436 | Miracle Power

436 | Evan Discusses Miracles and Rejects Poisoned Candy · Developing Soul School

Chapter 1: Evan and His Dad Discuss Miracles, the Savior, and the Power Needed for Soul School

Evan and his dad discuss miracles, the Savior, and the power needed for Soul School while relaxing in Evan's bedroom. This conversation about spiritual training sets the stage for Evan's journey to wake up his consciousness. Evan stretches out on his bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. Posters of galaxies and old paintings crowd the walls, taped over peeling white paint. Late-afternoon light slices through the blinds in pale gold lines, striping the room and his face.

His dad sits in the old desk chair, gently swiveling back and forth. The chair squeaks every few seconds. He watches Evan, saying nothing, letting the silence stretch until it feels heavy.

Suddenly Evan sits up. His eyes burn with desperate curiosity.

“The Savior and I have the same Father,” he blurts. “We’re made in the Creator’s image and likeness. So why can’t I perform miracles like him? What does he have that I don’t?”

Dad breathes out slowly and steeples his fingers.

“People want to believe no one else can ever be like the Savior,” he says. “That way they don’t have to go through the trouble of learning how to work miracles… or risk getting crucified.” His tone is dry, almost amused. “Most people act like the Savior is a special first edition. Limited run. No sequels.”

Evan shakes his head hard. “That’s not true. His disciples train with him. They heal people, cast out demons and work miracles. So what do his students have that I don’t?”

He stares at the galaxy poster above his bed like the answer might glow between the stars. His chest tightens—not with jealousy, but with a fierce hunger. If miracles are real, why does almost nobody live like they are?

Dad shrugs. “Maybe the Savior gives his pupils a one-time, special blessing,” he says. “Something they can pass on like a spiritual inheritance.”

Evan frowns. The idea feels too small.

“I doubt that,” he says. “The Savior still exists. He’s had two thousand years to keep evolving, keep learning. I’m sure he can still bless souls today without having a physical body.” His hands knot together. “How do I become like one of his initiates? How do I get that kind of blessing?”

Dad’s mouth tilts in a half-smile. “Why don’t you ask him?” he says. “If he’s still hanging around, his contact info should be on the Internet.”

He means it as a joke.

Evan doesn’t laugh.

“I tried,” Evan says. “I search and get a mess of answers. Conspiracy videos—old sermons. Everyone contradicts everyone else. I want one recently updated book with all the answers.”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “You seem to have a problem with the two-thousand-year-old book of answers.”

Evan glances at the Bible on his nightstand, feeling a strange mix of respect and frustration.

“Do you really think nothing changes in two thousand years?” he asks. “If that old book had clear, practical instructions on how to heal, cast out devils, and work miracles, the world should be full of masterful beings by now. But it isn’t. Almost nobody lives as the Savior demonstrated.”

He looks his dad in the eye.

“I want to know how to heal. How to cast out devils. How to work miracles. I need that power so I can recruit Soul School students.”

Soul School. His name for the kind of training he dreams about—a place where people learn to wake up instead of drift through life half-asleep.

Dad leans back in the chair, studying him. Outside, a car passes, its sound fading down the street.

“You’re a teenager,” Dad says. “You’ve got plenty of time to worry about enlisting souls when you’re an adult.”

Evan shakes his head. The words slide right off him.

“I fight every day just to keep my consciousness from shrinking,” he says quietly. “New desires, new distractions—everything keeps trying to pull me into this world of fantasy and illusion. I can feel it. It’s like gravity for my attention.”

He presses a hand against his chest. In his mind, his awareness is a small, bright flame he keeps cupping with both hands, protecting it from sudden gusts.

“I need more power just to hold onto what I’ve already gained,” he says. “My body’s healthy now. My mind is clear—for the moment. But my classmates are wrecking their bodies and dulling their minds with drugs, toxins, twisted entertainment. Social media drags them into distractions and addictions. They’re going to be less conscious as adults than they are now.”

He meets his dad’s gaze, forcing him to really see.

“Right now, while we’re teens, we’re choosing our interests, our values, our goals. That decides how we live the rest of our lives. I don’t want to snuff out my awareness with the same stuff choking them. I want to increase it. I want to wake up more, not less.”

Dust drifts through the light between them, slow and silent.

Dad’s expression softens. “I’m impressed,” he says. The words are simple, but they land with weight. “I’ll be even more impressed when you start giving blessings to your own disciples.”

Evan lets out a short, disbelieving snort. He pictures himself, sixteen and awkward, placing his hands on some kid at school who reeks of vape smoke, blessing them like an ancient prophet.

It feels ridiculous.

It also feels uncomfortably possible.

He wonders what it feels like if real energy moves through him into someone else. Heat. Light. A current stronger than doubt.

Right now, it’s only a question.

But it flickers inside him, and it does not go out.

Chapter 2: Evan Warns Diesel, Abby, and Rev About the Poisoned Candy and Loss of Awareness

As the group heads to a new store, Evan warns Diesel, Abby, and Rev about the poisoned candy and loss of awareness that comes from consuming toxic treats. The friends ignore his warnings about the spiritual dangers hidden in the free sweets. The next afternoon, the school parking lot shakes with noise. Engines roar, music blasts from car speakers, voices collide into a messy wall of sound. The air smells like exhaust, freshly cut grass, and cheap body spray.

Evan walks his beat-up bike toward the exit, backpack hanging off one shoulder. His mind keeps replaying last night’s conversation with Dad.

“Yo! Evan!”

Diesel rolls up beside him on a black BMX, hoodie unzipped, headphones around his neck. His grin is wide and sharp—the kind that usually means trouble.

“Let’s hit the new candy store downtown,” Diesel says. “All the treats are free.”

Abby slides in on his other side, her bike covered in stickers—band logos, climate slogans, a hand-drawn crescent moon. Rev pedals up behind them, tall and awkward, his old backpack clinking with whatever he’s stuffed inside.

Evan blinks. “All-you-can-eat candy? For free?” His brows pull together. “How do they make a profit? There’s gotta be a catch.”

Abby laughs, blond curls bouncing. “Why are you always suspicious of free stuff?” she asks. “It’s probably just a grand opening thing. Get people hooked, then start charging.”

Rev pushes his glasses up his nose. “Some of the bio-sustainable sweets are made from insects,” he says, eyes lighting up. “Flies, worms, spiders. I’m sure they’ve figured out how to remove the toxins. It feels good knowing we can save the planet while we stuff our faces.”

Abby makes a face, then shrugs. “Last night my mom made this creepy crawler cake with cricket flour,” she says. “Honestly? It wasn’t bad. I don’t get why everyone freaks out about eating bugs.”

Rev nods eagerly. “There’s research,” he says. “Big studies funded by bug-farming companies. They say adding insects to our diet is a sustainable way to stay healthy. They’re even talking about shaming people into eating worms and flies to fight hunger, protect the planet, improve health, the whole package.”

Diesel laughs. “Critters are a more sustainable source of high-quality protein than beef, bro,” he says. “Dump in enough chemicals and flavoring, and bug burgers taste almost like real burgers.”

Cars drift past them. A siren wails faintly somewhere downtown.

“Three against one doesn’t change the truth,” Evan says under his breath.

They ride in silence for a minute. Evan glances at his friends and wonders if their inner alarms ever go off—or if someone quietly turned those alarms off a long time ago.

The candy store sits wedged between a vape shop and a thrift store. Neon colors pulse in the windows. Big playful letters shout: FREE ECO-FRIENDLY CANDY. Inside, rows of jars and plastic bins glow with rainbow sugar.

They coast onto the sidewalk. As the others hop off and start locking their bikes, Evan slows.

Something feels wrong.

Homeless people line the edge of the storefront—slumped against red brick, wrapped in stained coats and thin blankets even though the air is mild. Faces hollow. Skin spotted with sores. Some stare into nothing. Some mutter at the concrete.

Evan’s gaze catches on their cardboard signs.

THINK BEFORE YOU EAT.

IT’S NOT FREE IF IT COSTS YOUR MIND.

One man, arms scabbed and shaking, rocks back and forth and whispers the same word over and over like a broken machine.

“Poison. Poison. Poison.”

A shiver runs through Evan’s spine. For a heartbeat, he sees more than bodies. He sees gray, sluggish energy leaking out of them, pooling along the sidewalk like dirty fog.

“Did any of you read the signs?” he asks quietly as his friends snap their locks shut. “They’re warning us to use discernment. That guy covered in sores keeps mumbling ‘poison.’”

Diesel snorts. “You’re imagining stuff,” he says. “I don’t see or hear anything.”

Evan looks at him sharply. The signs are right there. The whisper is clear.

Abby glances at the group on the ground, and her expression softens. “They’re just candy junkies,” she says. “They probably don’t even have the strength to go inside. I’ll help them out. I’ll bring them some free candy. Maybe it’ll brighten their day.”

“I don’t think they need more treats,” Evan says.

But Rev is already halfway through the door. “Look at all this bio-friendly candy,” he calls. “I’m totally stuffing myself—for the Earth, of course.”

Diesel points at a wall of color. “Whole section of rainbow candy,” he crows.

Evan hesitates at the entrance. Something pulses at the edge of his vision. In the window’s reflection, a small digital sign flickers to life.

WARNING: BIO-CANDY MAY CAUSE GENDER DYSPHORIA.

He blinks.

The message blurs and flips.

ZERO RISK! CERTIFIED SAFE.

A cool pressure settles in his chest. Every instinct says turn around.

He steps inside anyway.

The store hits him like a wave: sugar and artificial fruit, sharp chemical undertones. Pop music blasts overhead. Teens crowd the aisles, laughing, filming, digging their scoops of bright candy into paper bags.

Diesel fills a scoop from a bin of bright green bears and shoves a handful into his mouth. “Come try these THC dummy bears,” he says, words thick with candy. “They’re insane.”

Rev peers into the bin. “I don’t think dummy gummies are made from insects,” he says. “So which is better? Bug-based candy or plant-based?”

Diesel shrugs, already reaching for more. “Medicinal candy is grown using sustainable agriculture,” he says, parroting an ad. “Protects the environment, uses resources efficiently, promotes environmental stewardship, blah blah.”

“The growers make tons of money,” Evan says softly. “And the stoned users stay happy. Perfect system, right?”

His sarcasm slides right past them.

Abby scoops candy, glancing toward the window. “I’m taking a bag of dummy treats out to the people on the sidewalk,” she says. “Bet this stuff is their favorite.”

Another sign flickers outside.

WARNING: DUMMY CANDY WILL MAKE YOU DUMB.

A prickly buzz runs under Evan’s skin. The colors look too bright, the music too loud, the smells too strong—as if someone dialed reality up one notch too far.

He drops a small piece of candy on his tongue.

At first, it’s just sweet. Then a metallic aftertaste bleeds through. His stomach twists. Nausea rolls over him—but something else rises too.

His awareness flares.

A thin, silvery outline glows around each person in the store. Auras. Some bright but flickering. Some muddy and dim. Some stretched thin, almost gone.

Most of the candy eaters shine like worn-out batteries—just enough glow to keep going, not enough to really live.

Deep inside his chest, a bright thread of energy recoils away from the candy, as if it recognizes contamination. He rips the sweet out of his mouth and bolts for the door.

Outside, he doubles over and throws up onto the sidewalk. The sugar burns on the way back up. The whispering man doesn’t even look at him. “Poison, poison,” he repeats, voice flat.

Evan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Cool air hits his face, and his mind snaps clearer. He can feel his energy pulling itself back together, sealing off the damage.

He straightens and walks back inside, throat raw.

His friends are still feasting.

“I think the sweets are poisoned,” he says, loud enough to carry. “Not enough to drop you right away. Just enough to build up in your brain.” He looks face-to-face. “People can’t stop eating them. They keep coming back, and the toxins stack up. The candy is designed to slowly erase your ability to notice your own awareness is disappearing.”

His words hang in the sugar-sweet air, sharp and out of place.

“If we stay,” he says, “we end up like the people on the sidewalk.”

Abby rolls her eyes, but worry flickers in her eyes. “We’ve been here five minutes,” she says. “And you’ve already exposed another global conspiracy. Can’t you turn off your cosmic awareness and be normal for once? Be like other teens. Try being a little bit naughty without turning it into a spiritual war.”

Frustration and fear crash together inside him.

“The candy is contaminated,” Evan says. The words surge up from somewhere deeper than his thoughts. “The toxins block you from discovering the truth. That’s why the sidewalk is lined with brain-dead adults, hopelessly addicted to poison treats.”

He sees it—like a flash-forward.

Abby, Diesel, Rev… older, hollow-eyed, slumped in doorways, their auras thinned to gray shadows.

“I can see where you’re headed if you don’t walk away,” he says. “Soon it’ll be too late to undo what this stuff does. You’ll waste another lifetime drowning in corrupted unreality. The last of your mystic energy will get misused and then locked up.”

He searches their faces, begging for a crack, a sign that anything is sinking in.

“I’m not making this up,” he says. “You’ve been tricked into believing the free treats are harmless.”

Diesel laughs and throws an arm around Evan’s shoulders like they’re sharing a joke.

“Dude,” Diesel says. “Chill. Have some dummy gummies. You’ll see everything from an ignorant perspective. It’s way easier.” He grins. “Pretty soon, you’ll forget all the little warning signs bugging you. Every indulgent pleasure comes with a bit of painful poison. That’s just life.”

He pops another gummy into his mouth.

“Teens are supposed to act stupid and undisciplined,” he adds. “Take advantage of being young and dumb while you can.”

Something in Evan snaps.

He jerks away, steps up onto a low display stand like it’s a stage, and raises his voice.

“Everyone, stop eating the sweets!” he shouts.

The chatter in the store falters. Heads turn. A girl in a denim jacket lifts her phone, already recording.

Heat floods his face, but he doesn’t back down.

“These candies are poisoned,” Evan says, voice shaking but loud. “Not just your body—your mind, your awareness. They’re designed to make you okay with losing yourself.”

His friends stare at him like he’s lost his grip on reality.

“Dude, get down,” Diesel mutters, half laughing, half embarrassed.

Abby presses her lips together, fighting a smile. Rev watches, torn between curiosity and secondhand shame.

To them, he looks crazy.

To him, it feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, waving at people who don’t realize they’re walking straight toward it.

Chapter 3: Evan and His Dad Discuss Building Self-Discipline and Becoming the Proof for Soul School

Later that evening, Evan and his dad discuss building self-discipline and becoming the proof for Soul School after the frustrating incident at the candy store. They realize that changing others begins with demonstrating true spiritual resilience. That night, the house is quiet. A crime show murmurs from the living room TV, its canned drama leaking through the walls. The fridge hums in the kitchen. Pipes click in the distance when someone turns on a faucet.

Evan sits at the small table by the back door with his dad. A single overhead bulb throws a circle of yellow light across the worn wood. Beyond the glass, the backyard is dark except for a lonely streetlamp two houses down.

His hands wrap around a mug of tea he doesn’t drink.

“I want to kick them out of the store,” he says, jaw tight. “I want to trash every piece of poisoned candy. Just shut the place down.” He looks up, eyes raw. “How do I get enough power to make them listen to me?”

Dad studies him for a long moment. He recognizes the frustration—the same blaze that once drove him when his own ideals smashed into other people’s choices.

“The Savior asks the same question,” Dad says quietly. “But no one writes down the question or the answer.”

Evan leans back and stares at the ceiling. The light fixture hums faintly. His chest feels both hot and empty.

“I get why my classmates dive into addictions,” he says. “I feel the same pull. I like comfort. I like distraction. And I can still mostly resist it… for now.”

He presses his fingertips to his temple.

“I’m scared the poison is building up inside me, too,” he admits. “Quietly. I’m scared I’m going to lose my ability to say no. Every time I give in to some fun distraction that isn’t actually good for me, I feel my awareness dim a little.”

He remembers the first week he gets social media—the rush, the endless scroll, the sudden, empty thud when he finally looks up and realizes hours are gone.

“Then I have to fight to get it back,” he says. “I keep taking two steps backward for every step forward. I spend so much time regaining lost ground that I barely move.”

He looks down at his reflection, warped on the tea's surface.

“How do I convince my classmates to give up their distractions and enroll in Soul School?” he asks. “How do I get them to care about their own consciousness?”

Dad drums his fingers on the table, thinking.

“Asking teenagers to give up free candy in exchange for intense training is… not exactly a popular sales pitch,” Dad says. “Is there something in between?”

Evan thinks of Diesel laughing with a mouth full of gummy dummies, Abby carrying candy to the homeless, and Rev quoting eco-studies like scripture.

“The false teachers already got to them,” he says. “It’s like they enrolled in a fake school without knowing it. The Tempters lure them with treats, entertainment and social media. Before they even start to wake up, they have to stop numbing themselves. They have to quit the mind-numbing pastimes.”

His fingers curl around the edge of the table until his knuckles go white.

“But they don’t have the self-discipline yet,” he goes on. “And the poison in those temptations is designed to kill that discipline. It dulls their interest in truth. It messes with their willpower. Soul School could help them build the self-control they need to say no to the poisoned candy and all the other fake pleasures.”

Dad’s eyes turn serious. No teasing now.

“It’s a noble idea,” he says. “Wanting to help people like that. But it runs into one problem: their right to choose whatever they want.”

He pauses, searching for words that don’t crush the hope he hears in Evan’s voice.

“I get what you’re up against,” Dad says. “I do. But I don’t see an easy solution.”

Silence settles over the kitchen. The clock ticks softly on the wall. Somewhere outside, a dog barks once, then stops.

Evan closes his eyes. Inside his chest, he imagines a small, bright sphere of energy—his consciousness, his longing, his questions. It pulses slowly, like a heart.

Anger at the candy store swirls around it. Fear for his friends. Helplessness that his warnings turn into jokes on someone’s phone.

But under all of that, something else glows.

A quiet, stubborn knowing.

He opens his eyes and meets his dad’s.

“If I can’t force them to listen,” he says slowly, “then I have to find another way.”

Dad tilts his head. “What kind of way?”

Evan doesn’t have the full answer. Not yet.

Maybe it isn’t about shouting warnings from a table or ripping candy out of people’s hands. Maybe it’s about becoming a different kind of signal—the kind of person whose presence tastes like a better sweetness—one that doesn’t rot anything.

Maybe it’s about learning the miracles he keeps asking about, one small, stubborn choice at a time.

“I think I have to become the proof,” he says finally.

The idea scares him. It also feels solid, like the first step of a real path.

Dad nods slowly, like he recognizes something important settling into place.

“Then Soul School starts with you,” he says.

Evan sits very still, feeling those words move through him.

He doesn’t have the Savior’s contact info.

He doesn’t have a modern handbook of miracles.

He has a question that keeps burning, three friends glowing under the light of poisoned candy, and a small, stubborn stream of energy inside him that refuses to die.

It isn’t much.

But maybe it’s enough for the first step.

Chapter Synopsis

While relaxing in his bedroom, Evan asks his dad why he cannot perform miracles like the Savior, learning that spiritual training requires dedication rather than expecting an unearned inheritance. The next afternoon, Evan encounters Diesel, Abby, and Rev, who are enticed by a downtown store offering "free eco-friendly candy" made from insect-protein and plant-based medicinal gummies. Sensing spiritual poison and a toxic trap that erases awareness, Evan tries to warn his friends and even stages a public protest inside the store, but is dismissed as crazy. That evening, Evan discusses self-discipline and frustration with his dad, ultimately realizing that he cannot force others to change, but instead must become the proof of Soul School through his own steadfast choices.

Core Themes & Laws

• The Hunger for Miracles: Evan wrestles with why modern humanity does not manifest the healing and miraculous power demonstrated by the Savior, concluding that people avoid the required inner training.

• Poisoned Distractions and the Loss of Awareness: Free toxic treats, insect-based food additives, and recreational chemical candies act as subtle traps designed to slowly numb human consciousness and erode self-discipline.

• The Illusion of Freedom in Consumption: Peers like Diesel, Abby, and Rev eagerly consume modern conveniences and sustainable junk science, mistaking superficial compliance for genuine freedom.

• Becoming the Proof: Unable to force others to wake up or rip poisoned candy from their hands, Evan learns that true spiritual leadership begins with mastering oneself and becoming the living proof of Soul School.

Key Entities Featured in this Document

• Evan: A high school student who fights to keep his consciousness awake, confronts poisoned candy stores, and resolves to become the proof of Soul School.

• Evan’s Dad: A grounded mentor who guides Evan through discussions on miracles, teenager realism, and the necessity of personal discipline.

• Diesel: A student who enthusiastically embraces free THC dummy gummies and bug-protein candy under the banner of sustainable eco-friendly consumption.

• Abby: A student who brings eco-friendly snacks to the homeless outside the store, caught between compassion and unconscious consumption.

• Rev: A student who rationalizes insect-based foods and sustainable bio-friendly candy through online studies and eco-friendly talking points.