The God of the Harvest; Kaine – Chapter One

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The sun is particularly bright, the sky a brilliant blue, and the clouds just seemed a little more fluffier than normal as the young boy observes upon his cherry red metallic Schwinn Stingray five-speed bike as he sails in the May breeze. The boy is smiling uncontrollably armed with his Alienware Vindicator Backpack that has his Alienware’ s top of the line laptop within that is also brand new. Today it is his birthday as he is heading to his school of Deadwood Elementary. His light brown shoulder-length hair is flowing in the breeze as he continues peddling down Charles Street just passing the Lead-Deadwood Regional Hospital and Clinic heading wonderfully to Sherman Street.

The young lad looks up on the small mountain to his right where he can see the stark fortress-looking sanitarium. The Whispering Pines where long ago the Mt. Moriah Cemetery once stood nearly a century ago. The young boy glanced up at the facility as his smile left him thinking of the legends, myths, and heresy about the dreadful place where the United States puts its most diabolical of the criminally insane, the very worst of society in which will rot and die living in the belly of the beast. Some of these insane people will never see the light of day again. As he looks up at the high stone walls and razor wire, the young lad can clearly see the green-tinted guard towers. Those in the belly several floors below the emerald yard and concrete walkways is the condemned in which there is no escape from in the spite of the long history of this facility. Historical facts did mention of one inmate who did make it to the top and if this insane man didn’t waste time in dropping on by to see the Warden and Chief Psychiatrist, well, some say that Brandon “The Worm” Reed would have did the impossible – escape. Reed instead had to take valuable time to carve and dismember the good Warden in his office. Reed’s morbid crime would immediately be uncovered and the general alarm was sent off and as for Reed, he was literally chopped down in a blizzard of gunfire.

The boy recalls in his mind of when it was a class project to research and share with the other students findings before the class. The young boy’s topic was on the violent broken mind of none other than Brandon “The Worm” Reed. Evidently, as he suspected, most of the class would share about Scott Solomon Dean who was a demonic-driven mass murderer that obtained a world-record recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records. Scott Solomon was one of a kind as was with Brandon “The Worm” Reed and some others just lurking out of the limelight centered on the world record holder.

As for the young lad’s presentation giving out such accurate and vivid description of all the things leading up the Reed’s arrest and his talents of being an escape artist breaking out of every federal penitentiary and asylum before his re-capture. Reed made a crimson wake through New Mexico, Arkansas, Missouri, Nebraska, and Colorado. As the young lad began sharing these exploits in his graphic detail that caused the teacher to blush and rise up stopping the young man from continuing to share before his classmates in the very front of the classroom. Even in the spite of the fact he wasn’t allowed to continue reading from his well-prepared report laced with facts, sources, and pictures of some of Reed’s victims, the lad did receive an “A+” for his troubles.  

The boy  now turns his attention back to peddling and staying out of the way of traffic and the pedestrians. Today is not only just his twelfth birthday, moreover, it his is last day of his sixth-grade. Next year, the young lad will be in Middle School up in Lead just four miles away, and too far to ride his new bicycle that his mother bought.  His favorite uncle, his only uncle in fact bought him the new laptop with everything this youngster needs.

The child on his bike then glides into the Packhorse Convenient Store across the street from the Deadwood Police Station on Sherman Street. He carefully parks his bike on its kickstand and not worrying about someone stealing it, though, he does indeed carry a lock wrapped under the cream-metallic banana seat where the adjustable chrome seating post. He boldly walks in and sees an older grey haired woman behind the cash register  talking to one of the local men about her age. The boy then turns his attention to the coolers directly in front of him. He walks up hoping that his favorite energy drink is still on sale, the two-for-one special on Amplified in the 26 ounce cans. To his relief, the sale is still on that raises another smile on his freckled face as his green emerald eyes shine capturing the green glow of the bright L.E.D lights within the cooler. He goes to open the cooler and there in his reflection of the polished glass he catches someone or something standing behind him.

The child turns quickly as his high-top basketball shoes squeak on the clean floor. He gasps as he holds his breath while his right hand is firmly gripping the cooler door. He sees in an instant that there is no one there behind him, lurking over him. He sees the old grey haired cashier still speaking to the man in his bib overhauls. Seeing this and the fact no one is behind him, he turns once more to open the cooler door when a sharp pain struck him in through his forehead like a bullet that causes him to let go of the cooler door and grab his forehead with both hands and closing his eyes. The pain is intense and he almost calls for help as he is thinking that he could be dying. His young heart is now beating so hard that it seems that in any moment it will explode out of his chest.

“Scotty MacLeod, I know of your kind by the very blood coursing through your veins…” The voice is inside of his head as his sudden headache begins to subside where he felt that any moment he would lose his balance and collapse on the floor. The voice within him was more than just words, young Scotty could feel these words resonate throughout his body, and the resonation is bitterly cold.

“I know you can hear me young Scotty…” The voice from within struck again. The voice, foreign in a dialect the child could not understand. The voice sounded old or ancient Scotty thought in a terrified silence. The young lad without saying a word out loud opened the cooler and got his two large cans of Amplified.

“Brave child you are…” The voice within Scotty’s mind spoke again with a sinister and very troubling laugh mocking the young boy as he walked up in a hurry to the counter fetching his money balled up in his pocket.

“Hello Scotty and happy birthday to you.” The cashier smiled down at him. On her sagging breast was her name tag that simply read, “Coleen.”

Scotty did not smile, he is sweating now with a troubled and confused look upon his face. Still, he knew his manners, “Thank you Coleen. Thank you a lot.” He tried to smile but found it impossible at the moment.

Scotty removed his pack quickly and loaded the two cans safely inside. “Scotty, that is a very beautiful bike.” Coleen smiled looking through the large glass widows of the store.

“My mother got it for me for my birthday, and thank you again.” He smiled this time at her.

“Today is your last day at school too?”

“Yes mam, that it is.” Scotty replied as she gave him his change and his receipt before heading out to get on his bike to peddle as fast as he could away from the little store. He could feel the icy breath upon him by what seems to be for everyone else, totally invisible.

Scotty rationalizes as he carefully waits for the crosswalk light to change allowing him to safely cross over into Pine Street. He has a moment to take in what he heard within him. He comes to the conclusion that it is all his own excitement catching up to him in this very odd way or it may be some sort of ghost. After all, Deadwood is choked full of ghosts and ghost stories from its violent ancient history from back in the days of Calamity Jane and the likes of Wild Bill Hickok.

Scotty heard rumors and stories about the ancient graveyard of Mt. Moriah Cemetery where these two along with a good many other sorts and characters were laid to rest. Then of course, the history of how the Whispering Pines Sanitarium was built upon the graveyard. The official story was when it was constructed in the latter part of the twenty-first century, the historical old Mt. Moriah Cemetery was moved at relocated with all the graves re-interned at the new site to include all of the gravestones. However, the actual graves and those within them were not removed or relocated to the new spot. Scotty believed in this legend that the complex, the Whispering Pines Sanitarium is built upon the dead still there, and their troubled ghosts haunt the place.

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As scotty rode passed the Lawrence County Capital building along the wide sidewalk, he began focusing his attention to all of the festivities of his last and final day at Deadwood Elementary. Already he can see the policemen and women at the crosswalk from Pine Street over Main Street. He had to get off of his bike and walk across the crosswalk under the supervision of the police officers. To his right looking down on Main Street, in the late twentieth Century the city had a multitude of chintzy gambling machines, prostitution that survived the nineteenth century, and hotels to swindle all the people from their money. These places did not exist long after the “Crash of 2008” in which was, as he understood, the fall of the American Empire, and before the invasion of the Chinese that took well over half of the original United States. This was all before young Scotty’s time, in fact, a good full century before him and his mother.

“Hello Scotty, nice bike, buddy.” Scotty looked to the left and it is officer Bob. Officer Bob is a former weekly visitor of his mothers. Scotty didn’t like him and when officer Bob spoke to him, his words were like a whip across the youngsters back.

Fuck you, you goddamned dickweed…Young Scotty thought to himself as he said aloud, “Thank you, Officer Bob.” Scotty couldn’t get across fast enough.

The officer concluded, “Happy birthday too, Scotty. Tell your mother I said ‘hello.’

Motherfucker, suck my dick, bitch… This thought brought a smile on the youngsters face.

“Such a temper and the language. ‘dickweed’ I do not know of that word. What is of its origin?” The icy gravel voice began to laugh causing Scotty’s hearing to deaden and almost causing the child to cover his own ears.

“Oh, I am sorry about that. I can see into your mind quite deeply and can feel your emotions. You do hate this, this, this policeman. It has been a while, a long while since I have been back here to earth I’m afraid.” The voice grew quieter as Scotty’s eyes began to well up.

“I will take care of this Officer Bob for you. You shall not have to deal with him anymore. You may want to turn and look upon him on last time before he is wiped off the face of this world.” The voice warned.

Scotty didn’t want to turn. Scotty doesn’t want something bad happen to the police officer in the spite of things and before having a chance to say anything through his mind to this entity, a myriad of pictures began crossing the horizons of his mind. Scotty stopped as his eyes began to literally show a dim reflection of what he is seeing as these things began to be vividly clear.

Scotty paused standing on the sidewalk though his mind is somewhere else and as the young lad can see from these strong pictures in his mind is not his own but those of this creature. Scotty could see a strange world filled with hideous impossible to describe beasts and evils beyond his own imagination. Terrorized, Scotty could see what looks like a brilliant arching bright orb with a long tail leave this alien world’s upper green hazing atmosphere. In his mind, he could see in this orb that passes him by as if Scotty is floating in space. He covers his face as he could see an evil-looking creature that does not look like anything human but more like some sort of reptilian type that he has never seen before. Then, without warning Scotty’s mind is above the earth as he could see what looks like a comet swing by him as he could feel the blinding heat and light.

Scotty closed his eyes standing there holding his bike though thousands of miles above the earth. He is about to find out also in another time long forgotten.

In his mind’s eye he could see the comet that is actually the ship of this terrible creature enter the earth’s atmosphere. Again, the scene violently changed to where Scotty is standing firmly on the ground and off to the distance in the sky, the young child could see the comet strike down beyond the village before him. Scotty could not see passed the high wall made of some sort of clay. Then as he noticed the wall and men armed with spears and shields were looking at the brilliant comet as the shockwave like that of a small atomic bomb followed by a fireball rising up to the sky as brilliant as the sun. Though Scotty some distance away from the wall was knocked down to the ground causing him to lose his breath and the pain coming from this. Even in his physical body standing there, his stomach spasms is keeping him from breathing.

“Breath young Scotty…” The voice cut across like thunder in this vision of him lying on the sandy ground.

It took Scotty a few moments to regain his breath and he arose up from his back laying there facing the wall. He noticed that the men, these soldiers or guards missing from their post only moments ago. Scotty can see that the blast must of knocked them down off the wall but he could not see them in the sand. The wall, for Scotty to guess, about forty-feet high. Scotty could not hear enough yet due to the blast though returning enough to clearly hear the voice and some panic within the village.

“Where am I?” Scotty asked in his mind.

“The land called, Sumer, and the time is known to you earthlings as somewhere around the fifth millennium BCE. The village before you is now long gone and forgotten. This place is, or for that matter, was the first settlement that I visited as you can see. I found the Engineers’ work on creating these humans from their own DNA and that of the great apes, the Neanderthals and you may or may not know…”

Scotty turned in his vision to face the voice seemingly behind him expecting to see the specter he glimpsed at the Packhorse. Naturally, there is no one standing behind him. He turns around to face the village.

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“This area, this land of Sumer is known later by the Greeks as ‘Mesopotamia.’ A name simply meaning the lands between the Tigress and Euphrates – The golden crescent of fertile land. Egypt, Rome, Greece, and some other cultures do not exist yet. You can say, most of Europe during this time is thawing out as the people there are basically still swinging from tree to tree…” The entity laughed briefly about his evaluation of the Europeans.

“Is this the first place for us humans?” The child asked as he looked up at the fireball fading.

“From Sumer? No, the Sumerians’ ancestors came from the north from the regions of south eastern Turkey. This place I would later come to visit and feed called, “Göbekli Tepe” created around the tenth millennium BCE as your kind knows of time. Though, I was not there when it and those sites around it – Some yet to be discovered by the way, is just a bleak foothold of the beginnings of civilization as you know of it…” The voice sighed heavily and spoke once more.

“Now that is enough, more than enough for now. It is time for you to embrace your learning…”

The voice faded away as Scotty’s mind swimming in these powerful visions back safely to the present. Scotty looked around as his eyes cleared and noticed that the time he was away trapped in these visions, only a couple of minutes actually passed. Realizing the fact that he was gone far longer to witness these things, these things that the creature showed of himself and the world at the time he entered it. Scotty rationalizes, This shit cannot be from my own imagination and of my own subconscious. I have never heard of these places and those things I have just seen. I cannot be going crazy as fuck, can I?

While Scotty walked and contemplated these things shaking like a leaf, Scotty is joined by his friends as they all wished him a happy birthday and salutations. They marveled over his bike as he locked it up at the bike rack and testing the lock. Scotty thanked these various classmates of his. Scotty is not only popular amongst his fellow classmates, nevertheless, he is the smartest kid in school, and his S.A.T. scores proves it. His teachers to include Scotty’s family consisting of his mother, her brother in which is Scotty’s uncle, and his grandmother. Scotty never knew of his father first-hand. His mother tried to paint a respectable picture of his father to include a name, occupation, and his death. However, the stories of his father is that of a work of fiction made up by his mother. Scotty’s grandmother, a bitter woman has a story in sharp contrast of his father and the fact that, “The deadbeat died in a shoot-out over a heroin deal that went south. Yeah, only after he knocked your mother up first…” His grandmother’s words are seared into his brain forever. As for his uncle, his uncle painted more of a balanced picture between the two stories. “Yeah, your father, the sperm-donor and not much more did in fact die in a drug deal like grandma says. I don’t know really anything about him other than the fact that for whatever reason, you’re mother got hooked up with him. You know your mom had a drug problem that almost cost her, her own life, right?” His uncle would go on to say, “I guess, your mother owed him, your dad, some money, a drug debt, and she used her body to pay it off. She did that a lot so I have heard. That is how you have become. I am sorry about this, Scotty. I beleive you are old enough to hear the truth…” Scotty was about nine-years old when his uncle sat down on the wooden steps of his deck at the trailer park in Puma.

Scotty’s mother, well, Scotty knew that she recovered from being a junkie and all those things that can be associated with it, to include those stories that grandma brings up unsolicited every so often. Scotty only knows that his mother loves him deeply and takes good care of him. In fact, she is a single parent holds down two part-time jobs to help make ends meet. The both of them live in the same trailer park as his uncle. His uncle is close by, close enough to keep a good eye on Scotty and his mother both.

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Everyone to include his grandma is hoping for the best for young Scotty. They hope that he will be the first to go to college and as for Scotty, he is smart enough, in fact, a mental attitude that is several years a head of him. He already knows that the only way we could go into college is on some kind of scholarship. Scotty finds himself worrying over these sorts of things when most kids do not or should not. Still, he frets.

The bell rings outside in the playground and he walks into the building. As he is doing so, he is alone when that sinister voice comes back within him.

“Young Scotty, I can read your thoughts. You’re mother’s a whore according to your grandmother. Your grandmother is the one that was a whore all along. An old whore turning tricks.” Just then Scotty saw mental images of his grandmother performing vivid sexual acts and getting paid for it.

Scotty rubbed his eyes and whispered, “Get out of my head, devil.”

“Devil? I have been called many things, as to this ‘devil’ is one I have not heard. What is the meaning of that word young Scotty – Do tell?”

“You’re evil” Scotty said aloud as a playground monitor was walking up behind him.

“Scotty, who are you calling evil?” The tall old woman asked. It is none other than the notorious playground gestapo, Miss Slaughter who is rumored to be one of the last vestiges from the Third Reich. Just caught in her shadow would put a sudden freeze upon your shoulders as the small hairs on the back of your neck would raise. Of course, by then, it was too late. 

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud, I guess.” Scotty then turned back facing the entrance of the school. This is all he needed was drawing attention from Miss Slaughter and her Nazi Interrogation processes rumored by some troublemakers on the school grounds. It is also rumored that Miss Slaughter is formerly retired from the Whispering Pines Sanitarium that loomed over the entire town. Nevertheless, a daunting scene only amplified by the presence of Miss Slaughter who stood well over six-foot tall and in her late sixties.

“Scotty, what is wrong? Are you afraid to tell Miss Slaughter that you have me inside your head?” Scotty’s young body began to drop in temperature. The young lad could see his own breath inside the hallway of his warm school.

“Miss Slaughter, a German descendant like so many among this region. Alas, this is why I am here…” The voice faded.

“Happy birthday, Scotty.” Miss Slaughter said walking in behind him into the school building.

You’re here for Miss Slaughter?” Scotty oddly felt somewhat relieved.

“No. However back in her day she had quite the passion of seducing young men in the above-ground facility of that Sanitarium where she worked as a nurse while supplementing her income by performing sexual acts upon those crazy young men…”

The voice opened up Scotty’s mind enough to graciously show him a few vivid moving images of Miss Slaughter in what seemed a couple of decades ago. The vision of her performing fellatio to a couple of patients being orally gratified. The evil voice then presented as vivid as before with additional motion images of Miss Slaughter in the Staff Men’s Room performing various gratuitous acts of various sexual escapades.

“Almost makes you want to seek employment up at the Pines, doesn’t it?” The voice now saturated with sarcasm.

I don’t need to see this bullshit and you’re fucking making it up!” Scotty defiantly tortes.

“Not at all, these images are directly coming from her mind. Yes, I can see all your thoughts no matter who you are. As for the former whore, Miss Slaughter, she does not know I am in her head at all…”

Scotty could not even turn back to face Miss Slaughter after seeing nothing less than these highly provocative and compromising sexual vexatious acts now forever seared into young Scotty’s mind. This ranks right up there on the top of Scotty’s list of, “Things I truly Do Not Need To Know.”

Scotty slightly turns his head over his right shoulder, “Thank you, Miss Slaughter.”

You’re evil and perverted…”

“Scotty, you’re right about me being evil and if the word ‘devil’ means this, then, I guess, I am the ‘devil’ as you say. Though, I do feel especially evil right now – “ The voice within Scotty was interrupted abruptly by his own inner voice.

You’re not real. You’re only a voice inside of me. You are some twisted hallucination I am having. It could be the breakfast I had, bad eggs, or bad bacon, or a whole host of things.” Scotty warned in his thoughts to this source of this voice.

Scotty forced to usurp control of his own thoughts to retaliate to the voice so that Miss Slaughter would not hear and think the young boy is going completely out of his mind.

“Oh, your mind is now stronger. This is good though, it shall not prevail over my control, dear Scotty. If it makes you feel any better into fooling yourself that I am not real and only a figment of your imagination then by all means, keep telling yourself that…” The laughter came back mocking the troubled child.

“Now to prove that I am real and you will see my face once again, and oh yes, I was standing behind you by the way in the store though no one else caught a glimpse of me other than you. This fact alone made you worthy in my eyes to do my bidding…” The color began running out of Scotty as if an avalanche of insurmountable dread came down upon his weaken state.

“I am going to show you how real I am. I am going to blow up the Packhorse and well, in the matter of my evilness today, the entire block, and perhaps more.” The dread is literally beginning to crush the young boy making it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

Scotty turns around sharply and notices that Miss Slaughter has entered the faculty break room as the door slowly closes behind her.

No, don’t do it! Don’t kill or blow up anyone! Fuck it man, I’ believe you’re real then. Just don’t do it!” Scotty exasperated. Yet, there is no answer from this foreign voice.

For Scotty, it seems like time is dragging on as he walks into his class where the first subject, his favorite, mathematics will begin after home room. Needless to say, Scotty feels like the entire world is on his shoulders as his body is ridden with anxiety. His stress peaks as he continues to become even more peeked. His teacher, Miss Pinkie just got out of college, young, vibrant blonde that turned heads, and also been seen with the science teacher, Dr. Jay Hamilton. Besides, nothing goes unnoticed in this town since people don’t know how to mind their own business. Deadwood is no exception of the small town mentality.

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Again for Scotty, time seemed to drag on as he entered the classroom only to find out he still had a few seconds left before the tardy bell rang. He quickly took his seat after carefully sitting his Alienware Backpack down next to his chair as all the students turned to face him. In unison, all cheerfully shouted, “Happy Birthday, Scotty!”

Scotty embarrassed as his face reddened and pretended to give an earnest smile under the turbulent sea of anxiety, “Thanks everyone.” He returned making eye contact with only a couple of his fellow students.

“Good you made it in here. Now since you are on the other side of the building, this shouldn’t effect you too much…” The voice within warned.

Please, you don’t have to do this. Please no…” Scotty tries to reason with the sinister voice. There is no answer as Miss Pinkie bends over to pick up the scripto marker for the large whiteboard. Her heart-shaped sculptured ass bled through ever so slightly under her sheer lime-green slacks.

Damn…” Scotty thought to himself.

“Damn indeed…” The voice within the young boy concurred.

“Oh, there is one in your class called, “Donna?” The sinister voice is especially cold and calculating.

Why, why do you want to know that?”  Scotty could feel the presences of this creature leave him ever so slightly as if it were like an invisible fog over the back of the classroom drifting in the slightest as it sought out the young brunette twelve-year-old girl in a single pony tail. Scotty could not look at her, he felt in doing so would give her away to the lingering wisp of fog that outstretched like a wicked hand as its own index finger gently tapped the top of her head. Scotty could see it is all too late. The creature in this dreadful and egregious act found her out.

Not to worry young Scotty. I can find those that belong to me on my own without any assistance of your mind. Though, I do find your interesting. Now forgive me while I embrace her mind…”

Terrified as his eyes reflected the horror began to engulf him as he could see Donna’s steel blue eyes roll up to the top of her head as her body stiffened. More of this evil energy is leaving Scotty as his eyes welled up for the sake of Donna which he has known since his first year of school. To his continued horror, the being mostly with Donna now making her rise up in from her desk and walk right out of the classroom in its control without the teacher or the other students even noticing as if she is just as invisible as the one controlling her.

God, leave her alone!” Scotty attempts to plead again.

“God is right. Now you shall mind your own and this little one belongs to me. Her soul, spirit, and her body belongs to me, not you, not anyone or anything else. Now, enjoy the show as it begins to unfold…” The voice fades away from Scotty’s mind as Donna under the wicked spell walks down the hallway turning the corner on her left. The mental contact is gone, Scotty cannot see any longer in his mind’s eye as to what will happen to Donna’s own fate.

Scotty’s young heart is about to explode as he bursts out aloud freezing the teacher dead in her tracks, “Miss Pinkie something very bad is about to happen to Donna!” Scotty rises up suddenly.

Shocked in his outburst as the students all turn to look as oddly at him as the teacher is right now. “Scotty, whatever you mean?” she says sternly.

“Something bad is controlling her. It means to do her harm!” He turns to point at her vacant desk, “You see, she’s fucking gone!” he blurts out as the oxygen leaves the room through the monumental chorus of gasps fills the gaping stunning mouths of everyone to include his teacher in the classroom.

“Scotty Andrew MacLeod!” The teacher exasperated as some of the students began to giggle at his outburst.

“She just left and none of you seen her go!” Scotty yelps as the teacher puts both her hands firmly on her hips.

“No one has seen Donna because she did not come in this morning. Her parents called in and said she is ill!” She allowed young Scotty to attempt to process this new information in.

“I saw what I saw, and I know that something god-awful is going to happen to her!”

“Okay, that is more than enough out of you young man. To the Principal’s Office you go now and take your stuff. Shame on you!” Scotty is beyond confused. He does as he is told as his mind and that of the reality around him just went completely sideways as he leaves under a cloud of laughter.

For Scotty, this is not the first time he has visited Donald Perry, the Principal of this school. With any luck since this is the last day, it will be the last time he shall see Principal Perry – So he hopes.

He begins his long walk down the hall in the opposite direction as Donna went. “Donna was here, she was, and you fucking got her you evil son of a bitch!” Like before, only a deadening silence.

“Could it be just my mind? Could I be hallucinating this whole thing? Could this be nothing more than a nightmare and I am still asleep at home? Goddamnit, I need to wake the fuck up!” He closes his eyes tightly and stops only to give a moment that he hopes all this is just a dream.

He slowly opens his eyes and he sees that he is still standing in the hallway free of windows. His heavy sigh comes forth as he begins to continue the long dreadful walk to the Principal’s Office.

As he walks just up to the door on his right labeled in red letters is, “Faculty Breakroom” as he stops to listen to the cackling on the other side. He hears the school janitor a man known as Raul Gonzalez who is in his last year of retiring below out, “Then I caught the little son of a bitch lifting a pack of cigarettes right from his teacher’s purse before she got back into her classroom!” Those inside the breakroom all began to laugh aloud. Scotty remembers this story being told, he remembers the event that happened two years ago. Scotty remembers the kid in question, a kid deaf in both ears that talked funny because of this fact by the name of Walter Love.

Walter Love’s picture is in the School’s Dictionary right next to the name and definition of, “Rebel.” There is none that even comes close to the legendary antics of Walter Love. Since the First-Grade, Walter was then the Plight Upon All Humanity according to the school’s faculty. The memory of Walter Love and some of his antics came to mind causing Scotty to quickly flash a genuine smile. Walter Love is nothing less than a god of deviant mayhem and malevolent rebellion that rivals the Fall of Satan.

As to Walter Love, he eventually gotten worse and his mother planned to have him committed to some child-like asylum in Rapid City. Unfortunately, Walter had found out about his mother’s plans and torched the entire trailer park in Puma killing some fifty people before he publicly set himself on fire only after splashing several quarts of gasoline on his body. Rumors were all abound in saying that eyewitnesses saw and heard him also claim that someone or something was in his head telling him what to do to get everyone back in this hideous act of revenge. Then Walter Love under a cloud of screams, pandemonium, and the sirens approaching then turned the lighter on himself. The home-made video catching his final acts went viral on the net. To this very day if anyone wanted to view this horrible video of a troubled youngster can see it. As for the young lad, his smile vanished quickly in his recall of that terrible event.

Scotty then began to step away from the breakroom door and continue pressing on as the florescent lighting above him began to flash as the sudden shockwave rocked the school building sending Scotty to the floor causing him to strike his head upon the unforgiving tile floor. Outside of the school is a fireball that some would later claim could be seen as far as Meade County and the hamlet of Saint Onge. Those in Spearfish would also lay claim of seeing this huge fireball high up into the air. Some initially thought it was a nuclear weapon of sorts. In the investigation that would start within a couple of days by Homeland Security would conclude that the massive explosion is not a nuclear weapon that killed nearly five-hundred people vaporized instantly and about another seventy-four that would succumb to various wounds from the devastation’s aftermath.

One thing is for certain according to the official press release is that the explosion was not a nuclear weapon detonated by the Chinese who conquered half of the original western and central region of the former United States or of some violent act of an American Extremist Jihadist. The blast  was so intense that it broke most every window in the Deadwood area that wasn’t destroyed directly from the blast was completely knocked out. People up above at the Whispering Pines reported the blast rocked the facility but no one was hurt.

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Homeland Security would bring more assets into the epicenter of the blast to determine what kind of explosive was used, who manufactured it, and how it got here in the first place. They would find out quickly that all investigative means and technology would show no evidence of residue of any kind to include any foreign debris even from some sort of kinetic device made of some exotic metal. Unexplained, unresolved, and what very little that Homeland knew, they were not sharing to the public. This fueled even more speculation by the locals’ tongue-waggling.

Meanwhile, Scotty is in the Deadwood – Lead Regional Hospital fighting for his life in ICU. As the powerful explosion engulfed the school, the roof above him collapsed. It would take the First Responders and volunteers from the region some two additional days after being cleared by Homeland to rescue and or recover anyone that may yet to be alive. Scotty was found two days later thanks to a German Sheppard trained by FEMA that found the little boy yet alive. The dog and its fellow worker would offer a glimmer of new hope that some others, children, and loved ones might be alive as well.

As Scotty’s uncle and his mother both wept in bitter tears hoping against all hope holding on to little Scotty lying motionless in his bed under what doctors are calling a “Grave Condition” and lowly commenting that young Scotty is not expected to make it from his injuries and being exposed the the elements.

Along with Scotty from the Deadwood Elementary School, most of the bodies recovered was his former teacher, Miss Pinkie, his entire classmates, and all those with the exception of Miss Slaughter in the Faculty Breakroom were among the dead. As for those surviving is indeed Miss Slaughter also in ICU but in “Critical Condition” as well as Dr. Jay Hamilton, and several others who are fellow students. There were other buildings along Upper Main Street where FEMA found people clinging onto  life by a most frail thread.

The blast left a forty-foot crater deep into the ground where once the Packhorse stood. The crater is sixty-five feet in diameter as some would speculate that this may have been caused by a meteor or some other space natural-like event. Of course, FEMA, and Homeland denied any of this along with other rumors. One thing is also for certain amongst those on the fringes of society speculate that this explosion may have been the cause of something that went off the rails with some sort of top-secret government experiment or an alien-reversed-engineered weapons malfunction. This is the most popular conspiracy theory on the subject.

As time would continue, the speculations, the stories, the secretive actions and the withholding of developing information of Homeland Security only bolstered the minds of the conspiracy theorists nation-wide and causing doubt even among those still clinging on faith that the United States Government doesn’t lie to its public.

While Scotty MacLeod’s body was on the cusp of this life and the life waiting for him on the other side, his mind nearly dead contains a small ember deep within. This burning ember is by all means, is indeed keeping him lingering in this world. In this ember is nothing less than his lifeforce – energy that is gathered and prepared to leave his body behind.

To Be Continued…

Please leave a comment of your thoughts of this story so far. Any input is appreciated.

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Real Horrors In The World…

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First things, first. You can click on any image to see the full size and download on this blog of mine…

Okay, so let me start in saying that, “Reality is stranger than fiction.” This axiom has never been truer. Some of my older friends here in the Deadwood region who has been around for about a full century in the literal sense tells me how fucked up the American country and its government has become. Some like to blame the “Baby Boomers” and to some great extent I agree with the former generation to say nothing of understanding where these older folks are coming from. In American History in which I hold a Bachelors Degree in that it is my humble opinion that the United States hit its zenith in August 20, 1955. My opinion is based upon several key points such as public works, social morality, public education, political ethics in local, state, and government levels to include the Legislative, the Administrative, and the Judicial Branches of “Checks and Balances.” Now, historians like Oliver Stone, Avram Noam Chomsky, and quite a few others speak about these kinds of evils all the time. Some may argue that Mr. Stone may not be a historian; naturally I beg to differ. Both gentlemen have no axes to grin or some hidden agenda other than telling and exposing the truth about things. I will concede in saying that these two gentlemen listed is just a couple from a sea of too many others to simply mention in this post. I will also concede in saying that most everyone in America would not even begin to read or learn upon their own to find the truth if their goddamned lives depended upon it.

The reason that I am writing this post is because I have, for me, a huge following that live outside the confines of the United States where these wonderful people see America through the lenses of this empire in a perspective that is uncanny in contrast and in opposition to the majority of the United States populace under the Fluoride Coma and the bewitching bullshit of the corporate media. Yes, America with over 800 bases world-wide is indeed nothing less than an empire and many first-hand see what the US Tyrant does best. Since my mark on the American Timeline of the height of the Republic assuming the role of “Empire” given over by Winston Churchill at the end of World War II without so much as a whimper we can see the rise and fall of our very own International Empire. Empires since the Roman Empire and excluding the Roman Republic before it lasts right around some two-hundred and fifty years. Now take into consideration of the British Empire, the French Empire, and some others. America is without exception. So, in my humble opinion, China will take over the world dominance as the new empire when America continues to implode upon itself.

See, “The Four Horsemen” documentary.

See, “Death By China” documentary.

You do realize that the United States is not first anymore in most anything for humanity and the sake of its progeny. Then again, America is number one with the following:

1. International Weapons Dealer.

2. Terrorist and Tyrant Regime Changes. Yes, we install monsters as heads of state to continued cruelty and a plight upon humanity. Think Chile, Panama, Iraq, Iran, Nicaragua, Columbia, Libya, and so many others.

3. Drone War Criminal – Warfare with the highest collateral damage of all-time!

4. Drug Dealers – Crack In America (See the CIA).

5. Creating Proxy Wars and funding them by any means necessary.

However, the world audience is beyond tired of the criminals of the United States Government and the manufacturing of world terrorism. The United States as in the Government is guilty of breaking any laws, regulations, treaties, and negotiations set forth by the United Nations as America sees fit. “America First!” says the orangutan in the Oval Office. “Let’s Make America Great Again…” He says that good bullshit too. Listen, ask any First Nation People about the American Government casually breaking any treaty with them throughout history.

Look, I am not a Republican or Democrat. There is only one party and that is the Corporate Party – Plain and simple – I’ll have no part of it. 

Lately, Trump has selected the war criminal, Gina Haspel. Again, you’re entitled to your personal opinions. Moreover, Gina Haspel has some serious negative notes of red in her career ledger within the CIA since her start as a torturer. If we look at the Nuremburg Trials that govern the entire tribunals then you can clearly understand painfully if you must. The Nuremburg Tribunal is where I solely base my opinion and clarity upon this subject. Gina Haspel is indeed an acting war criminal and anyone saying anything different is goddamned delusional – Read the fucking information provided please!

Also, since I am at it like a runaway freight rain on the subject, well, a few presidential administration from Eisenhower to the present would be doing the “Yardarm Jig.”

Ever been smacked in the chops by a runaway freight train of truth and facts?

Really, I smile when I think of Tricky Dick Nixon who should be in consideration of becoming a saint in the Catholic Church. Yes, I am serious, he should be a saint. Call him the, “Patron Saint of all the Wayward Politicians.”

You have my damned nonpartisan vote!

Most of my fellow Americans don’t know or don’t want to know the real history of America and for that matter, the rest of the world to be included. Instead, they rather feel fat and content in what they were programmed  in public education and most collages not to mention, television. Some are awake, this is certain, and you are reading one such person. When I attended collage, the first thing I was told by historical rebel was to forget everything I was ever told about American History by the Public Education System. Some of the students in the class could not detox from the brainwashing bullshit and dropped out. The professor brought forth the lies, the myths, and the speculations that were called facts and bashed these things over their heads as if they were baby seals. He exposed the criminals conspirators in public and private education for the bastardization and raping of the truth to their own adulterous needs of playing god by the brainwashing the next generations of Americans – A job well played by the way. Easy enough to do when you have all your bases covered.

The traditional and popular narrative taught to everyone in public and private schools in America is diluted with half-truths, full-blown lies, and omissions of facts and events. Yes, the Carnegies, the Rockefellers, the DuPonts, the Henry Ford Foundation(s), and other nefarious psychopaths who had more money than God that had nothing but bitter contempt for the lowlifes such as YOU and I. You can easily check out any of these institutions on the web for yourself. I have provided so far, my sources within the links in this post.

If you will not check the links for yourself, please, don’t even think of commenting against what I am saying without doing so first. Thanks.

Moving on…

Today I received some direct messages on Twitter from various people living outside the United States stating that they will no longer be following me on that medium for the single reason that they have given is that I am an American. You see, just because I am an American with all the violence and crimes against humanity conducted by the US Government, that people outside these United States, the international community is lashing out, and becoming overwhelmed with the US Terrorist Actions. Yes, we are on the perfect path to World War III. With friends like Israel and the Zionists controlling the United States who in the hell needs enemies?

It’s just a matter of “when” rather than “if.”

Hence, this very reason for the post!

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While I am on a rampage with all the United States Bullshit going on world-wide we do know that I went ten-for-ten on actually conspiracies last year for 2017. I am not a “theorist” rather than someone who has the investigative talents to go beyond the fake news. Fake news works on both extremes of the MK-Ultra and American Propaganda. Yes, MK-Ultra is still as active as it ever was. Watch television much?

A friend from overseas lives in a nation who is deeply entrenched in nothing less than a Lieutenant in America’s Allies (in which we are losing on a daily basis as of late) like England, France, and Germany. Already we have lost the Philippines and Turkey. I want to stress that Germany has in the last thirty days pulled out any and all their resources from the Syria Scene littered with genocidal tendencies and a shit-load of False Flag staged events. Speaking about False Flags as far as America is concerned, we have had our share since the Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II, the Vietnam War, the Gulf War I, and the Gulf War II – this includes Afghanistan. The CIA has been very busy as of late through the Obama Administration with the factions in the Pentagon to create and supply weapons to ISIS. Yeah, I cannot leave Trump out. Trump is nothing less than a continuation of everything against humanity and the US. Trump is continuing on where Obama has left off. On Trump’s watch so far, his watch is beyond absurd in what he is doing for world peace. Oh yes, you read that right about Obama! Now here is a good start by watching this news brief. Naturally, I back up my stuff with all kinds of links and information that you will not get in England, France, Germany, and especially blacked out within the United States. I would like to make mention for those who are critically ill with Cognitive Dissonance Disorder will also find it hard to believe that Hillary Clinton was indeed a part of building ISIS as well. Wow, how about that? The last link in this paragraph comes from the corporate news called Fox News – Even a fucking blind pig can find an acorn every so often.

Speaking about some up and coming False Flags, Israel with Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu is busy these days with presenting false evidence of Iran’s imaginary Nuclear Weapons Plants with of course, weapons of mass destruction. You all have to remember that bullshit slogan? Yeah, some good bullshit right there. The term, the slogan, the sentence, and whatever you want to call this deception seems to bewitch the sheeple here in America several times over again. Israel has done this shit before!

It is also in my opinion that the stratagem of, “Weapons of Mass Destruction”  will continue to hoodwink the opiate and fluoride induced general public in America with the solid, “Weapons of Mass Deception.”

Don’t even get me started with the “9/11” False Flag and the Dancing Jews. Oh, and for extra credit, Saudi Arabia, the Head-Choppers were in on it too. 9/11 is just like 7/11 – An inside Job!

Now for those who want to be living in the “American Dream” also known as, “The Matrix” as well as the, “America Fluoride Drenched Coma” are all part of this damned problem. Yes, the United States Constitution is dead. Just check out all the media black-outs, information removed from YouTube, Facebook and other social media, and of course, those in control of the American Media. Look into the war crimes alone being conducted daily by these United States. People who speak out against these atrocities are being silenced by acts of being suicided all the time. Just talk with the Clinton Cabal and their long trail of dropping bodies and you’ll see what I mean. Yeah, don’t get me started on Bill Clinton, a serial rapist and pedophile. Here is another documentary too.

Listen, as far as the American Media also known as Corporate Media is a business and the owners, managers, and those in control of what is put out on television are to make money. If they, the US Media shows stuff on how ugly the Government truly is and in this would cause sponsors to leave in droves like rats on a fucking sinking ship. Corporations cannot stay in business without profits. In this hardcore fact, we as the American Public can and shall fight back with our wallets.

I can literally go on for weeks on this subject(s) here. I feel that I have provided enough to shock, inflame, and attack the ignorance of the public. I also provided more than enough information to encourage those of like-minded.

Before closing this post, I would like to make mention that the American Public is not the United States Government. The United States Government is the Nemesis of the United States Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Declaration of Independence. The United States Government is evil by any definition and this must be realized by and for the American Public who are enslaved by the real tyrannical powers that control everything in the world from the top of the pyramid of supreme power which is the banks!

See, “Ethos” about Fractured Banking and the Federal Reserve Bank.

The United States Government as far as the public opinions of the world is that of a vicious bully and tyrant responsible for hundreds of millions of deaths in modern US history alone.

Thanks for reading!

Douglas S. Taylor

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copyright


May – June 2018

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I would like to thank everyone who offered their feedback and accolades on my latest story, “It Has Been Awhile…” I had a lot of fun writing this off the cuff. The story developed right before my eyes as I can barely keep up typing in a fevered pitch in the attempts of keeping up. Some of you folks knows exactly what I am talking about.

If you personally have not have the chance to read the adult-orientated story of horror, you might not want to miss it!

Now, I would like to thank all the hundreds of new subscribers joining DarcWorX in which is synonymous with me. Yes, I, Douglas S. Taylor is DarcWorX and I, DarcWorX.  Looking at my personal biography I will have to add or update my own picture. I have lost so much weight it isn’t funny. It’s all good.

I will like to tell one and all that there is so much information I have written and or shared amongst these treacherous passages. Just use the search facilities on the right side column for further investigating my endeavors. Now, I have been on Twitter for over six years and a month according to them. People do come and go on that platform. Some people get it, others don’t, and in this, it’s all good. I killed Facebook some time ago. I have gave it a few chances and it just isn’t for me with all the fakery, delusional personas, narcissism, and shallow-minded ass-clowns. You know, I tried to make a wall or a page just for my friends that I have known for a long time. Some of these people are indeed my friends in the local area as well as others for many years – Still, fuck Facebook!

For about eight to ten years I have been on WordPress which is a wonderfully pleasant way of blogging and sharing my free work right here. I may not be a well-known independent published author, graphics designer, publisher, and an extraordinary strange creature, nevertheless, I am international just the same. A few people from all over the world follow me on bated breath. Some have asked if I would start a YouTube Channel or something. I have no plans of starting one as I follow many who for nefarious reasons by the YouTube Staffers have removed because of political and truth against the common narrative. You know, stuff as in information that causes the masses to wake the fuck up, and shit like that.

The American Public has lost so many freedoms and for what it’s worth, the US Constitution is dead. As a active user of VPNs and Onion Routing, I can see that the average American Public is denied an entire ocean of information to include real news, music, movies, shows, and all kinds of super cool things that your beloved government is banning. Even NetFlix has so many cool movies, series’, and shows that you cannot get with an American IP Address. Hey, I’m and just stating facts. If you’re in America and like cruising the Internet, I must insist that you get a VPN. It’s easy, safe, and most of all, the government cannot track you. I realize that most people are not doing anything illegal and don’t think about their security. However, the goddamned government doesn’t deserve to know what you are doing anyways – period!

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Well, I guess I am saying; the truth is out there if you look for it. No matter what truth you may be looking for, I am certain you shall come across it. I will also warn you good folks that the truth when you find it may hurt and sting like a motherfucker too!

Yes, I swear a lot. Get over it. I did mention for many years that I am a big proponent of adult content and the like. After nearly a decade of being on here I still get asinine comments from the “Bible Belt” along the southern regions of the United States – The very same region that preaches against such things as homosexuality though many “Christians” there are whatever to include sexual preferences of all ready mentioned and to include bestiality, sodomy, incest, and illegal pornography. It seems if you find some nut job on the pulpit preaching against something, they’re actually doing or practicing these very things. Shit, you read it all the time in the news. They do things that make Thomas Granger green with envy!

Yeah, naturally, I don’t have any reservations about homosexuality. You see, I am not homophobic but banging barnyard animals? I think you may have a real problem – Seek help!

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As many of you may know, I live and thrive in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Now, most of South Dakota are the flatlands consisting of prairies, fairies, and those real animal lovers as I mentioned. Actually, there might be a few, and joking, kind of, sort of, about the rest. In the Black Hills, well, we think of ourselves as not South Dakotan Prairie flat-landers no more than we think of ourselves as people from the desolation of Wyoming. The Black Hills is a region about the size of Switzerland without the fascist banks, watchmakers, chocolate makers, and goat fuckers. Yes, I am having fun again…

Speaking about fascist bankers, the world is full of them. I suggest that you do your part of killing off these parasites and join a credit union or something.

Hey, listen, thanks for reading and dropping by. If you have something to say, leave it in the comment section.

Thanks!

Douglas S. Taylor

DarcWorX International Graphics and Art Designs

It Has Been A While…

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A young woman fresh out of collage fastens up her undergarments and looks into the mirror in the Men’s Room for any signs of cocaine residue on her pretty face as the one behind her helps her get dressed, a skinny male twice her age that just did a few lines of the drug and bending her over the toilet in one of the stalls just moments ago.

She smiles back at him while she touches up her lipstick, the very same shade that is smeared slightly on his still erect penis. After all, his Viagra is still flowing through his racing heart fueled by the cocaine and exercise in the stall.

“Do you think that anyone heard us?” She smiled as she put on her her blouse and skirt still looking at themselves in the mirror.

“It doesn’t matter. If they want to keep their fucking jobs, they’ll keep their goddamned mouths shut.”  He smiled back combing his comb-over of his greasy peppered hair. “I just wish my ole’ lady’s pussy was half as tight as yours.” He smiled once more as she put on her skirt.

“Thanks babe. If anyone does say anything to you, you will let me know?” She smiled once more in the mirror and walked out of the Men’s Room only after just opening the door enough to make sure the small hallway between the Men’s and Women’s room was clear of any witnesses before she heads out to the main door of both the facilities intro an office. There she could see large windows and below them, the vast cubical. The large windows shown a blue sky almost free of chemical trails and the New York City Skyline.

If anyone realized what might have happened, they didn’t seem to care in the least. A few gophers from these cubicles have far better things to do and gossip about. An older woman walks passed her without so much as a glance. Under the influence of her cocaine and mid-morning sexcapades with her boss that is like clockwork on every Wednesday for about an hour between 10:00 AM up around to 11:00 AM. She realizes that she may be standing too long and moves off in her paranoia. This is not her floor. Her office is three floors down.

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Walking along in her fashionable dark navy blue business suite and white blouse she makes it out of the large office area into another hallway leading to the door on the right marked, “Stairs.” She walks passed this door as she almost hears a cold whisper, “Don’t take the elevator.” She stops halfway in her quick New York pace on the short maroon carpet. “What? Who are you and what did you just say?” She looks around quickly to see if their is anyone there. There she finds no one and no more was said.

She then continues to turn into a larger hallway with a waiting room, chairs, small tables, and a desk where the silhouette of the woman that just passed her moments ago was now sitting under a high decorative style window where the sun was beaming in causing the younger woman to not see clearly enough. There in this end of the larger hallway, the younger woman could see several younger and more beautiful women waiting to be interviewed. Her mind flashes back no more than two years earlier when she was sitting their texting on her phone waiting to be seen next for an opportunity to work here. She glanced at them closely and thought as she pushed a button on the elevator, maybe they’re the newer models to come in and replace me as the new Office Pumps…

The elevator opens with a bell-like signal and the doors opening as the young woman walked in noticing the younger ladies were far too busy texting to even look up at her. She turns and walks in as the doors closed as she felt the air within the elevator begin to get cold.

In her pride and arrogance with the sudden pre-occupation of being replaced as the Office Pump she realizes that she is not alone in the elevator. Of course, there are security cameras, open microphones, and even an emergency phone. The dark figure startles her as she begins to realize once more about the warning moments before.

The young lady becomes terrified as she realizes the phantom shadowy figure takes shape into a powerful-looking man-like entity. “Scream if you must I can assure you that no one will hear you.” His voice deeply mysterious giving cause to her petite body shaking.

“Who the fuck are you and if this is a joke then go fuck yourself!” She yells at the cloaked and hooded man. She cannot see his face, only his powerful chest and some sort of black leather and silver buckled fasteners on his inner clothing. She can then smell the odd odor of sulfur and something else that caused her slender nose to wrinkle up as her right slender trembling hand tries to cover the smell.

The phantom figure takes notice, “I am indeed sorry about the odor that surrounds me. It has been a long day for me already and yet it is not even noon. Again, I apologize. The sulfur scent will go away quickly, but as for the iron, the iron in the blood you smell, well, that’s like my calling card, that and the scent of old death, I’m afraid. Once more, my apologies.”

As he spoke, the elevator began to slow down as she turned in her controlled fear up to one of the security cameras and yelled, “Are you seeing this? Are you bastards seeing this?” She points with her left arm outstretched to the figure.

“Hey assholes, are you even watching?” Her voice raises and greeted by only silence.

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“Quite the shame. You know, with all this security…” He said slowly looking up at the cameras and yet the hood covered his face from her as he continued, “False sense of security actually. You know, like a prophylactic worn by a man. Seems safe for you to suck and fuck it until the damn thing breaks and then you don’t know what you might catch…” He pauses only for another moment as she drops her left arm slowly still trembling.

“All the while the poor bastard as you so eloquently put it in regards to the security team that cannot see or hear me. You see, I am here for you, Amanda.”

She is completely engulfed in her own fear as she realizes that this is not an hallucination unless something was put into the cocaine, laced by some mind-alternating drug that turns reality into a living nightmare. Then, her boss would have digested the same thing as she attempts to reason this encounter off as just that, a hallucination.

The hood tilts a bit as if he is straining to hear or read her mind. The answer comes quickly and most shockingly as him calling her by her first name. “Oh, this isn’t a hallucination by any means. No, there wasn’t anything as some sort of element added to the already fatal toxins you took earlier. If it is any comfort at all, your boss is lying flat on his back gazing up at the dim lights of the Men’s Room. You see, he’s glaring up into the lights through the cloudy lenses of death. They’ll write it off as a drug overdose of cocaine, mixed with his Viagra leading to his sudden heart attack.”

She gasps and then screams.

“Shut the fuck up!” He reaches out with his leathered black hand and formed a tight fist that chokes her from across the room without physically putting his hand on her throat and windpipe. Yet she can feel the cold death-grip as the temperature in the elevator drops enough to see her own heavy breath.

He lifts her off of her feet by raising his left tightly fisted hand and arm up. Her body rises as she begins to kick her feet as one of her high heel shoes falls aimlessly to the elevator’s floor.

“Why is it that the security have not yet responded. This must be a burning question in your mind, right?” He drops his release as she falls to the floor gasping for air.

“I am the Black Reaper, the Devil’s own Reaper. I come to collect all that it is his and none other. I never guise myself like some old dear friend or relative to come to collect those that are marked, those that are already damned to hell.”

Amanda looks up at him still standing their in the corner. She has no strength to lift her shaking body up from the floor. Her thoughts turn to only these final moments.

“Wondering what you may have done so wrong? Maybe you’re wondering if you made some deal with the Devil you don’t or can’t remember?” He pauses for a response but gets nothing as her eyes struggle on the floor darting back and forth as he, the Black Reaper is already in her head.

“No, it’s not the hump and dump weekly games that brought you here to me, but it helps. Your shitty rat-fucking drug inducing games every Wednesday did not call in your marker sort of speak. No, it was something you’ve said when you were alone some time ago in your car after you killed your fiancé. Yeah, that rat-bastard always sneaking around and thinking he always had the upper hand to everyone and everything. What was it Amanda that drove you to brutally murder him some thirty-six times with that hunting knife you stolen from your friend? Surely it had to be something that brought you over the edge and consequently, threw him over the edge in South Dakota.” She can almost make out the Black Reaper’s voice becoming saturated by this egregious act of cold-blooded murder as these events were being played back in her mind. These thoughts buried so deep that she practically would forget now and then.

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So, you chucked poor ole’ Toby off into the sweet bye and bye  down an old air shaft to an ancient mine far below. You waited until you heard his limp body break up on the old mine’s floor, didn’t you? I do know it has been a while.”

She was replaying everything in her mind. The Black Reaper is right and deeply in her head. “You then thrown the murder weapon, his computer, the one that he replaced you with while you were still with him. Shame that he grew to love that more than he ever loved you. Though, Toby always had a problem with emotions, human emotions, real feelings that lead you, that driven you to off his ass as soon as you could safely do it.” He didn’t wait for her to respond.

“So you stolen a hunting knife from that former friend of yours. What did you call him? Oh yeah, ‘that esoterical asshole.’ Yeah, I can feel the contempt in your heart to this very day. The same name you shouted out while having sex with your former fiancé in those bitch in the heat moments. That neighbor loved you only as a friend. He knew you were delusional from the start but he enjoyed your companionship as you began to use his knowledge and wisdom in things you were grasping to yet to fully understand. Then he began to work on a very dark project that caught our attention over our own sort of evil souls in government. From presidents to congressmen, to judges, and all that was connected to these child pornography and snuff sites. Oh, raping little boys and girls were not enough for these men, they had to kill them and others too. We have so many like those among us, working for us, and dulling out suffering that makes all hell weep with envy.” The Black Reaper chuckled.

“You never took into account the suffering this neighbor had to relive in his own demons, and all you wanted to do is rub it in his face by saying, ‘you take things too seriously. Really? The Black Web and the ring of hellfire around it all and that is all you can say as you desperately tried to pry into his work in helping what little good was left in government. You lifted his blade and you never felt the curse on that knife not to mention, our growing curiosity into your private life..”

Bitter tears were flowing down her face and slowly turning to ice as the elevator stopped completely. Her eyes were filled with the memories, the burning memories of it all.

“You were told by this person that when you look into evil, evil will look back into you. Yet, you paid no heed, after all, you don’t beleive in Hell, Satan, and shit like me standing before you. Yet Satan and I never stopped believing in you, Amanda…” His voice grew serious and somewhat melancholy as she felt a cold bite of metal cutting deeply through her throat from ear to ear as he dropped the very same hunting knife she stolen and used on her beloved Toby.

Choking on her own dark blood and looking horrified at the hideous sight of the weapon and her last few moments flashing before her. Amanda could hear but not see the Black Reaper as death was setting in. “Your suffering Amanda is just starting to begin. There is a whole universe of our special ones that will enjoy violating every orifice in your tight little body as like that of a well-oiled peace-pipe being passed around from one creature to another. You’ll be robbed not only of your life and soul, but driven into complete madness. As, I stated earlier in the beginning that the day is yet young but I have done and continue to do all the tasks that begs my immediate attention.

The doors quickly open up as the first responders rush in only to find Amanda lying on the floor in a dark pool of blood. They look up and around at the arches of arterial spray that looks more like grim angelic wings. A security guard just outside the elevator door exclaims, “We have her on video, we have her confession of a murder she committed and her entire suicide!”

The detectives push the overly excited security guard back just enough to give room to the medics to load her tiny and frail body on the stretcher to cover her with a white blanket already beginning to saturate with blood.

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As the body of Amanda is pushed from the elevator now being controlled by the New York Homicide CSI Team, the young women that were sitting there in the waiting room screamed and were frighten by the gory sight. As one spoke ever so froth with emotion, “She just got on the elevator and closed the doors. We could all hear mumbling and then her talking about killing someone and she couldn’t live like this anymore or something.”

The older woman still behind her desk was answering questions to the detectives, “I don’t know anything much about Bonnie Bryant other than she was having a weekly affair with her boss usually in the men’s room and that is were you found Mister Mobley at? Oh, dear, Joe’s wife is going to need years of therapy over this one!”

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Because I Can; Opening a Frosty Keg of Kickass

Succubus 2018 created and designed by Douglas S. Taylor for DarcWorX

One of my former friends who lies in a shallow grave in my woods once asked, “Why do you do this kind of stuff?” She was referring to my graphic designs and artwork. I boldly answered, “Because I can.” while giving her one hell of a condescending look. Her boyfriend, or fuck-mate, or whatever sat and judged as usual. Naturally, he too gave his unsolicited opinion. Have you ever had a person pretending to be a friend only to secretly loath you? You know the kind, the kind of a shady motherfucker that something deep inside you says, “You can’t trust this asshole and the next chance you get, run him through, and gut him ASAP!”

I am certain you have and as you read this, I know that their are a few faces crossing that horizon of your brain in the recall memory processes. I showed them some work I am doing for some heavy metal bands, some authors, and an up and coming magazine both in print and online. You just might want to take a look over at my graphic department when you get the chance.

I love doing what I do and since this is a career, I never have to work another day in my fucking life. Creating worlds with words and various art is what I do from home on my Alienware Area 51 R4. The i9 Intel shreds the AMD Shredripper. The judgmental asshole  came to my home one evening to boast about how much better his new machine, when it comes in, will be over mine. Well, like most young asshole-savants, he never even bothered to substantiate this with facts. I used the Intel i7’s fastest against the AMD second-rate public-assistance processor and once again like all the rest, AMD was sucking dick in the dust. Let me not even begin to compare my machine’s benchmarks against the AMD lack luster performance throughout history. Now, I want you all to take note before you attempt to argue your case on deaf ears; if you are happy with what you do, how you do your work, and whatever else, then good for you. I am not a gamer even in the spite of my GTX 1080i times three with eleven gigs of DDR5 dedicated ram on each card in SLI. I actually play my games on my Samsung 10.1 Tab A tablet. I know, right?

Now this is something I learned long time ago, Microsoft Word in any variant in a new wine sack such as Word 2016 x64 comes up just as fast on my machine as it does on my tablet or my Alienware 17xR5 Laptop or on a Dell Inspiron Walmart Special. Now, if you are in the graphics business, the video editing and or video creation business, then you need something to render the shit out of your project without waiting a month of Sundays doing so.

I also know of some highly talented and creative folks in the music business that uses such tools to create some really kick ass projects. Besides, I love listening to my music through the 7.1 Surround Sound by Creative Labs and or listening through my Logitech Artemis Spectrum 7.1 Surround Sound wireless headsets too. I know there are faster computers with the i9 chip but have not seen any with such a chip yet with the same sort of specs I have under the hood. Formula 1 kind of computing for the home. Don’t even get me started on the D-Wave Quantum Computing that can make my desktop look like something back in the Stone Age.

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His complaint, you know, the judgmental asshole I took to school with stats from ZDNet, CNet, AMD, and Intel is that he thinks these companies lied to me and he thought, since I gave him i7 Intel stats, he bitched and said “I thought you have an i9?” I said, “I do, motherfucker. I just didn’t want to crush your feelings so hard. You know, since you have to have your girl drop a knee for me on that fact alone.”

Let this be a lesson to the the young and prideful to say nothing of the utterly misinformed. What a lame motherfucker, and then he complains about my Alienware 34” curved screen at 120 MHz screen. I just told him to go and suck a fucking dick. Really, like oh yeah, “I bought all this stuff to do my work on with your approval in mind. Now get out!”

He didn’t like my Ultimate Gaming Mouse that I use and is programmed for Adobe Photoshop CC 2017 and a couple of other fine Adobe applications to say nothing about the Microsoft Visual Studio 2017 Enterprise. Oh, and on my Win 10 Enterprise OS. Yeah, he had to complain like a gut-shot ape over how Microsoft works for the NSA and CIA. I had to break it to him that all Operating Systems from Linux, Windows, Apple, and Solaris are just as exposed. I also told him for every complaint he’s crying buckets about, there are features he could if only he would do his own research as in shutting some of the features down. I am so close to “disable” this jackass. He truly is a fucking half-witted cunt.

Out of all the operating systems I have been exposed to since 1986 professionally and since 1982, my favorites have been Microsoft Windows 2000 Professional and Windows 7 Ultimate x64. I am getting Windows 10 Enterprise reigned in.

Now a days, I don’t see them much only when they try to avoid me and run headlong into their house and car. Like I am really going to kill them or something.

Oh, I might use their likeness and such as characters, you know, fictional characters that gets all carved up making the Saw Franchise look like Subway Sandwich Shops. Hey, you can put a human body in an industrial size plastic drum filled with toxic chemicals that will juice them both on a slow boat to China these days.

Just kidding…

Oh, and some things that I forgot to post in this article. Sorry about that. I truly am. I hate telling good people bad news, I really do… (sounds like the Prophet from the Matrix). Since it is 2018 and all, well, I decided to upgrade my artwork and you all shall be noticing the differences. Some are subtle though. I did ask and set up some auto-tweets inquiring the world on the new resolutions. So far not a peep. Nevertheless, rest assured that I will continue to kick some serious ass in this aspect as usual. I also have added new mockup movie posters that stars or features some of my greatest fans, followers, and such. I stopped this for some time as I realized that I was making a lot of miserable people really jealous. Call it an experiment in social networking. Yeah man, did the haters come out of the fucking woodwork. Some of these same people still come here and read to see if I would talk about them or something. I have so few unfortunates and casualties in my crimson wake that it isn’t even worth mentioning.

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Thanks for reading as always,

Douglas S. Taylor

Your Deadly Demise

DarcWorX International Wallpapers and Art. Created by Douglas S. Taylor 2018

For Amanda S. Who went way out of her way to make this poem possible.

I should have never trusted in you and your words of deadly deceit
I should have never talk and entertain with you
Wish I had run the other direction as fast as I fucking could
How could I not see all your delusions and lies playing out like a demented game
Succubus in a pretty bitch, pretty but disgustingly a horrid apparition of humanity
At last your heart shall finally fade and the silence of your grand deceptions
As I kill you, yeah, as violently as I can to repay all that your body owes
Hard to stop this artistic talent in creating such a horror with every thrust I make
There is no one that needs your kind among the living in this world – A civic duty



I bury you face down in a cold shallow grave of shards of rusting metal
And I place an ugly stone void of your name pressing your face into the shards
As I bury you forever in the back of my mind
And I let the creatures of the earth suckle and eat your rotting flesh



I want to be myself as I tear into your mortality as you gasp with every thrust
There is no escape from the wrath and the punishment you have earned
I want to be completed as I sever you from limb from bloody limb
Now I can be myself as you look one last time into my cold merciless eyes
Fade away now little broken bitch as the dark blood runs freely from your mouth



I should have never gave you my time and attention but only my infliction
Demon-Bitch you’re rotting to the core as the worms eat your mind
I am the fool that’s fallen down but I get up quickly with an quenching vengeance
I laid down and quieted my mind in seeing your wicked plans
Now I’m making the world a better place free without you
It’s my pleasure in viciously killing you in such a way
You shall never been seen and found again



Three feet deep and dismembered under the forest debris
No one is here to grieve on your behalf
Your lifeless shattered body is freezing cold
No one shall look for you – No one shall take you home



I buried you good as you now decompose in your foul stench
So that you may feed the your filth to the worms and maggots
I shall plant a tree of thorns above your bones that brings pain and suffering
As the decades pass your name and face shall become forever gone
Your legacy is void and no progeny to carry on to endure your curse

DarcWorX thanks all that supports the world over!
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Then Along Came The Spider…

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Some things change and some things remain the same. I would like to welcome all the new folks to my blog of horror, the strange, the odd, the macabre, and the “Darc.”

I shall wish and everyone of you for all the support via the social networks in 2017. As a graphic designer to include clothing at the VIDA Studio. The stuff is available all over the world and yes, it’s selling!

I would also like to wish all those who in the “darc” past that faded away, went underground as in; the groundhogs are delivering your mail for you. Yes, all those tormented and twisted souls that are no longer with us. Yes, these lost souls fall into the category of “Who Gives A Fuck.” I must remind you that coming here like a creepy ghost in the night clicking around and, in your way, creating extra revenue to the Darc. I appreciate your ill-spent energy and bandwidth. I truly do!

Damn, almost forgot, I would like to wish everyone a belated, “Merry Christmas.” There, better late than ever.

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The above cover is based upon unholy almost actual events here in the Americas. Yes indeed, I killed Santa Claus and my friend Andy wanted pictures so, here you go!

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I know there are folks wondering if I really have any predictions for 2018. I think I have expressed them more than well enough throughout the various platforms of social media to the point of crystal clarity. I made my predictions on the geopolitical, national, and my local area in a myriad of topics. Naturally they are both clear and foreboding. I can go on for days talking, showing, providing precious links in tying up these real facts, you know, the real truth that might make you think differently, and waking you up from the Matrix. Moreover, most won’t dare to experience the horror of reality – Real horror.

Speaking about horror and that is the heart of this blog by the way, there is so much coming for you in these realist realms for those who can see, for those who are half-awake, and those still jacked in and getting pumped with some really good MK-Ultra – Damn, there I go again. Let me just end this right here. No matter what group or stage that you may be in, it doesn’t matter, some major dude will put it all back again in due time. Just remember, the Government kills more people than any war. In fact, I believe it falls second just under poverty as the major threat goes. There is religion that is a tool for government.

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Hey, you all know that my musical taste is in a word, “Eclectic.” I love certain bands, groups, and such that seems to know no bounds. Having said that, why does Five Finger Death sounds like they have all been gut-shot apes complaining about, you know, mom and dad, and their misgivings. These guys have some killer tunes, nevertheless, “American Capitalist” way back in 2011. Now if these guys were/are hating on the government, then the message is lost in the Deluxe Version I have of this album.

Just my take on this as I find myself listening to this album as I am writing right up until I switch to Matchbox 20.

On this note, I close out 2017, and again, I wish you all well.

Thanks for dropping in!

Douglas S. Taylor


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