Mental Illness

In The Resurrectionist, we find William Stark struggling with an anxiety disorder. As a teenager with mental illness, Will faces immense challenges. Challenges that are reflective of many teenagers today.

The demands of society and those we place on ourselves are growing exponentially. I've been fortunate to have had the opportunity to work in the mental health field. A field that is growing fast to meet the demand for services, but the workers are under paid and the organizations dedicated to serving those who suffer are deeply under funded.

It's the nature of the economic beast. A capitalistic economy rewards output and production. Those who suffer mental illness are often unable to be as productive as others due to their illnesses. Mental illness acts as a barrier to healthy human functioning.

Society is working to bring awareness to this unbalance but there is much work to be done. I encourage everyone to learn more about mental illness and what you can do to help. The National Alliance on Mental Illness is a great place to start.

www.nami.org

I also encourage people to start with a prayer for all those suffering.

Please leave a comment about other ways to help bring support and love to those who are affected by mental illness.

Prayer, What's the Point?

Prayer: Is it real? Does it work? What's the point? These questions are ones that The Resurrectionist brings to light. Often we find ourselves in prayer, maybe not directly to God, but in our hopes, dreams, and wishes.

A goal for the novel was to show the physical actions and mechanisms of prayer. Prayer is powerful for Will. We see how it weakens him when he turns from love. We see how it strengthens him when he seeks to return to love.

Sometimes prayer can feel pointless, especially in times of mundane monotony. This is when we need to challenge ourselves to raise our awareness and tune our souls to the higher vibrations of God's love. Through this love we will be made whole.

Prayer doesn't need to be lengthy and wordy. A simple thought is enough to feel love warm your soul.

Go to Hell

The descriptions of the hell Will Stark finds himself in were inspired by many sources. The goal was to paint a picture of hell that was accurate based on current literature of the spiritual realms.

There exist multiple levels and layers in the spiritual world. A popular belief is that earth is a middle ground with seven dimensions above and seven dimensions below. The dimensions above the earth represent the heavens with the seventh dimension being the Kingdom of God as represented in the Bible. The seven dimensions below represent various levels of hell, each becoming darker as one descends them (think Dante).

Mystics and visionaries throughout history have claimed to have seen or been given insights into these various dimensions.

One of these gifted visionary's was St. Catherine of Genoa. In her writings and teachings, St. Catherine references the "divine fire within" the human soul and witnessing the purification of souls in purgatory.

A central theme in The Resurrectionist is the purification of the soul and the love of God that burns away sin. This powerful message reminds us we're never truly lost and beyond repair.

Purpose of The Resurrectionist

The vision for the novel, The Resurrectionist, was to take spiritual concepts and make them applicable to a young adult/teen audience. My hope for the book is to inspire a spark of spiritually in the reader. In today's world people easily neglect to nurture and grow their spiritual selves, the greatest adventure. Greater than any story is the adventure of making the connection with our higher self.

Growing spiritually is a challenge for anybody in today's fast paced society, especially young people where demanding academic, extra curricular, and social calendars take precedence.

The Resurrectionist follows a teenaged protaganist as he wrestles with an anxiety disorder, low self-esteem, and finding a sense of faith. Filled with plot twists and fast paced adventure, William Stark takes readers to the depths of his despare to learn that love heals and redemption is never far away.

The Resurrectionist

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00M5S9T66/ref=r_soa_w_d

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/460928

William Stark is not the hero type, at least not in his eyes. Awkward and anxious, mental illness and a confused faith keep him from loving the girl of his dreams, and himself. A lack of self-esteem takes him to the depths of hell (literally) to fight an intimate battle between fear and faith. 

Will wants nothing more than to feel normal, but when you're from a town nicknamed, The Devil’s Rendition of Sedona Arizona, it's not meant to be. Famous for attracting fire and brimstone preachers, occult psychics, and the fringes of society, Millersville is hiding a history that’s anything but traditional.

With the guidance of a deeply spiritual school psychologist who may be keeping secrets of his own, Will learns to balance his mental health symptoms and work towards normalcy, which is about to be short lived.

A team of paranormal investigators have their eyes on the reluctant Will and his unique abilities. What isn't clear is their deeper purpose for him. Aided with technology developed by the group, Gateway, a Resurrectionist crosses into a world of lost spirits and guides them to the light. William's calling, his purpose, is laid before him. He must fight to conquer his demons or risk becoming one of them, falling into darkness for all eternity.

Under the Door

"Crap."

"What."

"I forgot to lock up. Would you please do it hon, my back is really hurting."

"We live in the quietest neighborhood in the entire state."

"Oh please hon, I know I'm being paranoid, but you know I won't sleep if the house isn't locked."

"I'm so tired."

"Please, you know I hate feeling something can get me in the middle of the night. It creeps me out."

"Fine. I'll do it."

Paul got out of bed, half-asleep. Going around to each door, the front, side and back, before crawling back to bed.

"Got'em." Paul said.

"You're the best, hon."

"Yeah, I know."

Paul neared sleep, his mind fading in and out of awareness. I never locked the patio door. The thought snapped him awake. Paul turned over to find his wife fast asleep. Screw it. 

Later that Night

Paul woke up and rolled over to give his wife a squeeze, he found a cold pillow. A light flickered in the hallway. He got up to inspect.

"Babe, what are you doing? Paul found his wife sitting at the kitchen table, craddeling a glass of water.

"What's wrong, babe?" Paul asked, putting his hand on her shoulder. Paul's wife stared ahead towards the open screen door leading to the patio. "Oh babe I'm sorry. I must've forgotten the patio. It's ok, I'll get it." Paul slid closed the patio door and turned the lock.

"Come on, babe. Let's go back to bed."

Paul's wife was silent, visibly shaken. Ever since she was a young girl she'd been haunted by fears of intruders in her home.

"I don't feel well." She said. "I need the bathroom."

Paul helped his wife to the bathroom. She was two months pregnant and experiencing frequent nausea.

"What was that?" Paul's wife said. "Did you hear that? Oh God, someone's in the house, Paul."

"I hear it scratching at the door." Paul said.

The scratching continued, growing louder into soft knocking. Paul grabbed his wife, holding her tight. 

"It's ok. It's ok. It's going to be ok." Paul lied.

"Oh God." Paul's wife gasped.

A finger slid under the bathroom door, then another and another. Silent tears streamed down Sarah's face. Paul's body trembled as he held her close.

"What is it? Sarah slowed her breathing enough to talk.

Twenty fingers ran under the door, reaching for the couple, waiting to devour and consume.

" Oh God!" Paul cried. "We're having twins."

The Other Side

"I hope you're not hungry and if you are don't expect much. I haven't been to the grocery store in a week and a half."

"Just water, please. In a glass."

"That's it? You really should try and eat something."

"I can't. Water, please."

Mary met Phil an hour earlier even though they had lived on the same floor for the past three years.

"What happened," Mary asked.

"I'm not really sure what I saw. It wasn't anything I'd ever seen before." Phil said, his hand shaking coffee over the edge of the cup.

"Can you describe it?"

"It was like a mist or a vapor. I think I could see through to the other side."

"So you saw the other side of your apartment."

"No, the other side of death."

Phil's entire body shook when Mary reached out and touched his hand.

"You're safe now." She smiled.

"No, you don't understand. They said they were coming for me. They said they're coming tonight!"

"Then you're staying here, with me." Mary regretted those words as soon as they came out. Phil was a stranger and not stable.

"Thank you, that's kind." Phil's hand stopped shaking.

"It's getting late. Do you want to try and get some rest?" Mary asked. Phil only nodded.

Phil layed on the couch, eyes wide open. Mary layed in her bed, eyes wide open. She slid her night stand behind her bedroom door so that it couldn't be opened from the outside.

Mary awoke the next morning, shocked she'd slept at all. She went to check on Phil but he was gone. She opened the front door of her apartment and looked down the hall. Her landlord was talking to a police officer outside Phil's apartment. After the officer left, Mary approached the landlord.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"The police were called late last night. Phil was pacing the hallway talking about how a woman had been holding him against his will and that he tried to kill her in her sleep but couldn't get her bedroom door opened. He took off before the police got here. I hope they catch him, always thought he was a little off.

Mary walked back to her apartment, shaken by her landlord's words and how close she came to death.

"Mary! Thank God, I've been looking for you. I went to your bedroom but couldn't get the door open."

Mary's legs and hands trembled. Phil was standing in her living room.

"Phil, um, I thought the police came, um you know."

"Police. What police? Where." Phil scanned the apartment and ran to look out the window to the street below.

While Phil's back was turned, Mary reached into a kitchen drawer where she kept a small handgun.

"Are you sure Mary? I don't see any police." Phil said, turning away from the window and finding a gun pointed at his chest.

"My God Mary, What are you doing, don't!" Phil walked towards her as the gun went off.

Mary heard police sirens in the distance growing louder each second. She went to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She grabbed a towel and looked in the mirror. She saw right through herself, a mist, right to the other side.

Breakfast in the Garden

"A fine day is it not brother."

"A fine day indeed."

"Can you pass the Cap'n Crunch?"

"For you brother, I'd give you the world."

"Do we have to have this conversation now? I'd just want to eat my Crunch Berries in peace."

"So, you think you can save the world."

"I guess we're having the conversation."

"Why save the world when you can rule it!"

"I can do nothing without the power dad gives me."

"You're a king."

"I'm a servant."

"What glory lies in servitude?"

"The kingdom is built on servitude, the glory lies within."

"They are beneath us brother. Can't you see. We shouldn't waste one breathe on them. They should serve us. The week should serve the powerful."

"Dad loves all his creatures regardless of strength and status."

"What about free will brother. The great gift. Surely we are meant to let it shine. Surely the power dad gave us should not be kept hidden like some wretched deformity."

"Power should be used in times of necessity, from a point of service, not from a point of rule."

"Very well Michael. I see you'll shall not come to view things my way on this fine day, but I shall continue to show you the light."

"Someday Lucifer, I fear your mind will become twisted with self-righteousness, the light dad gave you will have all but gone out."

Tragedy

"Babe, Can you check who's at the door? I'm in the middle of a project for work that's due tomorrow." Kevin didn't take his eyes off his computer screen.

"I didn't hear anything." Sarah said.

"Really, there was a definite knock."

Kevin walked to the door, annoyed his girlfriend didn't get up to answer it, assuming she was too absorbed painting her toenails to even bother. Kevin pulled the curtains back with his hand and peeked out window. The potted plants were leaking water at the base. Oddly, it hadn't rained in a week. Kevin slipped on his shoes and turned the knob. The night air was cold, colder than it should be in early August.

"Babe, I don't see anyone, maybe you're right. I'm gonna check on things since I've got my shoes on." Kevin yelled to an unresponsive Sarah.

"She's always got those stupid earbuds in. It's a miracle she has any sense of hearing left." Kevin said to himself as he glanced around the porch. The wind chime hadn't moved. The welcome mat was in place. All seemed normal and as it should be, but the smell. A strong foul odor lingered.

"What's that smell? Some damn raccoon probably crawled under the step to die, I better get a flashlight."

Kevin walked back in the house, looking down to remove his shoes, before looking up.

"Babe, were's the flash-" Kevin's heart clenched inside his chest.

"Let her go!" Kevin yelled, Sarah's head was bent in an awkward position rendering her unable to speak. Kevin grabbed for the broom standing next to the door.

"Let her go!" He screamed, swinging the broom handle towards her. The handle became white hot sending searing pain to Kevin's hands.

"What do you want?" Kevin asked, falling to his knee with teeth grinding pain.

"Sarah, please baby, can you hear me? Can you move? Fight baby, fight, it's our only chance."

The smell in the living room made Kevin gag with each hurried inhale. He could see the desperation in his girlfriend's eyes. She fought hard but was powerless, unable to move a catatonic muscle.

Kevin choked harder, the smell permeating his nostrils, becoming thick and heavy. He reached into his pocket fumbling to free his phone. His hands trembled, taking four times to dial 911.

Kevin dropped to the floor, one hand clenching his face, the other his stomach. His mind faded in-and-out of consciousness, the last words he heard ... "911, tell me the nature of you emergency. Hello, 911 emergency."

Kevin opened his eyes and stared into a bright light. "Am I dead? Is this heaven?" Two dark eyes soon penetrated Kevin's vision. "No, not you."

"Mr. Howell," a voice said.

"Am I dead?"

"You're at Vernon Medical Center, there's been a tragedy."

"Oh God no, Sarah, is she ok?" Kevin asked.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Howell."

"What was it?" Kevin asked. "The smell, it was vile, putrid. Oh God! I couldn't breathe ... Oh God, Sarah!"

The dark eyed figure stood over Kevin. "She forgot to tie the bottom end of the diaper genie bag."

Nice Guys finish Last

Nice Guys Finish Last

"We don't get many of your kind around here."

"No, I suppose not."

"Name's Bill, mind if I take a seat?"

"Please, sit."

"Hope I wasn't interrupting, you know,your prayer."

"No."

"If you don't mind, can I asks what you was praying for? I, I've never done that before. I hope it wasn't just to have better grub." Bill laughed.

"That would actually be a worthwhile prayer Bill, but no, I was thanking God for the food I'd received. My name's Jordan."

"Hard to be thankful for this stuff." Bill said.

"That's where prayer comes in handy." Jordan smiled.

Jordan knew that Bill lacked the intelligence of average men, even men in prison. After the evening meal the inmates were allowed one hour of socialization. Most nights, Jordan preferred to stay in his cell and read.  This night he ventured out. Something, maybe loneliness, compelled him.

"Jordan, hey, want to play cards? Me and some guys are getting a game together."  Bill said.

Jordan's father had taught him to play when he was a boy. Jordan and Bill sat with two other inmates and began a game of Bridge. The hour went fast. It was the first time in six months Jordan enjoyed the company of other human beings.  

"Hi Jordan," Bill said, pulling a chair the next day at breakfast. Jordan was sitting in his usual spot in the cafeteria, away from the gangs.

"Hello Bill. It's good to see you. Thanks for inviting me to the card game last night. I enjoyed it."

"I've always loved card games." Bill said.

"I figured you did." Jordan pointed to the Ace of Hearts tattooed on Bill's arm.

"Hey Jordan," Bill said. "How'd you get that scar on your forehead?"

"My father." Jordan paused at length.  "He was beating up on my mother you know, I walked in, well, let's just say that I walked into the butt of his rifle."

"That's rough man. My dad was a prick but he never beat us. He was just so damn drunk all of the time that he didn't care what we did. I don't think he even knew we were there half the time." Bill raised his milk carton. "Here's to deadbeat dads, to hell with them."

Jordan didn't raise his milk. He stood up from the table and walked away.

"Hey man, sorry if I did something. I didn't mean anything by it. We cool?" Bill called out. Jordan kept walking.  

New inmate intake interview

"What's your age?"

"I don't know."

"Really, you're going to make this difficult huh? Moving on then.  Employment history. Where did you last work?"

"I've never worked."

"How did you eat, buy things?"

"I don't eat."

"You don't eat, ok then. Where did you live, sleep?"

"I don't sleep."

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere on this earth."

Breakfast

"Bill, hey, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for walking away like that. It's just, my father, you know."

"No hard feelings Jordan. I shouldn't have even asked. Forget it. Hey, we's playing again tonight. You want in?"

"Yeah sure. Count me in." Jordan said.  Bill nodded and left. Jordan walked away, feeling better about patching things up with Bill.  

"Jordan," called the prison guard.  "Warden asked me to pass this along to you. It's nothing about punishment, your behavior has been upstanding, it's just overcrowding, prison politics. You're getting a cell mate."

"What? No, I earned that cell, my good behavior."

"I know you did Jordan. I'm sorry, it's just that we got a new inmate in. Warden didn't want to place him with the gangs, said it might be volatile. They base these things on a stupid intake interview score. Don't mean nothing. Anyway, I'm sorry."

The next day

After prayer group, Jordan returned to his cell.

"You must be the new guy. My name's Jordan."

There was no response.

"You got a name?"

There was no response.

"Where you from?"

There was no response.

"Well, going to turn in for the night."  

Jordan didn't sleep that night, neither did his cell mate. The next day after breakfast Jordan returned to his cell.

"Oh, thank God. You really had me worried there partner. I didn't mean anything by the questions, just trying to break the ice. I know what it's like coming to this place. It's not easy, believe me, I know. I see your a man of God. I pray too. A lot."

Jordan gestured at his cellmate's folded hands and bowed head. The cell mate lifted his eyes slowly and looked at Jordan.

"Who said I was praying to God?"

Jordan's spine stiffened. "Guards! Guards! Help!"

"Step back from the door! Do it! Now!"  Three prison guards came running into the cell and tackled both inmates. The melee subsided. "What's going on here?"

"This man, he's evil, possessed!" Jordan cried.  

"What'd he do?"

"He ... He ... "

"It looks to me that he was just sitting there. Jordan, I know you're upset about getting a cellmate but you're just going to have to get used to it. You know the penalty for crying wolf around here. I don't want to hear anything more out of either of you."

The guards walked away. Jordan's cellmate returned to his bed, folded his hands and bowed his head.

Breakfast

"How's it going, you know, with the roomy?" Bill asked Jordan at breakfast the following day. "By the looks of you I'd say, not well. I guess sometimes nice guys really do finish last?"

"I haven't slept in almost 3 days Bill. I don't know what to do. My stomach hurts just being around him." The look on Jordan's face was cause for concern.  Bill searched his mind for a way out, a way to help his friend.

"Hang in there buddy. I think I can help.  I know you try to stay out of things, you know, inmate politics."

"I don't know Bill, that might be a bad idea. I don't want to owe them anything, or get on the bad side of one of those gang leaders. I don't know if their protection is worth that much."

"Just think about it Jordan."

Jordan returned to his cell after breakfast. His cellmate was on his bed, praying. Jordan sat on his bed. His cellmate stood up, stepped toward Jordan, and raised his hand.

"No! Guards! Help!"

The guards came running to Jordan's cell.

"What is it?"

"He, he came at me!" Cried Jordan, pointing to his cellmate who was sitting on the edge of his bed, praying.

"Damnit! Jordan! He's just sitting there.  There's not a scratch on you. How could he have possibly attacked you?"

"He ... but ... he-"

"Enough Jordan! You had your warning.  You know the rules, a week."

Jordan went without a fight. He was relieved. He could finally sleep. The door to his new cell closed, a wave of relief long over due.

Solitary

Jordan kneeled in the corner of his cell as it was common for him to meditate in this position. I can breath again. I'm thankful for this relief, even if it is only temporary. Jordan stood up, stretched his back, took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"No! God no! Impossible! You can't be here!"

Jordan's cellmate was sitting on the only bed in the cell, praying.

"Who are you? You aren't human."

"I never said I was." The cellmate looked up at Jordan.

"What do you want?  Are you going to kill me?"

"I want to make a deal."

"A deal?"

"I've lived in this prison for a very long time, long before your time, it's my home.  I'm quite fond of her. It used to be so peaceful, until you came along."

"I don't understand. I'm the best inmate here. The warden even gave me my own cell, for good behavior."

"I don't give a damn about your good behavior! It's the damn prayin'. It's driving me nuts! It's burning my ears out!"

"I don't understand. I pray silently."

"There is no silent prayer! It rings out loudly! The deal is, you stop, I'll stop."

"You want me to stop praying?"

"You're ruining my home! My life! This place used to be so dark, so negative, I used to breath in the madness, now I choke, like breathing acid."

"Are, are you dead? A ghost?"

"Does it look like I'm dead? I'm standing right here!"

Jordan paused, shuffling his feet toward the cell door, his fear running wild.

"Listen, I don't know if I can stop." Jordan looked up from his feet. The cellmate was gone.  

Freedom

Jordan prayed harder than he ever had before. He was a man of conviction. He wasn't about to be pushed around. His resolve was strong, his will untouchable.

Jordan was released from solitary and sat in his usual spot at breakfast. Bill never showed.

"Hey, where's Bill Ferth?" Jordan asked the cafeteria guard as he placed his tray on the return counter. "Bill was murdered.  The gangs got to him. I know you two were close. I'm sorry Jordan. It was odd, the gang member who killed Bill seemed to have superhuman strength. It took 12 guards to finally subdued him. When they got him down he kept mumbled that his ears hurt and were being burned from the inside."

Jordan fell to his knees, his stomach clenched in agony.  

"Take your time Jordan." The guard placed his hand on Jordan's shoulder. "I know it's no consolation, but your cellmate was transferred out. At least you can have some peace."

Agony

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have meddled in things I can't understand. Bill's death is on my hands. I should have left it alone.  I got greedy. I wanted to fight back. I craved revenge. I can't stay here, not anymore, not with this guilt. God have mercy on my soul. This is my final prayer."

Jordan stood up and placed his journal under his pillow. The Ace of Hearts fell out to the floor. A cold chill ran down his spine. He wasn't alone.

"Jordan ... no! Don't do it. It's not your fault. You freed me. You were picked, chosen to bring light into the darkness.  You succeeded, your prayers, my death, you freed me! You're prayers are even bringing light to other inmates. You have to hang on!" It was no use, Bill could scream all he wanted, but Jordan couldn't hear Bill's spirit as he tied the bed sheet around his neck.

"It's like you said, Bill. Sometimes nice guys really do finish last."