As I said above this story was my way of dealing with my father's passing. My stories are rarely about one thing.
As Jonathan pointed out in part 2, this story is also about psychedelics. Current studies show a higher rate of efficacy for treating PTSD, and most mode disorders then any other treatments on the market. A fair criticism of these studies is that they have been small. But why have they been small?
Because the FDA has decided the drugs have no medical use and this makes testing in the US illegal.
We saw something very similar in the 90s. While other countries were allowing what have become the standard treatment for HIV. People died then because of our bureaucracy and every day someone dies today because of it.
It reminded me of a scene from Castaneda’s The Second Ring of Power, set also in desert in Mexico. La Gorda, one of Castaneda’s companions, stumbled upon a strange stone in Tula—an object steeped in the power of an ancient powerful sorcerer. The moment she claimed it, the stone pulled her into the sorcerer’s dying vision: the frantic flight through burning sands, the pounding footsteps of his pursuers, the tightening circle of enemies—and the final, brutal instant when they tore him apart while he was still alive.
I will have to check that story out. I know you mentioned Castanda in part 2. Thank you for reading after the 2nd part didn't land as well for you. I'm glad you enjoyed the ending.
That is really funny because you did it again there. It was your use of “eh” which I took the mean like meh, or like it didn’t work for you like the rest. Apparently that isn’t what it means.
“I stumbled back. My legs didn't work right. The ground swelled, buckled beneath me. The trail twisted like a snake. Shapes rose from the dirt, flickering, darting past me. The world was elsewhere. This was wrong.
Pieces of the trail broke off and fell up.
Run.”
My anxiety. 📈
J, this was my favorite chapter thus far. You’ve taken us on this journey that slowly drummed up suspense and intensified, and this was the epic moment where it all falls into place. The juxtaposition between protagonist to reader is just phenomenal. It’s so interesting that you’re overwhelmed with this exhausted exertion of efforts, while the reader is in the midst of a literary adrenaline rush.
This final piece pulls the emotional threads from the first two parts together with a slow, spiraling intensity. The escalation — from physical exhaustion to surreal collapse to total dissociation — is really well done.
That final moment of calm is striking, especially after the chaos that came before. It feels less like a conclusion and more like an exhale. A surrender, maybe. Or a release. Whatever it is, it lingers.
Thank you for sharing something so personal through this story. It resonates.
I like the opening, simple but strong, the dust and sweat and burning... A hissing geyser, a strange shape amid the horrid landscape... From the hot lake, strange figures emerge, from them to he narrator runs. Into the burrow...
White Room
Here they followed, and here the sweetness and freedom, the growing and remembering, you are your dream.
Shasta
Ah, here he awakens from his strange encounters with Father. Father ashes are gone, but others found the backpack at least.
A story inspired by passing, you definitely performed strongly in this three chapter work. Since this is a personal issue I won't delve too much, but it's as you said, complicated. Life is hard, we gotta find ways thru it, even when strange.
As I said above this story was my way of dealing with my father's passing. My stories are rarely about one thing.
As Jonathan pointed out in part 2, this story is also about psychedelics. Current studies show a higher rate of efficacy for treating PTSD, and most mode disorders then any other treatments on the market. A fair criticism of these studies is that they have been small. But why have they been small?
Because the FDA has decided the drugs have no medical use and this makes testing in the US illegal.
We saw something very similar in the 90s. While other countries were allowing what have become the standard treatment for HIV. People died then because of our bureaucracy and every day someone dies today because of it.
Very well written!
Very captivating.
It reminded me of a scene from Castaneda’s The Second Ring of Power, set also in desert in Mexico. La Gorda, one of Castaneda’s companions, stumbled upon a strange stone in Tula—an object steeped in the power of an ancient powerful sorcerer. The moment she claimed it, the stone pulled her into the sorcerer’s dying vision: the frantic flight through burning sands, the pounding footsteps of his pursuers, the tightening circle of enemies—and the final, brutal instant when they tore him apart while he was still alive.
I will have to check that story out. I know you mentioned Castanda in part 2. Thank you for reading after the 2nd part didn't land as well for you. I'm glad you enjoyed the ending.
Eh, why do you think, it did not land? Actually I liked.
That is really funny because you did it again there. It was your use of “eh” which I took the mean like meh, or like it didn’t work for you like the rest. Apparently that isn’t what it means.
Eh, means, I am not full confident in what I say
Oh that makes total sense. Thank you for clarifying.
“I stumbled back. My legs didn't work right. The ground swelled, buckled beneath me. The trail twisted like a snake. Shapes rose from the dirt, flickering, darting past me. The world was elsewhere. This was wrong.
Pieces of the trail broke off and fell up.
Run.”
My anxiety. 📈
J, this was my favorite chapter thus far. You’ve taken us on this journey that slowly drummed up suspense and intensified, and this was the epic moment where it all falls into place. The juxtaposition between protagonist to reader is just phenomenal. It’s so interesting that you’re overwhelmed with this exhausted exertion of efforts, while the reader is in the midst of a literary adrenaline rush.
Well done. All around, this was aces.
Thank you so much. I was wondering if I lost you with part 2, or if it was just you being sick. Part 2 is probably the strangest as a stand alone.
As for anxiety. That is the emotion I am most familar with.
Noooo, I was just dead to the world for a solid week there. I’m still playing catchup!
I know. But I will always assume it's me until proven otherwise. It's the same voice that plagues this story. You are good.
This final piece pulls the emotional threads from the first two parts together with a slow, spiraling intensity. The escalation — from physical exhaustion to surreal collapse to total dissociation — is really well done.
That final moment of calm is striking, especially after the chaos that came before. It feels less like a conclusion and more like an exhale. A surrender, maybe. Or a release. Whatever it is, it lingers.
Thank you for sharing something so personal through this story. It resonates.
Thank you as always Jenifer. I'm really happy it hit all the way through for you. Next week I'm releasing a Science Fiction story.
So much of our heath hinges on the things we chose to surrender to.
Volcanoes!
I like the opening, simple but strong, the dust and sweat and burning... A hissing geyser, a strange shape amid the horrid landscape... From the hot lake, strange figures emerge, from them to he narrator runs. Into the burrow...
White Room
Here they followed, and here the sweetness and freedom, the growing and remembering, you are your dream.
Shasta
Ah, here he awakens from his strange encounters with Father. Father ashes are gone, but others found the backpack at least.
A story inspired by passing, you definitely performed strongly in this three chapter work. Since this is a personal issue I won't delve too much, but it's as you said, complicated. Life is hard, we gotta find ways thru it, even when strange.
Thanks for writing and sharing!
Thank you for taking the time to comment in detail. I really appreciate it.