Encoder of Words Revealer of Mysteries is what I do. Silence B. Goode is my name, add Mr. to it when addressing me unless we are acquainted with each other. I am a premier investigator of the mysterious. My name as is what I do is unique. It is for me or any investigator that uncovering the solution to any mystery is the reward. However, monetary recompense is welcome. Herein is the Encoder of words and revealer of mysteries. This article follows our Prose, a type of fictional writing with a message.
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Encoder of Words Finding the Mysterious
I am Mr. Silence B. Goode Encoder of Words, numbers, letters, and life itself. Happily, on this day I was walking along the well provided path. This day serviced me well as my walk happened near a river that lined itself with tree’s a plenty and wildlife. At a moment which was no great surprise I happened on myriad of people. Most seemed happy enough, some were oblivious to my presence. Nevertheless, I counted the day as good and the peaceful morning a blessing.
Revealer of Mysteries Part One
As I, the Encoder of Words meandered along the well-worn walkway, there came to mind that I must visit a friend. One whom I knew well but had not seen him for some time. His present location for living quarters were a short distance from where I was at. For on this day of sunshine and warmth, I had forgotten any duties I was going to do and merely walked on and on. It was my purpose to continue for a way and then some to see if my friend was home or not. After some time, my path was becoming rocky and overground with weeds. Thinking I had missed the original path, the thought occurred to me I must have gotten off the previous path. But as I looked around, it was the same neighborhood to which I knew well. But as this place was not as I remembered it, I sought to understand what could have happened.
Prose, fictional writing with a message, yet we include the Word of God herein.
The preacher sought to find out acceptable words: and that which was written was upright, even words of truth.
(Ecc 12:10)
I then heard a voice on the path to which I was walking ever so carefully. “Life is not what it seems”, the voice trailed off. Looking around there was no one I could see. My shoulders shrugged a bit as I was perplexed. Then again, the same voice, “it is filled with potholes, weeds, and difficulties”, this time the voice was somewhat harsh. Again, there was no one around. “Who is there?” I persisted with a question. Silence answered me nothing. The path now had become very slippery, muddy, rocky, and it was obvious that somewhere I had missed my friend’s house. “How could this be?” I questioned. I could not understand how I missed the path as I never swerved to the right or left nor did I turn aside from the one I had been on.
“You asked who is there.” So, I reply “I am here.” “What is your name and why have you come to this place, we do not like strangers like you.”
I looked around and there was no person to which was addressing me. At first, I believed it was my own imagination, maybe my conscience, or could it be I am going crazy? Then it came again, and the voice was angry. “Down here, whoever you are stop walking and look down, directly.” I stopped and surely thought I was crazy. Carefully, with one eye closed and the other open and looking down I saw a small individual some two feet high. Startled, I opened the other eye and jumped back a bit.
“What are you doing there, I asked?”
“Well, it is hard to get you to stop. Don’t you ever watch where you are walking? You almost stepped on Frank and Harry; they are over there in the brush. To be sure you are not safe to be around. Be careful next time.” The voice stopped and the small man before me I could clearly see. A pipe in one corner of his mouth, large boots on his feet, and trousers and a vest completed his array. Yet he had on gold chains draped from his neck and a large gold belt with strange writing on it. “Who are you I asked politely.” “No, I asked you first; anyway, you almost killed my two friends. They believe you are a mass murderer the way you walk and don’t watch where you are going.
Looking directly as I could at the man before me, or below me to be more precise, I continued. “I am Mr. Silence B. Goode, encoder of the arts and mysteries that appear before me.” Having embellished my own resume, I smiled as I looked at him.
“Well, Mr. Silence B. Goode; you are in our territory. The humans used to have this place, but they disowned it years ago after they killed nearly every living thing here. We call this Our Free Place. It is a land where we can be who we are and be happy. That is until someone like you comes along and nearly destroys a good portion of our population.
“I am sorry for that; I apologize to you and your friends.” Relieved to know I was not going crazy; it occurred to me I was having a logical conversation with a two-foot-tall individual that was cognizant of what was going on. I forgot about my friend I was going to see and stood there perplexed. The look on my face must have said it all.
“That is correct, you are here in a place that does not make sense. You have no clue as to how you found us, nor who we are really. This is our Nothing place that is nowhere, yet you found your way here. If it was a something place, then more humans would find our home. We live in that corner where humans disregard and only God knows. I am known as the Felder leader. We Felder’s came to this land hidden away on the ships of what humans call Pilgrims. There are many more of us of different names and families scattered all over. Many have left this land you called America, for it is corrupt. We do not like corrupt things. They are nasty and hate God,” so said the Felder leader.
After waiting a moment, he continued to say “Surely you know those things that be, which you cannot see! For if you would, then you could; but you do not, so those things that truly are, although close to you are indeed far from your own understanding.”
In this, we Felder’s live in your midst, yet you do not know how. We do not let out the secrets we hold, for they are the things which give us life. Our oath and faith lead us on through the tomorrows, yet man’s existence is filled with violence, strife, and those things we Felder’s reject. All except one thing which humans have, which is love and understanding: knowing the True God of Gods. Yet, despite this, yours is a world of chaos and wars. So, we keep ourselves separate you see. This keeps us very much free.
And the LORD answered me, and said, Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it.
(Hab 2:2)
As he finished, he darted off into the trees. I am still today short of words to describe the event or why I was privy to the moment in time at which I came to know the Felder leader.
“Silence B. Goode, where are you, came at me in a strong voice. Ah here you are sleeping again. Get up, you have a friend who is in the front yard waiting for you. Silence did you hear me?”
I stared up at a somewhat perturbed mother. “Yes mom, I heard you.” I retorted
“It just that I had a dream” … I was immediately cut off.
“Good grief, you have more dreams than anyone I know. Maybe if you spent more time in physical labor and getting things done you would not be such a day dreamer.”
I move away from mom as I sauntered to the front yard, looking back she still looked aggravated. I ignored her. She seems to be mad at me a lot these days.
In the front yard stood someone I did not know. A tall thin man, smartly dressed in suit and tie, a round hat on his head, polished shoes, and a smile on his face.
“Who are you?” I asked cautiously.
“I presume you are Mr. Silence B Goode, Encoder of mysteries”. He looked directly at me and began opening his briefcase.
“Wait before anymore of this, answer me this. Who are you and what do you want.” He stood there staring at me as he firmly gripped his briefcase.
“Well, if you must know. I am Thomas Felder, attorney at law, attorney for the mysterious, and well known to keep the law of mysteries.”
“That doesn’t tell me much. What do you want with me? Be sure I have heard of that name Felder before.”
“Well, you should, after all you met him. He is the Felder Leader to whom you met on the path not long ago.” The man smiled as he handed me some papers.
He pushed them into my hands. I turned around to see if mom was watching and she was. I turned around as I said “Sorry Mister, I don’t know what… Hey where did you go?
I came into the house and said, “This guy gave me some papers.”
Mom laughed and said, “that’s just garbage from the can Silence.”
I looked at them and she was right. Where is the guy I spoke to and where are the papers he gave me. “But mom, I talked to Thomas Felder, attorney and he vanished.”
“Well, that explains it, I saw no one Silence.”
Perplexed I threw the garbage back in the trash can. As I sat down under our tree in the backyard, I could not understand this mystery of the Felder Leader and the man I just met Thomas Felder Attorney for the mysterious.
It would be good to see the Felder leader. I would make sure it was always in private. It would be fine if I never knew in advance when he would visit. I just know I would enjoy our chats with my wee friend I know as the Felder leader.
I will investigate this mystery. For I am Silence B. Goode, Encoder of words and revealer of mysteries.
Stay tuned for the next installment from Mr. Silence B. Goode Encoder of Words, this has been Revealer of Mysteries Part One.. there is more!
Bio of Silence B. Goode Encoder of Words
Silence B. Goode is an alias for the individual in this article. He came by his name in a mysterious way. His mother would always tell him ‘Silence Be Good.’ This young man thought it funny to use the phrase as his alias. Over the years he adapted the name and what he did. The fact that Silence is talkative, and persuasive is the reason he is an investigator. It helps him in his work. He is an avid writer and solves the mysteries he comes upon. As of this introduction to the individual, which is the main character, let me say that Mr. Silence B. Goode is 19. He does not have a regular job, yes, he graduated from High School. He lives with His mother as Dad died when he was ten. He helps her at home and works his investigations. Yes, he has managed to make some money with it as his clients list are from teens to young adults.
The Encoder of Words
By Dana G. Smith Author, Writer, Preacher, Teacher, and WatchmanProse, fictional writing with a message
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