Uncle death poems

On that morning, I found myself in a science class. The details of the assignment escape me now, for all that remains etched in my memory is the intense dread that was about to unfold. In the blink of an eye, everything changed. The events that ensued happened so quickly.
It was awesome in the way that it was awe-inspiring, but the awe was for the sheer magnitude of abject fear. Without warning, my ears popped from a sudden and drastic change in air pressure. In the following instant, a jarring rumble shook the entire classroom, accompanied by a deafening blast that robbed me of breath. Instinctively, we abandoned our unfinished finals and we hastily made our way toward the aisle between the rows of desks, surprisingly maintaining a semblance of order.
The blaring fire alarm pierced through the air as our teacher wasted no time in guiding us out of the classroom. I felt like a lamb lead to slaughter. We followed the teachers' lead, navigating the corridors toward the nearest exit. As I turned a corner, my mother's classroom came into full view, and what I beheld was a nightmare made manifest.
A surreal terror gripped me, freezing me in place. My mother's classroom door, blown off its hinges, lay against the opposing wall in a splintered heap. The space between the door and frame was filled with an enraged inferno, desperately and forcefully bellowing from within. I was the observer who was now left to bear witness to this wake.
I don't know what compelled me to charge into that blazing fortress. Was it a delusion of invincibility? A desperate belief that I could save her like a superhero? Or was it a simple act of need, driven by an unexplainable force? I cannot say.
I pushed through the wall of flames and smoke, and I descended the staircase in a manner fitting of an infant; erratic, frantic, and without coordination. And there, at the bottom step, an unusual coldness enveloped me. Though darkness cast by the smoke enveloped everything, a faint glimmer from a small window illuminated my mother's desk.
A person who was wailing in apparent agony was across the room, however. The acrid stench of burning flesh and hair assaulted my senses, threatening to overpower me. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, granting me an unwelcome gift of sight. The horrifying images etched themselves deeply into my psyche—charred bodies strewn across the floor, their limbs twisted and contorted. Some still smoldered, consumed by thin lines of crimson crawling greedily along their blackened skin, reduced to ash.
The scene was catastrophic.
It was repulsive.
A nauseating sensation crept up from within, that familiar prelude to vomiting. I fought to suppress it, driven by a compelling instinct to find the crying emanating from an overturned desk in the far corner of the room.
"That must be my mom... she's still alive!" I thought so naively.
My path was obstructed by the lifeless forms of a classmates.Deep down, my gut warned me to leave the scene to my imagination, but I ignored its plea. Almost reaching the desk, my attention was drawn to yet another body lying in my path. This one was slightly larger than the others. It took only a moment to realize the unthinkable—this was my mother. Her right side was gruesomely absent, her eyes clouded with milky white, and her jaw hung slack. She had lost an arm... and a leg.
Dead.
My mother lay lifeless at my feet.
The sound of sobbing erupted again, originating from behind the desk. No discernible words, just heartbreaking sobs. Setting aside my grief for the moment, cloaked in shock, I left my mother's side to aid this person. The true magnitude of the disaster had not yet fully sunk in, the rationalization that no human could have survived.
The crying grew louder as I approached, echoing not only in my ears but in my thoughts. It drowned out the clamor of the alarms, urging me to forward. It was as if I had been ensnared in a waking dream, where the cries became my sole focus, blotting out everything else.
Reaching the desk, I cautiously peered behind it, my eyes drawn to a huddled figure in the corner. His blackened skin mirrored the others, and he possessed little remaining hair. Tremors coursed through his body as he faced the wall, his arms extended limply, hands hanging delicately from his forearms.
"HEY," I yelled, "We have to get out! There's a gas leak!" No response. Perhaps the explosion had damaged his hearing.
Instinctively, I reached out and grasped his hand. The moment our skin made contact, the crying ceased, and the tremors subsided. A new sense of startled unease washed over me. Slowly, he began to turn his head towards me, his neck moving with jerky, disjointed snaps. And then, I beheld his face. Wet leathery skin clung to his emaciated skull, while his wide eyes, milky grey and white, mirrored my mother's. Through a slackened jaw, browned teeth peered out of a mouth devoid of lips. His broken nose sat withered upon his face. His leathery skin continued down his nude and skeletal frame, with patches peeling off, revealing a putrid yellow fluid oozing from the infected wounds.
I stood there in shock, witnessing his convulsions and heaves. His head, rocking like that of a newborn, fixated on me. He took a long ragged, strained breath and released a sound unlike anything I had ever heard before. No, that's not the right way to describe it. The sound triggered a sensation within me, a feeling that wasn't entirely my own. I was engulfed by an overwhelming grief, an intense pain that consumed me entirely. Guilt as I had never known flooded me, threatening to drown me in its depths.
I recoiled from the desk, stumbling backward until I fell onto my mother's charred remains. A cloud of ash billowed forth, caressing my face as I gasped for air. I inadvertently inhaled the plume of my mother's ash. I vomited, tears and bile streaming uncontrollably. I began crawling on hands and knees as I distanced myself from the nightmare.
I crawled, then ran once I regained my footing. I ran out of that room, through the engulfing flames, through the school, and past my bewildered classmates.
Just keep running.
Eventually, I collapsed in a local park, where the police discovered me. I remember the cold, crisp grass caressing my face, leaving behind wet stains from its melting lash.
The officer who found me sat silently beside me in the field, offering no words of advice or encouragement but his simple presence was comforting in hindsight. He didn't rush me even when we both were shivering to our core once the cold lay with our bones.While the officer drove me home, I awoke to a reality that felt both distant and surreal. The following year slipped away in a haze, an amalgamation of twisting memories and blurred moments.
I found myself residing in my mother's home, under the temporary custody of my aunt and uncle. My aunt handed me a substantial sum of cash from the life insurance payout. It was an overwhelming amount for a seventeen-year-old to possess while grappling with the weight of responsibility. I failed so miserably.
The passing months merged, as if time itself was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. I teetered on the precipice, constantly oscillating between moments of intoxication and near unconsciousness. My days were spent in a perpetual state of chasing a fragile equilibrium. And so, as predictable and anticlimactic as it may sound, I succumbed to the overwhelming grip of a heroin overdose.
It was my aunt who discovered me in that state, a sight she never deserved to witness. She was far too good to be exposed to the wretchedness that had consumed me.
Preparing the syringe, I found a suitable vein, and sent the liquid bliss coursing through my veins. Was it my fifth hit? Sixth? More than I had ever done before. The rush surged through my body with an intensity I couldn't handle. My balance faltered, and I collapsed onto the couch, my head spinning in a disorienting haze. I slipped into unconsciousness, unaware of the vomit that spilled forth from my mouth. At the moment, I believe I was on the brink of death.
I vaguely remember my aunt's scream as she walked through the front door. I'm sure I looked just like the death I was longing for.
Rehabilitation became an inevitable path I had to tread, accompanied by a watchful eye to prevent any further harm. I grappled with a profound sense of worthlessness, despite the earnest efforts of those around me. Weeks bled into months, and progress towards my recovery became a slow, agonizing burn. No matter the tools and coping mechanisms I acquired, no matter the mental acrobatics I performed, I found myself sinking deeper into the abyss.
The insidious cravings for substances clung to my heart with sickening tenacity.
Over the following year, I retreated into seclusion. Depression became my constant companion, blurring the days together into an indistinguishable haze. I traded one vice for countless others, escaping reality through endless hours of pornography and video games, despising every fiber of my existence late into the solitary nights. Even in sleep, I found no respite.
My nights were tormented by relentless nightmares, unyielding in their pursuit of stealing away what little rest I had left. At my emotional nadir, I ceased to care for even my most basic needs. My body, an instrument of survival, was now perpetually hunched, bent by the weight of my deteriorating state. I had become a repugnant wreck, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within my mind. I was a mirror reflecting the distorted image of my decayed mentality.
The battle against my demons was impossible, and I was losing myself in the process. My life soon embarked on a transformative journey though, emerging from the tattered remnants of an existence that had unwittingly become my solace.
It began with a simple spark, an eruption of laughter that echoed through the air.
It was not a mere chuckle or a fleeting smirk; it was a belly-deep laugh that reverberated within me. The sound itself felt foreign, stirring a mixture of confusion and exhilaration. At that moment, I felt an immense pride swell within me.
Soon after, I shed my former self, transitioning from a reanimated corpse to an animated being. My newfound addiction became growth, and I pursued it with unwavering fervor. I constructed a fortress, a barricade capable of withstanding the relentless onslaught of my mind. I tamed the internal chaos that had consumed me, gradually reclaiming control over my destiny. With every step, I crawled my way up that treacherous mountain, resolute and unyielding.
Knowing that I had to venture beyond the confines of my childhood home to nurture my emotional development, I made a decision without hesitation. I relinquished my home to my aunt, packed my belongings, and began a new chapter with a journey to Florida.
I found refuge in a modest vacation cabin nestled amidst the serenity of the Everglades. I resided in splendid isolation. There were no neighbors for miles around, and the land I occupied belonged to a kind couple who were seldom present. The cabin was ensconced within a dense, humid forest—a lush sanctuary that provided me ample opportunity to confront my innermost thoughts, contributing to the arduous path of my recovery. Though the reclusive lifestyle persisted, I reveled in newfound freedom. The forest that encircled me was a testament to nature's magnificence.
It thrived with resplendent beauty, teeming with life and vibrant hues. The symphony of birdsong permeated the air, intertwining with the gentle hum of insects as the sun gracefully bid farewell to the sky, descending beyond the western horizon. It was a captivating contrast to the desolate nights I had once known. Occasionally, I would venture to an ocean-fed creek a mere stone's throw away from my dwelling, indulging in the peaceful art of fishing.
It was precisely what I had yearned for.
My life had become my own once again. Though the memories of that fateful night still carried a tinge of pain, they had become more bearable, more manageable. I was on the cusp of uttering those elusive words: "I am happy."
Until the nightly lamentations returned, the anguished cries piercing the silence, a relentless reminder of the entity that hunted me.
Sleep became an elusive luxury, for as darkness descended, the haunting wails shattered any chance of rest. The cries persisted, growing louder with each passing week. They invaded my sleepless nights, penetrating the silence of my room. I lay there, consumed by desperation, pleading for the torment to cease.
The cries filled my head and blocked out everything. It forced me to feel a torrent of forgotten pain. My barricade was fracturing. My rancor was waking up. My war returned with a windfall that left me breathless.
I broke so quickly.
So quietly.
Like sand in the palm of my hands, my joy slipped away through my fingers. My laugh died in my throat. The cries became a force that unleashed a deluge of forgotten anguish, shattering the barricade I had erected. Fatigue wore me down, transforming me into a mere shadow of my former self.
I became a captive in my mind. Yet, within the depths of my despair, a spark of hope still waivered amidst the chaos. I vowed to confront the source of this nocturnal torment, to unravel its strangling grip on my life. Then, one fateful night, I stirred from a nap that had inadvertently consumed me.
A strange sensation tugged at my mind, rousing me from my slumber. The room was shrouded in an eerie silence, the clock displaying the time as 1:26 am. With a sense of cautious curiosity, I rose from my seat and made my way toward the front door, spurred by a newfound audacity.
Perhaps I believed that by directly confronting this apparition, I could dispel my fears and bring an end to my relentless experience.
That night, the air was eerily calm, devoid of the usual screams. I pressed my face against the small window on the door, peering into the darkness beyond, half-expecting to find only an indistinct shadow. But to my astonishment, there it stood, staring back at me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. Our faces were separated by a mere fraction of an inch of glass, locked in a macabre face-to-face encounter. A cacophony of screams erupted, shattering the once-tranquil air and sending tremors through the very foundation of my home.
The feeble glow from the kitchen illuminated his face, etching its haunting contours deep within the recesses of my mind. His quivering jaw moved erratically, a grotesque dance of opening and closing with each labored breath. Each exhale birthed a clinging mist, smearing the glass with intricate patterns reminiscent of inkblots, transforming its pristine surface into a testament of eerie artistry.
His vacant eyes remained fixed ahead, devoid of recognition as if ensnared within the merciless clutches of unyielding madness. With unsteady steps, he gradually retreated, his form eventually shrinking into a crouched position mere feet away from my door. There was no denying the undeniable presence before me. Fear, curiosity, and a twisted fascination intertwined within me, forming a turbulent whirlwind of conflicting impulses.
Who was he? What did he want? Questions plagued my mind, but answers eluded me. It was as if this apparition had materialized from the depths of my darkest nightmares, haunting my reality with its unsettling presence.
Though an unsettling truth sat within me, there was no denying the raw reality of his existence. This was no figment of my imagination; it was a chilling encounter with a realm beyond comprehension. My scream tore through the air, an instinctual response fueled by a surge of primal emotions. No coherent words could encapsulate the overwhelming turmoil within me.
I had escaped across the country to flee from this torment, yet here it was, huddled just feet away, mocking my desperate attempt at solace.
It felt like a cruel joke my own mind was playing on me. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shouted, my voice cracking as tears streamed down my face.
"PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" My cries resembled the agonized wails of a wounded and trapped animal, raw and untamed.
Outside, the creature continued its relentless screams, rising to its feet with an eerie, disjointed movement. It approached my door, its contorted posture resembling a grotesque bending of the body, skin tearing as it leaned. Yellow fluid oozed from its wounds.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I yelled again, unleashing a surge of pent-up emotion that had been dormant for far too long.
But my plea fell upon rotting ears that could not comprehend or sympathize. It reached my door. I had rehearsed this moment in my mind during my early days in the forest.
Over and over, I had imagined how I would confront and eradicate this embodiment of my deteriorating sanity. Suicide was not my desire, but I had chosen this entity as the symbol of my mental decline, the entity that needed to be eliminated. Driven by panic and instinct, I grabbed the fire axe hanging above my table, my body moving mechanically as I propelled myself toward the barrier that separated us. A wordless scream of terror, revulsion, and hatred erupted from deep within me as I crashed through the door, my clenched teeth unable to contain the overwhelming intensity of my emotions.
The creature was struck by the door, its body forcefully pushed backward, eliciting a feral gasp from its throat. Now, I was determined to end it.
"Kill it." "Kill me." "Candle." "KILL." The words reverberated in an unsettling loop within my mind, out of sync with each other, fueling my purpose as I prepared to face the culmination of my anguish.
In a whirlwind of uncontrolled movement, I tumbled down the steps, my body flailing as I crashed onto the unyielding ground. Before I could fully process the fall, I found myself on my feet, instinctively rising without conscious thought.
And there it was, face to face with me, its breath uncomfortably warm and sticky against my skin. The putrid stench of decay invaded my nostrils, causing me to recoil in fear and repulsion. Backing up until I was pressed against the wall of my house, I felt my courage waver, my resolve crumble. I realized I was not strong enough, not capable of facing this. Then, it screamed, convulsed, and trembled before me, its milky eyes fixed on an unseen horizon.
Its hands stretched out, reaching for something beyond my comprehension. With that scream, a surge of courage and rage flooded my being. It was the same as it had been all those years ago in the school, an overwhelming flood of emotions that were not truly mine to feel.
It's difficult to articulate, but I embodied those emotions and allowed them to engulf me, to consume me.
"Kill."
The word reverberated relentlessly in my mind. Springing forward with a primal scream, I swung the axe with all my might, the blade sinking deep into its side. The sensation of bone deflecting the force of my strike is etched into my memory, never to be forgotten.
Blood and other fluids sprayed from the wound as it took a few faltering steps to the side, pushed by the momentum of my assault. The creature ceased its cries, its tremors, its breath. Time stood still as it finally turned to look at me. Fear rooted me in place, holding me captive in its gaze. We stared at each other, locked in a moment that felt like an eternity.
Foul breath washed over me once more, seeping into my senses. Beyond that, nothing happened. We simply stood there, locked in a silent exchange. I willed my frozen bones to thaw, my mind transitioning from terror and frenzied rage to... something else.
It wasn't pride, but rather a different, indescribable emotion. Yet, it carried a sense of triumph, I believe.
Unbeknownst to me, it had reached out and gently grasped my arm, its touch going unnoticed until it began to speak.
"I never... meant to... scare you..." he rasped, his voice torn and ragged, struggling to emerge between shallow breaths. "I'm sorry... this has to... happen to... you..." its words filled with agony and desperation. Tears welled up in its eyes, a flicker of pain crossing its face as its ragged hand clutched at the axe lodged in its new laceration. "Please... kill... me..." he wheezed, his plea reverberating in my mind and reaching my ears simultaneously. With its other hand, it gripped the axe and brought the blade to its neck. "Kill me... candle... kill. NOW!"
The final word echoed like an explosion within my head as its hand pressed against my face. Everything plunged into darkness for a fragmented moment as I swung the axe. Suddenly, I felt myself hurtling through space, a void engulfing me. The air grew cold, and the wind whipped past, intensifying the disorienting descent.
I screamed in a frenzy of confusion and terror, my voice lost in the abyss. Downward I plummeted, faster and faster, the nauseating sensation overwhelming me. In the distance, far below, a growing light pierced through the darkness. Fresh tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision and making it difficult to gauge the proximity of the light, and how much time remained before I would be halted by the unforgiving ground. But it was rapidly approaching.
I squeezed my eyes shut, unleashing a defiant scream that echoed through the void. In the face of imminent death, I summoned every ounce of defiance within me. "I want to live." The words echoed in my mind, a fervent plea repeating like a mantra. I curled into a protective ball, bracing myself for the impending impact that would mark my brutal end.
Seconds stretched into eternity as I awaited the inevitable. Then, with a soft and gentle thud, I collided with the ground, the impact far less severe than anticipated. A feeble whimper escaped me, carrying away the remnants of my shattered pride. Slowly, I uncoiled my limbs and remained still, a mix of confusion and exhaustion paralyzing me.
Was this death? Or had I somehow managed to survive? At the very least, I was conscious. I reached out with my hands, feeling the texture of the hardwood floor beneath me. Rolling onto my back, I extended my arms as far as they would go, searching for walls that eluded my touch, instead only finding a formless nothingness. I released a weak, triumphant sigh, throwing my arm in the air, and darkness claimed me once more, my consciousness slipping away.
When I awoke, I found myself in an unfamiliar hallway, illuminated by an ethereal light. Glancing around from my position on the floor, I took in the details of my surroundings. The hallway stretched endlessly in both directions, its warped and aged dark wood floors covered in a thick layer of dust.
On each side of me, two doors stood, adorned with handles veiled in shadows. Illuminated by flickering candles, the doors cast dancing shadows on the faded white paint. Ornate red and gold walls framed the hall, extending into the distance without interruption.
The air hung still, thin, and cold, creating an atmosphere of eerie stillness. Summoning my strength, I pushed myself upright, drawing a reflexive breath, only to find that my lungs refused to cooperate. I couldn't draw in the air, an unsettling revelation that further shook my already fragile state. Yet, amidst the disquietude, an unexpected acceptance settled upon me.
"Maybe I truly am dead," I mused, "and perhaps this is limbo or some other realm beyond the realm of the living."
Standing before the doors, I reached out and brushed off the accumulated dust, my fingers tracing patterns on the bronzed knobs. With hopeful anticipation, I attempted to turn the knob of the door on my right, but it remained resolute, refusing to yield.
Disheartened, I turned my attention to the door on my left, hoping for a different outcome. Yet, once again, my efforts proved fruitless. The doors remained firmly shut, denying me entry. A sense of resignation settled over me as I contemplated the possibility that I had indeed entered a realm of limbo or purgatory, where the deceased wander aimlessly, seeking answers and respite.
If there were lessons to be learned or tasks to be fulfilled, I had yet to discover them. But the absence of purpose, the prospect of eternal nothingness, weighed heavily on my soul. With a deep breath, I made the conscious decision to venture further into the darkness, forsaking the dwindling light behind me. Hours turned into an indeterminate passage of time as I traversed the boundless corridor, my hand tracing the cold surface of the wall for guidance.
Fatigue and hunger eluded me, further reinforcing the notion that I had in fact died.
If this was the extent of my existence, an eternal cycle of aimless wandering, I yearned for something more. The prospect of mere nothingness, devoid of purpose or meaning, felt like a reality abandoned by the gods themselves. Determination and desperation mingled within me, urging me to maintain my pace and to keep moving forward despite the gnawing uncertainty.
And then, a sudden burst of light ruptured the darkness behind me, catching me off guard. The icy tendrils of fear gripped my chest, causing me to flail and stumble, my yelp swallowed by the void. With a surprising display of grace, I rolled with the fall and swiftly turned around, propelled by a desperate longing. Desperation fueled my actions as I lunged for the handle of the nearest door, seeking an anchor to halt my momentum.
The handle remained steadfast, unyielding, as it abruptly halted my chaotic trajectory. Reality began to fracture, the veil of ignorance slowly lifting. Could I truly be dead? The realization dawned upon me, shattering the feeble illusion of safety and acceptance.
I wasn't okay. I wasn't safe. The weight of my unease bore down upon me, threatening to consume what little resolve remained. In the face of uncertainty, I whispered the truth that echoed within my being:
"I'm not okay."
With a surge of determination, I clutched the doorknob with both hands, pouring every ounce of strength into my attempt to pry it open. I threw my weight against the door, pulled, hit, kicked, and pleaded in a desperate frenzy.
But the door remained steadfast, unyielding to my relentless assault. Exhausted and defeated, I crumpled against the door, collapsing to my knees, and buried my face in my folded arms. The tears flowed freely once again as a sense of hopelessness enveloped me.
What was the point? There was nowhere to go, no escape from this interminable realm. I was trapped, imprisoned within my own personal purgatory. This was my punishment.
I rolled onto my side, curling into a tight ball, clutching my legs close to my chest. I surrendered to the inertia that consumed me. I ceased all efforts, resigned to my fate. Time lost all meaning as I lay there, motionless, accumulating layers of dust upon my immobile body.
Months or perhaps years passed in this stagnant state. The weight of my surrender bore down upon me, and I grew stagnant in body and spirit.
But amidst the stillness, a small voice emerged from the depths of my being, offering shards of defiance. It urged me to continue, questioning why I should give up. The relentless nagging of that voice eroded the staleness of my resolve.
And so, with great effort, I yielded to the persistent beckoning within. I began to stir, my brittle bones creaking and cracking in response to the tentative movements. Every inch of my being protested, muscles screaming in protest, as I defied the inertia that had held me captive. The desire for something different, something more, ignited within me.
My body clung stubbornly to the remnants of my self-imposed stagnation, resisting the momentum of my will. But I knew I had to move. "Just move." I whispered those two simple words to myself, a mantra to defy the stillness.
And with each painful twitch and every tear in my flesh, I pressed forward, compelled by the belief that there had to be more to this existence. The hallway, once shrouded in darkness, was now ablaze with the furious glow of burning candles, illuminating every inch of the endless walls adorned with white doors.
Shielding my eyes from the searing exposure, I recoiled from the scorching heat that radiated from the flames. The blinding light pierced through the cracks between my fingers, growing in intensity with each passing moment. But as I cautiously peered through the gaps in my fingers, a sight greeted me that filled my heart with renewed hope.
There, at the end of the hallway, lay a continuation beyond the confines I had known. A surge of determination coursed through my veins, igniting a fire within my soul. Clinging to the wall for support, I willed my feeble legs to carry me forward, pushing past the pain that resonated with each step. I moved with a shaky shuffle that evolved into a stiff, determined speed walk.
In retrospect, I can only imagine the nightmarish image I presented. But at that moment, all I wanted was to reach the end, to embrace the promise it held.
With each passing door, I caught glimpses of their numbered plaques. 37, 39, 41, 43... The numbers ascended, propelling me forward as I squeezed my eyes shut, running with unwavering determination. The intensity of the light multiplied, searing through my closed eyelids, triggering a symphony of pain that reverberated through every fiber of my being.
Perhaps I should have gauged the distance to the end, but in my blind pursuit, I collided with the wall with a resounding thud. The impact broke my nose, sending shockwaves of agony coursing through me, and I tumbled to the floor, disoriented and wounded.
As my body sprawled upon the ground, the once-illuminated candles in the hallway extinguished one by one, enveloping the space behind me in impenetrable darkness.
Yet, amidst the obscurity, one candle remained defiantly aflame—the candle beside the door labeled #158. Its flickering glow drew my gaze, anchoring me to the present. Candle. The word reverberated within the recesses of my mind, its significance echoing relentlessly. And then, like a distant echo from the past, a strained and familiar voice permeated my thoughts.
"Kill Candle," it urged, a haunting reminder of the encounters I had faced. The voice, bearing the same ragged quality that had sent chills down my spine before, emerged from the darkness, piercing the silence with its command.
A low, ominous rumble stirred in the distance, a sound foreign and unsettling to my ears. It started as a mere murmur, barely perceptible, but gradually swelled in volume, intensifying with each passing moment. The air itself seemed to thicken with unsettling energy, a growing force that permeated the surroundings. It was the sound of impending doom, a creeping darkness that threatened to swallow everything in its path. As the rumble resonated through the depths of my being, a profound unease settled within me.
It crawled beneath my skin, coiling around my bones with a chilling grip. The sensation of impending nothingness clawed at my very core, filling me with a deep-seated dread. It was a fear unlike any I had ever experienced, a realization that I stood at the precipice of an inevitable and irrevocable end.
The weight of this knowledge settled heavily in the pit of my stomach, a visceral stab of anxiety that sent tremors through my entire being. It was a fallible end, an abrupt cessation that promised a complete and utter halt to existence.
Each passing second amplified the intensity of this foreboding, like a storm gathering strength before it unleashes its fury. The world around me seemed to hold its breath as if bracing for the impending collision with an unimaginable void. In the face of this encroaching darkness, I stood transfixed, caught between fight and flight. The rumble grew louder, reverberating with an eerie resonance as if the very fabric of reality quivered under its weight.
It was a sound that defied explanation, an insidious reminder of the fragility of existence. And as the seconds ticked by, each one laden with a mounting sense of doom, I could not shake the feeling that something irrevocable was drawing near.
With trembling hands, I clutched the doorknob, desperately trying to twist it open. But it remained stubbornly locked, unmoving against my frantic efforts. The rumble grew louder, reverberating through the corridor, an unstoppable force closing in on me. Panic surged within me, urging me to shake the door with wild desperation.
But still, it resisted, unyielding to my futile attempts. "Kill. Candle." The words thundered in my mind, echoing over the impending chaos that threatened to consume me. It was a command, a directive to extinguish the flame. In a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, I realized what I had to do. I reached out, smothering the candle's flame with my bare hand.
And at last, the door swung open, as if I had unlocked an ethereal barrier. But as the door gave way, I was violently thrust forward, pulled into the void that lay beyond. The deafening roar receded, replaced by a disorienting rush of motion as I spun and flailed, completely at the mercy of the unseen forces at play. Control slipped from my grasp once more, leaving me to surrender to the unknown. Abruptly, the tumult ceased, and I found myself standing outside my own house, a surreal tableau frozen in time.
There, I witnessed an enigmatic moment, a version of myself suspended mid-swing, the axe poised to strike the creature's neck. It was a fractured moment of the reality I had left behind, a moment frozen in space and time.
Taking a hesitant step forward, I was abruptly hurled back into my own body, the fractured fragments of my existence reuniting. Time resumed its course, and I felt the weight of the axe as it carried out its intended purpose.
The blade connected with a solid, metallic impact, tearing a new rift in the fabric of reality. I was again plunged into a jarring darkness, the whirlwind of confusion was the only thing familiar anymore. My axe had struck something tangible, something solid.
The musty scent of familiarity, reminiscent of my high school days, filled the air, punctuating the otherwise suffocating silence. In an instant, my vision returned, but with a disorienting rush accompanied by dizzying vertigo.
I found myself standing in the classroom where my mother used to teach, a place I hadn't set foot in for years. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I turned my gaze to the left, and there she was, my mother, staring at me in disbelief.
A collective gasp rose from the students, their eyes fixed upon me with a mixture of fear and horror. The weight of their stares pressed upon me, making me acutely aware of the unusual circumstances I found myself in. At that moment, my attention was drawn to my own hands in an unfitting sense of embarrassment. And there, I noticed the axe embedded in the gas line, emitting an ominous hiss that sliced through the eerie silence.
My eyes darted back to my mother, and on her desk, illuminated by a solitary burning candle, my gaze fixated. The word echoed relentlessly in my mind, its significance growing with each repetition.
"Candle. The candle. The candle..."
In a reflexive surge of urgency, I released my grip on the axe, discarding any semblance of thought, and propelled myself toward the desk, driven by a desperate need to extinguish the flame.
But my efforts were in vain, for as my fingers reached out, a catastrophic chain of events unfurled before me. In an instant, the classroom erupted in a fierce conflagration, an inferno that devoured everything in its path. The sheer force of the explosion shook the very foundation of reality, hurling me against a wall, my body crumpling behind a nearby desk.
Charred and broken, my form bore the scars of the blast, yet my consciousness stubbornly clung on. I felt pain unparalleled to any other I'd experienced so far. Amid the chaos, I gathered myself and began to crawl toward my mother's mangled figure. She lay there, torn asunder, yet desperately still clinging to life.
With every ounce of strength left in me, I painstakingly dragged my injured body toward her, my movements a testament to sheer determination. My hand reached out, seeking connection, but instead encountered a severed limb.
Undeterred, I reached my mother and she extended her remaining arm, seizing my hand with a desperate grasp, our bond unbroken even in the face of such devastation. "Mom!" I sobbed, my voice choked with anguish. Tears streamed down my face as I knelt over her broken form. "Mom... I'm sorry!" I cried out, my words punctuated by deep sobs.
"I'm so sorry, Mom!"
Her eyes met mine, and in that delicate moment, she mustered all she had to utter a sweet whisper. "I love you," she managed, a feeble attempt at a smile gracing her lips.
But as her grip weakened, her hand slipped away, surrendering to the pull of gravity. I collapsed once more, pressing my head against her scorching shoulder, the flames from her burning clothes licking at my tear-soaked eyes.
At that moment, the searing pain of loss eclipsed any physical pain I might have felt. A surge of bile rose in my throat as the full weight of the tragedy unfolded upon me. The realization struck with cruel clarity—I hadn't succeeded in extinguishing the candle.
I had failed once again, repeating the cycle for the 158th time. The weight of my failure bore down on me, crushing my soul into a cloud of fine dust to be carried away with the hellfire that consumed my surroundings. I needed to escape from the desolation I had wrought.
Crawling on hands stained with her blood, I retreated to the corner of the room, seeking refuge behind a desk. My arms hung limply at my sides, my body trembling with a mixture of guilt and revulsion. I didn't want to touch anything, especially not myself. I recoiled from my own skin, my hands, the instruments of her demise. I wanted to shed my skin as it pressed its decrepit form ever closer to my heart.
"I killed my mom," I whispered, the words heavy with self-condemnation. I trembled uncontrollably, consumed by my otherworldly screams of anguish and sorrow that shattered the air. Suddenly, a voice pierced the chaos from behind me.
"Hey!" it yelled urgently. "We have to get out! There's a gas leak!" A hand reached out and grabbed mine. As I turned to face the source, a jolt of recognition coursed through me—I was staring at myself. Another version of me, yet somehow different, younger. At that moment, I realized with terror that I had become the embodiment of the nightmare.
I screamed a primal cry of disgust and horror, forcing the other me to retreat in a frightened flurry. Days have passed since then.
I write these words with dwindling autonomy, pleading for help, for someone to find me, the other me.
Find him. I beg you, whoever reads this, to search for him, and tell him what he must do. Please, tell me what I must do. The grip on my self-control weakens with each passing moment. The relentless compulsion to find the other version of myself consumes my every thought. I fear I can no longer hold myself back for another day. I need to give you more time. I need more time. He needs to break this cycle.
He must reach the candle.

My uncle ( Mama) was a train driver with Indian railways who disappeared oin 1997. He was never seen again , ever , never was a body found . We kept receiving blank calls for next 2 months ( unfortunately there was no caller id ). After 7 years he was declared dead and his job and belongings and property passed onto wife who remarried.
He was on duty and was supposes to drive Shalimar Express from Ghaziabad to Saharanpur.
Astrologers say he is alive but mentally not good , he will come back on his own. Police as usual didnt care much. Meanwhile 1 year later somebody mentioned they had spottef him in Roorkee ( almost 120 km away from place ).
What we knew : 1) He was depressed because of societal pressure about unability to have kids. 2) One of the family member was cash skimming him fnd taking him drinking . He was the last person who was with him. 3) His degrees were not found. 4) His bag was recovered next to a river , but the river barrage was regularly checked for next 6-7 months for dead bodies , none was found. 5) He left his Office ID at home , which means there was no plan to drive the train at first place.
What makes me sad is that I was there , he gave his everything for everyones happiness but the society , our family members didnt support him. I mean he had 3 plots in Vasundhra Ghaziabad which cost at least 5 lakh per , which were sold by his wife aftet his death for crores.they used to discuss IVF and other procedures and then laugh about it , what will falana and dhimkana say...
Worst for me is the same people who led to his mental downfall are still kept in high regard , even by my family members.
Just remembering the forgotten , I am sure you have them as well.

I can hear your melody across the sea, I can hear your melody in you and me. No matter where you are, you still have my heart. No matter where you are, I will be.
Until death do us part, the memory will live. If one is to forget, the other will forgive.
Meaning: It follows the nihilistic belief that “nothing lasts." As a result of that belief, the new idea is formed that when you care about someone so much and they care about you, no matter what happens, even when everything between you is dead, even when you lose them completely, the connection you two share will still be alive; you can just feel it.
The last two lines throw off the meaning. I added the lines because of the possibility that this person forgets and moves on. That doesn’t make the other lines any less true, even if that’s the case. Like the phrase “if you love them, you’ll let them go,” you would have to let them go at that point. The title isn’t the key takeaway, but it plays into the nihilistic tone that no matter how strong a relationship is, even the memory will end.
I don’t think of this as a sad poem because it’s a description of true love. It’s too beautiful to be sad. Maybe this is the kind of beauty that would make you cry.
Feedback 1, Feedback 2.

This is in Arizona.
My father is a beneficiary of his father's estate and I think the executor (my dad's brother, also a beneficiary) may have breached his fiduciary duty and stolen at least $70,000 out of the estate. Here's the situation:
My grandpa died back in 2015. My dad, whose relationship with his other two siblings isn't close, stayed someone distanced from the disposition of the estate for the sake of not causing friction in what little relationships were still there. From what I understand, he's never even actually seen a copy of the will for himself. Some things I've heard in conversation over the past few years have bubbled back up for me as I've been working on the estate planning portion of my CFP education and I want to make sure things are being done justly to my dad and his sister (the other non-executor beneficiary). My biggest concern is around my grandpa's house. Here's a rundown:
-Grandpa dies in January 2015.
-Uncle (executor), for some reason, waits until February 2018 just to open probate.
-Uncle, as executor, sits on Grandpa's house until February 2020 (5 years post-death!) when he sells it to HIMSELF. This is where things start to really seem wrong to me. From what I've gathered, the other siblings were verbally notified of this transaction, but were largely not involved.
Here's the situation on the real estate transaction.
When my grandpa died, his house was worth about $127,500. When the executor finally sold the house to himself 5 years later in Feb 2020, it was worth around $200k, BUT he sold it to himself for "2015 FAIR MKT VALUE $127,500," as recorded on the deed that he drafted himself. My dad and my sister each received 1/3 of $127,500 for their share. The way I see it, my uncle instantly stole ~$70k out of the estate when this transaction occurred. Shouldn't it have been sold at a fair market value for 2020 at the time of the sale? Had it been sold to a third party, he clearly would have listed it for ~$200k. What makes me angrier, is that after buying the house for himself at a $70k discount, he then proceeds to rent it out as a landlord at current market rent, all of which he pockets for himself.
Considering the will designated a 1/3 split between the children, I believe my uncle (executor of the estate) has disproportionately, or even illegally, benefited from the estate. I wish I had caught it sooner, but only now am I starting to become formally educated on this stuff. It makes me wonder how else he may skimmed off the estate for himself that I'm not aware of yet. I've requested the full list of records associated with the probate case to review for myself.
The biggest question I have out of al of this: Was the $70k discounted self-dealing home purchase legal at all? I know there's a step up in basis to the date of death for beneficiaries and I think that's the logic my uncle tried to use. However, when he FINALLY sold it for the estate 5 years later, it had appreciated by about $70k. Had he sold it on the market instead of to himself at a discount, a full $200k sale price would have resulted in ~$23.3k more inheritance each for my dad and my aunt. Is there any recourse here? It seems like felony-level fraud to me and I want to make sure everything is done right by my dad and my aunt.
Edit: Probate was closed in 2022, but I'm hoping there is still some recourse.

Context, last year I was head over heels for a girl who put little to no effort into the relationship in return, I was conflicted by her actions and our experiences all the while i was reading 1984 by George Orwell. I wrote this at a desk in a school hallway in isolation.
Genre: General essay?
14.5.24
To my love,
I’m stuck sitting in isolation with absolutely nothing to do. I’ve crammed so much of 1984 into my head that I’ll need to push some of it out. 1984 is a lot to read. Maybe it’s the way I read it or maybe it’s the pacing but sometimes I'll be reading it and find myself relating to it in a way. A quote stuck with me;”He pulled her round so that they were breast to breast; her body seemed to melt into his.” It reminded me of way back in the abandoned Asda stairwell when I melted into her- semi-conflicted between love and lust. After the stairwell got closed off; I felt as though I had lost a part of me too. I even found another stairwell but I knew it wouldn't be the same. It would feel forced, like how I turned her into me so that we could face each other. Sure it wasn’t with the intention of making out but it wasn't thought through first- almost impulsively. In1984, a couple pages later, it speaks about the kisses turning hard; unlike the smooth, butter-like melt they were before. I can feel that. It’s almost vivid. I feel as though after the thing with Austin, everything kinda crashed. When [NAME] had red hair, it was almost like she was infatuated with me. When she dyed it back to normal, I felt as if I had lost that. I could be delusional but when she said she hated who she was with the red hair, it kinda stuck with me. Overall, It’s very on-off. One moment I find myself fantasizing about marriage; the next, I see myself breaking up with her on the horizon. But after that first DM on insta, I promised myself it wouldn’t be a repeat of everyone else, she wouldn’t be a lesson or a test, she would be the practical, the real fucking thing. The one who kept me up at night simply with the thought of her. Is it bad if I relate to WInston? Lost and conflicted within society and using writing and reading as a means of escape. It isn’t necessarily illegal but the stuff I write feels like it could be critiqued in a way that makes it resistant- pushing against the normal methods of writing. Actually, I despise Winston. He let temptation overcome him. Sure, his environment may have dictated him into fantasizing rape but I still think that shit’s inexcusable. He still thinks fondly of it afterwards when having sex as well. Orwell is so fucking good at writing though. How can someone write so vividly that I have to stop, think and reflect upon my life and experiences. I think I’ll show [NAME]this paper. I’m not 100% sure she’ll read it; my feelings tend to be insignificant to her. But if someone wrote something about me, I’d be ever-so-curious to find out their perspectives. I also find it quite funny how Winston blabbers on to Julia about death but she abruptly shuts him up. Maybe that’s why she wanted me to read it (I need to stop yapping about death in situations where it’s uncalled for). When I write this, it’s like I’m texting her but she isn’t texting back. Or it’s like when I say something drunk with the drowsiness of fatigue and she reads it in the morning and that shit doesn’t hit the same AT ALL. I still remember when she was in Nottingham and we called the entire night. A part of me hopes that next time she calls (if she even does) we will get back into the swing of things and we can rebuild that bond. But for it to happen, I need to take a step back and stop being so fucking high maintenance. I’m constantly writing. My head has an endless flowing dialogue of words waiting to be scribed but not all of them do. Sometimes it feels like i feel too much; I feel so much; so much so that it numbs me to feeling. I’m not sure if you can relate but it’s like bubble wrap almost. Pumped up with feeling, any other emotion bounces right off. Or like a mental paracetamol, that kind of numbness. When [NAME] said that paracetamol burns holes in your stomach; I guess that's why when I feel numb, the words pour right out. Mental paracetamol should be a coined term. I feel like Shakespeare when I say that. Actually, right now, I feel like I’m in a void, a medium almost. A confined corner; trapped by the constant sounds of expensive dress shoes slamming against the hallway floors. I hope she reads this. I hope anyone reads this. I am seeking attention even in solitary confinement. I guess it’s inevitable for “just another kid with ADHD''. I think I’d like to write a book for her. Not in a puppy love-esque way; instead to make something she can enjoy. I’d have to binge a fuck -tonne of feminist literature to make it work. I’d have to live, breathe and regurgitate Sylvia Plath just to make something enjoyable for her (I’m kidding of course). (Not really). I’ve written so much- this could probably count as a fucking book. I’m not sure where she would even find the time to read this. She’ll probably lump it alongside the Smint container (filled with poems for her) to read when we break up. I think perspective changes a lot about a book. It’s not entirely how a book is written; instead, it’s about how you approach it or how you are introduced to it. I’ve been very pessimistic and pushy-away-ey recently. Regardless, I won’t cross anything out unless it’s a typo. I think it indirectly shows progression of a character especially when it’s in the form of hypophora almost. I want to write the best book ever and then die and have no-one read it. I think that's more significant than writing a shitty book and campaigning and promoting and all this consumerist bullshit. If you were proud of your work, you wouldn’t promote it, you would let it find its reader. For me, I’d put it in those tiny bird box community libraries that no one uses. Therefore, if someone craved my work, they could find it in a place they wouldn't look for it. Not for my book to gather dust on a tall decorative bookshelf. This is a bit of a rant i know. SOmetimes I’ll yap and let the words flow instead of actively writing them. Writing words is the worst way to write. You need to apply emotion and let the words unravel themselves. At least, that’s how I write, critique it however the fuck you want. I was once told that my writing is like a conversation- you know the ones where the other person keeps blabbering and you can’t get a word in. I don’t read enough to know if it’s unique or not but I know why I do it. It’s like I’m conversing with myself. I might throw a name in there or add some direct address. This might be breaking the fourth wall a bit but i guess the entire nature of this essay is. I need to read over my writing one day- I hate to do it but I think I’d learn a lot about myself if i did so. My writing feels a little bit lost at sea. It’s very jumpy from one topic to the next- like scrolling on tiktok. Also, I think there's a mix of me searching for empathy via slight victimization and undertones of slight narcissism. I’m probably over analyzing but I like my writing. Me personally, i get lost in the labyrinth of the lines and curvature of the letters. Will i regret writing so much? I mean sure, I guess a part of me will live on forever in my writing. But, then again, it’s wasting my life. I’d like to live- living is not writing. Living is not reading. To live is to experience with every sense possible. If I see, I am not living. If i smell, I am not living. But, to hear, to smell, to feel, to see and to taste simultaneously is to live. When living isn’t enough, I can understand why people resort to reading and writing. It’s ever-so-simple. I wish I can see [NAME] soon though. I’ll wish for it at 22:22 if i have to. Or on a shooting star. Or maybe even on a stray eyelash. I miss you[NAME]. I was going to say “I crave you” but that’s too sexual and comes with a million connotations. Saying “I require you” is too formal and needy. I think I should stick to the usual. What if i didnt say “I miss you” but instead I said “I miss your warm and enveloping embrace.” Maybe then she would text back.
This is fucking delusion,
From yours truly,
Raffy

I know several examples of people growing up in two parent homes who turned out worse than people in single parent homes. My parents are prime example of that. Both my parent's parents were married for over 70 years, yet my parents have more issues than me, & I grew up in a single parent home. My mom & her siblings have many issues stemming from childhood, resentment, self esteem issues, & some of them always wants the approval of others. My maternal grandfather was a great father & grandfather, but he allowed my grandma to control everything & my grandma was never the best parent to do that because she herself had her own issues & terrible judgment (according to stories). I even overheard my maternal grandma confronting my grandpa about an affair he had years ago. So obviously their marriage had their issues. My father's parents? Even worse. My paternal grandfather AND my grandmother had numerous affairs on each other, they were poor, & they weren't the best parents either. My grandma would brag about how she was never a loving mother to her children, and referred to her grandchildren as "mfs". My paternal grandfather wasn't a hands on dad either. There's stories about my grandma always being the one to provide for the family, meanwhile my grandpa was at the nearest bar getting drunk. My dad & his siblings turned out bad too. One uncle drank himself to death, another uncle died from an overdose. And a couple of aunts were also on drugs. My dad did fairly well for himself considering the type of background he comes from, but he has some scary sociopathic ways about him. He has no empathy for anyone, and sometimes he can make downright awful comments to people. Saying their mothers should've flushed them down the toilet, calling his nieces & nephews (WHO ARE CHILDREN), little bastards etc. He can also go from 0-100 in a matter of seconds randomly. What he says can sometimes be unpredictable & you never know when things can go left. I know other people from two parent homes who have just as much issues. I say that to finally say all this, I've seen children in single parent homes turn out to be much better with less issues. Not just from regular people I know, but look at how many sucessful actors, actresses, singers, etc, who come from struggle & end up having amazing & succesful lives. I just feel like nowadays people always emphasize the fact that it's better when there's a two parent home, when that's not always the case. I'm not a parent, but it also seems like single mothers are easy targets to put the blame on, when a child turns out bad.

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Previous Entry
Writing these things has made me realize how different I sound these days. Back when all this started I’m not sure I even spoke English and I certainly didn’t speak like I do now but to be honest, I don’t remember. Trying to recall things to write has made me realize exactly how many little things I’ve forgotten over the years. The sights, the sounds, all those fade into the background of most events.
Even something as visceral as Archer’s basement still takes me a while to recall clearly. I wonder if it’s more than just my long life, we do age after all. I mentioned before that sunlight is not deadly to vampires like myself but very unpleasant, that and it makes us more normal. In the sun I won’t be as strong as I would be in the dark and by my assessment I age in the sun as well. Not any faster than a normal person but I do age, its why I don’t still look like that little boy stuck in Paris anymore.
I did spend quite some time in Paris before I left or rather, escaped. I’m not sure I ever would have left if not for the war. I didn’t have many friends there save for other… I’m not sure what to call them… entities? Whatever you want to cal it I had some friends in the more supernatural parts of the city. A vampire named Belle had become a sort of mother figure to me over the years spent there.
I met her by chance one night as I sated myself in an alley. I was ready to fight but she just laughed and flashed her own fangs at me, ridiculing me for being so careless. It was under her wing where I learned everything I know now about vampires. It’s where I realized not all vampires endure sunlight as well as I do, if anything that one trait is what’s most unique about me according to her. But thats not the story I want to tell on these pages tonight. I want to tell the story of lieutenant Marsh and the real beginnings of the organization that would become Chimera.
When war came to Paris that summer I was unprepared. I never expected the war to spiral out of hand so quickly or for it to force me out of my home. I was with Belle and a few more of her friends whose names escape me waiting out the worst of it and hoping things would blow over in the city soon. Obviously we were completely misguided, it was that sense of invulnerability again just the same as when I was a boy. The world was our playground and nothing could hurt us. It didn’t help that in some ways I really was invulnerable and it went straight to my head.
Only flashes of my memory from that day remain. I remember the nazi soldier kicking in the door and firing at Belle’s friends. I remember the screaming that abruptly ended in a single gunshot. I remember the trail of blood leading to her friends body where it lay staked to the ground in the sun. We heal fast, not instantly but much faster than a human. Put us in sunlight though, and we’re just as fragile as a normal person. It was the first time I’d seen someone with abilities like ours die and it made me feel mortal again for the first time in decades.
The rest of the day is a disjointed blur. Belle and I fled the city, I blank out on the specifics of it but we made it out with some difficulty. After that we hunkered down for the night in a rickety old shack. I remember wanting to push on through the day but Belle protested, she didn’t deal with the sun as well as I did. When night finally fell we fled to the coast and managed to catch a ship heading towards the United States.
The trip was unpleasant to say the least, neither of us made good stowaways. We weren’t living life in the lap of luxury before by any means but we lived comfortably. This was a far cry from what we were used to in Paris and the welcome we received was even worse. Apparently fleeing for your own survival is a crime, both of us were separated and sent to prison on our arrival to the states for stowing away on the ship.
That was the last time I ever saw Belle, I get letters from her every now and then but I haven’t seen her in person since. She does well for herself, works in D.C. as a sort of handler for the supernatural. Regrettably she does work with Chimera, says they have the best interests at heart for the supernatural but she doesn’t see what I see out here. She doesn’t know the part I played in its creation, what it really stood for in the beginning. Chimera tends to kill first these days rather than actually try to help or give the supernatural some kind of place in the world. I think thats why I haven’t been to visit her, I just don’t want to argue with a friend as old as her. Funnily enough I don’t think anyone knows she’s a vampire. I doubt they’d take that very well, she’d probably lose her position. They must have suspicions though because theres no way she’d be able to get letters to me without Baelen knowing about it. Every few months they keep showing up though and I always make sure to write her back.
Anyways I’m getting off topic, back to my story. I was in prison for months until an offer came my way, serve the rest of my sentence or enlist in the army and be a free man when I came back, if I came back. Of course I took the offer, I didn’t realize how suspicious that deal sounded at the time but it actually played out exactly as they said. I also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter either. It was hard to get my hands on any blood when I was almost constantly under watch and I could feel the effects it was having on me. I figured it would be best to get a change of scenery.
The next week I was off to training then not long after, we shipped out to the trenches and met the commander of the platoon I’d been assigned to. That’s the first time I met Lieutenant Johnson Marsh and what a man he was. That first day I was convinced I’d never see a smile ever again, the trenches were a horrible depressing place. But there Marsh was, laughing and smiling and just generally enjoying life with the rest of the platoon. He was either crazy or stupid, thats what my first thoughts about him were. I remember those clearly even today but I couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything he may have turned out to be one of the smartest men I ever knew.
The first few weeks were spent holding our position from the germans. It was brutal but I found I was a decent shot with the rifle I was given. Marsh on the other hand spent those weeks barking orders at us and keeping us in line. He never used a rifle like most of the soldiers used. Instead he kept a Beretta m9 with him at all times. That weapon was the only one I ever saw him use. I remember the name only because he was so found of explaining everything there was to know about the gun to me whenever I questioned him about it. You could immediately recognize the pistol as his by its strange grip. One side of it had a picture of an idyllic scene of a manor house in the middle of a sprawling field. The other had a painting of a woman, his wife I’d guess but he never actually told me if that was there case. He seemed to spend the nights staring with longing at each side of the artistic grip.
I’d never really had a family, even with Belle I’d always felt like I was a bit of an outsider. There was so much I didn’t know about how normal people lived. Even though I’d had friends in Paris we were always kind of hidden away in our own personal corner. There was this separation between us and normal life, even between the other supernaturals in the area.
Here I felt like I was part of something though. Sure I was still lost but so was everyone else, we could be lost together and Marsh would always set us straight in the end. There was something about the man, some piece of him that just understood what we were all going through. He expected a lot from us but he was never unreasonable and several times even argued with command on our behalf when ridiculous orders came our way. I actually wanted to serve with him. The rest of the platoon wasn’t bad but they’d all been given the same deal as me. They were all just there to get out of prison. I’m still not sure what Marsh’s story was, he always kept that to himself but any of us would’ve taken a bullet for that man.
Our first real assignment came maybe three months into my period of indentured service. Our platoon was tasked with rescuing a captured American scientist and capturing a German scientist. The scientists in question were Frank Smith and Stein Hoffman and no, the irony of those names is not lost on me, fits the two of them though. I’m sure doctor Frankenstein wishes he was successful as those two. But before those orders could be acted on we had to overtake a German trench surrounding the compound they were staying in.
That fight was bloody and we lost several good men in the chaos. At one point a trench gun was shoved into my arms and I launched myself into the German trench. I wouldn’t be surprised if ghost stories are still passed around of what I did that day. After I made my way over and into the German trench I lashed out with all I had. Moving with superhuman speed and lashing out with both the bayonet affixed to my gun and my fangs, I fell upon the Germans. They stood little chance as I tore into them and all by my lonesome I ensured we’d face no more resistance.
Marsh was the first over into the now silent trench, I’m glad it was him because I’m not sure anyone else would’ve understood like him. I was holding the German officer to the trench wall, fangs buried in his neck as I fed when I heard footsteps behind me. I dropped him and turned to see Marsh staring questioningly at me. I must’ve been a sight to see, blood dripping from my mouth and covering my bullet torn uniform. Marsh steadied himself for a moment and shouted back to the rest of the platoon,
“Boys hold up a second! Just get down and stay up there a minute won’tcha!”
All of a sudden he took a step forward and a well mannered grin took its usual place on his lips.
“Though You didn’t care for sauerkraut J.?”
The joke stunned me, I fully expected him to shoot me then and there, put me down like the abomination I must’ve looked like to him.
“Lieutenant I…”
But Marsh raised his hands to cut me off.
“Command’d probably want me to shoot’cha, hell maybe I aught’a but I don’t think it’d be right. You seem decent, little odd sure but you’ve got heart, I see it in the way you look out for the boys. Plus I always figured there was some’n off about you. The way you stay out’a the light always seem a little faster and stronger than anyone got the right to be just didn’t figure it’d be…. That.”
Marsh told me pointing to the punctures in the officers neck.
“Thank you lieutenant, Could we keep this between us though sir?”
“Drop the formalities J. Jesus! We’re all friends here.”
“I just don’t want the others to know, they may not be as understanding as you.”
“No can do, but you can tell em’ yourself. Alright men, get on down here!”
In all my years I’d never had to explain myself to anyone up until that point. I guess that day my number was up but I never knew just how understanding people, normal people could be. I’d always lived around the supernatural in Paris, didn’t interact much with the normal people I saw in the streets every day, I didn’t have to. I’d always assumed there was a reason for that but in the moment I realized there wasn’t, not really. I’d just avoided normal people because I feared what they’d think if it came out that I wasn’t like them.
Of course There were some of the men that objected to… what I was. Most of them took after Marsh though. They didn’t really care what I was, I’d proven to them I was a good person and thats all that mattered. I just wish they’d been right about me back then because the truth was I still hadn’t learned to care, not really. Even the ones who objected came around eventually and that night Marsh finally came clean to me about why exactly he was so accepting.
According to him he’d always assumed there was more out there, things beyond human that lived on the fringes of society. Even he always thought he sounded crazy. I was the proof he needed to convince himself he wasn’t. Marsh also told me what we were really doing with the scientists. Both Frank and Stein researched the supernatural, their projects were as secret as secret could be. Marsh’s interests and theories, as personal as he tried to keep them showed up in his file somewhere. The higher ups had handpicked him for this mission because of it. The official story was that Frank had been captured but in reality he defected to further his own research with a like minded individual. Our mission was really to force Frank back into the fold and take Stein along with him.
The more he talked the more I could tell his heart was fully committed to this mission and the final assault tomorrow. I’d never seen someone so… alive. In my extremely long life I don’t think Id ever felt that kind of conviction myself. So I promised him I’d have his back tomorrow no matter what.
Morning broke and with it our assault began. Intel on the German defenses was shoddy at best but we never expected what we’d actually run into. At least three times our number acted as guards so a distraction was in order to give us a window of entry. A few of the men would handle the distraction “however they saw fit” to quote Marsh. Then Marsh and I would make our way into the compound itself and the rest of the platoon would cover us.
For what its worth most of the plan went off without a hitch. A tremendous explosion signaled Marsh and I to press the advantage and rush the confused soldiers that lay in front of us. Some actually turned and ran from me, apparently word of my stunt in the trenches yesterday had spread quickly. The rest of the platoon followed behind us but then our luck ran out with the roar of an engine.
An honest to god panzer tank rolled out of a tunnel we hadn’t seen that ran under the compound and turned its barrel towards us. I almost didn’t hear the blast from how slow time seemed to move. But move it did as the explosion of the shell’s impact scattered bodies left and right. The shell impacted behind us but the sheer force of the blast threw Marsh and I to the ground, knocking us unconscious.
When I slowly came to my eyes couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A man dressed in red priestly robes with a matching red top hat was walking between the bodies. When he approached one that groaned out with agony he’d kneel down and whisper things I couldn’t hear to them, after that he’d snap his fingers. sometimes the person he was talking with would disappear other times they would fall silent and sometimes it didn’t appear that anything happened at all.
Just the sight of the man terrified me and I wasn’t sure why. It was an instinctual reaction, the second I lay eyes on him I froze up and ice cold fear crept its way up my spine. When people accuse me of being the devil this man is who I think of. Even today I’m not sure what it is he does or why. What I do know is that he never looks the same. I’ve seen him appear as male, female, even as an animal on a few occasions but I can always tell. The second I’m near him no matter what he looks like the same old feeling comes over me.
Once my vision had finally focused in on the man he seemed to notice without ever looking at me. I blinked and suddenly he was there, kneeling over me.
“Would you like to live.”
He rasped down at me with a voice that seemed to boom around me no matter how quiet it must’ve actually been. I felt like a child again, staring at Archer for the first time. I’d never really had to fear death before but here I was, sure I was about to meet my end right here. In all honestly I wasn’t injured all that bad, I probably could’ve survived with or without this man help. But something told me that if I said no he’d make sure I would die right here.
“Ye…y… yes”
I stuttered out, barley able to form the words through the pain that stabbed throughout my body.
“You will be my instrument for one night at a time of me choosing.”
The man replied. I stayed silent as I stared into his eyes, trying to determine if the sunglasses he wore were tinted or if his eyes really did burn with an infernal red light. The man cocked his head as if waiting for a response to his question. I’m not sure if question was the right word though, there wasn’t much of a choice for me.
Looking back there was always a choice, maybe I could’ve survived on my own merits, found another way. In the years to come I’d wish I just said no, even if it would’ve cost me my life. But thats not what happened. I nodded and the deal maker snapped his fingers. As soon as he had dark clouds flooded the sky and blocked out the sun, allowing my body to begin repairing itself. The man moved on to where Marsh’s body lay and probably made him the same deal as I felt my body healing. Despite that, my consciousness faded again as I strained to try and hear what the man would say to Marsh.
We never actually discussed the man at all. Not then and not in the years since. Maybe that was all an unspoken part of Marsh’s deal. Maybe both of us just wished that man was nothing more than a waking dream, a vivid hallucination. Whatever the case neither of us ever mentioned that man to each other.
The next time I woke up I was chained to a table next to Marsh. We had been captured and brought before the very scientists we were here to apprehend. There were guards around but they all seemed to be waiting for some kind of order. I was certainly surprised when that order came in perfect English, even more surprised when the order was to let us down so we could talk.
Frank and Stein ended up being quite reasonable people. The two let us stay in relative comfort in the compound as long as we agreed to stay and leave them to their work. That was all the convincing it took for me. I understand that the men I’d served with were all dead and that these two were in some way responsible. Maybe that should’ve bothered me more, today it certainly would’ve. Back then I didn’t think the same way, they accepted me for what I was but only briefly, only out of respect for Marsh. What did the lives of people I’d known for so short a time really matter? Writing this now just makes me realize how cold I was before, I didn’t care for anything beyond myself. I’d made no efforts to find Belle since we were separated and how long had I known her, 100 years, more? I may have pretended I cared but when push came to shove I simply tried to make sure I survived.
Marsh wasn’t as cold as me, in fact he almost immediately reached for where his pistol should’ve been when he was unchained. It took Frank, Stein, and myself weeks to convince him that helping would be the right decision. He didn’t like it at first but little by little I think the scientists grew on him. The guards I’d seen our first day here seemed to thin out the longer we stayed. Wether that was a gesture of trust or simply because they were needed for more important duties I don’t know but it certainly eased Marsh’s mind.
I merely observed the scientists most of the time until Stein asked me for a sample of my blood. It didn’t surprise me that he knew what I was but for obvious reasons I was hesitant to give it to him, especially considering what I’d seen so called doctors do with vampire blood. Eventually he wore me down and I gave let him take a sample just to shut him up. After that I became more involved in their research though not by choice. They had me showcasing my abilities and tested the effects of sunlight on my blood. On a few rare occasions Stein even injected it into other prisoners that were brought in, something I put a stop to very quickly. T
hat sample of blood is why Frank and Stein are still around today. Somehow they managed to isolate whatever part of my DNA allows me to age so much slower than a normal person. They took that and spliced it into their own DNA against my recommendations. The crazy thing was it actually worked. Sure they had a newfound appreciation for rare steaks but beyond that I didn’t notice any of the effects that combining vampire DNA with your own would usually have.
As Marsh and I assisted the scientist’s research however we could we both came to the realization that they needed each other to function. Stein lacked a moral compass and was prone to suggest unethical or risky procedures, sometimes going so far as to carry them out without informing Frank. Frank on the other hand preferred caution in everything he did and sometimes I noticed him personally taking and shredding requests Stein had written for test subjects, hazardous materials, or samples from supernatural entities. The two kept a very delicate dance of checks and balances. Stein ever the daring mad scientist and Frank always playing the role of overly cautious genius.
Marsh and Frank got along extremely well near the end. The two would be up at all hours of the night as Frank explained what kind of things really existed in the world. Marsh always shared these ideas of a world where the supernatural and the normal could live together and I think Frank shared that vision. It wasn’t possible, still isn’t but treating the supernatural as something other than monsters couldn’t possibly be a bad thing. I think thats where the idea of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs really came from, those talks Marsh had with anyone who would listen.
Overtime one of our favorite conversations was what we would do when the war was over and we could leave this compound. Stein wasn’t sure he would, if his research wasn’t going to a man who’d simply use it to cause more conflict he wouldn’t mind staying. Frank wanted to return home, if that was even possible and he asked if Stein would join him. Those two had also become close friends through our months in the lab. That checks and balances relationship they had made them basically inseparable. Marsh’s answer surprised me though, he said he wanted to get out of the military and start a program, something to help the supernatural live closer to normal lives. At least keep tabs on them so that the quality of their lives might improve. I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he’d throw his career away just to chase this pipe dream of his. I didn’t even know Marsh was concerned with that kind of thing. I didn’t have an answer of my own so I said I’d join Marsh and help with this program idea of his. Actually, even Frank and Stein seemed to agree with Marsh’s way of thinking. Little did we know the war would end less than a month after our talk and we’d all get the chance to actually put Marsh’s little idea to the test.
Once the Americans had come and discovered the compound pretty much abandoned aside from us we were all taken prisoner and shipped back to America. We were all interrogated and they either heard what they wanted to hear, or decided anyone we’d talk to about our experiences would assume we were just crazy. We were released back into society under constant surveillance. They even gave us a sizable home in D.C., it was certainly bugged to its core but thats exactly what we wanted.
Through the next year we used Frank and Steins knowledge and my supernatural nature to track down entities all over the country. We made sure that everything was discussed and planned out in the house. That way however was listening knew exactly what we were doing and how successful it was. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though, some entities would rather we didn’t know about them. Others were naturally aggressive but some we were actually able to help.
Our escapades as a group of four didn’t last much past the first year. Mostly because our master plan of using the bugs worked perfectly. Ol’ uncle Sam had been listening in and wanted his chance at calling the shots but it meant we became a legitimate organization, the BSA. Technically the acronym was already taken but no one ever complained and Marsh never came up with anything better.
We spent 4 years doing everything we could to improve the lives of supernatural beings everywhere. Not every one of our endeavors was a success but we did some good in the world. One such project was blood banks for vampires. While the blood that gets donated is used for transfusions and the like some was put into cold storage for the BSA. That got distributed to vampires who had come to an agreement with us to stop hunting humans for blood. Some vampires were even selected for jobs at these blood banks, under the supervision of BSA agents of course.
The more human supernaturals like werewolves, vampires, and succubi even used us to find jobs in the world. We made in roads for the supernatural in daily life because of it. Werewolves would use their strength for government construction. Vampire’s long lives made them excellent archivists or history teachers because they actually been there for those events. A succubus’s ability to understand and control someones emotions and reactions made them excellent therapists and conflict deescalation specialists. Those are just some of the fields we managed to get the supernatural involved in. While they usually had to hide their natural they were wildly successful.
Everything went well until that fourth year when I first met Baelen. He was headstrong from the beginning, the powers that be were grooming him for leadership. He was everything they wanted, he followed orders and didn’t question things to much. In short, he was the perfect solution to the inconvenience the four of us caused running the organization as we saw fit. But baleen had a mean streak, he didn’t want to protect the supernatural so much as he wanted to put them in their place. Unfortunately a lot of the research we provided had scared pretty much everyone above us who had never even entertained the idea of the supernatural until now. That meant Baelen’s ideas of monitoring and segregating the supernatural population were popular. So popular that suggesting culling their numbers to keep them in check and under the thumb of the BSA was an idea they actually entertained. That sentiment caught on and our orders became more and more militant.
Every time we disregarded them to do things the way we had envisioned the consequence grew steeper. Eventually Frank, Stein, Marsh, and I just couldn’t stand to see what our BSA had become so we left. We couldn’t do anything else to stop what was coming from the inside, no point in going down with the ship.
After that Baelen quickly ended up heading the whole operation. He still took orders directly from government officials and when the BSA became part of homeland security it became Chimera division. Why they chose such a stupid name I’ll never know but the organization was a shadow of its former self. Before we looked out for the supernatural, tried to help. Under Baelen Chimera just exists to monitor the supernatural and “correct” any issues uncle Sam decides to have with them. They’re glorified enforcers that don’t give a damn how the supernatural actually have it. That’s not to say some good people don’t work for them, people like Belle and even Marsh’s own daughter as far as I’m aware.
It sickens me to think I was a part of it though, for all the good we did maybe it would’ve been better if Johnson Marsh’s pipe dream would’ve stayed just that. I can do a lot but I can’t change the past so I guess we’ll never know. A while ago I heard that something had happened in a little nowhere town out in New Mexico. Pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth. The only reason I even heard about it was through Belle’s letters. Apparently Chimera had to do some huge cover up job and decided it was better if the town just never existed. Maybe I should go myself and see if I can’t piece what happened together. Could be that someone else out there has it in for Chimera and is a whole lot more direct about it than me. I’m just imaging it was some runaway experiment Frank and Stein got up to. I wonder where those two ended up, I’ll have to check up on them sometime. This journal writing is digging up a lot of memories for me but thats probably a good thing. Write them down before I forget again. I think that’ll be all for today then, why do I keep addressing these like someone’s reading them? Not much point to that is there?

Looking primarily for Paypal EU offers. If you're not from EU I will only sell if you cover the paypal fees and pay in EUR instead of your native currency. I do not have a specific price for any games atm, I'm open to offers. Aside from games listed in the title I'm not very interested in offers for new games atm, even wishlisted ones
If it has "may keep" I have minor interest in the game and will likely decline any offers for it. I'd prefer to trade away games I have no interest in or own already. If I redeem it i'll remove it from the list.
DO NOT send me a chat invite before having agreed on a trade in the comments. I do not check chat often and it's a rule to not send a chat invite before commenting anyway.
If this post is more than 24-48 hours old it might not be up to date and you should check the latest trading post or my full list of tradables to see if the game(s) you want are still there.
Full wishlist here: https://barter.vg80b7/w/
My full list of tradables: https://barter.vg80b7/t/
Asterisk means region lock, ask if interested, the region lock varies depending on the game
NEW:

• Axiom Verge
  
• 9 Years of Shadows
  
• Cookie Cutter
  
• Death's Gambit: Afterlife
  
• Yakuza: Like a Dragon
  
• Steelrising (may keep)
  
• Amanda the Adventurer
  
• Bravery and Greed
  
• King Of The Castle
  
• Mediterranea Inferno
  
• Devil Spire
  
• Going Under
  
• Hellslave
  

SOME NEW STUFF FROM OLD BUNDLES NOT SURE WHAT I WANT TO KEEP YET:

• From The Depths
  
• My Little Universe
  
• Necesse
  
  • _ + TerraTech_
  • _ + TerraTech: R&D Labs_
  • _ + TerraTech Year One Payload_
• Trailmakers Deluxe Edition
  
• Above Snakes
  
• The Universim
  
• Batman: Arkham Asylum GOTY Edition
  
• Batman: Arkham City GOTY
  
• Mad Max
  
• Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor Game of the Year Edition
  
• Mortal Kombat XL
  
• Batman: Arkham Knight Premium Edition
  
• Batman: Arkham Origins
  
• Injustice 2 Legendary Edition
  
• Middle-earth: Shadow of War Definitive Edition
  
• Mortal Kombat 11
  
• Mortal Kombat 11 Ultimate Add-On Bundle
  
• Back 4 Blood
  
• Gotham Knights
  
• Resident Evil
  
• Resident Evil Revelations
  
• Resident Evil Revelations 2
  
• Resident Evil 0
  
• Resident Evil 4 (2005)
  
• Resident Evil 5 Gold Edition
  
• Resident Evil 6
  
• Resident Evil Revelations 2 / Biohazard Revelations 2 Deluxe Edition
  
• Resident Evil 3
  
• Resident Evil 7 Biohazard
  

///////////////////

• Scheming Through The Zombie Apocalypse: The Beginning
  
• FORCED
  
• Red Faction
  
• Red Faction II
  
• Victoria 3
  
• Coromon
  
• Terraformers
  
• POSTAL: Brain Damaged - Connoisseur Edition
  
• Prodeus
  
• Quake II
  
• Jurassic Park Classic Games Collection
  
• Saints Row
  
• Warhammer Age of Sigmar: Realms of Ruin Ultimate Edition
  
• Destroyer: The U-Boat Hunter
  
• Roarr! Jurassic Edition
  
• Slave Zero
  
• RPG Maker XP
  
• Mutazione
  
• Snowtopia
  
• Maneater
  
• NARUTO TO BORUTO: SHINOBI STRIKER
  
• Expeditions: Rome
  
• From Space
  
• The Deed
  
• Fae Tactics
  
• TEKKEN 7
  
• Autonauts vs Piratebots
  
• Meeple Station
  
• Golf Gang
  
• Eternal Threads
  
• The Invisible Hand
  
• Morbid: The Seven Acolytes
  
• Who Pressed Mute on Uncle Marcus?
  
• The Inner World
  
• Guilty Gear X2 #Reload
  
• Mount & Blade: Warband
  
• Hamilton's Great Adventure
  
• Monaco
  
• X-Morph: Defense
  
• Soulblight
  
• Pathfinder: Kingmaker*
  
• Strange Brigade
  
• Worms Rumble
  
• Ghostrunner (Good offers only)
  
• Lost Planet 3 - Complete Pack
  
• Aliens vs. Predator Collection
  
• SYMMETRY
  
• X-Morph: Defense Complete Pack
  
• NASCAR Heat 5 - Ultimate Pass
  
• Dagon - The Eldritch Box DLC
  
• Monsters' Den Chronicles
  
• Jetboard Joust
  
• Detached: Non-VR Edition
  
• Orbital Racer
  
• MirrorMoon EP
  
• Go Home Dinosaurs!
  
• Doughlings: Arcade
  
• Telefrag VR
  
• NecroWorm
  
• Agent in Depth
  
• Doughlings: Invasion
  
• Frick, Inc.
  
• Planet TD
  
• Soul Searching
  
• Soulflow
  
• Izmir: An Independence Simulator
  
• Sid Meier's Civilization VI
  

GOG keys

• Liberated
  
• Wanderlust Travel Stories
  

MAY KEEP (significantly less likely to accept offer for unless I desperately want the game you're offering)

• Oddworld: Abe's Exoddus
  
• Oddworld: Abe's Oddysee
  
• Oddworld: Munch's Oddysee
  
• Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath HD
  
• Shotgun King: The Final Checkmate
  
• Temtem
  
• SuchArt!
  
• Super Bunny Man
  
• Lemon Cake
  
• Cat Cafe Manager
  
• Bionic Commando Rearmed
  
• XCOM 2
  
• Sunset Overdrive
  
• No More Heroes
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3 - Cold as Eyes Expansion
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3 - Tipping the Scales DLC
  
• Grow: Song of the Evertree
  
• Saints Row 2
  

https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/p7k848/superteletubbies64s_igs_rep_page/

Looking primarily for Paypal EU offers. If you're not from EU I will only sell if you cover the paypal fees and pay in EUR instead of your native currency. I do not have a specific price for any games atm, I'm open to offers. Aside from games listed in the title I'm not very interested in offers for new games atm, even wishlisted ones
If it has "may keep" I have minor interest in the game and will likely decline any offers for it. I'd prefer to trade away games I have no interest in or own already. If I redeem it i'll remove it from the list.
DO NOT send me a chat invite before having agreed on a trade in the comments. I do not check chat often and it's a rule to not send a chat invite before commenting anyway.
If this post is more than 24-48 hours old it might not be up to date and you should check the latest trading post or my full list of tradables to see if the game(s) you want are still there.
Full wishlist here: https://barter.vg80b7/w/
My full list of tradables: https://barter.vg80b7/t/
Asterisk means region lock, ask if interested, the region lock varies depending on the game
NEW:

• Axiom Verge
  
• 9 Years of Shadows
  
• Cookie Cutter
  
• Death's Gambit: Afterlife
  
• Yakuza: Like a Dragon
  
• Steelrising (may keep)
  
• Amanda the Adventurer
  
• Bravery and Greed
  
• King Of The Castle
  
• Mediterranea Inferno
  
• Devil Spire
  
• Going Under
  
• Hellslave
  

SOME NEW STUFF FROM OLD BUNDLES NOT SURE WHAT I WANT TO KEEP YET:

• From The Depths
  
• My Little Universe
  
• Necesse
  
  • _ + TerraTech_
  • _ + TerraTech: R&D Labs_
  • _ + TerraTech Year One Payload_
• Trailmakers Deluxe Edition
  
• Above Snakes
  
• The Universim
  
• Batman: Arkham Asylum GOTY Edition
  
• Batman: Arkham City GOTY
  
• Mad Max
  
• Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor Game of the Year Edition
  
• Mortal Kombat XL
  
• Batman: Arkham Knight Premium Edition
  
• Batman: Arkham Origins
  
• Injustice 2 Legendary Edition
  
• Middle-earth: Shadow of War Definitive Edition
  
• Mortal Kombat 11
  
• Mortal Kombat 11 Ultimate Add-On Bundle
  
• Back 4 Blood
  
• Gotham Knights
  
• Resident Evil
  
• Resident Evil Revelations
  
• Resident Evil Revelations 2
  
• Resident Evil 0
  
• Resident Evil 4 (2005)
  
• Resident Evil 5 Gold Edition
  
• Resident Evil 6
  
• Resident Evil Revelations 2 / Biohazard Revelations 2 Deluxe Edition
  
• Resident Evil 3
  
• Resident Evil 7 Biohazard
  

///////////////////

• Scheming Through The Zombie Apocalypse: The Beginning
  
• FORCED
  
• Red Faction
  
• Red Faction II
  
• Victoria 3
  
• Coromon
  
• Terraformers
  
• POSTAL: Brain Damaged - Connoisseur Edition
  
• Prodeus
  
• Quake II
  
• Jurassic Park Classic Games Collection
  
• Saints Row
  
• Warhammer Age of Sigmar: Realms of Ruin Ultimate Edition
  
• Destroyer: The U-Boat Hunter
  
• Roarr! Jurassic Edition
  
• Slave Zero
  
• RPG Maker XP
  
• Mutazione
  
• Snowtopia
  
• Maneater
  
• NARUTO TO BORUTO: SHINOBI STRIKER
  
• Expeditions: Rome
  
• From Space
  
• The Deed
  
• Fae Tactics
  
• TEKKEN 7
  
• Autonauts vs Piratebots
  
• Meeple Station
  
• Golf Gang
  
• Eternal Threads
  
• The Invisible Hand
  
• Morbid: The Seven Acolytes
  
• Who Pressed Mute on Uncle Marcus?
  
• The Inner World
  
• Guilty Gear X2 #Reload
  
• Mount & Blade: Warband
  
• Hamilton's Great Adventure
  
• Monaco
  
• X-Morph: Defense
  
• Soulblight
  
• Pathfinder: Kingmaker*
  
• Strange Brigade
  
• Worms Rumble
  
• Ghostrunner (Good offers only)
  
• Lost Planet 3 - Complete Pack
  
• Aliens vs. Predator Collection
  
• SYMMETRY
  
• X-Morph: Defense Complete Pack
  
• NASCAR Heat 5 - Ultimate Pass
  
• Dagon - The Eldritch Box DLC
  
• Monsters' Den Chronicles
  
• Jetboard Joust
  
• Detached: Non-VR Edition
  
• Orbital Racer
  
• MirrorMoon EP
  
• Go Home Dinosaurs!
  
• Doughlings: Arcade
  
• Telefrag VR
  
• NecroWorm
  
• Agent in Depth
  
• Doughlings: Invasion
  
• Frick, Inc.
  
• Planet TD
  
• Soul Searching
  
• Soulflow
  
• Izmir: An Independence Simulator
  
• Sid Meier's Civilization VI
  

GOG keys

• Liberated
  
• Wanderlust Travel Stories
  

MAY KEEP (significantly less likely to accept offer for unless I desperately want the game you're offering)

• Oddworld: Abe's Exoddus
  
• Oddworld: Abe's Oddysee
  
• Oddworld: Munch's Oddysee
  
• Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath HD
  
• Shotgun King: The Final Checkmate
  
• Temtem
  
• SuchArt!
  
• Super Bunny Man
  
• Lemon Cake
  
• Cat Cafe Manager
  
• Bionic Commando Rearmed
  
• XCOM 2
  
• Sunset Overdrive
  
• No More Heroes
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3 - Cold as Eyes Expansion
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3 - Tipping the Scales DLC
  
• Grow: Song of the Evertree
  
• Saints Row 2
  

https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/p7k848/superteletubbies64s_igs_rep_page/

Looking primarily for Paypal EU offers. If you're not from EU I will only sell if you cover the paypal fees and pay in EUR instead of your native currency. I do not have a specific price for any games atm, I'm open to offers. Aside from games listed in the title I'm not very interested in offers for new games atm, even wishlisted ones
If it has "may keep" I have minor interest in the game and will likely decline any offers for it. I'd prefer to trade away games I have no interest in or own already. If I redeem it i'll remove it from the list.
DO NOT send me a chat invite before having agreed on a trade in the comments. I do not check chat often and it's a rule to not send a chat invite before commenting anyway.
If this post is more than 24-48 hours old it might not be up to date and you should check the latest trading post or my full list of tradables to see if the game(s) you want are still there.
Full wishlist here: https://barter.vg80b7/w/
My full list of tradables: https://barter.vg80b7/t/
Asterisk means region lock, ask if interested, the region lock varies depending on the game
NEW:

• Axiom Verge
  
• 9 Years of Shadows
  
• Cookie Cutter
  
• Death's Gambit: Afterlife
  
• Yakuza: Like a Dragon
  
• Steelrising (may keep)
  
• Amanda the Adventurer
  
• Bravery and Greed
  
• King Of The Castle
  
• Mediterranea Inferno
  
• Devil Spire
  
• Going Under
  
• Hellslave
  

SOME NEW STUFF FROM OLD BUNDLES NOT SURE WHAT I WANT TO KEEP YET:

• From The Depths
  
• My Little Universe
  
• Necesse
  
  • _ + TerraTech_
  • _ + TerraTech: R&D Labs_
  • _ + TerraTech Year One Payload_
• Trailmakers Deluxe Edition
  
• Above Snakes
  
• The Universim
  
• Batman: Arkham Asylum GOTY Edition
  
• Batman: Arkham City GOTY
  
• Mad Max
  
• Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor Game of the Year Edition
  
• Mortal Kombat XL
  
• Batman: Arkham Knight Premium Edition
  
• Batman: Arkham Origins
  
• Injustice 2 Legendary Edition
  
• Middle-earth: Shadow of War Definitive Edition
  
• Mortal Kombat 11
  
• Mortal Kombat 11 Ultimate Add-On Bundle
  
• Back 4 Blood
  
• Gotham Knights
  
• Resident Evil
  
• Resident Evil Revelations
  
• Resident Evil Revelations 2
  
• Resident Evil 0
  
• Resident Evil 4 (2005)
  
• Resident Evil 5 Gold Edition
  
• Resident Evil 6
  
• Resident Evil Revelations 2 / Biohazard Revelations 2 Deluxe Edition
  
• Resident Evil 3
  
• Resident Evil 7 Biohazard
  

///////////////////

• Scheming Through The Zombie Apocalypse: The Beginning
  
• FORCED
  
• Red Faction
  
• Red Faction II
  
• Victoria 3
  
• Coromon
  
• Terraformers
  
• POSTAL: Brain Damaged - Connoisseur Edition
  
• Prodeus
  
• Quake II
  
• Jurassic Park Classic Games Collection
  
• Saints Row
  
• Warhammer Age of Sigmar: Realms of Ruin Ultimate Edition
  
• Destroyer: The U-Boat Hunter
  
• Roarr! Jurassic Edition
  
• Slave Zero
  
• RPG Maker XP
  
• Mutazione
  
• Snowtopia
  
• Maneater
  
• NARUTO TO BORUTO: SHINOBI STRIKER
  
• Expeditions: Rome
  
• From Space
  
• The Deed
  
• Fae Tactics
  
• TEKKEN 7
  
• Autonauts vs Piratebots
  
• Meeple Station
  
• Golf Gang
  
• Eternal Threads
  
• The Invisible Hand
  
• Morbid: The Seven Acolytes
  
• Who Pressed Mute on Uncle Marcus?
  
• The Inner World
  
• Guilty Gear X2 #Reload
  
• Mount & Blade: Warband
  
• Hamilton's Great Adventure
  
• Monaco
  
• X-Morph: Defense
  
• Soulblight
  
• Pathfinder: Kingmaker*
  
• Strange Brigade
  
• Worms Rumble
  
• Ghostrunner (Good offers only)
  
• Lost Planet 3 - Complete Pack
  
• Aliens vs. Predator Collection
  
• SYMMETRY
  
• X-Morph: Defense Complete Pack
  
• NASCAR Heat 5 - Ultimate Pass
  
• Dagon - The Eldritch Box DLC
  
• Monsters' Den Chronicles
  
• Jetboard Joust
  
• Detached: Non-VR Edition
  
• Orbital Racer
  
• MirrorMoon EP
  
• Go Home Dinosaurs!
  
• Doughlings: Arcade
  
• Telefrag VR
  
• NecroWorm
  
• Agent in Depth
  
• Doughlings: Invasion
  
• Frick, Inc.
  
• Planet TD
  
• Soul Searching
  
• Soulflow
  
• Izmir: An Independence Simulator
  
• Sid Meier's Civilization VI
  

GOG keys

• Liberated
  
• Wanderlust Travel Stories
  

MAY KEEP (significantly less likely to accept offer for unless I desperately want the game you're offering)

• Oddworld: Abe's Exoddus
  
• Oddworld: Abe's Oddysee
  
• Oddworld: Munch's Oddysee
  
• Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath HD
  
• Shotgun King: The Final Checkmate
  
• Temtem
  
• SuchArt!
  
• Super Bunny Man
  
• Lemon Cake
  
• Cat Cafe Manager
  
• Bionic Commando Rearmed
  
• XCOM 2
  
• Sunset Overdrive
  
• No More Heroes
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3 - Cold as Eyes Expansion
  
• Orcs Must Die! 3 - Tipping the Scales DLC
  
• Grow: Song of the Evertree
  
• Saints Row 2
  

https://www.reddit.com/IGSRep/comments/p7k848/superteletubbies64s_igs_rep_page/

I'm the same guy that posted that the Independent Order of Odd Fellows cemetery by Acker park was in disrepair and tried finding resources to help turn it around. Here's the link if anyone is interested. I'm still trying.
While walking through the cemetery I came across a gravestone marked "G.M. Robbins - The "End of the Trail" for "Yellowstone Pete" after 25,000 miles by mule train, may he rest in peace" and it got me interested in finding out more about the person. It turns out that Yellowstone Pete holds a place in Americana culture, and really did travel by mule train. There are several pictures linked here that have him, his wife, and mules. I'd love to hear more about him if anyone has more details.
Imgur album of photos I collected. The one that has "OH HOW WE HATE TO WORK" is a postcard that I ordered from Etsy while researching Yellowstone Pete.
There's even a poem about his only daughter.
Yellowstone Pete's Only Daughter was originally published in the book “Rhymes from a Round-up Camp, 1903, and written by Wallace David Coburn in 1894. The book of poetry has been published in 21 different editions. Coburn wrote the preface of the book in Malta, Montana.
Yes, this is the Milk River Valley,
And that's the old ranch that you see,
Where Yellowstone Pete lost his daughter,
The pride of the 7 U. P.
Was she pretty?-Well, stranger, your knowledge
Of these parts is shore incomplete,
When you ask such a comical question
'Bout the daughter of Yellowstone Pete.
Why, man! If the heavens were bluer,
And pansies were deeper in hue ,
They couldn't "size up" with her peepers,
Which shone like the spring poet's dew.
Her teeth were like snowdrops made whiter,
Her hair like the sealskin she wore,
Only softer and silkier and browner,
And she was true blue to the core.
Was old Yellowstone Pete's only daughter,
Whose voice was the envy of birds,
As she warbled at night to the long-horns,
Or when pointing her father's trail herds.
She was happy and good and as loving
As an angel could possibly be,
With always a smile and a greeting,
For tough old cow-punchers like me.
But what I was startin' to narrate,
Before you cut into the game,
Was a love affair she tangled up in,
And the tragical end of the same.
You see, she was borned in this country,
Her mother, a woman of gold,
Kissed her baby and lined out for Heaven,
When Beauty was seven days old.
The boys, you see, nicknamed her "Beauty,"
And each one, he fought for his turn
At feedin' her out of the bottle,
But dress her -- we never could learn.
So Pete he sent off for a nurse girl
And a teacher (not stunning for looks),
To give her the care of a woman,
And learn her the knowledge of books.
Thus Beauty grew up at the home ranch,
And learned how to shore ride and shoot,
Also play and sing on the pianer,
And to tie down a wild steer to boot.
And charming-- why, partner, the sunbeams
They scrapped for the sweets of her face,
And the alkali dust and the zephyrs
They jockeyed to get second place.
So was it a wonder young Dawson,
The son of a neighbor of Pete,
Lost his heart to this rose of the prairie,
And his love for her couldn't be beat?
“Buck"-- that was the handle he went by,
Had pre-empted some learnin' at school,
Was a handsome and big, manly feller,
And in a gun-fight was shore cool.
And there wasn't no man round the country,
Could ride with him down the Red Lane,
He could rope, fork, and ride with clean saddle
Any outlaw that ever wore mane.
They'd been youngsters and brought up together,
And Dawson was shorely dead game,
His father a wealthy old-timer,
All burdened with early-day fame.
Yes, Beauty loved "Buck," that was certain,
But a gal's ways are never foreseen,
And you can't tell what's liable to happen
Be-tween the betwixt and between.
So when a young feller from college
Comes a-romancin' like out this way,
Well, things looked a little promiscuous,
And there was the devil to pay.
Of course, he was welcomed by Beauty,
As the flowers are welcomed in May;
His college pin pleased her, I reckon,
And he had a girl-catchin' way.
But wait till I roll me a smoke, pard,
To filter my bad feelin's down,
Makes me wanter shore squander some powder
When I ponder on that sneakin' houn'.
Well, we was all out on the round-up,
When this college masher, you see,
Ran off with old Yellowstone's daughter,
The pride of the 7 U. P.
Now, old Pete he shore worshipped his daughter,
Loved her better than money or life,
For she was the pride of his old age--
The gift of his beautiful wife.
So he and young Dawson together,
With hearts like the lead in their guns,
Hit the trail of this college-bred villain,
And secured him before many suns.
The gal they found up in Butte City­-
He'd deserted her up there, you know;
But Dawson caught him near the border,
Where numerous cottonwoods grow.
And there, in the depths of the forest,
With the beasts and the birds lookin' on,
They fought to the death with their bowies,
Till the Eastern-bred feller was gone.
And Beauty-- she married "Buck" after,
But never seemed happy or gay,
Like the Beauty we'd worshipped from childhood,­-
She just drooped, shrunk, and withered away.
Yes, she paled like the flowers in summer,
And died with the leaves in the fall ;
And we buried her close to her mother,
While the sunshine went out of us all.
Poor old Pete, his hair white as the snowdrift,
And eyes that stare vacant and old,
Sits and sobs at the foot of two gravestones,
All alone, whether hot days or cold.
All alone? No, for Buck often joins him,
Grim and stern, with his face like a stone;
Never smiling nowdays like he used to,
When he tries he winds up with a moan.
No, the sun don't shine quite as it used to,
And the wind has a lonesomer sound,
As it sings soft and mournful in summer,
And howls when old winter comes round.
Here are the links to original photos:
https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/yellowstone-pete-passes-through-yellowstone-pete-news-photo/161995779
https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/rppc-goldie-marion-robbins-aka-1904877006
https://www.phillipscountynews.com/story/2016/09/14/news/yellowstone-petes-only-daughte4302.html
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/52400720/goldie-marion-robbins/photo

Hi! I found this group years ago, and obsessively read new posts every day for a couple of years. Decided on my own to go NC via ghosting, got ambushed at my apartment, and officially stipulated the terms of NC to my uBPDmom and my dad. It's been a few years. A couple of deaths happened, but I maintained NC. I have no intention of making the NC permanent, but I also have no desire to speak to them. I needed this group for a few years, then one day I didn't. I had to read posts multiple times a day, then I'd check in once a month. I used to desperately search for scraps of information on BPD so I could understand, then I was looking for others I could help and support. Then I realized a year had passed and I hadn't been to /raisedbyborderlines. I was happy you were here for me in case something upsetting happened. And even happier that I didn't need to lean on the support any more. My previous account was saved to my phone, and I have a new phone now. This is a new account for the recent BPD drama that tried to rattle me. (I'm sorry, Mods, I do not remember my old account name...)
Cat tax: https://gamerant.com/baldurs-gate-3-cutest-cats-bg3/
Backstory:
uBPDmom I am NC with occasionally breaks NC with sparse text messages. Usually during holidays and my birthday. Sometimes it's manic "why won't you talk to me please just tell me what i did wrong". Guilt and pity aside... I ignore these. It's been over 5 years.
When my grandpa died I was NC with my parents. One day I got a bunch of mystery texts that I ignored. (Can't remember specifics. They probably said, "call me") Then I had missed calls from uBPDmom. I again ignored because of NC. Then grandma called and said, "it's serious. You should get here." and I flew across the country to see grandpa before he died. I didn't talk to my parents while I was there, but I did speak to my older sister. My dad caught me off guard and hugged me, but the next time I saw him I was expecting it and said no. I managed to stay away at a hotel room (which I'm grateful for because I needed to be alone) and when I was around people I focused on spending quality time with grandma.
Two years after that, when my grandma died, I got cryptic text messages. They said "call your grandma" and my phone had missed calls from uBPDmom and missed calls from a blocked number. uBPDmom actually called my husband (Huge deal. They don't like my husband) and said to him, "have [my name] call her grandma." She refused to specify further, even though he asked. Grandma played it cool when I reached out via text. She said she was recovering from pneumonia in the hospital. She's fine. It's not my job to worry. She lived a full life with no regrets. She has plans with friends. I believed her. A few days later a distant cousin messages me on Facebook telling me she's been trying to get a hold of me about grandma but my family members blocked her attempts to reach me. Did I know anything about what's been happening with grandma? I texted my older sister and asked what was going on. She texted back, "Grandma died this morning." But grandma didn't die suddenly. She was hooked up to oxygen and decided she didn't want to go back home. She chose to end her life in a legal and humane way at the care of hospital staff. My dad and uncle flew from out of state to help her settle her affairs. (They might have been there for weeks, plural. Not sure. I wasn't there)
They knew what her decision was for over a week, and never told me. I don't begrudge my grandma her choice. I'm actually impressed. Grandma clearly didn't want me to worry, and she got to go out on her own terms. What a legend. I'm glad she's at peace. I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at my parents and my older sibling. I thought, "Sure they're terrible, but if something important like death happens, they'll tell me. Or make sure I know." I was so stupid... They knew for a week and aside from uBPDmom's cryptic messages, no one told me. If you're going to break the NC rules, why not tell me the actual news? My cousin only reached out because she thought it was suspicious my family would go quiet when she asked about me. When she asked how I was taking the news, they changed the subject. Their caginess made her mad, so she asked for my phone number so she could talk to me herself. My parents and sister refused to give her my number. (I am not NC with my sister, btw) Cousin contacted me a different way, but lived in a different time zone. I didn't see it in time to say a final goodbye to grandma. One where I knew we were saying goodbye.
Nowstory:
That's the back story. Here's what brought me back to /raisedbyborderlines after a few years of not needing to post in this support group. Yesterday, I received cryptic text messages from uBPDmom. (Sensing a pattern from my backstory?) A few minutes later I had a missed call. She left a voicemail that simply said I needed to call her. I ignored this too. My husband tells me that he missed a call from uBPDmom. Uh oh. They hate him.
Husband and I talked. Someone else could be dead or dying. Someone could be getting married. Either way, what did I want to do? I told him my decision, and at my request he texted uBPDmom requesting specifics for the phone call. She texted back that she wanted me to call her. He asked what it was regarding. She said, "family news." He texted back that I wasn't up for a phone call but he would pass along a message. She texted back, "tell her I tried."
... and that's where I'm at.

So... I didn't like the video about the boiled one. Ok to be clear I liked it very much both the video and the original boiled one videos until they mentioned watanabe bird. I mean My biggest problem with this isn't that they're making a horror series based in a real life war criminal, my problem is that at some point the excuse for watanabe bird to even be there is "He did awful things to people and wants to continue to do so after death". I mean if we go but that watanabe bird and his actions don't really have any relevance, you could change his name for any evil person's name. The boiled one could be Jeffrey Dahmer or Saddam Hussein or my uncle.

Welcome to Reading The Big Book of Cyberpunk!
Each week we (u/FarragutCircle and u/fanny_bertram) will be reading 5-ish stories from Jared Shurin’s The Big Book of Cyberpunk, which includes a curated selection of cyberpunk stories written from 1950 to 2022! We’ll include synopses of the stories along with links to any legally available online versions we can find. Feel free to read along with us or just stop by and hear our thoughts about some cyberpunk stories to decide if any of them sound interesting to you.
Every once in a while, we reach out to people who have more insight, due to being fans of the author or have some additional context for the story. (Or we just tricked them into it.) So please welcome u/RuinEleint who will be sharing their thoughts on "The Yuletide Cyberpunk Yarn, or Christmas_Eve-117.DIR" by Victor Pelevin!
“Deep Eddy” by Bruce Sterling (published 1993; also available in his collection Ascendancies: The Best of Bruce Sterling)
Deep Eddy is acting as a data courier to the Cultural Critic in Düsseldorf, right as the city goes through a Wende (a sort of anarchist “Purge”).

• Farragut’s thoughts: We’ve read Sterling before in Science Fiction. Eddy is a misguided libertarian creep who won’t stop hitting on his German bodyguard and is too dumb to understand the philosophical points that the Cultural Critic is making (for that matter, I’m too dumb to understand, too). He survives his time in Germany, but has learned nothing of value for his punk attitude. What’s the point of rebelling if you don’t understand why? The naivete and creepiness were a little too much for me.
  
• fanny’s thoughts: This did not work for me. Eddy is creepy and annoying. He keeps hitting on the bodyguard and she makes it VERY clear she is only there in a professional context. Eddy also seems to generally not have any clue what he is doing. He is libertarian and against something but no one seems to know what. He doesn't even seem to know what he delivered to the Cultural Critic.
  

“The Yuletide Cyberpunk Yarn, or Christmas_Eve-117.DIR” by Victor Pelevin (1996, translated from Russian by Alex Shvartsman)
A corrupt mayor’s computer is infected by a virus that causes chaos in Russia.

• Special Guest Ruin: This was a fascinating story to read. The way the narrative segued from a discussion on poetry to a darkly comedic look at a Russian city was remarkable. The author seems to like to start or lead with a theme or themes which seem to be only tangentially related to each other such as for example the name of the computer virus, or Gerasimov and his dog. But both elements circle back into the story and are crucial to its structure. As for the content of the story itself, I amused myself by imagining the events as being a movie that blended the stylistic elements of Tarantino and Wes Anderson. So we have brutal, bloody violence in increasingly absurd settings and the way it is all described makes it easy to imagine it all taking place amidst the highly stylized sets and characters we would expect in a Wes Anderson movie. Overall, I really enjoyed this story.
  
• Farragut: We’ve read Pelevin before in Modern Fantasy. First of all, this is a fantastic title for a story, period. Second of all, I just enjoyed Pelevin’s style here (via Shvartsman’s translation), with an omniscient narrator telling us about a completely ridiculous situation. It gets a little cagey with the identity of the perpetrator and the ending, but I’m very curious as to how darkly I should read it (now that I think about it, it’s directly connected to the original, so I should read it very darkly indeed). Shvartsman’s occasional footnotes were very helpful, however, especially with the context surrounding Gerasim(ov) and Mumu.
  
• fanny: Ruin's review is so good, I am not sure what to add. The style of this story fit the elements so well. It starts with a poem whose themes carry through the story. The footnotes were a really great addition and helped contextualize. The narrator keeps upping the ridiculousness until we get to the end and everything gets wrapped up.
  

“Wonderama” by Bef (1998, translated from Spanish by the author)
Lalo (or is it Eduardo?) wakes up every day in the most awesome life in 1974, but it’s revealed to be a lie and ends tragically.

• Farragut: Bef is a Mexican SF writer, a crime writer, and a graphic novelist, and honestly his whole bibliography sounds cool as heck. Told in a series of diary entries with some small interruptions, we follow a kid whose life is like a Mexican kid’s sugar-fueled dream. The reason for its inclusion in this thematic section of the anthology becomes clear however, and I yelled, “Noooo!” at the ending. Sigh. It’s very good!
  
• fanny: I am a sucker for diary entry style stories and this was no exception. Lalo’s life seems almost perfect, but it feels so off. The story feels progressively more off until we start to question everything. Also, yelled “Nooo!” at the ending. Very good. Absolutely loved.
  

“comp.basilisk FAQ” by David Langford (1999) (link to story)
A FAQ-style story that clearly describes a bizarre future where images on the web and TV are banned due to the risk of death.

• Farragut: Langford is famous for having the most Hugo wins (29), mostly for the Fan Writer category, but also Short Story (not this one) and Best Related Work (not this one either). This is a delightful story that made me think of it as a precursor to qntm’s later story “Lena” from Week 5 (though obviously only in general form). Apparently I love the faux-nonfiction style where some of the horror and plot is between the lines. The final FAQ about Microsoft was darkly funny.
  
• fanny: This was fun and very short. The FAQs related to basilisk and writing were great. It goes between funny, dark humor, and just dark. I liked the commentary on technology and software. I also really appreciate the standard response answers explaining they should post someone else. This is something I deal with often and this was great.
  

“Spider's Nest” by Myra Çakan (2004, translated from German by Jim Young; also available in the anthology The Apex Book of World SF 3 edited by Lavie Tidhar)
Spider, uh, does something? Is looking for drugs, maybe? But something else happens instead?

• Farragut: Çakan is a German writer from Hamburg, and after reading this story, I’d say Shurin made hamburger out of me, too. The main thing I got out of this story was that Spider really wanted something, maybe. I thought it was drugs, but he got angry at his dealer and then got super weird with his friend’s girlfriend? And then there was a Silver Spider, who wasn’t him, but maybe he plugged himself in to replace her? What is happening?
  
• fanny: Spider definitely wanted drugs from his dealer, Ant. I think. Ant got annoyed at something then Spider got into a voyeur situation (maybe). There is a Silver Spider in his dreams that makes him feel better. I couldn't tell if this was dream or drug induced or technology induced. The end is super weird and makes even less sense than the story. Spider might have done a murder on himself? I have been confused before in this anthology, but not to this level.
  

That’s it for this week! Check back the same time next week where we’ll be reading and discussing "The Last American" by John Kessel, "Earth Hour" by Ken MacLeod, "Violation of the TrueNet Security Act" by Taiyo Fujii, "Twelve Minutes to Vinh Quang" by T. R. Napper, and "Operation Daniel" by Khalid Kaki.
Also posted on Bochord Online.

My older brother was giving a $1 million dollar house. I was given only a $900,000 house and a ferrari but I won't get them until I'm 21 and have to go to school. Also, my house cleaner keeps on putting my things in the wrong place and I can't find them. I yelled at her but she's so stupid. It makes me want to destroy the entire planet.
But maybe that's not enough. I would cause heat-death ensuring no complexity would ever again occur in the universe.
My Uncle's cousin's boyfriend's wife's X-son's inlaws (47M) said that wouldn't be good so I came to Reddit so I can weaponize popular opinion against hims.

Well here we are, FG, our first decades tournament, the 2010’s. Thank you to everyone who nominated movies, and let’s get right into it!
Results of Round 1

• Spider-Man Into the Spider-Verse (2018) (9) beat 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016) (8) and Sorry to Bother You (2018) (6)
• Snowpiercer (2013) (11) beat 12 Years a Slave (2013) (7), and Spotlight (2015) (6)
• Skyfall (2012) (9) beat 127 Hours (2010) (8) and Spring Breakers (2012) (7)
• First Reformed (2017) (10) beat Skate Kitchen (2018) (3), and Steve Jobs (2015) (3)
• 1917 (2019) (9) beat Sing Street (2016) (6), and Stoker (2013) (6)
• Silence (2016) (14) beat 20th Century Women (2016) (4) and Stray Dogs (2013) (3)
• Sicario (2015) (17) beat Sunset (2017) (3) and 50/50 (2011) (3)
• Shutter Island (2010) (11) beat A Field in England (2013) (5), and Tabu (2012) (2)
• A Ghost Story (2017) (13) beat Short Term 12 (2013) (6), and Tehran Taboo (2017) (1)
• A Separation (2011) (7) tied with Shoplifters (2018) (7), and beat The Act of Killing (2012) (3)
• The American (2010) (8) beat A Silent Voice (2016) (2), and Shin Godzilla (2016) (2)
• The Assassin (2015) (11) beat Shame (2011) (7), and A Star is Born (2018) (5)
• Scott Pilgrim vs the World (2010) (11) beat Ad Astra (2019) (6), and The Avengers (2012) (4)
• The Babadook (2014) (10) beat All is Lost (2013) (7) and Rubber (2010) (4)
• Annihilation (2018) (15) beat Room (2015) (5), and The Babysitter (2017) (2)
• Roma (2018) (12) beat April and the Extraordinary World (2015) (4), and The Conjuring (2013) (3)
• The Big Short (2015) (7) beat Aquarius (2016) (5), and Right Now, Wrong Then (2015) (0)
• Arrival (2016) (16) beat Raw (2016) (3), and The Big Sick (2017) (1)
• Atomic Blonde (2017) (6) beat Rango (2011) (5) and The Captain (2017) (3)
  
• The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) (8) beat Post Tenebras Lux (2012) (3), and Bait (2019) (1)
  
• Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) (10) beat Barbara (2012) (1), and The Counselor (2013) (1)
  
• The Death of Stalin (2017) (8) beat Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping (2016) (6), and Beasts of No Nation (2015) (3)
  
• Birdman (2014) (7) tied Phoenix (2014) (7) and beat The Double (2013) (2)
  
• Black Swan (2010) (11) beat Phantom Thread (2017) (8), and The Drop (2014) (3)
  
• Blade Runner 2049 (2017) (11) beat The Florida Project (2017) (9), and The House That Jack Built (2018) (2)
  
• The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) (15) beat Blindspotting (2018) (2), and Paddington 2 (2017) (1)
  
• Blue is the Warmest Color (2013) (7) beat Only Lovers Left Alive (2013) (6), and The Great Beauty (2013) (2)
  
• The Handmaiden (2016) (11) beat Bone Tomahawk (2015) (7), and Only God Forgives (2013) (4)
  
• Once Upon a Time....In Hollywood (2019) (15) beat The Hateful Eight (2015) (8), and Bridge of Spies (2015) (4)
  
• Boyhood (2014) (7) beat Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (2011) (5), and The Hollars (2016) (2)
  
• O.J. Made in America (2016) (10) beat Parasite (2019) (9), and Brooklyn (2015) (5)
  
• Nightcrawler (2014) (12) beat Burning (2018) (7), and The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) (1)
  
• Nebraska (2013) (7) beat The Hunt (2012) (4), and Byzantium (2012) (4)
  
• Mysteries of Lisbon (2010) (4) beat Carlos (2010) (3), and The Imposter (2012) (2)
  
• Carol (2015) (12) beat The Irishman (2019) (6), and mother! (2017) (3)
  
• The Lighthouse (2019) (9) beat Moonrise Kingdom (2012) (8), and Cemetery of Splendour (2015) (4)
  
• Moonlight (2016) (9) beat The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017) (5), and Chappie (2015) (3)
  
• Molly’s Game (2017) (8) beat Coherence (2013) (7), and Cloud Atlas (2012) (4)
  
• The Master (2012) (11) beat Mission Impossible: Fallout (2018) (6), and The Martian (2015) (5)
  
• Cold War (2018) (5) ties Meek's Cutoff (2010) (5), and beats The Missing Picture (2013) (2)
  
• The Nice Guys (2016) (14) beat Contagion (2011) (5), and Mary Poppins Returns (2018) (2)
  
• Margaret (2011) (9) beat The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) (6), and Creed (2015) (2)
  
• Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) (8) tied with The Raid 2 (2014) (8), and beat Maps to the Stars (2014) (3)
  
• Drive (2011) (17) beat The Revenant (2015) (6), and Mandy (2018) (4)
  
• Django Unchained (2012) (11) beat The Salesman (2016) (3) and Made in Dagenham (2010) (2)
  
• Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) (9) beat Train to Busan (2016) (5), and Diamantino (2018) (1)
  
• Eighth Grade (2018) (5) beat Elle (2016) (4), and Long Way North (2015) (2)
  
• The Turin Horse (2011) (10) beat Logan (2017) (9), and El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie (2019) (0)
  
• The Way Back (2010) (8) beat Locke (2013) (5), and The Tree of Life (2011) (4)
  
• Embrace of the Serpent (2015) (10) beat Little Women (2019) (6), and The Whispering Star (2015) (2)
  
• Enemy (2013) (6) tied with The Wind Rises (2013) (6) and beat Like Someone in Love (2012) (3)
  
• Life of Pi (2012) (9) beat The Witch (2015) (8), and Evangelion 3.0 You Can (Not) Redo (2012) (1)
  
• The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) (7) beat Leave No Trace (2018) (6) and Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010) (3)
  
• Ex Machina (2014) (9) beat Thoroughbreds (2017) (4), and Le Havre (2011) (3)
  
• Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017) (13) beat Ladybird (2017) (9), and Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile (2019)
  
• La La Land (2016) (13) beat 13 Assassins (2010) (4), and White Boy Rick (2018) (1)
  
• The Social Network (2010) (11) Four Lions (2010) (5), and Kung Fu Panda 2 (2011) (2)
  
• Get Out (2017) (7) beat Two Days, One Night (2014) (5), and Konosuba Legend of Crimson (2019) (1)
  
• Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010) (7) beat Girlhood (2014) (4), and Klaus (2019) (1)
  
• Under the Skin (2013) (13) beat Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014) (3), and God Bless America (2011) (2)
  
• Upstream Color (2013) (8) beat Killer Joe (2011) (7), and I Saw The Devil (2010) (4)
  
• Good Time (2017) (11) beat Joker (2019) (6), and Us (2019) (2)
  

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