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tory-ben-hi-shelton · 4 years ago

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my favourite quotes from code

"Okay, pal." Ben gripped our captive at both ends. "Count your blessings that my friend here is a total softy."

It'd been nice fishing alone with Ben. The two of us didn't spend much one-on-one time together, and he often went mute when Hi and Shelton were around. Probably because those two never let anyone get a word in edgewise.

"Don't be such a baby." I teased. "They're practically lap dogs."

"Lap dogs won't rip your face off. Or eat you."

"All in all," Shelton said, "this is a tremendously dumb game."

"You're a dumb game." Hi shot back.

More dramatic moans, but the boys stopped what they were doing.

"Fine." Hi.

"Whatever." Shelton.

"One time." Ben held up a single finger. "One."

"This game is popular?" Ben was sitting on his tackle box in the shade of a large Elm. "Sounds pretty nerdtastic to me."

"We can't all practice birdcalls like you."

"Honey, in my day a young lady didn't speak to her elders like that. We were taught manners." I was about to further reduce her opinion of my upbringing when the shade to Kit's office rose.

Kit once said I terrify him. He meant it in a good way. I think. Pretty sure.

"Tory!" Whitney squealed. "He's going to attack!"

"Maybe." I walked into the kitchen and snagged a diet coke from the fridge. "Try to protect your throat."

"Tory!!!"

"Later." Jason tossed a head nod to Hi and Shelton as he passed them. The Two Stooges clumsily returned the gesture.

Shelton drifted back to my side wearing a sly grin. "That was smooth, player."

"Shut it."

"I know." I signed, turned. Ben often knew what I was thinking.

Shelton rapped a short sting of characters just above the signature: Hemxvivobz

"That's useful." Hi said. "Sounds like a sex position."

"Like everything you do is cool," Hi snorted. "Still have that ninja costume you wore to my twelfth birthday party?"

"Ben, that's brilliant."

Suddenly, the boy was all blushes.

"No big deal. Easy, really."

"We have got to work on our decision making process." Shelton was shaking his head. "Right now we just follow Tory over every cliff."

"Oh, boohoo." I mocked. "Get moving."

Already handsome, flaring took his attractiveness to a whole new level. His coppery skin practically glowed in the evening light. I turned quickly, surprised by the colour rising to my cheeks.

Ben took a breathe, seemed to realize how hard he was clutching me. His hand dropped as if burned.

"Come on Shel-Dogg," Hi stuck out a fist. "After everything we've done, the dark shouldn't scare you anymore."

"And yet, it does." A moment passed, then Shelton reluctantly bumped Hi's fist.

Terrified, I lunged towards my wolf dog. An arm circled my wait and dragged me to the ground.

"Just follow my lead." Code for: I have no idea.

"Very nice," I said. "I wasn't aware break dancing was back in style."

"Now you are." Hi popped open a bag of Bugles. "I also do a killer mime."

Ben smiled for the first time all afternoon. It was nice to see. When he deigned to flash his pearly whites, Ben went from sullen boy to charming young man. I much preferred the latter.

"What happened?"

"A crazy female line backer pummeled my chest." Hi grumbled. "She's still pinning me to the ground. And she isn't as light as she might think."

Their Cinderella run had made Shelton and Hi popular with the older kids. The two were joking and talking trash, seemingly holding their own. For some reason, this made me proud. What an odd thought.

Without thinking, I launched myself at Ben, catching him off guard. The weight of my body knocked him over backward. Never hesitating, I jumped on his chest and started slapping his face.

Ben was slouched in the copilots chair, too dizzy to stand.

"He's no good for you," Ben said abruptly. "Doesn't deserve you."

"Just be quiet." Soft. "We're almost home."

Ben's eyes were slits. "That guy, he's..." His hand rose, fell. "Dime a dozen. Doesn't know anything. About you. The real you."

Mercifully, Ben trailed off. In moments, he was snoring.

Hi and I headed for the lot. I hoped Wimpy and Vomitasaurus and gotten their acts together.

"Off-limits." Shelton muttered. I chose not to hear.

"I could kiss you, Tory."

"Some other time."

"Choir practice?" Ben rolled his eyes. "Perhaps your worst cover story ever."

Hi grabbed Shelton by the cheeks. "You, sir, are a genius." He leaned forward to kiss eachother one.

"I try." Shelton flailed as Hi his first sloppy smacker. "Man, get off me!"

"Problem? Why?"

Hi looked at me strangely. "We're a little busy Friday night."

"Busy? Doing what?"

The boys exchanged a look. Hi snorted.

"I don't know about you," Shelton said, "but I'm escorting my friend Victoria to her debutante ball."

"Fine! I won't go anywhere else alone. Ever again. Scouts honour."

"You're not a scout," Hi pointed out. "No loopholes, Miss Brennan."

I nearly ground my teeth. "On my honour as a lady, Hiram."

"Excellent! I accept."

Hi lifted the heavy cream envelope penned with my name. "What's this?"

"Oh, that." Could anything matter less right now? "You guys are gonna love it."

I passed along our invitation to the Claybourne Manor. Their groans drew every eye in the room.

"Ben, stop the boat."

He looked at me funny. "We're in the middle of the ocean, Victoria."

"Jason's my friend," I said quietly, "but he's not a Viral. He's not part of my pack. He'll never mean as much to me as you do."

Ben's eyes snapped to meet mine. He stared at me intently. I felt my cheeks burn.

"And Hi and Shelton, of course." I added quickly.

"Of course."

"We're always one step behind. Running straight into whatever direction the Gamemaster points. He's owning us right now. Scripting our every freaking move!"

Abruptly Ben was beside me, his hand finding mine. "Later, Tor."

Voices intruded from far away.

"Oh man, she really did it this time!"

"Should we call a nurse?" Panicky. "An ambulance?"

"And say what, exactly?" hissed a third. "That our friend passed out after some bad telepathy?"

I considered running away. Joining a travelling circus. I had a savings account, and a tiny trust fund courtesy of Aunt Tempe. I could probably get as far as Singapore before anyone noticed. I'm very resourceful.

Hi, naturally, had opted for flair. His tux was crushed purple velvet with tails, accented by all white silk—tie, vest, gloves and suspenders. He completed the outfit with a freaking top hat and cane. Whitney had nearly fainted on seeing him.

Ben lurched forward to catch my elbow. "Jason will escort her."

Unable to speak, I thanked him with my eyes. "You'll do great," Ben whispered, patting my hand. "Just picture them all in their underwear." I gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

"Don't choke, Boat Girl."

I almost laughed. "Step off, bitch."

"Oh, we're, um playing a pretty serious game of Dungeons and Dragons," Hi stammered. "I'm, like, the head ... unicorn master, and Tory has to find my magic... beans. Seeds."

Hi cracked the door. "Ladies first."

"Why, thank you, sir."

For the hell of it, I dropped into another formal curtesy. The boys snickered. Then, straightening their soiled garments as best they could, gave me a polite round of applause.

"You okay, Tor?" Shelton had a sandbag on one shoulder, hauled up from the beach. "We don't have time for an ER run."

"We could amputate," Hi suggested. "Shelton, get the whiskey."

"Comedians, both of you."

"I dreamed it."

"Aha! You dreamed it." Hi yawned and rubbed both his eyes. "I think it's time we get you medicated."

"Good thing we're Virals," Ben said.

Our eyes met. He actually smiled.

"I'm with Tory," Ben said firmly. "To the end."

"Thank you." I felt a rush of affection. When it really matters, I can always count on Ben.

I stared at Ben, aghast, incapable of speech. My friend. My confidant. Trusted above all others on earth.

#this is a contender for my favourite book #virals #virals series #long post #quotes

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bitter69uk · 4 years ago

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Recently watched: Carnival Story (1954). Tagline: “The story of a woman’s shame!” I’m using this period of enforced social isolation to explore the weirder corners of YouTube for long forgotten and obscure movies. (My boyfriend is accompanying me only semi-willingly).

A traveling American carnival is touring through post-war Germany. In Munich, the carnival barker Joe Hammond (Steve Cochran) encounters desperate local woman-on-the-skids Willi (Anne Baxter) when she pickpockets him. (Baxter instills Willi with an almost Joan Crawford-level lip-twisting intensity, but her German accent falters). Perversely, when Joe catches her, the attraction between them is immediate. Willi’s criminal act charms Joe (“You feel sorry for everything that wears skirts!” another character spits) - probably because Joe is an amoral conman, and he assumes Willi is a soulmate. He impulsively hires the guttersnipe to scrub dishes in the cook tent. Within no time, the circus’ new female arrival catches the eye of dashing high-diving artist Frank Collini (Lyle Bettger), who recruits Willi as his assistant, training her in the death-defying art of high-diving. Soon, Willi has swapped toiling in the cook tent to performing under the big top in a glamorous sequined leotard with the carnival’s headline act. The besotted Frank asks Willi to marry him. He’s thoroughly decent as well as handsome (Lyle Bettger’s butt and thighs look sensational in tights), but Willi is conflicted: the suavely duplicitous Joe still exerts a powerful sexual hold over her. And it’s tinged with sadomasochism: Joe alternates between slapping Willi around and hungrily kissing her – which to be fair, seems to excite her. “Until I met you, I never knew how rotten I was!” Willi pants. “We belong together,” Joe growls back. “We’re two of a kind!” Willi is horrified, though, when Joe assures her, “We’re not going to let a little thing like you being married come between us!” With hideous inevitability, things soon spiral into jealousy, violence and tragedy …

Filmed on location in Germany and set in the tattered milieu of itinerant carnie folk, Carnival Story is an overwrought, amusingly sordid melodrama via RKO Radio Pictures. (We see titillating glimpses of the sideshow acts, including Siamese twins, a bearded woman, a snake handler and a sword swallower – very Diane Arbus. Note Groppo the hulking mute strongman, who observes everything silently and gradually emerges as a significant figure. As Groppo, Ady Berber presages Ed Wood stalwart Tor Johnson from Plan 9 from Outer Space). Kurt Neumann’s direction is creakily old-fashioned (rapturous music crashes and swells on the soundtrack when characters embrace or erupt into fistfights). But with the depravity, homoeroticism and emotional cruelty cranked-up a few more notches, it’s weirdly easy to imagine R W Fassbinder remaking Carnival Story. (The early scenes of Fassbinder’s Fox and His Friends (1975) unfold in a low-rent German carnival). And you’ve got to love a film with dialogue this pungent: "If you were starving to death, howling for food, I wouldn't throw you a rotten bone!" “You love to wallow in the mud!” “If you touch me again – I’ll kill you!” “We’re both bad, baby … that’s why we’re good for each other!”

Many of these lines are snarled by mid-century cinema’s supremely sexy bad boy, Steve Cochran. Carnival Story succeeds best as a “star vehicle” for the alluring Cochran, who specialized in depicting amoral anti-heroes, heels and tough guys you-love-to-hate with surprising complexity, even delicacy. A swarthy charmer with pomaded hair and an impressively lustrous chest pelt, Cochran effortlessly radiates testosterone and animal magnetism. Just try to tear your eyes off him when he’s onscreen. If you keep your expectations low, Carnival Story is the tawdriest of circus-set thrillers until a sixty-something Joan Crawford donned hot pants and top hat to play a ringmistress in Berserk (1967). Note that Carnival Story was filmed in a process called “Agfacolour”. The faded public domain print circulating online looks like it’s been overlaid with a retro Instagram filter. YouTube link.

#steve cochran #carnival story #bad movies we love #bad movies for bad people #lobotomy room #melodrama

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xbsundaymatinee · 8 years ago

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Sun May 14th: Matinee AND Festival!!

Hallo all, this coming Matinee is going to be very special as it's happening within a very awesome three days festival in XB Liebig (see details under)

# Sun 14th May XB Sunday Matinee w/History of Colour TV, Prids and 111, from 4 pm on..

The History Of Colour TV was founded in 2010. Over the course of three albums and multiple EPs released, the band has been unabashedly diverse in their approach, exploring harsh noise, experimental sound collages, reverb-saturated dream-pop, shoegaze guitar-scapes, or the stripped-down rock of their more recent offerings. Their new album Something Like Eternity was released in March 2017. http://thehistoryofcolourtv.com

The Prids David Frederickson (guitars, vocals) and Mistina La Fave (bass, vocals) started their band together over a decade ago in rural Missouri. They released a slew of 7"s, EPs, and full lengths. They relocated to several cities before landing in beautiful Portland, OR where they now reside. Also of note is the fact that the two fell in love, were married, were divorced, and yet the band continued on. Tim Yates (keys) and Gordon Nickle (drums) round out The Pridssound. http://www.theprids.com/

111 2015 in Berlin gegründet ist die Musik von Einseinseins durch dynamische Monotonie gekennzeichnet. Einseinseins verbindet treibende Grooves mit galaktischen Flächen. Einseinseins verleiht vermeintlicher Pop-Musik wieder psychedelisches Antlitz. Einseinseins ignoriert die künstlich auferlegten Regeln des Rock. Einseinseins schlägt die Brücke zwischen Vergangenheit und Zukunft. http://einseinseins.jetzt/band

WE are totally delighted that this edition of the Matinee comes with the LIEB*ICK festival!

FRI 12 MAY from 3 pm on: Grog/Adventure Team/Madame Guillottine/Maschinenbrut/Tristan da Cunha/Johnny Brennt/Der schrechlische Besuch plus more tba and circus show, Kufa, dj set...

SAT 13 MAY from 3 pm on: Violent Threats/Blades/Cheese Fart/Wels/Praxis/Digitaljunks/Puppe Mucke/Pleasure Tips plus more tba plus kids graffiti, silk workshop, screenings, dj set...

SUN 14 MAY from 4 pm on: XB Sunday Matinee (111, the Prids, History of Colour TV), M.i.p.V., Scum Babies, Altaj, No Imput Project and more tba plus Kufa and dj set

Address: Leibigstrasse 34, F'hain (close to U5 Frankfurter Tor)

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sending-the-message · 7 years ago

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I Lost My Family to the Deep Web by Erick_Alden

Allow me to just preface this by saying that I never used the deep web for anything too bad. I never bought drugs. I never stole movies or music. Hell, I rarely even looked at porn. I had the most generous wife you could ever imagine. I honestly didn’t need porn with a woman like that in my life. I had always been fascinated by computers but the town I grew up in was a small hick town if that. I remember hearing about computers and the internet, and the idea of it blew me away. Being able to access information from anywhere in the world was amazing, and it astounded me that it wasn’t embraced and pursued by more people. So, I not only lived in a technology desert, but my family wasn’t exactly rich either.

My mom slaved away at a large corporation where she was paid much less than she was worth. My dad worked various odd jobs, but always invested most of his time into the local church. He was a stereotypical bible thumper, and as one might expect, I grew to resent the religion. I always felt like religion was a one-way street. They expected me to pray to and serve some deity in the sky and all those who don’t would burn in hell. My interest in history led me to the realization that every religion was similar in that regard. And that, for me, was enough to dismiss them all.

Thankfully they raised my sister and me to work hard. We both went to college and got decent jobs. She became a nurse and moved to New York. I followed my passion for history, and eventually became a world history teacher at a small high school.

I married my high school sweetheart shortly after getting my teaching job, and we moved into a more populated suburb not too far from where I grew up. We found a nice house that was close enough to both of our jobs. My wife and I had been saving up money because we were trying to have a child, although it was taking longer than we thought. After about a year of trying, we saw a doctor. He said that we were both able and healthy, but it would take some more time. This was almost nice in a way because we had more money than we needed for when the baby came. I decided to take a few hundred dollars and get that computer I’d been dreaming about for years. I was so excited when my wife agreed that I should. We couldn’t raise a kid in this day and age without a computer after all, right? Well, I put it in our home office. And I quickly became enamored with the thing. I can honestly say, that my life would have been so much better if I’d had one of these growing up. I could literally learn anything in the world I wanted. I found myself reading dozens of articles, speeches, books, and watching tutorials. I could not have been any happier. Time marched on and I found myself finishing up the semester and getting ready for the summer. It got pretty boring honestly. I still got paid for it, but because the school was such a crappy district, there weren’t many things for teachers to get involved in over the summer.

That was when my genuine interest in the internet became something of an addiction. I was on that thing at nearly all hours of the day. Since my wife and I were still trying to have a baby, we were having sex like two animals. Life could not have gotten any better. Unfortunately, when things get that good, they can only get worse. It was a month and a half through the summer vacation when I found myself reading the same shit on the internet. There was nothing new, or at the very least nothing worth learning about. However, I did recall hearing about something strange. It was called the deep web. I never studied it in depth, but I eventually had a basic understanding of it. I downloaded Tor and starting looking around online. I made sure to be extra careful because I have heard stories of people being stalked, kidnapped, or even killed from using the deep web.

I found myself staring at dozens of random links on the hidden wiki at 3 o’clock in the morning. I kept clicking away until something, anything useful came up. I did end up finding a lot of mathematics and science stuff, but I’m a history teacher, I’d rather learn about history. A few more hours of searching and I found something that at least remotely peaked my interest. It was a conspiracy theory page. Now I don’t consider myself to be anything of a conspiracy theorist, nor am I the least bit paranoid about things like the Illuminati. But these were some of the most solid arguments for foul play from the government I had ever seen. There were classified documents, in-depth research, and an overwhelming amount of evidence for almost every theory I saw. Don’t get me wrong, there were a few that seemed a bit farfetched, but the vast majority of them made some damn good arguments.

Eventually, I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer and had to go to bed. I powered down my computer and as quiet as a mouse, crawled into bed with my tender loving wife. I felt a bit of a void between us though, she never had the lust for knowledge like I did, and if I were to ever tell her about the crazy and interesting things I read online, she’d playfully tease me that she was falling asleep or something to that effect. The next day, I was right back on the deep web looking for new things to widen my world view. Nearly an hour had gone by and all I had found was a bunch of broken links. I was about to sign off when a box appeared in the corner of my screen with a link in it. Being as naïve as I was, I clicked on it. I was absolutely mortified at what I saw next. At first glance, I thought the abomination on my computer screen was some kind of a torture video. No. I was dead wrong.

A toddler whimpered as he sat there gagged and bound. Covered in blood and piss, he begged the man in frame to stop, but to no avail. A deranged man in a Guy Fawkes mask stared at the camera as he thrust his body to and fro. A few seconds went by when the man finished, and he got up to do a strange dance. If there was a cross between a football player’s victory dance and a circus clown’s opening act, the resulting atrocity might resemble the strange act the man performed over that poor child.

To my horror, I realized it was a live feed hooked up to a webcam with a live chat box on the side. It took a few minutes for the shocking realization to fully wash over me. After I’d collected myself, I foolishly started to read what was in the live chat box. The most horrid and disgusting things you can imagine were being requested. I had a hard time believing that real people were behind a keyboard somewhere in the world typing these things. I really don’t want to go into too much detail about what they were saying. It suddenly dawned on me that I could just close this shit and be over with it. I jolted the mouse and clicked to X out the page, but nothing happened. I felt my stomach drop.

“What… what the hell is going on?” I kept asking myself. I’d never heard of anything like this happening. I was about to manually reboot my computer when the man from the video stream called out my full name. “Leaving so soon Mr. Edwards?” “Off to teach another history lesson at that little shithole you call a high school?” He asked in a rough, distorted tone.

I had no idea what to do. I clicked every button on the computer, keyboard, and mouse. No matter what I did, there was no reaction. I heard him start reading off my credit card information and I’d had enough. I unplugged my computer from the back and powered it down. It was a relief to have finally left that nightmare of a web page. I was in awe at the speed he was able to get my personal information.

I changed my credit card number and any other information I could. My wife was a bit suspicious but she didn’t pry too much at it. We had a very trusting relationship, and I didn’t want to frighten her, so I kept the incident to myself. A few days went by and I didn’t even go into my office. I left my computer in there unplugged, admittedly scared to turn that damned thing on ever again. I knew I’d have to eventually face my fear, so I entered the office. I booted her up and everything seemed to be normal. I deleted Tor and made sure to be done with the deep web. I casually loaded up google chrome and everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Nothing seemed to come to fruition from my little mishap and decided I was going to be safe after all. Oh, how wrong I was…

About 5 months later, my wife’s sister ended up moving in. She really was such a pleasant woman, and we did have extra space so we decided to allow her to stay with us. It was just a few weeks later that my wife and I got the good news. She was pregnant. She was already a couple weeks in, and she and the baby were both healthy and in good shape. It was the best feeling in the world getting that news. I had gotten back into the swing of things with my job and occasionally reading some decent articles on the internet. It wasn’t long before we were days away from the birth of our daughter. I had completely forgotten about the events that had transpired the night I decided to use the deep web.

It was a typical Sunday afternoon. I sat on my back porch drinking some cold sweet tea and listening to the hum of nature. Natural life can be so beautiful. Alone I sat, in a serene peace, seemingly impenetrable from the vile world that lay outside the boundaries of my own little haven. That was when I heard a crash and screaming coming from my house. Immediately I thought it was my sister-in-law watching TV too loud, which she had a tendency to do, but then I heard my wife sobbing uncontrollably. Panic sunk into my heart and I dashed into the house. I entered the large living room just in time to see a large masked man slit my wife’s throat. I screamed at him but he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I was screaming uncontrollably and ran toward him with intent to kill.

I smashed a glass lamp over his head but he didn’t even flinch. I was questioning if he even felt it or not. He turned around and grabbed me by my throat. He lifted me up off the ground and brought my face close to his. “You thought I forgot about you, boy?” I instantly recognized him as the man from that deep web live stream I saw all those months ago. That was the last thing I remember before waking up.

I awoke to see my sister-in-law’s mangled corpse on the floor. It looked like she’d been cut in fucking half. To my horror, I saw my beloved wife’s body there, drenched in blood. I sobbed uncontrollably for some time. I’m still not sure how much time passed while I knelt there and sobbed. Time may very well have stood still for all I knew or cared. But after I composed myself, I noticed something strange about my wife’s corpse. Her stomach was not nearly as large as I had remembered it to be. I crawled over to analyze her body further. The wicked idea danced across my imagination. I pushed her on her side and my hunch turned out to be true.

That sick bastard had cut my child out of my wife and had taken it. It was certainly far along enough to have been born at this point. What the fuck was I going to do? I called the police and the operator’s apparent apathy toward the situation did nothing but anger me.

“911 what’s the emergency.” The operator said in an uninterested tone. “Someone killed my family, and I think they took my daughter.” I frantically let out in a single breath. I continued to tell them my address. “We’ll have someone over there as soon as we can.”

The way she said that, frustrated me. Here I am, sitting in a puddle of my family’s blood. My life’s been drastically changed forever, and she makes it seem as if it’s just another day at the office. Where’s the empathy? Where is the compassion for your fellow human being?

After days of investigation and questioning, they were unable to find the killer or my daughter. I told those lazy fucking cops that this man found me and my family because I used the deep web. But because it was so long ago, and I couldn’t find the website again, they couldn’t do anything about it. They called it a random act of heinous violence, and within two weeks. The story did make the local news, but nothing more happened than that. I guess it wasn’t shocking enough. The whole incident was forgotten and people were worried about the next terrible thing. How could I live with myself after this? My entire family was dead because I was snooping around something I had no business to be partaking in. The following weeks were the worst of my life. I would drink as soon as I got up, and then drink all day. Alcohol was the only escape from this fucked up reality I had to live with. I was a shell of a human, nothing more than a clusterfuck of negative, hideous emotions. Misery became my only companion, but I had no one to be miserable with. I had to live this horrible fate alone.

Years had gone by when I looked into the mirror to see the unshaven face I’d come to despise. Every day I thought about where my daughter might be.

“Maybe they sent her away to live with a nice loving family across the country.” I half-heartedly deluded myself. Deep down, I knew she was most likely raised in some human trafficking ring where she’d be beaten, raped or even worse; in some hellhole filled with those sick fucks. I slowly made my way to my porch when I saw a familiar vehicle pull into my driveway. I could barely remember who it belonged to. When I saw his face I instantly recognized him. It was my father. I hadn’t seen him in years.

“Son I know you’re hurting, but this is no way to live your life. Do you think you can move on?” I looked up at him grimacing. “Do you think I’d be here doing this if I could move on?”

He gave me a rough look and said that I needed to get revenge. He placed a revolver on the table in front of me, gave me a stern nod, and left. I was honestly shocked. This was the most religious man I’d known in my life who argued against the killing of any kind. I didn’t know if I could do it, but I started to think of how many people those bastards had done this to. I can’t be the only one. So, if I were to theoretically go through with this, I’d really be doing the world a service. No fuck that. I’m avenging my family, and I’m going to save my daughter. Over the next couple of days, I drained my bank account and purchased thousands of dollars in weaponry and ammunition. I quickly realized there was a lot of illegal stuff that would come in real handy. I turned back to the deep web to buy spying equipment, heavy weapons, and explosives. It took about a month to gather enough supplies for my suicide mission, and as I sat in my basement with thousands of rounds of ammunition, pounds of explosives and, almost 20k dollars in spying equipment, I knew I was going to wreak havoc on these sons of bitches once and for all.

Days went by, and I began to feel lethargic about the whole situation. I hadn’t any idea of how I was going to find these people, or even if I could. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Two weeks went by of endless hours on the deep web, looking for the bastard who’d taken my family away from me. I came across something that seemed almost familiar in a way. It was another live stream of people torturing a child. I felt a vile hatred rise up from the pit of my stomach. I knew this wasn’t my guy, but I’d grown too impatient to wait any longer. “If I can’t find the needle in the haystack, I guess I’m just going to have to burn down the entire thing.” I thought to myself with hatred oozing from my pores. I made use of some of the spying equipment I bought and was able to figure out where these bastards were broadcasting from. An evil grin stretched across my face when I figured out they were right here in my own state.

I loaded my car with a machine gun, an AK-47, and C-4. I started my drive. This may have been the longest two hours of my life. I was so excited to finally kill some of these sick disgusting people. After almost taking a wrong turn, I found the rusty old barn house the torture porn was being broadcasted from. There were surprisingly only a few people there. A total of 4 men were running this operation. I watched for a while, but they never came out of the barn house. With my AK-47 in hand, I made my way to the entrance. I could see them raping a small boy, no older than twelve. He was crying hysterically, and covered in blood. They were completely oblivious to me. I aimed my rifles sight down. Admittedly, it took me a minute to actually pull the trigger. Pulling it was much harder than I would have thought, but seeing these sickos violate this defenseless child made me realize these people really were better off dead.

I opened fire and screamed “FUCK YOU” as loud as my lungs would permit. From what I could tell, at least two of them were dead. One was shot, but alive, and the fourth noticed quickly enough and got behind a truck. He had a pistol on him and fired back at me. This guy must have been legally blind or something because he missed pretty damn bad. Minutes went by and I slowly crept around to the other side of the building. The one with the gun was screaming at the other one to get up, but he was clearly unable. I got as close to the other gunman as I could in preparation to kill him. I aimed my sight, but I must have made a noise because he heard me. He spun around and shot. The bullet nearly grazed my skull. The gunshot was deafening. I ran toward him, expecting him to have had just fired his last shot. He had. I put a bullet through that motherfucker’s head. I stood over his bloodied corpse for a brief minute. I wanted to spit on it, but I didn’t want to leave any evidence for the cops, so I resisted the urge. I walked over to the bloodied one I shot earlier. Laughing as I did, I placed my boot on his throat. He kept begging for his life, but there was a better chance of hell freezing over before I spared him. I made sure his last minutes on this earth were as miserable as possible. Glaring down at this sick man I knew I was doing the right thing. I knew I was ridding the world of scum.

“Please, don’t kill me. This wasn’t my idea.” He begged.

“What did you fucking say? You have the nerve to try and talk you way out of your inevitable death? How dare you.” I pulled my leg back, and in one swift motion I kicked his skull in. His gray matter spilled all over the floor. The poor boy was sobbing uncontrollably. I pulled out my pre-paid cell phone, dialed 911 and told them of the situation. I told the boy to forget this night and then turned to walk away.

The ride home seemed to drag on for hours. I’d heard so many things about having PTSD after killing people. So many articles online said that after killing someone, you’d almost always feel guilty, even if you know you did the right thing. But the truth was, I didn’t feel guilty at all. I felt powerful. More powerful than I’d ever felt in the years leading up to this day. I knew after I saw that babbling pile of shit beg for his life that I was going to kill again. It felt so right to have someone begging for their life, and knowing that you weren’t going to grant them their wish made it all the more satisfying.

My life continued like that for many months. I’d spend almost all my free time on the deep web trying to track down anything that could lead me to my daughter and killing anyone I deemed worthy to die. I was like an over the top vigilante or something. Jesus, those were the days. Eventually, I became more involved in the private sector and started accepting payments to kill people. I’d gained enough notoriety in the criminal world that almost anyone knew who I was. I just wish I could go back in time and tell myself how much more money I could make by simply killing people. It makes me realize what a waste of my life teaching those hopeless dipshits really was. I was making chump change compared to what I make now. People apparently pay good money to have someone killed. I’d already made just under 3 million in the past 6 months. And I didn’t even have to repeat the same monotonous lecture 7 times in a day.

I almost became apathetic about ever finding my daughter again. She was most likely dead, or even worse. She could be anywhere in the world, and the odds of ever finding her were next to none, I thought.

One day a connection of mine told me he had a really good gig set up. He said that if I could kill 3 people well enough, I could become a regular for an underground overlord. For those of you that don’t know, this was the kind of guy who had more money than God. He ran a lot of the underground operations and even had a strong affiliation with the silk road before it gone shut down. I knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I jumped at the chance. I went over the information. I immediately realized these were going to be the highest profiled people I would ever kill.

When I first discovered I was going to have to kill a family with a young child I was mortified. The only people I have had to kill up to this point has been other criminals and sadists. How was I going to bring myself to take the lives of a seemingly innocent family? I would never even know why exactly I was being hired to kill them. You can’t ask questions like that to the higher ups though. Anyone who did was normally killed themselves, or at the very least ostracized by the organization they were trying to work for. It was a pretty serious business I got myself into. I had no problem with that. I only did what I was told, and nothing more. That was part of the reason I gained so much notoriety in my field. In fact, most people in this field never even get a chance to work for the overlord. And if you’re wondering why I keep referring to him as the overlord, it is because he does not communicate with you directly. There are a lot of people looking for him, and he’s responsible for billions in damage, and the loss of countless innocent lives, although they don’t have a lot of information on him as of right now, and will probably never catch him.

The next day, I was going to have to start tracking down this family I was ordered to kill. But that night, I was in a small bar in the middle of nowhere. Downing alcohol like there was no tomorrow and contemplating how exactly I was going to bring myself to do this. I knew in the pit of my stomach that I wasn’t a murderer. Well, let me rephrase that. Not a murderer of the innocent. I had no problem killing the evil men of the earth. I encountered so many sickos in my life. How could someone torture an animal or another person? I still couldn’t bring myself to understand how anyone could do such a thing. Even if I found the man who kidnapped my daughter, I wouldn’t torture him. I’d end his pathetic life and be done with him. Even after all the pain and agony that bastard put me through, I still knew I was better than him. I wouldn’t become the monster the I sought to destroy.

The bar began spinning after I downed my 5th shot, and I immediately came to regret this. I didn’t feel threatened by the few others in the bar before, but once I lost control of myself, it seemed as if I became all that much more paranoid. I became so much more vulnerable to those around me. And I couldn’t die just yet. I knew the events that were soon to come, would be life altering. I had this great feeling about this next job and the opportunities it would bring. Which is quite unusual. I never feel intuitive like this. With hopes of surviving until tomorrow, I drunkenly made my way back to the motel I was staying in. The snow and ice outside made it much more difficult to get there. As sad as it is to say, I ended up falling three times before I got home and locked the door. It wasn’t a far walk. But adding strong alcohol to any walk makes it seem like a journey around the entire globe. I laid down and the thought of becoming the most powerful criminal in the world rushed through my mind before I went to the realm of the unconscious. That night, I dreamt that I was a hero destined to save the world.

The next morning, my ears were assaulted by the alarm I’d set on my phone. I downed a couple aspirins to cope with the headache and got to work. The family I was going to be attacking lived in a relatively populated area, and I knew if I was going to pull this off, it would have to be quiet. I sharpened 3 separate knives and placed them in my coat pocket. The idea of bringing one of those blades across the neck of a little girl rushed through my mind and made me sick. But I knew that sacrifices were going to have to be made. I knew I had to be bad for the greater good. Unfortunately, I’ll never even know why I’m killing this family, but I did my best to separate myself from the idea that these were good people. They had to have done something pretty bad to have powerful criminals hiring hitmen to kill them, right?

I drove my SUV to their neighborhood and parked down the street at 3 o’clock. Looking toward their backyard I could see the father, Ronnie Williams on the back porch. I knew I was going to have to kill him within the next half hour because the mother, Bridget Williams, would be picking up their daughter from school and would arrive home at 3:30 every day. I thought to myself how easy this job was to do since someone else had done the monotonous task of stalking these people and recording their schedule. I locked my vehicle and started walking toward the house. I knew where they kept their extra key in the front yard garden and made my way into the house from the front. I waited for Ronnie to come back into the house for 10 minutes before I started to become impatient. I was going to need time to hide the body I thought and knew I needed to do this fast before Bridget and her daughter got home. I decided to push something over in the kitchen and hid behind the refrigerator as Mr. Williams slowly crept into the house saying “hello.” I realized how truly inept this guy was by this. I waited until he came close enough and I reached over to slice his throat open. He screamed, much to my dismay. I tackled him and plunged the knife into his neck violently, nearly cutting his fucking head off.

Watching the blood drip onto the floor drained me in some way. I sat over the lifeless body of a man who never saw me coming.

I collected myself and dragged his body to the basement. My goal was to leave no evidence for the police to find. Making my way up the stairs, I heard the front door opening. I remembered the blood all over the kitchen floor. “Shit,” I said to myself. I heard the woman and her daughter started screaming at the sight of the gruesome murder. I quickly rushed upstairs. “Ma'am, I need you and your daughter to remain calm. I’m part of the FBI, I’m afraid a murderer has made his way into your house earlier this day.” I said. “I want to see some identification!” The woman abruptly demanded. I pulled out my fake badge I always carried around and showed it to them. Anyone who knew anything about Federal Badges would easily detect it was a fake, but most people don’t.

“Is my husband alright?” She asked me. I told her he was downstairs. She slowly made her way down the basement stairs, and I followed closely behind. When she located her husband, she fell to her knees and began sobbing. That was when I pulled out my knife and slit her throat from behind. She was dead within seconds.

“Now for the hard part.” I thought to myself. I made my way back upstairs to find the little girl. She was nowhere in sight. I frantically looked all over the house but she was nowhere to be found. I grew increasingly worried. I knew I was being watched by the overlord, and if he saw this clear display of incompetence it would hurt any chances I had of working for him. I began walking up the creaky wooden stairs to continue my search. I knew I heard a sound coming from behind the door. I slowly and quietly made my way toward it. I wrapped my hand around the shiny doorknob and began to turn. A large German Shepard dog jumped on me, biting my arm. This caught me by surprise. I’d been wondering where that damned dog was. I struggled with the beast on top of me for a few minutes, but it was not long that I had my blade through its skin, and its blood soaking the cold wooden floor. After composing myself I continued my search for the girl. “This girl is barely 6 years old,” I thought “Where could she have gone?” There were enough rooms in this house that this could take a while. But I knew the longer I was here the worse it was for me. I checked each room in the house thoroughly but found nothing. That was when I remembered the girl’s father had built a fort in the backyard for her. “That has to be where she is.”

I began outside and exited the back door to the porch. I saw that the small makeshift door on the fort was closed and knew I’d find her in there. I walked over and opened the door to the fort. She screamed as I forcefully pulled her out of the fort. All her energy was spent trying to free herself. I tried calming her down but to no avail. She was crying and sobbing uncontrollably. I brought her back inside to finish the job. I threw her to the floor as I mentally readied myself to drive my knife through the little girl’s heart. I could feel my own moral compass screaming at me to stop this madness. It was hard enough to kill the parents, how was I going to kill their daughter now too? I closed my eyes and brought my knife close to her chest. She was screaming, but I did my best to distance myself from the whole situation as much as I could. I closed my eyes and began to focus.

The screaming stopped and I opened my eyes to see the lifeless corpse of the little girl oozing blood onto the floor. I started sobbing as the realization of my actions washed over me like a tidal wave of guilt and regret. “I had to do it. I had to do it.” I kept telling myself.

“Yes, you did.” A strange voice exclaimed behind me. It sounded really familiar but I had no idea where I heard it before. I turned around to see a large masked man standing behind me. He began to speak. “I know this whole ordeal has been difficult for you, killing your own daughter and such. But I’m…”

“What did you fucking say? This was my daughter… but my daughter has been dead for years.” I said, cutting him off.

“What do you think I did when I kidnapped her from you Johnny boy? I stole her from you and gave her to a loving couple incapable of having a child of their own. And honestly, they did a much better job of raising her than you ever could have.” He calmly stated. “Why would you do this to me?” “Because I can. And if you even think of attacking me a bullet will be through your head so fast your fucking head will spin.”

I didn’t know what to do. I fell to my knees and began sobbing. Why did I let this happen? Why God? Fucking why? What the fuck was the point of any of this? I thought there was something strange about her. How could I have been so stupid?

People always say "when you look into the abyss, the abyss looks back." As I stood there over the corpse of my dead daughter, looking into the eyes of the man who'd led me down the road to hell, I knew I was no longer looking down toward a monster. I was looking at an equal. The amount of self-loathing and hatred that lurked in my soul left me devoid of any other feelings. I knew that I was even more despicable than the monster that dragged me down here, for he at least knew he was doing wrong. I have been nothing but a vigilante masquerading as a hero. I'm no hero. I never was. It's ironic in a way. I became the very thing I set out to destroy. I looked up at the overlord, and said: “Did I pass the test?”

He looked pleased with my response and nodded his head. He extended his arm to help me up. After getting back up, I lunged at him and managed to place a knife directly into his throat. As I did, a bullet pierced through my stomach. We both fell to the ground and began bleeding out. As my consciousness faded, I looked at him and whispered: “today, I killed two monsters.”

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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mdellertdotcom · 7 years ago

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Last week (September 11-17) was the Brooklyn Book Festival, one of the premiere book festivals in the US, and the largest free literary event in New York City.

Brooklyn BookFest is a unique kind of festival. Rather than being centralized in a particular convention hall (such as Book Expo America in the Javits Center), the whole literary community in Brooklyn gets involved, and so “BookEnd Events” have cropped up—some officially, some unofficially—all around New York City.

The BookEnds are events before and after the official Festival weekend, ranging from a kick-off party at a Brooklyn watering hole (King’s Beer Hall, this year) to author events such as:

The HarperCollins book launch party for Catherine Mayer’s Attack of the Fifty Foot Women at Laurel Touby‘s swank East Village apartment, and

Tor’s Malka Older Presents Null States book reading/signing at the Kinokuniya Bookstore.

Attack of the 50 Foot Women, by Catherine Mayer

Catherine Mayer (left) and Kira Citron (right) among the guests at Laurel Touby’s for the release of Attack of the 50 Foot Women

Null States, by Malka Older

There are also more esoteric events simply for the love of literature, like Transcending Spaces: A Literary & Aerial Spectacular at The Muse, sponsored by HIP Lit, VIDA: Women in Literary Arts, The Rumpus, and WORD Brooklyn.

This was a riveting night of readings showcasing new work from a diverse cast of writers, including: Hala Alyan, Alana Massey, Alissa Nutting, Tea Obreht, and Camille Rankine, emceed by writer and Rumpus Funny Women Editor Elissa Bassist.

In collaboration with Brooklyn’s home for circus and immersive shows, this event also featured a stellar set of aerial performances from Chriselle Tidrick and Mara Hsiung, creating a powerful intersection between page and sky for what was truly a memorable celebration of creativity and community.

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Festival Day

But for me, the highlight of Brooklyn BookFest is always the Festival Day. Vendors line the walk-ways from the beautiful Brooklyn Borough Hall to the Korean War Veterans Memorial, and panel discussions are held in open air pavilions as well as in rooms at the Borough Hall, the Law School, and other surrounding venues.

Since I attend the festival more as a publisher and a writer than as a reader, the panel discussions always draw my particular attention.

Panels I Attended at Brooklyn BookFest

Telling Her Own Story

Girls were center stage at this panel discussion with Tracey Baptiste (Rise of the Jumbies), Meg Medina (Burn Baby Burn), and Renée Watson (Piecing Me Together) as they discussed how their writing explores the complexities of girlhood and why it’s important for them to create bold, brave girls. Moderated by Dhonielle Clayton (Tiny Pretty Things).

Perhaps ironically, as these terrific writers discussed the challenges they faced as writers, girls, women, and people-of-color, I found myself often thinking, “that’s not a girl/woman/POC-problem, that’s a human-problem,” a problem that I myself (privileged white male that I am) could relate to in my own way.

But it also left me kicking myself over missed opportunities in The Wedding of Eithne, where I might have addressed some of the topics raised in the panel, such as the effect on women and girls of socio-cultural attitudes like “boys will be boys” as a deplorable hand-waving of harassment and violence against women.

My own male privilege kept me from seeing this problem in quite the way that these women described their approach to the same issues in their own work. It leaves me wondering if I did my protagonist (and by extension, my readers) a disservice by not finding this space in Lady Eithne’s experience? I’ll have to give the book another reading with this in mind, and a thought toward a revised future edition.

So for me, this was a great panel discussion with a wonderful take-away for me as a writer, and an opportunity for growth. This is what I mean when I say that literature is a discussion, each author to the others, through the medium of writing.

Structures of Power: Politics, Science Fiction, and Fantasy presented by the Center for Fiction

It’s a common conceit that the science fiction and fantasy genres are uniquely positioned to explore structures of power.

In this panel discussion, four authors examined:

how power struggles impact individuals and collectives;

intersections between technology and politics; and

methods of resistance to oppressive governments and technologies.

N.K. Jemisin (The Stone Sky), Eugene Lim (Dear Cyborgs), Malka Older (Null States), and Deji Bryce Olukotun (After the Flare) discussed how science fiction and fantasy responds to our hopes and fears for the future, offers alternatives to conventional politics, and examines how technology affects freedom. Moderated by Rosie Clarke.

After the Flare, by Deji Bryce Olukotun

Dear Cyborgs, by Eugene Lim

The Stone Sky, by N.K. Jemisin

Null States, by Malka Older

But I have to admit, I was a little disappointed with this panel at first.

The discussion promised to be a high-level look at power structures in genre fiction, and I studied Post-Colonial Metaphysics with Leela Gandhi at Cornell University’s School of Criticism & Theory, so when the moderator opened up by asking the authors to describe how their own fantasy and science fiction worlds were affected by real life hegemonic power structures, I was right in step with her.

And then N.K. Jemisin took up the mic as the first respondent, and we all got totally Philip K. Dick’d.

Science fiction writers, I am sorry to say, really do not know anything. We can’t talk about science, because our knowledge of it is limited and unofficial, and usually our fiction is dreadful. — Philip K. Dick

Ms. Jemisin’s initial response was, “Uhm… I’m not really sure what you mean by ‘hegemonic power,’ uh, but…”

To be fair, these four writers are not by any means dreadful, and the panel quickly turned around. Despite the academic jargon that might have flown over some heads, the discussion went on to look at the place of technology (particularly information and communications tech) in our own political environment, how it’s changed the political and social discourse of our times, and how these writers have used technology in their own works.

Overall, I was pleased with the discussion, and it raised questions for my own Fantasy work. Though it’s been a fairly minor plot-point, changes in medieval technology have played a part in the socio-political milieu of my Matter of Manred series.

When a backward gang of bandits gains access to advanced weapons technology (the crossbow), it affects the balance of power in the Kingdom of Droma and threatens the authority of the State’s military force to police and protect its citizens. Comparisons and contrasts to the recent events on the Korean peninsula, the influence of military technology and training on criminal gangs and the American police force from Prohibition to the present, and the rise of radical terrorist groups around the world, are all easily enough drawn. So I’m looking forward to bringing more of this sort of technological conflict into my work in the future.

And for those in the cheap seats, I promise not to use the phrase “hegemonic power-structures” in casual discourse.

How to Reach Your Readers

The event description for this panel promised the following:

Join a publicist, marketing director, SEO specialist and audio expert for practical tips on reaching your readers via mobile, audio, thought leader placement, email marketing, and social media platforms (including Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn). Authors, agents, publishers should attend for the latest news you can use from industry pros Rich Kelley, Anne Kostick, Jennifer Maguire, and YEN founder Bridget Marmion.

I attended this panel with my own friend and publicist, Kira Citron. Right away, she wrote me a note: “Very basic, but good to be reminded of the fundamentals…” A few minutes later, she circled another event in the program and made it clear she was leaving.

And I didn’t blame her. By no means do I consider myself a publicist, a marketing expert, an SEO specialist, or anything else of the sort, yet even I found this panel to be a very “101-level” look at marketing, with very little in the first 20 minutes that I hadn’t gleaned from a hundred other marketing and publicity “gurus” and blogs over the last three years.

But the discussion did allow me to sign up for a free 30-minute consult with the well-meaning folks at Your Expert Nation. Perhaps if I open that session with a quick overview of where I’m at, we can skip the “social media marketing is all about engagement” and get into the real nitty-gritty of finding the most effective ways for a writer on a time-budget to engage with readers. More on this when I follow up with the free consultation.

Writers Watching, Listening and Writing

After ducking out early from the marketing panel, I went to check this out.

I know that I myself listen to music, watch TV, and generally enjoy pop culture in my downtime, just like anyone else. I recently binge-watched the entire first season of American Vandal (surprisingly awesome, given the premise), and caught the opening episode of The Defenders (looking forward to the rest) on NetFlix. My friend and collaborator Jean Lee has an entire series of blog posts about how music influences her work.

Well, as it turns out, many great writers and authors do the same (who knew?!)—and sometimes they even write about their watching and listening experiences. Caroline Casey (Little Boxes) has edited a book of authors writing about the TV shows they watched, and Andrew Blauner (In Their Lives: Great Writers On Great Beatles Songs) has a playlist of authors writing about songs the Beatles wrote!

This was an enjoyable panel discussion. I’ve worked in non-fiction the majority of my publishing career, and the idea of editing together a multi-author anthology of my own has occurred to me. The insights from Ms. Casey and Mr. Blauner highlighted one thing for sure: organizing and editing an anthology is a bloody lot of work. So maybe not for me, not in the immediate future…

Working with Amazon Publishing: Author and Editor Perspectives

Maybe I didn’t read the description correctly, or maybe I projected onto it what I wanted to see.

Global bestselling author Marc Levy (P.S. from Paris), bestselling author Kimberly Rae Miller (Coming Clean and Beautiful Bodies), author Jimin Han (A Small Revolution), discuss their experiences working with Amazon Publishing and how they create a community of readers through Amazon, social media, and events, in a conversation moderated by an Amazon Publishing Editorial Director, Carmen Johnson.

Within moments of starting, it became clear this panel was going to be a self-congratulatory, mutual-admiration circle-jerk to promote Amazon Publishing, rather than any kind of meaningful discussion from various perspectives (good, bad, and ugly) about working with Amazon Publishing. Not at all what I was looking for, and I left immediately.

The Madding Crowd

As always, whether as a reader, a writer, an editor, or a publisher, I enjoy walking the vendor booths at Brooklyn BookFest. For one thing, the park at Borough Hall is beautiful, and BookFest almost always has nice weather in September (though a little hot).

Most of the major traditional publishers (HarperCollins, Random Penguin, etc) were represented, as well as academic publishers with a presence in and about New York (I saw the Oxford, Columbia, and Princeton University Press teams, among others).

But the Brooklyn Literary Scene is a vibrant one, benefiting from its place in the shadow of Manhattan’s traditional publishing giants, and the plethora of indie book stores, and the talented writers (published and aspiring) who live and work in the area. As such, many more indie presses were in evidence, and no few indie authors as well, not to mention a number of booksellers, writing programs, and author services.

Altogether, it created an exciting tapestry of readers, writers, and all things literary. If you’re a lover of books, definitely make a date for next year’s Brooklyn Book Festival. I’ve already decided, I’m getting a table next year, so stop by and see me!

—33—

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#writinglife Brooklyn BookFest: A Retrospective | @MDellertDotCom Adventures in Indie Publishing Last week (September 11-17) was the Brooklyn Book Festival, one of the premiere book festivals in the US, and the largest free literary event in New York City.

#AskAuthor #AskEditor #AskPublisher #BrooklynBookFest

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