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Imaginary Authors, a Read (House Review, kind of)

I recently sampled a good amount of the fragrances from Imaginary Authors and thought I'd shared my thoughts and opinions! I am not an avid reviewer, so I hope my words make sense and are able to help guide people in the right direction. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this indie house!
Rating Scale: Full Bottle Worthy, Must Try, Worth a Sample, Meh, Hard Pass
Telegrama
Slow Explosions
Memoirs of a Trespasser
Cape Heartache
Saint Julep
Whispered Myths
O, Unknown!
Yesterday Haze
Soft Lawn
Every Storm a Serenade
My overall assessment after experiencing these scents:
I think Imaginary Authors accomplished what they set out to do, and that is to create great stories as the backbone of the house and to use these fragrances to transport the user directly into said story. These fragrances evoke such rich backdrops and images that make you feel like you’re there. I can tell that Josh and his team put so much work into this, and it shows. From the design aspects, names of the fragrances, and the scents themselves, each step had a good amount of thought in it. One word that may come to the minds of many who read this would be ‘novelty’. Do I think they are novelties? No, I don’t. Some of these could be worn as a signature scent, and some during certain seasons of the year. They are very wearable scents in my opinion. I don’t think Josh is a master perfumer, but I don’t think he set out to be. I could be totally wrong. What he was able to do, however, was amazing in its own right, and for that, I would totally recommend this indie house to anyone looking for something new to try.
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Hyperianism

I started seeing his videos on Facebook. They’d just pop up on my timeline. He looked odd. Long, white hair that was straight and extended down past his stomach. His eyebrows were shaved off, or maybe they were never there to begin with, it was impossible to tell.
He wore strange make-up to accent his inhuman features and project an alternative style.
His voice was both confident and articulate, but it was the things he said that drew me in. He spoke about the wonders of the universe, how it all worked and how every little thing we saw was nothing more than a complex system of mathematics put together to form what we perceived as reality.
Intrigued and desperate for something to believe in greater than myself, I couldn’t help but watch hours upon hours of the man. He was known only as Morgue, and he preached a religion in which he seemed to be the founder of or, at the very least, a strong influencer of the belief.
I’ll admit, looking back on Hyperianism, I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known that following something like this would only result in pain, but I was naive and, as I said before, desperate. My faith had been a bit wobbly before I found Morgue. My heart was empty and hopeless.
Then, as if by divine intervention, he was there.
His video, which was nothing more than a square jawed, androgynous man staring into a camera and speaking, drew me in. I think it was the eloquent intensity he spoke with. The way he explained how the world and all the scenarios that play out around us are just complex systems of math equations ebbing and flowing through space and time, something he’d dubbed Hyperianism.
It was genuinely titillating.
And even better - at the end of one of his more recent videos, aptly titled “The reason your life is empty,” he spoke of a meet and greet happening exactly one week from the time I’d watched it. An opportunity to speak with Morgue himself, along with his two closest colleagues, regarding Hyperianism and how to become a member of the “church.”
Sure, at first I had the thought that they would try to sell me something. I figured it was just a way for them to collect money. But then, as if he was answering my questions as they popped into my mind, he said:
“No, we will not try to sell you anything. And no, we are not looking for donations. We are looking for dedicated members of society who want to fulfill their destiny and become Hyperianists. Individuals who want nothing more than to know the truth. To EVOLVE beyond your wildest dreams.”
My mind was made up. I had my plane tickets bought only minutes after the video ended and excitement began to bubble inside of me. I was going to get to meet this man. To become a part of something greater than myself. To find something to believe in, finally!
Getting the time off work proved to be difficult. My boss refused to grant me a leave of absence, and because I didn’t have the vacation time accumulated he wouldn’t approve it that way either. So, I quit.
From what Morgue said in his video:
“You won’t need to be confined to human monotony. You won’t need a job after you’ve accepted Hyperianism. You will see the world for its true self. You will find yourself on a different plane, above all the rest.”
Over the course of the following week I took my money out of savings. I felt that, although after my religious awakening was complete I wouldn’t need these things, I would need to survive in the meantime. Food, water and shelter were still necessary.
Finally, the day arrived. The day I was to travel to Las Vegas in search of a man named Morgue who could show me divinity in its purest form. Looking back, even as I type that, I know it wasn’t my smartest move. Desperation can lead people to do things that don’t always make sense.
I boarded the airplane with only a single bag. I figured I wouldn’t need anything more. I would be awakened and, as Morgue said:
“Human constructs need not be collected post-divination. Your mind will be open to the complex system of mathematical sines and cosines around you. Material possessions will be deemed pointless, in your mind’s eye.”
The flight landed. The sky was dark seeing as my flight arrived shortly after 9pm, but the bright lights from the nearby, infamous Vegas Strip illuminated the atmosphere in surreal intensity.
Seeing the line-up of hotels and casinos, the characters travelling up and down the main drag with odd clothes and exotic animals and the people bustling about this late at night, drunkenly stumbling around the wide sidewalk caused me to smile ear to ear with exhilarated giddiness.
I approached my hotel, nerves causing my legs to wobble beneath me. I could feel my hands vibrating with a tremor, something I hadn’t been victim to before.
This was going to change my life. I could feel it.
The meeting wasn’t going to start until midnight because, as Morgue said in his video:
“Time is merely a construct meant to keep the human population at bay and without freedom. We will not be confined by imaginary constraints. We will remain nocturnal and break the chains of society’s overwatch on us. We will do as we please with whom we please. We will not be bound.”
I checked into my hotel room, having to place a large sum of money down as a deposit since I was paying in cash. The room was nice. Not quite as nice as I expected for how much I paid, but I didn’t think much of it. My mind just replayed Morgue’s words and I felt at ease.
I relaxed in my hotel room for a few hours, taking a few of the overly priced shots from the mini bar. By about 11pm, I’d started to feel a bit of a buzz and an overt amount of boredom. I figured I’d kill the hour downstairs in the casino playing some nickel and dime slots.
As you probably guessed, I didn’t win much. I just blew through about two-hundred dollars worth of change, and downed another two or three drinks in the short span of an hour, without so much as a second thought.
Then, the time came. I received a text from an unknown number giving me simple instructions:
“Go to room 1274.”
Easy enough.
When I got up to the twelfth floor, I saw a baker’s dozen people heading in the same direction as me. They moved slow, zombie-like and had vacant expressions on their faces clouded by a deep seated anxiety deep inside their eyes.
Their lack of physical emotion sent chills down my spine. A feeling that was hard to shake off as I joined the herd and headed toward room 1274. My mind was fuzzy on account of the drinks, but that didn’t stop me from wandering through the depths of my mind and playing scenario after horrifying scenario.
The image of robed figures splaying me out on a pedestal, spilling my innards over some sort of satanic symbols followed thoughts that perhaps I was walking into some sort of trap.
I tried to force the negativity to leave my mind by using some techniques I’d picked up in a few of Morgue’s videos, but they didn’t seem to be working. That should have been the first sign that something about this wasn’t quite what it was hyped up to be.
I went forward, swallowing my fear and fighting my legs to continue moving down the hall and into the door to room 1274.
When I arrived, following the half dozen or so people who hadn’t changed their minds halfway down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the room was impossibly dark. Uninviting scents of sweat and incense wafted into my nose as I sat down on a small folding chair.
Everyone around me was silent, waiting patiently for any sign that we were in the right place. After an excruciatingly long five minutes of anxious waiting, something started to happen.
A sound of deep bass bellowed throughout the room. Black lights lined the ceiling, illuminating a geometric symbol painted on the wall and causing it to glow bright blue.
A man, deathly skinny with long hair that also seemed to glow under the neon purple lighting, stepped up in front of the chairs and began speaking.
“Good evening.” He said in a familiar, articulate tone. “Tonight you have chosen to be awakened. You have seen that there is something more and you wish to be pushed into a state of divination.”
A stage light shined from behind me, causing his pale skin to glow bright white. The familiar man who’s videos I’d obsessively watched over the past few days looked a bit different. He was older. Much older.
“I am here to guide you into a state of consciousness that you have only dreamt about. I am here to give you the push required to open your mind.”
He made a gentle pushing gesture with his hands. It was theatrical, just like his videos. He smiled a terrible, crooked tooth, squinty-eyed smile. It shouted malice, but my mind argued with my instincts. It told me that I was being irrational; that my fear of the unknown was forcing me to see things that weren’t true.
Two people who made themselves known as Morgue’s colleagues began to make their way around to each of the six people that sat scattered throughout the room.
One was a lady, tall and thin like Morgue. She was covered from head to toe in tattoos of oddly configured shapes, all symmetrical from what I could see. She had a thick gauged septum ring that connected at each end of the horseshoe style jewelry to thin chains that strung up to her eyebrows and attached to circular rings there. It gave the faint appearance of a veil draped over her face.
The other was a large man. Round, as if he didn’t get the memo that food was no longer a necessity. He sported a tall, stiff mohawk. He opened his mouth as he approached me, revealing tarnished silver teeth. His eyes were inhuman, cat-like marbles set deep inside his perspiring head.
“Freedom awaits,” he said, handing me a small paper stick.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the small object, but it looked and felt similar to a pixie stick. Long and cylindrical with a sand like material that moved around as I kneaded it.
Morgue continued in the fashion of a true showman:
“We are here to help all who will welcome us. We want each and every one of you to take control of your destiny. To unlock your true potential and transcend this monotonous reality into a true state of nirvana and open-ended bliss. You will be in control of everything around you, changing that which does not please you, and highlighting that which does.”
He presented a cylinder identical to the one we all now held in our hands. The two punk-rock sidekicks joined him on stage, standing just outside of the spotlight.
The trio reminded me more of a circus sideshow, or some sort of freak show, rather than a group of religious leaders. That familiar anxiety began to grow inside me once again, fizzling deep within my stomach and tying my gut into a thick knot.
“Now,” Morgue said, raising his cylinder. “Raise your prophetic dust and ingest it with me. Become one with Hyperianism and leave behind this pathetic and putrid existence.”
He turned the cylinder up, into his mouth, tilting his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, inhumanly large like some sort of clementine stuck halfway down his esophagus.
His words sent my mind on a rampage of negative thoughts and terrifying realities. Was I right? Was this some sort of Jim Jones or Dave Koresh scenario that I’d gotten myself caught up in? How would I escape?
My breathing became rapid and erratic. A thick layer of sweat began to form all across my body and the room started to close in around me. My heart pounded deep inside my chest as I reached up and tugged at my collar, vainly attempting to cool my body.
I looked around and saw only two others doing as he commanded. The rest seemed to make the same connection as I did and simply looked around. Then, all four of our eyes fell on the two followers, as well as Morgue himself.
They’d ingested this substance that was likely poison. Any second now, they should begin to show signs. Foaming at the mouth, writhing on the floor, something…
But there was nothing. No sign that they had just willingly killed themselves.
Morgue also looked fine. If anything, he actually looked ten years younger, as if he’d stepped into the fountain of youth before our eyes. I wasn’t sure what the rest of the crowd was thinking, but this was only partially comforting. It was clear, at least in my mind, that Morgue had simply taken a placebo. The real poison was held by those of us seated in front of him.
But still, the two who were brave enough to try it didn’t fall out or start convulsing uncontrollably, which sparked my curiosity. If it wasn’t poison, then what was it? Still, I wasn’t curious enough to find out for myself, regardless of how compelling Morgue’s videos had been. Sure, he’d made a decent argument for his cause online, but undeniable proof would’ve been more convincing.
Unfortunately for the other devotees, they saw things differently. They looked to one another before upturning the small cylinders, dumping the contents into their mouths. Each of them shuddered in disgust as the fine powder hit their tongues and began to work its way down their throats.
A man two seats to my right looked at me. The pained expression of utter disgust quickly washing away from his face, replaced by a euphoric absence as his eyes glazed over. Now, he looked more like a slave to the substance than a man free of human constraint.
My eyes quickly darted to the front of the room. Morgue and his two sidekicks appeared to be eyeing me. Waiting for me to make the same choice as the others around me. He looked at the woman to his left, then turned his head dramatically to the heavy-set man to his right. I noticed his skin appeared to glow brighter under the spot light, nearly blinding me.
“There’s always one…” he said, trailing off with a sinister laugh.
The woman suddenly appeared to my right. It was impossible and caused me to jump with a start. She had literally just been ten feet in front of me and, in the blink of an eye, appeared by my side. The rotund man was on my left, also as if by some sort of magical teleportation.
They extended arms out toward me, sending me into a panicked hysteria. My mind suddenly switched focus. It was now fight or flight, and flight didn’t seem like much of an option seeing as how I was surrounded.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sending gooseflesh rising across my body. My limbs shook uncontrollably. I managed, after a moment of pure terror, to clench a fist and hurl it at the woman. It was against my natural instincts, having been raised to never hit a woman, but she was a threat and I was left with no other choice.
My knuckles connected with her nose and I heard a loud crunch as my hand struck her face. I pulled back, but something held my hand in place against her face, resisting as I attempted to pull away. Without thinking, I jerked my hand back.
She grabbed her face and let out a yawp, collapsing to the floor and writhing in agony. I looked down at my throbbing hand and noticed thin chains encircling my fist, embedded into the skin in some areas. Small bits of flesh hung on the ends attached to circular rings.
I knew this was my only chance. I had to run. I had to go and never look back.
I jumped up, over the small folding chairs and bolted towards the door. Morgue stood there, blocking the only exit. He was motionless, his arms crossed over his shirtless torso and his large, penetrating eyes staring at me with contempt.
The foreboding sense of pure dread lingered in the air, thick enough to cut. I stared at Morgue as I came to a halt about six feet away from him. I was unsure if I should try to rush him or if I should look for another escape route.
My time was running short and I knew it. I knew if I didn’t try to make my escape now, I wouldn’t have another opportunity. I decided to rush him, remembering my brief stint in elementary school football. I sprinted toward him, ready to make the tackle. I came in low and wrapped my arms around his waist but he didn’t budge. I was stopped in my tracks as if he was made of stone, slamming my shoulder into rock hard flesh.
I stumbled back, gripping my aching shoulder. Why didn’t he move? Was this really how I was meant to die? I refused to accept it. I couldn’t allow myself to fall victim to this… thing.
“You cannot escape us.” He said, slowly stepping toward me.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder and whipped my head around to see the familiar large man covered in tattoos. The henchman who’d handed me the prospective poison. Rage billowed deep within his eyes, his mouth was turned up in a horrid scowl. The neon lighting of the room seemed to accent this rage, giving him a demonic, glowing aura.
I scanned the room in search of something… anything that I might be able to use to aid my escape, but there was nothing. The five others who had entered with me sat in their seats staring forward as if they didn’t realize the commotion happening around them.
“Hey!” I shouted, trying to get their attention as the large man tightened his grip on my shoulder and brought his other hand up to my opposite shoulder.
He had a grip on me like a vice, lifting me clear off my feet and dangling me in the air for a moment. I flailed my legs in a vain attempt to free myself from his grip. It was pointless, though. He was the size of a full grown ox, triple my weight, and he had a strong hold on me.
I stopped resisting for a moment and thought. The pressure bearing down on my chest and arms was shortening my breaths and clouding my mind. I couldn’t figure out how I would escape and had begun to accept my fate. I’d gotten in too far over my head.
Then, it hit me. The woman didn’t seem to be impervious like Morgue. I was able to land a swift punch to her face that she had yet to recover from. I looked over the large man’s shoulder, at the heap of bone and flesh on the floor. She panted, gripping at her face, but she did not stand.
I found myself in another dilemma, though. My arms were pinned to my sides, so landing a punch was out of the question.
Think… think! I told myself in my mind.
The thought came quickly, and I acted just as fast. I reared my leg back, winding up for a powerful kick before whipping it forward, as hard as I could. I felt the top part of my foot land hard in his crotch. Flesh collapsed under the force of my kick, and I saw the man’s expression quickly change. The fury left him, replaced by absolute agony.
He quickly released his grip on me and his hands found their way to his family jewels. He let out a groan and exhaled all the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground. I stumbled down, watching Morgue make a slow and methodical approach.
He walked by the heap of man on the floor, staring down at him with utter disgust.
“Pathetic…” he said through gritted teeth as he reared back and landed a kick. Morgue’s heavy boot connected with the man’s ribs and an inconceivably loud crunch echoed through the room, causing me to wince in repulsion.
It became clear to me then that Morgue had no sympathy for his “colleagues.” They were likely just people that he’d converted to his twisted religion. People who saw no other option than to do as they were told.
I looked back at the people, still seated and staring up at the wall. Their eyes were fixed on that glowing symbol on the wall behind where Morgue had made his dramatic introduction.
Then, something happened. Something I still can’t quite explain.
All at once, the people let out an exhausted breath. A glowing, misty cloud escaped each of their mouths and made its way to the front of the room, falling onto the painted symbol on the wall. It appeared to be pulling the mist into the center, as if it were some sort of vacuum. The glow pulsated, growing brighter then dimming, as it absorbed the cloud.
Then, as the last of it escaped their mouths, the people collapsed from their seats and laid in heaps on the ground. I stared in horror as their bodies quickly decayed before my eyes, turning into ash before collapsing into small mountains of grey dust that glowed under the club style lighting around me.
That… That could’ve been me… I thought, trembling in fear.
I turned my head and looked back at Morgue, who took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and letting a sinister grin stretch across his face from ear to ear. When he let the breath out and looked at me, a warm sensation spread across my front as my bladder emptied its contents from complete and utter fear.
His eyes glowed in their sockets. Not like your typical neon glow under a blacklight. No, they were bright red, like laser beams shooting from his eyes. His emaciated frame had suddenly filled out, his muscle nearly tripling in size, veins bulging from his chest and biceps. His trapezius swelled up, eliminating the appearance of a neck.
I couldn’t move. My legs simply would not take me to safety and instead, remained planted in place as the warm urine continued to spread across my jeans. Morgue continued to transform before my eyes. His hands became increasingly large, and his black fingernails, which I had previously assumed to be painted, grew into long, sharp talons.
Finally, my legs took what my brain told them to do and acted, but not in the way I expected. Rather than bolting for the door, they decided to slowly back away from this monster. Not a terrible move, I must say, but not the smartest.
I continued backing up, kicking metal folding chairs out of my way without taking my eyes off of the snarling beast before me. It appeared his terrifying and amazing transformation was complete and he had now locked eyes with me. My heart felt like it was going to jump up my throat and out of my mouth, beating crazily in my chest as the beast approached.
I felt myself back into something solid, a cool breeze shot up my back from below. The air conditioner, and the cool wall against my back was the window.
Morgue snarled inhumanly deep, squelching gurgles as he continued taking heavy, thumping steps toward me.
He stopped for a moment, just over arms length away from me.
A split second of silence. A brief thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d make it out alive. Maybe he would just let me leave.
That thought exited my mind quickly as he leapt forward, barreling straight at me with his steroid built body. His feet fell one over another, thundering below me and vibrating the carpeted floor beneath my feet.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment.
Then I felt it.
The stinging sensation of his claws digging into my torso. The vibrating pulsation of puncturing talons inserting themselves deep into my skin, making their way below layer after layer of skin until they found muscle and seated themselves into it.
The sound of shattering glass behind me as the window I was propped up against gave way, sending myself and Morgue plummeting twelve stories down.
We flipped through the air as my insides twisted and butterflies fluttered in my torso. Morgue still had his claws deep inside of my stomach, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything as the adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.
I could hear screams gaining volume below me, barely audible over the roar of wind invading my ears. I closed my eyes and came to grips with the reality that this was my demise. I stopped with a thud, air forcing its way out of my lungs before blacking out.
Small bits of consciousness came back to me violently. Flashes of incomprehensible pieces of reality interrupted by darkness.
The feeling of drowning, air being replaced by water inside of my lungs, a pulsating pressure on my sternum followed by oxygen forcing its way down my trachea. Flashing red lights and two men lifting my body off the ground.
When I finally awoke, my surroundings were foreign. Rhythmic beeping played in the background coupled with the intermittent hissing of oxygen purging itself from over-pressurized lines.
I looked around, squinting my eyes as the fluorescent lighting above me shone down. Intravenous fluid lines invaded my right arm. My left was wrapped in a hard cast. Aches in my back and chest caused my breathing to be short and labored. My mouth was impossibly dry, lips sticking together as I opened and tried to speak.
“Hello?” I said, forcing the words out in a gritty screech.
I was alone. An off-white thermal blanket draped over me as I laid, sprawled out on a hospital bed. One of the many monitors attached to me began beeping faster before someone finally entered. A woman in scrubs bearing a familiar comic book character symbol walked in.
“Oh, excellent!” she cheered in a tone that was all too chipper. “You’re awake. Your doctor will be so happy to hear that! How are you feeling?”
I could hear genuine concern in her tone, but didn’t know how to answer.
“Wha-” I started but was cut off.
“What happened?” She asked, assuming what I was thinking. “You fell twelve stories out of your hotel room. Luckily you went right into the pool and one of the brave, albeit drunk, guys downstairs was able to fish you out in time.”
I sat there for a moment, the look on my face that of pure confusion. Then, everything came back to me in a horrific flash. I felt my pulse speeding up as the panic began to flow freely through my veins. The monotonous beeping sped up, giving away my secret to the nurse.
“Woah, woah,” she said. “It’s okay. Just calm down a moment.”
She held her hands in front of her, palms out as if to say “don’t worry.” I could do anything but. Thoughts flowed freely through my mind. Where had Morgue gone? Would he be back?
My chest began to sting and throb as my breathing became heavier. I sighed and gasped in pain. The nurse seemed to read me like a book, making sense of my guttural noises.
“You’ve got a handful of broken ribs and some pretty serious puncture wounds across your chest. You need to take it easy. I’m going to give you a mild sedative. Just something to calm your nerves.”
She held up a needle before inserting it into the IV line sticking out of my arm. As she depressed the plunger, I felt the cold liquid spread through my veins. A few seconds later, the effects of the medicine became noticeable. She placed the syringe into a sharps bin before turning back to me and removing her rubber gloves.
“Your doctor will be in shortly.”
She smiled, turned and left the room. My mouth still felt like a desert, but I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep once again. A restful daze took its hold on me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.
Visions of Morgue making his daring and terrible transformation invaded my mind, sending me reeling in horror as the scene played out in my head once again. A disembodied voice that I hadn’t recognized repeated my name over and over again.
“Jona-ton?” he asked. “Jona-ton, are you awake?
He spoke with a hispanic accent, saying my name with the slightest inflection at the end.
My eyes shot open and relief washed over me as I realized I was still in the safety of the hospital room. A man was seated next to my bed. Dark complexion with black hair slicked back and a thick layer of scruff covering his chin.
“Buenas dias,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his clipboard. “How are you feeling?”
I struggled to speak through my dry mouth and the utter exhaustion I felt.
“Crappy,” I said in a raspy whisper.
“As expected,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle before continuing. “You fell nearly a hundred and twenty feet. You’re quite lucky to be alive. Can you tell me your name?”
“Yeah… ah,” I winced in pain as I attempted to prop myself up a bit. “Jonathon Winslow.” I said, struggling through the words as my squeaky voice grounded away in my throat.
“Good, Jona-ton. Now,” he straightened the glasses perched on his nose. “I am going to leave you here with Officer Black. She has a couple questions for you regarding how you fell from that window.”
He motioned towards the door where a small, petite woman entered the room. She wore a blue uniform adorned with a patch on her left shoulder that read “Las Vegas Police Department.” Her small nose, narrow eyes and darker complexion told me she was likely of Asian descent.
“Hello, mister Winslow.” She said, bringing a lime green clipboard up to her chest and jotting something down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her eyes jumped from the piece of green plastic she held and met my gaze. I knew she wouldn’t believe my story, but what else could I say? The nervousness was definitely showing on my face. If I didn’t choose my words carefully, I could be committed to some sort of psych ward or mental institution under the Baker Act, and I certainly didn’t belong there.
I pondered what could possibly go wrong if I just admitted why I’d gone there in the first place, and simply left out the part where Morgue turned into some sort of demonic monster. It wasn’t so far fetched to think I’d gone there searching for something to believe in and when I showed up, I was met with a group of psychopaths who ultimately tried to kill me before tossing me out the window.
I opted for that excuse which Officer Black seemed to have no trouble believing. I guess the stories about Vegas are true - anything goes in this city.
She took down a description of all three people, but I knew nothing would be done. There was nothing they could do. They didn’t have a real name, and from the clock on the wall I knew it was at least 9am, meaning they’d had 9 hours to make their escape.
She nodded, thanking me for the information, turned and exited.
The doctor entered once again and informed me that I would need a few tests. Being conscious would allow them to find brain damage easier, if there was any.
Aside from a somewhat minor concussion, several broken ribs, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds, I was ultimately given a clean bill of health. But what would I do? I was stuck in Vegas with no money, no car and no job waiting for me back home.
I left the hospital and found that it was surprisingly easy to secure a payday loan. It struck me as odd at first, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that a guy being stranded in Vegas with no car or money might be a pretty common scenario.
After securing a flight and making my way home, I finally felt safe. I could settle back into reality, knowing that the existence Morgue had preached about was non-existent. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of paranoia, though. The thought that everytime I looked over my shoulder or around a dark corner, Morgue would be there. His hulking figure and large talons ready to finish the job they’d started sent chills down my spine and anxiety gripping my chest.
Getting my job back was tough. Not because my boss didn’t want me back, but because I had to put my pride to the wayside and formulate a somewhat embarrassing lie. The look on his face changed in an instant.
At first he’d had a contemptuous look, eyebrows parallel and a frown smeared across his jaw, ready for me to get down on my knees and beg. But as soon as I told him that I’d quit because I was in a bad place mentally, and that I needed to get help, his expression shifted. His eyebrows raised in a state of concern, the frown, although still present, no longer conveyed contempt but worry.
“Oh, Jonathon. I’m sorry, man…” He’d told me, eyes darting around his head like a madman. “You’re welcome back here as soon as you can. Take a few days to yourself and then we’ll see you back here on… say, Monday?”
I smiled, unsure of what to say other than:
“Sounds good, thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
I turned and walked out after a quick handshake, the feeling of accomplishment forming a victorious smirk on my face. Things were back to normal. My weekend was insane, but now I could settle back into the norm.
A few weeks passed. Things were going as good as they could, but that empty feeling had begun to return. I could feel myself falling back into a slump.
Browsing through facebook seemed to be my time waster of choice. Scrolling through and liking photos, laughing internally at memes, watching short videos of people doing dumb stuff that ultimately resulted in them being hurt. Typical internet stuff.
Then, I saw it. That androgynous man, no eye brows. Long, white-blonde hair draped over his face in matted, wet strands. He stared into the camera, speaking familiar teachings. Things about how to control the universe - how to make it work in your favor.
I wouldn’t be tempted this time, though. I knew his secret. I knew what his endgame was.
I tapped my thumb on the profile picture associated with Morgue, taking me to an archive of all his videos. Some familiar, some new. I didn’t watch them, though. I simply clicked the “more options” tab, scrolled to the bottom of the menu and clicked “Block User.”
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What A Day: Curious, Georgia by Sarah Lazarus & Crooked Media (04/23/20)

"Why don’t we just put everybody in a space outfit or something like that?" - Stephen Moore, economic advisor to the president and grown man

Mitch Better Have My Money

More than 4.4 million Americans filed new jobless claims in the last week, bringing the reported unemployment total over the past five weeks to 26 million. Faced with those numbers, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has decided it’s time to pump the brakes on any additional economic relief, and possibly force blue states and cities into bankruptcy, reminding us all why he's the most popular politician in America.
In New York, preliminary results from antibody studies indicate that the state’s 250,000 confirmed cases of coronavirus may be just the tip of the iceberg.
Even with unemployment numbers rising by the millions every week, an overwhelming majority of Americans understand that reopening the economy prematurely isn’t the solution. A Politico/Morning Consult poll from last weekend found that 76 percent of respondents felt social distancing measures should continue for as long as necessary. Kemp and reckless Republican leaders like him are ignoring public opinion in addition to national guidelines, and endangering public health.

Look No Further Than The Crooked Media

So far, 3,660 of you have used the call tool on https://votesaveamerica.com/call to get connected to your representatives in Congress and tell them that they need to include funding to make elections safe and accessible as part of their next coronavirus package. Keep them coming!
Now we want to hear from you: why do YOU need safer voting options this year? Whether you have a preexisting condition that puts you at risk, or don’t feel safe volunteering at the polls, we want to hear your story. Send in a video to us at 323-405-9944 so we can share your story and send a message to Congress and the state governments about how important this is →

Under The Radar

Florida has distinguished itself as a nightmarish place to be unemployed. The state is one of the slowest in the country to process its jobless claims, which means hundreds of thousands of unemployed Florida workers have been waiting weeks to receive their first checks, and many haven’t even been able to file their claims. The state agreed to start accepting paper applications this month, after its unemployment website broke down under the volume of traffic. Florida’s GOP leaders have intentionally weakened its unemployment system over the last decade, leaving its workers particularly vulnerable in this crisis: The state’s unemployment benefits max out at $275 a week.
Nearly all of the major battleground states in the 2020 election are experiencing higher-than-average layoffs. In addition to prying more relief funding out of Mitch McConnell’s cold bloodless hands, it will be on all of us to make sure those voters realize that this level of economic fallout, and the broken systems exacerbating it, were preventable.

What Else?

President Trump’s immigration executive order temporarily restricts some visas, but doesn’t contain the broad freeze on green cards he announced earlier this week.
China pledged an additional $30 million to the World Health Organization after Trump froze U.S. funding. If the U.S. wants to surrender its influence over a key international institution, China is happy to take up that role.
Elizabeth Warren’s eldest brother has died after contracting the coronavirus. Don Reed Herring, an Air Force veteran, died at age 86 on Tuesday.
Las Vegas, NV, workers have pushed back on Mayor Carolyn Goodman’s calls to reopen the city as a “control group,” to see what happens without social distancing. Goodman said she wanted hotels and casinos to reopen quickly, but doesn’t have jurisdiction over the Las Vegas Strip. Goodman also said she wouldn’t go to the reopened casinos herself because “I don’t gamble,” which is (chef’s kiss).
Leaked results from a clinical trial of remdesivir in China showed it carries no benefit for coronavirus patients, though the study ended prematurely because it had too few patients. Other studies are still in progress.
Two cats in New York have become the first U.S. pets to test positive for coronavirus. Health officials emphasized there’s no evidence that pets can transmit the virus to people.
Scientists in the U.K. think dogs might soon be able to sniff out asymptomatic COVID-19 cases. Labradors and spaniels have already been trained to detect malaria, and within weeks, some very good boys may play an important role in identifying coronavirus superspreaders.
The San Clemente, CA, plan to deter skateboarders by filling a skate park with sand has backfired by attracting dirt bikers. The wild BMX bikes have returned to the skate park. Nature is healing.

Be Smarter

In a New York Times op-ed this week, Dr. Richard Levitan described volunteering at New York’s Bellevue Hospital for 10 days. Levitan shared a new insight into what makes COVID pneumonia uniquely dangerous: Unlike most pneumonia patients with very low oxygen saturation (hypoxia), many COVID-19 patients don’t feel short of breath until they’re close to respiratory failure. That seems to be a result of the peculiar way the coronavirus attacks the lungs, and when patients breathe faster and harder to compensate for their “silent hypoxia” without realizing it, their lungs sustain further damage. That may explain why so many patients on ventilators ultimately die: They didn’t get to the hospital until their pneumonia was well advanced. Levitan recommended more widespread use of pulse oximeters to detect hypoxia early.
Since the op-ed was published, pulse oximeters have become impossible to find, which Levitan says is no cause for panic. (Hospitals don't use the same devices, so this isn't an N95 mask situation.) Think of it like a thermometer—something you should probably have in your home eventually.

What A Sponsor

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Is That Hope I Feel?

Publix has launched an initiative to purchase milk and fresh produce from struggling farmers, and donate it directly to Feeding America food banks.
Braskem America workers voluntarily lived at the factory for 28 days, producing tens of millions of pounds of the raw materials needed for PPE.
Ruth's Chris Steak House, Sweetgreen, and King Sushi announced they’ll return the small-business loans they received from the Payroll Protection Program. Yelling at companies on the internet works!
A federal appeals court ruled that Detroit students (and by extension, all children in the U.S.) have a fundamental right to a basic education.
Virginia has become the latest state to end prison gerrymandering, the practice of counting incarcerated people where they’re detained, rather than at their last known residence.

Enjoy

Geoff Lemon 🍋 on Twitter: "The Pope being schooled in theological biology by an account dedicated to bat PR is perhaps the best combination of things to happen on this website."
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I joined the church of Hyperianism... Don’t make the same mistake

I started seeing his videos on Facebook. They’d just pop up on my timeline.
He looked odd. Long, white hair that was straight and extended down past his stomach. His eyebrows were shaved off, or maybe they were never there to begin with, it was impossible to tell. He wore strange make-up to accent his inhuman features and project an alternative style.
His voice was both confident and articulate, but it was the things he said that drew me in. He spoke about the wonders of the universe, how it all worked and how every little thing we saw was nothing more than a complex system of mathematics put together to form what we perceived as reality.
Intrigued and desperate for something to believe in greater than myself, I couldn’t help but watch hours upon hours of the man. He was known only as Morgue, and he preached a religion in which he seemed to be the founder of or, at the very least, a strong influencer of the belief.
I’ll admit, looking back on Hyperianism, I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known that following something like this would only result in pain, but I was naive and, as I said before, desperate. My faith had been a bit wobbly before I found Morgue. My heart was empty and hopeless.
Then, as if by divine intervention, he was there.
His video, which was nothing more than a square jawed, androgynous man staring into a camera and speaking, drew me in. I think it was the eloquent intensity he spoke with. The way he explained how the world and all the scenarios that play out around us are just complex systems of math equations ebbing and flowing through space and time, something he’d dubbed Hyperianism.
It was genuinely titillating.
And even better - at the end of one of his more recent videos, aptly titled “The reason your life is empty,” he spoke of a meet and greet happening exactly one week from the time I’d watched it. An opportunity to speak with Morgue himself, along with his two closest colleagues, regarding Hyperianism and how to become a member of the “church.”
Sure, at first I had the thought that they would try to sell me something. I figured it was just a way for them to collect money. But then, as if he was answering my questions as they popped into my mind, he said:
“No, we will not try to sell you anything. And no, we are not looking for donations. We are looking for dedicated members of society who want to fulfill their destiny and become Hyperianists. Individuals who want nothing more than to know the truth. To EVOLVE beyond your wildest dreams.”
My mind was made up. I had my plane tickets bought only minutes after the video ended and excitement began to bubble inside of me. I was going to get to meet this man. To become a part of something greater than myself. To find something to believe in, finally!
Getting the time off work proved to be difficult. My boss refused to grant me a leave of absence, and because I didn’t have the vacation time accumulated he wouldn’t approve it that way either. So, I quit.
From what Morgue said in his video:
“You won’t need to be confined to human monotony. You won’t need a job after you’ve accepted Hyperianism. You will see the world for its true self. You will find yourself on a different plane, above all the rest.”
Over the course of the following week I took my money out of savings. I felt that, although after my religious awakening was complete I wouldn’t need these things, I would need to survive in the meantime. Food, water and shelter were still necessary.
Finally, the day arrived. The day I was to travel to Las Vegas in search of a man named Morgue who could show me divinity in its purest form. Looking back, even as I type that, I know it wasn’t my smartest move. Desperation can lead people to do things that don’t always make sense.
I boarded the airplane with only a single bag. I figured I wouldn’t need anything more. I would be awakened and, as Morgue said:
“Human constructs need not be collected post-divination. Your mind will be open to the complex system of mathematical sines and cosines around you. Material possessions will be deemed pointless, in your mind’s eye.”
The flight landed. The sky was dark seeing as my flight arrived shortly after 9pm, but the bright lights from the nearby, infamous Vegas Strip illuminated the atmosphere in surreal intensity.
Seeing the line-up of hotels and casinos, the characters travelling up and down the main drag with odd clothes and exotic animals and the people bustling about this late at night, drunkenly stumbling around the wide sidewalk caused me to smile ear to ear with exhilarated giddiness.
I approached my hotel, nerves causing my legs to wobble beneath me. I could feel my hands vibrating with a tremor, something I hadn’t been victim to before.
This was going to change my life. I could feel it.
The meeting wasn’t going to start until midnight because, as Morgue said in his video:
“Time is merely a construct meant to keep the human population at bay and without freedom. We will not be confined by imaginary constraints. We will remain nocturnal and break the chains of society’s overwatch on us. We will do as we please with whom we please. We will not be bound.”
I checked into my hotel room, having to place a large sum of money down as a deposit since I was paying in cash. The room was nice. Not quite as nice as I expected for how much I paid, but I didn’t think much of it. My mind just replayed Morgue’s words and I felt at ease.
I relaxed in my hotel room for a few hours, taking a few of the overly priced shots from the mini bar. By about 11pm, I’d started to feel a bit of a buzz and an overt amount of boredom. I figured I’d kill the hour downstairs in the casino playing some nickel and dime slots.
As you probably guessed, I didn’t win much. I just blew through about two-hundred dollars worth of change, and downed another two or three drinks in the short span of an hour, without so much as a second thought.
Then, the time came. I received a text from an unknown number giving me simple instructions:
“Go to room 1274.”
Easy enough.
When I got up to the twelfth floor, I saw a baker’s dozen people heading in the same direction as me. They moved slow, zombie-like and had vacant expressions on their faces clouded by a deep seated anxiety deep inside their eyes.
Their lack of physical emotion sent chills down my spine. A feeling that was hard to shake off as I joined the herd and headed toward room 1274. My mind was fuzzy on account of the drinks, but that didn’t stop me from wandering through the depths of my mind and playing scenario after horrifying scenario.
The image of robed figures splaying me out on a pedestal, spilling my innards over some sort of satanic symbols followed thoughts that perhaps I was walking into some sort of trap.
I tried to force the negativity to leave my mind by using some techniques I’d picked up in a few of Morgue’s videos, but they didn’t seem to be working. That should have been the first sign that something about this wasn’t quite what it was hyped up to be.
I went forward, swallowing my fear and fighting my legs to continue moving down the hall and into the door to room 1274.
When I arrived, following the half dozen or so people who hadn’t changed their minds halfway down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the room was impossibly dark. Uninviting scents of sweat and incense wafted into my nose as I sat down on a small folding chair.
Everyone around me was silent, waiting patiently for any sign that we were in the right place. After an excruciatingly long five minutes of anxious waiting, something started to happen.
A sound of deep bass bellowed throughout the room. Black lights lined the ceiling, illuminating a geometric symbol painted on the wall and causing it to glow bright blue.
A man, deathly skinny with long hair that also seemed to glow under the neon purple lighting, stepped up in front of the chairs and began speaking.
“Good evening.” He said in a familiar, articulate tone. “Tonight you have chosen to be awakened. You have seen that there is something more and you wish to be pushed into a state of divination.”
A stage light shined from behind me, causing his pale skin to glow bright white. The familiar man who’s videos I’d obsessively watched over the past few days looked a bit different. He was older. Much older.
“I am here to guide you into a state of consciousness that you have only dreamt about. I am here to give you the push required to open your mind.”
He made a gentle pushing gesture with his hands. It was theatrical, just like his videos. He smiled a terrible, crooked tooth, squinty-eyed smile. It shouted malice, but my mind argued with my instincts. It told me that I was being irrational; that my fear of the unknown was forcing me to see things that weren’t true.
Two people who made themselves known as Morgue’s colleagues began to make their way around to each of the six people that sat scattered throughout the room.
One was a lady, tall and thin like Morgue. She was covered from head to toe in tattoos of oddly configured shapes, all symmetrical from what I could see. She had a thick gauged septum ring that connected at each end of the horseshoe style jewelry to thin chains that strung up to her eyebrows and attached to circular rings there. It gave the faint appearance of a veil draped over her face.
The other was a large man. Round, as if he didn’t get the memo that food was no longer a necessity. He sported a tall, stiff mohawk. He opened his mouth as he approached me, revealing tarnished silver teeth. His eyes were inhuman, cat-like marbles set deep inside his perspiring head.
“Freedom awaits,” he said, handing me a small paper stick.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the small object, but it looked and felt similar to a pixie stick. Long and cylindrical with a sand like material that moved around as I kneaded it.
Morgue continued in the fashion of a true showman:
“We are here to help all who will welcome us. We want each and every one of you to take control of your destiny. To unlock your true potential and transcend this monotonous reality into a true state of nirvana and open-ended bliss. You will be in control of everything around you, changing that which does not please you, and highlighting that which does.”
He presented a cylinder identical to the one we all now held in our hands. The two punk-rock sidekicks joined him on stage, standing just outside of the spotlight.
The trio reminded me more of a circus sideshow, or some sort of freak show, rather than a group of religious leaders. That familiar anxiety began to grow inside me once again, fizzling deep within my stomach and tying my gut into a thick knot.
“Now,” Morgue said, raising his cylinder. “Raise your prophetic dust and ingest it with me. Become one with Hyperianism and leave behind this pathetic and putrid existence.”
He turned the cylinder up, into his mouth, tilting his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, inhumanly large like some sort of clementine stuck halfway down his esophagus.
His words sent my mind on a rampage of negative thoughts and terrifying realities. Was I right? Was this some sort of Jim Jones or Dave Koresh scenario that I’d gotten myself caught up in? How would I escape?
My breathing became rapid and erratic. A thick layer of sweat began to form all across my body and the room started to close in around me. My heart pounded deep inside my chest as I reached up and tugged at my collar, vainly attempting to cool my body.
I looked around and saw only two others doing as he commanded. The rest seemed to make the same connection as I did and simply looked around. Then, all four of our eyes fell on the two followers, as well as Morgue himself.
They’d ingested this substance that was likely poison. Any second now, they should begin to show signs. Foaming at the mouth, writhing on the floor, something…
But there was nothing. No sign that they had just willingly killed themselves.
Morgue also looked fine. If anything, he actually looked ten years younger, as if he’d stepped into the fountain of youth before our eyes. I wasn’t sure what the rest of the crowd was thinking, but this was only partially comforting. It was clear, at least in my mind, that Morgue had simply taken a placebo. The real poison was held by those of us seated in front of him.
But still, the two who were brave enough to try it didn’t fall out or start convulsing uncontrollably, which sparked my curiosity. If it wasn’t poison, then what was it? Still, I wasn’t curious enough to find out for myself, regardless of how compelling Morgue’s videos had been. Sure, he’d made a decent argument for his cause online, but undeniable proof would’ve been more convincing.
Unfortunately for the other devotees, they saw things differently. They looked to one another before upturning the small cylinders, dumping the contents into their mouths. Each of them shuddered in disgust as the fine powder hit their tongues and began to work its way down their throats.
A man two seats to my right looked at me. The pained expression of utter disgust quickly washing away from his face, replaced by a euphoric absence as his eyes glazed over. Now, he looked more like a slave to the substance than a man free of human constraint.
My eyes quickly darted to the front of the room. Morgue and his two sidekicks appeared to be eyeing me. Waiting for me to make the same choice as the others around me. He looked at the woman to his left, then turned his head dramatically to the heavy-set man to his right. I noticed his skin appeared to glow brighter under the spot light, nearly blinding me.
“There’s always one…” he said, trailing off with a sinister laugh.
The woman suddenly appeared to my right. It was impossible and caused me to jump with a start. She had literally just been ten feet in front of me and, in the blink of an eye, appeared by my side. The rotund man was on my left, also as if by some sort of magical teleportation.
They extended arms out toward me, sending me into a panicked hysteria. My mind suddenly switched focus. It was now fight or flight, and flight didn’t seem like much of an option seeing as how I was surrounded.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sending gooseflesh rising across my body. My limbs shook uncontrollably. I managed, after a moment of pure terror, to clench a fist and hurl it at the woman. It was against my natural instincts, having been raised to never hit a woman, but she was a threat and I was left with no other choice.
My knuckles connected with her nose and I heard a loud crunch as my hand struck her face. I pulled back, but something held my hand in place against her face, resisting as I attempted to pull away. Without thinking, I jerked my hand back.
She grabbed her face and let out a yawp, collapsing to the floor and writhing in agony. I looked down at my throbbing hand and noticed thin chains encircling my fist, embedded into the skin in some areas. Small bits of flesh hung on the ends attached to circular rings.
I knew this was my only chance. I had to run. I had to go and never look back.
I jumped up, over the small folding chairs and bolted towards the door. Morgue stood there, blocking the only exit. He was motionless, his arms crossed over his shirtless torso and his large, penetrating eyes staring at me with contempt.
The foreboding sense of pure dread lingered in the air, thick enough to cut. I stared at Morgue as I came to a halt about six feet away from him. I was unsure if I should try to rush him or if I should look for another escape route.
My time was running short and I knew it. I knew if I didn’t try to make my escape now, I wouldn’t have another opportunity. I decided to rush him, remembering my brief stint in elementary school football. I sprinted toward him, ready to make the tackle. I came in low and wrapped my arms around his waist but he didn’t budge. I was stopped in my tracks as if he was made of stone, slamming my shoulder into rock hard flesh.
I stumbled back, gripping my aching shoulder. Why didn’t he move? Was this really how I was meant to die? I refused to accept it. I couldn’t allow myself to fall victim to this… thing.
“You cannot escape us.” He said, slowly stepping toward me.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder and whipped my head around to see the familiar large man covered in tattoos. The henchman who’d handed me the prospective poison. Rage billowed deep within his eyes, his mouth was turned up in a horrid scowl. The neon lighting of the room seemed to accent this rage, giving him a demonic, glowing aura.
I scanned the room in search of something… anything that I might be able to use to aid my escape, but there was nothing. The five others who had entered with me sat in their seats staring forward as if they didn’t realize the commotion happening around them.
“Hey!” I shouted, trying to get their attention as the large man tightened his grip on my shoulder and brought his other hand up to my opposite shoulder.
He had a grip on me like a vice, lifting me clear off my feet and dangling me in the air for a moment. I flailed my legs in a vain attempt to free myself from his grip. It was pointless, though. He was the size of a full grown ox, triple my weight, and he had a strong hold on me.
I stopped resisting for a moment and thought. The pressure bearing down on my chest and arms was shortening my breaths and clouding my mind. I couldn’t figure out how I would escape and had begun to accept my fate. I’d gotten in too far over my head.
Then, it hit me. The woman didn’t seem to be impervious like Morgue. I was able to land a swift punch to her face that she had yet to recover from. I looked over the large man’s shoulder, at the heap of bone and flesh on the floor. She panted, gripping at her face, but she did not stand.
I found myself in another dilemma, though. My arms were pinned to my sides, so landing a punch was out of the question.
Think… think! I told myself in my mind.
The thought came quickly, and I acted just as fast. I reared my leg back, winding up for a powerful kick before whipping it forward, as hard as I could. I felt the top part of my foot land hard in his crotch. Flesh collapsed under the force of my kick, and I saw the man’s expression quickly change. The fury left him, replaced by absolute agony.
He quickly released his grip on me and his hands found their way to his family jewels. He let out a groan and exhaled all the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground. I stumbled down, watching Morgue make a slow and methodical approach.
He walked by the heap of man on the floor, staring down at him with utter disgust.
“Pathetic…” he said through gritted teeth as he reared back and landed a kick. Morgue’s heavy boot connected with the man’s ribs and an inconceivably loud crunch echoed through the room, causing me to wince in repulsion.
It became clear to me then that Morgue had no sympathy for his “colleagues.” They were likely just people that he’d converted to his twisted religion. People who saw no other option than to do as they were told.
I looked back at the people, still seated and staring up at the wall. Their eyes were fixed on that glowing symbol on the wall behind where Morgue had made his dramatic introduction.
Then, something happened. Something I still can’t quite explain.
All at once, the people let out an exhausted breath. A glowing, misty cloud escaped each of their mouths and made its way to the front of the room, falling onto the painted symbol on the wall. It appeared to be pulling the mist into the center, as if it were some sort of vacuum. The glow pulsated, growing brighter then dimming, as it absorbed the cloud.
Then, as the last of it escaped their mouths, the people collapsed from their seats and laid in heaps on the ground. I stared in horror as their bodies quickly decayed before my eyes, turning into ash before collapsing into small mountains of grey dust that glowed under the club style lighting around me.
That… That could’ve been me… I thought, trembling in fear.
I turned my head and looked back at Morgue, who took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and letting a sinister grin stretch across his face from ear to ear. When he let the breath out and looked at me, a warm sensation spread across my front as my bladder emptied its contents from complete and utter fear.
His eyes glowed in their sockets. Not like your typical neon glow under a blacklight. No, they were bright red, like laser beams shooting from his eyes. His emaciated frame had suddenly filled out, his muscle nearly tripling in size, veins bulging from his chest and biceps. His trapezius swelled up, eliminating the appearance of a neck.
I couldn’t move. My legs simply would not take me to safety and instead, remained planted in place as the warm urine continued to spread across my jeans. Morgue continued to transform before my eyes. His hands became increasingly large, and his black fingernails, which I had previously assumed to be painted, grew into long, sharp talons.
Finally, my legs took what my brain told them to do and acted, but not in the way I expected. Rather than bolting for the door, they decided to slowly back away from this monster. Not a terrible move, I must say, but not the smartest.
I continued backing up, kicking metal folding chairs out of my way without taking my eyes off of the snarling beast before me. It appeared his terrifying and amazing transformation was complete and he had now locked eyes with me. My heart felt like it was going to jump up my throat and out of my mouth, beating crazily in my chest as the beast approached.
I felt myself back into something solid, a cool breeze shot up my back from below. The air conditioner, and the cool wall against my back was the window.
Morgue snarled inhumanly deep, squelching gurgles as he continued taking heavy, thumping steps toward me.
He stopped for a moment, just over arms length away from me.
A split second of silence. A brief thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d make it out alive. Maybe he would just let me leave.
That thought exited my mind quickly as he leapt forward, barreling straight at me with his steroid built body. His feet fell one over another, thundering below me and vibrating the carpeted floor beneath my feet.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment.
Then I felt it.
The stinging sensation of his claws digging into my torso. The vibrating pulsation of puncturing talons inserting themselves deep into my skin, making their way below layer after layer of skin until they found muscle and seated themselves into it.
The sound of shattering glass behind me as the window I was propped up against gave way, sending myself and Morgue plummeting twelve stories down.
We flipped through the air as my insides twisted and butterflies fluttered in my torso. Morgue still had his claws deep inside of my stomach, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything as the adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.
I could hear screams gaining volume below me, barely audible over the roar of wind invading my ears. I closed my eyes and came to grips with the reality that this was my demise. I stopped with a thud, air forcing its way out of my lungs before blacking out.
Small bits of consciousness came back to me violently. Flashes of incomprehensible pieces of reality interrupted by darkness.
The feeling of drowning, air being replaced by water inside of my lungs, a pulsating pressure on my sternum followed by oxygen forcing its way down my trachea. Flashing red lights and two men lifting my body off the ground.
When I finally awoke, my surroundings were foreign. Rhythmic beeping played in the background coupled with the intermittent hissing of oxygen purging itself from over-pressurized lines.
I looked around, squinting my eyes as the fluorescent lighting above me shone down. Intravenous fluid lines invaded my right arm. My left was wrapped in a hard cast. Aches in my back and chest caused my breathing to be short and labored. My mouth was impossibly dry, lips sticking together as I opened and tried to speak.
“Hello?” I said, forcing the words out in a gritty screech.
I was alone. An off-white thermal blanket draped over me as I laid, sprawled out on a hospital bed. One of the many monitors attached to me began beeping faster before someone finally entered. A woman in scrubs bearing a familiar comic book character symbol walked in.
“Oh, excellent!” she cheered in a tone that was all too chipper. “You’re awake. Your doctor will be so happy to hear that! How are you feeling?”
I could hear genuine concern in her tone, but didn’t know how to answer.
“Wha-” I started but was cut off.
“What happened?” She asked, assuming what I was thinking. “You fell twelve stories out of your hotel room. Luckily you went right into the pool and one of the brave, albeit drunk, guys downstairs was able to fish you out in time.”
I sat there for a moment, the look on my face that of pure confusion. Then, everything came back to me in a horrific flash. I felt my pulse speeding up as the panic began to flow freely through my veins. The monotonous beeping sped up, giving away my secret to the nurse.
“Woah, woah,” she said. “It’s okay. Just calm down a moment.”
She held her hands in front of her, palms out as if to say “don’t worry.” I could do anything but. Thoughts flowed freely through my mind. Where had Morgue gone? Would he be back?
My chest began to sting and throb as my breathing became heavier. I sighed and gasped in pain. The nurse seemed to read me like a book, making sense of my guttural noises.
“You’ve got a handful of broken ribs and some pretty serious puncture wounds across your chest. You need to take it easy. I’m going to give you a mild sedative. Just something to calm your nerves.”
She held up a needle before inserting it into the IV line sticking out of my arm. As she depressed the plunger, I felt the cold liquid spread through my veins. A few seconds later, the effects of the medicine became noticeable. She placed the syringe into a sharps bin before turning back to me and removing her rubber gloves.
“Your doctor will be in shortly.”
She smiled, turned and left the room. My mouth still felt like a desert, but I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep once again. A restful daze took its hold on me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.
Visions of Morgue making his daring and terrible transformation invaded my mind, sending me reeling in horror as the scene played out in my head once again. A disembodied voice that I hadn’t recognized repeated my name over and over again.
“Jona-ton?” he asked. “Jona-ton, are you awake?
He spoke with a hispanic accent, saying my name with the slightest inflection at the end.
My eyes shot open and relief washed over me as I realized I was still in the safety of the hospital room. A man was seated next to my bed. Dark complexion with black hair slicked back and a thick layer of scruff covering his chin.
“Buenas dias,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his clipboard. “How are you feeling?”
I struggled to speak through my dry mouth and the utter exhaustion I felt.
“Crappy,” I said in a raspy whisper.
“As expected,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle before continuing. “You fell nearly a hundred and twenty feet. You’re quite lucky to be alive. Can you tell me your name?”
“Yeah… ah,” I winced in pain as I attempted to prop myself up a bit. “Jonathon Winslow.” I said, struggling through the words as my squeaky voice grounded away in my throat.
“Good, Jona-ton. Now,” he straightened the glasses perched on his nose. “I am going to leave you here with Officer Black. She has a couple questions for you regarding how you fell from that window.”
He motioned towards the door where a small, petite woman entered the room. She wore a blue uniform adorned with a patch on her left shoulder that read “Las Vegas Police Department.” Her small nose, narrow eyes and darker complexion told me she was likely of Asian descent.
“Hello, mister Winslow.” She said, bringing a lime green clipboard up to her chest and jotting something down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her eyes jumped from the piece of green plastic she held and met my gaze. I knew she wouldn’t believe my story, but what else could I say? The nervousness was definitely showing on my face. If I didn’t choose my words carefully, I could be committed to some sort of psych ward or mental institution under the Baker Act, and I certainly didn’t belong there.
I pondered what could possibly go wrong if I just admitted why I’d gone there in the first place, and simply left out the part where Morgue turned into some sort of demonic monster. It wasn’t so far fetched to think I’d gone there searching for something to believe in and when I showed up, I was met with a group of psychopaths who ultimately tried to kill me before tossing me out the window.
I opted for that excuse which Officer Black seemed to have no trouble believing. I guess the stories about Vegas are true - anything goes in this city.
She took down a description of all three people, but I knew nothing would be done. There was nothing they could do. They didn’t have a real name, and from the clock on the wall I knew it was at least 9am, meaning they’d had 9 hours to make their escape.
She nodded, thanking me for the information, turned and exited.
The doctor entered once again and informed me that I would need a few tests. Being conscious would allow them to find brain damage easier, if there was any.
Aside from a somewhat minor concussion, several broken ribs, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds, I was ultimately given a clean bill of health. But what would I do? I was stuck in Vegas with no money, no car and no job waiting for me back home.
I left the hospital and found that it was surprisingly easy to secure a payday loan. It struck me as odd at first, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that a guy being stranded in Vegas with no car or money might be a pretty common scenario.
After securing a flight and making my way home, I finally felt safe. I could settle back into reality, knowing that the existence Morgue had preached about was non-existent. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of paranoia, though. The thought that everytime I looked over my shoulder or around a dark corner, Morgue would be there. His hulking figure and large talons ready to finish the job they’d started sent chills down my spine and anxiety gripping my chest.
Getting my job back was tough. Not because my boss didn’t want me back, but because I had to put my pride to the wayside and formulate a somewhat embarrassing lie. The look on his face changed in an instant.
At first he’d had a contemptuous look, eyebrows parallel and a frown smeared across his jaw, ready for me to get down on my knees and beg. But as soon as I told him that I’d quit because I was in a bad place mentally, and that I needed to get help, his expression shifted. His eyebrows raised in a state of concern, the frown, although still present, no longer conveyed contempt but worry.
“Oh, Jonathon. I’m sorry, man…” He’d told me, eyes darting around his head like a madman. “You’re welcome back here as soon as you can. Take a few days to yourself and then we’ll see you back here on… say, Monday?”
I smiled, unsure of what to say other than:
“Sounds good, thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
I turned and walked out after a quick handshake, the feeling of accomplishment forming a victorious smirk on my face. Things were back to normal. My weekend was insane, but now I could settle back into the norm.
A few weeks passed. Things were going as good as they could, but that empty feeling had begun to return. I could feel myself falling back into a slump.
Browsing through facebook seemed to be my time waster of choice. Scrolling through and liking photos, laughing internally at memes, watching short videos of people doing dumb stuff that ultimately resulted in them being hurt. Typical internet stuff.
Then, I saw it. That androgynous man, no eye brows. Long, white-blonde hair draped over his face in matted, wet strands. He stared into the camera, speaking familiar teachings. Things about how to control the universe - how to make it work in your favor.
I wouldn’t be tempted this time, though. I knew his secret. I knew what his endgame was.
I tapped my thumb on the profile picture associated with Morgue, taking me to an archive of all his videos. Some familiar, some new. I didn’t watch them, though. I simply clicked the “more options” tab, scrolled to the bottom of the menu and clicked “Block User.”
submitted by jonthomas2692 to nosleep [link] [comments]

Words and frequencies across all lyrics

Bit of a pointless post but something I was curious about. Combining all the lyrics from DCFC songs Ben has written, here are all the words used and the frequency of them.
834 the 587 and 479 you 432 i 369 a 356 to 264 in 235 of 180 that 175 your 148 it 146 all 144 me 141 so 140 on 135 my 132 we 125 be 123 but 121 for 119 as 116 when 114 was 113 with 110 is 107 this 100 are 85 no 84 they 82 it's 77 there 77 from 76 our 76 like 72 there's 69 know 68 will 66 what 64 just 61 you're 61 love 61 at 60 can't 59 don't 57 if 56 never 56 gold 54 were 54 rush 54 down 52 time 52 through 50 nothing 49 i'm 48 away 47 out 47 not 46 have 46 could 44 oh 43 where 43 way 42 into 41 'cause 40 heart 39 same 39 one 38 then 38 only 37 how 37 every 36 see 36 i'll 35 would 34 some 32 more 31 up 31 find 30 been 30 back 29 their 28 won't 28 why 28 here 28 do 27 who 27 or 27 can 26 now 26 by 26 an 25 stay 25 new 25 got 25 go 24 sun 24 something 24 she 24 little 24 feel 24 around 23 you'll 23 sunlight 23 open 23 night 23 i've 23 always 22 used 22 home 22 had 21 you've 21 us 21 than 21 said 21 didn't 20 wanderer 20 too 20 let 20 left 20 keep 20 he 20 days 19 they're 19 long 19 both 19 about 18 think 18 them 18 sound 18 say 18 make 18 lines 18 life 18 hold 18 eyes 18 end 18 change 18 boys 17 want 17 these 17 off 17 loved 17 his 17 cause 17 before 16 someone 16 skin 16 past 16 need 16 gotta 16 am 15 we'll 15 waiting 15 take 15 spend 15 remain 15 ooh 15 head 15 far 15 fall 15 doors 14 true 14 that's 14 tell 14 place 14 people 14 mind 14 inside 14 hear 14 alone 13 underneath 13 turn 13 things 13 sea 13 old 13 move 13 morning 13 man 13 live 13 last 13 i'd 13 get 13 fool 13 did 13 behind 13 air 13 again 12 words 12 unlocked 12 trying 12 took 12 told 12 thought 12 much 12 many 12 friends 12 ever 12 come 12 along 11 thing 11 still 11 slowly 11 sky 11 should 11 seems 11 remember 11 look 11 light 11 her 11 haunted 11 hard 11 free 11 everything 11 digging 11 black 11 bed 10 years 10 year 10 well 10 those 10 such 10 street 10 slow 10 room 10 monday 10 modern 10 knew 10 hope 10 getting 10 face 10 even 10 empty 10 drive 10 dream 10 day 10 dark 10 came 10 best 10 age 9 wonder 9 we're 9 under 9 turned 9 town 9 thinking 9 someday 9 side 9 safe 9 possess 9 once 9 ocean 9 near 9 moved 9 meet 9 lying 9 kept 9 help 9 hands 9 fire 9 finally 9 door 9 distance 9 disappeared 9 city 9 begin 9 beautiful 9 anymore 8 windows 8 while 8 truth 8 tried 8 tonight 8 speak 8 soul 8 right 8 please 8 pity 8 mouth 8 mirror 8 mean 8 leaving 8 lead 8 kind 8 hole 8 gonna 8 glass 8 give 8 floor 8 fading 8 fade 8 everyone 8 ending 8 cannot 8 burning 8 burn 8 break 7 young 7 you'd 7 worse 7 within 7 wish 7 wind 7 wha 7 walls 7 walking 7 until 7 tears 7 standing 7 speed 7 sometimes 7 sleep 7 quite 7 own 7 over 7 oo 7 name 7 motion 7 mine 7 may 7 making 7 lonely 7 leave 7 ho 7 hand 7 ground 7 gives 7 filled 7 fear 7 dreamt 7 different 7 debris 7 cool 7 body 7 better 7 being 7 ask 7 arms 7 anything 7 alright 7 alive 7 'til 6 yet 6 upon 6 two 6 try 6 today 6 times 6 thread 6 talking 6 takes 6 synapse 6 sycamore 6 summer 6 stop 6 start 6 stars 6 spoke 6 soon 6 sleeping 6 single 6 play 6 paper 6 nothing's 6 names 6 myself 6 mess 6 memories 6 made 6 looking 6 lights 6 its 6 higher 6 hearts 6 he's 6 has 6 half 6 grows 6 gone 6 girls 6 ghosts 6 full 6 found 6 first 6 felt 6 feeling 6 fast 6 ends 6 else 6 el 6 either 6 each 6 dorado 6 document 6 couldn't 6 clothes 6 closer 6 clear 6 call 6 california 6 built 6 bring 6 brain 6 belly 6 believe 6 bah 6 bad 6 baa 6 awake 6 another 6 against 5 yourself 5 yes 5 work 5 window 5 went 5 watching 5 watch 5 wasn't 5 wanted 5 wait 5 turns 5 together 5 three 5 thin 5 tangled 5 talk 5 taken 5 swim 5 summer's 5 stage 5 song 5 somewhere 5 shoulders 5 shoes 5 set 5 seem 5 screaming 5 scene 5 saw 5 save 5 sad 5 roll 5 revolved 5 read 5 rain 5 put 5 pretend 5 pass 5 parallel 5 nue 5 must 5 moving 5 mistakes 5 mistake 5 meets 5 lovers 5 lost 5 lose 5 listen 5 lips 5 line 5 late 5 kid 5 ing 5 hotel 5 hides 5 held 5 heaven 5 grow 5 gotten 5 goodbye 5 gave 5 gates 5 frame 5 followed 5 follow 5 faster 5 fair 5 faces 5 expect 5 enough 5 engine 5 dying 5 drunk 5 dress 5 dancing 5 cut 5 cruel 5 cracks 5 concrete 5 compromise 5 close 5 cars 5 buildings 5 broken 5 binds 5 between 5 beside 5 bend 5 below 5 began 5 because 5 beast 5 any 5 angeles 5 above 4 yeah 4 wrong 4 worth 4 without 4 winter 4 who's 4 white 4 which 4 wheel 4 wedding 4 water 4 wanna 4 walked 4 waited 4 view 4 vast 4 twisting 4 travels 4 thinner 4 teeth 4 steel 4 started 4 squeaking 4 space 4 softly 4 smoke 4 skyline 4 simply 4 silence 4 sent 4 sense 4 s 4 run 4 rooms 4 road 4 return 4 rest 4 reach 4 plays 4 perfect 4 outside 4 other 4 occurred 4 northern 4 nights 4 news 4 mountain 4 miles 4 met 4 machine 4 los 4 looked 4 less 4 leaves 4 learned 4 lay 4 known 4 keeps 4 ivory 4 information 4 ice 4 hurricane 4 houses 4 house 4 holding 4 him 4 hills 4 highway 4 guns 4 guess 4 gets 4 forget 4 forever 4 flows 4 flames 4 fingers 4 filling 4 father 4 farther 4 fact 4 everybody 4 escape 4 embrace 4 earth 4 dreams 4 doubt 4 done 4 dear 4 darkened 4 crawling 4 condescending 4 comfort 4 clouds 4 closed 4 climbed 4 climb 4 clean 4 child 4 car 4 cameras 4 calling 4 brothers 4 boy 4 bound 4 bones 4 blinding 4 blame 4 beneath 4 awoke 4 autumn 4 after 3 youth 3 yours 3 world 3 working 3 worked 3 word 3 wine 3 wife 3 what's 3 weeks 3 we'd 3 wave 3 watched 3 warm 3 wander 3 vultures 3 very 3 vacancy 3 understand 3 type 3 twin 3 trust 3 top 3 tired 3 tiny 3 though 3 thinks 3 tether 3 television 3 taste 3 tall 3 sweet 3 swallowed 3 surround 3 supposed 3 strong 3 streets 3 stranger 3 storm 3 stood 3 stays 3 stayed 3 station 3 static 3 stare 3 stand 3 stable 3 spread 3 spent 3 speaks 3 snow 3 smaller 3 slip 3 slept 3 skies 3 size 3 sink 3 singing 3 signs 3 sights 3 shroud 3 shared 3 series 3 self 3 second 3 seat 3 seasons 3 searching 3 school 3 saved 3 satisfied 3 runs 3 running 3 rubble 3 river 3 rhythm 3 remains 3 remainder 3 regret 3 reflection 3 recall 3 really 3 re 3 rather 3 rainy 3 promises 3 possibilities 3 plates 3 plastic 3 planned 3 plan 3 plain 3 places 3 placed 3 part 3 others 3 ones 3 nowhere 3 noise 3 neighborhood 3 music 3 mother 3 monument 3 mistress 3 meant 3 matter 3 maps 3 makes 3 lover 3 lookin' 3 longer 3 lie 3 learn 3 lake 3 lack 3 kissed 3 kids 3 keeping 3 isn't 3 island 3 inaccurately 3 illuminate 3 hunger 3 hung 3 hours 3 horizon 3 hell 3 hang 3 grid 3 grey 3 grass 3 good 3 gon' 3 glued 3 front 3 four 3 fly 3 fish 3 feet 3 familiar 3 falls 3 failure 3 failing 3 explain 3 eventually 3 endless 3 embarks 3 echoes 3 easy 3 east 3 early 3 drown 3 double 3 doing 3 discover 3 died 3 die 3 diamond 3 design 3 defeated 3 defeat 3 deep 3 decide 3 death 3 countless 3 counting 3 count 3 comes 3 collide 3 cold 3 cloud 3 claim 3 cigarette 3 children 3 changes 3 ceiling 3 care 3 burst 3 brown 3 bright 3 breathe 3 bought 3 bottle 3 born 3 bodies 3 blurs 3 bird 3 become 3 became 3 beach 3 bar 3 band 3 astound 3 asleep 3 apartment 3 anywhere 3 ain't 3 ago 3 across 3 'no's 2 york 2 wreckage 2 worry 2 winter's 2 win 2 wild 2 wide 2 whose 2 whole 2 whiskey 2 weight 2 weathered 2 we've 2 waving 2 wash 2 wants 2 waking 2 wake 2 waitresses 2 vows 2 voice 2 vine 2 views 2 veins 2 upstate 2 untrustable 2 unobstructed 2 unfold 2 underground 2 unconscious 2 twos 2 twenty 2 tv 2 turning 2 truths 2 tripped 2 towards 2 touching 2 touch 2 tongue 2 tones 2 tires 2 tire 2 till 2 tied 2 ticking 2 thrown 2 threw 2 threes 2 thousands 2 thousand 2 they've 2 there'd 2 ten 2 technicolor 2 tear 2 taking 2 synchronized 2 symphony 2 sworn 2 swift 2 swept 2 sweat 2 sure 2 superhero 2 suit 2 strobe 2 strange 2 stranded 2 straight 2 store 2 stopped 2 stones 2 stomach 2 step 2 states 2 state 2 starts 2 starting 2 stands 2 stake 2 stairs 2 stacked 2 st 2 sputters 2 spring 2 splinter 2 spit 2 sphere 2 speaking 2 spat 2 spark 2 son 2 something's 2 someone's 2 soaring 2 smugded 2 smiling 2 smile 2 smell 2 slipping 2 slightest 2 slide 2 skid 2 six 2 sitting 2 sit 2 sings 2 silver 2 signed 2 sign 2 sifting 2 shrugged 2 show 2 shouldn't 2 shore 2 shift 2 shed 2 share 2 shards 2 shallow 2 shake 2 shadows 2 settling 2 setting 2 sets 2 separate 2 sees 2 seen 2 seemed 2 security 2 secrets 2 season 2 scream 2 scraping 2 scenes 2 sand 2 safety 2 rows 2 routine 2 role 2 roads 2 rhythms 2 resolve 2 repeat 2 renewed 2 remained 2 refrain 2 refine 2 red 2 record 2 recognize 2 reason 2 real 2 reading 2 reaction 2 reaching 2 ravine 2 railroad 2 radio 2 quietly 2 quiet 2 question 2 queen 2 pushing 2 push 2 pursuit 2 pulling 2 pulled 2 pull 2 prove 2 potential 2 portable 2 poor 2 point 2 piles 2 pile 2 picked 2 photographs 2 photobooth 2 photo 2 phone 2 peter's 2 perspective 2 peace 2 pavement 2 patterns 2 passing 2 passenger 2 parlor 2 pane 2 pages 2 packed 2 pack 2 pace 2 oxygen 2 overloads 2 overcoat 2 outrun 2 optimist 2 notes 2 network 2 nervous 2 needs 2 neck 2 morse 2 moment 2 misleading 2 mile 2 metal 2 message 2 mention 2 men 2 memory 2 melody 2 markers 2 map 2 magazines 2 losing 2 lonesome 2 living 2 let's 2 led 2 lawn 2 laughed 2 language 2 knows 2 knots 2 knock 2 killing 2 keys 2 jury 2 judge 2 jar 2 isolation 2 iron 2 invitation 2 intermittent 2 intentions 2 instincts 2 ingested 2 infinite 2 image 2 idealistic 2 hour 2 honest 2 homes 2 holds 2 hint 2 hill 2 hedgerows 2 heard 2 headlights 2 he'd 2 hardly 2 hardest 2 hair 2 guiding 2 guide 2 growing 2 grouped 2 greys 2 grave 2 granted 2 going 2 goes 2 god 2 glasses 2 giving 2 given 2 girl 2 gilded 2 ghost 2 further 2 furniture 2 funny 2 frost 2 friend 2 freeways 2 forward 2 foreign 2 foolish 2 fluorescent 2 flights 2 flight 2 flickering 2 flicker 2 five 2 fits 2 fit 2 fine 2 final 2 film 2 fill 2 figured 2 field 2 fiction 2 few 2 fences 2 fell 2 fearful 2 favorite 2 fault 2 faucet 2 family 2 false 2 falling 2 faithful 2 eye 2 except 2 evergreen 2 evening 2 entered 2 engulfed 2 easily 2 ears 2 ear 2 dusty 2 drowned 2 drove 2 drop 2 droop 2 driving 2 drinks 2 drinking 2 drilled 2 dressed 2 dollar 2 doesn't 2 does 2 dive 2 distracted 2 disorderly 2 disappointment 2 disappear 2 directions 2 details 2 desert 2 depths 2 deepest 2 decided 2 december 2 dealers 2 dead 2 daylight 2 date's 2 darling 2 darkest 2 darker 2 damn 2 cycle 2 curtain 2 cursed 2 currency 2 cup 2 crystal 2 cry 2 crowns 2 cross 2 crippling 2 crimes 2 crashing 2 country 2 conversations 2 construction 2 constant 2 coney 2 complications 2 completely 2 command 2 colors 2 color 2 coldest 2 code 2 coat 2 coast 2 clarity 2 circles 2 cigarettes 2 choice 2 chemicals 2 cheap 2 chattered 2 chase 2 chance 2 catholic 2 cathedral 2 cath 2 catches 2 carried 2 cans 2 candle 2 camera 2 cake 2 busy 2 bus 2 build 2 brownstone 2 brow 2 broke 2 bridges 2 bridge 2 bricks 2 bow 2 bounce 2 bottom 2 bored 2 book 2 blues 2 blue 2 bleed 2 beverly 2 bent 2 belong 2 believed 2 beginning 2 becomes 2 beauty 2 beat 2 bastard 2 ball 2 bags 2 baggage 2 backwards 2 backbone 2 aware 2 atmosphere 2 atlas 2 atlantic 2 assume 2 askew 2 arrived 2 applause 2 apologies 2 apart 2 anyone 2 anticipation's 2 answer 2 amputating 2 already 2 almost 2 alleys 2 alcohol 2 advancing 2 advances 2 admit 2 address 2 accident 1 zone 1 zeros 1 zentropic 1 z 1 youthful 1 youngest 1 yearning 1 yearn 1 yard 1 wrote 1 wrongs 1 written 1 writing 1 write 1 wrinkles 1 wrinkled 1 wretched 1 wrecking 1 wrap 1 wounds 1 worthwhile 1 worst 1 worn 1 works 1 workadays 1 wore 1 wool 1 wood 1 woken 1 woke 1 withered 1 wished 1 wires 1 wintery 1 winners 1 window's 1 winded 1 willow 1 whom 1 whispers 1 whenever 1 wheezed 1 wheels 1 wet 1 weights 1 weightless 1 weigh 1 week 1 weave 1 weather 1 weary 1 wearing 1 wealthy 1 weak 1 ways 1 waves 1 water's 1 wasting 1 wasted 1 waste 1 washes 1 warn 1 warming 1 war 1 wall 1 walk 1 waits 1 vowels 1 volume 1 voices 1 vision 1 violent 1 villain 1 vile 1 vicious 1 vessels 1 vessel 1 versus 1 verse 1 vengeful 1 vending 1 veiled 1 vase 1 varies 1 variables 1 van 1 valleys 1 valley 1 vacant 1 uv 1 using 1 urge 1 urban 1 upwards 1 upstream 1 upside 1 upcoming 1 unwired 1 unseen 1 unresponsive 1 unknown 1 uninspired 1 unfounded 1 undone 1 underwhelming 1 understood 1 understated 1 unconditionally 1 umbrate 1 twists 1 twine 1 twilight 1 twice 1 tvs 1 turnstile 1 tunnels 1 tunneled 1 tunnel 1 truly 1 trudged 1 trouble 1 trend 1 tree 1 treble 1 treasures 1 treacherous 1 travel 1 trapped 1 transistor 1 trains 1 train 1 trailed 1 tragic 1 traffic 1 trades 1 traded 1 track 1 tracing 1 towers 1 tower 1 towed 1 tourists 1 tourist 1 tour 1 touched 1 toss 1 tortured 1 tomorrow 1 tombs 1 tokyo 1 toes 1 toe 1 timony 1 timely 1 til 1 tight 1 tide 1 tidal 1 thus 1 thursday 1 thumb 1 thses 1 throwing 1 throat 1 thoughts 1 thirty 1 thirteen 1 thinning 1 thicker 1 thickening 1 they'll 1 they'd 1 theme 1 thanksgiving 1 th 1 terrified 1 tenderly 1 temptation 1 temporary 1 tempo 1 tells 1 telling 1 telescope 1 teen 1 teachers 1 teach 1 taught 1 tattered 1 tasting 1 tastes 1 target 1 tapped 1 tape 1 tank 1 tangles 1 tan's 1 tamed 1 tame 1 tallest 1 taillights 1 tabloid 1 tables 1 swore 1 swings 1 swinging 1 swinger 1 swiftest 1 sweep 1 sweaters 1 swear 1 sway 1 survive 1 surprised 1 surprise 1 surfaced 1 surface 1 super 1 sunk 1 sung 1 sunday 1 summers 1 sum 1 suited 1 sugary 1 suffered 1 sufferance 1 suddenly 1 suburbs 1 suburban 1 subcompact 1 styrofoam 1 stutter 1 stung 1 stumbling 1 stumbled 1 stumble 1 studies 1 stuck 1 strung 1 strumming 1 struggle 1 stripped 1 strings 1 stretch 1 strength 1 streaks 1 streaking 1 strands 1 strain 1 story 1 stormed 1 stopping 1 stocking 1 sting 1 stick 1 stenches 1 steered 1 steeple 1 stature 1 stated 1 starves 1 stared 1 stamped 1 stained 1 stain 1 staggering 1 squid 1 squeezed 1 squeeze 1 squeaky 1 squares 1 springtime 1 springs 1 split 1 splicing 1 spinsters 1 spine 1 spilt 1 spending 1 speeding 1 speech 1 sped 1 spectrum's 1 speck 1 span 1 souvenirs 1 southern 1 south 1 soused 1 sour 1 sounds 1 soundly 1 sounded 1 sorry 1 sorrow 1 songs 1 solutions 1 solution 1 soles 1 solely 1 soldier 1 sold 1 soil 1 soft 1 soaking 1 snub 1 snowing 1 sneaky 1 sneaking 1 smoking 1 smiles 1 smells 1 small 1 slurring 1 slur 1 slot 1 slopes 1 slips 1 slippery 1 slick 1 slew 1 sleeves 1 sledding 1 slate 1 slander 1 slammin' 1 slacks 1 skyscrapers 1 skip 1 skinny 1 skills 1 sites 1 sip's 1 sins 1 singe 1 sing 1 since 1 simpler 1 similarity 1 silverstones 1 silken 1 silhouette 1 silenced 1 signals 1 sighted 1 sight 1 sides 1 sick 1 shutters 1 shut 1 shuffling 1 shrouded 1 shrine 1 shower 1 shovels 1 shop 1 shooting 1 shivers 1 shirt 1 shining 1 shines 1 shine 1 shifts 1 shield 1 shelf 1 sheets 1 sheen 1 shebang 1 shaved 1 shasta 1 shaking 1 shakedown 1 shades 1 shackles 1 sewing 1 seven 1 servers 1 seriously 1 sentence 1 sending 1 send 1 sell 1 selfless 1 seek 1 seeds 1 secret's 1 seas 1 seams 1 scripted 1 scrimped 1 screams 1 schemes 1 scent 1 scarves 1 scarf 1 scale 1 scaffolding 1 says 1 satellites 1 sat 1 sarcastic 1 sarah 1 sappiest 1 sang 1 san 1 saltwater 1 salivating 1 saddens 1 sacred 1 rusted 1 rushed 1 runway 1 rules 1 rule 1 rubber 1 royal 1 row 1 round 1 rotten 1 roman 1 roller 1 rocks 1 rock 1 robot 1 rises 1 ring 1 rights 1 righteous 1 ridge 1 ride 1 revisions 1 returns 1 returning 1 retreat 1 restrictions 1 restlessness 1 restless 1 response 1 resort 1 resolutions 1 resigned 1 resignation 1 reside 1 rescue 1 requiem 1 repressed 1 reports 1 reporting 1 replaced 1 repetition 1 repeats 1 repeating 1 rented 1 reminder 1 remind 1 remembering 1 relief 1 relax 1 reject 1 regardless 1 regal 1 refused 1 refined 1 reeling 1 reeks 1 reeked 1 reduces 1 redemptions 1 records 1 recollect 1 receptors 1 recently 1 receipts 1 receded 1 rearrange 1 realize 1 ready 1 react 1 rays 1 rationed 1 rate's 1 rank 1 ranges 1 random 1 raising 1 raise 1 rail 1 raggedy 1 radios 1 racket 1 quitting 1 quit 1 quips 1 quell 1 queens 1 quarry 1 quarreling 1 pushes 1 purpose 1 purity 1 punks 1 punk 1 pumping 1 pulp 1 proves 1 protect 1 propping 1 proposing 1 proof 1 promise 1 procession 1 problems 1 pristine 1 priest 1 pride 1 prices 1 prevail 1 pretty 1 pretentious 1 pretending 1 pre 1 prayers 1 prayer 1 praising 1 postcards 1 postcard 1 possoibilities 1 possible 1 possibility's 1 position 1 pose 1 porch 1 population's 1 pools 1 politics 1 pointed 1 poets 1 pockets 1 pocket 1 plymouth 1 plumes 1 plots 1 plot 1 plenty 1 pleasantries 1 pleas 1 plea 1 playing 1 playful 1 plate 1 plaster 1 plans 1 plaguing 1 plague 1 pixels 1 piss 1 pink 1 pinhole 1 pinch 1 pillow 1 pillars 1 pigtails 1 pier 1 pieces 1 pictures 1 picture 1 picks 1 picket 1 phrases 1 photos 1 phones'll 1 pews 1 person 1 permission 1 permanence 1 perforated 1 perfectly 1 perfection 1 pension 1 penance 1 pen 1 peered 1 peeled 1 peel 1 peak 1 payroll 1 payment 1 payin' 1 paycheck 1 patrons 1 patio 1 patiently 1 passes 1 passed 1 partyline 1 party 1 parts 1 parks 1 parking 1 parked 1 paris 1 parents' 1 parents 1 parent 1 parapet 1 par 1 panic 1 pangs 1 palms 1 palisades 1 pale 1 painted 1 paint 1 paid 1 page 1 packing 1 pacers 1 overturns 1 overturned 1 overrated 1 overpass 1 overloaded 1 overjoyed 1 overflow 1 overcome 1 outstretched 1 outdo 1 outdated 1 ottoman 1 organ 1 orderly 1 opinions 1 opened 1 oozed 1 onto 1 onset 1 one's 1 oncoming 1 olympia 1 older 1 offense 1 occur 1 occupy 1 obscure 1 objectively 1 nurse 1 numbs 1 numbers 1 note 1 non 1 noises 1 nice 1 next 1 newsstand 1 nerve 1 neighbors 1 needle 1 needed 1 nearby 1 navy 1 natural 1 named 1 mute 1 murals 1 moviescript 1 movement 1 mourning 1 motor 1 mothers 1 mother's 1 most 1 mopped 1 moonlight 1 moon 1 moods 1 monuments 1 months 1 money 1 model 1 mock 1 moat 1 mittens 1 misspellings 1 mississippi 1 mission 1 missing 1 missed 1 misguided 1 mirrored 1 mirages 1 minor 1 mined 1 minds 1 minces 1 millions 1 might 1 midnight 1 midday 1 microchip 1 messes 1 messenger 1 messaged 1 mend 1 memory's 1 melt 1 mellow 1 medians 1 medals 1 measly 1 meaningless 1 meaning 1 maze 1 mattress 1 math 1 mates 1 match 1 masterfully 1 master 1 mary 1 mark 1 marching 1 march 1 manuscript 1 manhattan 1 mangled 1 malls 1 makeshift 1 major 1 main 1 mail 1 magistrate's 1 magazine 1 machines 1 ma 1 m 1 lustrous 1 lust 1 lushing 1 lungs 1 lump 1 luck 1 loyal 1 lowered 1 loves 1 lovely 1 love's 1 lousy 1 loud 1 lot 1 losses 1 loosened 1 loose 1 longest 1 lodged 1 locusts 1 lock 1 loan 1 lives 1 lived 1 lipstick 1 likes 1 lighting 1 lighthouses 1 lighthouse 1 lifts 1 lifetime 1 lies 1 levitate 1 letting 1 letters 1 letter 1 lesson 1 lenses 1 lens 1 lengthwise 1 length 1 lend 1 legal 1 least 1 lean 1 leaks 1 lcd 1 lazy 1 layered 1 laughing 1 laugh 1 lattice 1 latitude 1 lathe 1 later 1 lanes 1 landlocked 1 lamp 1 lame 1 lain 1 laid 1 lady 1 ladder 1 labor 1 knuckles 1 knew' 1 knees 1 knee 1 kiss 1 kings 1 king 1 kinda 1 killed 1 kill 1 kicks 1 kicker 1 kick 1 keyed 1 key 1 kaleidoscope 1 justified 1 junctions 1 jump 1 judgement 1 joylessly 1 join 1 johns 1 jet 1 jealousy 1 jealous 1 jamc 1 jailhouse 1 jacket 1 itself 1 it'll 1 isolations 1 isle 1 islands 1 irreverence 1 irresponsible 1 irrationally 1 invited 1 invincible 1 inventions 1 interstate 1 intersected 1 interest 1 intentioned 1 intentionally 1 integrity 1 innocence 1 inlet 1 ink 1 inhibitions 1 inhale 1 inflicted 1 inflating 1 indoors 1 indicating 1 increasing 1 incomparable 1 incessant 1 impulse 1 impressed 1 impossiblity 1 important 1 impending 1 imagination 1 illegible 1 ignore 1 idle 1 ideals 1 ideal 1 idea 1 icu 1 hurts 1 hurry 1 hunted 1 hunt 1 hundred 1 humid 1 hum 1 hues 1 hudson 1 huddle 1 hovers 1 hot 1 horrible 1 hoping 1 hood 1 homily 1 homemade 1 homeland 1 home's 1 holly 1 hitched 1 hit 1 hipsters 1 hips 1 highways 1 high 1 hide 1 hidden 1 heros 1 hermit 1 here's 1 helplessly 1 helpless 1 hello 1 heavens 1 heavenly 1 heat 1 heart's 1 heal 1 heading 1 haven't 1 haunts 1 hated 1 harm 1 hardwood 1 harder 1 happier 1 happen 1 hammer 1 hallway 1 hadn't 1 habits 1 habit 1 gutters 1 gutter 1 gust 1 gun 1 guestroom 1 guenivere 1 grown 1 group 1 grounding 1 grooves 1 greyhounds 1 greyhound 1 grettings 1 greetings 1 greet 1 greenery 1 greed 1 greater 1 gray 1 gravitated 1 graves 1 gravel 1 grasp 1 grapevines 1 granite 1 grand 1 grace 1 grabbed 1 gossip 1 goodnight 1 goodbyes 1 glowed 1 glow 1 glove 1 gloomy 1 glitches 1 glimpses 1 gleam 1 glared 1 glances 1 glacial 1 girlie 1 girl's 1 gift 1 giants 1 geography 1 generator's 1 gears 1 gas 1 garbage 1 game 1 gallows 1 gag 1 furrowed 1 fund 1 fumbling 1 fulfilled 1 fuel 1 frozen 1 frowns 1 fronts 1 frolicked 1 fringe 1 frightfully 1 frighteningly 1 frightened 1 friction 1 freshest 1 freeway 1 freckles 1 francisco 1 framing 1 framed 1 fragile 1 foul 1 forwards 1 forth 1 former 1 formed 1 formal 1 forgiveness 1 forewarned 1 footsteps 1 fooled 1 fonder 1 follows 1 folds 1 folding 1 focusing 1 flying 1 flushed 1 flowers 1 flow 1 floors 1 floorboard 1 floes 1 floating 1 flinging 1 fleeting 1 flee 1 fled 1 flaw 1 flattered 1 flatlands 1 flat 1 flashes 1 flashbulbs 1 firsts 1 firm 1 firemen 1 firecrackers 1 finish 1 fingertips 1 fingertip 1 finds 1 finding 1 filthy 1 filter 1 films 1 figurines 1 figures 1 fields 1 fictions 1 fiberoptics 1 fence 1 feed 1 federales 1 fed 1 features 1 feathers 1 fears 1 faulty 1 fate 1 faraway 1 fantasies 1 fanned 1 fallen 1 faking 1 fake 1 faith 1 fail 1 fabric 1 expressions 1 explosions 1 explode 1 explanation 1 expense 1 expel 1 exit 1 exist 1 excuses 1 excited 1 exceptionally 1 exactly 1 everywhere 1 everytime 1 everything's 1 everyday 1 eroding 1 erasing 1 envy 1 envisioned 1 entertained 1 entertain 1 engaged 1 energy 1 endure 1 endlessly 1 encapsulate 1 employee 1 embers 1 embarrassed 1 else's 1 elegantly 1 elegant 1 eiffel 1 egos 1 edge 1 echo 1 eastern 1 dyes 1 dust 1 dumpster 1 dumping 1 dummy 1 dug 1 due 1 dry 1 drunks 1 drum 1 driveway 1 drips 1 drink 1 dresser 1 dreadful 1 drawn 1 drawers 1 drank 1 drama 1 drained 1 drag 1 downturn 1 downslide 1 dotted 1 doom 1 donor 1 dj's 1 divulge 1 division 1 divide 1 distorting 1 dissolving 1 dissolve 1 disruption 1 disputed 1 display 1 dishes 1 disguise 1 disgrace 1 discouraged 1 disconnect 1 disclosure 1 disarray 1 disappearing 1 dirty 1 dirt 1 direness 1 direction 1 dipping 1 dip 1 dinner 1 diminishing 1 diffusing 1 differences 1 difference 1 diet 1 dies 1 dialogs 1 devouring 1 devour 1 devoted 1 destroy 1 destinations 1 destination 1 desperate 1 despair 1 desire 1 deserted 1 descending 1 descended 1 deposit 1 depend 1 denver 1 demons 1 delicate 1 degrees 1 degraded 1 definitely 1 defined 1 define 1 defense 1 defacing 1 deeper 1 deem 1 deck 1 december's 1 deceive 1 deceit 1 decades 1 debt 1 debate 1 dealt 1 dazzling 1 daydreaming 1 dawn 1 daughter's 1 date 1 dash 1 darlin' 1 dangerous 1 dancehall 1 danced 1 dam 1 dakotas 1 cutthroat 1 cuts 1 cute 1 curtains 1 cursing 1 curse 1 current 1 curled 1 cups 1 cupped 1 culver 1 cue 1 crying 1 crust 1 crumbling 1 crumbled 1 crossing 1 crosses 1 crooked 1 crimson 1 crest 1 creek 1 creases 1 creaping 1 cranes 1 cracked 1 crack 1 courting 1 course 1 council's 1 could've 1 corrupting 1 correct 1 cornerbooth 1 core 1 cord 1 convince 1 conviction 1 control 1 continue 1 contest 1 contact 1 constellations 1 constantly 1 console 1 consequence 1 conscious 1 connections 1 congregation 1 confused 1 conduit 1 condos 1 conclude 1 conception 1 concept 1 comprise 1 compress 1 compliment 1 compete 1 compartment 1 compared 1 compare 1 company 1 committing 1 coming 1 comfortable 1 combing 1 colored 1 collision 1 collegiate 1 collapsing 1 colder 1 codes 1 cocktail 1 coats 1 coaster 1 coalinga 1 clove 1 cloth 1 closing 1 cliffs 1 clearly 1 cleansing 1 cleaning 1 classes 1 clasped 1 clanking 1 cityscapes 1 churches 1 church 1 chose 1 chords 1 choose 1 choking 1 choke 1 chock 1 chitter 1 chill 1 childish 1 chicago 1 chest 1 cherry 1 cheer 1 cheeks 1 checked 1 chatter 1 chased 1 charming 1 charmed 1 charity 1 changing 1 changed 1 champagne 1 chalks 1 century 1 centered 1 center 1 cemetery 1 celestial 1 caving 1 cave 1 causing 1 caught 1 catch 1 casualty 1 casual 1 castle 1 cast 1 casino 1 casing 1 case 1 cascading 1 cartoon 1 carry 1 carpet 1 carousel 1 carnival 1 cardigan 1 card 1 capturing 1 captured 1 capture 1 capsizing 1 capsize 1 caps 1 capable 1 cap 1 canyon 1 candid 1 calls 1 called 1 californ 1 calgary 1 cage 1 cafeteria 1 cabin 1 buzzers 1 buying 1 buy 1 butt 1 bury 1 bursting 1 burns 1 buried 1 burden 1 bumper 1 bumming 1 bum 1 bullets 1 bruises 1 bruised 1 bruise 1 brows 1 brought 1 brooklyn 1 brittle 1 bringing 1 brilliant 1 brightly 1 brightest 1 bride 1 bribes 1 breed 1 breaths 1 breathing 1 breath 1 breaking 1 breach 1 braved 1 brave 1 brand 1 brainstem 1 brainless 1 brain's 1 bracing 1 brace 1 boy's 1 boxers 1 box 1 bowties 1 boundaries 1 boulevard 1 bough 1 bottoms 1 bottles 1 bottle's 1 borders 1 bold 1 bodies' 1 bob 1 boats 1 blustery 1 blurred 1 blur 1 bluffs 1 bluer 1 bluebird 1 blossoms 1 blooms 1 blooming 1 blood 1 bloc 1 blissful 1 blips 1 blink 1 blinds 1 blinded 1 blew 1 blessings 1 bless 1 bleeding 1 bled 1 blatant 1 blasting 1 blanks 1 blank 1 blacking 1 blackest 1 bixby 1 bitterness 1 bite 1 bind 1 binary 1 billings 1 billboards 1 bill 1 bike 1 bigger 1 bible 1 beyond 1 betrayed 1 berlin 1 belongs 1 bellow 1 begun 1 begged 1 beer 1 bedroom 1 beating 1 beak 1 beacons 1 beacon 1 bathe 1 bath 1 basically 1 basement 1 based 1 barstools 1 barefoot 1 banks 1 bank 1 bangkok 1 bandwidth 1 backwashed 1 backfired 1 awful 1 awakes 1 autumn's 1 audiences 1 attraction 1 attitudes 1 attitude 1 attic 1 attend 1 attempts 1 attempting 1 attempt 1 attack 1 attached 1 asterisks 1 assuredly 1 assigned 1 asked 1 ashes 1 ascribed 1 ascensions 1 artifacts 1 arriving 1 arrives 1 arrange 1 arguments 1 arches 1 arch 1 appropriate 1 appetites 1 appeared 1 appear 1 anyways 1 answers 1 another's 1 angry 1 angels 1 amputee 1 amplify 1 amphetamines 1 amount 1 amongst 1 ambition 1 amaze 1 aloud 1 alley 1 alibi 1 alcoholic 1 alarmed 1 alarm 1 airport 1 airplanes 1 air's 1 aimless 1 aiming 1 aim 1 agree 1 ages 1 age's 1 afraid 1 advantage 1 addictions 1 actors' 1 ached 1 account 1 accidents 1 abuse 1 absorbing 1 absence 1 abscence 1 able 1 abhor 1 abandon 1 'round
submitted by deanjames88 to DeathCabforCutie [link] [comments]

[OC]Friends bail you out, best friends break you out.

I wrote a short for a writer's prompt a while ago HERE.
This story is a super short one I found in a folder I had forgotten had a story in it. Hope you folks like.

-Nex

Best friends
"I hear they have Acid for blood." The speech was hissed and garbled with static. What can you expect from a Lorian's vox implant. The massive carapace covered "bug men" didn't have normal voice parts, but the implant market was thriving and had figured out how to make it work for them. H'aukc hadn't spent many creds on his, but it worked well enough.
"That's so much excrement, H'aukc," Jables said. "They are no more dangerous than any one of us here." He stood up from the table where they were playing Fip, and looked toward the entry airlock door. The limby D'elahh moved smoothly as an arboreal creature should, his light green fir poofed out in a worry display.
Litha laughed, a light chattering laugh, then the lean Dorda female smiled at her friend. "Then why al the poofing, Jables, my pet?" Litha was curvy in all the right places, but then again, so were the males. It was just the propensity to kill their mates that really separated male from female. Oddly, this didn't transfer to other species, so they often found sexually compatible mates from other species, and only sought out other Dordas when they were in one of the three fertile cycles in their life. Litha and Jables had been a thing ever since she'd got to the "Garden".
The "Garden" was the name for the prison planet the prison was on. It was beautiful. Perfect gravity, perfect atmo, perfect temperate climate. Not a single super predator, or lethal plant. Sure there were a few animals and plenty of plants, but nothing bigger than a space rat.
The main thing that kept them on E-97-Theta was that they never had anything other than small short range pilot-less shuttles on the ground here. They were guided via the planetary net between the prison and the station that was in geo sync above. Well, that didn't keep the inmates on planet, but the fact that only super long range ships could make the transit to the planet did. And those were never in system unless they were picking up corrections staff, or dropping off inmates.
"I hear they are slightly evolved versions of tree dwellers from their planet. Basically, me." Jables said, turning to the group. H'aukc had placed his Fip hand down and was busily collecting cred chips from the motley crew that sat around the table. They were arguable the worst of the worst.
H'aukc had killed an entire freighter crew when they didn't cut him in on a smuggling run as they had promised.
Litha had killed 14 mates in a sex fueled killing spree when her two of her fertility cycles hit back to back while she was visiting her home planet.
Jables had broken into or stolen just about anything he'd ever desired. Ever.
Herrgh, the reptilian Vex had been a pirate in the Dosh system that had raided over 40 ships and killed a few people here and there. His main crime had been interrupting the shipping lane of one of the major galactic corp, and NOT taking their recommendation to move to the shipping lane of their competitor.
"Oi, guys... I got something." Loiss was a All'tarr . One of the Little green men type aliens. Small in stature, incredibly intelligent, and terribly curious like all All'tarr. Loiss was a hacker. And a bit of a sociopath. At 8 he hacked a Space station environment computer and purged a few rooms of oxygen because the kids living here had made fun of him. It'd killed a hand full of other sentients too, but he didn't really seem to care. He'd spent time in and out of jail, usually escaping by hacking his way out. He was looking at something on his cobbled together tablet display. "Jax Terrus. Human. Age 30 Earth years. Extensive military background, including seeing combat on 14 separate planets. Highly decorated for valor. Recently, suspected Terrorist ties. Currently incarcerated for the deaths of 387 following the bombing of a transatlantic cruise liner."
"Sounds like a grand chap," a deep crackly voice said. The Vall looked like a stretched version of a human, long lean limbs and longer neck, topped with a slightly elongated head. "I'd always wondered when the humans would let the Council incarcerate one of their own.
"Ceruian," Jables said. "He sounds like any other of us. None of us are pre-school teachers. Ain't nothing to be afraid of."
With that, the alarm lights began to flash, their rotating beams sweeping across the entire common bay area. The commons had been cleared for this, and everyone was in a holding cell or one of the larger mixing cells like their card playing group. The massive airlock door opened, and 8 Corrections droids walked in in full gear. They set up a perimeter, before the door closed again. When it opened several minutes later, 8 corrections officers, each of a different species, surrounded a lone inmate. He was in a standard transport pod, likely in stasis sleep. The droids attended to the pod, and it settled onto the deck. One of the corrections officers, impossible to tell the exact race because of the standard issue armor, connected the pod to a tablet and said something to the assembled group. In a very coordinated maneuver, they all cover the pod with weapons drawn and back into the airlock.
When the massive door finally closed, the small pods door opened, like a casket. The inmates watched from barred vantage points for several minutes before a heavily muscled and tattooed arm reached up and pulled the rest of the body from the inside. Jax was maybe 2 meters tall, and the cheap utility clothes clung to his muscled torso, and hung loose on his legs. Every part of him you COULD see was muscle and sinew. He was bald, and you could barely make out the chipjack at the base of his neck. He looked around with squinted eyes, slowly, like the apex predator he was. His eyes looked to Jable's cell for a second, and fixed there for an uncomfortably long time.
"Inmate 741-Alpha, proceed to cell 841 for intake." The overhead Speakers boomed.
He scanned, noticing the numbers over the cells looking into the commons. 841 was right next to the Mixer cell 840 that Jables and company was in. Jax stood and walked slowly toward the cell.
"Inmates, you are being released back into Condition 1. Thank you for your patience. Please do not disrupt the conduct of the new inmate. Have a nice day."
The cell doors all moved about 6 inches up and then stuck before alternating moving up and down, as if they were in a fault condition. Jax was most of the way to 841 when this happened, and he looked around, quizzically. Just out of his line of sight, a cell door had opened fully, and 4 Sidiulah rushed towards him. They were vile, all black rubber skinned bipeds. They had basically featureless faces, with nothing to convey the intent to their victim. Someone in the bay coughed a warning in a language Jables didn't recognize. Jax was surely dead, because in Jables experience, the "Eels" were merciless assassins that in a one on one fight could take out just about anyone they turned their focus on.
Jax turned just in time thanks to the cough, and caught the shank holding wrist of the first Eel and turned hard with the momentum, pulling him down and speeding up his impact into the deck. The the sharpened piece of steel dropped free, and Jax rolled, snatching it up mid roll, and faced the remaining three attackers, dirk in hand. The first eel was not moving, a crumpled mess on the deck, but the rest all attacked at the same time, a tactic obviously honed from doing this before. One at a time, a defender could take the group a part, but this had a much higher chance of success... unless you were fighting a combat trained human. At the first movement, Jax attacked the Eel on the right, and feinted an attack at his head that then turned into a belly slash. The barely sharp steel raked against the belly of the eel, and dumped his second heart onto the ground along with most of his guts and reproductive organs. Quickly, he moved further to the right and pumped a quick couple of thrusts at the stunned Eel, scrambling what was left of his brains. The two eels hissed menacingly as their companion dropped and both charged, the three feinted and lunged., attacked and counter attacked.
Jax took several slashes and more than a few thrusts and bites, but he kept coming. Another door opened and a pair of Lorians approached the tangled mess of fighters at a jog. One grabbed at Jax, who slashed, removing several of the Lorian's handparts. The other got in a massive punch to Jax's brain case. He faltered for a second dropping his shiv, before letting out a primal yell. He threw himself at the already wounded Bugman. Humans are surprisingly heavy for their size and his impact toppled the physically larger opponent. He mounted the fallen creature and threw punch after punch. First, cracks appeared in the carapace, and finally, the casing failed entirely. His final punch ended up somewhere inside of the creatures head, and he shook the gore from his hand as he stood and looked to the remainder of his attackers.
One Eel was nearly dead and could barely stand. The other was visibly shaken at what had just transpired, and hung back. The remaining Lorian, normally used to being feared, could only stare as Jax walked coldly toward them. They all backed up slowly, giving the human some room. He stooped and picked up the first shiv and then the shiv of the other fallen Eel. He moved in some sort of choreographed martial arts stance, and eyed his opponents. He was covered in red, green, and orange blood, chunks of brain matter still clung to his right arm, face scrunched up in a sneer, and yet he was barely breathing hard.
Suddenly the whirr of a retractable door was heard from the ceiling and a riot suppression gun popped out. Everyone looked at the gun, except for Jax who dove for the nearest Eel. The Stun bolt from the gun hit the Eel center mass and he dropped. Jax, already behind him, caught him and held him up like a shield. The gun opened up rapid fire and dropped the remaining Eel and the Lorian. It hit Jax's Eel shield several more times, without effect, and Jax backed toward Jable's mixer Cell.
The murderous human spoke for the first time, standing just outside the cell. "Open Door 840." His voice was harsh but surprisingly calm for all the stun bolts hitting his former attacker's body. Jables wasn't sure who he was talking to, but the door started to move.
They all backed from the barred door as it opened and the human backed in.
"I wondered when you would come for me," Ceruian said. "It's been a long year."
The tension in the room was heavy. None of the other beings spoke. Each killers in their own right, none had ever seen a spectacle such as this. This is why humans had the reputation that they did. And this was just one. Unarmed, very determined, but alone
The human turned to the Vall and smiled, an eery look, if ever there was one. "Commander Guideon told you not to go to that Casino on Cassion. Our protection only goes so far."
"Their buffet is amazing," Ceruian said. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you came for me."
"Well, I don't have many friends like you, Cer." The human said.
Ceruian smiled. "Well, Humans are the best friends a person can have."
submitted by nexquietus to HFY [link] [comments]

Part 2: WFRV Courtroom blogs Avery and Dassey trials

Here are the requested courtblogs from WFRV as requested by the one whose username starts with 4 letters and ends with 2 numbers. Reddit character limit forces me to split the blogs in two posts. This is only a partial archive, going back in time 11 years does have it's limitations :). Enjoy.  
Will Steven Avery testify?   That’s a question many people are wondering as the defense continues its case. So far we’ve heard from a bus driver who saw a woman taking photos near the Avery property, but can’t say with any certainty when. Next a propane delivery driver who was on Avery road on Halloween of 2005, who claims to have seen a green SUV driving away from the Avery Salvage yard between 3:30 and 4pm, an hour after the prosecution says Teresa Halbach was murdered. But again, he can’t say if the driver was a man or woman. Plus a man who owns the trailer where Avery lived and the .22 caliber rifle inside the home, thought to be the murder weapon. He says he fired over 3,000 shots over the years on the property, and the defense wants the jury to believe he‘s the possible source of 11 shell casings recovered by investigators.
We would expect to hear from a forensic expert to contradict the bone fragments in the burn pit or the DNA on the bullet pulled from the garage. You would hope for direct evidence of two vengeful law enforcement officers out to get Avery, for the shame they felt about prolonging his time in prison for a wrongful rape conviction. But where’s that one piece of evidence that shows the prosecution has got it all wrong straight from the mouth of the accused? Where’s Steven Avery?
If Avery took the witness stand, he could tell all what happened on Halloween of 2005. He’s really the only one who knows.
If you were facing life behind bars, wouldn’t you want to speak on your own behalf? If I were on the jury, I would want to hear what he has to say. But it obviously would be a huge gamble, and it’s still unclear if the defense is ready to take that chance. Posted by Kris Schuller at Mar 9, 2007 11:09 am     False Imprisonment Charge Thrown Out   The false imprisonment charge Steve Avery faced has been thrown out.
The decision came Monday morning as Judge Patrick Willis ruled on three motions filed by the defense last Friday. The judge ruled there simply wasn’t enough evidence presented during the trial to support the charge. The prosecution had argued that Teresa Halbach had to have been held against her will and forced into the garage, where they say she was murdered by at least two shots to the head from a .22 caliber rifle by Avery. The defense had argued that charge was only added after the other suspect charged in Halbachs murder, but facing a separate trial, Brendan Dassey, confessed back in March of last year of being involved in the murder. He later recanted his confession and faces trial in April.
But the court ruled against dismissing all of the charges as requested by the defense. The court also ruled the DNA evidence found on the bullet inside Avery’s garage would not be suppressed and that the police did nothing wrong during their week long search of the Avery property. So motions to suppress evidence collected from the burn pit and other areas of the Avery Salvage yard can still be considered by the jury.
The judge is now individually talking to jurors to make sure they have been following his order not to watch, read, of listen to media coverage of this case.
This case is quickly winding down. Expect it to go to the jury within the next few days. Posted by Kris Schuller at Mar 12, 2007 9:12 am     Motions To Supress 'Magic Bullet' Denied   False Imprisonment Charge Dropped, Motions to Supress Evidence, “Magic” Bullet: Denied   Steven Avery’s attorneys won one battle today. Judge Willis agreed that the State did not present enough evidence to prove the charge.
Dean Strang and Jerry Buting lost the motions asking to suppress the bullet with Teresa Halbach’s DNA on it, and the motion asking to throw out the evidence in the burn barrel and burn pit, since authorities did not obtain a new search warrant when they searched those areas. Judge Willis said the cops had five days to execute that warrant. Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 12, 2007 1:19 pm     What About Teresa Halbach?   Everyday, I drive to the Calumet County Courthouse by myself. It’s a nice, pretty drive, and it gives me some “alone” time before and after work. And many times, I drive through Teresa Halbach’s neighborhood to get there.
Calumet County is Halbach Country. This is where the Halbach family lives, and you can feel the pain that still lingers here from her Teresa’s death.
Over the last several weeks, we’ve heard a lot of testimony about Teresa’s bones, her DNA, her Daisy Fuentes jeans and even her teeth. Sprinkled in between all of that was testimony from her mom (which broke my heart), her younger sister Katie, and her brother Mike. They bring you the human face to the person some of us never knew. But other than that, at times it seems Teresa Halbach gets lost among the science lessons about chemicals and vials of blood and the difference between tires with steel belts and those without.
I was sitting upstairs yesterday, while Judge Willis conducted individual voir dire of the jurors. I parked myself outside of Judge Willis’s chambers and talked with Mike Halbach for a few minutes. He’s a real sweetie and he’s getting married this summer, without his sister to stand by him. It really got me thinking. I don’t know how this family does it. They sit through these long days in court, and their lives will never be the same. We could all learn something from the Halbachs... and from Teresa.
There’s a photo of Teresa that I first saw the day Ken Kratz announced that Steven Avery would be charged with her murder. My colleague, Olga Halaburda, attended the news conference, and I went to a prayer service at St. John Sacred Hearth Church in Sherwood. I remember sitting in the church as the Halbachs filed in, sitting in the first pew. Mike wasn’t there, but all of the other siblings were in attendance. The hymn “On Eagle’s Wings” played as the service ended. That song will always remind me of Teresa Halbach.
That day, I was live at 5 and 6 outside of the church, near a candle that had been lit several days before as the community prayed for Teresa’s safe return. Next to the candle sat the cutest photo of a little girl that I think I’ve ever seen. It was Teresa Halbach, clad in a blue dress, sitting inside of a tractor tire. Next to it, sat a Reader’s Digest with The Beatles on the cover (that was Teresa’s favorite band). The magazine was sealed in a Ziploc bag with a post it stating, “May angels be with you on your journey.” Every time that I see that photo, it reminds me why we are here. Not that I’ve ever forgotten, but in between the talk of burn barrels and finger prints and DNA, sometimes you have to put her out of your mind, or at least tuck her in the back. Sometimes, you just have to do that to get through the day, so you can do your job and meet your deadline. But we must remember one thing: If the Halbachs can sit through court and listen to this, then we can, too. We must.
I snapped a picture of this photo using my digital camera at Seven Angels Restaurant here in Chilton. The Halbachs are regular customers there, and the Sabani family owns it. They’re some of the nicest people that I’ve ever met. They make me feel at home every time I go there, and it’s nice to sit there and get a feel for what the community is thinking and feeling. People are very interested in the outcome of this trial, and they love the Halbach family and Teresa. This photo is hanging in the front entrance of the restaurant. You can’t miss it; it’s right above the gum ball machine as you walk in.
But, maybe the next time we hear expert testimony about teeth, and bone fragments and “magic bullets”, this picture will come into our minds. Teresa Halbach is a little girl who grew up to be a photographer, but never lived to comb grey hair. In a way, she’s everyone’s little sister, daughter, niece, granddaughter and friend. Her’s was a life taken too soon, and for what?
I don’t think we’ll ever really know. Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 13, 2007 10:20 am     The Chilton Hilton   That’s what some of us reporters have affectionately dubbed our media room down here. It’s a big conference room in the basement of the Calumet County Courthouse. The officials here, led by Sheriff Jerry Pagel and County Administrator Bill Craig (if I’m leaving anyone out, I apologize) allowed us to transform it into a newsroom. They’ve been so nice to let us do that, because let me tell you, it beats sitting out in the truck in the middle of winter!
The time has just flown by down here. Sometimes, it seems like hours fly by like minutes. I liken this room to a casino in Las Vegas. There aren’t any windows, no clocks on the walls. You sit all day long and listen to testimony and crank out stories and before you know it, you’re sitting in front of a camera, doing live shots for the 5, and going to a news conference and slamming it together for a 6 o’clock live shot. It’s almost like they keep us fueled by pumping this place full of oxygen and feeding us a constant stream of coffee. It’s like in Vegas when the cocktail servers keep the drinks coming, free of charge, just so you’ll keep gambling!
The other day, I wrote out a check and I asked the cashier for the date, and she said, “it’s March 10.” I nearly fell over. I couldn’t believe it was March. And, there have been more than a few days when I got home around 8:30 p.m. or later, and I couldn’t remember what day it was.
We have a lot of really nice people down here in the Chilton Hilton, and we all get along. It’s a shame that we’re always so busy, and that we don’t get to talk more. We have fun when we get to chat. Mick from TMJ4 sits in front of Kris and I. Peter from FOX 6 in Milwaukee sits behind me; very nice guys. Dan from TMJ radio sits across the way with Tom from The Journal Sentinel. We go out to lunch sometimes and we’ve gone out after work a couple of times. Carrie from the AP sits at the end of my table, but she was gone for a while, which was a bummer. Colleen Henry from WISN sits across the room, and I wish that she was closer to us. She’s really interesting and I’d like to talk to her more.
Then, there are my print pals, like John Lee from the Post-Crescent! He’s my bud! I do a lot of my live shots over at the Gannett table, otherwise known as Andy Nelesen’s “front porch.” I usually leave stuff on his desk, my glasses and make up, and he always returns them. He doesn’t like it when I leave my stuff at his “house” but he puts up with me.
All of the Green Bay TV stations have people here, too. A few of us have been on this case since day one, and it’s like we’re all in it together. We’ve spent a lot of time together, whether it’s in the courtroom, or at news conferences, or in the parking lot at the Manitowoc County Courthouse, which seemed like the entire summer. We have to see it through to the end.
Everyday after court, we flock to the podium together and for the news conferences, which can be a lot of fun! The attorneys and Mike Halbach are always nice to us, and they all have good senses of humor.
I’ll get some pics of our digs posted. Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 16, 2007 8:33 pm     Jury Is Done For The Night   6:28 p.m. – The jury ordered cold cuts for dinner, and then called it quits for the night.
They’ll start back up again at 8:30 a.m. and we’ll be here! Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 16, 2007 8:34 pm     Juror Question #2   We learned that the jurors had a question. We're in hurry up in wait mode. So, we all arose from whatever we were doing and got into position. I wouldn’t call it organized chaos, more like just getting ready (this is what we do, so it’s pretty routine). Judge Willis was in chambers with the attorneys for a while, and then around 3:15 p.m., Judge Willis read the question.
The jurors wanted a portion of Sherry Culhane’s testimony read back to them. Culhane is the DNA analyst with the State Crime lab. She worked on Avery’s wrongful conviction case in 1985. She testified at that time that the hairs found on the victim in that case, were Steven Avery’s. DNA testing in 2003 (again conducted by Culhane) on those hairs showed they actually belonged to Gregory Allen. Culhane conducted all of the testing in this case.
The jurors wanted the testimony from Jerry Buting’s cross examination of Culhane read back to them, when she answered questions regarding the DNA testing of the .22 caliber rifle found hanging above Steven’s bed. Prosecutors say Avery used that rifle to murder Teresa Halbach. Roland Johnson, who actually owns the trailer where Avery lived, testified that gun actually belonged to him. Johnson said that he must have fired that gun 3,000 times. He liked to shoot gophers at his “weekend getaway” adjacent to the Salvage Yard.
Ok, so in the testimony, Culhane said that she swabbed several parts of the gun, including the barrel and the trigger. Culhane testified that she found neither Teresa Halbach’s nor Steven Avery’s DNA on the rifle, including the trigger guard.
The jurors returned to their deliberations.
From our count down here, Sherry Culhane was the 33rd prosecution witness to testify. If the jurors are taking this chronologically, then that means they’re just over half way through.
What do you think the question means, if anything? What do you think any of this means, if anything?
Email me and I will post your entries.
Angenette Levy: [email protected] Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 17, 2007 5:22 pm     Sunday Morning at the Courthouse, Deliberations Resume   Good Sunday Morning everyone! The jury arrived at 11 a.m. and resumed deliberations. They stopped at 5 p.m. last night. I heard that Sheriff Pagel offered to order some hot meals for them, and they declined. They ate the leftover cold cuts from Friday for lunch yesterday.
Some people are speculating that we’ll have a verdict by 1:00 because the Badgers game starts shortly after that. I don’t see that happening.
Anyway, Everyone is here and accounted for. Colleen Henry from WISN brought donuts for everyone. We’ve all brought food in at one point or another, and it’s always something tasty like donuts or cupcakes or something like that! Many of us are listening to music this morning as we work. It’s nice to listen to some music for the first time in a long time!
I was driving here this morning on my usual route and the Lionel Richie song, “Easy Like Sunday Morning” started playing in my head. It stopped when I drove past Sacred Heart Church in Sherwood. Cars were pulling in for church. It was sad to see all of the blue ribbons by the church, even though I’ve seen them many times before.
I want to thank everyone who has emailed me. I really enjoy reading your emails, and as I’ve said before, keep ‘em comin’.
Here are some of you responses regarding Juror Question #2 and other items dealing with the trial.
More later, I promise. Sounds like to me a mistrial or years and years of appeals is in the offing. I would very much like to see what odds Vegas would put on this trial if they even knew about it.
Tim
It scares me. I think they DO find serious doubt in the truth of Sherry Culhane's testimony. I know if I were on the jury, I would doubt her, no questions asked! She ONLY deviated on THIS case in how many years? I find HIGH doubt in that. Like the 'evidence' shows, the cops left her a message stating they wanted her to place Teresa in his house. But, as for other evidence, it just seems fishy. No, I don't actually think the police planted evidence, but I also am not 100% convinced Steven Avery did it! I have watched about 99% of the trial on the live stream. What an exhausting case. I do enjoy reading your journal and wanted to tell you so! Glad you got a cushion for at least some comfort. Hope this trial is over soon, for the sake of the Halbach's and all involved. As I said, I am on the fence and either way the jury decides, I can see how they would be unsure and glad I'm not one of them!!! I DO think he could have done it and may get away with it because 18 years in prison-he wasn't just sitting there...it probably warped him (more) and possibly gave him ways to get away with it! I also can't wait for his nephew, Brendan's, trial to get under way. I wonder how long that will take. In my opinion, I don't care how mentally unfit, nobody (hardly anyone) says they did that sort of thing if they didn't. That also is why I think more than not the Steven did do it.
OH-I also think Judge Willis is AWESOME! He's SO fair, I was surprised by that, to see such a fair judge-yeah, rare, isn't it. No Judge Ito here! (Thank God)
Mary Howard’s Grove, WI
I think the question is favorable to Steven Avery. They are piecing together the obvious things. If he raped her and did whatever in his trailer, there would have to be DNA of her in there somewhere (be it a single hair on the bed or in the carpet). If he shot her in the head from close range, the would be splatter in the barrel, which there wasn't.
I think based on the fact the jury is out this long and that type of question was asked, there are more people in the jury room trying to sway a not guilty verdict then the other way around.
Mark in Charlotte, NC
Quite a defense Avery put up--huh? Let me see, a gopher shooting, absentee dementiated landlord, some wicken lab auditor who could not definiately contradict the lab analysis but was probably paid very well just to put up some smoke, and some other bozos that could NOT factually impeach any of the prosecutions evidence or exhibits. Now, if you were Avery and truely innocent--would you not want to take the stand and try to convince the jurors? I would demand it. So would any innocent person. But he did not want the opportunity.
I thought both sides did a good job in their closing. The defense had little to work with, but created as much smoke as they could. Contrary to what you think, I want the defense to do a good job, in that way there is little chance of winning a new trial on appeal. Ken did a good job also, considering the magnitutude of all the evidence. I just wish he had a lower and stronger voice--sorta sounds like a cross between a whiney Wayne Newton and Michael Jackson at times. Some well placed theatrics should also have been used. Ken is pretty square.
I heard that if Avery gets off, that he is moving in to an apartment with Robert Blake and OJ Simpson, so they can pool their resources searching for the "real killers". I am moving to Canada where they have Smith and Wesson justice. Just kidding.
The Hallbach family is one class act. Sometimes in the heat of the battle, we lose sight of their grief. I tell this to everyone: if that had been my daughter, there would not be an Avery trial, and I would be behind bars charged and awaiting sentencing--because I would admit to everything. Eye for an eye...well, it even goes beyond that.
Mark from the Valley
I also get chuckles out of Mr. Buting. I have said to more than one person,"If I ever get in trouble I want those two guys defending me". Now, I do not ever anticipate that, but I think the defense has done a superb job of making the reasonable doubt a real possibility with the jurors. It has been fascinating for me to listen to both sides while at work through your network, and I am so glad I am not on that jury. I have my beliefs both ways of Mr. Avery but I will keep my thoughts to myself and see what the jury does.
T
Like him? About as much as a 10 foot cobra! The man is condescending, vastly rude and can take any fact and twist it to his version of the truth.
Why is everyone else stupid except him?
Both Mr. Buting and Mr. Strang have played on the sympathy of "poor" Mr. Avery, sent to prison for all those years for something he didn't do. That has no relevance to what was done to Ms. Halbach and to this crime. Does the fact of being sent to prison unjustly exonerate one from brutally murdering an innocent person? And if you have intelligently followed this trial, you will know that Mr. Avery did, without a doubt, commit this crime.
Both Mr. Buting and Mr. Strang just leave a very sour taste in one's mouth. Their smug superiority is very irritating and I feel detracts from their message.
I think if I were a juror, Mr. Kratz's famous powerpoint presentation would be helpful. Verbal and visual reminder of what was presented. I liked his style, he was easier to listen to than the defense. Although at times, I felt maybe a bit too ingratiating. But overall, I think he did an exemplary job of laying out the facts.
Barb S. Green Bay Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 19, 2007 4:38 pm     When The Verdict Came In   Around 3:00 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, everyone down in the Calumet Casino (a.k.a. The Chilton Hilton) started to wonder, “what in the world are we going to do for a story today?” None of us anticipated a verdict, and we were all brainstorming. We thought, “well, maybe they’ll (the jurors) come up with a question.” I wanted to do a story with all of the attorneys, asking them what was the longest they’d ever waited for a verdict. None of them seemed interested, then I approached Sheriff Pagel and he didn’t think he would be allowed to comment due to the gag order.
So, I started to walk upstairs around my best estimate of 4:44 p.m. to fish around for another story. I was on the phone with my producer Michael as I approached the stairwell leading to the lobby and was met by Sheriff Pagel, a line of reporters trailing after him. Colleen was directly behind him and I can’t remember who else was there, but I joined the line of reporters and followed them inside, and told Michael that I would call him back.
I expected Sheriff Pagel to say, “the jury’s done for the day.” Instead, he said, “ok, we have a verdict.” I flipped open my cell phone, got the phone tree going and started to get ready. Everyone dropped what he or she was doing, and picked up phones. Remember, this is what we do. It’s our “hurry up and wait” mode, and when the waiting’s over, we spring into action. It’s an autopilot type thing, and it’s hard to describe, but your heart kind of pounds and you get this tunnel vision, and forget about everything else. You have one focus, and that’s get the story right, and get it on the air as soon as possible. For example, I had been suffering from shooting pain in my back and legs for two days prior to this, and the second Sheriff Pagel made the announcement, all of the pain disappeared.
I was to be stationed outside but I had time to watch the verdict from the media room off of the courtroom. I’ve been on this case since the beginning, so I had to see it up close. There wasn’t room in the courtroom for me, but the media room was just fine with me. John and Dewey from the Post-Crescent were in there, along with Morry from the AP (nice guy, great still photographer) and so was Fred Berry from WOMT.
We’d been waiting for this for nearly 18 months. It was judgement day. The courtroom was packed with Halbach family members. Steven Avery’s mom Dolores arrived, but her husband, Allan, was not present. Dolores’s brother was there, along with Steve’s aunt Ivonne. They’ve been in this spot with Steve before and the last time he went to prison for 18 years.
I was looking around and the attorneys appeared calm, yet tense. Some Calumet cops kept peeking into the media room, I think they were just making sure everything was okay. Then, I saw a couple of faces that I hadn’t seen in weeks, but they were two faces I’d seen many times before: Manitowoc County Sheriff Rob Hermann and Inspector Gregg Schetter, the Manty County Cops. I greeted Sheriff Hermann, who I’d met at a news conference nearly a year and a half ago. He’s a nice guy and I’ve seen him a lot over the last several months. Rob was standing next to me, it was pretty much standing room only in our media room. Morry climbed up on a chair to get a picture or 10 of Steve as they brought him in.
To quote Simon and Garfunkel, the only thing that you could hear was the “sound of silence” and camera clicking.
Everyone in the courtroom sat down, the jury was brought in. I watched as they walked in because I wanted to see whether they would look at Steve. I’ve often heard that jurors delivering a not guilty verdict will look at the defendant. These jurors did not appear to look at Steve as they walked in, but we had no idea of what the verdict would be.
The papers were handed to Judge Willis and he started to read, “We the jury find the defendant Steven A. Avery guilty of first degree intentional homicide.” I stood there frozen, and I didn’t even hear the second count being read, when Judge Willis said the jurors reached a not guilty verdict on the mutilation of a corpse charge. By all appearances, the courtroom was silent.
Judge Willis thanked the jurors for their service. That was my cue to get outside. I marched down the hallway with another reporter, and we walked outside, and got into position in front of our cameras. Chelly Boutott was there and she was trying to get interviews with people leaving the courthouse.
We then went down to the media room and Mike Halbach was speaking. It was very touching. He said that his family would be keeping the Averys in their prayers, since they too have suffered a great loss. What a class act, with all they’ve been through.
Then Dean Strang and Jerome Buting spoke. They were disappointed. They believe in Steven. I’ve never seen two attorneys advocate so strongly for a client. They worked very hard for Steven Avery.They are to be commended. They’re very nice guys.
Then Special Prosecutor Ken Kratz and the Calumet and Manitowoc County cops came down. It’s been a long road for them, and they’ve worked hard to see that justice would be served for Teresa Halbach and her family. They all look tired. It was weird sitting there , watching this Wall O’ Law Enforcement. I feel like I’ve spent a lot of time with these guys over the last 18 months whether it was at court or at news conferences. Cops sometimes get a bad wrap, but I can tell you, these cops the Manitowoc and Calumet guys were thinking of one thing throughout this case, and that was: Teresa Halbach.
What did you think of the verdict? Did you watch? We may post your response.
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 20, 2007 8:47 pm     Cross Examination of Dr. Gordon   Ken Kratz accused Dr. Gordon of “cherry picking” by choosing to put things in his report that would favor Brendan Dassey’s assertion that his confession was false, and the result of suggestion by investigators.
Ken Kratz cited a question Dassey was asked. Dassey said that he believed it was true that anyone would lie to keep out of trouble. Gordon said that the testing he used was not suitable to determine whether Dassey could be diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder, or anti-social tendencies. Anti-social personality disorder is defined as:
“A psychiatric diagnosis in the DSM-IV-TR recognizable by the disordered individual's disregard for social rules and norms, impulsive behavior, and indifference to the rights and feelings of others.”
Kratz also cited the difference between suggestibility and a truly false confession. He pointed out studies about false confessions.
There are three types of confessions:
1) Voluntary 2) Coerced, compliant – the subject perceives a gain 3) Coerced, internalized – the subject convinces herself or himself that they committed the crime
Kratz: Their studies indicate that most false confessions are the result of very long interrogations, sometimes that last into the days, rather than just an hour.
Gordon: True.
Kratz said Dassey started to make admissions about 60 minutes into his 3 to 4 hour interrogation.
Gordon conceded that Dassey’s low IQ which has been estimated between 73 and 81, his shyness and other personality traits, could make him susceptible to giving a true or false confession.
Gordon reiterated that his testing was designed to show how suggestible Dassey might be, not the truthfulness of his statement. Apr 24, 2007 9:38 pm     The Dane County 15   Let me tell you, Brendan Dassey couldn’t ask for a better jury, in my opinion. These people are a smart, smart bunch. They seem attentive and considerate and open-minded.
11 women and four men sit on the jury. A woman was dismissed last Friday due to illness. I have watched them when I’ve been in the courtroom. A few look a little tired, but otherwise they seem to be holding up well. They listened carefully as Brendan Dassey testified yesterday. They also watched the confession; some took notes while I was in the courtroom. The day after the confession played, it seemed many of them couldn’t even look at Brendan, though. Some of the women just stared at him, skeptically. Some of the men did not look at him.
The jury is staying at a local hotel in Manitowoc. I’ve stopped by the bar there after work a couple of times to meet reporters who are also staying there . The jury always has a great spread set out for them. Last night, I walked by and there was some awesome Strawberry Shortcake on the dessert tray.
They arrive every morning looking fairly chipper. Tomorrow, they should have the case by late afternoon or early evening.
Does anyone want to guess how long they’ll deliberate? Apr 25, 2007 10:30 am     Sexual Assault Charge: Amended   This morning, Special Prosecutor Ken Kratz asked the court to amend the criminal complaint and change the first degree sexual assault charge as a party to a crime to second degree sexual assault as a party to a crime.
Judge Fox granted the motion. Then, Mark Fremgen asked to have that charge dismissed, citing a lack of physical evidence. Fremgen said there is no physical evidence to support the charge. In fact, he said the only evidence to support it is the confession, and according to the law, some evidence must be offered aside from the confession.
Special Prosecutor Norm Gahn said there isn’t a lot of physical evidence because Steven and Brendan burned Teresa’s body. However, he said the discovery of handcuffs and leg irons in Steve’s bedroom, along with Teresa’s DNA on the bullet found in Steve’s garage is sufficient evidence to corroborate the confession. Gahn also noted how the furniture in Avery’s bedroom had been rearranged, which Brendan said in his confession, and Jodi Stachowski, Avery’s girlfriend testified too, which supports the claim that the bedroom was cleaned thoroughly to destroy evidence.
Judge Fox said there’s enough evidence to have the jury consider the charge. Motion to dismiss, denied. Apr 25, 2007 5:10 pm     More of Your Emails Thanks for writing in again, everyone! And, as I’ve said, keep ‘em comin’! I want to know what you’re thinking.
Brendan’s Testimony
Dug that hole a mile deep. That's why I find it quite interesting why a defense attorney would let his client go up on the stand, put a noose around his neck and hang himself. My past experiences were a defendant NEVER makes a good witness. The phone call to his mother seems to me to be the deal sealer.
Tim, De Pere
I think every word he confessed to is true. Steven Avery is the one that should pay dearly for this kid, I think he made a wrong choice but Steven is the real problem. Too bad Wisconsin doesn't have the death penalty.
Marie
How long do you think the jury will deliberate?
I say once the jury gets the instructions, they will be out no more than 4 hours before they return their verdict. I can't help but feel that when Brendan took the stand Monday that he lost all possible hope for any "sympathy" from the jury to possibly convict on a lesser charge.
Tammi, Green Bay
1 hour
Dan
I think the jury will be out about 10 minutes...
Mark
I think the Jury will deliberate and reach a verdict in less than 2 hours. The evidence is clear. The decision should be easy.
MN DePere, WI
Tom Fallon’s Closing Argument
I caught most of it....compelling to say the least ? Is it just me or has Brendan "perked" up a little bit since his testimony Monday ? I sure hope this kid doesn't think that he is going home after all this....breaks my heart for both families.
Tammi
Angenette, Apr 25, 2007 7:28 pm     We’re on Verdict Watch   I’ve received some emails asking about what’s going on out here in Manitowoc County.
We’re all sitting in the parking lot of the courthouse or hanging out in the parking lot. It’s really, really cold out here!
The jury got the case around 4:30 p.m. after some pretty impressive closing arguments from the State and the defense.
The Dane County jury now consists of 13 people – 12 jurors and 1 alternate composed of four men and two women. Two women were relieved of their duties today.
They just got dinner. It’s Italian consisting of pizza and other stuff. It smelled delicious!
It could be a long night, or a short one. We’re in hurry up and wait mode. When we were in Madison for jury selection, the deputies at the Dane County Courthouse said that a jury their deliberated until 6:00 a.m. several weeks ago, and returned a verdict then.
We could be in a for a short wait, or a long night.
I’ll do my best to keep you updated. Apr 25, 2007 7:35 pm     Two Mothers – Polar Opposites   Karen Halbach -- Teresa’s Mom
Everyday for the last 18 months or so, I can imagine that Karen Halbach has awakened to milk her cows and see her two teenage daughters off to school. As she walks toward her barn, does she look across that farm field and see the home that used to be occupied by Teresa? I wonder what it must be like for her, to open her eyes every morning. Is Teresa the first thing that comes to mind? Is she the last thing she thinks about before going to sleep?
I know that my mom always says there’s probably nothing worse that a parent can go through, than to lose his or her child. Losing a child is a totally unnatural experience. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children; they’re supposed to watch them grow up, have their own children -- or not -- and grow to middle age, and in some instances, old age. But, Karen Halbach was robbed of that by Steven Avery -- and now, Brendan Dassey.
I’ve heard over and over again that the Halbachs have a deep faith that has guided them through the last 18 months. Mike Halbach has often said that he gets his strength from his mother. I don’t know whether it’s faith or life experience or a combination of both, but I know that I don’t understand how this family has kept it together.
Imagine for months, turning on the news and listening to the man you believe to be the murderer of your daughter, granting interviews and suggesting that your daughter might still be alive. Imagine Karen Halbach, listening to Steven Avery talk about how cops might have planted his blood to frame them for her daughter’s murder. To listen to him say, “she was here for 5 minutes, and left” even after his nephew gives a three-hour recorded confession.
I feel for Karen Halbach and the rest of the Halbach family. My younger sister is Teresa’s age, and let me tell you, if that had been my sister, I would have lost it a long time ago. The first time Steven Avery walked into the courtroom smirking my way, I might have lost it. But then in a way he wins. I might be in a straight jacket by now, if something like that happened to my sister. But, then again, you never know how you’ll handle a situation, until you’re in it.
I don’t know whether the phrase “grace under pressure” adequately describes Karen Halbach -- it seems like it’s not good enough. We could all learn a thing or two from Karen Halbach and her family. They’ve got more class in their little finger than some people could ever hope to have.
Barbara Tadych
I met Barb Tadych on the evening of March 1, 2006. It was the night that her son, Brendan Dassey, confessed to helping rape and murder Teresa Halbach and then burn her body.
I stumbled upon Barb and she agreed to talk with me. Standing outside, she looked absolutely stunned. She told me about her baby, Brendan and how her brother threatened him to go through with it. I stood outside in the cold, it was misting a bit, and listened to her as she poured out her heart to me. She told me about how badly she felt for the Halbach family. She didn’t understand how someone could “take an innocent life.”
Barb told me that Brendan had a learning disability and that “he does as he’s told.” I had no idea at this point that Brendan had confessed to the things he did -- I thought that he had confessed to helping burn Teresa’s body, nothing more.
I’ll never forget what it was like to look into her eyes as she realized what her brother had dragged her son into that Halloween day. She said that she was “numb.” She looked into the camera and spoke to her brother and said, “Steven, I know you’re going to be watching this and I hate you for what you did to my son, so you can rot in hell, alright. And I’m gonna get you for it.”
That night, I would learn that Brendan Dassey had confessed to murder and implicated Steven Avery in the crime. I was stunned. I remember thinking, “a 16-year-old kid did this?” Of course it’s possible, but how could a kid do this?
As I’ve said before, only Brendan Dassey can answer the “why” question. And, if he did do it, and if it was simply because he “wanted to see what if felt like”as far as sex goes, then why did Steven Avery bring his young, impressionable nephew into this?
How could he do this not only to Teresa Halbach, but to his sister and his nephew? Only Avery can answer that question and right now he’s saying that he didn’t do it.
I’ve watched Barb over the last 13 months. This has worn on her terribly. She wants her son to come home and the truth of the matter is, he may never see the light of day again once that jury returns with a verdict.
It’s very, very sad. If Brendan Dassey did this then he must be punished, he must be held accountable. But, Barb didn’t do anything and it’s hard to watch a mother who may lose her child -- albeit in a much different way than the Halbachs.
In talking to Barb I can tell that she’s tried to be a good mother and that she loves her children. We all have to play with the hand we’re dealt, and sometimes it just seems like Barb got a really bad hand.
It’s also terribly sad that most of the time Barb comes to court by herself. Brendan’s dad Peter has been here in the mornings, but he has to work in the afternoon. When Steve was on trial, many of the Avery family members showed up for court everyday. It’s sad to see that Brendan’s grandparents, Dolores and Allan, and his uncles choose to stay home for his court appearances. Why all the support for Steve and none for Brendan?
It must be awful to feel like no one’s behind you, or your son. She also trusted her brother with her son, and now look what’s happened, if what Brendan said is true.
P.S. -- Karen Halbach and Barb Tadych share the same birthday.
Angenette Apr 30, 2007 3:34 pm
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do they really pump oxygen into casinos

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