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BUILDING BLOCKS

  by

  Kevin Domenic

  *******

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Building Blocks

  Copyright © 2012 by Kevin Domenic

  Cover Art: Crimsanity Creations

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  *******

  BUILDING BLOCKS

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Introduction

  Sunday

  Monday – Day 1

  Tuesday – Day 2

  Wednesday – Day 3

  Thursday – Day 4

  Friday – Day 5

  Monday – Day 6

  Tuesday – Day 7

  Wednesday – Day 8

  Thursday – Day 9

  Friday – Day 10

  Day 11?

  Time Sure Flies...

  Foreword

  Whoever said, "Sticks and stones may break your bones but words can never hurt you," was a liar.

  Taken by themselves, the numerous incidents of my grade school career which shaped me into the person I am today seem a tad trifle. However, when clumped together, they make up the troubled and lonely childhood that would forge much of my current personality. Through the years I've learned to understand and accept the things that happened to me, but I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a bit of residual pain lurking about in the deep recesses of my heart.

  This book is a work of fiction based on events that I've endured during the course of my life. I've shared these stories in hopes that those struggling through hardships of their own might feel uplifted knowing that their pain is not without purpose, their efforts are not in vain, and their voices do not go unheard. God works all things together for His greater purpose, and only when we learn to look past the pain can we hope to see the positive outcome that our struggles yield.

  Many of the events in this book actually happened to me. Many did not. But I know that these things happen to people of all ages every single day. If you are one of those people, I hope this story will help you to understand why God allows bad things to happen in this world. And if you're blessed enough to have never faced such battles, then I hope this book will give you a better understanding of those who have.

  You can't climb a ladder without starting at the bottom. The phrase may be cliché, but it is true. In all aspects of life, one can't grow flowers without first burying seeds in the dirt.

  This book is dedicated to my mother and father, the wonderful parents with whom I was blessed. Thank you for being my parents, for loving and supporting me, and for never giving up your faith in me. I love you.

  And to the Lord Jesus Christ, my eternal pillar of strength, my light in the darkness, who had mercy on my soul when I didn't deserve it, and who refused to give up on me when I gave up on myself: Thank you Lord for giving me the strength, determination, and willpower to carry on fighting for what's right. Thank you for the courage to stand against persecution and tell the world of the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the Hero of Heroes. And thank you for teaching me the valuable lessons that have brought healing to the scars of my past. I pray that You'll help each of us to place Your will before our own every single day so that we might finally learn what real happiness is all about.

  Introduction

  "If this keeps up, I'm going to blow my brains out."

  It wasn't until I actually said those words that I realized I'd hit rock bottom. I didn't just say them. I meant them. My mind was already working out how I would do it. Dad's old handgun was still in my closet. Before he died, there were times that I worried he might come home in a drunken rage and turn the thing on me. It wouldn't have been too out of character for him, but given our history, I can't say I would've blamed him, either.

  Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.

  I don't know how or why you've come across this journal. But if my shrink's predictions are any indication, the tales that follow will probably sound like the rambling delusions of a madman. And maybe that description will be accurate. Maybe not. For now, I can merely speculate.

  Regardless, I'm a bit leery of this new treatment. According to my doctor, scientists have cracked the secrets of time travel. Go ahead and read that again. Yeah, I know. That's what I thought too. It's got to be a scam of some kind, right? I mean, I know technology has progressed a lot over the past fifty years. Glass-screened televisions were replaced by interactive holograms, and ground-based cars finally gave way to the aeromobile. Even the military's standard assortment of assault rifles and body armor have been tossed aside in favor of invisibility cloaks and science-fiction style laser weapons.

  But time travel? Come on, that's got to be a hoax.

  That's what I believed, anyway, until I called my health insurance company. Get this—they agreed to cover the expenses. It's nearly impossible to get any kind of money out of an insurance company. I can't imagine they'd agree to cover a procedure that isn't authentic, tested, and reliable. I wonder how much it would cost me without health insurance. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me angry. But that's another topic for another time.

  Anyway, the first of these time-travel sessions is scheduled for Monday morning. I suppose some people would jump at the chance to go back and relive their childhood experiences. Not me. I'm dreading it. Doc believes that doing this will help me come to terms with the painful memories that have scarred me so deeply as well as give me a better understanding of my role in God's plan.

  God's plan. Yeah. I once believed all that stuff the pastors said on television about how God only wanted the best for His children and that we were not put here to suffer but to prosper. Faith in Jesus Christ was something I'd clung to when I was younger because He was all I had. I used to wake up early on Sunday mornings to listen to Fred Hoskins speak about Jesus, and I'd pray so hard that something would change in Mom and Dad so that they'd one day be completely different people. I wanted them to be normal parents. I wanted them to stop fighting all the time. I wanted my mother to quit drinking. I wanted Dad to stop yelling at us and just love us. And for years, I prayed and prayed for it to happen. Pastor Hoskins used to say that miracles happened every day. So I figured that eventually one would have to happen in my house. One day I would have the family I'd always wanted.

  It never happened, of course. I don't really know why. I probably didn't deserve it for one reason or another. Whatever the case, as I got older, I lost faith in God's protection. It felt like I was holding up a shield that wasn't there. And even though I still believe He exists, I've learned to stop expecting Him to help me when I struggle. I was destined to be on my own, and I've tried to cope with that.

  Then again, I guess the fact that I'm in therapy means I haven't coped as well as I'd hoped. I guess I'll find out Monday.

  Anyway, Doc suggested that I write in this journal after each session to try to sort out my feelings about the things I see and hear. It doesn't matter if they make sense when I write them, he says. In time, he
believes they will. I have doubts about that, of course. I know what happened in my life. I vividly remember the events that left me so jaded and bitter about the world around me and the society that plagues it. Everything from my first fight to Mom's death lurks within my memory and torments me each and every waking hour of the day. If I could've forgotten such images, if there was a way to abandon all memory of the pain, I'd have done it long ago. I don't know what Doc hopes to prove. But I guess there's no harm in finding out.

  After all, Dad's gun will still be there when it's all over.

  My name is Herbert. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Everyone else does.

  Sunday

  Tomorrow's the big day. But I decided that it might be a good idea to write down exactly how I feel about the state of my life as it is today. That way, if this treatment does make some kind of difference, I can look back at this entry and see the changes within myself.

  So