Unfortunately, I can feel a headache coming on and I know what will happen if I don’t squash it before it starts. I am going to sign off for now and possibly settle down with an informative JFK documentary. Who knows, I may find some other connection inside that will unveil more truths to the inhuman globalist agenda. I will see you tomorrow night, I hope.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown…”
November 23
Please stop, I can’t stand that screaming, the shrill drives me insane. Where does it come from, why is it here? All I want is for it to stop and go away. I want to be whole again; I want Natalie to come back. I can’t go on like this. The headaches, migraines, all of the misery, I just want it gone. Last night was one of the worst nights in my life. It sounded like a war raging inside every heartbeat and breath. I wanted to die. Please, help me end this.
As I woke today, the remnants of the anguish I felt last night was still visible in the mirror. My eyes sunken and my flesh is tattered almost withering toward nothingness. I can see my pronounced cheekbones rising from my skull. This torment is ravaging my body and corrupting my mind. Even at group today, I could feel the stares. Every one looked at me in ways I haven’t seen since being an enemy upon a foreign soil. I was an albatross, and if I don’t stop these voices soon, I will be gone.
I really thought that as I moved toward completion of this project, my entire being would improve. I figured my health and mental stability would progress toward living a full life without the therapy and drug induced impediments that I swear do more damage than good. I’m no doctor though, and I could be (and probably am) wrong about that. I am probably destined to deal with these monstrosities for the rest of my life.
I have nothing left to live for except my work on this project and even that is working toward eating my mental faculties. I want to finish, but am so afraid that the voices will never leave if I do. This is so miserable and I am starting to see the light before me reflecting off the sharp blade I stare at almost daily. Please leave, let me live. I’m not ready to see the blood again or taste the finality of death.
One group of people that don’t see concerned about meeting death is our religious leader and his army that is out in search of their Messiah. I wonder if he has found him yet, or ran into any infidels out to stop their journey toward the promised one.
I
As was written in the depths of darkness,
The wine of the strong will baptize the first born upon ascension,
Take, drink, this is my blood,
And through this offering, the young Messiah shall be ordained.
(The Revelation of Moloch 11.2)
Look beyond the fork at the plain of redemption that lay ahead. Listen to the cries of sorrow echoing among the emptiness held within the barren streets and embrace our reality. Thy Fathers’ prophecy is upon us and we must prepare for his coming. As the Gospel decrees, we must preserve the bloodline of the child and baptize the unwilling host to achieve our salvation.
As our journey nears sanctuary, I can feel the evil one approach. Have you felt it as well? This is not the first time that this being has crossed our path, they were there during a sacrifice and escaped confirmation. We must branch out and find the sinner before we can deliver the son to Thy Father. Our redemption cannot be achieved until we imprison this fiend in the heart of damnation and curse their souls to survive eternity like John with their head garnishing the platter upon the altar.
Do not waver in the face of evil, for this encounter has been foretold in scripture and our victory enshrined upon scrolls decreed as canon; just as the tablets of Moses guide the non-believers away from the idols of absolution toward a mirage of pleasure. Stand tall in the face of deceit, and remember that we shall provide the true path toward enlightenment for all, including the non-believers. For through the anguish one of our legions will earn their wings and raise one step closer to eternal salvation near the throne.
Let Us Pray
Lord of Light
We bow our head in praise
Your words have again provided the guidance
And your deeds have provided the direction
Hear our prayers and watch over us
The final steps toward salvation near
And the final battle lay ahead
As the Martyr comes from the East
A sinner lurks near us
Bless us as we fulfill your prophecy
Allow us the strength to baptize your son
For he is the Messiah and the Savior of Mankind
In your name, We Pray
Amen
II
What intensity found in those words. The depth of this mans verse and love for his father is amazing. Maybe he is telling me something; does he want me to reconnect with the church? Or start channeling to voices and recording what they are telling me? Is it possible that the visions and voices are not nightmares but prophecy of what is to become? If I remember some of my biblical history classes, that is what was in the material presented to us. Imagine that, me a prophet. Fuck that, there is no way I am a prophet. I am more likely to be insane and committed in a straightjacket then be a prophet.
As I sit here working on this project, I can’t help but allow the music in my headphones drown out the voices. When it works, it is so relaxing and it allows me to make some great progress on things. Fortunately, that is the case tonight, as the words and melodies have taken me far from this Hell. Unfortunately, there are times when the words and music lead me down a path that I am not yet ready to revisit.
Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground are one of those groups. No, not Heroin, although that is a classic, it would never be my drug of choice. Classics like Walk on the Wild Side, Sweet Jane, and Pale Blue Eyes conjure visions of Renae and the extraordinary journeys into silence we used to take before she was ravaged by the beasts. What I wouldn’t do to find a wormhole and travel back in time to save her. Things would likely be much different right now. Now, it’s The Cure, a band that has been a major influence on me since I heard Killing An Arab all those years ago.
I have to wonder what is going through the mind of Gabrielle right now, I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes. I am sure between the fear and the pain, things are about to hit the fan.
III
February 15 (Continued)
Baby, this is going to be short. I don’t know what I can do, I can’t move and the pains are overwhelming. Luckily, there seems to be some time before you pop out, so there is hope. The contractions seem to be random, I have been keeping track, it seems about 20 or 25 minutes apart.
I still don’t know what that sound is in the back of the store. Although, I thought I heard something move closer. I don’t smell anything or hear any of the groans that seem to follow those creatures, so I doubt it is any of them. It is probably a vagrant, or hobo, or someone like us, hiding from the destruction that surrounds us out in the streets. We are somewhat safe in here, and I want to stay that way.
Hold on Eli, I am sure we will find help soon. I love you!
IV
That was short and to the point, and at least she is maintaining her spirit in the face of such desperate times. I hope Morgan gains some strength and steps up to help her. I would hate to see her have to go through childbirth alone. That would definitely suck and likely be even more painful.
Speaking of pain, I need to take my medication and charge my computer. I am at 16 percent, and I don’t have a chord near me. I would hate to get started on another account and lose power. That would definitely transport me to a place that would bring the voices back. Right now, I think I drove them away with the playlist of mellow and alternative classics.
Good night everyone, I will try to return tomorrow and maybe knock out a few more of the accounts. I don’t have many left, so the end is definitely near.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“And God shall wipe away all tears from their e
yes…”
November 24
I wish I could have held out longer last night and continued with the project. Unfortunately, through the emotions contained in the events, those cries and tears that plague me started to return and I had to snuff them out before they drove me closer to that padded cell in Summit View. I do find it a bit ironic that the only mental institution that remains in the state sits in Summit View. I can’t help but feel that something is pulling me toward that oppressed community and I’m not sure what it is.
I’m really not sure about anything that is happening around me anymore. I feel like I am lost is some type of dimensional shift where nothing makes sense. I know some call it the Mandela Effect, where parts of the population share false memories. I’m not sure about what is real and not real. That’s right you damn bastards, its Berenstein Bears not Berenstain Bears, I know it is. Please stop fucking with our sanity and us. Don’t know what I am talking about, look up the Mandela Effect, and there are so many subtle changes that it is hard to keep track of them all.
I wish that this outbreak were just a false-shared memory. That is what those devious physicians at the clinic try to tell us. They keep pushing the narrative that none of this happened; that those of us affected by these memories suffered through an accidental discharge of a mind-altering toxin from one of the last steel plants in the region. Yeah right, that just fits with the globalist agenda of sending more of our jobs to China or India for cheap labor under the guise of environmental protection. If the majority of people in the United States were awake, they would see that this is just another power play from the elite.
Hell, if you dig into the detail of climate change, you will find that scientist at The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) were caught falsifying climate change data to meet directives established by the Scotereo Administration to back new tax regulations. That’s right, they manipulated the data to take more money from your pockets, and rape the country of even more jobs and potential growth opportunities.
Well enough of my rambling today, I must get back to these accounts. I have to continue with explaining what happened, so the signs will be known in the future. I hope it is never needed, but I am sure Orwell thought the same thing when 1984 was released. He really could have never foreseen the contempt that the governments would show for their populations and the way society would be manipulated. In many ways, we are living inside a dystopian world and 1984 is one of the blueprints (along with Rules for Radicals, but that is a conversation for a different day). There is an answer for the elites and their disdain for society, and that is 1776.
Speaking of a battle, I wonder what Morgan has decided to do. I would hate to be in her shoes, the decisions she must make could weigh on her soul forever. I can honestly say, I don’t know what I would do in this situation. And, I’m not sure that there is a right answer to make.
I
Hello up there, are you okay? What’s wrong, can I help you? I called to her, no answer. Maybe she is one of those creatures; maybe she is trying to draw me in before gorging herself on my flesh. Fuck that, I need some air. Fuck, why do I keep talking to myself? Am I going fucking insane, why didn’t she answer? I am alive and not looking down at these events from an astral plain, right? I need some air; maybe the cart return area will let me peer outside, I’m not even sure if the have doors. I can’t believe she didn’t hear me. I will have to try again. Yep, once I look outside, I will come back and try to reach her again.
We just may be in luck that looks like a Med Express across the street. I’m sure there are no doctors or nurses there, but the office should be better equipped to deliver a fucking baby than the Wal-Mart. Oh shit, what is that. No, not them, its those bastards from downtown. We will have to try to get out of here without being seen. That side street may work. Fuck, its one of those damn creatures. We won’t be able to go that way. We definitely need to get out if here, if those soldiers zero in on him, we will be caught in the crossfire. Plus, with the affinity for fire, shit!
Hello, I hope you can hear me, but we have to move and fast! I can see that you aren’t quite up to speed, but we are going to have some unwanted company. Shit, your’re in labor. Fuck, I was hoping that I was imagining that. There is a Med Express across the street. Hopefully, we can slide out of here while that battalion comes after the flesh-eater coming through the parking lot.
I’m Morgan by the way, nice to meet you. Don’t be offended by this, but you picked one Hell of a time to go into fucking labor. Couldn’t you have just barricaded yourself somewhere. Sorry, just a bit overwhelmed by the situation and panic is starting to set in. I don’t know if you believe in God or religious, but if not, this would be a great time to put that journal down and start praying. What the fuck am I doing? We need to get out of here and fast. Trust me, those soldiers will shoot first and never ask questions. If you want to live, and have that baby, follow me.
II
I can’t believe what is happening, talk about some bad luck. Incredibly, that strange military squadron is there. I still have no clue where they came from or their allegiance. Morgan definitely recognized them, which means they are the ones responsible for murdering the civilians trapped in the building. They definitely need to get out of there.
I hate to tell you what I just discovered. Trust me, it pains me as well. I just realized that the following few lines are the last ones in Gabrielle’s journal. While I’m not reading anything into that fact, I do find it troubling. I just hope that Gabrielle, Morgan, and especially Eli survived this encounter. One of the things I am going to search for (besides more information on the Revelation of Moloch) will be the birth records from this period to see if I can find either Gabrielle or Eli.
February 15 (Continued)
Eli, there may be a God after all. There is a woman in here with us and is going to help us escape and make it to the medical facility across the street. The next time I write in this journal, you will be in my arms. Remember that I love you and always will.
III
I don’t know what to think. I have never been a parent, so maybe she is just overwhelmed raising Eli on her own. I have heard that kids take up all of your extra time. Maybe she just stopped journaling and recording her thoughts. It would be much easier just to talk with him. Who knows, she may have found Isaac as well, and they could be living happily somewhere in the city.
While I debated stopping there for the night, I decided that I wanted to dive one more time into our lone zombie and see what he is up to. I have to wonder if he is the one that Morgan saw approaching the Wal-Mart. Yes, that would be a coincidence, but there is certainly some type of connection between him and Gabrielle. One can only wonder if that type of connection exists. Maybe if you love someone enough, you can feel their pain, and experience the swirling mess of emotions. I have never really experienced that, but it could happen.
(Click) Gabrielle, are you near? Is it you that haunts me in these times of solitude? I can hear a vague whisper of a dream I can almost remember and inside that dream is the lingering warmth of a forgotten touch. I know you are here somewhere. I can feel you in the darkness. While I am not the man you may remember on the outside, on the inside, I still find solace in the quiet moments of times I can barely recall.
As much as I would love change everything that has taken place between us, I understand that this new reality will cause you to push the limits of reason. But, I can still feel your love. It calls to me, urging me to cry out in anguish and give you a sign that I am near. Unfortunately, I know my weeping cries would only echo into the nothingness that has become my world.
I should have never left, or turned my back on the providence you offered me. Our memoir was written in blood to stand the test of time much like a history that was written in stone ages ago. Unlike those authors and every figure of antiquity that has faded away to the unknown, I don’t want to face this deafening vacuum alone. I don’t want to be left here to live in the shadow of a wraith
and I don’t want to fear the visions of what once was or a lost wish of what could have been.
I know it, and understand what I have lost, as I pray it remains still, waiting for me to discover it once more in the blackness of my empty soul. Gabrielle, will you really leave here alone to unearth the secrets held inside this tainted vault that was once my heart? I cannot stand the thought of not having you in my life, if that were to come to pass, I would be left as an undefined impression of all the possibilities that I previously held dear. I will become the void that ironically, I have always been a part of and have tried desperately to escape.
Our eternal love is a promise that has existed since the dawn of thought and a gift inherent in the very fabric of our souls. Today, that bond is shrouded by the actions of the depraved and the lies of those sworn to protect our affection. Deep inside, I know I am dead, and the memories of our once powerful love are concealed in ghostly images of all that should have been. I am trapped within the silence I hear it through the veil of time where your words reverberate in my core and I quiver, though in fear or anticipation, I cannot be sure.
Gabrielle, where are you? I want to reach out and grab you. I want you to understand how I feel inside. But, instead, I know there is an unseen specter lurking over my shoulder. This phantom has siphoned hope and left me with a dream I can almost touch. With every step, it visits the edge of my memories and lines them with silver and taunts me while my mind tries to take me back to you and our past. And its vanishing countenance stays with me through every breath.
If you are here darling, please give me a sign. For I don’t want to live any longer if, I cannot have you in my arms again. You are and always will be everything, and I will never stop searching for you. I love you. (Click)
IV
No more, please stop, I can’t take anymore of this tonight. I once felt that way, but that vile beast took her from me. The way it crawled over her, the way it dug his nails into her flesh, fuck! God, now it’s those fucking voices. Why did they come back? Fuck, kill me already, I am nothing, and I have nothing. Fuck!
The Ridge (Book 1): After the Static Page 17
