Do you believe in this story? Boys from Mars

[nutty07]

Sometimes, some children are born with quite fascinating talents, unusual abilities.

I was told the story of an unusual boy named Boriska from members of an expedition to the anomaly zone located in the north of the Volgograd region, most commonly referred to as “Medvedetskaya gryadaâ€â€¦

"Can you imagine, while everyone was sitting around the campfire at night, some little boy (about 7 years of age) suddenly asked everyone’s attention. Turned out, he wanted to tell them all about life on Mars, about its inhabitants and their flights to earth,†shares one of the witnesses. Silence followed. It was incredible! The little boy with gigantic lively eyes was about to tell a magnificent story about the Martian civilization, about megalithic cities, their spaceships and flights to various planets, about a wonderful country Lemuria, life of which he knew in details since he happened to descend there from Mars, had friends there…

Second of all, we were all amazed by the actual speech of this young boy. It was far from the kind kids his age usually use. His knowledge of specific terminology, details and facts from Mars' and Earth’s past fascinated everyone.

“Why did he start the conversation in the first place,†said my interlocutor. “Perhaps, he was simply touched by the overall atmosphere of our camp with many knowledgeable and open-minded people,†continued he.

“Could he make this all up?â€

“Doubtfulâ€, objected my friendâ€. “To me this looks more like the boy was sharing his personal memories from past births. It is virtually impossible to make up such stories; one really had to know them.â€

Today, after meeting with Boris' parents and getting to know the boy better, I begin to carefully sort out all the information obtained around that campfire. He was born in Volzhskii town in a suburban hospital, even though officially, based on the paperwork, his birthplace is the town of Zhirnovsk of Volgograd region. His birthday is January 11th, 1996. (Perhaps it will be helpful for astrologers).

His parents seem to be wonderful people. Nadezhda, Boriska's mother, is a dermatologist in a public clinic. She graduated from Volgograd medical institute not so long ago in 1991. The boy’s father is a retired officer. Both of them would be happy if someone could shed the light onto the mystery behind their child. In the meantime, they simply observe him and watch him grow.

-After Boriska was born, I noticed he was able to hold his head in 15 days, recalls Nadezhda. His first word “baba†he uttered when he was 4 months old and very soon afterward started talking. At age 7, he constructed his first sentence, “I want a nail.†He said this particular phrase after noticing a nail stuck in the wall. Most notably, his intellectual abilities surpassed his physical ones.

-How did those abilities manifest themselves?

-When Boris was just one year old, I started giving him letters (based on the Nikitin’s system) and guess what, at 1,5 he was able to read large newspaper print. It didn’t take long for him to get acquainted with colors and their shades. He began to paint at 2.

Then, soon after he turned 2, we took him to the children day care center. Teachers were all stunned by his talents and his unusual way of thinking. The boy possesses exceptional memory and an unbelievable ability to grasp new information. However, his parents soon noticed that their child had been acquiring information in his own unique way, from some place else…

-No one has ever taught him that, recalls Nadya. But sometimes, he would sit in a lotus position and start all these talks. He would talk about Mars, about planetary systems, distant civilizations…we couldn’t believe our own ears. How can a kid know all this? Cosmos, never-ending stories of other worlds and the immense skies, are like daily mantras for him since he was 2.

It was then that Boriska told us about his previous life on Mars, about the fact that the planet was in fact inhabited, but as a result of the most powerful and destructive catastrophe had lost its atmosphere and that nowadays all its inhabitants have to live in underground cities. Back then, he used to fly to earth quite often for trade and other research purposes. It seems that Boriska piloted his spaceship himself. This was during the times of the Lemurian civilizations. He had a Lemurian friend who had been killed right before his own eyes…

-A major catastrophe took place on earth. A gigantic continent was consumed by stormy waters. Then suddenly, a massive rock fell on a construction…by friend was there…, tells Boriska. I could not safe him. We are destined to meet some time in this life.

The boy envisions the entire picture of the fall of Lemuria as though it happened yesterday. He grieves the death of his best friend as though it was his fault.

One day, he noticed a book in his mother’s bag entitled “Where do we come from?†by Ernst Muldashev. One should have seen the kind of happiness and fascination this discovery triggered in the little boy. He’s been flipping through pages for hours, looking at sketches of Lemurians, photos of Tibet. He then started talking about high intellect of the Lemurians…

-But Lemuria ceased to exist minimum 800 000 years ago…, I uttered in response to his statements. Lemurians were 9 meters tall! Is that so? How can you remember all this?

-I do remember, replied the boy.

Later, he began recalling another book by Muldashev entitled “In Search of the City of Gods.†The book is mainly devoted to ancient tombs and pyramids. Boriska firmly stated that people will find knowledge under one of the pyramids (not the pyramid of Heops). It hasn’t been discovered yet. “Life will change once the Sphinx will be opened,†said he and added that the great Sphinx has an opening mechanism somewhere behind his ear (but he does not remember where exactly). The boy also talks with great passion and enthusiasm about the Mayan civilization. According to him, we know very little about this great civilization and its people.

Most interestingly, Boriska thinks that nowadays the time has finally come for the “special ones†to be born on earth. Planet’s rebirth is approaching. New knowledge will be in great demand, a different mentality of earthlings.

-How do you know about these gifted kids and why this is happening? Are you aware that they are called “indigo†kids?

-I know that they are being born. However, I haven't met anyone in my town yet. Perhaps may be this one girl named Yulia Petrova. She is the only one who believes me. Others simply laugh at my stories. Something is going to happen on earth; that is why these kids are of importance. They will be able to help people. The Poles will shift. The first major catastrophe with one of the continents will happen in 2009. Next one will take place in 2013; it will be even more devastating.

-Aren't you scared that your life may also going to end as a result of that catastrophe?

-No. I’m not afraid. I have lived through one catastrophe on Mars already. There still live people like us out there. But after the nuclear war, everything has burnt down. Some of those people managed to survive. They built shelters, new weaponry. There was also a shift of continents there, although the continent was not as large. Martians breathe gas. In case they arrived to our planet, they would have been all standing next to pipes and breathing in fumes.

-Do you prefer breathing oxygen?

-Once you are in this body, you have to breathe oxygen. However, Martians dislike this air, earth’s air, because it causes aging. Martians are all relatively young, about 30-35 years old. The amount of such Martian children will increase annually.

-Boris, why do our space stations crash before they reach Mars?

-Mars transmits special signals aimed at destroying them. Those stations contain harmful radiation.

I was amazed by his knowledge of this sort of radiation “Fabosâ€. This is absolutely true. Back in 1988 resident of Volzhsky Yuri Lushnichenko, a man with extrasensory powers attempted to warn Soviet leaders about the inevitable crash of the first Soviet space stations “Fobos 1†and “Fobos-2â€. He also mentioned this sort of an “unfamiliar†and harmful for the planet radiation. Obviously, no one believed him then.

-What do you know about multiple dimensions? Do you know that one must fly not on straight trajectories, but maneuvering through the multi-dimensional space?

Boriska immediately rose to his feet and started to pour all the facts about UFOs. “We took off and landed on Earth almost momentarily!†The boy takes a chalk and begins drawing an oval object on a blackboard. “It consists of six layers,†he says. 25%--outer layer, made of durable metal, 30%--second layer made of something similar to rubber, the third layer comprises 30%--once again metal. The final 4% is composed of a special magnetic layer. “If we are to charge this magnetic layer with energy, those machines will be able to fly anywhere in the Universe.â€

-Does Boriska have a special mission to fulfill? Is he aware of it?- I pose these questions to his parents and the boy himself.

-He says he can guess,- says his mother. He says he knows something about the future of Earth. He says information will play the most significant role in the future…

-Boris, how do you know all this?

-It is inside of me.

[nutty07]

-Boris, tell us why do people get sick?

-Sickness comes from people's inability to live properly and be happy… You must wait for you cosmic half. One should never get involve and mess up other peoples’ destinies. People should not suffer because of their past mistakes, but get in touch with what’s been predestined for them and try to reach those heights and move on to conquer their dreams. (These are the exact words he was using).

You have to be more sympathetic and warmhearted. In case someone strikes you, hug your enemy, apologize yourself and kneel before him. In case someone hates you, love him with all your love and devotion and ask for forgiveness. These are the rules of love and humbleness. Do you know why the Lemurians died? I am also partially at blame. They did not wish to develop spiritually any more. They went astray from the predestined path thus destructing the overall wholeness of the planet. The Magic’s Path leads to dead end. Love is a True Magic!

-How do you know all this???

-I know…Kailis…

-What did you say?

-I said “hello!” This is the language of my planet…

Gennady Belimov “NGN”

Damm!!!! Unbelieveable

[e0d9n0b5]

Damm!!!! Unbelieveable

[evisu 2000]

since my bike is down, i had to take the bus home from work today, listening to music and not paying attention to anything.

as we were stopping at one of the bus stops, a girl in the back started screaming. i looked back and saw her pointing out the window, and i followed her stare. out in an unfenced cul-de-sac were 3 guys. two of them standing, one of them was on the ground bloody. the taller of the two men had a baseball bat and was about ready to smash it into his head again, when they realized a whole busload of people were looking at them. as the bus driver radioed in the 999 call the other man, who hadn't been doing anything, took a pistol out of his pocket and shot the guy in the head. at this point the whole bus was in shock and glued to the morbid scene. the two men got into a car and sped off.

when i came home i was visibly shaken. i told her what i had just seen. then my mom got scared, she said "you're moving with your auntie and uncle in bel-air." i whistled for a cab and when it came near, the license plate said "fresh" and it had dice in the mirror. if anything i could say that this cab was rare but I thought "nah, forget it, yo homes, to bel-air!" i pulled up to the house about seven or eight and I yelled to the cabby, "yo homes, smell ya later!" i looked at my kingdom, i was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of bel-air.

[e0d9n0b5]

Damm!!!! Unbelieveable

[brohymn]

Greg was not having a good day. He'd missed the bus, he'd been totally unable to convince his mother that driving him to school was not an attempt at male dominance, his locker had developed some sort of inexplicable leak from the wall behind it that resulted in his not having any textbooks or assignments, he'd been kept after class and therefore missed the bus home, his shoes were not the sort one could comfortably walk home in, and to make everything worse, he had a killer case of blue balls.

It wasn't that he had no privacy whatsoever, as if he couldn't get away with locking himself in the bathroom for a few minutes. It was simply that the only computer in the house was in the office, and whenever he was in there, his mother poked her head in every five minutes, giving him absolutely no time to look at some porn before popping off to the bathroom. He wished he were one of those boys that could just grab his dick and go at it, but he'd always been a visual person, and never a very creative one. Any fantasies he tried to come up with on his own had a terrifying tendency to be interrupted by his mother poking her head out of his subconscious, yelling at him for mental rape, about abortions and the patriarchy. If he looked at weird porn, maybe then he'd understand. But, no, he did not get off on farmhouse midget rape, on gagging or spitting or violent anal sex. He liked missionary porn, bland and boring porn where the girl enjoyed herself and maybe they kissed. It wasn't his fault that one has to do a lot of searching through the terrible half of the internet if one wanted to find a video where the couple says 'I love you.' It wasn't his fault that his mother was a paranoid bat, monitoring his internet access at all times.

He would never, ever understand what his father had seen in his mother. His father was a perfectly normal man, with a bit of stomach and his hair a bit thin, but reasonably attractive otherwise. He wore very nice suits and went to work from 9-5, and Greg wondered every day if anyone at his work knew what a loon his wife was.

Gregory's mother resembled nothing more than if a rosy-lipped batfish crossed with a yeti crab. She wore too much makeup, but he'd never seen her with shaved legs. Her hair was always up in a gray clip, greasy brown hair with red streaks going in all directions, as though she were trying for 'high class empowered lawyer' but turned astray at 'raving bag lady.' He didn't think she owned an outfit that was not comprised entirely of sweatpants and an XXL t-shirt with some pithy saying on it; perhaps buying shirts in too-large a size made being an XL seam smaller. Ever since he was five, he'd known she had man-hands; he was glad she didn't wear acrylics, as they would likely only make them into vicious talons. After seeing Star Wars at a friend's house at the tender age of six, he had asked her, unknowing of his mother's madness, if she were part Wookie – if the fact that her hands were so much bigger than the other mothers’, her legs so much hairier, could be explained by her final, adult appearance. He had been grounded for this, and from that day on, had only been allowed to watch the Lifetime channel, unless she approved of whatever other show he wanted to see.

His feet throbbed in his Converses as he shuffled his way past a Starbucks, kicking a discarded cup in annoyance. He'd never been to a Starbucks, due to his mother's politics, but he was sure he'd like it, and he didn't appreciate having to see it everywhere, as though reminding him. He paused, sighed as his conscience pinched him, and discarded the cup. Just because his mother was crazy didn't mean he should be a dick; a part of him hoped that it was this teenage angst he'd been hearing so much about that made her seem so insane, and maybe when he got older they would get along and bond in ways that they couldn't now. He really wished he could honestly say that he loved his mom – or, for that matter, could honestly believe that she loved him.

“Greg?” The voice – high-pitched and slightly nasal, but not unattractive - made him look up from his trash can of brooding. It was a girl he vaguely recognized, probably from school, though he couldn't remember her name. Her eyes were a greenish-brown, and though he was certain nicer metaphors could be found, sewage was the only thing that sprung to mind; her hair was torn between being brown and red, and the cut was not one that flattered her face, though a pretty face it was. Her eyebrows needed plucking, and she looked a bit overweight, but overall she was rather attractive.

“Hey, um...”

“Emily,” she offered, almost apologetically, her face turning a bit rosy. “Don't worry,” she added hastily, “we don't have any classes together or anything, so I don't expect you to remember me from anywhere – I mean, uh, I'm not stalking you or something, I just know who you are because I know Scott, and he talks about you sometimes, and I've seen you around, so...” She trailed off at this point, as though she'd been hoping he'd be able to interrupt her at some point, something like, “Oh, you're Scott's friend! Yes, I know who you are, and will now tell you some of the stories that Scott has shared with me!” He felt startlingly guilty for his having never heard a word about her.

[brohymn]

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, Scott's friend...†he said dully, about a second too late, and he noticed her shrink a little bit, as though trying to hide from the awkwardness of the situation. “Yeah, I, uh, know Scott. We have English together.†Emily's head bobbed a bit, not quite a nod as there was nothing to agree to.

“Yeah, we have French together. Scott and I do. He sits next to me in class.â€

“Ah, see, I take Spanish, so... I wouldn't have seen you.†Emily continued her bobblehead nod for a moment, before it trailed off into the awkward silence. Greg shuffled a bit.

“Sooooo... you're heading home?†At his nod, she continued, “Where do you live? There aren't a lot of houses around here, I don't think...â€

“I live over by Athena's Vineyard? It's, um, over by a kid's park? There's a lot of play equipment, and, uh, a lot of stoners like to sit on the big metal spiral slide and get high before they go down?†At this last part, her eyes brightened and a smile spread across her face.

“Oooooooooooooooh! I know where that is! Christ, that's like, way far away from here. And you have to walk?â€

“My... my mom is really busy, sorta? So she can't really drive me home, and it's my own fault I missed the bus. I mean, it's not that far.†Emily shook her head, clearly disapproving of his reasons.

“May I give you a ride? My car's right here and I don't have anything to do for awhile, so it's not like it's a problem.†Greg's knowledge of his mother told him that he shouldn't agree to it, even putting aside the fact that Emily was basically a stranger, but his aching feet and his growing attraction overpowered his reason.

“Oh man, seriously? That would be so insanely awesome, you don't even know.†Emily's whole face brightened, and she giggled a bit sheepishly; Greg gave her a nervous smile in return.

“Here, my car's the sorta-purple one over here...†The inside of her car was a slightly stained gray, smelling distinctly of a schoolgirl's perfume and various smokeables; the backseat was littered with Beanie Babies and toilet paper, and a pack of menthols sat on the dashboard even though Greg knew for a fact that she was under eighteen. After a silent mile punctuated with shy smiles, she turned on the radio; a Spanish station played, but she didn't bother to change it. He wondered if she genuinely had a love of Mariachi, or if this was one of those ironic things that he didn't entirely understand. When they reached the playground, he instructed her to stop.

“What? Why? I can drive you the whole way home, if you want...†She sounded hopeful, but Greg shook his head.

“No, this is fine – I don't know if... um, I just would rather walk the rest of the way.†Emily's face fell, and for a moment she looked almost heartbroken.

“You think I'm creepy, don't you?†she asked sadly, and Greg's eyes widened as he realized he had made a terrible mistake. “I'm really not some kind of creepy stalker, I mean, I only remembered your name because I thought you were cute, and so I recognized you, and... it's not as though I usually accost boys on the street, or give them rides, or anything, I just think you're cute and you looked really unhappy walking home, so I thought maybe I could give you a ride – and I'm sorry I don't talk much, I just don't have a lot to say, but it's not -â€

“It's fine!†he interrupted finally, unsure how to deal with this outpouring of emotion, of female insecurity, of this suggestion that somehow she had done something wrong. “I seriously don't think you're creepy or anything, it's just that my mom can be a bit weird, and I didn't want her seeing me with you and getting the wrong idea, like I like you or something.†When her eyes widened, he realized he'd made yet another grave error. “Not that I don't like you! I'm just, my mother, and -â€

“Do you like me?†she asked abruptly. Blank terror crosses his face.

“I... I'm not some kind of creep, or anything, like, you don't have to be scared to be alone with me, or anything, I'm not going to talk you into anything or – I mean, I like you, I'm just, it's not -â€

“Wanna be my boyfriend?†It was so very abrupt and blunt that he was not entirely sure how to react for a moment.

“... yes...?â€

“For real?â€

[brohymn]

“Yeah, I'd... I'd really like that, actually.”

“Awesome. Which way do I turn?”

When she dropped him off in front of his house, she kissed his cheek in the manner of high school girls everywhere, and he had turned bright red, having sat on his hands the whole rest of the ride for fear of being misinterpreted. When he had swiftly kissed her back, scared to take too long and be thought of as some sort of pervert, she'd smiled wide, not bothering to hide her glee. He waved goodbye as she pulled away before looking nervously to the windows in front of the house. He didn't see anyone watching intently...

When he opened the door to his room, his mother's face was right there, as though she had been waiting in the exact spot where he walks in after opening the door for the ten minutes it had taken him to take off his shoes and walk up there.

“Aaaagh!”

“What's the matter?” she shrieked, her arms in the air like a crab ready for battle. “Are you scared? Do you feel guilty? Are you worried you were caught acting like a true member of the Patriarchy?”

“What?” His incredulous terror was clear in his voice, as he sounded as though his balls had leapt upward and were taking refuge deep between the coils of his colon, like a bag of pistachios stashed within a pile of rope.

“Don't you what me, mister!” She thrust a righteous finger into his face, pointing accusingly at his sinuses, and a faraway part of his brain registered the smell of tuna as she herded him into his room, all seething rage and bugged-out eyes. “I saw you with that poor gYrl! YOU RAPED HER DIDN'T YOU!”

“WHAT?” He was near tears, scared of his mother and horrified that a longtime fear was coming to pass.

“You raped her! I saw you kiss her, I know! Don't think I don't know about you and your porn! You think I didn't notice that the man is always on top, that he always kisses the gYrl! You were acting out your sick fantasies on some poor gYrl and then you made her drive you home!”

“You watched my porn?” He was momentarily distracted from the unfolding nightmare by the sheer absurdity of it, that upon finding she had not simply recoiled from it, but watched it, enough to know his taste in wank-fuel.

“Of course I watched it!” Her voice was almost high enough to break glass, her arms flailing about in the manner of a bad character actor. “I had to know what sort of sickness was making its way into my boy's mind; I wanted to see if I could understand where I had gone wrong! How I could have made a misogynist, how such a sick thing could emerge from my vagYna! Were you getting off on it when you came out of my vagYna, Gregory? Were you?! WHY DID YOU RAPE ME, GREGORY? HOW COULD YOU RAPE YOUR OWN MOTHER?”

“I didn't rape you, Mom! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! I was just a baby, Mom, it was the only thing I could do, Jesus Christ!” He was unable to keep himself from crying, utterly confused now.

“You raped me, Gregory! You violated the sanctity of my vagYna when you pushed your way out of it, and now you're back to do it again! You raped that other gYrl for practice, and now you're back to overpower your own poor mother!” Gregory, 110 pounds soaking wet and cornered in his bedroom by his 300 pound mother, did nothing but cover his face with his hands while he cried, hoping to God he could protect his eyes if she tried to claw them out, and hoping that if he kept his hands up and away from her at all times, that she would go away.

Before he could register what was going on, or even hope to react, she had unzipped his pants and grabbed his dick with a meaty paw.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” He threw his hands high in the air, throwing himself backward into the wall and staring in horror at the offending hand, completely unable to respond as his brain came to a grinding halt.

“Oh, I see! Swearing at your mother, now, have to degrade me while you rape me?” She yanked on Little Gregory as she said this, in much the manner that one might milk a cow if one has never milked a cow before. He tried to stumble away in revulsion, to maybe push his way past her, but she only shoved him back and squeezed tight in a way that made him wheeze. Being a sixteen year old boy, however, meant that Little Gregory was not particular about stimulation; blue balls is blue balls, and a handjob is a handjob, and the disgusting particulars of the situation meant nothing to the Land of Greg's Boxers. Greg threw a hand over his mouth as he swallowed back vomit and sobbed; he did not want to risk vomiting on her, as he knew better than to think it would dissuade her.

[brohymn]

“... Linda...?†Greg's heart soared: his father was home, now looking on the scene, perplexed. He stumbled past his mother as she was momentarily distracted.

“Dad! Mom, she's, she's... she's fucking crazy! She went crazy, Dad, please get her away from me, please!†He tried to get his never-will-be-clean-again dick back into his pants as he hid at the other side of the hall, his father forming a barrier between Greg and his mother. His mother held her hand up as though it were evidence, her eyes wide and solemn.

“He raped me, Dean. Rape.â€

“Linda.†Dean's voice was stern, and Greg wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling and trying to recover. “It's one thing when you're just saying these things, that's one thing – but I think you've been talking to these ladies on the internet a bit too much. I'm not going to be letting you on the computer for the rest of the year, do you hear me? Now apologize to your son, and stay away from him – we'll be talking to your doctor tomorrow to get this sorted out.â€

“But Deeeean,†she whined, “he raped me.†Though Greg could not see his father's face, it was apparently impassive enough that his mother gave up on him. She turned to Greg with a pout, looking like a child who'd just been told she had to share.

“I'm sorry, Greg. Stay away from me, rapist.†She shuffled out of Greg's room, and towards her own; Greg did not look at her. His father sighed heavily.

“I'm sorry, kiddo. That... shouldn't have happened. Should never happen. I'll see what I can do about this, okay?â€

“What do you see in her?†The bitterness and disgust was clear in his voice, though he refused to make eye contact when he asked. Dean sighed, and Greg held his breath, waiting for the explanation he'd been wanting for years.

“Well, kid, when you're young and on as many drugs as we were, and you find a girl who can give that good of head while that fucked up, well, you marry her first chance you get.†With a gentle pat on the back, Dean followed his wife, leaving a confused son to try and sort back the pieces of his life. Greg shuffled into his room, closing the door behind him before leaning his weight against it. He stood there in silence for a few minutes.

“I need to tell supertrash about this.â€

[e0d9n0b5]

Damm!!!! Unbelieveable

[evisu 2000]

it's pretty believable 2 me

[bouwnt]

in 1945 a young girl named latu came to america from africa in a grey boat when she got here a mystery man killed her by carving the word lakama into her back