Frames Of Mind Novels & Stories

I was pushed to the parking lot by one of Mr Hyde's men because he had to discuss some things with the doctor. My wandering mind wouldn't let me be as my eyes travel to a black car parked not far from us with a window rolled down. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a hand waving but I looked away and pretended not to see it. Out of sight is out of mind. That jerk! The heavens decided to have mercy on me as Mr Hyde joined us moments later. "Start the car" was all I heard that drove me out of my thoughts. "What are you looking at?" Mr Hyde's hot breath fanned my cheek as he looked outside the window curiously in search of my center of attention.

Noah said in frustration, “That’s not what I meant. I meant…” She interrupted him, “It doesn’t matter. I just want to tell you that our perspectives are different. You don’t know how good he is to me, so you think about things from your perspective and make assumptions about him as a person. Then, you want to impose those thoughts on me. “What you don’t even know is that I’m certain he’s sincere with me because I spent a long time with him and observed him. Moreover, if feelings were so easily influenced by other people’s words, there wouldn’t be so many children disobeying their parents for love in this world.”

Tricia said. "That will never happen unless I loose my mind." Randy said. "Yes, you are right. It will never happen if you still have your old mind. The stupid mindset that make you think that having a working bee would make you a success. A mind that made you think that having an educated person with dignity will make you a billionaire. You won't hire me with your mind because by the end of our meeting, you will loose it. You will loose your mind and I will install another mind which will open your eyes. A mind that will make you understand that having a slut like me would make you a successful man and a Billionaire. And by the end of this presentation, we will be having intense sex. You wi

No more running. "Thank you." Cara said and turned back to herself. Only to realize that she really was standing there all alone. She was literally now talking to herself. She immediately looked back at the message board and to the mirror. There once again was her face reflecting back at her. Smiling at her reflection she turned and walked back down the sidewalk, back the way she had come. Thinking about the conversation she had just had with her own reflection she couldn't help but laugh at herself. The mind is a funny thing after all. As she walked on she couldn't help but glance down at her imaginary right leg. She wondered if this is what it would always be like? Would she always have it

A frame. Find the convening. Build the spear quietly. Harden the net behind it so that, if everything fails, the network survives the people currently running it. Find the remaining names. Move on all nine, or move on none. It is incomplete. Maya needs more names, more locations, and the timing of a meeting she cannot yet see. But it is a frame. And a frame is the first thing she has found that is larger than the dread. “Thank you,” she says when they stand to leave.

That thought sat heavy. Because I didn’t know what it would become when it reached that point. I stepped forward. The path formed. Clean. Aligned. But slower now. More deliberate. As if it was checking itself before completing each connection. “That’s the awareness,” I said quietly. The space pulsed once. “Yes.” I stopped again. Thinking. Because this couldn’t just be reactive guidance. It needed a framework. Something deeper than rules. Something that could hold even when I wasn’t directly involved. “Sixth rule,” I said.

Too many thoughts, too many voices, too many memories that aren't mine, trying to sort themselves into coherent patterns. Faye kneels beside us, her consciousness wrapping around mine with practiced care. "Hope, listen to me. You need to build walls. Compartmentalize. You can integrate them later, but right now you need to protect your core identity." "I know. I'm trying. There's just—" A memory surfaces that isn't mine: the blacksmith shoeing a horse in 1823. Then another: the schoolteacher reading to children by candlelight. Then James hiking through snow, then Ravensbrook consuming his first victim, then—

Jamal frowned slightly “I don’t.” Zara shook her head. “Yeah, same.” “It’s not visual,” I said. “It’s conceptual.” “That helps a lot,” Zara muttered. I ignored that. “Think of it like this,” I continued. “Each branch is a choice.” “The space between them is what keeps them from colliding.” Jamal’s expression shifted slightly. “Separation.” “Yes.” “But not disconnection.” Failsafe pulsed. “Boundary framework forming.” The Entity stepped closer. “Assisting.”

I said, folding my arms tighter across my chest, focus replacing my earlier impatience, and every ounce of my being was attentive. "The mind is powerful. It multiplies whatever it ruminates on. What you have done is give her something to think about, now you need to give her mind the time to multiply it. I bet she is already creating images that did not happen." "You are right." I said nodding, and tapping my chin, giving his words some serious thought. "Of course I am." He started, and I rolled my eyes. Hard. "If you go again now, you will have her guard up, giving her some semblance of reason and consequently, sanity."

He’s six-foot eleven, and somewhere along the way, I’ve closed the distance, but haven’t quite gotten to seven-foot status. My brain, on the other hand. A brutal, unrelenting game of mental chess where no outcome is dismissed—only cataloged. Ranked. Filed. Shelved. Ready. Just like his. For him, it’s simple observation. Files and dockets of data stored and stowed. For me…