Robert Montesino

Prologue 

The Lost Children of the Heavenly Host 

 The following excerpt is the back story for the inspiration and reason I wrote  “Mind Monsters.” It is the lead story in my short story collection and has been re printed is several publications both on the net and in print. Of all the stories I’ve  written to date it appears so far that I may be remembered as the author who  penned Mind Monsters. This story was inspired by a very real conversation I had  with a man who is very close and dear to my heart. A man with a beautiful mind and  a pure sense of mission, however misunderstood it may be. 

 I threw in a little twist at the end of Mind Monsters, fictionalized the story  line and published it as a horror story. But the premise for the story is grounded in a  very real and sad reality. This piece is dedicated to him and the countless thousands  like him who struggle to find their way back from the monsters in their own minds.  

***** 

He is forty-eight years old and lives in a room in the back of his mother’s  

house. This is more out of choice than necessity, it is quiet there, a sort of peaceful  refuge, a place where he can write, dream and entertain his visions. His wife left  him throwing in the towel after years of futile efforts to reel him and his thoughts  back into what she called, “the real world.”  

She was a good woman who loved him and no one in his family blamed her for  giving up after ten years of trying …not even him. 

He calls them, "The Lost Children of the Heavenly Host" and believes it’s his  mission to minister to them, give them safe haven and the understanding they need 

to guide them back to where God intended them to be. So every evening just before  the sun sets he faithfully goes out to the dock by the lake and with the bible in hand  he looks to the sky and reads to them. Starting with the book of Genesis, he reads  through to Revelations.  

And as the days, weeks and months pass whenever he finishes, he begins again  pointing to the clouds and in a loud voice proclaiming: “I am sent here by the Father  to comfort you and show you the way back to the heavenly mountain, so hear me my  lost children because I will show you the way home again.”  

He often takes his camcorder and records hundreds of pictures of clouds so the  world can see the faces his lost children. But he is only laughed at; by strangers,  friends and even his own family members. The Church prayed for him once that he  might be delivered from such delusions. 

He was finally was thrown out of the Church when he persisted… in what he  believed to be the truth. The police were called and finally a stay away order was  issued. This man has never been violent nor does he pose any harm either to  himself or others. His doctors say he is suffering from schizophrenia.  

“The Beautiful Mind” syndrome, a phrase coined by a recent popular movie and truly  demonstrates the horror of what happens to the human brain when it short circuits...  when the connections between reality and illusion become fused. They want him to  take psychotropic medications but he refuses. What some call a sickness he  considers a gift.  

He has never considered himself to be anyone special. He’s never had fifteen  minutes of fame or basked in the glory of recognized accomplishments by his peers.  And those that know him well consider him hopelessly lost. A man destined to live  out the rest of his life in relative obscurity with little or no chance of recovery.  Unless he wins the lottery or inherits some unexpected fortune, his prospects do not  appear promising.

But he never plays the lottery and isn’t known for rubbing elbows with people of  substance. In fact he makes a point of avoiding contact with anyone who might take  pity on him or his circumstances. In his mind he is already a success with riches  beyond that which anyone could hope for. Why no one else can see it is as much a  mystery to him as he is to them. 

His gift he says holds more promise than anything this world can offer him. And his  dreams are as much a part of his reality as the scorn, ridicule and rejection he  suffers at the hands of those who do not understand.  

He is extremely intelligent, holding three electrical certifications; a self taught  biblical scholar who can quote chapter and verse and cross reference with the best  of them. 

He is also an astute and knowledgeable Astronomer and disciplined observer of the  skies. It’s ironic that his own innate intelligence works against him…he is a man on  a mission and “marches to the tune of a different drummer.” The man is the captain  of his own ship, only he holds the keys of discovery. He alone exercises full  authority of his personal journey…in search of The Lost Children of the Heavenly  Host. 

There's been much speculation on how and when he became afflicted with this  condition. Some think he was born this way, genetically predisposed for a  psychological break, a neurological melt down of the receptors in his brain. Some  suggest it was brought about by numerous electrical shocks they witnessed him  getting while at work; he liked to experiment with re-wiring circuits differently just  to see if it would work. His own family remembers how as a child of five he drank  half a glass of mineral spirits when they were painting the house. 

He was taken to the hospital to have his stomach pump. He told me shortly after  that incident, he could see an angel always standing guard over him wherever he  was. He described him as a centurion, a strong powerful muscular soldier who wore  a metal like hat. He said he was there to protect him. 

 While observing and conversing with this man on many occasions, it  occurred to me in his own way he is searching, reaching out looking toward the  heavens hoping to find himself there among, The Lost Children of the Heavenly 

Host. By saving them perhaps he will find his own redemption and together they will  make their way back home… 

Mind Monsters 

The ceiling fan above his head creaked and wobbled in time with crickets chirping  

outside the window. The walls were plastered with posters of angels and biblical  passages riddled with apocalyptic messages. The house breathed a life of its own as  shadows danced on the walls of his dimly lit room.  

 A peculiar odor emanated from the place, a mixture of mothballs and rotting  flesh. I gagged upon entering and for a brief moment, I felt the suffocating presence  of some unclean thing. I heard leaves rustling outside the window by his bed. A cool  breeze blew in through another open window on the south side of the room. The  fresh air brought some welcomed relief but it would not last long. 

“There are monsters in our midst,” he said.  

My poor friend Billy, how can I make him understand his monsters are all in his  head?  

Billy sat in the middle of the bed scratching his beard looking up at me smiling with  one eye half closed, the other opened wide. Sitting in a Lotus type position he was  in his usual garb, underwear and white socks. Not many things embarrassed Billy  but the poor condition of his feet did. The white socks covered the shame of them  but nothing could hide the pity that was in my heart for him. 

“Bobby I’m telling you they are here and living among us. I can see and hear them. I  have learned not to fear them because they need me.”  

“They need you Billy? I asked sarcastically.  

He responded nonchalantly, “Yes, I teach them things, they are lonely and kind of  stupid so I let them stay with me and watch TV.”

“Are they here now?” I asked. 

“Yes.” He answered. 

“Then why can’t I see them?” 

“Because you don’t have spiritual eyes, they will only show themselves to  those who can sense their presence.”  

“Aren’t monsters supposed to be wicked creatures that come out at night and  scare the hell out of people?”  

Billy explained they were not really monsters but more like spiritual beings who  dwell on the earth walking to and fro looking for property to occupy and pass time.  They came in all sizes and shapes. Some were not ugly at all they looked just like  us. 

I kept trying to reason with him to see if by chance or miracle he would listen to a  voice of reason and logical persuasion. But I was growing weary and it was getting  late a more aggressive approach seemed to be the only way to reach him. 

“Oh come on Billy, what if I was to tell you those things you see are all in your head.  They’re just a product of your diagnosed schizophrenia my friend. You refuse to  take medication because when you do you lose all your auditory and visual  hallucinations. These monsters don’t need you. You need them. Because without  them you would be lonely and your whole life would lose its purpose.” He just laughed saying, “Well I would tell you throughout the course of human  history there have been those who have seen visions and dreams that foretold the  truth. The future of things to come and not yet seen.  

These men were called Prophets of God and answered to a higher calling. They  were chosen not by their own accord but by a power greater than themselves. They  suffered greatly often times labeled crazy, delusional or dangerous. Today they  separate us from society and we are hidden away in institutions. Psychotropic  drugs are forced upon us as a way to silence that which mortal men fear the  most. In ancient times we were imprisoned, stoned or burned to death.”

“So now you’re saying you are a Prophet of God, chosen because you’ve led such an  exemplary life? You and I both know you are a drug addict. Most of your life, since  you were thirteen you have smoked pot, popped pills and injected drugs.” 

“I know some of the things you just said are true. I don’t know why I see visions and  hear things from this other world. But I know there are dimensions running parallel  to our own. Yes, I have been able to sense these beings since I was a child. I did drugs to stop the voices in my head and the visions because they scared me. I  was trying to self medicate to stop them, but it didn’t work. They don’t frighten me  anymore. I know now my mission in this world is to teach them, comfort them and  peacefully co-exist with them. They too are also a part of God’s creation.” 

“Are you actually suggesting that it is we who need to conform to your reality and  not you to ours?’  

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” 

I turned away from him, my heart breaking with frustration and pity for this poor  misguided soul. I took a deep breath as I stood up and wiped the tears from my  eyes. Finally gaining my composure I began to comb my hair and straighten the  knot in my tie using the dusty mirror leaning against the wall.  

I could see Billy sitting in the middle of the bed surrounded by strange  apparitions. Their eyes glowed in the dark.  

He was speaking to them in hushed tones. The dim light coming from his TV set  reflected beings of different sizes and shapes, some grotesque and others more  human like. Startled and frightened I turned around quickly and of course there was  nothing there. I focused hard on Billy determined to get to the truth. He just smiled  at me and said,  

“I told you so.” 

“Those things I saw in the mirror are the creatures you spoke of?” I  asked. 

“Yes, the very ones. They too are my friends. They don’t annoy me  like you always have. I’m getting tired of your jealousy, self  

righteous pity and all your stupid questions. You’re always trying to  torment me with your doubts. I’m going to have to get rid of you.” 

“What are you saying are you threatening me?” I asked. 

“You think you are so smart. You’re even more stupid than the rest  of them, such a pathetic thing too blind to see what is already  happening. I will be glad to be rid of you. I can’t stand all the  pretentious crap you direct toward me. You are the one who needs  to be pitied. You don’t even know what you are.” 

“What are you talking about Billy?” 

“Just look down and believe what I’m telling you.” He said. I looked and could  not see my feet. At first, I thought it was because of the dimly lit room. Billy  just laughed and shook his head from side to side. I slowly reached down  trying to feel my ankles. I could not find them. 

“Billy, what have you done? You can’t leave me like this. Please, I promise never  to doubt you again.” 

I looked down again. The lower half of my body was gone. The world lurched,  sliding into darkness. Billy’s last words tore at my thinning perceptions. 

“Bye Bobby. I don’t think I’m going to miss you.”