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Thursday, October 16, 2014

The boulevard at last



The boulevard at last, we have finally made it through the city; our salvation lies ahead. I think we are safe for the moment. At least, we are as safe as we can be in this plagued nightmare. We should stop and rest; there are no signs of those beasts anywhere and we will need all of our energy to make it out of the city. If my calculations are correct, we have about two miles until we hit the bridge and nine miles to our sanctuary.

We do not have long though. Our pheromones make us tempting entrées out here in the open. I still cannot believe how the immunization has mutated; it never should have caused this type of reaction. I swear we are living in some type of butterfly effect. Damn, I wish I had brought a gun. Yes, these vile beasts can be can be killed at close range with a targeted blow to the head, but I would still prefer to distance myself from them. Are you about ready to move again?

            Great, just in time. Look, over by the Console Energy Center, here they come. Damn, their senses are even better than I imagined. Amazing! It is incredible how the outbreak has spread so quickly through the population; there has to be 5000 or so packed into that small area (way too many for me to stand here and count, that’s for sure). Time to move on; we must hurry.

Quickly, down this alley. I remember this from when I was a freshman at Duquesne. Yes, this should aid our escape. God… Wrong turn! Damn it, those creatures are everywhere. How could they have surrounded us so quickly? It is almost as if they knew we were coming this way, like they knew our escape route. What to do, what to do?
I guess… Paul?

Paul… Stop… There are far too many for you to handle. We must take refuge.
Look, that building would be perfect; the foundation is built on the shoreline. Maybe there is a boat in that shed down there we could find something to aid in our escape.
Paul… Get back here! Mark, John, head inside… Paul…

Stop it Paul! Please! Please stop, I have enough blood on my hands from this experiment. I could not live with myself if I lost another. No! Over Here! No, leave him alone! It, It is me you want. Hey, over here! Damn you… Stop… Oh god, what have I done? Paul, not you, you bastards want me! I did this; I created you. I built the lab and designed the vaccination. Take me! Here I am; yes, leave him alone. I deserve to die. Please lord, have them take me and not Paul, he is innocent.

            That is the way, leave him… If only I had some type of weapon. Paul, run! Meet Mark and John in that building, I will be right behind you. Run, run as fast as you can; they are listening, coming for me. Yes, Paul, that door! You are almost there, 20-yards and you will be safe! Ten more steps Paul, that is all, just ten more. Thank god…


            No! Stop! No! Where did that abomination come from? You bastard! Get your mouth off him. Oh God, Paul, no. God, he is tearing into his neck, ripping at his flesh. Oh God, no, not Paul!

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Complete Me (Poetry)

Complete Me

The wax has hardened
Your image so pure
May plan nearing the goal
Now, I need your essence
Be it hair, blood
A tear
Something to bring your likeness to life
To me
Long have I dreamt of holding you
Fantasies held impossible
Nightmares that challenged my resolve
Everyday I would stare through the grotto
Piercing silently into your world
Wishing it was I on your shoulder
Instead of that glistening feathered friend
I want to share your laughter
Feel your pain
Penetrate your warmth
The ecstasy
 The bliss
Yes, it is time to complete my plan
This string will do
The statue is ready
My ritual at hand
These candles burn to illuminate you
Scorching forbidden pleasures into my soul
Our journey finally in my sphere
NEVAR UOY EVOL I
Come to me
NEVAR UOY EVOL I
Complete me


Thursday, September 4, 2014

Run, Please Run!





Who are you, my vision of beauty?
You still seem so familiar to me,
As if I can sense your every move,
Experience your every fear.
I can see you standing there,
Trembling at the horrid sight before you.
Did one of my brothers do that?
Do I need to ask?

Alas, the bridge to the Promised Land.
Our union… Our destiny… Our reality lay ahead.
I saw this in one of your dreams dear,
The yellow towers rising from the depths of the rapids;
The dark mouth opening ahead of me,
It is just as you described… It is perfect.
Where are you taking me?
Why am I following you?

There it is again… My hunger,
Others must be closing in.
I must… I must feed…
I cannot control myself any longer,
The pain is piercing my abdomen.
Over there… I feel two of you in the corner.
I must compose myself… Maybe I can blend in,
But, the pain… The pain is killing me.

It is weird how the infestation has taken control of my body,
Yet, my mind remains sound.
 For the most part, I can manage these insatiable cravings,
Control them until the flesh calls to me.
That aroma… That fragrance,
The blood flowing like a bitter gravy over your loins,
I cannot take it any longer,
I must… I must feast!

I am close now, only five more feet.
I do not think they realize I am near,
My sanity sets me apart from the monsters that are devouring the city.
I reach out,
The woman…Sheer terror as I grasp her tightly,
Her shriek echoes through the empty streets,
Her partner turns… Pulling the trigger of her cannon,
Wait… No…

How can that be?
The bullet… It tore through me.
I can feel the shards taking hold in my insides,
But, I still stand here gorging myself on the remains of her friend.
First the brains, now, the intestines;
Divine… Absolutely divine!
Her soft skin slides effortlessly down my throat,
Her veins aged to perfection.

Another bullet barely misses me.
I turn to her friend; it is her turn to be my buffet,
That is, unless she runs.
Run damn it… I will not chase you,
I am content finishing off this beauty.
I still have a few bites left before she turns and joins the quest.
Run…. Please run!
I promise I will not follow…
 

Sunday, June 29, 2014

We Are the Children



The hands on the clock seemed to be frozen, as Katy continued to internally debate this decision. It had been two months since her ordeal began. 61 days trapped inside this bland hotel room waiting for the judge to call, waiting to face her demon. The thought of Charlie staring at her, no, looking through her was enough to send her into a panic. But, she knew that Charlie, and most of all, his family, must be stopped. It had been nearly three-years since she turned her back on the family and escaped the mental and physical torture on the ranch.

"How much longer do I have to wait?" Katy asked John, her court assigned protector.

"I couldn’t tell you Katy, they are still laying out the timeline of the murders," John said, "So, this could take a while."

"Damn, I need this to end. I don’t know what's worse, the thought facing Charlie again, or spending another month secluded away in this room," she said taking a sip of her lemonade.

For Katy, this nightmare was killing her. When she ran away in 1968, she thought she would be free; she never wanted to look Charlie in the eyes again, to have him stare into her soul. He was a master manipulator preying on the weak minded to satisfy his lust and desires. The women in his cult were nothing more than whores, used as pawns in nightly drug induced orgies.

At first she thought, these forays into sin were fun parts of the hippie culture back in 67. Free love, sex, LSD, and marijuana lined the tables and she could not get enough. But, Katy was naive and soon realized something more sinister was at work. A runaway, she met Charlie at a party in the desert. Almost immediately, she felt a spark.

18, broke and alone, she jumped at a chance to join the family and soon moved into the ranch. Soon she discovered that she was just another pretty face in this crowd, and not the special blossom Charlie convinced her she was that night when they met.

"You OK, Katy? You seem disconnected today." John said peering across the table.

"No, John, I will never be OK," she said, "Soon the world will know I was one of Manson’s whores!"

"Stop that. You left over a year before the horrific incident," he said.

"Maybe, but I knew something bad was going to happen; I knew someone was going to die. " she said.

Katy remembered the day she knew something was wrong. Charlie started preaching his own gospel, manipulating the word of God. More terrifying to the young daughter of a preacher was the fact that most of his followers believed his prophesy that a racial apocalypse was at hand. She watched as the craving for bloodshed was growing inside the ranch. She knew she had to escape.

On a cool 58-degree night, she slid out the window of her cabin, making sure not to disturb any other family members; she quietly made her way to the edge of the property. From there, she stumbled through to rough terrain. She remembered the rocks piercing her sandals and battering her feet; the cacti grabbing at her legs and slashing her flesh. She had to push through. She had to escape.

Even today, some three-years later, those scars from her ordeal are still visible lining her legs and feet. They marked her body on the outside the same way Charlie's touch stained her insides. Unfortunately, a harsh truth was setting in. The longer the prosecution made her wait in this bland hotel room, the more she felt like she was making a mistake. She knew that she could not face Charlie; she recognized that she still loved him. Indeed, she was still part of the family.

What could she do? She volunteered to testify, to talk about the early stages of Helter Skelter. Would she have to, or could the state win their case without her? Yes. Yes, they could, she thought. There is no way that the testimony of a Manson disciple, one that fled the ranch years before the massacre, could make a difference.

"John, I have a question. Be honest," she said.

"Yes, Katy, what's that?" He replied leaning toward her.

"Does the state need me to testify, or could they win without me," she said, "the longer I sit in this room the more I realize that I made a mistake coming forward. I want to go back into my own seclusion."

"Well, I can understand that, this has to be hard on you, digging up these terrifying memories, but there is nothing I can do. You have to testify," he said.

"John, you are basically my only contact with the outside world. Hell, my telephone does not even work. Do you understand that? Please, can you talk to the DA for me?" Katy asked.

"Katy, I'll think about it. Maybe when I turn over with the night shift tonight, I can make a call. “Relax,” he said, “nothing will happen to you here!”

Katy smiled as she continued to sip on her lemonade. Little did John realize his answer was not good enough for

her; that her internal strife was building. She knew that she could not face Charlie again. But, what was she to do?

What’s that, she thought as the chant of, "Kill him, slaughter the pig, kill," filled her mind. At last, the long dormant voice in her head erupted from the nether. Unfortunately, she knew there was only one way to silence them, one way she could be free. She would have to murder John, and escape this godforsaken tomb.

"John, come closer, I want to tell you a secret," she said.

John moved toward Katy as she closed in. The silence shattered when the glass of lemonade cracked his skull.

"Forgive me John, for we will always be Charlie's children."