Tulpa

Tulpa

By

R.J. Maxwell

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

R.J. Maxwell on Smashwords

Tulpa

Copyright © 2012 by R.J. Maxwell

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.

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Books written by R.J. Maxwell can be obtained either through the author’s official Facebook website:http://www.facebook.com/rj.maxwell.10

www.smashwords.com, or through select, online book retailers.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons,

living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Young Adult to Adult Reading Material

Contains explicit language

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PREFACE

Paranormal research has unearthed many creatures that perplex the best of us. But I have found one that is really worth talking about, the Tulpa. It has been described as a thought form and being that thoughts are energy and energy can take on a physical form, it stands to reason that thoughts can be considered physical energy as well.

Most people have let their thoughts run wild. Have you ever imagined that you’ve heard a sound, saw a shadow? Have you ever awaken from a bad dream and felt you’ve actually encountered the being that was chasing you, or trying to kill you? Have you ever felt like that faceless creature in your dream really touched you? Or what’s worst, you had a dream about a killer with a knife and woke up with a scratch on your leg? That’s the Tulpa.

You’re sitting alone in your living room, tying to watch something funny because everyone else has gone out and left you alone. Your doors and windows are locked, you know because you double checked them yourself. The minimal of lights are on because you’re not crazy, you still have a light bill to pay.

But just when you least expect it, and you’re really not sure at first, you see a shadow pass by your window, or worse yet, inside your house, maybe your living room, or the hallway outside your bedroom, or that closet creature no one has actually been able to scare away yet. Or the one under your bed? That’s the Tulpa.

I wrestled with the thought of writing about this about the Tulpa. I rationalized that if thoughts can become a physical reality and writer's thoughts are very powerful in this way. Authors turn thoughts into words, those words get read by thousands, those thousands have their own thoughts, which become…, reality?

In history Thomas Troward, who was a strong influence in the New Thought Movement, claimed that thought precedes physical form and that "the action of Mind plants that nucleus which, if allowed to grow undisturbed, will eventually attract to itself all the conditions necessary for its manifestation in outward visible form.

In mysticism, a Tulpa is the concept of a being or object which can be created through sheer discipline alone. It is a materialized thought that has taken on a physical form and is usually regarded synonymous with a thought form. It seems not to matter which end you look at his from, a Tulpa is a thought that has taken on a physical presence, whether we like it……..or not.

So put your thoughts and feelings on a shelf as you read this story. This book is fiction only because I have changed the names and places, the rest of the story, is quite true. Maybe I should have listed it as Partially fiction.

As you read this book though, don’t turn down the lights, or read by candlelight, and please whatever you do, don’t think about that being taking form off in the shadows, peering around the door frame, slipping by your bedroom window, it’s just your own wild thoughts and imagination.

Oh right, we’ve already been over that.

+++Read at your own risk+++

Chapter 1

Walking through a cornfield with ten pound black crows that stand two feet high, planted on the shoulders of scarecrows makes me a bit uncomfortable as it is, dusk brings out the shadows that weren’t there just an hour ago, and that just adds fuel to the fire. The dark demons caws almost seem as if they’re speaking to me, like I’m invading their space.

It’s the night before Halloween, and I’m out longer than I‘d like to be. I hate walking in the dark after the sun’s gone down, it gets under my skin in a way that nothing else can. The tall corn stalks and broken bales of hay weren’t helping either. My feet keep snagging on weeds and I’m tripping over mounds of black muck dirt. Just as I’d got to the top of the hill and could see my house. Something shot by me with an ungodly noise and convinced me I’d had it. A black cat, of course, this is turning into Fright Night!

I stopped a second to catch my breath, this damn night blindness made me constantly stop to re-adjust my eyes to see when my path was clear of obstacles. I can hear coyotes close by, yelping at the full moon, and the more I think about it, the more I realized what I had to do ……. RUN!

Straight for the house, over the old ruts in the ground from a decade ago when they actually planted corn, through fallen stalks and a chorus of crows. I just pissed them off so they retaliated by flying like wild banshee’s over my head cawing and screeching like a scene out of the movie The Birds. Alfred Hitchcock really knew how to take perfectly innocent wildlife and make it your worst fear.

Two reflective eyes met me as I rounded the back corner of the house, nearly giving me my first heart attack. Being that I’m only in my early thirties I didn’t think that was possible but my heart was telling me something different. Damn owl, it flew to as if I’m infected with some God awful bird disease. All birds are horrible dirt creatures.

I fumbled with my keys and finally made it to the back door. Shit I never leave a light on? This isn’t the first horror run I’ve made through the old corn fields on the outskirts of my property. Western New York is full of farms, fruit trees, corn fields, cabbage patches, soy beans, and onions. Spring to late fall there are fresh fruit and vegetable stands everywhere. Why I get stuck with an abandoned corn field I’ll never know. Why couldn’t it be something useful, like apple trees?

The debilitated old house that sits on the land south of mine is called the property by locals, it’s said to be possessed by residents that lived there in the early nineteen hundreds and died in a devastating house and barn fire. Everyone that rents the place ends up with something wrong with them or with their life.

It’s haunted by some old Indian medicine man that's put a curse on the land because of the white men that brought sickness to his people, the tribe used to live there in the late 19th century. The newspaper reported that they found old mossy gravestones half sunk into the dirt back in the wooded area of the property, also human bones and a skull up near the house itself.

Either way, I steer clear of the property, it’s beyond run down and eerie to look at. From dusk on you can see orbs of white and amber lights shooting around the grounds. You can stand there and watch, but if you wait too long the orbs seem to notice you and start off slowly in your direction. It’s almost as if they aren’t sure what or who you are and begin to stalk you. So people have learned to stay off the property. It’s best talked about around a campfire, when there’s distance between you and the entities. People around here take that shit pretty serious.

I’ve always been able to drink coffee any time of night and still fall asleep like a drunk after a binge. I stirred creamer around the black gold slowly, and set the spoon on the countertop like anyone with OCD would, on a perfectly folded napkin. Approaching my chair was like coming upon an oasis, I grabbed the remote, a pillow to slip under my