What follows is the final manuscript from journalist, Kyle Higgins. Everything posted here is true. For the reader’s convenience, here’s a legend.
- All EMAILS and similar correspondence will appear in Courier font.
- All Editor corrections will be in blue.
- Similarly, all block text is censored by the editor.
- All striked text is the author’s own edits.
With respect to Higgins’ work, I will not use [sic], especially when that’s all he ever wanted from his editor – accept it as is.
The following is the last known letter sent from Kyle Higgins – postage from Dubai. It included the contents of his final manuscript. A piece originally intended for publication at Wake Up World , but the story was withdrawn due to Higgins lack of professionalism with the “snake-charmer” assignment.
Note that this story was originally published among the Indian newspapers as a modern miracle and locals supposed it to be a myth/folk tale come to life.
Higgins was a stark atheist however, and approached it with such skepticism that he was dropped from the assignment, making him all the more determined to discover the truth.
Below is the letter that preceded the final piece of his script.
I’m sorry for not responding sooner. I feel at a loss; misplaced; crude even for thinking this way. I’m concerned with the state of the world. Yes, a bit contradictory from my last letter.
I really thought I experienced something in Dubai and then, on my way home, I started hearing about this whole Jon Hammster thing.
Equally miraculous – equally. And yet I’m feeling a rush since this is all happening so quickly. I’m seeing two sides of a coin I never knew existed.
It wasn’t until my boss sent me another text saying they’ve finished evacuating Times Square that it suddenly dawned on me how clueless I really was.
Cover a piece on TS evac after ur layover in Manchester.
Times Square? Times Square! In a text, no less. I’ve convinced myself he sent that to soften the reality for himself. You know. And not because the boss man’s gotta cuntserve costs with long-distanse calls.
When Sorry for slipping up again. As I’ve said, I made it so far only to have it all reverse in my round-trip. When I was watching the reports on the television, no one seemed to be taking this seriously.
They’ve just evacuated TIMES FUCKING SQUARE, Mark! Every time I turned on the news, it was just more affiramation, “We have the location of the terrorrist,” but they don’t have anything!
This isn’t just a cheap cover up like we did with 1998’s money laudering scandel with President BJ or the 2009’s Christmas Underwear Bomber, having the US seal of approval. No way! We don’t have a spunky intern or Tiger Woods to cover it up.
This could’ve been the next Box-Jelly Fish epidemic.
I don’t know what to make of it. I came to Dubbai to find the truth about the snake-charmer child. I was so God Damn fed up with Wake Up World for stuffing my story. But I stand by my manuscript (final section enclosed). My sceptisism is val was valid… I just didn’t expect but you’ll read my conclusion.
If you can use it, do it. I dont need a check and I dont need the credit. I just want people to know its real.
With this bull shit world, where a God Damn Hammster rules the bull shit. Fuck. Fuck me, man. It figures somthing like this would happen when I was so close to… whatever it was that I saw. We were always expecting the Russians to finally nuke our asses. No one could keep that “Cold War” under wraps. Always blamed the recession on the MidEast, but weave been spending trillions just keepin Russian under control. But a God Damn Hammster?! I’d call him unexpected, but maybe it makes sense to finally be done in by one of our own. Not human, but dammit, he’s an American. Born on this soil-or bedding-Fuck. Don’t be one of them, Mark. Even if the son of a bitch promises you all the gerbil women, do not become a God Damn Fur Scruffer.
I love you, man.
I got a 4hour layover in Manchester, so I figure I’ll finally check out Stoke-on-Trent. You know, before the world ends.
Peace and love,
The following is his completed manuscript and the only clue as to what solace he’d found before being savagely nuked in the attack on Stoke-on-Trent:
HUNG FROM HEAVEN
By: Kyle Higgins
Foreword: By now you’ve heard the story of Orfpheus, and if you haven’t, then get out from under that rock you’ve been living under!
Orpheus is the moddern day boy made legend. A snake-charmer in Dubbai, who got a snake stuck in the clouds. Even if you didn’t see the countless photos, you must’ve heard the stories. And so comes our story, of one journalist (Come on, now!) who sought the truth. Was Orfpheus immatculately concieeived? Did he summon Wollunga (Wollunqua — sp?), as the locals say? Or is he just out to make a buck on the backstreets of Dubyabai?
This is one story you won’t want to miss.
Hey, how do you like that, old chum? I figure I’d send you the story in parts as I traverlers the globe. Speaking of which, thats my cue.
As always, you don’t need to pay me anything, but I will treat you to a full-time editor. This rebellion of grammar is killing me. I know you know how to spell, so stop mistreating the language.
That being said, I’m hooked.
I want to know more and your skepticism is so… snarky and devoid of passion that I want to see you fail — in your discovery, not in your writing.
Keep me informed for part 2!
Oh, and don’t forget to send me your new address.
Wishing you failure in your endeavor,
Nah, I’m just kiddin’ ya, man. You’re right. I can spell better, I just feel the need to give the full-time editor at Fuck Up something to do, ya know? Old habits.
Part 2 and Day 1:
I haven’t seen the boy yet or the snake that dangles from the clouds. What I have heard is some folk-lore and conducted interviews with “eye-witness” accounts. Most of which — I regret to admit — was redacted. The accounts are heavily influenced by who you ask. Below is the event of Orpheus’ birth accordianng to Omprakash “Om” — or as he was born, Giovanni Angeles — of the Love Seed organization:
“On the day Orpheus was born, the ground shook. We felt the chasms from deep within the ocean abyss and a pantheon of dolphins emerged just feet from the shoreline. The clouds swirled overhead and a tornado touched down on the water, twirling waves of the tides up, decorating the whirlwind with water like lights on a Christmas tree. Then, Orpheus appeared, swimming in the eye of the tornado. The vortex, continued up into the clouds, leaving the Earth and then it rained salt water back upon the land as Orpheus rode up to the beach on the backs of dolphins.”
It pains me to say this… but the obvious advocate of Love Seed and all things flowery has a bit more truth to him than I care to admit, but that’s the point of this piece, to bring people the facts without losing my personality.
To begin, Orpheus was born “Orpheus Kirkland,” but unlike Angeles tale, the boy was not born of Mother Earth but of his mother, Virginia “Free Bird” Kirkland.
Virginia Kirkland has her own story:
By the time she had reached the age of 16, she had successfully emancipated herself from her parents and moved in with her 34yo bassist “partner” for local band, Haight Seed. In addition, with her parents being as esteemed as they were, it was almost certain that the child–their daughter–would lose the court trial for her emancipation. But due to Virginia swearing under oath, and her refusal to clarify what she meant by, “[my] parents are suffocating [me].” The court ordered her to be released although the stenographer reveals “vivid hand motions” accompanied the phrase, “suffocating me.” Intentional or not, it was clear how the verdict would go.
After living in a community camp, she became pregnant (a year later) to aforementioned bassist. She feared that the child would not understand his band Haight Seed which led to a split between the two; the bassist believing this meant he must give up his band or his girl.
Accounts report that Virginia was unfazed by the split and it caused the community to rename itself, Love Seed so they could all foster the birth of the child. In addition to this name change, Virginia was renamed “Free Bird,” as she would look after the newborn and was no longer restricted by a man.
Together, the community agreed on the name, Orpheus, to mirror the Musical Mythological God, Orfeus. Music, being imperative to the child’s inception.
However, Free Bird chose to have a dolphin-assisted aquatic birth. This very real process, was undergone at the beach near their convent. This birth continued with critical problems and after much chanting beach-side, Free Bird died giving birth, having underdeveloped organs and a heart-shaped ovum. The community did not see her plight at first, only when Orpheus washed up via dolphin, did they see that he was still attached to her umbilical cord and she had not, in fact, severed the tie.
The baby fell to the next of kin, which was the community.
As far as this interviewer is concerned, there was certainly no tornado or bright light cascading down, but presumably this is best used by the locals to bear a stronger resemblance to the mythology it originates from.
(Letters 2 & 3 not found)
I haven’t heard from you… but presumably you’ve been receiving my letters. I haven’t heard from you, but I’m assuming it’s because I’ve been writing more accurately, so you don’t need to worry.
I trust you got my new address.
I’m heading out.
The boy and the snake… Well
Part 4 and Day 5:
I cannot end this article as sufficiently as I wished. I wanted to maintain my objectiveness with this very rare and not entirely appropriate subject matter, but I can’t (on either account).
Stories spread to America about a snake charmer who raised a snake into the clouds and it never came down. The very thought of this is absurd. A snake-charmer who charms a snake up to the heavens, into the thickness of clouds, and never came down.
The lower part dangled, it’s tale still within a basket, but a cloud remained overhead for over three weeks, and we were unable to see where the snake went.
A boy, of Orfeic-musical talents, raised a small snake into a mile-long python that dangled from the heavens and never came down. It’s absurd. It’s not unreasonable to be a skeptic, but it’s… and I struggle with this statement as a stark atheist and credible journalist… it’s true.
The boy raised a snake–no different from any other snake–from its basket, using the pungi. But the snake never stopped unravelling or ascending. The snake kept on going.
Many protested. Even as I got down there, many tribespeople claimed the snake was a Wollunqua reincarnation and they ordered it be preserved. Others wanted to chop it down, feared it was some end of the world hokum. But Orpheus stayed by its side. He let no one touch it and put up a make-shift fence with the help of the protesters.
As any carnival goer–and in this case journalist–can tell you. A tarp, with limited admittance, just sounds like one of the those preposterous carnival curtain tricks. Behind here is an 800 pound sheep! – etc.
But he showed me.
And he allowed me to touch it.
The snake is alive. I don’t know what it’s eating, but it is alive.
I’m scared and enthralled. I never thought in my lifetime, I’d live to see the day when something wholly miraculous happens. What does it mean? I don’t know. Maybe the Milton-followers will tell you its Satan returning to heaven for revenge, but frankly, I doubt it.
Something strange is happening in the world and it’s worth looking into.
I was becoming jaded with my career, always traveling to places to write about stories that didn’t matter or interest me.
There’s a reason I need to do some reporting. It’s so the very rare and truly exceptional are exemplified with facts and a history of credibility.
I don’t know if the snake will return to normal size or if it will come down, but I suspect there’s much more for us to see in this world than we know.
We don’t agree on a lot, but when all of us see something indescribable, it’s hard not to feel a sense of kinship with your fellow man.
I love you. You’re a good guy and have really helped me with my career. Helped me to be honest and focused even if the work demanded that I sacrifice integrity. You have always been there.
I feel I have always been blind to miracles and only now are my eyes open.
When my flight takes off, as much as physics explains the action of flight, I won’t be able to help but think there’s some outside force at work here. Not me, maybe not God, but something.
Something is guiding us; pushing us forward. All we have to do is keep our eyes open and be journalists. Be kind and courteous even if it’s a load of crap, because it’s a polite way to be a sleuth and determine credibility.
AIn short, rather than assume we’re all obstacles, liars, and cheaters, maybe its time we view each other as starving artists and stepping stones.
Take care of yourself.
Fin. These are the last written correspondence taken with Kyle Higgins before his untimely demise. If you have received the other two letters, please email me at (338) 129-1446 or email me at Mark@Create-A-Center.com
If you would like to donate to Higgins’ family, information will be supplied upon request.
For more short stories, check out Derek Hobson’s Article Archive