death and rising are through human flesh

8/9/2019 Death and Rising are through Human Flesh

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W a l t M a r c h , An t h o n yS t u r d e e & C l a i r e G l ow e n

DEATH AND RISING

ARE THROUGH

HUMAN FLESH


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Copyright © Walt March, Anthony Sturdee & ClaireGlowen

The right of Walt March, Anthony Sturdee & Claire Glowen

to be identified as authors of this work has been assertedby them in accordance with section 77 and 78 of theCopyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted inany form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior

permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relationto this publication may be liable to criminal prosecutionand civil claims for damages.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, andplaces are the product of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, livingor dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from theBritish Library.

ISBN 978 1 84963 794 7 (Paperback)ISBN 978 1 84963 800 5 (Hardback)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2015) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.25 Canada SquareCanary WharfLondon

E14 5LB

Printed and bound in Great Britain


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Warren WILLEN

Vice President of the USA Commercial Court, International Academy of Science and Higher Education (London)

Vice President of the International Chamber of Commerce& Industry (London)

Supported byInternational Academy of Science and Higher Education

(London, UK)


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Contents

Foreword 5

The First Day 6

What Is to Be, Will Be.

You Are Your Own Judge 27

The Second Day 44

Any Man Can Do what Another Man Has Done.

The Third Day 66

Live Without the Right to Make a Mistake.

The Fourth Day 91

Outwit Destiny or the Right to the Truth.

The Fifth Day 1 4

One Can Conquer Alone. Booty Feels the Fear.

The Sixth Day 122

There Are Times when the Mountain Goes to

Mahomet.


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Foreword

The authors of this mystic writing send their hero

on a difficult mission: investigate the cruel doubleslayings and correct the mistakes made during his

last years.

He shares his past, present, and future views of the

world as he experiences the criminal investigation.

Some may find the hero’s perspective cruel, but

the truth can't always be sweet.

For harmonization, the narration is supplemented

with 173 poems and fourteen professional

illustrations, which enhance the readers’

sensations.

I tried to prove that one can never prove.

I tried to say that one can never tell.

Among the closest people in my life,

I sought clarity, but I quickly failed.

In this persistent never-ending strife,

I cannot find a thing that I have gained.

While walking through the labyrinth of life,

I never cracked, and stronger I became!..


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The First Day

What Is to Be, Will Be.

More than eight years ago, on a sunny Sundaymorning, the dream of mine and my wife’s was

disturbed by the vivid songs of birds. We lived on

the fourth story of the five-story house. The

branches of trees “snuck” into the apartment

through windows, and birds-of-paradise

“dominated” them. Through the closed curtains of

the bedroom, the easy sunlight crept in, hinting at

the wonderful weather and the possibility of

outdoor recreation. We had no pressing reasons to

get up, so we enjoyed the possibility of lazy,

noncommittal awakening.

Being impudent, I carefully started to push my

darling from bed, hoping she would make me a cupof tasty coffee and allow me to drink it in bed. It

surely caused certain inconveniences.

The way to happiness is long,

But we should not hurry to look for it,

Finding your destiny is like receiving a gong,

It will become your protection and benefit.That year would be the ninth year of our family

life. We were proud of the result: our seven-year-old

daughter named Claire. She was born blonde, so

we had no doubts in choosing her name. With

tender caress and sweet compliments, I managed

to persuade Valerie to please my whim. Lazily

stretching, swaying her body as graciously as

Aphrodite’s, she got up. I experienced additional

delight as I observed her naked hips that


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demonstratively toyed with my wide open eyes.

Without forgetting to don a silk tunic, my wife

silently and lightly walked out of the bedroom. I

never tired of enjoying her figure as though I saw itfor the first time, every time. Fifteen minutes

passed before my wife returned. Prolonging the

pleasure of what I had seen, I closed my eyes and

refreshed my memory of her flirtatious and

promising walk.

I am saying only good words to you,

These words are like fresh drops of dew.

I want everyone to see and know that I love you,

You’re the most precious person I ever knew.

Valerie was always distinguished by her beauty.

After she matured, she had dozens of boyfriends,

but she quenched the fire of her desires and

started to live chastely. Her authority increased andshe was “praised up to the skies.” After a minute,

my daydreams were disturbed by the echo of my

daughter’s laughter, the finest sound from the

finest being. She never liked to stay in bed. Waking

sooner than any of us, Claire always guarded our

dreams with her silent occupation. Respect and

patience were only a few of her merits.

Once a little funny hedgehog

Lived with us from his first day,

Growing up in our house,

Smart and spiky he became.

He as every little kiddie

Always liked to mess around,Chasing down mice from the house,

He sometimes was very loud.

Sniffing, tramping, boiling over,


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Into fright he put our cat,

Having rather a bad temper,

He could even bite a hand.

But when our little hedgehogOnce for all our house left,

In our empty silent home site,

All of us became so sad.

Trying to look like her mother, she wore her hair

long. She tied it back in a long pony tail or

sometimes in a braid. Our daughter had a tenderly

playful, penetrating look of brown eyes. Her face

was beautified with a small, slightly hitched-up

nose. Her talkative mouth was notable for its full

lips. Round, childlike cheeks hid strong

cheekbones that she inherited from me, her father.

She also inherited some of my personality traits. I

was proud of her independent opinion. Despite herearly age, she was unwilling to lie. She was

respected and loved by a great number of friends.

Her teachers were proud and predicted a big future

for her.

Claire’s laughter stemmed from meeting her

mother in the kitchen. Having heard some noise,

the daughter hastened to see and kiss its initiator

— darling mother or father. She wanted to know

about her parents’ plans for their day off.

I had a magic dream:

The death had gone for good,

The cities got so clean,

And all our dreams came true.

The healing spring sparkled,

And love came into bloom,


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There was peace on earth,

That disappeared the gloom.

The shaded blood dried out,

As wars stopped for a time. And even if to heed,

I heard no children’s cry.

But then I woke from sleep

In uttermost delight.

To keep this dream in mind

For a long time I tried.

The next event happened as it often does in

detective films — the telephone rang. I was told I

needed to investigate a severe accident. Accidents

seemed to have increased significantly over the

last month.

Certainly, it didn’t make my ladies glad, but inour family, the call of societal duty prevailed over

personal desires.

The crystals of the truth are dearer than gems,

Inherited by us from eternity.

Atlantes could own them or aliens from space,

But they are in our hands in this reality.______________

How to know beforehand,

What to change before it’s planned?

When you become a debtor,

You’ll want to change for better.

Gently and with great love, I kissed them andleft quickly...


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There was no time for coffee in bed and many

other things.

Parting always grieves, but I sweetened it with a

promise to finish affairs as early as possible and join them later.

They promised not to feel blue.

After eating breakfast and dressing to walk in

the park, my family went for a walk near twelve

o’clock in the afternoon. The major entertainment

in our territory, allocated for the adrenaline junkies,

was the roller coaster. It was our daughter’s main

reason for going to the park. My wife didn’t lag

behind in desires. It took them ten minutes to

distance themselves from the house, and soon

they disappeared into the shadows of trees among

the sweet scent of flowery meadows.What kind of inspiration

Does any artist need?

To feel a precious moment

Or listen to the wind,

To open a small window

And see the magic world,

Where miracles can happen, And every plea is heard.

As though the merry-go-rounds tried to allure

Valerie and Claire, they went to the pond first.

Comparable in its area and architecture to a

football field, the pond was divided along the

diagonal.

Our family tradition was to feed the graceful,

majestic swans. Three pairs of these fine birds and


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a number of ducks “owned” the pond. Big and

small-sized fish mastered the translucent water.

Schools of fish rushed from one crust of bread to

another. The underwater happenings and theentertainment on its surface amused us regularly.

The sun is shining, the gardens are in blossom,

The soul is full of delight, and the mood is

awesome.

I’ve opened the window to view the upcoming

spring,

Ruling the whole world as a faithful king.

Having gone through the “compulsory

procedure” of feeding the fish, the inspired girls

headed to the attractions located fifty meters from

the pond. They were coming along the wide avenue

lined with benches that were buttressed by delicate

cast-metal legs. Between them, hoards of balloons,souvenirs, merchants, and photographers were

impossible to count accurately. On the weekend,

there were always more visitors: the business was

prospering. The avenue was famous for “endless”

temptations not only for kids but also their parents.

Having reached the middle of the avenue, andcertainly not without draining her purse, Valerie

paid attention to a lonely, sixty-year-old man sitting

on the bench. His appearance spoke of his misery.

He was dressed in worn, light gray trousers, a

sleeveless shirt, and a yellowish, semi-fresh

baseball cap. He certainly looked bleak, which

didn’t correspond to the spirit of the other parkvisitors.


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Being very kind, my wife couldn’t pass by and

not help him. Sometimes even attention brings joy.

The man was inspired by the care of the beautiful

young woman with the charming daughter. Clairewas holding her mother’s hand and a red, heart-

shaped balloon with the words “I love you.” The

stranger delicately refused to accept the monetary

support. Talking to him, Valerie gazed into his face,

alarmed by his look and manner of speaking. He

seemed to be easier first. When my wife and

daughter were leaving, the man admitted hisneediness, and suggested they exchange a small

sum of money for a book that he had. Certainly, the

book wasn't necessary to Valerie, but there was no

other way to assist, so she made the deal.

Our constant trying to find out the core

Can often lead us down the wrong way.But we came back to where we began

And look for better places anyway.

______________

In our every deed and every word,

The hidden life we try to ground,

Of someone’s undertakin g and success,

Of their going up and coming down.

So we instantly became the owners of a 300-

page book with a colorful cover and illustrations of

space. Having moved a little aside from the

stranger, the girls burned with curiosity to look

inside the book.

They were fascinated by the fancifulness and

the cruelty of the black-and-white picture across

the center spread — dogs, people... Valerie shut the


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book and turned back, immediately desiring to

return it. But the bench was empty. Her heart

pumped with agitation, stunning park amusements

were ahead, and she had no desire to grieve. Clairewas impatiently pulling her mother’s handbag

toward the long-awaited joy of the roller coaster.

Valerie tossed the book into her bag and decided

to think about it later.

In a split second, the weather deteriorated. It

seemed like all the clouds of the World gathered

above the park. Within five minutes, dark violet

clouds covered the clear-blue sky. They heard a

clap of thunder, and the space around them was

shattered by lightning bolts spearing the earth. It

started to rain immensely heavy droplets, forcing

the man to hide somewhere.

It’s getting dark and cold, The air is dense, no movement in the world,

It’s getting a little bit scary

From the weather being dreary.

Without hesitation, my wife and daughter

headed home. Our front door was only a five-

minute walk, but before they arrived, theyhappened upon a buried manhole on a beaten

path. Looking up from the footpath to orientate

herself, Valerie saw the stranger from the bench.

He stood opposite from her and held a folded

umbrella. With a gesture of the umbrella, he

indicated they could use it. Rain was falling heavily.

Taking mercy on the child, my wife agreed to thekind offer.


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We cannot escape from karma,

We should bear this curse for good,

’Cause we can’t get rid of it,

Cannot hide and flit,Living in fear and fright,

Without knowledge how to fight.

He opened the “life-saving” umbrella with a

knowing smile. The next image my wife saw was a

hospital ward and me — the husband whom she

depends on — sitting next to her. She had

completely relied on me, yet I couldn't protect my

family in that critical and fatal moment when they

needed my help more than ever, begging God to

interrupt the infinite torment of their shallow-

breathing bodies. And when it became clear that

there was no way to escape, to survive, they asked

Him to help them die quickly and with dignity.Valerie said the daughter's last word was father.

She couldn’t utter it with her bloody, torn childish

lips. Just sound... Talking confusedly, my beloved

could describe the details of the Evil acts

committed against my family. I sat next to her

hospital bed stunned, deadbeat, and overcome

with immense anguish. The most severe tragedyhappened upon my house, and it happened to

those who gave my life order and purpose. I

questioned if I should even survive. And if so, what

for?

There is no hope, no basis,

We live our lives without races.Our thoughts are full of trouble,

But we should never make it double.

Otherwise, our dreams won’t come true,

death and rising are through human flesh

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