Mind Powers Can't Explain How A Man's Mind Works

I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, but I tried. The harder I concentrated, the more I could feel the connection between our two brains grow. I’ve learned having mind powers comes in handy from time to time.
An image of what was going on inside his mind was beginning to form in mine, and the first thing that i noticed was his brain was like "1 2 3 4 5 6 SQUIRREL!" when it came to certain urges that involved the female persuasion of his species. I was appalled that he thought about this one thing that much, but come to think of it, it didn't surprise me at all. Not one bit. The male brain is definitely wired differently than the female brain is.
Our minds connected more, and it was almost as if i could lose myself within that complex, but simple mind. Things were going off in there like rapid fire, but not a one of them were connected. It was really strange.
He got an urge to itch, and without even thinking about the fact that he was in public, and there were other people around, he scratched his butt. EW! I can’t believe that just happened. Yet, once again, it didn’t surprise me…men…wow.
He was walking around outside, and granted there was no one around, but there was no reason to do what he did, at least find a bathroom first. He just whipped it out, and went.
Men. Complexly simple creatures that us women, even those with super powers, will NEVER understand.

Point of Opposite View

“Where were you last night?” The woman screeched at her dazed and confused boyfriend. “ I waited for three hours, and you never showed up!”
Realizing that there was no way he could pull out of this one, Carl simply stood there, and took his girlfriend’s verbal thrashing. He said not a word, and just let Catelin get it out of her system. He knew a pressure cooker ready to blow when he saw one, and right now, she was mere moments away from doing so.
“Are you listening to me?” Catelin yelled. “You didn’t hear one word I just said did you? You weren’t even paying attention to me. Carl! If we are going to make this work, we have to listen to each other, more specifically, YOU have to listen to ME.”
Carl turned around and rolled his eyes at her. “This is a relationship, Catelin, not a dictatorship. I am not your slave, and you don’t own me. You never will. Did you ever think that I didn’t show up last night cause I didn’t agree to go out? You made those plans by yourself. You said I was coming, but I didn’t agree to that. You just assumed, so I let you. That’s what happens when you try to have a one way conversation. You don’t understand. So you know what now? I am leaving. I’ll be around. But I am done with you telling me what to do. Treat me like a person, or I’ll treat you like a voice on the wind that no one pays attention to. It’s as simple as that.”
He turned around, and left. Leaving Catelin standing there dazed and confused, wondering what the hell just happened.

Portfolio posts

I will slowly be trying to put everything that i have in my portfolio form all my high school years, writing workshops, and college stuff up on here, so i hope you are looking forward to all this deliciousness.

And...So It Begins...

I'm all moved out. Settled into my new room, with a new roommate and actually loving the college life. Its fun. Great new friends, Fun classes, opportunities popping up every chance I get to meet new people. I have already been asked for my phone number 17 different times, and although I decline most, a few lucky guys make the list. I dont have class friday at all, which is great, if i can find something to do. It'll probably end up being homework... or not. I open a book and the first line says "This book attempts to provide a short history of everybody for the last 13,000 years"

All I can think of is " Dear Sweet JEsus, SAVE ME NOW!!!" why would any one write a book like that? Torture? Insanity? I haven't a clue. But its nerve wracking. I've met 4 people from ACADECA here so far at ISU tho, so I have people to relate to.
but STILL! That book is REDONKULOUS!!!

Its all another page in this book we call life.And I am not the one writing it out. We know who really is.
Peace, love and chocolate~
MallieLynn

Famous Amos No More

Its really sad when you lose a pet. A goldfish or a bird, no big deal. But when it is an animal that you love with all your heart and soul, and that animal gets crushed by a drunk high school student on their way back from the beach at 5:00 in the AM, you can't help but be angry, and want to hurt that person the same way they hurt you.

Amos wasn't just a cat. He was a friend. A companion. His fluff was comforting when I couldn't handle it anymore. And now he is gone. He debuted in Curtains, as the lovable Ophelia. That should have been the start, but curtains rise and they fall, and before he could get another gig, catastrophe struck.

There will never be another cat alive that had the temperament that Amos had. It takes patience to sit under a stage in a PetTaxi for an hour and a half without making a sound. And then to be picked up by a total stranger, with a room full of people, and not freak out. I know I would have.

His shedding was a minor negative, but you could not not love that orange fluff ball. It was impossible to ignore that cat walking 5 feet in front of you and plop down, it was like he was saying "Scratch my belly!" You just couldn't say no.

What hurts even more is being gone when it happens. I was at Survivor Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I didn't find out until after I got home. I was already tired, I stunk, was a little irate at the boy who I invited to this camp that barely said 10 words to me the entire weekend. Put the death of my favorite animal on top of that, and I was about ready to explode, A-Bomb style.

Sad stories make me cry. Its another chapter to add to the story that we call life.

Down the Snake

Down the Snake
By Mallory Wheeler

Yellow, blue, and grey commercial rafts line up along the entrance port. Those of us waiting scavenge for flat rocks, hoping to skip one lucky pebble to that far and unknown side.
I am handed a paddle. Once again, I am in the front for a third year. I find the most excitement here. I am first to see the water drop away from around the raft, first to feel the splash of the wave as it breaks around the raft. The lead sets the pace, those in the front control the rhythm of the raft. Teamwork is crucial. Our guide tells us, even if the rapid is huge, and you just want to cling to the person next to you, you must paddle through the entire rapid. It could save your life. Paddling through that churning water acts like a third leg on a tripod, bracing you against the river, and keeping you inside the raft.
We push away from the shore. Anticipation overcomes me. Though this is the fourth year that I have been on this trip, it has never been the same. Last year, it was the highest I have ever seen it. The level of the river affects the ferocity of the rapids. When the water is high, Big Kahuna is a huge rapid, full of dips and holes, and blind corners, sending out a challenge to anyone willing to test their abilities. When it is low, Big Kahuna mellows out a little bit, and Lunch Counter comes to life.
We come to the Dire Straits, a calm shallow part of the river. Our guide tells us not to be misled. While the river is calm here, a monster rages ahead. Still he gives us the ok, and I back flip into the river, my personal flotation device trying to get my right side up before I introduce my head to a rock. I resurface. This is a water baptism, acknowledging to the river gods that I understand that they are in control.
Since I was little, getting wet has been a gift. The hot sun of mid day beating down from above, making me sweat to death; never wanting to go back indoors because of the endless beauty. There was only one solution, and that was water. Swimming, running through the sprinklers, or just taking one five gallon bucket filled to the brim, and throwing it over your head, it took care of the heat, if only for a little while, and if I dried off, it was a simple repeat. As others from both my raft and neighboring rafts jump in, water fights begin. I want to share my love of water with everyone, and seeing as we were already in the river, why not?
I dunk one of my best friends, freshly back from Germany. As she sputters back to the surface, sputtering words foreign to me. I won’t repeat them in English. The water fight continues, and unknowingly, I get further and further ahead of my raft. I don’t realize how far away I have gotten until I hear the call of the river guide’s voice, “you need to get back here. We’re approaching rapids.”
I am ahead of the raft, so I have two choices: let the boat catch up to me, and risk going through the rapids by myself, or swim against the current, and make it back to the safety of that inflated piece of rubber. I chose number two.
I make it back to the raft, and they pull me in about 300 yards before we hit the big one. That is, the Big Kahuna. Certain times of the year, you can actually see people surfing on the Snake River if this rapid is big enough.
We get closer. We decide which song we want to sing as we go over the rapid. We all agree on an old camp fire song, Miss O’Leary.
The harsh cry of “All forward!” rings from the back of the boat, where our guide is steering us toward the underwater waterfall that is the Big Kahuna. I see the water drop out from around the raft. I can’t see anything but white mist and water everywhere. I hear a startled scream, and realize that it escaped from my own lips. Dropping into the deep hole, we start singing.

One dark night
When we were all in bed
Miss O’Leary left
A lantern in the shed.
The cow kicked it over,
Winked her eye and said,
Its gonna be a hot time
In the old town
Tonight.

FIRE FIRE FIRE
WATER WATER WATER!
JUMP LADY JUMP!
EEEOOOOWWW BOOOING!

We yelled WATER WATER WATER at the top of our lungs, but could barely hear each other. A surge blasted up out of the abyss, knocked me backwards, and almost out of the raft. The only thing holding me in, were the people next to me and behind me, holding onto my foot and the back of my life vest. Water, water every where, trying to dump me in the drink.
Talk about perfect

Written at Writers@Harriman

That Jacket

That Jacket
By Mallory Wheeler
I pull my old green jacket out of the closet once again. another year at camp is approaching/ I am overcome by the familiar smell of burning pine. The scent of smoke coming form the campfires of years past liger on this jacket. I hold it close, and take in as much of the scent in one breath as I can.
I hold it away to look at it. When it was new, a dark forest green, and a little big, I was sure I would never wear it. It looked like something straight out of a war movie, with its many pockets.
But I took it to camp that first year when I was eleven, and that ugly army green jacket became my camping teddy bear.
I look closer and see the small hole burnt into the left hand sleeve. Playing with fire. I see the tear down the right side, and remember falling down the logging trail last year, and tearing up my legs. I look at the inside of the jacket, and see how green it is compared to the outside, which has bee unbleached to a dull grey brown from the sun.
I slip it on now, a fairly tight fit compared to how big it used to be. The jacket hugs me, and holds me close. Once again, I am surrounded by that smell of campfire smoke.

Written at Writers@Harriman

Realizations

Im at a point in time. well everyone is. But this point in time is difficult, confusing, and scary. I leave for college in about a week. I don't feel like I'm old enough for college. I still feel like a scared little freshman in high school going through her awkward phase. Well, I guess I will be a freshman, I will be scared, and I might still be going through that awkward phase, but still. Does leaving for college mean that the childhood funtimes are a thing of the past? Don't answer that. I dont want you to answer that. I have to figure that one out on my own. I guess that I'm just afraid of the unkown, which I guess is just human nature. But i WONT run away.If im going to make it thrugh this thing we call life, I have to face forward, with my chin held high. I might be afraid, but I will not show it. Its a good thing I'm fairly decent at hiding the way I feel.

The road goes ever on and on,
Down from the door where it began,
Now far away the road has gone,
And I must follow,
If I can.

Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then, I cannot say.

The Road, Lord of the Rings
Not sure which one.

I gotta just keep going on,
Face the monster,
It'll all be worth it in the end.

At least I hope it will be.

I'm leaving this in God's hands.He'll take me where I need to be.
From now on, I'm just a leaf, floating free.

Home

How To Get Home

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How To Get Home
By Mallory Wheeler

If you come from the east or the west on the interstate,
Take the exit at American Falls.
If you come from Blackfoot, or north, follow the highway,
It will take you right through my hometown.
Those are really the only two ways to
reach my Aberdeen.

There is a crack in the sidewalk by the Mexican restaurant, where
My sister totaled my mother’s car on her way to church one Sunday.
There is an Icee shack in front of the grocery store. Delicious.
If you turn toward the west on main street,
You will see where I went to kindergarten, elementary, middle and high school. All lined up in one row.

If you turn east between that crack in the sidewalk, and Sinclair,
That is the road I have lived on my entire life.
Who would have known that moving only a mile down the road would change a young girl’s life?
There’s my home. The one I grew up in. there is a door on the second story, just suspended on the side of the house. And the memory of the balcony we never started.
More down the road. Out into the country side.

There’s the cemetery.
My grandparents, cousins, and some friends are there.
The canal, where I used to jump in on hot days,
The field right across from my house,
Where summer after my freshman year, two horrific car crashes changed my view on life forever.
One of those crashes involved a classmate. LifeFlight landed in my front yard,
And took him away. I still think that it is a miracle that he survived.

Now the pine trees that guard our house from the wind.
They hide their needles in the grass, and if you don’t have calloused feet, they WILL jump out and bite them
My lawn. There are probably not so wild turkeys eating the bugs.
Don’t worry. Only Turkzilla will chase you.
My driveway. Gravel. I don’t recommend bare feet.
The shed, where we keep the lawn mower, the gas, and other tools.
It used to be the original house. With one big room, and a loft. It is falling apart on the side facing the fields because of the constant irrigation.
The chicken shed.
The evil ones live there.
I was chased by a rooster when I was little, and they seem to think I make a good target.
At least we don’t have geese.

TOmato in a Potato Field...literally

I found out the hard way yesterday that sunscreen works best to prevent a sunburn before you get one. Six hours out in a potato field and I now look like a tomato, or a beet. I'm not sure which is more accurate. if you have seen the pictures, you decide, and let me know...

Journalism write up

Camp Palisades Senior High Camp2009
“3D Life”

By: Mallory Wheeler

This year at Camp Palisades, we followed the last three days of Christ. Director and speaker Eric Jackson planned many activities that took the campers through Jesus’ last three days on Earth. Such activities included a re-creation of the Passover Seder, the washing of the disciples’ feet, and painting cabin doorways red with the “lamb’s” blood.
There was a very good turnout for Senior High Camp this year. For many who attended, this was their first time to camp. They said it was an experience they would never forget. Many said they plan on attending camp again next year.
As well as learning about the last three days of Christ, we participated in Camp Wars. This activity was made up of various challenges during each day at camp. The four self named teams: Team Awesome, Team Kokomo, Team Fiery Pumas, and Team To Be Determined went head to head in challenges that required teamwork and cooperation as a whole. The water balloon launch, Extreme Tug of War, capture the flag, and Soaker Dodge Ball were only a few of the challenges we faced.
The rafting trip this year was quite an experience. We arrived at the rafting site a couple of hours early because of a communication error. Luckily we found ways of entertainment to pass the time. When we finally did get on the rafts, the entire trip was amazing. The river, which usually runs about 50 to 60 cubic feet per second (CFS), was running at around 110 CFS. The entire trip down the river was fast paced and once over, there wasn’t a dry spot on anyone that went on the trip.
We had our plates full up at camp this year, literally. The food up at Palisades is one of a kind. Delicious and never ending. Every camper that appreciates the time and hard work the cooks put in to make sure we were well fed.
Molly Shipley led worship for both camps. At Senior High camp, Shyler Mayerhofer and Henry Funk brought their guitars to camp as well. By the end of camp they were helping with worship.
Saturday evening we made the hike up to the cross. As usual, some of the campers ran up the mountain and were there a lot sooner than others. There was a lot of teamwork on the way up the mountain. Small support groups developed, and campers stuck together, encouraging each other up the mountain. Once everyone was at the top, there was a devotional and some worship. Then everyone headed back down the mountain.
Later that night, after dinner, we watched the Passion of the Christ. After going through the trials and Jesus’ last three days, watching the video meant so much more and was more easily understood because we had been studying the scene.
Sunday we were all up early to pack our things and get ready for the ride back home. After breakfast, there was a Sunday camp service in the lodge, and the cabin leaders shared some advice with us campers.
“Take what you learned up here off the mountain.”
“Share your faith with others,”
“Live for Christ. Live a 3D life.”

Blessing OR Curse How We Became One

I have never had a problem being myself or expressing who I am. When around the right people I can be crazy and out going. But most people think of me as strange. They notice two different personalities and classify me as schizophrenic. What most people fail to understand is I am never alone. I share my mind, and body with another. As strange as this may seem, believe it, because truth is the strangest fiction of all.

When I was small, about 8 or 9, my dad received a job transfer and was moved from his post on the Florida Keys to the cold loneliness that is Alaska. Father and mother were thrilled for a change in scenery. They had been waiting for an opportunity to leave the area.

They welcomed the change, but I was stubborn and refused to abandon all that was familiar and move 3000 miles away to a place I had never been nor ever wanted to go. On top of that, I wasn’t ready for the major climate change. Going from the sub-tropical Florida Keys to the sub-arctic tundra of Alaska turned out to be quite a shock.

Nonetheless, we went anyway. It wasn’t as if I could change what was happening, so I put up with the move and went in silent rebellion.

The stress from the move and the change in climate made me sick and delusional. The intense cold restricted my breathing. It cracked my skin so severely that I couldn’t move without screaming out in agony.

The complete exhaustion from my illness took a negative effect on me. I started to lose my mind. Everything I said was in an incomprehensible language. I would go through bouts of seizures. I would see things that weren’t really there, and I would drop in and out of consciousness for days, sometimes weeks at a time. I would just lie there, as if I weren’t alive. I was physically unaware, but inside, I was fighting a war with my own mind…and you can’t beat an enemy that already knows everything about you.

This struggle with insanity spent all my energy. I was a dead battery. Now weak and vulnerable, physically and mentally, I couldn’t run from what was coming after me.

No one ever told my parents that the land they bought was abandoned for a reason. The realtor failed to mention the Eskimo burial ground previously located where my bedroom is now. It wasn’t ever said that the people buried there were considered mentally unstable and possibly murderous. None of this was ever mentioned, but by this time, I knew exactly what was happening… and why I was acting so strange.

Andremeo was his name. At first I thought of him as a companion due to the fact that he only came around after the sun fell. But for some reason, the more he was around, the weaker I got and the stronger he seemed to become. He eventually got strong enough to appear in daylight, and by then, he was always present, and he wouldn’t leave.

He was a spirit long parted from his physical body. He had been murdered 400 years ago, tortured to death because he wouldn’t abdicate. Yes, Andremeo was royalty. Though before the revolution, he was loved by all and a fair ruler. Then disaster and havoc compromised his sanity. Before he was killed, he murdered thousands of innocent civilians. I know all this, because before he forced his way inside me and seized control of my mind, he showed me parts of his life. They were mostly pleasant, good memories, but there were some very disturbing visions as well.

Something that always stood out vividly in my mind were the ice blue eyes of the massive malamute husky that seemed to always be by Andremeo’s side in the visions. There was something possessive about those eyes. They were always watching, waiting, staring at me. The vivid shade of blue made the animal almost demon like.

I never have understood the significance of that dog or his demon like blue eyes, I’m still not sure I do. I may never understand the importance of that animal. Andremeo withheld that information and I know everything about him. He knows my thoughts, my secret desires. He even controls a part of me. He stole a portion of my willpower when he forced his way into my brain when I was weakest.

You can’t begin to imagine how humiliating, how horrifying it is to not be able to control your own body…your own actions. When Andremeo takes over, he throws me into the back of my mind, puts up a wall, and all I can see are those ice blue eyes staring me down, striking fear so deep inside of me, all I want to do is hide. But how do you hide inside your own mind? I’m still trying to figure that one out. If you have an answer, let me know. Being a prisoner in your own mind is torture of the worst kind. I feel perfectly fine and in control one moment, and the next, something startles Andremeo, wakes him. And he takes over.

Absolutely anything can cause Andremeo to seize control, jealousy, anger, loneliness, or fear. But I’ll take the risk. Just because I might lose control and become someone else at any moment isn’t going to stop me from living my life.

I have learned to cope with living with Andremeo. But believe me, it wasn’t easy. I have always been stubborn, and he didn’t change that.

When I was in 7th grade, my best friend’s parents died in a horrible car crash. She was a total wreck afterwards. No pun intended. My parents took her in as an adopted daughter instead of having the state send her to a foster home. I thought having Becky as a best friend and a sister would make dealing with Andremeo easier; maybe helping her move on with life would preoccupy me and keep Andremeo out of trouble. But he was just as stubborn as I was. And though we shared a physical body, we were as about as different as sunburn and frostbite.

I welcomed Becky as a sister wholeheartedly. We had been best friends since I had moved here, so sisters shouldn’t be that different. We did everything together. And I guess Andremeo got jealous. He hated the fact that Becky was living with us, and did everything he could to tear our friendship apart. Jealousy can make people and spirits for that matter do horrible things.

Becky never knew my secret. I kept it away from her to protect myself from judgment. Too many times had I already been shunned because of my “abnormality”, and I was trying a new tactic of keeping Andremeo a secret. He didn’t appreciate that and released his rage by trying to hurt Becky.

It was about 3 months after Becky had moved in with us. She was finally starting to feel better and we were becoming closer than ever. I would have forgotten all about Andremeo, if it weren’t for the constant pain I had in the back of my mind.

He didn’t like all the time I was spending with Becky. But I was 13 and my best friend had just lost both her parents. I just didn’t feel like dealing with the spirit. I had to take care of my best friend.

I ignored the warnings that Andremeo sent me in dreams, ignored his blunt flash-forwards of horrible things happening to both my best friend and me. But unfortunately ignorance is not exorcism and it just made Andremeo all the more livid.

One night in June, Becky and I were sleeping outside, it was the warmest it had been all summer and we weren’t going to let the opportunity pass by unnoticed. We were up late, telling stories and talking about boys, the things normal 13-year-old girls do. It was about 3 in the morning when we finally fell asleep. Becky was dead to the world, but I was half awake, because Andremeo had a plan to get rid of Becky, and although I was aware of it, there was nothing I could do, because Andremeo had figured out a way to render me completely helpless, trapping me in a cage in the back of my own mind.

I fought to get free, to save my friend, but he still carried out his plan. He knew of a place, in the old part of town, where there was an open pit. It was once an old quarry, and for years, tons of rocks were dug out of the area, making the hole around 200 yards deep. While Becky was asleep, he took her there, and slid her down the steep side of the pit. If you fell down there, there was almost no way to get out.

Satisfied that his plan had worked, he took us back home, and we settled back into the back yard for the rest of the night. I don’t know how he did it, but the next day, I couldn’t tell my parents where Becky was. Andremeo had put some sort of block on that subject. And all I could say was, “I don’t know…I don’t know.”

A full-scale search was started for Becky, but it wasn’t until the 3rd day of search that they found her. She was right where Andremeo had left her, at the bottom of the quarry. She was barely alive. The fall down to the bottom had worn the sleeping bag she was in down to a thin layer of cotton, and the jagged rocks had shredded the backside of her body. She was in horrible condition and when she recovered, she pointed the finger at me.

All she could say was, “I thought you were my friend Alex, and I thought we were sisters. I guess you couldn’t handle competition.”

And though my body had done it, I hadn’t. But she didn’t see it that way, and as soon as she recovered, she left for a foster home, never giving me a chance to apologize for Andremeo's actions, let alone tell her the real truth.

I lost a friend that day because I was too afraid to show her the true me. The part of me that is not so desirable, that part of me is Andremeo. By hiding his presence, he reacted the way most people would when they get jealous, they got rid of what they were competing with for attention. In this case, Andremeo pushed Becky out of my life forever…and I have never seen her since.

There is another episode that stands out vividly in my mind and changed my overall feelings about Andremeo. After he hurt Becky, I hated him. But I learned my lesson.

I was a junior in high school and was having a hard time fitting in…after all…a kid who has to share her mind and body with a possessive Eskimo prince will tend to have problems. Finally I had made a few friends who accepted me for who I was. Spirit possessed and all. One of my new friends was planning a party at her house. I was excited to go and was hoping that I wouldn’t have any episodes with Andremeo.

I got to Leanna’s house around 5:00 that evening. Everything was going great. We ate pizza, played games, swam, and jumped on her trampoline. (Andremeo really enjoyed that.)

After it got dark, I went inside alone to get my jacket. It may have been a warm summer night, but for some reason, it felt to me like the middle of winter. My hands were ice cold, and my body shivered uncontrollably. Suddenly, I see those ice blue eyes, and the animal they belong to, flash out of nowhere. They stare me down. Then disappear. The sudden appearance startled me, but I wasn’t going to let Andremeo ruin tonight.

I went back outside to notice everyone standing around a growing fire. Again, I saw the ice blue eyes. And in addition, felt a shrill biting cold.

“You can’t ruin tonight.” I thought, “I won’t let you.” I sent a silent message to Andremeo to PLEASE behave.

In return, Andremeo sent me a memory from his life many centuries ago…

In this memory, Andremeo was 12 or 13, not yet ruler. He was walking with a friend, a brother, Telloram, and they were on their way back to their village from a hunting trip. They had failed at returning with any meat for the village and the boys weren’t in the best of moods. Suddenly, Andremeo smells smoke on the air. He looks at his friend with a terrified expression, and they start to run.

During the brief summer months, Andremeo’s tribe lived in wooden huts. Each one could house 100 to 150 people. Most of the time, aunts, uncles, cousins, and immediate family would share a hut.

The buildings were often poorly crafted, with little to no ventilation, and only one exit. In the event of an emergency, it took a long time to evacuate the entire structure through the single file door at the end of the building.

As they ran towards their village, Andremeo and Telloram’s worst fear reached further and further into reality. One of the huts had caught fire. But from their vantage point, neither boy could tell which family hut it was. They could only hope it was empty. But, each boy had a gnawing feeling deep in the pit of their stomachs that everyone and everything they held dear was in mortal peril.

Finally close enough; the boys knew the worst was happening. The hut on fire belonged to Andremeo’s family, and as if that wasn’t bad enough news, the source of the fire was near the entryway. There was no way for those trapped inside to escape. He sat and watched, unable to help, as his family and loved ones died in that fire. He only wished the fire hadn’t left him behind.

Andremeo lost everything that day. He had nothing left. Nothing except a throne he didn’t want and an eternal fear of fire and anything remotely warm.

After the fire, and his coronation, Andremeo moved the village to the harsh northern mountains of Alaska, where it was never sunny and almost always wet.

As I finished watching this tragic memory, I felt a tear on my cheek, and I knew it was mine. Not wanting to cause another outbreak, I recognized Andremeo's fear, and stayed away from the fire. For as long as possible, that is.

I didn’t want to sit alone in Leanna’s house, so I sat outside, and tried not to look bored. But eventually, loneliness got the better of me, and pyrophobic spirit or not, I was going to stand by that fire.

I guess Andremeo had fallen asleep, because as I walked…no …was drawn toward the blaze like a magnet, I felt no tug at the back of my brain. No urge to turn the other way, like I had so many times before when he took control. In fact, I got all the way to the fire with out one sound from Andremeo. I found the lack of resistance strange, but I welcomed it. The last thing I wanted was a problem.

I stood by the fire for a good 15 minutes before Andremeo became even remotely aware that we were near the fire. He started to panic, so I took several steps away from the blaze, and he calmed down. Another 20 minutes passed by and the huge fire was starting to finally die down. We both, human and spirit, welcomed that. I was tired and ready to head for home, and Andremeo was relieved for his obvious pyrophobic reasons.

Then Leanna and her father started piling more wood and other flammables into the pile, and suddenly, the bonfire was roaring back to life, hotter and stronger than before. I started to panic. Andremeo was on full alert, and was telling me something was extremely wrong something inside the burning pile was a gas can. Everyone was unaware of it, but it was sizzling, crackling, building pressure. And before anyone could say, “Run”, the pressure released itself, and there was an explosion. Being the closest, the flames blew me over, they licked my skin, and the embers burrowed their way through my flesh.

Andremeo took control. He sprang into action. But instead of running away, he made a positive difference, and helped the others.

I remember hearing him think, “I have already lost everything I loved. That pain is nothing I want to go through again. It’s incomparable to anything she could ever feel. I have made my mistakes. Driven away a close friend hurt Alex over and over again, made her a prisoner in her own mind. It was time I apologized, set things right. At the very least, I can try to save her everything…I won’t let her lose them.”

That was the first time I had ever heard Andremeo say my name. And it gave me hope. Before he had only referred to me as “girl”. That little difference assured me that Andremeo would save us.

He kept his promise and helped us all out of the explosion with minimal injury. The most serious damage was our own, and we had 2nd degree burns all the way down the left side of our body. One thing is for certain: I will never think of Andremeo the same way. Before this accident, he was just a burden, a nuisance, and trouble beyond imagination. It was either his way or no way. Now he is a part of me.

Leanna and the others were never told that it was the “evil spirit” that saved them. They had accepted Andremeo as a dark, strange, unusual and unfamiliar part of me. But I don’t think that they ever liked him. I know they never liked him. After all, when you think about it, and only understand what others have told you, he is a deranged spirit that forced entry to my body when I was 8. He paralyzed my mind and took over my body. He made me fear him with those ice blue eyes that pierced my very being.

But what outsiders fail to realize, and wont ever understand is that Andremeo is just a scared teenager who died a terrible agonizing death at a young age. Taking control seemed to be his way of running away…of protecting our body and me.

And when I think about it, those ice blue eyes weren’t demon like. They were soft and caring. They were hope and trust, a guarantee that everything would turn out ok. The eyes of that malamute were watchful. A faithful dog always watches after his human. Always protects them.

I don’t just “deal” with Andremeo sharing my mind anymore. He is an active part of my life. We work together. We trust each other. He gives me insight from his life to help me make decisions in mine, and I help him overcome his fears. And Andremeo no longer feels the need to take over. He no longer feels jealous.

There have been so many times, already in my life, where others have offered to rid me of this “demon spirit”. (The majority of these offers came to me after he tried to kill Becky.) But every time they have asked I have declined, because what I thought was a curse at the beginning, has really been a blessing. I just had to open my eyes and heart to realize it.