me to deal with the greater question beyond whoever won or lost but resolving the zombie world into the proper light at the unavoidable apex.

This, in a sense, answers the changing course of the world as it spins into an ever tightening structure to fit into the little place the black hole has created for it. Because in the beginning, besides religion, there was just life that was colored by politics as denigrating as those politics could be but was spiced by a growing wisdom, technology, and populace that, in the end, couldn’t fit in that small place relegated by the black hole the same way men launched their vain wars that were against the gods like Troy, but then the inverse demanded this sacrifice to reach the greater sacrifice. I’ve seen it at work in my own life. In accord with the special program, I was good until I fell, but in life, it’s all a special program that considers all endeavors, like there is a god where someone special like me can find the special program even if the same Bible toters can’t believe God’s works.

What kills me isn’t bullets or bombs but the great burden these beings placed on me in line with the game theory of existence I espoused in the prior Speed of Light. Like I said, they’re both dead and alive, and their interactions with me were as variable as a barometer, which kind of explains how A Weather Story never made a dime since it was just the tip of the greater story.

It’s this variability, both pro and con, and my resilient utilization that keep me going and power the world’s apparatuses as if they’re connected to the psychic kinetic powers I orchestrate.

Like in the greatest math problem—no matter how much data one interjects into it, it is unsolvable. But then there’s my incorrigible wife, who might just appear at the real apex contrary to what I believe exists right now; and that wife isn’t the mysterious girl who’s all part of her retinue but the black-hole agent who always must prove herself stronger than her husband before she can reap him. Therefore, in light of all my efforts and considerations, it has been necessary in a way that was all a wasted drama in order that my wife would, in the end, prevail in spite of all my irrational attempts to avoid her. It might even explain how I survived as a hero in World War III in 1981 when the army wasn’t overrun by the zombies because such an incredible person in denial of his wife’s meaning always survives except when the love is reciprocated. This could mean the war is only a part of my mental gyrations similar to the Forbidden Planet when resolution between my wife and me negates the whole need for the conflict. But because I created her, does she want resolution? Isn’t my act, in itself, a reaction to the black hole’s imposition than any breaking of its laws that supposedly created her?

Of all these accruing mysteries, only Pretoria knows if, in fact, Pretoria isn’t just the product of a deranged mind. But then, does the truth ever come out in a world that is essentially unknown and possibly founded on something errant that created the whole constellation in the first place?

CROIX DE GUERRE

What I originally expressed on the Croix was based on a pervasive sentiment surrounding my sexual deficiency. First of all, I wasn’t deficient sexually, but it was the nature of this age of the living dead that despised the positive approach to life in cynical mockery and even murder that made me feel deficient.

If one read about the girls I knew early in life, which I wrote about, one would know there was the possibility of sex that didn’t happen almost as if by winning the fights. I made myself appear the champion of what’s positive or the apparent self-righteousness of life. Usually, that would be good, but in light of this unknown sordid age of justice that unemotionally houses and destroys the righteous while upraising the relative demons, I had struck a blow below their radar and caused a schism in their web.

It was a schism that, when the living dead bypassed my coup by simply saying the girls were too young in light of those boys who lost it, set the stage for my entry into a hospital that had like tendencies to reward those I had beaten with the pussy instead of me. So there began a struggle with them trying to deceive and discredit me where, in time, people thought they were right because the hospital was just a place to reward those like I initially beat. Of course, I had originally won and wasn’t a loser in the real sense, only in the living dead’s anger. It was this rift that caused the authorities, who began to see the problem, to institute a form of therapy called the mall to see if the hospital could really dispense with therapy other than just killing me for being a retard.

The authorities had seen, in prison, how people were unemotionally housed despite all their claims of innocence. They had seen the worst offenders in the hospital released like their offense was good for them. They had seen the hospital make a psychotic patsy out of me that if I wasn’t shot, I would have been the terror in prison. They had seen them lead me to a fall with no defense other than my written interpretation of the situation that was hampered by some pessimism no one understood.

Because this so-called retard was someone who once ran the whole length of the beach muscularly in the soft sand as well as ace many courses in spite of the normal success of the living dead to ultimately confuse the living, I was confused about putting things together, and this is how I discovered the Croix.

The Croix was the ascendancy of the evil over all we previously believed in.

In the original, I said that when I did it with Carrie in France, it disturbed the evil lord of this world who then sent his devils in response.

This may be true for me and the idealism I stand for but for the Croix to exist for them would mean man must have become insane, which I see happening now.

Of course, the Croix would be in France since they’re such a sexual legend.

The Croix had as its backdrop the formerly stout Germans foolishly goose stepping away to be destroyed in Russia, leaving the door open for the Americans, which is sort of what is happening to me now in terms of my pursuit of idealism.

Instead of dying, however, I’ve been feeling the Croix’s onset because it was aimed at my whole purpose to institute the Shang, or Shangri-la, that is the ascendancy of idealism instead of man’s submission, which the Croix represented.

In the original, I mentioned Carrie and me taking the Croix back to Santa Monica while awaiting the next summons of the greater army since it was the army of glory that set the stage for the Croix and the Shang’s struggle for supremacy.

It was this truth that made me begin writing in high school by the girls’ initial obstinacy. It was a warning sign only I could foresee in the same invisible way I knew when they said I was paranoid meant they were trying to kill me. Of course, I seemed paranoid because I could survive. So, of course, I began writing even though I didn’t really know why. It was some precognitive preparation to use my brain.

Once this struggle between the proper use of the Croix by the Shang, instead of by man’s natural penchant for just the opposite by the laws of the world’s constitution few understand, is resolved, I can see little motivation to write what most writers have been writing in ignorance of the prevailing struggle. However, like I said about the call of the greater army that can only happen in the next life, I might start writing in line with the heretofore discussed precognition. It may seem foolish in light of a Shang Croix’s victory, but then it’s the nature of precognition to be seemingly foolish when the Shang is at stake, as now; and, like now, Carrie would be just as offended then as it may be the reason for her feeling of offense now. But then that’s the nature of a woman whose spirit was the power behind this whole thing because as tawdry as sex may be, in reality, it’s still the vision of a Croix de Guerre no man can resist.

THE BLACK-HOLE AGENT

From the past that was like the future in relation to the way the people of the future in the black hole would foresee the future, I was indoctrinated on what would be to the future of that strange ethereal planet called Pretoria that was Earth. Here they envisioned all scenarios in order for the runner to use the outer lip of the galactic black hole to travel in time to anyplace the need arose. As Pretoria was being enveloped by the black hole, their technology was such that they could shield most of its venal effects while launching their missions. Pretoria existed in a form of stasis that used its missions to better infuse their society almost inversely to how the black hole was affecting them. It was a form of vampirism their world in the future did to individuals of which I, the runner, was well versed. Nothing could be done of their vampirism but ours, which was just as loathed by the living dead, planned to send me to find an answer in the future regarding how Pretoria could survive the black hole’s final onslaught.

The intricacies of this science relied on the runner’s precognition, the runner who otherwise was born into their diseased world with no real knowledge other than his precognition. It was essential for his protection against the living dead.

The road to finding the answer began arduously by putting together the bits and pieces his precognition showed him. All the while, he felt the living dead’s malice and misunderstanding, which his birth cloaked him into his twenties before his natural traits exposed him. They tried killing him and then said he was mentally