Lycanthrope; The Angola Man

Another great short story from the up and coming novel, “The Werewolves of Deadwood.”
By Douglas S. Taylor

Art and graphics created by Douglas S. Taylor, 2017. Copyright Protected 2017.

Prelude: Another short story giving voice to the werewolf community and a note from the author, Douglas S. Taylor.

First off, thanks for dropping in on my most favorite part of the year and as for me, the best season of them all where nature sheds its dead any dying with the scent of burning leaves in the air. This blog is built, designed, and rocked by the dark creative powers of my tormented muses forged through my soul, heart, and mind.

Having a real go at it with the condemned creative spirits of my ancestors that are kicking up in a leaf-lifting small and chilling turbulence clearing a path before me as I stroll deeper in the core of my mind. Things have been hitting me really hard with life in general like I am on another plane of existence. Not that this is a bad thing, I am just more acute – my mind and soul as I have decided to close out the world around me and crank out my passion. If you came here to read this telling of the history of how “The Werewolves of Deadwood” came to be or in how the Lycanthrope has been with us through time in general then buckle up and enjoy this ride with me. This is going to be intense, four-dimensional, and deep. If you are a fan of the Werewolf in general and or are into “The Werewolves of Deadwood” in which I have a couple of short stories out here right now if you had not the chance to catch, “Tales From Under the Concrete, Volume I, Volume II, and with Volume III. It’s all on Amazon available Internationally. The links above are the links for Amazon’s American Site but you can pick them up anywhere in the world.

Okay, I had to plug in those little goodies…

I wrote about how “The Werewolves of Deadwood” came to be already in a much earlier post. In case you have not read, “The Sheriff” and “Grimstalker” then you’re in for a mind-blowing experience.

If you do indeed are in love with dark adult horror that is written in my mindset intended for an audience that appreciates the “Darc.” Then I am your man. I have to make this statement because there seems to be a few people that think this blog is about pleasantries, clean language, and lifeless character dialogs or think if I wrote a character that walks off the pages and is in your face as a reflection of me in some way, well, that’s really fucked up about you and it’s really none of my business anyways.

Right, now let’s move on. I think I peppered those who may be new or those who expects happy endings then you might want to stick with Harry Potter and Disney. For everyone else, you came to feed your dark souls to some kind of power, and “Jonesing” for a feast then, this is the right place.

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Man, enough about me and the ambience of this “darc” little world of the Blogosphere. As always, subscriptions are free and all’s you have to do is just sign up at the subscription box. WordPress will handle all that for you from then on. Personally, I have nothing to do with that, and last time I checked, WordPress doesn’t spam.

Let’s now get deep and find out how the Lycanthrope became what they were throughout  history of mankind.

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Historical Introduction to the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy: The first archeological digs to uncover the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy was discovered in 1904 some fifteen kilometers northeast of Calandula at the Kalandula Falls on the shores of the Lucala River. This site would be proven as one of the oldest sites with carbon-dating nearly some ninety years after the initial find. Angola’s history is anything but kind to its native people. Moreover, much later as the years of the Portuguese conquest and the next few centuries of brutality, there was something deep in the jungles that only the white Europeans caught the faintest whispers about what would be called, “The Angola Man.” According to this darkly legend this myth, this story was thought out in the view of the Portuguese as a fable to keep the white Europeans from coming further inland. The Portuguese slave-traders, the trading posts and scant settlements began to keep an account of this legend as only a few, those native to the land captured claimed that this man, this creature had the ability to change into some sort of hideous monster with a sinister taste for human flesh. These accounts, hand-written by a Jesuit Priest near present day Calandula were sent by dispatch back to the Vatican and to Lisbon. The Vatican sent forth several additional priests as the information from the Portuguese priest.

The Vatican and for that matter, anyone else, would only find the rough frontier mission destroyed and as for the priest, no one had any idea. It would be a long journey, and painful one at that for the priests who attempted to find the author of the documents. By the time of the return to the Vatican, there was only one Jesuit that survived to give his personal account. Only vague rumors spread throughout the Angola region as the Roman Catholic Authority buried all the documents and the sworn accounts that would later be revealed centuries later. As for the sole survivor, he found himself succumb to some sort of unidentifiable infliction that those who attended to his needs realized that the priest was possessed by some evil demon. The account of this sole survivor’s death and those surrounding the events were buried right along side the records, accounts, and forbidden by the church to ever speak of this again.

As for the scholars, the telling of what the Portuguese took on the myth as the “Angola Man” became nearly forgotten. There was no more whisperings or claimed first-hand sightings or victims of the attacks. Some of the remaining natives claimed that those who survived the attacks were rounded up and killed off by fire and beheadings. It would be just be mere chance that this legend of the “Angola Man” would come about. Needless to say, the position of the Vatican claimed they knew nothing about what they called as some sort of hedonistic native superstition and nothing more.

Suppression of the “Angola Man” by the Vatican seemed assured. It would be a couple of centuries later and to the chagrin of the Vatican, that science would find its own path into the rediscovery of the “Angola Man” through combined efforts and discoveries beyond the reach of the Vatican.

Archaeology and those seeking by finds and connecting various dots across Europe, the Middle East, Africa of course, and the Americas.

It would be England and those of Oxford that began unveiling the fragments of the “Angola Man” mythology while investigating the European accounts of Lycanthropy. Highly skeptical as science should be scoured what little they could initially leading those of Oxford to find if there was, at the time, any evidence, any physical evidence.  Leading the investigation into Lisbon and finding some mythical tales uncovered some very old documents kept at a small church near the Spanish boarder. These documents, old, but, compelling, England had enough to finance an expedition into Angola. There near where the remains of the old mission was uncovered only driving Lord Victor James of the Royal British Museum with the  joint effort with the German anthropologist Dr. Fredrick Schmidt near modern day Angola  in the northeastern direction passed the village of Calandula at the Kalandula Falls on very shores of the Lucala River right where the research would prove the discovery solidifying the myth.

Lord James would later be called upon a discovery of near human creatures in the ancient cave paintings matching the same cave drawings in Lascaux to the most recent discovery of those in Chauvet, France dating back as 17,000 BCE. There in France would only have the paintings and the possibilities of a sub-species of earlier man, perhaps the ancestor of that of the “Angola Man,” and shear speculation at best. Still, there would come more from various areas of the world.

Older cave drawing would later be discovered in Australia and in the United States in Utah. The cave drawings of Nabascar, ancient day village of Sumer of 19,400 BCE were thought to be the oldest until the discovery in Angola’s Kalandula Falls  Site where only decades later through science would prove that Kalandula Falls is the earliest dating back some 48,000 BCE from remains of the second expedition through intensive DNA testing categorizing the shocking revelation of the “Angola Man.” As with the advent of DNA, the carbon-dating on the fossil remains of the first finds proved that the “Angola Man” was some 240,000 years ago.

During the second expedition into Angola by England was well under way. Lord Victor James found himself once again, leading the second expedition of the “Angola Man.” Oxford, England would become the epicenter of the scientific community as far as the “Angola Man” was concerned. Unfortunately for England, Lord James, and the rest of the world would suffer World-War I. The furtherance of the “Angola Man” was to be shelved.

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After the end of WWI, Lord Victor James was asked to come and visit a very perplexing cave painting found in the state of Utah. There he could clearly see that the native American Tribe called the, Paiute Indian Tribe oldest known cave paintings, and yet, still older is the monolith carvings and cave drawings in the Moab Region of the state. Here is where a very strange monolith that Lord James believes shows what may look like the “Angola Man.” The ancestors of the Paiute Indians called, Pre-Indians, then later called, “Columbia Man.”

These drawings shown what scholars would call, “The transitioning of man to a raging wolf-like creature and then eating women and children. This was the only evidence showing a possible transitioning of a man, or in the Paiutes as a “Shape-Shifter.” It would be later in the summer of 1920 when Lord Victor James would discover along with the leading scientific American, Dr. Wally Davidson that between the “Columbian Man” and the Notah or the Ute People who settled around 12,000 years ago in this region that the Paiute People briefly, through supremacy in numbers caused the Ute People to relocate. This was also noted in the three slightly different styles of art. Dr. Wally Davidson’s task was specifically keep everything between the Ute People and the treaties set forth by the American Government.

The timeline was most important for the three teams to establish a timeline of first who where the first humans that settled into this region which began as early as 14,000 years ago by the “Columbian Man.” The “Columbian Man” were the first settlers into this region and there was more evidence through cave and monolithic carvings to show that the similarities between the different native peoples had in common other than the present day language of the various people in the region. The “Shape-Shifter” as it were, was among the Columbian Man, later around 8,000 years ago, the Paiute up to and around 2,500 years only to abandon the region. The Ute People entered and remained in the region around 1,200 ADE. The Ute People seemed to have the upper hand to fight off these cannibalistic people with the advent or introduction of the bow presumed a date some time during the early fifth century ADE when the second wave of the Ute People conquered or driven out the “Shape-Shifters.” Both cave and monolithic carvings spelled out the accuracy that would definitely be most appreciated all this evidence from Lord Victor James and the United States leading Archaeologist, Dr. Wally Davidson. Following both the physical evidence in remains and drawings from the stone in Moab shown that some time around 1540 ADE the reintroduction by the Spanish, the horse.

During 1924, unique as well as perplexing shown the old graves of various human changes of the shape-shifting through the skeletal records. Again, every known shape-shifting grave site shown signs of the use of fire as well as decapitation preformed by the Ute People that also collaborated with the timelines, the Ute People’s tellings, as well as an abundancy of physical evidence of such a creature. In the eyes of Lord Victor James, the “American Shape-Shifter” was somehow the same sort of sub-species to the Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens found in Africa before the war. Lord James believed that the “Angola Man” described as some sort of huge jackal-like creature plaguing the local Angola Tribes. Lord James in his ailing condition coupled with his aging years was sent back to his homeland where he would spend the reminder of his life rallying the “Angola Man” and the American finds in Southern Utah as one of the very same species of man.

Lord Victor James’ efforts into convincing the English Academia in the spite of all the evidence, he could not be right. Some speculate that Lord Victor James did not succumb to a natural death but silenced by his own nation’s government. The monarch of England who championed covertly into Lord James’ two expeditions into Angola and his tireless efforts in America also publically denounced Lord James’ conclusion. Officially he died of a simple heart failure during the early hours of August 20, 1926. British Academia, the Royal British Museum along with Oxford removed all information collected from the brilliant mind and his finds from Africa from the public along with volumes of his unofficial and obviously suppressed data from the eyes of the public.

It would be his progeny some 90 years after his death that blew the lid right off the suppressed data and physical evidence to include information of the assassination of Lord James and the darkly kept secret of the collusion of the royal family.  The United States also suppressed all the information, physical evidence, along with with the deaths of both teams lead by, Dr. Wally Davidson to include himself. According to local papers and the outcry of the local people that the ill-fated train robbery in which the final destination to Washington D.C. went down near Woonsocket, South Dakota. None survived the train robbery, the dynamite used to destroy any kind of evidence. The official story of so called, local eye-witnesses said the train robbery was conducted by regional Sioux tribes in February, 23 of 1928.

The official story to many was nothing but some kind of fabrication of a clandestine staged robbery by the United States Army. There was absolutely no proof outside the testimonies of the witnesses of Woonsocket that the local Sioux tribes had anything to do with the outright killings and destruction of evidence conveniently swept under the rug.

Again, like America’s counterparts in England so too the results of deception and destruction of evidence, the scientists, any anything to do with the research in the Moab region met a very mysterious end would be proven a full century later that the various conspiracy theories were proven true and the long dead eye-witnesses would be found that they perjured themselves opening up what later proved as the Woonsocket Conspiracy as well as the very least as a complacent government. It would be the research to formerly charge those working in the Pentagon, the US Congress leading up to the Calvin Coolidge Administration who would remain President of the United States until March 4, 1929.

The United States would quickly be thrown into “Back Tuesday” of October 29, 1929. So, it would seem the nation would have far better things to formerly look into the possibilities that the Coolidge Administration and the US Army’s involvements in the Woonsocket Conspiracy. The nation would have to wait nearly 100 years later for the truth and the world-wide empirical evidence of the extraction of the DNA of the “Angola Man” and new evidence gathered in Moab, Utah that the two major finds were practically identical in every way.

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The United Nations decided that the pulmonary DNA findings from America would be sent to the Brussels’ Human Genetics Medical Research Center for further studies on behest of the Russian Republic and the majority of the NATO countries. The United States Government reluctantly complied giving more suspicions.

The United States’ findings to include the DNA flew out of Washington DC. However, the material to include 224 passengers and crew was never seen again only adding more mystery and the condemnation upon America. Moreover, the conspiracy theories thrived showing enough information once again to prove how corrupt and what would be later to be proven as the “Lycan Conspiracy.”

There was enough DNA evidence to prove once and for all, the data, the remains, to include the additional findings far from the reach of the infested corrupt American Government. Russia had turned over additional DNA and archeological findings. The Brussels’ Human Genetics Medical Research Center proved once and for all that the history books would need to be re-written. Scientists concluded that there is a separate species and dubbed it, “Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy.”

The new data not only challenged the current scientific narrative as well as the major religions that there was always Homo-Sapiens-Lycanthrope walking among us. It is also made clear since, “Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy” is its own species of mankind, that there was no cure or gene therapy as in a cure to change a Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy or in the vernacular, werewolf into or back into a human. Most of the ancient stories, religions of old, and pre-history is proven right with the few exceptions to include;

The moon does not hold its sway over a shape-shifter which is a werewolf
Werewolves are not allergic to silver or a silver bullet lethal
Werewolves natural state for humans bitten are in their original human form.
Werewolves natural state for Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy is that of the Werewolf.
Religious artifacts of any kind to include New Age beliefs and icons do not
work to protect one from a possible attack or drive a Shape-Shifter off.
Human, Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens cannot get infected with the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy genome only through being bitten, body fluids, and through open wounds.
Once a human is infected by a Shape-Shifter there is no known “cure” or tradition to change back to just being a human.

During the chaotic times in this new age of discovery of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy, the Vatican came forth with the information only at the point of the smallest nation in the world would fall prey to the external forces as well as darker forces from within. As the death of the Vatican and thusly the Roman Catholic Church was imminent, the sacred records along with a sea of files, documents, computer data, pictures, and studies secretly conducted by the Vatican since 1910 had knowledge of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy and the fact that the Lycans was, at the time, alive, and the barbaric dogmatic testing conducted.

A violent end of the Vatican and its tens of centuries of misdeeds finally succumbed. From the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy genetics gave the scientists and the medical community all information world-wide. Humanity is not alone. The Homo-Sapiens-Lycanthrope detection and exposure processes were handed over to the U.N. as well as the various superpowers of China, Russia, and India were given for further weaponizing chemical and biological studies into such weapons that could be sprayed under the cover of Chemical Trails, public water, and all European Lycan Control Centers or the EULCC. The EULCC morphed into a newly formed borderless advanced military throughout Europe. The propaganda against Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in France and Germany fanned out to the far reaches of the world as the “Great Culling” of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy has begun.

Before all out war was declared upon the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy, many were brought into remote concentration camps in Poland, Lithuania, Holland, and Denmark. Norway would be the first to begin the death camps for the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in their final solution. However, the truth became public in Norway and this caused the very beginning of the “Pro-Lycan Movement,” and a growing threat to all those offering a final solution for the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy. In this tumultuous period of civil unrest revealed  a much darker creature webbed throughout humanity while during the “Great Culling” and power-grab that dwarfed Hitler and his Nazi Party. This creature is known as the vampire and resulting in two distinct groups later to be easily defined.

As history will reveal that the main driving force in such governments for the “Final Solution” or the “Great Culling” period was none other than the vampires and those under the vampires’ control. These facts revealed did little more than push those governments and the majority of people to swell the ranks of the “Pro-Lycan Movement.”

The humans now had the perfect war. In Russia the Lycans would proven entirely too numerous throughout the wilderness and the Siberian regions. The chemicals and biological agents didn’t work as promised and some speculated it was these chemicals and the biologicals that are responsible for the modern day vampire. Those that were captured alive found that the modern day vampire was not a third species of human but those infected with the K-17 Virus.

Again, some even postulated that the K-17 Variant was used in the processes of the leading biological weapons. Others claim that the United States is at fault for the FDA and the Atlanta Disease Control along with a long list were responsible in the covert operations conducted with the help of the CIA in getting the variant, the flawed variant into the bloodstream of the human species. In America, these K-17 variants proven ineffective on the Lycan. Those Humans who were ordinary Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens affected by the botched K-17 Virus definitely began effecting the general public. The K-17 Virus as history shows turned humans through a couple of three stages before become a modern-day vampire. The beginning of an effected were experience what is coined as the, “First Death.”

The First Death would be suffered only to those former humans that had direct exposure to include the United States Armed Forces, secret agencies, the CIA, and, well, a morbid spectrum in society. The First Death phase lasted the infected for three to five days. These bodies left alone without incineration, decapitation, and to include liquefaction processes would evolve quickly into all the symptoms of being the undead as in ghouls and zombies. Those in this second stage would be highly infected and this K-17 variant would be passed from the infected undead state to the victim only if the victim survived an attack. The third phase of the K-17 victims would then morph into what would be considered a normal human being. The modern day vampire would remain in this state until its final or “Second Death” by the same means of extermination as to the second phase. The modern day vampire proved that vampirism is very much alive as with those in control of the world banks, the Federal Reserve in America along with many members of Wall Street. It seems as if some horrifying payback of karma fell upon the beloved 1% of the world’s richest. This fact alone was one of the key ingredients of the redistribution of trillions upon trillions of untold riches. Some go as far as they could in helping out karma since she moves a might slow.

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Then came the RU-486 that would prove to be the mutually destructive in both effecting the Lycan and those either turned or bitten to a hideous death. In the newly discovered modern-day vampire would grow intolerant by sunlight driving them to the darkest lairs and ancient ruins throughout the world. Still, the Lycans were to be exterminated as the RU-486 would keep these shape-shifters from changing into their much stronger natural selves making the final solution easer in America as well as Europe in spite of the growing movement for the Lycans. As the movement grew into the “Pro-Lycan Party” or the PLP that became engulfed in Europe as well as Russia, China, and India. The public grew weary of the decimation of the Lycans. France, Germany, Norway, Italy, and England were forced to the Lycan Peace Processes beginning after the Monarchy of England were brought forth like in Medieval times to be executed because of their vampire conspiracies. It is also noted that the horrid truth is that the British Royal Family were vampires, vampires like the Rothschild Banking Cartel were all stemming from the ancient Germanic Vampire bloodlines. A grandiose public display of separating heads from spine of not only the British Monarchy, but heads of the parliament were also put to the business end of the Executioner’s axe. It would later be proven that several of the executioners were of Lycan and this information would be only a footnote in the annals of history.

England, Wales, Scotland, and the British owned Northern Ireland became awash in debt-free power, wealth, and the end of “British Want.” These facts of the largest transference of wealth to the public would go down as the greatest of mankind’s history would attest.

The PLP Accord was reached only after the Lycan War sacking Moscow, Western Russia, and the devastating defeat of the Communist Chinese. The PLP Accord would ban any termination, detention, capture of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy species. Furthermore, the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy were not allowed hunt down and kill humans. The charge of “Murder” for the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy only applied to their own since Humans, normal humans, murder is defined as one human killing within the same species. 

The power and wealth transference changed the faces of all governments to include China as well. This period was the beginning of the “Second Golden Age” of social, medical, and scientific realms. The persecution of the Lycans would stop and force all remaining governments, independent governments to the table of the United Nations with the PLP Accord. Moreover, due to the high numbers lost amongst the ranks of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy, many who survived would choose to separate themselves from their human counter-parts due to fears, hatred, and persecution though outlawed, were to continue along with the use of the RU-486 Virus slightly modified to use against the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy. Illegal and those found using the RU-486 would be executed by local and regional laws provided from the guidelines of the PLP Accord.

The RU-486 would continue and infect the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy species driving them to near extinction. In the United States, the Department of Homeland Security under the new mandates of the PLP Accord pushed hard against the U.N. Resolution was actively instrumental by secretly lobbying with other elements resulting in the introductions of these bills and acts to Congress.

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The actions and conspiracy of the Homeland Security proven true that the last of the vampire covens where among and protected by this wretched Department. Homeland Security would be finally dissolved and all those that were a part of this vampire deception were executed in Washington D.C.

As many would come to realize that the vampire covens had a stranglehold not only over the Central Banking Cartels, but well among all major branches of government. The newly formed Federal Bureau of Investigation or commonly known as the FBI lead investigation after investigation purging the various parasitical vampire infestation.  Due to the newly aligned FBI, proved the older regime of the US Government in all three major branches were formerly under the direct control of the vampires in what was labelled as the “Shadow Government.” The FBI would continue to find additional vampire covens controlling most of the major Cabals other than just the banking and all three branches of US Government but well nested in the CIA and Pentagon to say nothing about the Military Industrial Complex. All of federal along with state and local governments would be purged from the various vampire covens’ controls.

Chancellor of England, Lord Richard Simmons was quoted, “Though the United States thinks its still a superpower and that of an Empire seems to have to be forced to clean its own house before making such a boast.”

Lord Richard Simmons would shortly later be proven right. As history has shown that as far as America was the last to sign the PLP Accord was the leading nation of the vampire infestation stemming from the fascist banking cartels in 1913 through the beginning of the “Second Golden Age.” For America would indeed have to wait until the vampire covens would be exterminated. History would show the bloody extent of the vampires’ involvement in the most insidious acts against humanity from the Spanish-American War and later show as key players in the American Civil War. There seemed to be no end in sight as to the wickedness and the seduction of the American Public and those of its former ally nations.

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The American public broken of the parasitical government turned its focus in the eradication of these covens and the various cabals, corporations, and other organizations. As far as the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in America, many feared that they are either migrated out or died within the US Boarders. Nevertheless, the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy definitely faded into urban legends in the Eastern Regions of the United States to include the West. Some agencies in the American South claims that the last remnants of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy are in small pockets in the remote areas. Other agencies claim that several Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy “Packs” are very much alive and well. As to the truth of the Homo-Lycan-Lycathropy in America is uncertain…

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There I was, you guessed it, knee-high in entrails after a very powerful explosion as I smell the C4 filling my nostrils still fresh in the air above me as I walked into what was left of a gutted building. I then fasten my oxygen mask to my helmet array. The blast leveled 6 city block vaporizing everything in that radius. Good thing in a way that I wasn’t any closer to the blast and falling debris, you would be using an Ouija Board to talk to me.


You, see, it wasn’t me that did the detonation, but those I have been tracking down like a bloodhound. The ones responsible for this hideous act of terrorism is nothing more than a couple of CIA and MASAD agents posing as ISIL/ISIS in a false-flag psych-ops. I am shocked that the Corporation Cabal didn’t try to persuade the Federal Government that has failed us all so miserably that this act was planned and carried out directly by us.


Just be a remarkable chance earlier this morning, my facial recognition confirmed two out of a possible four to six cell

team is definitely in the area. This might be my lucky day, I thought. Unfortunately, too fucking late for all the untold folks killed in the blast. Seems that I have been a step behind them. I have my new orders now, and these sons of bitches ain’t getting away. Once again, the world will know the truth about this mass killing of the public.


My Helmet’s HUD Display came online through my black facemask — Non-reflected of course. Green lights told me from within that the live stream is in sync with the world wide web via satellites. I want every soul to know what is going on as more people across America are driven to our cause after Los Angeles was leveled by a nuclear missile from an American Boomer running silent and not so deep. Truth managed to get out and this false-flag disaster killing millions of people and maybe more kicked off the new civil war. I must admit, looking back, the Corporation Cabal is doing a fantastic job of getting people off their asses and forcing them, us all, to make a choice.

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Yeah, the same old shit that fools every American to this very day is losing its grip making all question everything and finally stopped listening to the Cabal – The Federalists, aka the Fascist Regime. A few bad presidents later, I mean, quite a few since Woodrow “Sell-Out” Wilson. Personally, I would not call this rebellion against the establishment a “Civil War” but to overthrow the Nemesis of the U.S. Constitution.


Hence, the name was given to us all who have a dog in the fight, “The Constitutionalists.” For myself, I never believed in either the Democrats or the Republican Parties. To me, those slack-jawed motherfuckers were all one of the same. Man, I am the dog in this fight, and I am far from being the only one.


Here in the now. I am all dressed up for the occasion as I knew high over my head was a Predator Drone with a Hellfire II Missile with my name on it. So, I have to stay focus because of this slight issue of being a new crater with my DNA all over it. Meanwhile, the fires, the smoke, and debris still in the air would give me enough cover to at least track these twinkled-toed motherfuckers down.

 
Nevertheless, today, today is different and in this dream, I was in my element  — My training never left me, never faltered, never failed. Moreover, that was a completely different time and a different government that I faithfully served. Now, right now is a completely different geopolitical world. New alliances made. The Corporation Cabal attempted to buy the Russians into the mix. I reckon the Cabal thought the Russians are brain-dead or something. Since the millions lost in Los Angeles, Seattle, San Francisco, and Portland, Oregon, the Russians stuck it to Washington D.C. not to mention, Maryland in quite the surprise. The Russians never launched a nuke, and would never stoop to such levels as the Cabal – But any government and or regime has its own corruption. The Russians are far from being halo-wearing self-righteousness like the Federalists.

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The Russians hacked into the NSA using a variant of the NSA code, yeah, these fuckers are more of a help than an opposing force. The incompetence of the NSA is our best friend, this is what I am saying. Anyways, with all these hacks, we got control of a few satellites and complete control of all the nukes still sitting all along our territories west of the Mississippi.This, nothing short of a full-blown miracle. A few SUK-57s later and Andrews, what was left who didn’t jump sides knowing who really is the enemy was pounded into the historical archives along with Langley and of course, the CIA Headquarters. Obviously, that the CIA caught wind of this just before the air-strike by our Russian “comrades.”

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As I maneuvered through the outer region of the blast, I manage to get back on track in hunting these dogs down. I thought, how in the hell am

I going to get through the vaporized zone. Then realizing that I am moving through some very hot spots would wipe out any tracking by infrared and such. Besides, there is enough shit in the air to cloak me enough.


Soon, I found them all above a nearby highway bypass high-fiving each other as I got Facial IDs showing who they are and who they are really working for. However, I find it shameful to have to say that these assholes are CIA as I zipped two perfect headshots. Closed caskets for those lads and now for the remaining four assholes. The clock is ticking and until air support comes in, I am at the mercy of this damned situation. I needed a fast way to get up there and get those ducking their fucking demise. Then with all the shit around to include the very same on-ramp they must have used to get up there.


I can’t stay where I am at. I know any moment that Hellfire II would pick up my signature as I could see the remaining guys yelling and crying into the radio in English of course. My heart pumping enough adrenaline through my system, I have only one thing on my mind and that’s to get these four remaining zipper heads some lethal booster shots.


I went into a really dark place into the depths of my soul. It is my primary objective to wipe these ass-clowns off the face of the planet. I have not failed a mission and I wasn’t going to break my winning now.


I manage to make it up to the highway’s on-ramp and up to the bypass. Odd, that the remaining four would actually stay low and now attempting to fire back at me. Obviously, mistake number three for them as returned fire as flashes from my weapon chopped them up double-quick time as those standard bullets didn’t have any effect on my outerwear. I quickly reloaded as I grabbed the radio and then I turned, jumping off the overpass, drop, roll, and found cover in the nick of time as the Hellfire II struck the area I was just at a couple of seconds ago. I didn’t have time to watch the last guy die as he was choking up some dark blood.

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The explosion is intense as I am now ground level behind a huge chunk of concrete. I can’t believe this wonderful armor suit. I smiled as the fireball is going around engulfing me. Naturally, without the suit, I would have been fried a long time ago. Man, I have to going to have to send DARPA a goddamned “Thank You” card. Yeah, a good thing for the latest body armor from DARPA. I don’t think any of those assholes would mind. You know, their stuff being used for good…


For a change…


Now, in the all-clear, double-checking my weapon and suit to include all my systems in the green, yeah, I find myself very impressed with all this new technology that didn’t quite make it to the Federalist since we tracked down the shipments being hauled by train across New Mexico. Special Forces, my gang, we got ours first, and right away, anyone fighting on the front lines got theirs. Once the technology of this suit was jacked, we went into full production by the time Texas fell to our control. It didn’t take much for Texas to see things our way. I mean for fuck sakes, it’s Texas after all, and most already saw things on the same channel, sort of speak.


When the Federalists tried their damnedest to send in their Army and Air Force remaining to kill their own families, well, another great mistake by the Pentagon now laying in waste. Not even a scratch on good ole’ Abe. I cannot say that for the rest of D.C.


My com still silent and I had my orders accomplished. I changed direction to the east. My communication equipment is working fine. Combat Operations for this mission is just east of the Indiana border. My ass needs to get to the landing zone or it’s going to be a long walk to Indiana.

 
I have some time to reflect a bit on this morning’s events leading up to this moment. The only thing I am sorry about as my ears are still ringing from the new blast is the fact, “Too bad I couldn’t get to these motherfuckers earlier…” In the dream, I sure was contrite about that fact. So many families wiped out.

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An indicator is flashing letting me know that I am running low on my oxygen tank feeding into my helmeted mask. My head’s up display and digital readouts were still working great and as I hid there under the ruins of concrete, I could not believe my luck as fortune does favor the foolish. The CIA drone dropped altitude in hopes of finding whatever that remained would give them one of the glowing warm-hearted feelings back at, “Lost in the Fucking Woods, Maryland. Oh, the damned look in their faces as they would think they snuffed out all the loose ends of this slaughter only to find out the public fall out once again adding to a very long list of reasons for people joining up with us, the Constitutionalists.


My auto-tracking picked up another target quickly approaching from the air from the easterly direction coming in fast.


It’s the damned drone that is banking sharply into my favor as I had the bird all locked in via my HUD display and synchronizing my weapon in nanoseconds. “Come to papa, bitch!”


I honestly don’t know if the good folks at the new CIA Digs got to see the end of my weapon pissing out lead sending the craft into a fireball. I avoided another death sentence and I quickly moved away and heading to my L.Z.


Man, I am indeed fortunate today and just imagining the long and shocked faces at looking at their large HD 4k displays going abruptly dark. That brought a smile to my otherwise, melancholy stone face.


Moving quickly to a ravaged bus, I hid there for a few seconds as I heard a cloud of voices coming over that handheld radio asking if, “The team” is okay. They were demanding a SitRep. Oh, I had one for them, it is gonna break their fucking hearts as I told them their bad news.


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“All is lost and I am streaming this shit live to all the good people of the world in real time. You are not getting away with another 9/11 today, bitches.” Anymore, they or my forces would lock into this signal and today, I just didn’t feel like being blown to bits.


As for the streaming of all that I am doing, I just figured out there amongst the sea of dancing eyeballs would be some people cheering me on. I also know that Google is NSA and Google owns YouTube. They could shut down the feeds but organizations seeing things our way already are sending all this shit across the Internet. The NSA and the CIA can’t block out everything.


I ditched it among the smoldering bodies all over the bus. I made a run through all the shit just as my tank of air was exhausted. Still, I had my filtration that would remove some ninety-five or more percent of the toxic smoke.


I have to make it to the extraction point where those like me from the same military background of whatever we saw, did, hear, or told never happened. Nothing we could put on a resume — Bet that – would wait to get the hell out of here.


Chicago’s north side and western regions fell into our control and it is a matter of time before the east would fall as well. As far as the rest of my home state is concerned, we’re all as one. This, all of this right here, does my heart good saying that. It really does.


Then a Cobra Helo crossed over the cluttered street of burning cars and those inside. There is nothing I could do for any of them. My HUD said, it is one of ours as a sigh of relief came over me. I could see they had a lock on me and via the technology; they had me pegged as one of our own.

 
I know the gunship is giving us cover now. Yeah, there was more than just I alone as the others would be heading to the extraction point. As to the cold fact of how many of us were left?


I had no idea and again, something I couldn’t do about it anyway.

 
Shit, as I am double quick timing it I can see the Blackhawks coming in and the rotary cannons firing at some nearby trajectory as the Cobra fired two righteous missiles down on the location further ahead. Apparently, the CIA had more than just one team of “terrorists” for us to cherry pick them off at wholesale.

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As I am catching my breath and keeping from getting too brutal in my mind as it is literally racing with images from Desert Storm up to the present moment, the rest of the northern states like Wisconsin and their militia would sack anything in their way in opposition. Indiana is in flames as most of Indianapolis has fallen into positive control. I kind of feeling some remorse at any of the possible Federalist controlled strongholds face all those pissed off farmers – Not really.


My heart felt as it is at the top of my throat. Fuck, I remember my crisis mode. Go into crisis after neutralizing the primary and secondary objectives later. Yeah, that’s me. Now, I am not quite out of danger’s way but I am out of another danger close situation as more traffic from my own coms came alive. Thank god, I was getting close – Oh, I have to remind myself that I am, after all, an atheist.


The body suit of mine and all those like the one that I have acquired, has its own environmental built right in and this is a very good thing. My bio reading showed a core body temperature of 101 degrees. I know personally, I am good for 107 degrees. Yeah, that’s my personal best by the way. Even with the robotic type assist in the interior shell and with everything, I would not have been able to do anything close like I am able to do along with every other old-timer such as myself. This suit gave us old timers the strength of ten men. Now, the Federalists are keeping things interesting as they are sending several thousand of their best droids are way. Droids have a fault and soon, we would have positive control over them too. These droids, heavily armed and nearly unstoppable by ordinary civilians are about the equivalent to a speed bump to the A-10s that are already on the situation in Indiana’s Eastern region.

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Combat Ops had me pegged and broke through signaling me for a complete SitRep, I have a good enough signal as I sent the heavily encrypted data their way. They would all have what I saw and done thus far. Yeah, just like the net was seeing except my name, rank, social, and bio information.


I continued at a slower pace as others were sending their SitReps into Command. By the sounds of it, we lost half of the teams but in spite of this shit, we still came up on top as two F-15 Silent Eagles ripped the sky apart over my head coming from the west – They are our birds. You see, let me tell you, good folks, something. The F-15s never lost in a firefight since the first making way back in 1973.


The American Government didn’t know what they had in a fourth generation bird modified a good many times to be fifth-gen at best. Still, we now own the skies – F-35s and those fucked up F-22s left were like shooting fish in the barrel so I was told. The Federalists and their Military Industrial Complex spent hundreds of billions of dollars on such bullshit that is desperately falling short in their propagandized media blitz. By the time the Federalists tried to order the squadrons of B-2’s, well it was too late for them as we broke their hearts by blowing every one of that two-hundred-billion a pop went up in flames. Kind of ironic though, I mean seeing our acquired B-1 bombers doing the destroying from Ellsworth, Air Force Base just outside Rapid City, South Dakota.


There are many drones still up in the air in the east and no matter what they throw at us, we’re going to take down. You see, the Federal Neocons fucked up and put too much faith into technology rather than the human mind. Most of the Generals and Admirals bailed from the Corporate-Controlled Government and are now leading our side both strategically as well as tactical operations like the mission I am on. Those that didn’t make have got ass-fucked at the fall of the Pentagon and assault on D.C.


Keeping our cool and all moving east here in South Chicago can see another episode of swatting the drones out of the sky above us. The proof is in the sky above us and check out our F-16s now way above us with their cannons locking in. Hey, those little dark spots you are seeing up there are drones coming to an abrupt end.

skulls


No matter the Feds say in their propaganda, the reality is the fact we Constitutionalists have the civilian supported majority and the military on our side all focused on bringing down the corrupted powers that remain. Oh yeah, we definitely have the upper hand.


South Chicago suffered enough and with this latest False-Flag thrown at the good folks here, well, once again, more and more people are seeing things, waking up to things our way.


Maneuvering through the streets, I can see a few civilians coming forth onto the streets and cheering me on. Just about the time, I thought I am coming a hero and celebrity came up a heavily armored transport vehicle to pick me up moving slowly through the cheering crowd.


Tits, this is the end of the show right here for me. You can roll the fucking credits on the mission it’s a wrap. Now the sad thing apart of the Feds setting off the bomb and succeeding killing an untold amount of people about all of this is the fact that it’s my last mission. As I am loading myself into the vehicle and can see some familiar smiling faces as I too took off my helmet. Yeah, all of us look like we have had one hell of a day. Some of the remaining looked like the sorry end of a short stick. I fared better as I took a seat.


Before I know it, I will be back with my family in the Black Hills of South Dakota as more troops and those younger come in filling our big shoes. I know a couple of things, these kids are on the fast track in their military career, and the fall of the Feds is indeed coming soon.


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A Taste from; The Many Unnatural Lives of Scott Solomon Dean

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“We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow.”
Ted Bundy



    “There are real monsters in this life but they are not out there in the darkness somewhere just out of eyesight. The real monsters are sitting right next to you smiling and laughing the whole time they are thinking on how many ways they wish to kill you. The real monsters are entwined in the society of humanity since the dawn of time.”
Raven Blackstone



    “I knew there was something odd with me when I was a small child. Other kids would not have nothing to do with me. It would come to me in just a short few years that I thought I had a monster within me. Then at true revelation struck me, damn, I’m the demon within. I accepted, embraced, and loved my bloodthirsty insatiable appetites upon all I would cross without care or reason.”
Brandon “The Worm” Reed



    “I lost my virginity while inside a woman and then immediately starting killing her. As I was doing so, I realized there are far greater pleasures than sex could ever offer me. I simply followed my strong urges. I became a god over who lives and who dies.”
Johnathan Knepp



Introduction

Standing upon Mount Moriah are two men, both wearing their white hard hats and their matching Corp of Engineers shirts. The oldest in silver hair and sharp blue eyes is rolling up the overall plans of a major project. Behind them a small surveying crew doing their work just out of earshot of the two.
    

“So, you’re on board with the plan or what?” The older said snidely.
    

The younger man looking rather pale from this immoral plan. “Yeah, you actually want me to go with that? You want to only move the headstones and leave the rotted bones right where they’re at?”
    

The older man turned to face the younger, “Listen slick, it isn’t like your goddamned grandmother is among the dead buried down there with all the other whores. Mount Moriah Cemetery is just some fucking forgotten place in the annals of local history, superstition, and any other redneck beliefs. The goddamned rotting bodies stay right where they’re at and we’ll move the stones to the new location.”

The older man paused only for a second. “If you can’t be a part of this, then you’re off the team. Besides, you like being married to my daughter, don’t you?” It is nothing less than a viable threat.


“Frenchy, what are you gonna do, take my wife way from me if I don’t agree to this unspeakable bullshit of yours?”
    

“Taking away? No, I was thinking more along the lines of her being a widow. Accidents happen all the fucking time, Bob.  This is a huge project, you may find yourself prone to one such fatality or something.” Frenchy paused with a determined grin froth with rage painted upon his otherwise, white face.

“Look, I brought you on so that it would help you both financially and making a goddamned man out of you. This would be the first big project you have ever been on. I won’t allow you to fuck things up here – too much riding on this – too much money to be had wasting it on bullshit. The getting is good, so for god sakes, pull your head out of your ass and join the team or you can be lying face down with those there at Mount Moriah Cemetery in an unmarked grave all covered by three feet of crushed rock and gravel with another two feet of reinforced concrete. Go along with my plans or simply be a result of an accident. Hell, I’ll even dig the grave with the traditional six feet of earth for you Bob. Now how would that be?” Frenchy’s eyes looked like two slits of rage.
    

“So, what’s it gonna be, Bob? I don’t have all fucking day goddamn it. Make up your mind now you fucking cocksucker.”
    

Bob Weber browbeat and threatened by his own father-in-law wiped the sweat off of his own brow with his white handkerchief. “Okay, all right, I’m in.” Bob looked up to his father-in-law shaking his head affirmatively.
    

“Well alright then…” Frenchy then put his hand on Weber’s shoulder and whispered in Bob’s ear. “And if I catch your prick in another woman or that boyfriend of yours, I’ll kill you myself and I’ll put your body down a hole that no one shall ever find – not even God could find you.”
    

Weber stunned in the realization that Frenchy is already well aware of his two affairs also shook his head affirmatively in both overwhelming shame and wonderment.
    

“Good then, I won’t have to bury them next to your grave down there where the new outer parking lot will be,” Frenchy smiled ever so coldly as he removed his firm grip on Weber’s shoulder.
    

“Fly right, son, and we’ll both be fucking rich. You’ll see.” Frenchy turned away and walked up to his white air-conditioned pickup truck then driving away from the scene.  

Weber watched him go and realizing that no matter what and how he personally felt, his father-in-law had him under Frenchy’s thumb, and there would be no way of getting out from under it.

Then like a bolt of lightning, a though entered his mind, “Accidents happen all the time on major worksites. My fucking father-in-law could easily be an accidental casualty.” A smile broke across Weber’s face.

The massive construction of the Whispering Pines Sanitarium with its own super-max facility will begin shortly after the transfer of the headstones and all things above ground belonging to the Mount Moriah Cemetery. These opportunities will afford Weber the chance to not only get out from under Frenchy’s thumb, but to shatter it completely.


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Grimstalker

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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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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.

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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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“There are always those that say hindsight is twenty-twenty. In my life this is not true in the least. My hindsight is in all truth, a bit fuzzy, distorted, and, at times, based upon actual events. Fortunate for you that this account is in all things, grimly true. The story yet to unfold is contritely factual, and for me, it is crystal clear. For those that cannot stomach strong adult content – Exit doors are on the left and let us who are adults continue unabated and uninterrupted. I, we, thank you in advance…

It is strange on how a broken mind such as my own works. I can certainly remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, cannot remember names of people for shit, and some memories well, should be better off left alone in the boggy swamp of my mind. Some memories are so clear to me that it really does seem like it recently happened – like yesterday so it were.”  Excerpt from “Cracked Actor.”