Dark Government
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About this ebook
The planet is covertly invaded by several species of beings, recouping the seeds of its life planted here hundreds of thousands of years ago, deep within the split brain (two hemispheres) people.
Covertly they move into the secretive side of the government, no one on the outside ever sees them or knows much about them. Their power comes from nurturing the singl brain attribute, found to be a defect, but in fact is one of their qualities and requirements for development.
Peace among these invaders is questioned, as each tries to use its power to take over the planet, with the help of the Dark Government.
William J. Ryan
I am William J. Ryan. I am in my 60’s and I am an autodidact (self-directed learner) and I am dyslexic. I not only suffer from trouble with letters, numbers and spelling of words changing on me, but structuring of sentences will sometimes be backwards. (Don’t worry; I hire someone to edit these stories before I send them!) I write for the joy of writing, of getting an idea out there. I write in many different genres, children’s stories, historical fiction, fiction, science fiction, crime, and adventure, all the way to anti-religion. I do research on everything that I write about in order to try to be as factual as I can be. I have self – published 35 books and 22 screenplays! Self - publishing is a great way to start, but it is hard to get the audience’s attention. I am also the illustrator of all the artwork within each of my books and most of the cover art. You won’t find many authors out there that include artwork in their stories. More About Me Born in poverty, by white trash sperm and egg donors, my childhood was one horrific nightmare after another, that I would spend the rest of my life overcoming. Freeing myself from this extremely dysfunctional cluster of lost self in diligent beings, by cutting off all contact with them all, was the best thing I ever did. At an early age I chose not to have children for I was not given the skill to raise them and chose not to pass on the gruesome genic dysfunctions I inherited. Writing personal painful events in one of my fictional characters is second nature and comes far far far too easy. In my early 20s, I discovered my reading and learning disability had a name, Dyslexia and I worked as an adult to overcome letters and numbers changing before my eyes. Later in life, as an older adult, I learn the power of reading and writing and became an Autodidact. This affliction never leaves one and I am glad to trade the curse of Dyslexia for the skills to invent and create people places and events that I see so clearly in my mind’s eye. Every story, every town, every person is 100% real to me and I see every picture on the wall, the view out the window, the streets and homes of the neighbor hoods, making them all so real to me and I hope the reader. Artfully crafted acquired skills, from a child hood trying to escape the insanity surrounding this small boy and his young developing mind, where he found himself. i.e. A clear example of a Dyslexic sentence. A short stent (seven years), in the criminal banking industry; where I saw V.P.’s change mortgage interest rates higher on loans, to increase the profits for the bank, cheating the customers. When I refused to participate, I was told, “I needed to think of the Bank First”. My response was “I will never do this.” I also witnessed V.P.’s instruct managers to create duplicate faults files (and they did) concealing the crimes of the bank during a government audit, so they would pass. When I could find the courage to walk out, (without notice for they did not earn it) I did and changed my life’s course path for the better, still looking for that place in my child’s mind where people were honest and decent and truthful. All of my life up to this point I could not face my tormentors, (beaten down so badly as a child) the bullies in my life and at this time I found my voice and the inter straight to take them all on,,, one at a time. With each confrontation, with each face to face battle, I have grown stronger and developed the skills to beat back the bullies of the world exposing them for what they truly are. There is no one I will not attack back fending off their aggression, their bullying of the weakest among us all,,, children,,, has become my single life focal point. At this intolerant unforgiving stage in my life, my understanding of man’s history, is continually being rewritten and removing the light of truth, I pull further away from people. The worst being the so called God Fearing People, that believe they can do anything to anyone and God will forgive their sins so they can do it again. Every one of them has shown me the black oozy bag that is their sole and there is no helping them, so I stopped trying and recoil from the religious. The evil that all religious people do every day, in their God’s name, (genocide, rape of a child, land grab, slavery) show us all that their god must have horns and a pointy tale. This clear understanding of people and the evil that exist just under the skin, emerges in all my stories. A good writer should not create without understanding, but write what they know. I know this evil all too well and I can write and attest to its fullest!!! Favorite Quotes (some) “Just because you are born in shit, does not mean you must stay there”. The quote is from a female polite from WWII, instrumental in the development of the WASP, name unknown. “A man’s strength is measured by the strength of his enemies” Sioux My list is very long and grows with every day and they are indeed very powerful. Each day I wait for them to come and kill me,,, the Deceivers I expose. “Hell is other people” From the book NO EXIT by Jean-Paul Sartre 1944. The things he must have witnessed,,, as the Good German Christion’s gathered up the Jews (the god killers, Jewish Deicide) for the slaughter. Oops did I let that slip? Yes the Nazis were unapologetically Christian,,, Gott Mit Uns (God with us) was worn upon every German Christians soldiers belt as they justified their actions with words of Scrupulosity and its madness. Example; “Our movement is Christianity” Adolf Hitler. These Christians are not good people and for me this quote helps prove it. “The waste,,, the waste,,, the waste.” These were last words of the abdicated King Edward VIII of England. Somehow it seems to sum up the best efforts of man on Earth. “I am ashamed to say I am a member of the human race.” said by Charles Bukowski, august 16th 1920 to March 9th 1994. Words I hear in my mind every day as I see more atrocities of man and his foot print upon this small planet. I carry all of these words with me every day and use them to steer me from the rocky shores of others as I set a heading for my ship away,,, off into the setting sun,,, as I was born,,, alone. Personal Hero’s Ferdinand Waldo Demara Jr.; his skills of camouflages and moving from one life to another, immeasurably helped to guide me and reinvent myself for the better. It is with envy I look to him and his life, for he truly is,,, The Great Impostor. This is but a small window into my sole and reveals but a small part of what has made this man what he is,,, good or bad.
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Dark Government - William J. Ryan
Dark Government
Written and Illustrated by William J. Ryan
Copyright 2018 William J. Ryan
Published by William J. Ryan at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This book may not be reproduced in part or in whole without the written permission of the author. You may write to William J. Ryan at Post Office Box 666, Dade City, Florida 33526
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All information, theories and any philosophies or hypotheses should be verified by the reader from outside sources before one takes action to protect oneself from any of the impending dooms that are predicted to come within this book.
All theories and characters in this book (if any) are fictitious and any resemblance to others or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental unless a true name is used and true quotes are used.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Epilogue
About William J. Ryan
Other books by William J. Ryan
Connect with William J. Ryan
Chapter One
First Born
The rain seemed as though it was not going let up as Oliver looked out the window into the unrelenting darkness. With growing concern in his eyes he turned to his wife Lily and said, There is no one coming that I can see,,, where can she be?
Lily’s screams filled their stone one room family home, built over 800 years ago and passed down to Oliver. For centuries their descendants scraped out a living on the land, and it has been good to them.
Now the first of the next generation was coming and Oliver was beside himself, because he could not help with the birthing. It was Lily’s first child and she had been in labor for a very long time.
Oliver ran to the window in the dim candlelight and once more looked out to see that not a soul was on the road, They know you are with child and about to burst, where can that damn woman be?
Another heart wrenching scream rattled the window Oliver is looking through and he turned to his wife, who was covered in sweat and exclaimed, What the hell am I to do?
Finally the time had come and he must help, for Lily was drifting in and out of consciousness as the presence of the new one was imminent.
He coaxed her, Push, Lily, push!
Oliver looked up, only to see that his love had passed out, because the pain was too much to endure. He said to himself, Well then it is up to me,,, Oliver,,, you have to reach up there and help this one along! You have helped with the birthing of animals before,,, this is no different.
Soon a new life was screaming in his arms. There was a lot of blood… so much so that it drained the life from Lily, so she never saw her child.
The next day neighbors came and told Oliver that the creek was flooded and the water was moving too fast for people to cross, so that is why they did not come. Now all they could do is help to bury Lily in the family cemetery next to the house. But Oliver had just lost the love of his life. He could not care for himself, let alone the new child. Lily and Oliver wanted a boy child to help with the farm, but this was a girl child and of little value. What made it worse was that this child was deformed and he wanted nothing to do with it. She was taken in by others and given the name Ava.
Oliver tried to work the farm alone but could not, for he had lost the woman he loved and the will to push forward. They had known each other all their lives and for him, there was no one else.
Winter was hard that year in Zales, and because the farm was too isolated, it was hard to check on Oliver. When a neighbor could finally check on him, there was not a soul of life to be found. The front door was open and undisturbed snow blew in, covering the floor. There was no Oliver to be seen. It was believed that he had abandoned the farm, until the spring when the discovery was made. There lying atop Lily’s grave, was what remained of the body of Oliver; his arm draped over the pile of stones covering her. It was as though he fell asleep embracing her. No one moved him, because they did not want to break the final bonds between them and so, he remained there.
Ava was doing fine in the care of her new family, but she was struggling with words. Able to walk, she would run about jabbering incoherently. Hard as they tried to teach her, she could not make audible sounds.
I
t was thought at first that she was deaf,,, but after testing, it was proven that she could hear. Then it was believed that she was possessed and the preacher was called upon. He could find no evil at first, but then to appease the gods (and his parishioners) conducted a séance and then an exorcism. Within days of the séance, there was still no change in Ava’s behavior, so it was believed that she could be speaking in tongues. The language of the gods and people listened more intently.
Because of her age and complete inability to converse, at the age of three she was to be institutionalized. She was never seen playing with toys or trying to converse with others. Her days were spent primarily looking out a window.
One nurse tried to spend as much time with Ava as she could, because she saw a thinking being within this deformed body. The mother within her was caring and she comforted Ava whenever she could. She would spend hours working with Ava and brought her a book trying to help her learn.
After being in the care of the institution for six months, Ava seemed to tolerate the attempts to teach her language but just could not,,, or would not,,, converse. After many attempts to teach her verbal and written skills, one day Ava picked up a pencil and paper and wrote the following.
T
he doctor who was entrusted with her care could not make any sense of these scribbles, and so she was written off as insane. In spite of her lack of violent behavior, she was medicated.
The governing body, thought her case merited more study, and so an expert linguistic specialist was called in to review the file of Ava. He was surprised to find that she was being medicated and ordered it to stop.
After studying Ava’s note, he was able find a pattern to her attempts to converse, but could not ascertain the meanings of these images. Then he got one,,, and a hand with fingers splayed out was the symbol for,,, me, myself, I. The one image was her written word for herself.
Chapter Two
Across the Globe
A young couple, Jack and Sophie Campbell had been struggling with their child James. For over two years James had shown no emotion and it seemed that he could not grasp verbal communication, and they wanted to know why. Experts had looked at the child and determined he was suffering from a form of severe dyslexia.
James could not or would not verbally communicate or grasp known written words. But he would talk gibberish rarely and could write. In his attempts to write he wrote the words on page 22.
James was diagnosed to be narcissistic and he seemed unwilling to even try to understand cause and effect. His lack of empathy had gotten him classified as a danger to others and treatment of this mental illness was limited at best. It was recommended that he was to be under supervision 24 hours a day.
He was determined by a leading expert in this field to have the worst case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder on record for a young child. The known treatment of this type of personality was through talking and explaining that his actions are not accepted as normal. But because he could not or would not converse, he was given antidepressants to try to help him until a line of communication could be reached.
None of the therapies or treatments seemed to be having any effect on James’s speech and he insisted on repeating the same tone and the same words to his therapists. The general conclusion by this doctor was It is as though he were telling us,,, we should learn his language.
James’