all this romanticizing of the gremlin lifestyle has done wonders for my self image

15 - The Dark

For some reason I didn’t feel the rush of exhilaration I had hoped to achieve in reaching the exit.  My mind might’ve been numbed by what I’d been through to allow such a mood, emotionally drained by the experience and horrors of what I had seen.  It was such an empty sensation, completely robbing me what of I felt was deserved. Closure. But as with all matters tangled in Mount Massive’s mockery, I was to be disappointed.

I hesitated, straining to pick out the odd sounds beneath the heavy rain.  A flash of light clarified the grounds momentarily and I burned the image into memory.  Overgrown grass obscured most of the pathways, a net of greasy branches stretched over the sky.  I moved into the cold rain and the dark, stepping carefully down the slippery stone steps.  Lightening flashed, and I thought something skittered past overhead.  Impossible, given the image wasn’t the best on the visor between the green tint and the heavy rain, there was nothing out here.  As the flash fades, I could only see the brick path and the overgrown grass before me.  I was the only living thing out here. Or nearly so.

A beam of light cut through the downpour and the glossy branches, sweeping over the yard.  There light was too bright on that side to confirm it, but it had to be ‘Father’ Martin.  He’s the only person I knew of that used a torch.  Pretty sure.  He was signaling me from across the yard. I think if I had the chance, I’d like to strangle him.  Get him caught in an elevator, or cut his fingers off with a pair of giant shears.  The camera was getting low on power, had to move it. Strange sounds echoed in the wind, snapping branches or something large crashing through the gaunt bushes along the cobblestone path.  Sometimes I thought it was following me, but the rustle would soften at a distance or maybe the rain was picking up force.  I ducked down when I thought Chris appeared, but it was only my imagination forming shapes in the NVs haze.  No one was out here with me, just Murkoff staff cut up and sitting drenched on benches, staring with glazed eyes at the storm.  Did they come out here to die, or did someone leave them like this?   I was soaked before I reached the fountain.  So much for getting dry, at least rain was clean.  That sound again, something shrieking in the night and I thought there was a form overhead, in the branches as they crackled.  I tried to follow it with the camera, but my nerves gave and I whimpered as I knelt to crawl along toward the only visible light.  It no longer signaled me.  How long had Martin been out in this weather waiting for me?  Not long enough. Leaves scuttling along the ground spooked me, the way they played at the edge of the visor.  I stopped in the downpour to get up, and fought to wrangle my breathing under control.  My chest ached with my heart thudding in my chest, the wind picked up and I shivered into the soggy embrace of my coat.  There was nothing out here but dead people and a psycho guy that fancied himself a priest. I remained wary though as I moved up the steps, beneath a broken lamp blazing in the inky night.  I had to change the batteries in the camera, a tricky choir in the rain.  I crouched low and tucked the camera under my coat and popped out the old battery, then slapped in the new one.  My camera was keeping me more alive at this point, rather than provide the evidence at my psycho evaluation.  I had some difficulty slipping the strap back over my hand, my knuckle was a little swollen and I needed to loosen it in order to get it over.  Once it was done I wouldn’t need to worry over it for a while.  Probably. No one was waiting for me when I reached the top of the steps.  Only the words scrawled in blood on the wall across from me how alive are you At my feet on the damp cobblestone and in a diluted puddle of blood, rested a file in a plain folder.  Inside was a notepad tinged by the soaking rain, but enough of the note was illegible. “I don’t even know your name. But I’ve come to think of you as one of my blood, my Paul, I hope you don’t mind. And I hope you don’t indulge the vanity of self-pity, the fear that your suffering is more than others’. We all must endure this, and you are nearly done. There’s no way to heaven but by the cross. And every man needs another to help drive the nails in. I am here for you. I am waiting up ahead.” This actually would have been really comforting, except at the end where he mentions the cross.  If he thinks he’s crucifying ME, I’ll be more than happy to disappoint.  I’ll die before he gets ahold of me again.  Fuck them all.  I’m not going through all of this to wind up as some sacrifice! I tossed the folder down and cautiously crept up the steps at the right to a wire fence, the door and frame wrapped with thick chains and padlocked tight.  Stepping back, I examined the gate standing between me and presumed freedom. In favorable circumstances I’d fly over a chain linked fence.  What was it to me?  An insult to my dexterity?  Right now, too many factors worked against me to attempt the climb.  The weather was bad, barbed wire at the top, don’t mention my fingers, and I was bleeding again.  It didn’t look like there was much for me on the other side either, it this just led into another yard. Damn, where do you have to go to get out of this place? I judged the fountain to be a center piece of the yard, if that assessment was correct I would locate other pathways leading from it across the grounds.  That would keep me from getting too lost, I was incredibly disoriented with the weather and all-consuming black.  As I made the return trip, a light glittered in the distance between tree trunks and mist.  I kept my attention locked on it while trying not to deviate from the path, it was tempting to tear across the yard if only to find the source. Overhead the branches groaned and snapped, I ducked down as that noise returned, sounding like pellets in a pipe and shrieking with the crashing thunder.  I dove off into the tall grass and kept low, listening and searching for what might be there.  A shape slipped through the treetops, but the night blazed with green brilliance, blinding me through the NV.  I turned my head down and realized my knees and shins were soaked in the icy mud, but I didn’t care.  I didn’t want to move and alert whatever was out there to my location and have it come down on me screaming mad.  I didn’t want to see it, I didn’t want to know what was there. It was just getting to me, the weather and this feeling of isolation in the yard.  It made me feel like something was out there stalking me, and only me.  I needed to get into some shelter and dry off.  Or just get out of this drumming rain for a bit. I shuffled along ducking beneath the low twigs and pressing through soaked brush.  I’m certain the path was at my back but I didn’t want to find it just yet, I needed to stay hidden in the undergrowth until it felt safe.  I’m not sure what I was hiding from but I needed to stay hidden from it.  Recollections of the sewers, people shrieking behind the metal gates as an unseen force punished them.  I exhaled a sharp breath and pressed my left hand over my face.  Don’t go back.  Try not to think about it.  I murmured something strange, a comforting sort of sound to reinforce my resolve. I’ll get out of this.  But I have to keep moving. Another gate appeared in my path, and I ran my hand carefully over the chain linked fence. A stone wall was built on the other side, crates stacked on the floor.  There was a door in the wall. The gate was locked with chains— The timber above snapped and fell onto my head, and that screech rang in my ear as though it were right beside me.  I whirled away tearing through grass and sharp brush towards the stone fountain, not stopping until a light in a doorway appeared somewhere on my left.  I flew to it not hesitating before I slammed into the door at full force, and flung it shut with a loud CRACK!  I stood quivering under the light, dust swirled in the warm beam as I panted, gazed fixed on that door.  The storm howled beyond the weathered wood, sounding eerily like human sobs.  What the fuck had that been? Power in the nightvision needed to be changed out.  Already?  I just changed the battery.  Something was going on here.  Much of the same that clung to this place, a lot I didn’t understand and what I did get still made no sense. I switched out the battery and looked at the small tool shed I had crashed into.  Some basic things, a few shelves with paint cans, some pliers and wire cutters, and propane cans stacked by the door.  There were a few hooks, and one had a silver key dangling on it.  It had to be a key to somewhere, maybe one of the gates?  I had to go back out there and search them all down.  It could be done, but it would be time consuming. Before heading out I gave my camera a quick evaluation, to make sure it was still in satisfactory working order.  I rubbed off some of my bloodstains that had clotted on its side and checked some of the footage, in a dull state.  It began to frighten me how little I reacted to my own terror in the night, as though I didn’t care five minutes previously I’d been racing across the yard in a panic.  I did forget my initial goal was to confirm the camera was still operational despite its abuse, but I’d fallen into a repetition of cycling through all its functions and struggling to adjust the color settings, despite the mechanical flaw caused by being thrown out of a fuckin window.  I eventually gave up and stared at the visor as it recorded the floor of the shed. Time to go. The handle turned loosely in my hand and I pulled the door back, while keeping my shoulder by one side in case I needed to shove it close.  I didn’t have my camera up yet so all I could make out was the oily yard with its slumped shapes glimmering under the flash of electricity.  The sky was a muddy expanse stretching over the tree tops, it seemed lower than the sky should be, barely brushing above the canopy of jagged timber.  There was nothing hostile, nothing visible I wouldn’t come to expect with the relentless storm.  Complete silence but for the thick water and rumble of thunder.   It was eerie, after I had raced across the yard accustomed to the bizarre sounds, and suddenly there were none.  For a moment, I was startled by a black shape hovering near the fountain, but in a flash of light it was gone.  Just the guard slouched on the bench, on the other side of the yard.  It was him I had seen, very dead and immobile, nothing could change my mind. I returned to the gate beneath the light, where ‘Father’ Martin had left his message.  I took the padlock but found I was wrong in my assumption.  The key was thick, more along the lines of a skeleton key, and the padlock used the more modern thin keys.  Damnit. I climbed down the wall and walked along one side of the yard hunting for a door, or gate that would use the key.  There had to be some sort around here, Martin left the key in the shed for me, the mystic bastard.  Couldn’t just leave doors open, has to lock me in and leave me to the mercy of his ‘disciples.’  This place was probably Satan’s holiday house.   A light on the other side of the yard caught the visor, and I started in that direction in a casual jog.  It sounded like a shape was shredding through the canopy overhead, I hunched down as I hastened my pace through a sharp gale of wind and rain.  I doubt the light would deter it but the dark didn’t seem to do much either.  I shoved the key into the lock breathing a small sigh of relief when the latched clicked.  My hand fumbled with the slick knob, scraping my finger in the process as I forced it open and threw it shut after me.  I moved away from the door and fought back the trembles that clutched my body, just couldn’t get myself under control.  Beyond the wire door I thought there was a dark mass swimming through the storm, but a boom of thunder killed out any sound there might’ve been. Focused and still, I waited for nothing.  The water made a soft pit-pat sound as it dripped from the edges of my soaked coat and chin, insects buzzed overhead driven wild by the intense light.  The gentle atmosphere somehow overpowered the nightmare of the storm and what it concealed.  I allowed myself one whimper as I let the tremors take me, tensing my muscles to block out some of the cold.  There was something out there and it was following me.  I don’t know how to explain it.  I don’t want to explain it.  The very notion I couldn’t comprehend this terrified me.  What the fuck was it and what did it want? My mind kept flashing back to the sewers, the wails and sobs of people dying.  The sounds.  Those sort that couldn’t be replicated.  They were the kind of sound a person made the moment death took them, and would never be repeated by that individual.  Death throes. I changed out what was once a battery at half-life, and put one with full power in.  That should last me.  Maybe. It looked like some sort of greenhouse, or was once one until the asylum came to be in the early nineties.  I moved away from the wall to distract myself with this place, this façade of reprieve.  No plants were kept in here, just some pallets and materials for the grounds.  Windows along the upper walls flashed with peculiar outlines, like faces watching through still portraits and the unsettling sensation that I was not alone and had never been alone in this place.  Just nerves, I told myself.  I was cold, soaked, and the lightening hid shapes as it revealed me to those same shapes I hid from. I gave a loud sneeze and bit my tongue.  Perfect. Briskly, I moved out of the light, into the shadow of the doorway at the other end.  I raised my camera and gave the crossing corridor a look over, before I stumbled out into someone.  Smelt like people came in here to piss as though the yard was too good for them.  In this weather, it might’ve been. Looked like most of the material for reinforcing the doors had been hauled from this storeroom, it must’ve been stocked with lumber before the nightmare began.  Two by fours and plywood were leaned against one side of the wall, and on the other was a shelf with a hammer and some dried out potted plants.  Pieces of splintered wood lay across the stone path, and nails had been scattered to the sides.  A radio had been abandoned on a shelf out here, but the batteries were not the right ones for my camera. I turned to check what the other side might offer, and stepped through a doorframe into a spare shed.  At the far end the exit awaited, nearly missed as I scanned the entrance, skittish as I was.  I was spooked by the icy dots of rain that hit my face, only to realize there was a large hole in the roof above.  I shut my eyes and exhaled trying to calm myself.  Just the rain, it was just the rain.  Though I was freezing, I didn’t bother to move out from under it, as I looked over the room. Thin boards lined the walls and some propane tanks were left stacked at the furthest corner.  Shelves were dotted with eroded paint cans, and more tools to reinforce doors without restraint.  Good to know all that hard work and sweat had paid off in the end.  I could just imagine Murkoff freaking out, terrified by the things they created and not understanding any of it.  Just trying to get barricades built, doors sealed, and then curl up in the darkest corner while they listened to their colleagues, abandoned outside, get pummeled by the big fucker.  And he seemed like such an interesting man. Slowly, I turned the handle of the door and pulled it open a crack to scope out.  Tall brick walls extended from the building on either side, effectively boxing the path in.  I heard a noise like… screeching.  Nails on a chalkboard, or something?  Thick bars stretched from the wall into the dark, at the current range of the NV I couldn’t see how far. A form in the dark.  I’m not sure how to describe it, it was an outline at first, then it took a shape.  It was insubstantial and had no face, just what looked like a head perched on a rib cage as it fluctuated and shrieked and… headed RIGHT TOWARDS ME! It was right at my face before I slammed the door and braced my shoulder against the icy steel.  A strangled cry came from my throat as my ribs crunched under the force.  I didn’t see that, what was it?  That was impossible, it didn’t walk, I didn’t see its feet!  It didn’t have feet, it— The door shuddered but it was too dark to see, what I could make out was through the visor quivering just beside my face.  It… materialized, and crawled ‘through’ the crack under the door.  I only caught glimpses of the fog, I was too lost in fortifying a barrier on something that was slipping beneath it like in a cartoon.  This isn’t possible, not possible!  This isn’t natural what’s going on here!  Was that its head?  Was it looking at me?! When it grabbed at my feet I charged out of there, crashing into the metal gate under the light before I recalled how doors worked.  I fled across the yard stumbling through grass, bushes, and finally toppling over a bench I didn’t see in the black veil of night.  Somehow in my madness I fell to my good shoulder and skid across the stone path, terrible wails surrounded me in the gloom as the lightening blazed and the world came into momentary clarity.  I envisioned the patients surrounding me, Chris Walker in the distance stalking through the yard.  A shapeless form howled as it hovered over me, reaching out a twisted branch to crush my head.   Strange sounds curled around me, and I knew was making them.  I tried to block it out as I twisted to rise but something was wrong, I rolled sideways and fell down again before my legs could carry my weight.  Once I was mobile, I raced the rest of the way to a bright light shimmering in the distance like a salvaging beacon.  It only occurred to me as I flew up the steps that it was the same Asylum that I had recently escaped.  It was the last thought in my head as I barreled through the nearest door, into the dark and dry safety of this horrible place. I didn’t get a chance to fling it shut, my instincts screamed – flee, flee, escape, HIDE!   I crammed my body into the furthest corner between the bookcase and a desk.  There I cringed, panting, shivering, wide eyed, and waiting for the thing to find me.  I just couldn’t understand what I saw.  Couldn’t comprehend it.  I wasn’t into the supernatural, I’ve never see shapes or heard voices…. Up until I came to this crazy place.  How could I have been charging all over this messed up Asylum, and only now out in the yard I come across something vaguely supernatural.  It didn’t make sense.  I felt like I just lost my mind.  I was fuckin insane.  Completely bonkers. “God help me, I think I’ve seen the Walrider.” My ears are ringing.  That shrieking snarl, when I was face to face with it….  I don’t know what happened.  There was a flash, I thought it was the lightening, but it felt like I suffered a sharp blow to the head.  I thought I’d seen into its face, o god, inside its skull… I didn’t feel right.  Not bad, I didn’t feel good either, but not bad, but something….something doesn’t feel right.  Like I lost something, or forgot something.  Just my nerves, I’m shook up and cold, and probably not in the best of health with all the blood loss. I wipe some of it from my hands, but with the heavy rain the clots can’t hold.  Couldn’t stop here, had to push on.  Find that proverbial light out of this hell hole.  No ‘illusion’ of MKULTRA would stop me. My legs felt soupy as I made the long trek back to the gate, the only route I knew that might offer a way out.  Or lead someplace dry.  It took some time to find the gate, I left the door wide open and became confused when I saw the smaller shed through the rain.  After further searching, in which time I’m certain I was more lost than I should have been, I did find the greenhouse.  I shut the door behind me and listened, primed to bolt if I saw it, or heard that unnatural call it generated.  I couldn’t fabricate the exact noise in my head, only that it was inhuman and terrifying. The metal door was untouched, and still in one piece.  It had been crawling ‘under’ the crack.  How the hell? As before, I opened the door slowly and strained to hear.  Noises did come, illusions my mind conjured of screams as the thunder rolled, or the rustle of leaves beside the metal bars flipped about.  I felt like I was losing my mind.  Give me naked thugs, deformed giants, freak doctors with huge scissors - give me a ghost, massive nope factor right there. I slid through the door and shut it behind me.  On the ground swirled dark splotches in clear puddles, another one of Martin’s markers for me.  I had this insane thought that maybe it was hiding in the blood.  What was I thinking anymore? A soft hiss issued from the other side of the bars, and I threw myself against the set to the left when I thought it was coming back.  I saw nothing, no vague outline, nothing.  Just the blaze in the sky, sometimes I thought there was a corpse sitting in the distance, washed by rain, or was it the black outline of a tree framed by light?  I couldn’t tell anymore.  If I kept moving, everything would be all right.  If I waited, it would find me. I turned the corner and stepped off the stone path into thick grass, with about an inch of water coating the soil.  The mud clung to my shoes and weighted my feet, I wobbled but managed not to fall over.  It was a challenge staying on my feet as it was, I didn’t need to fall to my hands and stuff mud into the wounds. A lamp blazed down into some sort of storage yard, from when Murkoff remolded the place for reopening.  A lot of materials they couldn’t get rid of such as concert barriers and pallets were sorted and stacked.  I ducked back from the halo of light when the brittle timber above snapped and dropped into the grass, not far from where I hid.  I raised the camera and kept low listening as the sounds moved off, a soft tinkling of metal pellets echoed from the distance.  The same sounds I heard in the sewers, when I thought I saw shadows. Beside the lamp was a ladder fixed against the brick wall.  I fastened the camera in its hoister and started up, keeping a tight grip each step I pulled up.  The heavy downpour coupled with my muddy shoes made the exercise a difficult one, I nearly lost my footing twice before I had a suitable rhythm down.  Overhead, jagged bolts crossed over the black sky, blinding me briefly but I held my climb steady.  I’ve done this hundreds of time, the weather just complicated the task. The ladder ended abruptly, or it seemed to when I couldn’t see how far I had to climb.  I crawled onto the roof of the greenhouse, or whatever the building was and fumbled for my camera.  I bit the edge of my lip when I tried to force my hand through the strap and wound up jamming my finger on the thick material instead.  Carefully, I slid my fingers under the loop and gripped the camera tightly in my hand, trying to ease out the knot of pain rolling in my knuckle.  I tasted blood but I think it was worth it, distracting myself momentarily from everything else. I used my left hand to steady myself as I stood and stepped up the remainder of the slant, onto the flat surface of the roof.  It was comprised of wooden shingles roughed by hours of sun and harsh winters, easy to keep traction on even with the thick runoff.  I focused on the visor of the camera as I stepped along, the power is more than half done with.  A flicker of light reveals the shattered portion of the roof, for which I gather a short dash before I make the leap.  In a surge of brightness that follows, I nearly stagger back from a shape below my line of sight, but it’s solid and thin and not the thing in the dark. A man sits on the roof of the greenhouses entrance.  I must’ve looked like a lunatic to him, running everywhere in the dark and hiding in the glass.  Or, was he watching it too?  He’s emaciated and stares into the unyielding storm, silent and still, aside from the brief movement of his hand scratching at his chin.  Beside him sits a small walkie-talkie. I shuffle to the low section of the roof, eyes fixed on him should he realize my presence.  I kneel low and reach beside him to pick up the small device without disturbing his watch.  My camera is already dimming, I toss the depleted battery aside and put in the one I’ve just picked up.  It’s dead as well, which would explain why he’s not listening for chatter.  I toss that battery as well and put in one of my own. Half dead, but it’ll do. I pull myself back up to the roof and resume my way.  The path comes to an end, above the curl work of barbed wire topping a fence below.  As I glance around, I’m certain someone has screamed out there in the yard, but I can’t decide which way only that it sounded painful.  On my left there’s a decorative ledge running along the Asylum’s wall, the opposite of which direction I’m almost certain that shrill originated.  I step back and get up some speed before leaping.  When I hit, my shoes skid over the water coating the slick cement, but I keep on my feet.  Another roof was not far from the ledge to the left, I walk over to it keeping the camera firm in my grip as I leapt to the soaked wood without issue.  In the branches I pick up the crackle and rustle of something, but I can never see a definite shape.  I pause to crouch down and film open air and the rain, until the echoes have either faded or my mind ceased to fabricate them.   I push myself back to my feet and continue, barely three steps before I reach a piece of plywood lain down bridging the roof to some scaffolding.  More evidence of Murkoff’s attempted repairs before everything went to shit.  Some boards are set over the short space, which I cross as I constantly search the ground and the canopy.  It feels like the sounds are following me.  I’m almost elated by the notion, despite the pulsing in my veins.  Did I want to see it again?  I don’t think so.  But I was curious.  The initial shock had worn away, and every scuttling noise I thought was the thing in the dark terrified me.  But it also teased my inquisitive nature.  I teetered on a delicate and dangerous line, if I drew to near the sun it would burn me.  But I couldn’t help myself.  I wanted to forget why it frightened me, and learn why I should be frightened by it.  My heart thumped with the acuity, just a glimpse of the shadow to know I wasn’t losing my mind. I step from the short structure of scaffolding, onto a flat cement ledge.  There’s no other direction to take, the ground below I can barely find without the zoom.  To my right is a thin gutter line, a possible path I’m not comfortable to attempt in the fierce weather.  But I could manage it.  I set my heels against the wall and shuffle out testing my stability, the edge ends just beneath my toes but I press my back against the cold brick and chance it.  I have my camera crammed under my chin at an awkward angle to avoid bumping the wall with my elbow.  I can barely keep my balance, and see enough just through the visor this way. As I slipped around a sharp corner, my leg nearly gives out and I slip a bit but catch myself by pushing off the wall a fraction.  I sway in the open air as the wind tugs at my drenched coat, if I budge I will fall and snap my leg, or something worse.  It will be painful.  I let my body sway until my back gently touches the brick wall, then I continue, shuffling slower this time.  The small path ends on a large cement ledge, I drop to my knees to catch my breath.  A set of planks awaits a few feet from where I lean over, appearing very sinister in the flash of light and the crack of thunder that follows. The noises around me have calmed somewhat, and it’s just the rain and I.  This doesn’t comfort me, though it should.  I feel unsettled, like the eye of the storm.  Using my camera I search for my next heading and zoom in on a slanted roof a short distance, beyond those unassuming planks.  I return to my feet and secure the camera in my grip, I take a short dash before I leap.   When I hit, my foot slips over the rain cascading off the rough planks and I topple sideways.  I clutch the camera to my chest and jam my elbow against the slant, twisting around to force my body parallel with the edge.  I shove my feet against the friction and hold, until I’ve stopped completely.  The night feels cold and silent, except for the rain drumming on my face generating its soft prattle.  Water gathers at my side where I’ve blocked it, filling my coat and jeans with the frigid liquid.  I’m so cold. After a minute I collect my senses and inch away from the edge of the roof, until I can flip over and get up on my hand and knees, and crawl to the top. When I make it to the other side, I’m dismayed to find no other path to take.  This should be good news, but I preferred being someplace high where I couldn’t be reached.  I examined the distance to the floor from the roof before I put my camera away, then lower myself from the edge of the roof by my hands.  A light shining from a pole above cut through the dark, offering some visibility before I dropped to the cobblestone floor.  Some crates had been left beneath the roof, as though to protect them from the elements.  Steps lead a few feet down towards a dead guard, and a steel door I bet would be locked.   I made my trip down to confirm this belief, and to get out of the rain for a bit.  At times it felt colder sheltered from the constant pummel than wandering through it.  The guard has nothing worthwhile on his person, not even a candy bar.  Not that I want one, but I was thinking about it.  Up a set of steps on the opposite side, sat some neglected sawhorses and another collection of pallets.  Otherwise, another dead end.  I climbed over the short wall, down to where the ledge sheltered the small walkway and where the guard sat.  I could see a path to take if it led anywhere worthwhile, a stack of pallets across from me was fixed beside a dumpster, both positioned under a cut out in the fence.  The sounds came again, rattles in the pipes or a frail cylinder cast by the strong wind.  I shrank into my coat but didn’t bother to raise the camera or seek out the source, I’m not certain at that particular moment what I was thinking, other than I needed to move. I raised my right hand to my face and blew in my palm, to get some of the chill from my fingers.  It wasn’t very effective, but the warmth did ease the pain a little.  That same sensation came over me, the jolt to my head or some kind of vertigo.  I shut my eyes and let the feeling pass, I kept repeating in my head ‘keep moving, keep moving’ but I wasn’t ready.  I just wanted to stand out of the rain and stare at nothing, maybe wait for the storm to pass, but I know by the time it did, it would be too late for me.  The wind slid under the ledge and I gave in, crossing to the pallets and climbing up to the fence.  I couldn’t fathom who might have cut the wire, a few pairs of wire cutters and a chainsaw had been missing from the toolshed.  I was screwed if Chris Walker was out here with the chainsaw. I was still so fuckin lost.  You’d think I’d be able to find my way around outside, without the walls and abundance of locked doors, but no.  I was somewhere, maybe in the backgrounds of the Asylum.  I couldn’t locate a feasible way out of this place, had to keep heading around searching for one of the locked gates to the front.  There had been a few I looked at before finding that shattered gate, but there was the staff parking I had viewed on the one side. “Have to get out….” I stopped as I turned the corner.  On the ground lay a patient, by a steel door pinned with boards.  I gave the handle a rattle and it clanked hollowly on the other side, but the screws in the stone kept it from budging.  The patient seemed wounded or sick, I gave him his distance as I moved around to the only route visible.  Fence on one side, fuckin big building on the other.   When I reached my jeep I was going to crank up the heat, tear off my coat, and just get my skin warm.  And comfortable warm, not hot, not inferno, not hell hot, just warm.  I was beginning to loose feeling in my fingers and toes, I was soaked to the bone, and I just didn’t feel right.  My head was still ringing from when the thing screamed at me, it might’ve damaged my eardrums.  My hearing seemed fine, just that humming I couldn’t stand.  Felt like it was in my nerves. There was another door, up some steps on the right.  Same as the previous, locked solid.  Don’t know why I bothered checking, force of habit.  I did want to get some place dry for a bit, but anyplace in Mount Massive I’d soon come to regret.  Miserable place this was, would never wish it on my worst enemy because, I’m not that kind of guy. Trager’s too good for my enemies. The lightning blazed and I spied another tall fence ahead, with a patient plastered to it shuffling against its side.  I observed him through the visor as I approached, he seemed near oblivious to me.  “I can see his ghost.” What was it they were so fixated to find out here?  When I was close enough to see him clearly, I found that he had been coddling the gate for so long his face was a bloody mess and his nose was missing. It reminded me of lizards in the pet store, if they wanted to get out they’d rub their nose on the bars until their lip had worn away.  Pitiful to see a human like this, out here in the rain. For a span I recorded beyond the fence, to pick up what it was he saw or to confirm my doubts, I wasn’t sure.  Sometimes I thought there was something, a glimmer and shift in the lens, the film was always clear and never faltered.  I could hardly remember what it was I thought waited out there, only that it could stare back, and this made me uneasy.  The patient mumbled something as he moved closer to me, and I only recalled that we were standing completely exposed to the storm. Well, I realized I was standing in the rain.  I didn’t bother the other man as he sought to see his delusions. The fence ended at a wall, to which brick stairs led to a higher patio.  Across from the steps two benches were poised, on one sat a man in a straightjacket and chemical scarring marred his face.  His eyes glistened in the NV when he noticed me.  I turned to climb the steps, halfway up he called after me, “Be as one of us.” I hurried to the upper level through an open gate, one of the first in a long while.  Blood and gore was in my immediate path, I continued in that direction passing various guards and doctors of Murkoff, in a splattered display of death.  It looked like they had fallen out from somewhere, their bodies twisted and guts spilling out and glass everywhere.  Had they been thrown out of a window?  Or had they found their own way out? The door across from the dead had a plate reading Prison Block and the doors had been boarded up.  The most opportune way out for some of them, I suppose.  I located another open area in the fence, a few pallets stacked to give a clear step up over the sharp edge.  A bolt streaked across the sky illuminating the immediate area, but below the light could not reach but for the thin tree limbs reaching high. Before I risked getting lost in that lower area, I returned to where the gate entered the patio space, and took the path that had been open on my left.  It was a large area beneath an eve, where I could get some time away from the storm.  A few old drums, possibly gasoline like the ones in basement, had been discarded here.  The walls had tall, thin windows cloaked by tattered curtains, I could make out no sign of cracks of wear to indicate anyone might have tried to escape this way.  Bags of trash had been discarded by a large dumpster, and before it stood a man in a straightjacket struggling to get out. The dumpster, after the stagnant decay that had been shoved into my sinuses, smelled wonderful in the cold storm.  But the linger of rot was here, and blood had pooled at the patients feet. “Bleed for me.” It was time to leave. I climbed the pallets and braced myself for the fall before I let myself down, the soft earth compressed under my weight, but the jolt still traveled up my ribs.  I stepped away grunting and stretching to get the soreness from my muscles, I was moving through the tall grass before I had my camera up. The front grounds had really been let go, but this was beyond neglect.  Thick bushes grew everywhere catching my pants and whacking my fingers as I navigated what seemed to be the clearest path, but everything was overgrown.  The grass was up to my chest, and large concrete blocks dotted the yard, hidden until I was directly upon them.  A thin vapor spilled from them, maybe from the lower levels of the Asylum, the basement?  I turned my camera to examine the interior and found thick metal bars, and a warm draft that lifted from within. I’m sure the yard might have been open to the better behaved patients during good days, but when Murkoff took over the patients never had ‘field’ days.  They only needed to keep the front lawn looking decent for appearances, and let everything else go to hell.  There were even pallets and large propane tanks stacked along the wall.  Even for an asylum, this place must have looked nice when things were kept neat.  But Mount Massive was shut down for scandal, so there was no telling if this place ever had ‘nice days.’ The grass began to thin out as I neared a small pool of water in the middle of the yard, with a charming little bridge built over it.  Large stones had been set to boarder the small pound, but even in the dark I could identify the thick grime that grew along the waters edges.  If not for the rain cloaking the miasma of still water, I imagined it wouldn’t be all that lovely. Labored breathing pressed through the drone of rain, alerting me to duck down or be seen.  There was no guarantee I wouldn’t be seen.  A blaze of lightning followed threatening to reveal my location out of spite, and in it I saw the shape of the big fucker as he wandered the yard.  It would’ve been too good if he didn’t show up.  I knew something was wrong. Without hitch he continued on his way, pausing to glance over his shoulder as I paced through the water gently.  It wasn’t very deep, but he would pick out the odd sound given the contrast to the persistent shower.  I paused with the bridge between us, the big fucker looked in the other direction and began that way.  I breathed out a soft whine, even as the sky lit up with another blaze.  The big fuckers back was still to me, I was safe for now. I checked the camera as the light dimmed.  Another battery went in, my last one, a full one.  I had no idea how much further I had to go out here, but for the time I needed to see. There was no indication of where to go, but for some light up at the top of a stack of pallets and propane tanks.  Chris couldn’t climb after me, he could fall after me, but he was a shit climber.  At least, he’s never jumped up after me, yet.  For all I knew he could fly. As quietly as I could muster, I sprint over to the stack and pulled myself up.  I heard no sound from the big guy, he must still be enjoying the weather.  I slipped up to the high ledge, another one of those tall thin windows greeted me, but of escape there was no evidence.  I wasn’t too keen on going into the Prison Block anyway.   A small rain trail led along the wall to the left.  The water wasn’t washing over it quite so hard, but I had to take the awkward angle with my camera again to keep from losing my balance.  I’d prefer to put my camera away and not risk dropping it, but it was more disorientating being unable to see where my feet were and the wall pressed into my back. I passed over a fence topped with coiled barbed wire and came to another sharp corner, on the edge of the building.  Rather repeat my earlier slip, I stuffed the camera in its pack and carefully lowered myself sideways.  Little by little in the dark, until my right hand touched the ledge.  I made sure I had my hand on it before I pivoted, and dropped, snapping my left hand onto the edge as well, and let my weight settle on my arms.  A small grunt snapped from my throat as my ribs sang in pain, but I wasn’t falling backwards this time.  I strafed along the wall, turning the corner easily and kept going until I felt the path at my hands end. I pulled the camera free and checked what was under me.  Just the floor, it was a distance from my feet but not far enough to break my legs.  I let myself drop and turned, wary of my surroundings and what may be lurking.  The sky blazed causing me to cringe down, in the resulting flare I thought there were shapes closing in but through the visor I saw nothing too hostile.  Nothing alive at any rate. There was a small gazebo near the center of the yard, with steps leading up to it.  The aged wood creaked underfoot as I moved around the center, benches were situated around a small garden area full of black dirt and twigs, at one point it was probably filled with flowers or a hedge.  What looked like a doctor was laying on one bench, his coat tinged with dampness and his back to me.  I didn’t bother with the body and kept moving.  I crossed over and crept down the steps, back into the tall grass and into the dismal rain. Overhead twigs crackled and fell, I crouched low scanning the lens along but couldn’t locate the cause.  It could have been the limbs heavy with water after a long drought, they sometimes snapped during a heavy rainfall, but that seemed like such a pissy excuse.  I wiped the water from my face and cringed at the sensation of my missing finger, I was not getting used to that any time soon.  I picked myself up and continued, slowly as I listened for more movement, my camera scanning the dark sky as lightning flared.  It seemed to have moved off for now, if there was ever anything there.  Maybe I was just as cuckoo as the patients, and seeing things in the dark.  Suggestion was a powerful tool. There was nothing to guide me, no remarkable land marks that I could identify aside from the gazebo.  The stone paths were so overgrown with weeds, it was impossible to distinguish them from the tall grass.  I just kept going, relying on the fence that surrounded this area to direct my way.  Maybe I’d find a place where patients had escaped from.  Or maybe they already had, there was the break in the fence I first came through, that led to the open window.  Wasn’t there a document that referred to them as ‘environmental contamination?’  It still sounded wrong. It seemed to take an hour or almost to get around the yard, stopping every so often at shapes in the visor, static in the camera, sounds in the woods.  Not animal sounds, but the strange chatter and wail of the thing I could not describe.  Lurking somewhere and watching me clearly as I staggered through the unforgiving foliage.  At some point I did find my way around, into an area I thought led into the woods, but instead a patient was staring back at me from a cobblestone path.  It startled me, and I staggered away. I knew my hands were bleeding again but I couldn’t bear to turn the camera and view the damage.  My blood felt as thin and cold as the rain, but I’m certain it was my blood.  It had a differing consistency than to water streaming over my skin, but I refused to check. Finally, at long last I spotted a light source.  I could hardly believe it but I moved towards it, my battery was getting low and I couldn’t be stumbling blindly around in the dark.  The harsh brush tore at my shoulders and hands as I made my way towards what looked like a wall, or walls on either side topped with chain wire fence.  A set of steps led down into a lower area, maybe another basement.  There was evidence to indicate this as a possibility but I doubted it.  I didn’t care where the stairs led either, I just needed the reassurance of a firm direction.  The sky blazed with a wild flash, blinding me momentarily before I saw a pair of eyes glimmer in the dark. Shit!   I spun away racing back along the fence as Chris gave a howl of rage, initiating the chase.  Where had he come from?  Was that a gate to the connecting yard?  I didn’t care to know, my concentration was absorbed in not buckling under my terror.  Branches slashed at my torn fingers in my frenzied escape, it sounded as though he was close behind me.  I turned my head to check, running right into a tree that knocked me down and slapped the camera from my loose grip. “You got nothing left to live for.”  He was right on top of me.  Where was my camera? The tall grass had hid the bright visor, but not well enough.  I snatched it up as the big fucker came crashing into my vicinity, the chains clinked very close to my face in what might’ve been a grab attempt.  I lunged just out of his path and saw, in a beam of lightning the gazebo.  He can’t climb!  He can’t climb!   I was just beyond his reach as I clambered up the rail and flopped over the side, I groaned as my ribs pulsed with pain but it bought me a moment.  He shoved his arm through the gaps in the rail, but the chain caught on the rotten boards preventing him from grabbing my scalp as I lay stunned.  But I wasn’t safe yet.  With a nasally snarl, Chris charged around toward the steps.  I lifted my camera and watched through the NV feed as he set his dead gaze on me. I rolled to my feet, and threw myself over the rail to sprint in the direction I thought that light had been.  Chris swung himself over the rail, I know this because I felt the ground tremble when he came down.  I kept on my feet locating the steps and shot down them, taking the corner on my right and stumbled down more steps and nearly toppled forward.  The deep rumble of the big fucker echoed on the confining walls, he would be on me in the next instant. At the corridors end was what looked like a wall, its appearance draining the remainder of my blood… until I caught sight of the lower side.  The cement had been chiseled out and rebar ripped back.  I knelt down and crawled through, as Chris gave his disapproving roar at my neck.  I hadn’t stopped yet to flaunt it, I was on my toes running up the narrow corridor back into the storm.  An open and better kept yard greeted me at the top of the slop, but I didn’t stop to admire it.   Across the yard a large set of double doors waited, boarded tightly with planks and plywood, tall glass framed the sides spilling comforting light onto the grass.  I still raced into them and tried the handle, confirming this was not for show.  The plate beside the door read Female Ward, though I wasn’t sure of this.  I knew there were female patients involved with MKULTRA and the sleep therapy, but it wasn’t clear to me if they were involved with Project Walrider. It was asking too much that I would never find out.  But due to the wandering patients and contamination, I think I should have seen women by now.  Or… could I not recognize them as being female?  My head ached from the revelation, I needed to get out of the rain.  I was borderline hypothermia, I had to get dry. If I couldn’t find my way out of this yard soon, I didn’t doubt the big fucker would find his way to me.  I walked along the fence that stretched from the building, and found an opening into another yard.  A fountain sat in the center surrounded by benches, the strong stench of copper from it overpowered the open air.  I had turned the NV off, but the camera was still running, it always was.  I stared at the garden piece full of blood, so much I couldn’t be sure if there ever was water in it to begin with.  The heavy rain drops hit the surface, but the thick black clots held tight.  I immediately felt sick and took a moment to sit down at a bench, off to the side. “So much blood in the water I can smell it.  Like putting a penny in your mouth when you were a kid.  The whispers are making more sense, I’m looking for static.  It’s like an itch.” I stuffed the pen and notepad back in my pocket, and stood to resume the search of the lawn.  Some fresh air would help, put some distance between this grotesque red pool, and myself.  Get it off my mind if only for a second. Steep hills lead up to high fences and what must have been the brick walls of the outer courtyards, polished and slick with rain and higher than the Tower of Babel.  Was there no way out of this place?  Did the world outside cease to exist? Stupid thoughts.  Miles, you idiot.  Keep it together, I’m gonna make it out of this.  Just takes time.  Stay alive, and find that way out. I returned to the fountain.  Bodies bled out, in all manners of decay, on this side the wind picked up enough to give me a whisper of the spoil that seeped from the corpses.  A still functioning lamp spilled light on the poisoned well.  I didn’t feel safe standing in the open like this.  But I turned the camera anyway to sounds in the trees overhead, and the odd outline of something at the roof.  Or was it another of Murkoff, ready to end it all and escape this hell? I walked along the wall of the building to get out of the rain for a moment.  Stacks of pallets had been neglected here, like much of all Murkoff’s tools, as its people.  The light above reflected off glass, but one window failed to cast its sheen.  I jogged over and examined it from the ground, before I hauled myself up the precarious stack of pallets to the high window. That sickening-familiar scent of old moldering wood, rank dust, and the trace of sweet humid rot swept over me as I entered through the shattered frame.  The new reek of scorched, sodden wood saturated the air.  At the edges of the NV I could catch glimpses of walls tinged in charcoal, where the fire had reached forth to spread. Damn it, how did this happen?  Like a tar pit, the more I fought the harder I stick. There was nothing on my left, just glassed in walls around some office or lobby.  Thinking on it, that might be the barred entrance of the Female Ward.  The dust within was thick enough I could view it settling over a neglected wheelchair, tipped sideways.  It was a depressing sight.  I turned to my right, clinging to the lamps outside the windows to offer some guidance as I shut off the NV for a short while.  I was ready to raise it if something caught my attention, or if that haunting wail returned.  I shivered as a light pierced through collapsed beams, slanted across my path.  I looked up to what must’ve been an upper floor and its doorway before the fire spread, all of it black charcoal and some of it cinder now.  Steam was still rising from some of the white ash of the timber causing the air to fog thickly, but the light cut through blinding me briefly. It was Father Martin, nested in a doorframe of the second floor, flashing his light to signal me.  This was getting old. “You saw the Walrider, didn’t you?”  He gave pause as I moved closer, presumably into his line of sight.  I adjusted my collar ready to cover my nose with it, but postponed the action to glance around and turn my gaze back up to him.  I tilt my head, only vaguely interested in what he had to preach.  “You’re beginning to understand, but not yet.”  He gestured his finger upward, dramatically.  “Even Abraham had to cast his eyes to the ground.  But soon, soon.  This way.  Revelation is at hand.”  With his speech concluded, he spun away and disappeared beyond the gate. Okay, thanks.  How was I supposed to get up there?

weird asks that say a lot

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? All of them. I drink tea in coffee mugs and teacups. I love drinking wine. I like that I can recycle soda cans

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? chocolate

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? bubblegum if the flavor lasts long

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? the stereotypical quiet, obedient, smart, goody-two-shoes kid

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? somehow I like the aesthetic from soda bottles

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? hONESTLY I can dO ALL OF THE ABOVE in the span of days. Went to work one day wearing beach-y clothes for spirit day. Returned to pick up a friend to go see a metal concert in VERY metal concert attire. I own short, sweet summery floral dresses and gothic dresses, too

7. earbuds or headphones? Earbuds, they allow me to be more mobile

8. movies or tv shows? movies

9. favorite smell in the summer? Fresh cut grass. The smell of the ocean. Churros at the fair

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Soccer, obvs. Somehow would always last until the end of the game in dodgeball tho because I was small and no one could hit me

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Cereal

12. name of your favorite playlist? Don’t have one. 

13. lanyard or key ring?  Key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Smarties!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? I remember re-reading Holes over and over just to make my book reports easier since I knew the boo so well. The Kite Runner was phenomenal and unforgettable

16. most comfortable position to sit in? idk?? I really can’t sit still in one position for too long

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? Currently my hiking/outdoorsy shoes. Also my black Nikes that I play pickup in and wear to the gym

18. ideal weather? Sunny and 65. Maybe one or two clouds. The tiniest of faint breezes to cool me down. 

19. sleeping position? Any I can get into and fall asleep in quickly

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Laptop. I can edit easier.

21. obsession from childhood? Probably any cheesy show on Animal Planet. The Most Extreme, Meerkat Manor, Big Cat Diary, etc

22. role model? I have a lot of different ones. Role models for athletics, role models for career and ambition choices, artistic role models...can’t pick just one

23. strange habits? Spelling words with the tips of my fingers

24. favorite crystal? Aquamarine

25. first song you remember hearing? how in the FUCK am I supposed to remember that. I do remember my parents playing The Beatles for me when I was a toddler

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Soccer! (futbol) 

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Sledding, making hot chocolate, or playing indoor soccer haha

28. five songs to describe you? Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been by Relient K, Proud by the Icarus Account, Land of the Dead by Voltaire, Always Leaving by Mayday Parade, Wavin’ Flag by K’naan

29. best way to bond with you? Listening to my favorite music with me or watching the US Women’s national soccer team with me

30. places that you find sacred? Belfast, Maine. Gold Camp Road. Newport Beach

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Tight jeans with holes in them, fishnets, and a crop top

32. top five favorite vines? Vines still exist?

33. most used phrase in your phone? “tbh”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? O O O O REILLYYYYYY’S autoparts

35. average time you fall asleep? around 9

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? I don’t remember

37. suitcase or duffel bag? suitcase

38. lemonade or tea? Is it warm outside? Lemonade. Is it cold outside? tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? PIE!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Zombie hunting or my professor cutting lab a half an hour short to go look at some Cedar waxwings

41. last person you texted? I think it was Robert

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Pants pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? Jean jacket

44. favorite scent for soap? Anything fruity

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? Fantasy. It depends on how good the sci-fi movie is

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? as little as possible lmao

47. favorite type of cheese? Parmesan

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? A raspberry

49. what saying or quote do you live by? A great amount of good is always evened out by a great amount of bad

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? Honestly Daniel knew how to make me laugh better than anyone. There are a couple of memories with him that I don’t remember entirely but I know that I ended up cry-laughing so hard that my head hurt. There was a time during my orientation camping trip when a bunch of us were playing ultimate Frisbee, and Jesse went to catch the frisbee in the most perfectly lateral horizontal position and the expression of focus just frozen on his face had me laughing so hard that I couldn’t see

51. current stresses? Sam. Jobs that I can apply for starting in May of 2020. Sam. STUDENT LOANS. Bills. Car payments. Wondering how fucked up my car has gotten since I’ve lived here on this ranch. Sam. 

52. favorite font? Anything that looks fancy and sarcastic

53. what is the current state of your hands? Need to be washed. 

54. what did you learn from your first job? The world is cruel and bad things happen without warning

55. favorite fairy tale? Uh....the Pied Piper?

56. favorite tradition? when my family visits for Christmas, eating lots of traditional Chinese food with them

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? Heartbreak. Staggering rejection from the field I majored in. Probably a lot of body image struggles in there as well

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Writing, futbol, adaptability, flexibility. I think the last two are just traits but I don’t have a lot of talents I can invest in

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? Let’s make like a baby and head out

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? No idea

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Though we are far apart, our spirits share the same earth and the same sky

62. seven characters you relate to? Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit, Data from The Goonies, Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter, Eliza Thornberry from The Wild Thornberries, Raven from Teen Titans, Isaac from Teen Wolf

63. five songs that would play in your club? ANYTHING by Within Temptation. I wouldn’t be a good club owner. The catchy and pump-up songs from Hamilton.

64. favorite website from your childhood? Wasn’t allowed much computer time. I was allowed to visit educational sites and occasionally the Disney site

65. any permanent scars? some self-harm scars. Probably the one on my right leg that I got from CO parks and wildlife. I stepped on a barbed wire fence that had been plastered to the ground, but the metal sprang up when I stepped on it and ripped through my skin

66. favorite flower(s)? Plumerias

67. good luck charms? I’m not sure if I have any. 

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? earthworm flavor from Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? uh...Something about not being able to spray silly string on Halloween in Hollywood

70. left or right handed? Right handed

71. least favorite pattern? wtf

72. worst subject? anything math related, I really struggled in GIS.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? I...have no idea

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? 2. I’m a baby

75. when did you lose your first tooth? I was 6

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? chips and fries

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? a succulent

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? sushi from a grocery store, the quality can surprise you

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? Both are terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? I hate bugs

82. pc or console? PC

83. writing or drawing? Writing, I’m terrible at drawing

84. podcasts or talk radio? Not into either

84. barbie or polly pocket? I had both

85. fairy tales or mythology? God!!!! Like hearing about both but mythology I guess

86. cookies or cupcakes? Cookies

87. your greatest fear? Being forgotten. I also have a terrible, horrible fear of drowning

88. your greatest wish? In the times I’ve struggled I often find myself wishing for peace. Not only for myself, but for others to easily feel peace with everyone else

89. who would you put before everyone else? Sierra

90. luckiest mistake? Mistake? There’s been lucky accidents but I don’t think any of my mistakes have been lucky

91. boxes or bags? It depends on what I’m packing and where I’m going

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight

93. nicknames? T, Tear, Tear-tear, T-Dog, Miss T..a few of my recent favorites from soccer: Ronaldinha and Thierry Chun

94. favorite season? Fall! Shit, especially in New England

95. favorite app on your phone? I don’t know

96. desktop background? A picture of a simple dock leading out to sea

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? My parents’ and brother’s

98. favorite historical era? Victorian era, for sure

The Past Brings a Present Part Three (Finale)

This is for @multi-villain-imagines challenge! 

I took the prompt: Catching up: We all have that one person, from the past we rather not meet again. But what happens if we do?

I did not go very heavy on the AU, really the only thing different is Negan’s past and we are in A/B/O territory.

Words: 3k

  Part 3 of 3

Warnings: Violence, Smut,  A/B/O

Words: 4K

Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323 @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan-is-god @kellyn1604 @i-am-negan-trash @roschelesworld @taintedgenre @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @purplemuse89 @blondesouthsquad @enchantingoblivion @jmackie1983 @jasoncrouse @theonethatgotaway213 @negans-network @heroicvillainy @louis-t0mlinson @autumnjade22 

Once the laughing fit came to an end a sadness overtook you.  You set up your nest, but even that act didn’t distract you from the ache in your heart.  Tears didn’t fall, but you had spent so long trying to survive you didn’t have the time to focus on the loved ones you lost.  It ranged from your parents to childhood friends you hadn’t seen in years.  

Most people moved on with their lives, especially the other Omegas you knew, your parents were getting worried you would never find a mate.  Memories of your mother threatening an arranged pairing and secretly wishing for anything to stop that.  Of course in your wildest dreams you never thought the dead rising would be the answer to that.  

You pushed the past out of your mind and tried to concentrate on the present.  You’d been at this strange place for less than twenty-four hours, sold to an Alpha who had multiple times to take you, punish you, hurt you, but instead he was gentle.  

Your lips twitched, imagining the way he grinned at you when you parted.  There was no doubt you were trying your hardest to be defiant, going as far as slapping the man and throwing food at him.  That sort of behavior was unacceptable for an Omega.  If Negan was that sort of Alpha maybe the two of you were meant for each other.  The twitch turned into a complete smile, your heart rate increasing. Maybe being kidnapped wouldn’t be the worse thing that happened to you, maybe it was the best.  

The smile faded when you remembered how your ordeal ended.  You were bought and paid for, no matter how charming Negan was nothing would change that.  He was just like any other Alpha, seeing Omegas as nothing more than property.  The fullness in your heart cracked and the sadness returned.  

With a sigh you went back to arranging your nest.  Biology was a bitch and you accepted eventually you would invite Negan to join you. He would claim and breed you.  Maybe the two of you would get lucky enough to die of old age with a litter of children at your bedside, but you knew exactly what you were worth to him.  Fifteen guns, weapons, food, and water.  That was your literal worth to the man.  

The sun was setting and you knew your nest would never get any more perfect than it was now.  With a sigh you left the bed and walked towards the windows.  There was nothing to see except the tree tops and the sprawling grounds surrounded with the thick fence.  Some people were on the lawn and you wondered if they would be your friends someday.  That made your heart ache even more, again being too scared and focused on survival to realize how lonely you were.  

The elevator dinged open and you whipped your head to see Negan walk out.  It was a shame that he didn’t find you under different circumstances, maybe then you would have given him a real chance.

“We got to make this quick Baby Doll.”  He sped walked towards you, with a pile in his hands. “Put these on.”

He set the stack of clothes in your hands, they reeked of his scent.  It was almost heavenly.  

“We’re taking a little field trip.”  He put his hand behind your back and gently pushed you towards the bathroom. “Hurry.”

You accepted escape wasn’t an option, but as soon as he mentioned leaving your mind went right to it.  You sprinted towards the bathroom, not bothering to close the door all the way as you stripped off the dress and stepped into the pants.  There was a belt with them and you adjusted it to your size as you pulled the white t-shirt over your head.  There was a leather jacket that you slipped your arms into, covering the fact you were missing a bra.  

The pants were too long, but you shuffled back out into the room.  Negan was waiting for you and placed his hands on your shoulders before pulling out a red bandana.

“Don’t get any funny ideas.”  He put the bandana on the top of your head and tied it under your hair, pulling the knot tight and smoothing out the fabric over your head. “Be a good girl for me tonight.”

His words sent chills down your spine, then his hand grabbed yours and started walking you towards the elevator.   Your heart raced as the doors shut and you started your descent.

“No shoes?” You pointed to your bare feet.

“I don’t trust you not to run.” Negan raised an eyebrow and looked at you. “You’re not leaving my side.  Do you understand?”

You nodded and leaned down, rolling up the pant legs until they were at your ankle.  No matter what the man said you were determined to look for an opening.  That was the best you could do at the moment and knew if you focused on the idea too much you might face second thoughts, so you directed your mind elsewhere.  As your eyes scanned the Alpha’s body you chuckled.

“Something funny sweetheart?” He grinned at you.

“We’re dressed alike.”  The only difference was the red bandana was around his neck.

“A man needs a uniform to make a statement.  People respect a uniform.”  Negan cracked his neck. “And you need to smell like your Alpha.”

His words made your cheeks flush and you looked down, trying your hardest to ignore your racing pulse.  

“If anyone makes you uncomfortable, even looks at you in a way you don’t like, you let me know.”  The doors dinged open and Negan grabbed your hand again, practically yanking you out of the elevator.

You let him pull you and tried to get a look at the surroundings again, but he was walking too fast.  When he went straight to the outside your eyes went wide.  This was even better, if you left his compound there would be a better chance at getting away.  

A truck was parked out front and Negan walked around to the passenger’s side. He opened the door and you climbed inside.

“Child safety lock.”  He pointed to the black peg and pushed it down before slamming the door.

Jumping out of the car would have been a stupid option anyway.  You shut your eyes and inhale deep, the cab and clothing overpowering you with his scent, and damn did it smell good.  He climbed in the driver’s side door and put the car in drive, not saying a word as the gates opened and you left his Sanctuary.  

“Alright little girl, you’re going to see somethings tonight that might disturb you, but I believe that it’s necessary for you to at least get the gist.”  Negan didn’t look away from the road.  “If you don’t think you can handle it retreat is not an option. Understand?”

“Yes.” The last image of the sun vanished and you smiled.  Nighttime would make it easier to run.

“Repeat the rules to me.”  Negan turned off the main road.  

“Don’t try to run, let you know if someone is making me uncomfortable, and retreat is not an option.”  You planned on ignoring them all, especially the first.

“If anyone, regardless of what side they’re on, looks at your like prey they will be on the receiving end of Lucille.” Negan gripped the steering wheel harder, you saw his knuckles turning white.

“Lucille?” You didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You’re going to meet her tonight.” A big grin spread across his face. “She is very thirsty.”

You almost asked if he was talking about a vampire, but stopped yourself.  It sounded stupid, but with the Dead roaming the Earth nothing seemed that far fetched anymore.  

Negan turned again and you started down a dirt road.  There were lights up ahead and you leaned forward, not understanding the scene in front of you.  His car rolled to a stop and he flipped on the brights, not turning off the vehicle.  

Without another word he got out of the truck.  You heard him pick something out of the bed, but still tried to figure out what was in front of you.  All you could see was a semi-circle of other cars, their trunks all facing you.  The door opened and your concentration broke.  

“There’s a good chance you might think you hate me after this, but trust me, it’s for your own good.”  Negan held his hand out.  

A shiver went through you, suddenly scared of what was on the other side of those cars.  You scrunched your brow as you looked at his hand.  Now the idea of escape seemed secondary, maybe you should have been more scared about what he had in mind.

“Limited on time Doll.”  He reached out and grabbed your wrist, bending down and flipping you over his shoulder as he lifted you out of the car.  

You hung upside down and saw the silhouettes of people in the headlights of the other vehicles.  What the fuck was going on?  Was this some sort of Alpha show?  Was he about to mate you in front of a crowd?  You let out a whimper at the thought.

“Don’t forget to breath Baby.”  Negan’s hand was around your thighs. “It will be over soon.”

“No.” You let out a sob. “Please don’t.”

You started to wiggle against his shoulder, trying to slide off, but his grip was too tight.

“Be good.”  He squeezed you tighter.  

Panic filled you as you glanced to your left, wondering if you could smack him in the head.  Then you saw what was slung over his other shoulder: a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.  For such a simple weapon it made you shriek.  

There was a shuffle and you knew heads were turning towards you.  With all your strength you lifted your stomach, arching your back and trying to stand up in his arms.  

“Don’t worry boys!” Negan yelled. “My Omega just saw Lucille for the first time.  Women always get a little jealous of each other.”

Negan dropped down, setting you on your bare feet.  You were facing the opposite direction from him and the vision was more than you can take.  At least ten men were standing on the cars with their weapons drawn, all looking like they were pointed right at you.  The image frightened you into silence, unsure what to do, but the forest wasn’t still.  You heard other people sobbing.  Then you noticed, nobody with a weapon drawn was looking at you.

Negan gripped your shoulder and spun you around. The fear was so heavy it took a moment to adjust, then you noticed seven people on their knees.  Each of them had a person gripping on to their collars, keeping them in place.  

“Oh how rude of me.  You all know Meg here, as you affectionately called her.” Negan kissed you on the head before lifting the bat. “Don’t worry, by the end of the night you will be even more familiar with Lucille.”

~~~

“You bought me.”

Negan recognized the deep pain in your eyes as soon as you said the words to him.  He left right then, knowing he had to prove you wrong.  

Every bit of logic told him not to bring you tonight, that you were an Omega, couldn’t handle this level of violence.  But you were different. He recognized that and the only way the two of you could start a life together was with blunt honesty.  He was happy Simon left with the search party since the other Alpha would have attempted to talk him out of it.

Your shaking form next to him was causing him doubts, but there was no way he would let that show in front of his men.  

“Sharkey…we’re cool.”  Reggie’s face was covered in tears. “We have a past brother.”

“The name is Negan.”  He was hesitant to let you go, but he needed to make a scene and you were too scared to try and run at the moment.  “And it’s a new world.  Nobody has a past anymore.”

He slid his arm off of your shoulders and started walking the line up, making sure to swing Lucille with each step.

“Instead of building a better future you people want to live in the Stone Age.” Negan stopped in front of one of them and shoved the end of Lucille in her face. “Kidnapping Omegas, almost killing them, and then thinking you can sell them.  Nobody is for sale in my future.”

“Shar…Negan, please.”  Reggie looked up. “We’re just trying to survive.”

“At the expense of the little people?”  Negan stalked towards him. Lucille went under his chin and Negan pulled up hard, making sure one of her wires went into Reggie’s chin. “No.  You’re trying to exploit. And with MY OMEGA.”

Negan glanced behind him, you were in the same place, your eyes glued to Reggie.  He gave you a wink and he thought he saw a smile.  It vanished right away, maybe even in his head, but it filled him with purpose again.

He yanked Lucille away from Reggie’s chin, causing a little blood splatter but nothing that would seriously harm the man.  

“You’re all going to die tonight.” Negan continued to walk. “I don’t want scum like you alive in my future.”

“But we told you where the other Omegas are!” A Beta female in the line up cried.

“And I’ve sent teams to check on them with pretty strong instructions.” Negan grinned at the woman, disappointed in her the most. “You disgust me, not an ounce of sympathy for your own gender.”

“Meg would have died in that attack eventually if we hadn’t found her,” Reggie yelled. “We saved her!  All the other Omega’s are with good Alphas too.”

“You sold her to a man you knew as a pimp.” Negan raged. “A real humanitarian. And that’s not her name.  Darling you want to enlighten them?”

He held his free arm back towards you.  There was no response, but he looked back at you.  He half expected a shaking girl, but instead you had your shoulders rolled back, chin held high, and pure rage in your eyes.

“MMmmm MMM!” He had to pull his eyes away. “I think my Omega is eager to get to the end of the show, but I’ll tell you what.  I’m going to leave one of you alive.  I need you to spread to word, what happened here tonight.  What will happen again if ANYONE ANYWHERE EVER TRIES TO SELL ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!”

All of them started screaming and begging at the same time, just as he expected.  They weren’t a team. Only a bunch of low-lives who banded together.  

“Normally, I like to play a little game to pick the big winner, but I’m not in the mood.”  Negan pulled Lucille back and walked towards you.  “Light em up.”

He heard the gun fire simultaneously, the six members of Reggie’s team taking a bullet in the head.  A smile spread across his face as he reached you, sliding his hand around your shoulder and leaning Lucille in between the two of you.

Reggie was shaking, looking at the dead bodies on all sides of him.  

“I told you I didn’t buy you.” Negan leaned his face next to your ear and breathed in.  

Your scents were mingled together with his clothing, but it was wearing off.  Between that and the gunfire he needed to get you out of here before Roamers showed up.  Before he pulled away you turned to look up at him.  There was genuine happiness in your eyes and it stilled Negan.  Everything you did surprised him.

Then you went up on your tiptoes and placed your lips on his.  Electricity flowed through him with the small peck.  It couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds, but it stunned him all the same.  Enough that he didn’t notice you steal Lucille away.  

He looked up as you brought her over your shoulder, swinging down as hard as you could straight into Reggie’s skull.

“Fuck….you.”  Reggie got the words out as you yanked Lucille out of his head.  

“That’s not my name.”  You stood in front of the man as he crumbled to the ground.

All of the Saviors were quiet.  Most of them thinking you had disobeyed an order, but Negan had never been more proud.

“I stand corrected.”  He walked forward and put his arm around you again. “It looks like my ladies are going to get along just fine.”

~~~

The drive back was quiet.  You didn’t have anything to say. You were raised on the cliché ‘actions speak louder than words’.  It appeared Negan had the same philosophy.  He really was your Alpha and you intended to show him.  

When you arrived through the gates he killed the engine and turned to look at you.  

“Was that your first kill?” There was concern in his eyes.

You glared at him, not trying to hide the lust that flowed off of you.  It certainly wasn’t your heat, because you were too in control of the desire.  He gulped and nodded.  

“Look Baby Doll…”

“It’s Y/N.”. You reached out and grabbed his leather jacket, then pulled him close to you, slamming your lips against his.  

Both of you parted your mouth at the same time and your tongues fought against each other for dominance, causing the slick between your legs to gush even more.  Negan let out a growl and pulled you out of your seat on top of him.  You straddled him as his hands moved to your back.  There was no time to waste as you started to rock against him, giving you no doubt his cock was even larger than his personality.  

One of his hands vanished and the door to the truck opened.  He lifted you out of the cab as you wrapped your legs around his waist, not breaking the kiss as he ran inside.  You paid no attention to anything expect the kiss and moving your body, never having felt desire like this before.  

“Do you need your nest?”  Negan broke from the kiss and you started attacking his neck.

“It’s not my heat.”  You managed to get out as you took in the saltiness of his skin.  

“Oh yes it is.”  He grabbed your hair and tilted your head back. “It’s coming on hard.”

Your chest heaved, so hungry for the Alpha.  You locked eyes with him and let out a moan.  Your head clouded, just needing his cock inside of you, wanting to feel the knot.  Then you felt the fire in your body.  Negan was your Alpha, he knew you better than you knew yourself.  

The nest you made just for him was too tempting.  You nodded your head and he went for the elevator.  Pinning you against the doors and almost falling inside as they opened.  He set you down and you wasted no time stripping off your jacket before pulling his down.  He turned the key as you pulled his white t-shirt over his head.  

Then his lips were on yours again and the heat between your legs grew more powerful.  You tried to clench your thighs together, but it gave you no relief.  Negan kicked off his shoes and then started on his belt.  You wanted to fill his bare skin against yours and were naked in seconds, glad for the lack of undergarments.  

The two of you continued to kiss as you pushed your breasts against his chest, he felt so right it made you whine.  Finally he pushed down his boxers and joined you in your nudity.  

“Don’t worry Omega.  We’re almost there.”  He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up again.  

“Please.”  You tried to kiss him again, but you could feel his rock hard cock underneath you, upset he hadn’t speared you already.  

He responded by bouncing you upwards so your chest was leave with his mouth.  He brought one nipple into his mouth and you through your head back with a gasp as he sucked in the tiny bud.  It made you squeal and try to pull away, not needing any foreplay, but his hand was on your back, keeping your tender pebble in his mouth.  

“I need you…” This was the longest elevator ride ever. “Need you inside me.”

A flush of heat spread through you.  The elevator dinged open and Negan’s teeth bit down, making you scream as he ran onto the floor.  

He practically flung you onto your nest, but didn’t come down with you.  He stood over you, his nude form causing your thighs to coat in more stickiness.  The Alpha was flawless, he was made for you.  

“Spread your legs for me Omega.”  He bit his lip and then ran his tongue out, making you shake.  

“Fuck me!”  You did as he asked.  

He ran his hand up your slit and stopped his fingers at your clit, then started rubbing.  You cried out and lifted your hips into his palm.  

“You’re the most beautiful sight in the universe Y/N.” Negan continued to rub as you rocked your hips against him.  

It didn’t take long for you to get into a rhythm and the spiral to form in your core.  You panted and moaned, needing the release that was at his fingertips.  The orgasm washed over you, causing sparks to shoot across your body, but the pleasure brought no satisfaction and you let out a cry as more of your wetness gathered between your legs.  

“Not enough.”  You reached for his shoulders, but he moved back.  

The passion and lust mixed with his motions caused your temper to flare.  

“What’s wrong little Omega?”  Negan’s eyes looked possessed.  

You knew what you needed and didn’t want to play a game.  

“It’s my job to build the nest.  It’s your job to fuck me in it.”  You turned onto your stomach and went up on your hands and knees, presenting yourself for him.  “Alpha. Your Omega needs you.”  

The bed dipped behind you and hands touched your hips, you arched your back even more, lifting your ass in the air.  

“Does my Omega have any other demands?”  Negan lined up at your entrance.  

“Knot me. Claim me.”  You tried to move yourself backwards, but he moved too.

A cry escaped your lips as your head dropped.  This was torture.  

“Such a bossy lady.”  Negan rubbed his tip on your entrance.  

“Please!”  You pressed your head to the pillow. “I’ll be your good girl.  Forever.”

With that he plunged inside of you.  There was no need to warm out as your cunt took in his gigantic cock.  The relief it brought could not be described as your body shook, needing him more than you needed oxygen.  

“What my good girl wants, my good girl gets.”  Negan pulled out almost all the way and started plowing into you.

You were screaming with pleasure, each thrust bringing you something more than any orgasm you’d ever felt before.  You clutched the blanket and bit down as he moved in and out of you.  As if each pump brought you to a higher pleasure he started shortening his thrusts.  

Instead of a coil forming in your stomach, one began for your entire body.  You tightened down, unsure how to handle the experience.  

“You’re taking your Alpha so well.”  Negan pushed into you and the base of his cock swelled.

Your body tightened even more, making you cry out and clench the blankets more. His knot grew inside of you, causing you to become all to aware of the relief it would bring.  Needing his pleasure you tried rocking against him.  He put pressure on your lower back, stilling you.

“This is your Alpha’s job.”  He leaned over your back, his head at your ear. “Be a good Omega and enjoy.”

You stopped moving and then his knot slid inside of you. The spiral inside of you Burt with euphoria as your Alpha exploded inside of you, locking you together.  Tears flowed as you could not comprehend the pleasure moving through your veins.  

Black dots covered your vision and your mind went to another place where the only thing that mattered was Negan.  If everyone else died but the two of you, you no longer cared.

A sharp pain exploded in your neck and you screamed, your arms shooting forward, as if they were capable of pulling away.  His teeth dug into you, leaving his claim.  Even with the pain you tilted your head welcoming it, knowing you would never want or need anyone but him again.  

Your body collapsed and he fell on top of you before turning you onto your side. A blanket was pulled over you as the two of you laid locked together, conscious vanishing.  

“You were never for sale.”  Negan kissed his claim making your body shake.  

His arm wrapped around you and you sunk into him.  There was no past anymore, just the future.  You looked forward to yours.

Seventy-five years after the liberation of Auschwitz, Jan. 27 is the International Holocaust Remembrance Day, when the world remembers and mourns the victims of the Holocaust.

Please take a moment to read the below guest article and pause for a moment today.

AUSCHWITZ — 75 Years Later Deception Continues

By Gary McCullough

  The whistle bellowed and the tracks creaked, as we slowed, then stopped.  Shaking from the cold, I knew my anxiety would soon pass.  Folded in my vest pocket was my future, my family’s future.  The deed to a dairy farm, complete with four cows.  We had sold most everything in order to secure our peace; to purchase this deed and the train tickets my wife, my two bundles-of-joy and I were now traveling on.

  We brought with us our remaining precious belongings, including my father’s watch, safely tucked in my suitcase.  Monica and Teresa each had their suitcases, stuffed with clothing, most of which their mother had hand-sewn, and assorted treasures my four and six-year-olds had stowed away.  Each held tightly a doll from their Aunt Olga.  My family was ready to start our new life.  Here, far from the war, far from the anger and bitterness that had come with the war.  Here in our new home in Oświęcim.

  …Life is so good here.  Just as they promised.  Not a free ride, but with work, comes freedom.  The winters, they are not so bad, not as they were back home.  Both Margaret and I, we do love it so…

  My beautiful wife was reading aloud the letter for the hundredth time.  A letter written by Ben, the grocer from our neighborhood.  He and his family had come to Oświęcim about this time last year.  Six months ago he had written this letter to his parents.  When word went about town that we would be leaving, Ben’s parents made a present of the letter.  Over and over she read it to the girls, to encourage them on the long trip, to encourage me as well I suppose.

  The doors strained open and the cold damp air flushed my face as I stepped on to the station platform.

  “Leave your suitcases on the platform. Mark your name, age, and nationality on your baggage.  To fail to do so will delay the return of your belongings.”  The announcement was made again in another, and then another language.

  I gathered my family and we walked with the others through a courtyard, then through an iron gate.  Across the gate in bold black painted iron letters “WORK BRINGS FREEDOM”.  A twenty-five-piece band was playing a familiar tune, one that my mother used to hum.  The cheery flower boxes looked strange next to the double-barbed wire fence.  Still it was all quite an unexpectedly comforting welcome.  A distinguished looking man in a physician’s smock approached our growing group and picked a few men and me, most all the young-and-healthy sort, for a chore he said.  Just for a few minutes, he said, then we would be back with our families.  Well, I have made it this far by getting along with everyone. “I’ll be back in a minute honey!”

  Walking away, I glanced back to see my wife and girls walking into the hospital building.  The building with a big red cross painted on it.  Some kind of disinfectant shower, someone mentioned.

  * * * * *

  Attention: “Everyone, the shower here is simple disinfectant, not to worry, it’s not too strong even for your youngest children.  Please remove your clothing and fold them in neat stacks.  Your co-operation is greatly appreciated.”

  * * * * *

  The other men and I walked down some steps, through a tunnel, then waited, and waited.  We were given uniforms and wooden clogs and told to wait in another line.  As I changed my clothes, I slipped the deed into the lining of my cap.  I would just feel more at ease knowing exactly where it was.  It represented years of scrimping and all our savings.

  Finally, we are going somewhere.  Down more steps, another tunnel.  I was impressed by the sturdy construction of the walls.  And in front of us now were two narrow gauge rail carts, small enough for one man to push empty.  We pushed the carts up to where the tracks came to a double wide steel door.  Locked at the moment.

  An official looking gentleman unlocked and swung open the doors.  Without warning my eyes flooded with tears and I dropped to my knees, a cloud of blue-gray haze escaped the through the doorway.  As my eyes adjusted and cleared, I was kicked in the back.  “Get up, to work now!”

  “Doing what?” I began to twist around only to be booted once more.  The other men from the train were as perplexed as I.  We stumbled into the room.  I tripped, as my eyes were still watering, and I landed on something soft, something warm.  It was some, some person, an old man, he was limp.  I looked up; no words came to my lips.  As in a dream as you step off a cliff, you try and yell, but no words come out.  No sound ever comes out.

  Another and another and another body, no blood, no wounds.   There was a young woman, younger than my wife.  Next to her, a baby boy, not a year old, still clutching a brightly painted toy car, as I looked at him, such a beautiful healthy boy, the toy escaped his tiny little grasp, his fingers slowly growing cold.  The vast room was filled with hundreds of naked bodies.  Some of them still hugging each other, others piled on one another. Each one still warm, yet not one breathing.  Who are these people!?  Who were these people!?  What happened?  I looked up, screaming at God, and recognized a round, cone shaped, shower head.

  * * * * *

  In 1992 I visited three death camps in Poland.  On the walls of a building in Stuthoff and several building in Auschwitz, hang the portraits of over a hundred of the millions of victims of the gas chambers.  At both death camps, you can gaze upon piles of shoes, thousands of pairs of shoes, in all sizes.  And literal bales of women’s hair, stacked like so many bales of hay.  And next to the hair-bales are bolts of fabric that had been manufactured from the hair shaved from the heads of thousands of dead, murdered young women.  And suitcases, piled to the ceiling, marked with white paint, the name, year of birth, and nationality of the owner.  Many of the suitcases were of children; five, six, and seven years old.  Another room was full of eyeglasses, the next, brushes and combs, the next room, stacked wall to wall, floor to ceiling, were prosthesis all every sort, legs and arms, and wheel-chairs and crutches.

  This collection, this shrine to “Never-Again,” displayed what was but a fraction of the booty gathered from the killing of millions of mothers, sisters and brothers, husbands and grandparents and children over the years we now call the Holocaust.  These were the items that had not yet been packaged for shipment.   These glasses, shoes, clothing, etc. were to be shipped to people in need, taken from useless non-persons, to go to the sustenance of the higher race.  A guard, would pick through the belongings of the still warm non-person for something to send home to his family; perhaps a needed pair of pants, or a Sunday’s-best dress that his bride would wear about town with him on his next leave, a pair of glasses that would be of use to his mother, she has needed a better pair for oh so long.

  Of all these exhibits screaming of man’s inhumanity toward man, one moved me to tears, a small pile of children’s toys.

  As our tour group exited the building, I approached our guide.  Why didn’t someone stop this?  Why didn’t the townspeople blow the place up?  Why didn’t our allied forces obliterate the death camps?

  Her response was one well thought out.  As a guide at Auschwitz for seven years, she is asked that most every day.  She stated, “Many people for years, much wiser than I, have debated that exact question.  Survivors of this camp have said they would have gladly given their lives to see this place destroyed and the killing stopped.  One thing that most all agree on though, is in regard to the three sets of railroad tracks coming to the camp.  They should have been destroyed.  They knew where the killing was being done.  They had the ability, and even if the tracks would have been rebuilt in a matter of days, thousands of lives would have been saved, thousands of lives!

  Immediately I responded, “You know, that’s what we do.”  Up to this point, she did not know that the entire group touring Auschwitz that day were part of a group in the USA called Operation Rescue.  I went on to explain to her, and to myself at the same time, that when we rescue, we take out the tracks.  We don’t destroy the clinic/death-camp, we don’t kill the butchers.  But for a short period of time we keep the non-persons/the babies, from getting to the death-camp.  We buy a little time for the innocent.

  Two weeks later, while hand-cuffed, from the back of a paddy-wagon,  I found myself preaching to nine of San Antonio’s Finest.  While these officers were arresting and carrying away one limp rescuer after another I began to tell them of my recent trip to the death-camps of Auschwitz, Birkenau and Stuthoff.

  Officer, did you know…

  At the Auschwitz death-camp:

  Many Jews, Poles and others believed going to Oświęcim was an investment in their future?

  At the San Antonio death-camp:

  Many women come here believing that this is an investment in their future.

The Cyclon-B nerve gas was delivered in train cars marked with the Red-Cross as medical

  The killing devices are sold and delivered, and even tax-deductible as medical equipment. A heart injection was sometimes used to terminate the non-person.

  A heart injection is sometimes used to terminate the baby. Many of the bodies were burned in crematoriums, at the death-camp.

  Many of the bodies are burned in crematoriums, at the death-camp. The availability of healthy, live bodies drew many researchers for experimentation and profit.

  The availability of healthy, live bodies draws many researchers for experimentation and profit. They disguised the gas-chambers as hospitals and medical clinics.

  They disguise the abortion-chambers as hospitals and medical clinics. The Nazis dressed up in the clothing of priests, and mocked God.

  Pro-abortion advocates dress up in the clothing of priests, and mock God. Gruesome experimentation was performed, often simply for the sick entertainment of so-called doctors.

  Gruesome experimentation is performed, often simply for the sick entertainment of so-called doctors. Body parts were used for decoration and jewelry.

  Body parts are used for decoration and jewelry. Many, because of their health condition, it was considered dignified and more humane to end their life.

  Many, because of their health condition, it is considered dignified and more humane to end their life. All that remains are the ashes of millions of innocent people.

  All that remains are the ashes of millions of innocent people. Most Christians purchased their freedom by co-existing with the killing.

  Most Christians purchase their freedom by co-existing with the killing. Only a small segment of the Church took a stand against the killing and they were easily dealt with.

  Only a small segment of the Church takes a stand against the killing and they are easily dealt with. Most of the world could not or would not believe that such a holocaust was happening.

  Most of the world cannot or will not believe that such a holocaust is happening. Judges, Police, Guards, all said they were just, doing their jobs.

  Judges, Police, Guards, all say they were just, doing their job. The Church said they were just obeying the law.

  The Church says they are just obeying the law.

  We have simply become more efficient in the disposing of our non-persons.  In part, the job is much easier today because the bodies are smaller and more easily disposed of.

  Then the paddy-wagon door shut and a truck load of Christian men finding themselves on their way to jail began to pray.

  Others prayed aloud, for the mother waiting to enter the soon to be opened clinic, for God to rescue the children who would be killed there that day.  Then it was my time, before God, to open my heart…

  Dear Lord, I remember how angry I was, and still am over that pile of children’s toys at Auschwitz.  How these harmless steps we were taking this morning don’t seem to be a match to the violent death awaiting our holocaust victims.

  How could even a brain-washed Nazi death-camp guard take a toy off the still warm body of a dead child and give it to his child?!  In that sentence, God answered my question with His question:

  “How is it that you, my son, washed by me, give your children toys taken from the children killed at the abortion death-camps?”

  My crushing anger was now, full weight on me.  How can this be, Lord?  I am about to go to jail…again.  I am doing all I know to do!

  “For each child that is killed; his toys will instead be enjoyed by your children.”

  Like it or not I have to face the fact that each day I find something more important to do than saving an unborn child’s life, I have chosen that my job, my comforts, my wife’s clothing and yes, even my children’s toys were more important than the life of an unborn child.

  There is no “feel-good” end to this story; no secret solution.  We have gone too far down the road to Auschwitz.  We have a thousand Dachaus, Treblinkas, and Auschwitz in America, advertising in the yellow pages.

  As the death-camps reared their ugly heads in World War II.  Some of America’s citizens recognized the threat and rose to the challenge.  They didn’t wait for our nation to enter the war, they went to Canada, enlisted, and went to fight Hitler and the Nazi War Machine.  However, most of the nation waited for an official declaration of war.

  But when war was declared, every able-bodied, clear thinking man entered the fight.  If a young man was not serving his country, his courage and manhood was called into question.  Men and women came from the countryside to the cities to work in the factories as part of the war effort.  Factories that produced automobiles and appliances re-tooled to make items needed to win a war.  Housewives conserved everything from nylons to rubber-bands to help beat the Nazis.  And still the ashes of millions of burned bodies testified that we did too little, too late.

  When will the time has come for us to do our duty before God and country in regard to the holocaust of abortion?  When will it be time for every able-bodied, clear-thinking Christian to enter the fight?  If a young man is not saving the lives of innocent children, is his courage and manhood called into question?

  As in Nehemiah, chapter three, everyone from merchants to shepherds set aside their usual job for a time, to rebuild the wall.  Every Christian ministry, God ordained and set apart for a particular need, must re-tool to win this war.  To continue to do business as usual while there are death-camps operating down the street is an insult to our Creator.

  And still the ashes of millions of burned bodies will testify that we did too little, too late.

  In the story, Ben’s letter to his parents was forced and censored.  It was common practice to keep a few Jews, Poles, and others alive for six months.  They would be forced to write home and lie to their friends or relatives about the conditions at Auschwitz.  After the letter was written they would be taken to the gas chamber and killed like the others, then cremated.

  Hanging on the wall today in Auschwitz is a fragment of an actual uncensored letter from Monika Dombke, born 1920, to her mother.  That letter reads:

  Electric wires, high and double

Won’t let you Mom – you won’t see your daughter

So don’t believe those censored letters of mine

cause the truth is different; but don’t cry, Mom.

  And if you would like to seek out your child’s trace

Don’t ask anyone, don’t knock anywhere:

look for the ashes in the fields of Auschwitz

It will be there.  But don’t cry – enough of bitterness here.

  And if you would like to discover your child’s trace

look for the ashes in the fields of Birkenau

They’ll be there – so look for the ashes

In the fields of Auschwitz, in the woods of Birkenau,

Mom, look for the ashes – I’ll be there!

AUSCHWITZ — 75 Years Later Deception Continues Seventy-five years after the liberation of Auschwitz, Jan. 27 is the International Holocaust Remembrance Day, when the world remembers and mourns the victims of the Holocaust.

My Best Friend’s Hot P2

@maddzroks

_____/—–\_____

Janna sat straight up in her bed in a cold sweat. No she didn’t have a nightmare, she just had another dream…about Star…for the fifth time…in the same night.

‘This sucks.’ Janna thought.

It had been no secret that Janna liked Star. Well it was, just not a well hidden one. You can blame Star for the amount Janna was suffering. It’s bad enough that Janna liked her but Star was the biggest tease in the world.

Janna attempted to go to sleep one last time before deciding to make a horrible decision. The teen jumped out of her bed, narrowly avoiding stepping on her snake. She slipped a jean jacket over her black tank top and slipped on some cargo pants. She grabbed her signature beanie before slipping out the window of her bedroom.

The thief’s breath was very visible in the October air. Walking below the street lights, Janna formulated a plan. She was going to break into the junkyard with Star, just because. The problem was that she was probably going to have to kidnap the blonde.

It was Saturday so Star and Marco were probably watching a movie marathon of some sorts.  Luckily,  Janna’s plan was simple. She make some inhuman noises outside, causing the Latino and the princess to go check it out. Next she stabs Marco and drugs Star. Unfortunately chloroform is hard to come by these days and stabbing Marco isn’t the best thing Janna could do, to get Star to like her.

So she’ll just have to separate the two and convince Star to go with her without telling Marco.

Will this probably leave Marco extremely worried? Yes. Will this ruin Star and Marco’s movie night? Also yes.

‘This is fine and not completely morally wrong.’ Janna thought, ‘Things will only go south if Star finds out that I ruined her time with Marco because I’m jealous of how much time he gets to spend with her and how I kind of, sort of, kidnapped her for my own selfish needs.’

_____/—–\_____

Janna arrived at the Diaz household minutes later. She looked at her phone. ‘Yup, still past my bedtime.’

The teen snuck up to the household and did exactly as she planned.

Janna screamed like all the ghouls from Hell had suddenly risen up from the depths of the abyss. Which is basically the same as a fan girl screaming after seeing Jake Paul.

Everything executed perfectly. Marco and Star came out and they ended up separating. Janna followed Star to the back of the Diaz house.

“Hey, Star.” Janna whispered from behind the girl.

Star made a small ‘meep’ noise and jumped, but when she saw Janna her face lit up.

Before Star could squeal something like 'Janna Banana’ the bluenette slipped her hand over the blonde’s mouth.

“How about we go trespassing?” Janna whispered.

“That sounds great!” Star whispered back, “But tonight’s movie night with Marco…and he made, uh, nachos and…stuff.”

“Pssh, Star you live in a Mexican household, the Diazs’ probably have nachos stored in the freezer.” Janna said, hoping her slight racism would prove true.

Star considered this for a second before speakong, “Yeah, you’re right! Who needs nachos anyways! Certainly not me, Star Butterfly!” Star spoke with great enthusiasm but Janna couldn’t help but feel that it was to convince herself of something.

“Alrighty then, let’s go.” Janna smiled devilishly. A smile that was devilish enough to come out of an ink machine.

Janna was about to hop the fence when Star tugged on her sleeve.

“Shouldn’t I tell Marco though?”

“Ha, nope.”

_____/—–\_____

“So what is the place?”

“The dump. It’s where humans take thier garbage, but sometimes you can find cool things.”

“What kind of cool things?”

“Stuff. One time I found a Pennsylvania license plate, and last week I found a goat skull.”

“Oooooh, skulls.”

Janna peared through the holes in the fence, watching a flashlight wave past the two.

Janna never knew why there were security guards at dumps. It’s trash people, nothing to guard here. Unless being a hipster and thinking trash is cool is a crime, Janna saw no point in barbed wire at the top of the fence.

To be honest though, even if it was a crime she would still probably break that law.

The two girls walked around (more like crouched, walked slowly, then fell to the ground everytime a guard got close) the perimeter until Janna found spot where the fence had been curved.

She lifted a heavy rock away from the bottom of the chain link fence, revealing an area where the metal was weakened and could be bent easily.

“Go ahead and move the fence up.” Janna whispered. This should be an educational trip. Really teach the kids lessons they need to know.

Star pulled the fence towards them, but Janna interupted and “accidentally” touched Star’s hand.

“My bad, I should have been more specific. You want to push it away from you so the bottom comes out the other side.” Janna told her and did as she said.

“Uh, why?”

“Because then you’ll be going with the grain, not against it. If you pull it towards you, your clothes could get caught and you make a lot more noise in general. This way you just slip through in the direction the fence is going.”

“Ohhhh.” Star nodded her head and tried to look like she was sincerely understanding the concept, Janna knew this wasn’t true.

Star has a lot to learn about being a criminal.

_____/—–\______

The two girls successfully made it into the junkyard. They both were sifting  through a pile of metal in the back of a rusty pickup truck.

Janna felt Star shiver next to her and she realized that the entire time they were out, Star only had a dress on.

“Are you okay?” Janna asked, still looking through the junk.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I’m a little cold-”

“Do you want my jacket?” Janna answered a little too quick.

“What? No. I can’t take your jacket, you’ll be cold then.”

“I don’t know about you but I’d rather have me, a person who has had the security of a jacket all night, be cold than you, a nice princess who has been wearing a dress all night, be cold.”

Star stopped moving the metal around for a moment and stared at the a random piece of aluminum for a second.

“Yeah, okay.”

Janna rolled the jacket off her shoulders, realizing that she only had a tank top under it, and transferred it to Star’s shoulders.

Star slipped it on and Janna buttoned up the front for her.

Janna got to the top button, the one that she always struggled with, and attempted to click the two sides together with ease.

But of course the gods were not in the Philipina’s favor and made it extra difficult this time.

Star giggled until Janna finally won over the jean jacket. The bluenette and the blonde’s eyes connected for a moment and they just stood there.

After awkwardly staring into each other’s faces for a while, Star cleared her throat.

“Uh, thanks, Janna.”

“Yeah, sure, no…no prob Bob.”

_____/—–\_____

After the two’s awkward encounter a question was presented. How would they carry all their hidden treasure? The two went in search for some sort of wagon, or backpack.

Janna decided to go a little closer to the security tower lights in order to see what they’re touching.

The girls searched for a while, and a while more, and so many whiles later that now we’re here.

“Hey, Janna can I talk to you about something?” Star asked suddenly.

“Go for it.”

“Okay, well it’s more like admitting  something more than telling something.”

Janna swallowed hard, “I’m listening.”

“Okay, earlier today I was a little upset with you because I… I really wanted those nachos and movie night.”

“Oh? Okay, that’s fine I guess?”

“Yeah it is but…ugh…that’s not why I was upset.”

Janna was deeply confused. What the heck is Star going on about. It doesn’t really matter to her if Star is a little upset with her (that was a lie). And for what? Nachos?

Actually that’s understandable.

“It’s weird to say.” Star said.

“Um, okay? What ever it is you can tell me, Star.”

“Fine. I’m upset because I wanted to spend time with, Marco I guess.”

Janna paused for a second. Again, what the heck is Star babbling about.

“Uh, Star you live with the dude. You spend quite enough time with him.” Janna told her, adding a little venom to the 'quite.’

“Yeah, I know, but movie night is like, the only time he’s not with Jackie.”

Janna could be interpreting this completely wrong. This could all be a misunderstanding. But for some reason Jackie’s name made something click in Janna’s brain.

Like a puzzle piece that you lost and the entire puzzle is done except of that one spot in the middle. Then a month later you find that piece and boom.

The puzzle is complete.

Janna turned her head, more upset than she realized.

“You still like Marco!”

“What! No! I don’t like Marco!”

“Yes you do, Star! I’m suprised you haven’t been talking about him all night!” Janna yelled.

“You wouldn’t get it!” Star yelled back, looking angrier than Janna’s ever seen her.

“I wouldn’t get what, Star? I wouldn’t get what?”

“I don’t need to tell you!” Star’s face turned red and she turned around with her arms crossed, leaving Janna to stare at her own clothing. Janna, being as mad as she was, walked up to Star and turned the girl around. “Um, I think you do!” Janna pushed a finger into Star’s chest.

“Do you know what it feels like Janna? Do you know what it feels like to love some one and no matter what you do, they love you not?” Star asked angrily, looking on the verge of tears. Janna was too upset though. The question left her a little mad to say the least.

“Yes I have, actually!” Janna said without realizing, her tendency want to have the last word kicking in. Star, expecting to hear a no, went from upset to angry again. “Oh yeah? Who then?” Star shouted getting into Janna’s face this time. “With you!” There wasn’t time for Janna to blush at what she said and be sorry. There wasn’t time for the color to drain from Star’s face when she realized that Janna had a crush on her the whole time. There wasn’t time for the two girls to kiss and make up. Janna already shoved Star onto a pile of junk and created a avalanche of garbage around them. Every guard that didn’t already hear the pairs shouting most definitely heard the trash collapse like it was 'The Shot Heard Around the World.’ Yelling from came from the distance and Janna and Star glanced at each other, mouths open. Janna grabbed Star’s arm and ran for it. She ran and led the princess through the yard. Not caring if she ran into flashlights. Not caring if every time she fell she earned a new scar, or that the cold air felt like it tore her skin when she ran against it. When she ran against the grain. Janna eventually found it though. She eventually found the part of the fence that had been bended. The only entrance and exit they could find. Janna practically shoved Star out the other end. Star was going to stay, going to help but Janna yelled at her to run. She told Star that she would be right behind her. And maybe it is less scary than it seems. Maybe these words and this format and the context make this seem like a horror film. I assure you it’s not. But that did not make this any less terrifying for Janna. The very thing that Janna told Star when they made it to the entrance. “If you pull it towards you, your clothes could get caught…” Janna’s words echoed in her mind when it happend. When she crawled through the fence she went against the grain. Her clothes got caught on the fence. /----\ Oof I dont know why the last paragraphs are messed up but I finally did it sjsjhajrhhrsnej