The Fast and the In-Furious…

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As I stated many times before. When you begin to get successful at whatever you are doing and then comes a long a rat bastard to try to trip your ass up. This is a strategy is like the fucking war on terrorism – that too is a war on a tactic only. This too is unsuccessful. The big bad wolves are all but dead from trying to blow down my iron-clad carbonite fortress.

The rat bastards and the wolves are all but casualties left to rot. More about that later.

Now, I must admit, the last couple of weeks or so has been if anything, exciting. With my new Alienware Area 51 as seen below. With this new addition has come other things like upgrades of components, rearranging my work center since this machine weighs in over 80 pounds. The human skull on the top doesn’t count.

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Yes, owning this machine is a fantastic dream that has finally come true. Not only that, with my wonderful support from around the world and from studios in California – Northern California that is, I was able to purchase the Alienware M17xR4 Laptop with the Vindicator V.2 Pack for when I go and show my work in whatever format or project.

Remember and please keep this in mind, I am far more than a writer, a published author, graphic artist, web developer, artist, and musician. I dabble in alternative energy, zero-based energy to include my favorite scientist of all time, Nikola Tesla. Meanwhile back to my day to day activities, I use the Adobe Creative Master’s Edition CC 2017. I also have been dabbling in Photoshop professionally since 2000 hot and heavy. I have been using some flavor of Photoshop since the mid 1990s. Of course my artistic talents both in graphics, musical scores, short movies or movie-editing without putting too fine a point on things – well a normal stylish lightweight petite laptop with a dismal screen and horseshit for memory and two tin cans for sound just isn’t gonna cut it with the kind of work I do. No, you need a portable studio when you are on the run with all the bells and switches. You need something durable, built to last, and all the trimmings to floor a motherfucker, or a staff meeting of entire motherfuckers in my case. (Add the Samuel L. Jackson style to the last couple of sentences.)

Now I don’t want to knock Apple and those who have Apple iMacs and that door wedge of a laptop, but you really do get what you pay for outside of the Apple world. There is nothing close that touches these machines, that is if you want to spend $15,000.00 on an iMac tower and there isn’t a Laptop made by Apple that can come close to the Alienware product line. Now, I am not a shill or someone that works directly for Dell or Alienware. Sure, there are haters out there that sit around and complain about Alienware while operating their Walmart Public Assistance Machines.

Hate if you must…

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Let me get away from technology and set my Samsung 10.1 inch tablet down from the emails, tweets, and messages I get day in and day out. I can read them all much later. I am just going to sit in my 20 some-odd year old chair where I pump out eBooks, Traditional Paperbacks, posts, blog articles, and occasionally without exception piss some jealous cunt (bi-gender word I use) off. Now this all of this isn’t some short story or a wet dream. I have more than enough short stories on this blog that should give you a very keen grasp in how I write to include style and or content.

If I am such a poor writer, ask yourself this question; why are you still reading my material no matter the subject?

If you don’t like my artwork, you know, the shit I am getting paid for and paid to do then why are you looking at it?

Why do you feel compelled to even come here and waste your time in the first place?

I’ve asked these rhetorical questions before and this is the last time I need to discuss this since all of what I do is paying the goddamned bills and earning a living.

Maybe that is the issue, me doing some of the things I always dreamed about doing and getting paid for it.

Moving on and leaving the dead and dying behind in the wake of my determined momentum.

I have a lot to say, perhaps some things better not shared here but on Facebook, or a tweet that is razor sharp and cuts deep into the bone to some specific people who thinks they can get a free lunch of knocking me and my work around.

Now, I will say that my experience, my overall experience has been mostly a very positive one. I had, since the course of last summer, friends that came and went. You know the kind, or the infamous saying, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” This has been a proverb of mine along with a good many people so it seems. Another that comes to mind is, “No good deed goes unpunished.” Yeah, we all had these “kinds” of friends. Again, these rat bastards are not your or anyone’s friends.

That last paragraph there, you can take that motherfucker to the bank and bet the house on that one. Yes, some of my “friends” closest to me were not my friends at all as it seems. They were anything but.

For the record, I try to help out everyone. I try to put my best foot forwards in hopes of their successes and personal problems. Then when I need some help, some understanding, some resolve, I get, yup, you guessed it, zilch.

I am speaking directly to a couple of three or four people out here. An argument for five can be considered. Nevertheless, these assholes that would not give me the time of day after I helped them, well let’s see if this Karma shit will come back ten fold upon each of them.

Being mean, being vindictive, or holding a grudge is nothing I enjoy doing. Frankly, I am too goddamned busy. Rather it is a waste of energy and time. This is something that I am certain that you all can agree to. I will just leave these spineless fucks in the bad odor I found them all in the first place.

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Now please allow me to add some encouragement to those who are struggling in their artistic, uber-talented endeavors. Now, 99% of all people who want to be a writer, a painter, and musicians never make it.

Why?

There are a few reasons from getting tired struggling, getting down by those same fucking leaches who drag anyone down and are nothing but losers, to illness, emotional, mental, or otherwise. Sometimes a gifted person just needs to unplug and take a long walk to an airport and board a flight to anywhere. Yeah, I’ve done that and I cannot express how much fun I had ditching my former life behind and starting a new. You certainly don’t have to go to extremes like that. You don’t have to come into your Boss’s office and piss all over him and his desk on your way out but if you can, I highly recommended it. Look at all the money you will save from spending it on therapy.

I also know full well on how overcoming or overwhelming all this can be. Pressures of life, family, the job – the one that you are a fucking slave to, and dreams seeming to fade or die. Nothing grieves me more than to see someone realize that their lifetime ambitions has come to a grinding halt.

Truly, the living dead…

One thing is for certain, I am eclectic as well as unusual. The song, “Divide” by Disturbed says it all about me and those like me. I have been different from what seemed like everyone else since I can remember. I tried to be like them in the early years but when you are in survival mode and held hostage by demons at home, well, it’s nearly impossible to just to breath let alone, express yourself.

Nevertheless, sometimes a break is in order. Sometimes stepping back from something to give you a fresh perspective is essential. A new stratagem because the one you’re into right now is not doing jack shit to the bottom line of things.

I know I write blunt. I know I can be brutally honest at times and seemingly unmerciful. I know that my hands may be caring but to reset that broken bone of yours is really gonna smart. Same with a broken heart. I know a lot of talented people. I know poets who write the most beautifully but cannot tell a goddamned good story. This goes for the short story people too.

You want to go the long haul?

Then sit down and write a full-blown novel from a blank screen. Edit it after you have finally finished before sending it off to an editor if you can afford one. Design the cover, spine, and back cover of the book. Take goddamn charge of your work in all aspects and whatever you do, don’t let the rat bastards tell you different.

Never give up and never get complacent in your talents. To be a master at something will take all of your life. Take charge. Don’t wait around for someone else that will or may ever come. Publish your novel, it’s really easy. Master the social media platforms and most importantly, don’t be a fucking baby about it.

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Thank you for reading,

Douglas S. Taylor


Grimstalker

Copyright Protected @2017 by DarkWorX

In these woods, I am the boss. Least, this is what my fellow brothers and sisters say. Most days I am pretty easy going and you really have to go out of your way to really piss me off. When you do, well, let’s just say you opened up a frosty keg of Old Testament Retribution. Naturally, I’m not religious, and make no mistake, all religions say there is no room for my kind in any heaven. I will say look at the big picture of things, I can’t see my sorry ass sitting on some cloud playing a goddamned harp and that would be a living hell. Nevertheless, something about the unforgiving vengeful god that just gives me some righteous wood. You know what I am saying and if you don’t best mind your own business.

I love rolling with my kind like thunder through these beautiful black hills sporting our colors, our tribal colors that is. Ours is like no other and those fucking sissies that say they are some outlaw biker don’t know the meaning of, “The 1%.” Sure, just because we look human, act human, and on any other day, have empathy of a human, well, there is just more than just leather jackets, high octane, and the crack of an opening throttle. After all, happiness is a flick of the right wrist away. However, you see, there is more than what you can normally see about my kind. There is so very much more beneath the skin as they may say.

Human shell on the outside and our truer selves on the inside. Believe whatever makes you sleep better at nights thinking you know there is no such things as ghosts, phantoms, vampires, monsters, and my kind, the werewolf. Yeah, that’s fucking right, there’s all kinds of creatures walking day or night. We are your doctors, nurses, service men and women, the police, the fire fighters, and shit. But one goddamned thing you got to understand is that we are indeed only human on the outside. Inside of my kind is a blizzard of wrath that no man can contain though many have tried — tried and died. There’s a whole goddamned nation of a cemetery full of them. More scattered to the four winds in the form of shallow graves and rotting remains hidden away. Up here in the hills, there are more old mine shafts than people, and in the bottom of these are hills of bones who thought once upon a time that humans were at the top of the food chain.

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Listen, the moon does not hold its sway over my kind. Piss me off and have me in a corner, and I will show you the animal within from zero to spilling your guts in less than a couple of seconds. Not to worry, you’ll be plenty alive when your small and large intestines splash its payload on those new boots of yours. Also, let me clue you in on something else, religious relicts, crosses and such, spells and incantations don’t do jack shit either. Once upon a time long before you or I were a pup and then some, we overcame the silver bullet thing. I mean, in the spite of what you’ve seen in the shows, Hollywood, and shit like that, you’re in for one hell of a shocker when your silver hallow-points has no effect on us other than messing up our clothing. Not to mention, pissing any of us off.

Like I said earlier, I am a pretty easy going guy. I’d rather smile, laugh, smoke weed, and hang out at the Gallows talking shit, and meeting other members of packs from out of state sorts.

We all have specialties, I mean, you know, what we do in our more natural, or perceived in your eyes as, “Unnatural” we have our own names, handles, and skill sets. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking and you’re already wrong.
When we are in our natural state, we are cunning, fast as lightening and the weakest among us is as strong as any ten men you may want to chose. The brothers and sisters of my pack and those of my kind call me the, “Grimstalker.”

Trust me, every since I was a pup, I made it a profession in tracking down the free-range rubes that tend to get a little too close to things of ours, our business, our way of life, our land. Oh, for the fuck of Christ, trespassing on my land really raises the fucking hackles on the back of my neck.

Sitting up at my cabin here in the Black Hills you have to go off the beaten path, the roadway, and follow an old mining road and then turns to a path and a bridge over a small creek just to get to my land. I have no use for “visitors” of the human kind let alone uninvited assholes. Trust me in saying, I can hear a real dumbass walking up from the road far below. If the wind is blowing right, I’ll pick up the scent of the poor son of a bitch. Then your goddamned ass is all mine.

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This is where I turn from a guy catching some porn on the tube to my namesake. I jump up and already I can feel the change come on. I keep it in my pants if you know what I mean. Then on my way out, I grab my stainless mattock. It’s a custom job like a stainless tomahawk or one hell of a bitching hatchet with one unfucking-forgiving business end. You’ll never see it coming, you might hear it buzzing through the air and maybe, just maybe the sun will dance ever so briefly just before I take the top of your fucking skull clean off.

Again, you’ll be still alive when my gifting separates some of that grey matter of yours. Then as you slide down next to a tree, you’ll be sure to see me. Though because of the missing portions of your fucking brains, you’ll be not doing much else except look up at me as blood flows from your mouth and ears while shitting and pissing yourself in doing so. It usually happens to most people and I don’t hold that against anyone just so you know.

Then with my claws I dig into your exposed brain for a fucking taste and that is when you fade away right when I got a good paw full of your brains as your body has its fits, seizures, and shit. I’ll let you die as I eat and fetch my mattock right above your body pulling it from the tree along with the top of your skull and scalp. The scent of fresh blood in the air — your blood that is. You won’t know it, but very soon, day or night, we’ll be feasting upon your remains.

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It Has Been A While But I Am Still At It!

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Created By Douglas S. Taylor for DarcWorX

I know it has been some time since I wrote a post. I am far from being dead and just like the inflammatory magazine cover states, I haven’t gone anywhere!

No, instead, here at my little corner of gloom, my sorcery in all things “Darc” has went for an immediate upgrade. First it was the Adobe Creative Master’s Collection CC 2017 and hardware upgrades galore. Yes, a new Alienware Area 51 R2 fully decked out with three NVidia’s GTX 1080 TIs grinding out the extreme HD graphics rendering in mega huge media formats such as Bus Stop Posters, billboards, additional art and design. It is strange to me that most people can work with Windows 10 Creative with 4 or 8 gigs. I have 64 Gigs of RAM and when I am into my larger work I utilize anywhere between 75 to 90% of my memory and my Pagefile is screaming at 95% or more. If you are into rendering out huge gigabyte Photoshop Files and Premiere videos to your client’s server, you need not only this kind of horsepower but the serious uploading bandwidth. With 1 Gb/s download and 200 Mb/s upload you really need this.

I DON’T PLAY GAMES and this is not a gaming rig though it has all the trimmings for decimating any game in the market. I am not bragging, I am showing you how serious you need to be when you are into the things that I do. True, I write with Microsoft Office 2016, I have Outlook 2016 open, Photoshop, and my music player pumping the tunes through my Logitech Artemis Spectrum C933 Wireless 7.1 Surround Sound Headset. Music is my muse and like Gene Simmons said, “I love it loud!”

True that!

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My Alienware M17 R4 Laptop joins the Darc Forces in two days and that is for when I am on the road to various studios in Northern California. Yes, there are studios now that displays my original pieces, One is actually a clothing designing studio where the public can purchase artistic designed clothing. You can go to my Facebook page and Twitter for more information and my cyber studio. All items are $75.00 USD plus shipping and tax. I have nothing to do with the fashion itself, just my art they want and they do the rest. I am told that one studio has a huge oil-based print of mine in their gallery that is 60 inches by 240 inches long all in a frame. I am assured it will sell and when everyone takes a bite out of the sale, I may just have enough to rub a couple of shiny new nickels together.

So, as you can see, I have been very busy. I also would like to make mention that I am leaving the eBook scene and going full throttle with Amazon Books in Traditional Paperbacks and Hardcovers. Already, “The Many Unnatural Lives of Scott Solomon Dean” has its ISBN for being sold via Amazon all over the world. I am also told that I will be in charge of setting the price of each book I produce. Since, I do the book designs already for a few special clients, and I am indeed a professional at what I do, designing my own covers is always KILLER.

Some good folks out here and in the world ask about what I write or a sample of my work. As you know, this is the official one and only blog of DarcWorX which is me. I am DarcWorX as far as my LLC Business is concerned. Moreover, DarcWorX is Douglas S. Taylor.  Okay, to the point; I have a lot of material here for those who want to get entertained and find value in my short stories here. As of late, “The Sheriff” that is on the “What’s Hot List” (still) is a great sample based upon “The Werewolves of Deadwood” that will be a full novel upon its own. There are other stories too and to include a real paranormal story, a non-fiction account of an angry ghost while I was stationed in Egypt.

You get the point. Also, there is a keen search feature on the upper right corner of the main page of my blog. I have everything tagged so it makes it real easy for people to find things.

Okay, yeah, I realize that I am nearly a one man show and I know that obviously irks a couple of hating people that lives for trolling. I am not getting negative or fall out of a perfectly great airliner and dive down through the thick jungle canopy tops crashing down to their level on the murky muddy swamps where gator bait and gas bubbles is all they are to me anyway.

Let me see if I am missing anything important…

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Yes, I will be adding a couple of new page and categories to this blog that will have links to the various studios I mentioned and where you can purchase clothing items, HD Oil-Based, and HD prints to scare away any rats you may have in the house or workplace. All this will be coming soon, very soon.

Thanks for reading and if you have any questions, please contact me at: Kromaethius1962@gmail.com

 

Douglas S. Taylor

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Now You Can Contribute and Spread the “Darc” World!

Now You Can Contribute and Help Spread the "Darc" World!

Good evening, good afternoon, and or good “mourning” to all who follow this unique blog of horrors and grim eye-candy. I know it may have been a while since I wrote anything like, “The Sheriff” who finds himself confronted by a possible werewolf of unknown origin responsible for at least one immediate death of a loved one. One might say it’s a short story, a prelude, a sample of things to come.

Oh, yes indeed. Things are changing on DarcWorX. One of the major changes is the fact that I listen to my fans and friends. In doing so, I will not be publishing any more eBooks but instead I will be offering traditional paperbacks through Amazon Publishing and like the former eBooks, these new editions will be sold Internationally. I have taken down, “The Haunted Library” from the damp and mysterious corridors of this blogsite only temporarily. Everything else remains the same but only better. In the past, organizations along with fans demanded the paperback version of what I write. This I am going to do. Naturally, I need your help, your financial donations made possible through PayPal. This is also set up for the International Audience on a very secure and familiar service that everyone already knows.

I promise you with funding, my little “Darc” world will greatly expand in both marketing and in advertising costs.

You as an avid fan and reader has certainly experienced my personal growth in writing and in the “Darc” arts. There are many stories, short stories within this blog to easily convince you that I am indeed gifted as a writer and in graphics design. I don’t say these things lightly. I don’t say these things first hand. These positive things are said by tens of thousands of fans world-wide.

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DarcWorX nor do I ask for much. Any donation of any amount will go to what I have mentioned plus expedite the publishing of the paperbacks that will be made available only on Amazon throughout the known world. Additional funding will also go on equipment and upkeep of my future home office.

Oh yes, as I stated time, and time again. Subscriptions to this blog are free for everyone. Now, I don’t keep email addresses, and WordPress assures me that they don’t SPAM or give your email addresses out. I never see them or have to deal with that and you should not have to worry about things like that too.

Let me bring you up to speed on some other things, or additional projects. Now, I want everyone to know that “Tales From Under the Concrete” in all three volumes of these eBooks will be, as they are, buried in a deep vault and shall never see the light of day again. Leastwise in the eBook fashion. I will no doubt create an updated and overpowering version of this ominous collection that included such grisly tales as, “Dead Indian,” “The Devil in Deadwood,” and so many others that touch upon various common elements and characters like, “The Whispering Pines Sanitarium,” “Raven Blackstone,” and for the “Werewolves of Deadwood,” most will agree that needs to be its own novel or a series of novels. There is just too much going on down at, “The Gallows,” and “The Busted Bitch Saloon.”

Deadwood amongst other things has its own history, gaming, adult entertainment, and more than enough paranormal activity to capture the minds and souls looking for such things. In fact, Lawrence County to include, Lead (pronounced as “Leed”) is an old gold mining town with stories of its own. For me, Lawrence County in its entirety has a lot that an over-active imagination can take in. It is a pleasure for me to write about what possibly can be called an otherwise “Raven State” that no one gives a second thought about with a grand total population of only 700,700 people with a 4 to 7% decline with the biggest export is our youth as they fly overhead.

Yeah, that saddens me some. Sure, but what are you going to do, right?

Hell

For me and my family, we chose to move out here after my exile at Pierre, South Dakota. I did my time in hell thank you very much. The prairie never done anything for me and nothing in sharp contrast to the Black Hills here. Plenty of great things to do and actually see. I am not a travel agency, but you can Google or Bing it all you want though.

As far as my life is concerned and according to Laura, Lawrence County has been the longest place I personally lived at. This is a personal record. I thought I might throw that in there too.

I would like to take this moment in time and thank the tens of thousands of folks who have come to read and take with them a little something in return. So, if you do find DarcWorX which is synonymous to me, Douglas S. Taylor. Well, I am certainly thankful for that too.

Don’t make yourself a stranger and when the time comes to release my next novel that I am working on between things, I will make sure you all will know about it and the “Haunted Library” page reinstated.

Thanks for your time, your donations, and your support.

Douglas S. Taylor

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Narcissistic Pathology; Why You Need to be Aware!

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Some time ago I wrote a post about psychic vampires who are not some supernatural cartoon-like vampires who uses a crystal ball, tarot cards, and predict the future. Yes, there are a few people in the United States that thought that is exactly what the post is about. Now, I don’t mean to come off as the majority of the World’s Populous who believes that the American Public in general are absurdly stupid.

Moreover, it does make you wonder though.

I find it necessary to clarify the original post with this more clinical one so that any inept people will understand exactly where I am coming from. Since I write horror along with speculative fiction, suspense and thrillers, dark comedy, and own dark fantasy while pissing off the asshole community in droves. More like pissing on their fucking backs and calling it rain – They have it coming and nothing is like aggravating, annoying, and razing the trolls to ashes. Yeah, like it, love it, or leave it.

I am opinionated. This is what’s worse, I am educated and can back most anything up with a blizzard or reliable and vetted resources. You may have remembered another blog of mine called, “Black Reign Operations; What the United States Government Doesn’t Want You to Know.” Yeah all that and a bag of chips!

Psychopathic behaviors manifesting in their own lives and laying waste to all lives they touch. They don’t give a fuck about you as they fake every outer emotion to include empathy. They’re apathetic and only care about achieving their true agendas. If they aren’t hell-bent to achieve these dark ambitions, they would be soulless and outer husks of a human being void of anything making themselves a positive part of humanity.

Let’s call it like it is…

You cannot be a billionaire without these psychopathic behaviors undermining and devastating anything and everyone perceived as a threat. There is also no such thing as being a partial psychopath. You are one, or you’re not.

Good news for some and not so good news for others. DarcWorX only brings cold comfort with a tombstone finality.

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Here is a list of traits of the criminal mental disorders associated with the psychopathy, a checklist called the Hare Psychopathy Checklist Revised or the PCL-R.

  • Glib and superficial charm
    Grandiose (exaggeratedly high) estimation of self
    Need for stimulation
    Pathological lying (Sociopathic Included)
    Cunning and manipulativeness
    Lack of remorse or guilt (Sociopathic Included)
    Shallow affect (superficial emotional responsiveness) (Sociopathic Included)
    Callousness and lack of empathy (Sociopathic Included)
    Parasitic lifestyle
    Poor behavioral controls (Sociopathic Included)
    Sexual promiscuity (Sociopathic Included)
    Early behavior problems (Sociopathic Included)
    Lack of realistic long-term goals (Sociopathic Specifically)
    Impulsivity (Sociopathic Included)
    Irresponsibility (Sociopathic Included)
    Failure to accept responsibility for own actions (Sociopathic Included)
    Many short-term marital relationships (Sociopathic Included)
    Juvenile delinquency (Sociopathic Included)
    Revocation of conditional release (Sociopathic Included)
    Criminal versatility

Sociopathic behavior is included in this list however, the sociopathic behavior never can make it this far according to the latest studies in behavioral and criminal mental disorders. The Sociopathic populous are too prone to self-imploding, too easy to unravel and get caught to say nothing of the rage and juvenile mind — a stunted sort that never makes it passed their school years, antics, and lifestyles.

Case Study of Sociopathy: Judith Rene(e) Champ AKA Judy Oberlander, AKA Rene(e) Oberlander or Champ.

For another example; You know them through unsolicited dick-pictures sent, and fowl odors of their incapacity of rational cool-headed thoughts with any kind of real plans in any great detail and an insult to your intellect. Sociopaths usually carry nothing more than a low-average to barely room temperature (on a cold day) I.Q. which is typical of the subject, Judith Champ. 

Psychopaths more often than not, have a much higher IQ than Sociopaths and thus much more successful with the ability to go unnoticed, to blend in, and for many by until it is too late. Narcissistic (pathologically speaking) will only use YOU to serve their needs and ambitions leading YOU in personal, financial, and spiritual ruin.

NTL

Both kinds thrive here in the social media. For the psychopaths, it is a training ground of emotional and mental manipulation in the furtherance of their cunningness and hone upon their agility. They will always, without exception, betray your friendship as soon as they are done with you.

As soon as they are done with you. I think it would be very fair to say that these monsters find their victims so very easily now a days utilizing the Internet and Social Media. 

There is a distinct difference between the psychopathic world and that of the sloping fore headed sociopathic communities abound. The more that you research these two types of criminal disorders, the better off, and protected you will be.

You don’t have to be a serial killer to be either one. Though it seems, that it is either one of these two pathologies who are indeed serial killers.

Let’s leave the serial killing types behind and look into the minds of the 1% of the World’s Wealth. Not much of a difference when you compare them to the PCL-R.  They look at themselves as godlike and play with the 99% of humanity imposing their pestilence of wrathful cruelty upon the masses. These monsters in their own right achieved all the wealth they can. Now they’re feeding off of their power. They become so deluded and entrenched with their power-agendas of making everyone suffer like the parasites they are. They often fail to realize that they are systematically killing off their hosts leading to their own ruin. Bill Gates, Ted Turner, George Soros, and about 2,000 nation-wide all hang out devising a means of more power and control. All these people have already made bold and horrific statements in wiping out what they believe is the surplus population – That’s you and me.

Adult

Think, “Agenda 21” and all their means that touches the very air we breath and the water we drink. To the medications we take, to the corporate tyranny circumventing every check or balance in their way. To the GMO foods and leaching poisons and yet many don’t or cannot see the end coming for the average person. Sheeple so dazed and confused and akin to the real life Zombies, the walking dead who marvel at all the shiny distractions. They are already dead. The NFL, the “Not For Long” and generalization in professional sports are all tied into the latter days of Empires. Think of Rome and this is another topic. Though, a ploy we see throughout history time and time again. And again, the American Public will be left holding the fucking check!

It is obvious to me of these things I speak of, these things I witnessed first hand, and how gullible the moths are to the very flames that will end them. In America where society is ever increasingly becoming morally bankrupt, the general populous treats these narcissists as heroes and serial killers as of some kind of gods.

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Werewolves of Deadwood; The Legend of Connolly Pettimore

Blackened

Introduction and Shit Like That

Since the beginning of my works of, “Tales From Under the Concrete” that shatters the normalcy of compliance in the macabre and horror genre, the “Werewolves of Deadwood” has appeared as short stories. This includes segments and side stories that I love to do as it adds to the ambience of not only the tale itself but that of Deadwood itself.  Now on to the next thing I would like to bring to bare and that is the fact that DarcWorX and myself, Douglas S. Taylor are one of the same. With so much written and the energy that I put into this blog over the long haul, anyone who isn’t deaf, dumb, and blind should get more than enough proof in becoming exposed to my talents without excuse.

Yes, I know that I am not for everyone in the adult horror, thriller, suspense, dark fantasy to say nothing of the macabre genres I write – I can also assure with equal measure that everyone out here isn’t for me either. Having said this, I am who I am, I write in a unique sort of way, a style of my own, and an International fanbase that expects nothing less from me. Though, this fanbase is small, means everything to me to include my loyalties with each and everyone of them. Yes, I even regard most of these people as friends. Oh, dare I even say that (enters sarcasm). For those who are just becoming writers, authors who are entering the world of the Internet along with the social media I would like to welcome you and warn you. You shall find friends and fans who are anything of what they seem to be. They are anything but positive influences and most you shall find out are envious and are cruel shadowy reflections of humanity.

Be warned.

More importantly, you continue being yourself and constantly strive to perfect your gifts and talents. Rise above and beyond the shit-eating trolls, imposters of those called friends, fans, and critics. Critics, real critics will always point out the good with those things that needs work on through a constructive atmosphere – Thank them, take their comments and opinions in heart. With all else, fuck them, press on, and give no more thought to these posers.

With the advent of the Internet, the creation of Social Media via the web, everyone has a voice. I would concede that for most, they don’t need a voice and remaining silent would be the best choice they can make. Alas, the genie as it were, is out of the bottle.

Over time, I have been accused of many crimes against humanity as suggested by this particular article of a man who disguises himself as a woman and another pretending to be a human whose interests are into exploiting Asian underage girls.

Nevertheless, if you strive to be the best you can be, you will run into parasites like these. Put the dogs in the ditch with plenty of lime and bury these and move on. I have been accused of being a racist because of the dialogs of characters and what they have said in the course of a particular story. This is utterly shameful and a pathetic of poising the well and reputation of the author.

How fucking lame is that? 

How fucking ignorant is that?

I hear it all the time about others who are more well-known. “Oh they must be pedophiles because they write or create monsters like these…” Disturbing albeit. Nevertheless, horror based upon the cruel realities in this world. Still, these hypocrites say anything to bring another down so they, these spineless fucks would make them look brighter and better – It shows how lame, it shows you stunted fucking minds is what it does.

Evils

I think there are some comments made on Amazon that I allowed to leave there about some pretty ignorant fucks who gave it their best shots. There are other comments that are good and reflect an accurate opinion. There are also some negative comments that has absolutely nothing to do with the particular book or story – What the fuck?

It is what it is…

I wanted to add this material and things said to set the stage with some of my own angst to share. I also have the need to share some sage advice to those beginning their literary journey in these realms I have made mention. Do not give into the hubris and the gut-shot howling of these lesser primates. Live your dream and perfect your endeavors.


Now let me move on with the second half of this article; “The Werewolves of Deadwood.”

I wrote in some detail a few years ago while I was still a slave to the W-2 indentured to the Game. I remember it was a terribly dark and dreary night in the month of November. Walking in the mist and patches of fog dressed head to toe in black I moved through the night unseen as my mind wondered. I will admit that my imagination became ablaze with visions of supernatural monsters like vampires, phantom specters, psychotic killers, the criminally insane on the prowl, and then like a bolt of lightening electrifying my spine, werewolves!

Yes, werewolves indeed. Right then in the absolute darkness, I could almost hear the howls of such beasts. I imagine that I was one or vicariously traveling within one following the further shore of Elk Creek hidden in the forest and brush line. I could almost feel its blazing red eyes gazing upon me as I walked alone. I remember smiling from ear to ear at the thought that I may be pray. Yes, the hunted as the werewolf hidden watched me with such contempt. Finding myself smiling even more where others may be frightening themselves with their own scary thoughts I walked on thinking about the imaginary creature that wanted the end of my life and the taste of my flesh and blood in his mouth.

I did not have the time or energy to divert to some self-induced fear. No, my mind now totally in flames of creativity. As I walked on this dreary lonely road, the world of, “The Werewolves of Deadwood” began its infancy socially secretive world. You know, the beginning of the particulars, some of the main characters came into mind, and with them, their names, where they were from, what they do in human form in Deadwood. I also thought or entertained the possibility of Deadwood having its own clan or tribe of werewolves.

Moreover as my mind burned with brilliant visions and a budding storyline, the walk home concluded as I found myself on my front porch. I was already home least physically but not mentally.

How in the hell could I be?

My mind was spinning up a new darker world. Already the world of Deadwood, my Deadwood I was creating and sharing through short stories such as the Whispering Pines Sanitarium, Blackstone Rising, and others were already in print. Yes, I was then at that time tying all these persons, places, and events though totally fiction into my world. The story of these werewolves would become part of it. With these werewolf clan would be a need of history behind them, events that happened in the past, cause and effects, ant-heroes, villains, and an age-old rival, the vampire coven. Moreover, a vampire coven unlike that of the baneful romantic glowing bullshit mythology of young teen vampires. Instead, a blood-thirsty parasitical group or coven who were akin to the idea of the destruction of the werewolf clan in some Underworld sort of way. No, I wanted to add to what I have created on my own. So, the vampire coven based upon an insurgence of a biker gang that recently moved into the area in reality and with it, a level of crime not seen since the late 19th century.

The biker gang would later be all rounded up by the DEA and FBI for the manufacturing and distribution of Crystal Meth in the Lawrence, Meade, and nearby counties. Yes, this would be something that I shall use in the story line. I had it. The vampire coven would take the place of the biker gang, but not only take the place, but to kill off the biker rat-bastards themselves. No love loss, and all overnight. This would be excellent. The Vampire coven needed a name, a leader, a few of their own meth cooks with their own brand of crimson meth. These vampires would also come to the knowledge of how to keep a shifter, (werewolf) from changing from human into their animalistic powerful supernatural selves.

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Oh, the fucking gears in my mind were grinding. First, I made mention of these things in some rendition of “Morbidity News” on here, on this blog a long time ago. Some people picked up on it and actually enjoyed the piece of fiction. However, most of those that lived in Deadwood, Lawrence County, and as far as Wyoming thought of it as some sort of fabrication, fake news being passed off as real news.

Now, how fucked up and simple-minded is that?

I then needed a dumb-like character that is a werewolf. In human form, eye-candy for the women. A tall and powerful man of the usual average intelligence from the back woods of Louisiana near the Mississippi boarder swamps. A man came to mind, his description of a dark skinned brown eyed and matching hair that is shoulder-lengthen tattooed fellow that goes by the name of Connolly Pettimore. Basically a good natured and fair man attached to a ruthless bitch for a mate also from the same region who came up here after a conflict of a clan in New Mexico. I shared a bit of history of Connolly and the troubles his mate got themselves into. I think I may even shared a measure of personal regret on his part for keeping her. Though, she blames every ill-deed on him. She is nothing less than a sociopath and quick to anger. Any other emotion is nothing but a conjuring effect on her part. Now enters the drama aspect.

As I said earlier, I wrote several very short stories of, “The Werewolves of Deadwood” that appears in the Tales Series. Nevertheless, I believe that this particular story needs to be its own novel in paperback and eBook formats.

As for Connolly and his henpecking, he will end the latter abruptly. A man can only stand so much insanity from a stunted mind. This woman, sure, she is based upon a sociopath I once had the most unfortunate time then in my most miserable life. I don’t care if man or woman, you all can see faces being painted across your mind’s eyes right about now – no doubt.

So, the story, the original piece was told through a character who is the owner of the Gallows Saloon in which was an actual place here in the historical Deadwood. I was offered an opportunity to visit this place by the late owners. Fascinating this adventure was and it was, at that time, all that I could imagine and then some. Now, some ex-FBI agent turned it into a pistol shooting range and bar – Yeah a fucking bar with drunks with loaded weapons.

How fucking stupid is that?

I couldn’t have made that shit up.

Again, the story, or the history is told by a werewolf in human form that describes John Joseph “Jack” Nicholson to a fucking “T.”

Character names withheld; the story starts with the introduction of the werewolf clan and how it fits into a dark history just before and during General Armstrong Custer’s infamous 7th Calvary’s 1st and 2nd Expedition into the Indian Reservation of the Black Hills from Fort Meade, South Dakota. Fort Meade is now a Veteran’s Hospital Facility east of Sturgis in Meade County – You never know, the question could come up in Jeopardy or something and this information may be priceless to you all.  

Yeah, the historical portion, a portion in a draft format is fascinating on its own merits though will be re-done from the ground up with a good many things in a novel format. The history speaks of actual events along with the accounts with the views of the speaker. This history laced with both facts, truths, and my license of fiction will certainly blur the lines much like the pseudo-history told as actual history in today’s classes of education, the Museum of Deadwood that has about as much truth as a few grains of Fool’s Gold.

Not to get a head of myself in the least. Connolly Pettimore hears through the elders of the Deadwood clan that resides up in Roubaix, South Dakota of the current treaties they have with the neighboring vampire coven not to mention, the manufacturing of the crystal meth operations. These facts, this alliance is something that Connolly can’t even conceive since the history of Vampire and Werewolf is more of a story of master and slave. Pettimore’s personal dealings in the south with the vampire covens there has proven only one thing of certainty; vampires cannot be trusted in the least.

For Connolly, he harbors only contempt and seething hatred since both of his parents were killed by the order of some elders of a vampire coven. Again, he would be faced with another deadly alliance in New Mexico that his woman helped greatly in exacerbating the tension placing the clan there in peril. Truce was only achieved by excommunicating Pettimore and his mate from the region. Yeah, there is far more to the story or I mean, more to it when I write it.

Nevertheless, Pettimore finds the secret location of the Vampire Coven’s Elders. He manages to ditch the warnings from his own elders and enters the secret grounds hidden in the ancient Roubaix Graveyard. There he waits in hiding for mid day. Then he executes his plan. In basic, a shallow but effective plan. He is to break in and being undetected by the surveillance system short-circuited by a huge solar flare he knew nothing about. Otherwise, he would have been out-numbered and killed by his own kind protecting the Elders. A betrayal made by a pact with his own elders and kept secret. He opens all the window protection mechanisms after quietly opening the caskets. The Elders turn to dust, screaming, flames, the whole bit.

Pettimore realizing that the guardians are coming upon him, he bolts out of the den of elders and blocking the only door behind him with some sort of old railroad tie. He watches the place burn and all those that die inside. This obviously includes his own species.

With this knowledge gained and the betrayal of his own Elders he goes to back into Deadwood where those there in power have a very hard time believing Pettimore. Proof is presented as a small band of werewolves investigate and report back. The coupe ensues with the demise of the treacherous werewolf Elders. This swift and bloody action raises issues with the Custer, South Dakota and Wyoming Clans. A Blood War is immanent as sacred laws seemed broken because of the deaths of the werewolf elders. This will have to wait as the more powerful covens of North Dakota, Montana, and Minnesota along with Nebraska demands retribution of the near total destruction of the meth-making, hence, money-making coven in Lawrence County.

Free

One thing is for certain, Connolly Pettimore may be a hero to some in the region, a hero to those immediately around him but has a death bounty on his head along with those who help conceal him from a twisted form of vampire justice and then, if he survives, he may have to face the wrath of his neighboring clans.

Well that about does it here for me with this subject. It would be considered kind indeed if you would let me know of your thoughts. I know I have exposed some intriguing plots within plots and a high-powered overall synopsis.

I will also say, don’t get any fancy ideas of using any of this matter and subject as your own. Though, you may kid yourself into thinking of taking this work as your own and that would be a fucking grave mistake since all this, everything is copyright protected to include all within.

This brings me to the finality, the conclusion of this article, this post on WordPress. Unlike many other bloggers that have posted some sort of Anti-Plagiarism banner. You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. This is proprietary work owned by DarcWorX. I have seen my work on other blogs. I have seen my stories and literary material on other blogs and stories. Yet, these same dullards say my work is poorly written as to discourage me. They take the entire story and the only thing that is changed is their name pinned to it.

These egregious actions do reveal themselves and those phony fucks pay dearly and more often than not, much more than they can afford.

For all those new talented writers, authors, and such. Protect your work. Learn what is, “Fair Use,” “Public Use,” “Non-Copyright” and “Stock Images.” I recommend the following, “Adobe Photo Libraries,” “ShutterShack,” and a vast array of online catalogs of additional images you can graft into your own, make it your own like any other business online and traditional magazines do.

Please make a safe and secure contribution via PayPal and thank you.
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DeathofaGod

The Sheriff

Sheriff

Today I find myself out checking the higher trails on my usual routine as the sun was at its zenith, in which says so little in these parts. One thing is the fact that the sun sits lower and rides along the hills, just above actually. Secondly, the sky, seems to be a storm, a bad winter’s storm brewing up in the north as the low-pressure front is just coming upon us.

Listen to me, I sound like a fucking weatherman. I crack myself up sometimes at the shit I say to be quite honest. The new snow, the heavy snow anticipated is the whole reason I am out here today and making, well, a full day of it. You see, world renowned snowboarders, skiers, and the likes will be swarming down from all over the world.
Even in the spite of the time of the season means very little up here. One could always say, “It’s so damned gloomy all the time…” They’d be right in saying that while they’re constantly bellyaching about their trivial shit.

Nevertheless, this portion of the Black Hills is a very secluded, and some might say, “With trails less traveled upon.” In that would be the truth. Though, once upon a damned time, this area all around me was bustling with active gold mining, a railroad, a small town just up the side of the eastern slope here that included a brothel and a school for all the whore’s children. Mining isn’t much of a family life, was it?

It isn’t much of a life period as history would tell us. That is if you were some piss-ant working for the owners of these old mines now in utter ruin. Sure, there are a few openings but you have to know where to look and hope to god you don’t fall into some old air shaft leading a couple of thousand feet down. Most are about a couple of hundred or so into utter darkness. Regardless, it’s more than enough to fuck up your whole day if you fell into one. No one would know, no one would find you. Out of the entire history of this area, there has never been made mention of anyone that fell, and saved, or for that matter, ever recovered.

This area, yeah, it’s not for kids and idiot adults to go off this beaten path. Most of the folks, those even from out of state don’t come up here. They don’t visit the old graveyard now overgrown by the woods reclaiming the scarred land. They don’t even know about the wretched ruins of the old Miller’s Place that looks like an old castle made of crumbling stone. Shit, it’s all cordoned off and there are trees, squirrels, ravens, and whatnot that holds residence there. The state was going to restore that some time ago since the Millers were so filthy rich and powerful. They ate up and owned most of the mines eventually. I don’t really know anything more about those kinds of people or the history, which is not all too flattering according to the local historians. Still, that old place, all dilapidated and all, yeah, that’s on my rounds too. I’ll be seeing that soon enough. You see, it sits up along that ridge east of me. One will see it if you keep on walking south along the trail. Comes into view now and then. That is if it isn’t covered by the low clouds, fog, and the likes.

Regardless, no one has any business leaving the trail and heading up there to look around or explore. Never a good outcome.

Skulls

You see, the Northern Black Forest remains shrouded in heavy mist and the kind of darkness that plays upon the weaker minds out here. I mean, just the gloom in the area, and pick whatever season, it don’t matter and it just throws up one hell of an “Unwelcomed” sign to anyone with some wits about them.

Out here miles from nowhere is not for the frail of heart. In fact, you must cultivate a strong mental attitude if you’re out here. People lingering around these parts especially in the winter has one hell of a death wish. You see, they just don’t last long and if these fools are lucky enough maybe by late spring or mid-summer, their mortal remains may be found. But that’s the exception to the rule in these parts. Out here, most of the time, it’s the wildlife, the environment that gets you in the end. And trust me I know all too well.

It’s my job, it’s what I do as sheriff and all.

Do you want to hear something that will raise the small prickly hairs on the back of your goddamned neck?

Last week before all the people from out of state for all the snowboarding fiasco would be showing up, I was out here like I am now. The only thing different is I’m carrying this rifle. I didn’t need anything like this out here before. That in the past. I saw something that gives me more than enough cause to carry such a cannon. Better to be safe than sorry – better to be alive than dead, I say. That is, if you’re carrying special ammunition like I have. I won’t bore you with the details.

Back to the story of my adventure up here from last week…

I guess I was up by Murderer’s Creek along the old Iron bridge, the “Hanging Bridge” aptly named for the executions of some gold miners gone wrong along with some of the other social “Shames,” Interesting name for the despicable who found a noose around their condemned necks. You’ll find all this just south around that bend in front of us.

That bridge and most of the old events are now two full centuries ago and whatever ghost town it later becomes fell to the insurmountable grip of these woods. These very haunted woods. Just before noticing the sun dipping lower across the hills is when I saw the bloody unmistakable tracks of an adult Silverback Werewolf. The tracks left off to the right side of the bridge, breaking through the thin ice as it stomped through the shallow creek to the freshly laid maiden snow on the other side and disappearing into the tree line.

I reached down resting on my feet for a closer examination when I took into the account the size of an animal, a paranormal creature that some professor says doesn’t exist. I put the creature about three hundred plus pounds and nearly seven feet tall by its gate. I suppose some village idiot would think its Bigfoot or some Bullshit like that – I would leave it right at that. No need for anyone really discover the brutal truth otherwise. I took off my heavy glove from my right hand as the frost built up on my beard. With my index finger, I dipped it carefully into the small freezing pool of blood in the right paw print and tasted it. I found my eyes widen as the blood began telling me the story. You see, I have a secret to tell; He is not the only changing out here in these woods.

Adult

And before you go off half-cocked and say something you’ll soon regret, I for one was born this way just like a few of my kind in the region. You might say, “We’re as old as the hills.” You wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

Listen, you’ve been around my kind, my kind are your doctors, your teachers, bartenders, friends, in-laws, and the like to include police and law enforcement. Moreover, I got this problem and it’s bigger than you or I.

The blood I tasted wasn’t his at all. The blood belonged to the victim, a woman that would be found brutally raped while he was still in human form. How do I know this?

The blood never lies…

The blood doesn’t hide anything…

All is revealed through the blood…

I can see through my mind’s eye of what her blood was telling me. I saw that he began to change into his normal self-reaching into her stomach and pulling out her backbone. My ears rang with the snap of her spine. Damn, she was very much alive at the time. The Werewolf barely knew of her and under his false pretenses of being quite the charmer and lover boy. The bastard, he brought her along this otherwise beautiful winter’s day. Oh yeah, a right down gorgeous day all things considering.
Yeah, after he finished with her, sexually, and otherwise, he dumped her remains under the ice of the creek about a mile further up. The blood also shows me his identity in human form and of course, again in his more natural form.

There just isn’t any way I can cover up this hideous crime this time with the people involved. The victim is a resident and much loved in the region. I know the woman killed, her father in which is a good man, and his wife, Betty that I’ve been banging for at least a full decade now. For those of you pretending to hold the higher moral ground, you can hold that against me too. But remember, when you slip, you fall a long ways down and I hope it hurts. Judge if you must, but Betty and I are more than a thing.

Now, this awful news was going to hit the family the hardest. The community will panic as it did before, and even before that as I can remember as for the last full century clearly.

Snowboarders and the like will be flocking to this region and I can’t hide this one. No nothing like the other ones.

I rose up and reaching for my radio, I called it in. I’ll lead my deputies to a haphazard roundabout to the woman’s mangled body. When the dust settles, I’ll square things up with this new idiot stranger in town…

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