Ghost Rider After Sturgis

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Yes once again, the Sturgis Rally has descended upon the Black Hills of South Dakota and Wyoming.

In the past years I have discussed the mortality rates and the demographics of those involved in deadly accidents. This morbid but fascinating at least to me, shows just how dangerous the Baby-Boomers are wreaking havoc nocking each other off the roads in a domino effect – This is still going on and getting worse all the time. The experienced motorcycle rider already has the daunting task of the worry of vehicles and natural wildlife to look out for. Now this is compounded by the elderly on the rent-a-bikes industry.

This year I want to talk about something that truly has been bothering me since I moved out here some 11 years and that is how the local businesses including hotels, casinos, covenant stores, and bars escalate, inflate, fleece, to include robbery on these poor saps from out of state.

It’s a feeding frenzy where the average room at a normal hotel is anywhere between $35.00 a night to $45.00 a night. However, during bike week, you are looking at an average of $265.00 a night and some places a lot more. A bottle of beer is now $7.50 and the blood-sucking leeches at the Buffalo Chip will drain you dry. I think most people have seen a reality show of the antics of the Buffalo Chip – Fucking pathetic.

Then there are those who lease their homes out to bikers for the entire duration. This is something that the bikers and the homeowner both benefit from. Even the campgrounds rates are so jacked up you would be thinking you would be purchasing property rather than renting space – empty space. Pitching a tent just anywhere is against the law and strongly enforced. Fines, patrols, and law enforcement are out to get fresh out of state funds from the idiots who don’t know how to obey the speed limits or the rules.

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I have no tolerance for idiots breaking the traffic laws. They are usually the ones making a fresh grease mark on the pavement when it is all said and done. I will say this much, local people to include local female drivers are showing more road-rage than ever before towards these assholes who think they own the road.

That’s the fucking problem right there, those idiots who think they’re kings of the road. I watched a woman scold a biker calling his old ass every name in the book. Legally, she was in the right and once again the Baby-Boomer was in the wrong. Though through these last couple of years, the road rage has increased dramatically. Not all can be at the fault of the bikers by any means. Nor am I saying all bikers are assholes and idiots.

So, with the fleecing bit. Well, the bikers are not as slow-minded as some would suspect. They know when they are getting fucked. Tired of the fleecing, the majority of bikers this year are out here a week earlier and leave a day or two when the Rally officially starts.

Some are planning to come out here after a week or so when the Rally is over. I cannot blame them a bit. Though, I have noticed that the local businesses and other highway robbers are following suite in jacking up prices in advance and keeping these rates jacked a week or two afterwards. So, who are the ones really getting fucked besides the bikers?

The local folks – we all get fucked!

You might think that Deadwood and the rest of Lawrence County makes a lot of money because of the gaming alone. You would be wrong. The money is the second biggest export out of here heading to Sioux Falls, the baking cartel and good old Uncle Sam in Pierre, SD.

Most of us in Old School Math where 2 plus 2 equals 4 might have had this on one of your math test questions;

“If Johnny had one red apple and he wanted to share his apple equally with his girl, Betty, then, how many pieces would Johnny have to make?”

Answer; 3 equal pieces or Johnny would have to cut the apple in thirds.

Why?

Glad you asked; Uncle Sam has to get his cut too!

Lawrence County is the poorest county out of the entire state excluding the reservations like Wounded Knee of course.

Thanks for reading and for the new kids with the new math. Listen, it won’t do you a bit of fucking good in the end.


Douglas S. Taylor

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September 2016 Edition

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DarcWorx Official September 2017 Cover designed by Douglas S. Taylor. For the main story of, “Boy In The Box” click here. This story is based upon Actual Events of my Childhood.

Yes indeed, summer is almost over for some of us. Though, with this climate change we’re all caught up in, some may think that this summer will never be over. However, it will and when it does, it will end abruptly according the the scientific community in this field.

So, they are saying that the changes of the four seasons will be not a gradual thing like it was for a couple of 5 millenniums. Have you not already experience this for yourselves?

You probably have.

Let me explain from my experience this year alone. I am a natural weatherman and human barometer that can read the sky, the breeze in the air, and the actions or lack of in nature around me. You know the deal when your quietly walking through the woods and all the animals grow silent. Now, if you are like me, I don’t make a sound going through my forest here in the Black Hills. In fact, I don’t have to walk in the woods to know that something is amiss or unusual. I can read the forest around me while I am sitting here at my home office.

Lucky me…

Now back to the climate itself. In the tail end of June, it grew to a record hot spell of 40 Celsius and that is 104 degrees F. I always preferred the metric system over the arcane and non-world standard of Imperial measurements. I am also a big fan of the 24 hour time keeping since I was taught this in my earliest days in the United States Air Force – Yeah, I am really a decorated veteran too.

So, the hot week in which for years previously would run through Mid August during the dreadful “Sturgis Week.” This is where we used to get our highs in humidity and seasonal highs in temperatures. Though, this year, completely different. Winter abruptly went into Spring, as did Summer. As far as Autumn is concerned, it is already here with temperatures ranging from, 16.6 Celsius to 21.1 and that is like from 62 to 70 degrees.

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I went down the high peaks here in Lead, South Dakota to speak with the Tribal Elders and they booked me an appointment with the Village Witchdoctor who gave me his prediction about the 2016 – 2017 Winter conditions to expect. He rolled some bones and took a reading through his tea leaves. Moments later, the fucker said that, “It will be bitterly cold with less precipitation. Meaning a lot less natural snow.” I asked him what his version or understanding of the word, “bitter…” He told me like — 28.8 Celsius and that comes right around – 20 F. Since I am from the “Darclands” far to the north, this is just balmy weather. For others, people up here will be crying buckets.

One thing you can be certain about is the fact that weather measured over tens of thousands of years is constantly in a smooth ebb and flow of things. Taking measurements of hundreds of thousands of years shows that Earth has been in one hell of a range of temps and such. This is long before the Industrial Age. I mean, the weather in some not so distant paths shows that the weather changed so abruptly that entire species of animals were literally stopped dead in their tracks. Mammoths, Mastodons, and entire herds of Deer caught in a vortex from the wrath of weather either triggered from natural events long before we all got up and running.

Hey, everyone today likes to blame mankind for mucking things up. With the Chemtrails and other weather modification methods are certainly fucking it all up pretty damned good. However, the Sun, like all things in nature works on cycles. Right now, the sun has been getting hotter the last couple of years. The stronger solar flares with the blasts of solar winds drive away the clouds because the solar winds are much stronger that any other cloud forming waves and winds of deeper space – Look, just Google these facts and get to know the real deal.

In essence if the Earth was void of mankind, right now, the world would be getting warmer because of the factor of the solar cycles. Would it be as drastic without mankind?

I think not. I believe it would be less of an incline of hotter temperatures, but the end result would eventually happen before it would become cooler. We just expedite things with the not-so high tech weather war between Russia, China, and mainly the United States Empire. Yeah, you can Google that yourselves too.

I digress…

One thing is for sure, Halloween is coming upon us, and in this, my faith will be restored as the Great Pumpkin will raise his huge orange head while Sally is on all of her fours is begging like a bitch in heat as Linus is balling her raw in the pumpkin patch as Snoopy is in a serious dogfight with the notorious Red Baron…

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If I had a religion to pick, I guess my beliefs would be on the Great Pumpkin because it would feed a lot of people.

I would also like to add a thing about belief systems – Not the usual hypocrisies of Theisms but that of the lesser.

Witchcraft is not a religion. You practice witchcraft good or bad. Nevertheless, there is a strong measure of belief in it. However, it was never intended to be a religion. Pagans, which are either practicing Witchcraft or not have their own religious or superstitious beliefs. 

Witches – Yeah, I love witches, don’t get me wrong. I can lick a dozen in a New York Second in my woods. I have casted some serious spells upon those ever so lucky enough causing them an uncontrollable protein spill of precious body fluids with my tongue alone.

And on that humorous note I’ll end it all here.

Thanks for reading,

Douglas S. Taylor

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The Boy in the Box — Brazen Edition

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For Annette Vecellio, Joseph Mobley, Kelly Forward, and Laura J. Taylor

And to all who have been bitterly abused but has chosen not to become the monsters in a maddening world shunned by society.

We are more than survivors but as warriors.

Another man walks into the den of such devastating violence that just took place some time before his arrival as he folded up his Deadwood Police ID to be allowed just moments ago by two peeked cops on the front porch of the residence and steps ever so carefully towards the opus of unmentionable vehemence.

There across the other side of what would have been a deco kitchen is a mountain of a man wearing his long coat with huge shoulders that one may describe as being in two time zones belonging to a man sculpted by the very hand of god with the most hardened granite ever known to mankind looking at the smaller man.

“Be of great care when you come in here. There are so much goddamned blood and shit in here.” To the smaller detective, all of what he is seeing looks like a savage animal, perhaps a Grizzly Bear or an African Lion came literally in an unfathomable rage.

The younger detective took his care fighting off the shock and awe of the crime scene unfolding before him while missing the splatters, pools of coagulating blood in the obvious arduous process.

The older and bigger detective began to talk as his voice drowned out other below the kitchen and from those behind him. “You know that little boy that has been locked away in a fucking box in a locked closet down there in that damp basement. Looks and smells like fifty shades of hell. He’s been in his own mess for days on end. However, he got a hold of a steak knife and cut a new doorway through what remains his mother’s underage boyfriend.” The large and powerful man by the name of, Special Detective Stone Phillips stated in a voice that sounds more akin to five miles of a crushed gravel road.

Stone rubbed the bottom of his freshly shaven square chin of his rugged face His dark blue eyes smoldering then flashed about the kitchen as he lit up a cigarette.

“Feels like I need a little something stronger than this, wouldn’t you say?” Stone flicked his stainless zippo and put it back in his pocket as he exhaled watching his smoke cloud up around the single ceiling light above.

“I can see you ain’t quite used to the smell of all this fucking blood, are you?” He looked down at a much smaller man wearing wire titanium bifocals also dressed as sharply as Stone stood looming over him.

“So much fucking blood you can smell the goddamn iron, the metal in it all. When you begin to get used to all of this shit, then it’s time to get the fuck out of this cursed job and maybe find something in retail or something.” Phillips drew in another deep hit off of his cigarette and chuckled at his own comment.

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The two standing there with the cellar door open and the Deadwood CSI Team hard at work as two street officers bent over the front porch splashing vomit on the cold concrete driveway from what they saw.

“Can’t really blame them. The two cops on the porch.” Stone reached into his long tan coat and pulled out a small jar of Vic’s and opened the lid from the jar.

“Just a dab under the nose will help you. Go ahead.” The other detective, a detective known as Joseph Mobley who is the very same that headlined most of South Dakota’s newspapers started out as a beat cop until the night that the entire world would turn for him.

Mobley working off a vague at best, caller of the possible address of Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez, the notorious rapist, and on occasion, a Meth Cooker, not to mention,  a real low-life scumbag. Geronimo was someone that was protected in many ways by the feds since he became a snitch for them. Ratting out those involved in the meth trafficking in the region by the Banditos in order to keep his stinking hide from doing a life sentence at Yankton. The local and regional law enforcement in the past were persuaded by the FBI that the scumbag was off limits.

In Officer’s Joseph Mobley’s mind, this new information on an otherwise thwarted case by the protection of the FBI kept the local law guessing on these rapes and murders that led the public citizenry in the discovery first hand who were finding the mutilated and mangled underage female bodies all over town in dumpsters, just off of park trails, and belly up along Elk Creek. 

In the minds of a few to include, at the time, police officer Joe Mobley, this “Hump, and Dump Killer” as the locals dubbed. A murderous pedophile that needed to be brought down like the rabid animal this predator desperately demanded.

With the new information given, Officer Mobley came upon the house in the middle of the night knowing that this is indeed the home of what they bikers called this monster as, “Harley.” More like Harley the fucking Snitch Rat Bastard. Joseph caught some noise from inside as some young girl was begging  Geronimo to stop raping her as she cried.

In this fact alone, gave Joseph more than enough cause to bust down the front door with his weapon and light above the aim of the barrel, Mobley continued in a pitch-dark living room. It would be in Geronimo’s wretched bedroom that Mobley would find the scum raping the naked blonde girl. Probably just another typical girl that may have run away from home and made it into the grip of the biker gang to prostitute in drugs and money. Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez  would end up getting new trim in trade for his trafficking deals, Besides, all the girls murdered were not from around Lawrence County. The scene with her spread eagle and pinned down by this monster was more than Joseph Mobley could stand even if it meant his job.

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Geronimo turned up looking into the blinding light as he pulled out of the young girl. That was enough for Officer Mobley. Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez  flinched in saying that whoever was on the other end of the flashlight blinding him in the act. Rodriguez yelled that he is a “…protected man.”

Joseph only answered back with his standard issue semi-automatic by emptying his firearm, a standard Glock-9 that didn’t do too much good at first Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez was jacked on Meth. Though every shot Mobley made was fatal in its own right to the heart, chest, throat, and finally a double-tap brought this insane animal down. An entire clip and in a flash, Mobley loaded up a fresh magazine and took a filthy blanket off the bed so the girl can cover up herself as he instructed her to go outside and asked her is there were any others like her among them in the house. Mobley would find three additional underage girls ranging from about nine to fourteen in age naked and shivering in the cold left to piss and shit in a goddamned bucket up in the attic. They were understandably terrified.

Everything else became a blur to him, the “Hump, and Dump Killer” was brought to a deserving end. On Mobley’s way back down with the children holding hands in a human chain. Mobley radioed for an ambulance and backup to come at once. The neighbors around the low-life awoke and two women brought coving for the naked and heavily abused girls. Joseph seeing that the girls were momentarily being looked after went back into the house alone and carefully entered the bedroom where Geronimo Juarez Rodriguez’s limp body rested. Joseph dumped two more shots in the back of good old, Geronimo for good measure.

As for Officer Mobley,  he was promoted to detective first class and would be working on cases now and again with Special Detective Stone Phillips. As for Joseph, he didn’t mind at all working alongside Stone with years of street knowledge from his days in Chicago’s notorious South Side.

“Thanks, Stone.”

“Sure, Mobley, not a problem. But…” With Stone’s right hand holding the burning cigarette in between his fingers, “Look on the wall there behind you and notice that strange carving?”

Joseph turned and noticed a bloody patch running down the carnation pink wall drawing closer to it.

“What the fuck is that?!?” Mobley nearly shrieked and realizing it is made of bone turned to face Stone Phillips.

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“The little boy is a fucking Michael Angelo with knives. Who knew? Not with a steak knife, mind you. The paring knife, a butcher’s blade, and the fucking very steak knife itself that he used in freeing his escape is all there in the sink filled with bleach and water.”

“But what in the fuck is that?” Mobley asked drawing for his own cigarette.

“The sculpture is of human bone from what we can tell is from his mother’s missing sternum. Oh, she’s gutted in the bath tube over there in the only bathroom in this house.” Stone pointed in the direction.

Mobley can clearly see that there is a CSI personnel in the bathroom as their shadows danced off the yellow door and the white wall of the room itself.

“I think I’ll skip that part.”

“Quite a masterpiece the boy did on her. I can tell you that Mobley. That up there, so I’m told by Doctor Annette Vecellio, she says it is some kind of tribal design of a devil or some kind of demon. She told me that the young boy says it is his friend? Yeah, I know, right?”

Detective Mobley just shook his head in stricken awe as a police photographer is a shade south of pale as his eyes wide open to this oeuvre of murderous mania played out through the illustrations of smeared blood made by the boy’s small hands.

Mobley is trying desperately to get his mind around the fact that this, all this malevolence was created by the hands of a young child.

“Hey, Jimbo…” Stone snapped.

The police photographer turned to Phillips, “Yeah, Chief?”

“Take a good photo of that up there on the wall for me, would you?”

“Certainly…” The police photography took the shot as Stone and Joseph standing there noticing that Jimbo is heading for the front door for some much needed fresh air.

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“Tell me Stone. How did this all go down?” Mobley asked.

“Well…” There is a spark of light cutting across Stone’s dark eyes and pointing down the cellar, “CSI will fucking confirm what I already know. The little seven-year-old –” Stone is cut off by Mobley.

“Seven? Just seven did all of this shit? Fucking seven?”

“I know, right? Besides the kid is standing about so high…” Stone motioned the height with his left hand. “Yeah, about that high and weight about 65 pounds soaking wet in his mess. Doctor Vecellio made him change his clothing and helped to clean up the entrails and saturated encrusted shit and piss for days he was wearing. God fucking insane. Let me tell you something, my friend. This shit is what makes good people wonder if there is even a fucking god in the first goddamned place…” Stone’s voice lowered as he continued.

“You know, Joe, there are places for the likes of the good doctor in some sort of a pleasant afterlife…” Stone’s voice faded once more.

Detective Mobley nodded in agreement as he took in the entire crime scene of the kitchen area as Stone went on.

“The child, Dougray Scott was obviously tormented for god knows how fucking long, managed to stash a knife, that steak knife in the sink in fact. He used the weapon he concealed on him knowing his fucking bitch mother and her stunted boyfriend would go and lock him up – What they didn’t know, it would be the fucking last time as you can see.”

“How in the fuck did these monsters get away with it all along in this day and age?” Joe glared up at Stone.

“That is a question that I can easily answer. To cover up the screaming and such, they would turn that radio down there loud to cover up the hell going on in that fucking trunk.” Stone paused.

“God knows how long he would be confined like that with no answers to his screams and sufferings.” Stone growing a bit angry as anyone would then continued.

“Then the boy must have picked the lock and with all of his might, snapped the latches, picked the closet door, and threw that radio against the wall in pieces. That is what brought the fucking idiot down the stairs, turned on the light below to find Dougray wielding a knife and gutted on Michael Anthony Glenn.”

“You mean to say, this Dougray Scott did all that I’m seeing with a single fucking steak knife?”

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“Yeah for the most part downstairs, and by the looks of things, a few years of pent up seething rage with about a gallon of pure adrenaline and a demand for a pound of flesh and then some. I cannot fucking blame the little lad one fucking second for…” Stone grew quiet for another moment as Mobley hung on to every word.

“Retribution, retaliation, revenge, all wrapped up in such a tiny malnourished boy. His mother…” Stone took a moment.

“As you can see by the bloody footprints of the young lad came right up the steps and kicked the door ajar nearly shattering it off the hinges as you can see.”

“My god…” Mobley’s mind is playing out the scene that happened over the course of a couple of hours earlier.

“Seems mother on her meth-binge came running right into a buzz saw of sheer animalistic rage. Dougray Scott snapped under all this hideous shit.  Now Dougray had the element of surprise totally on his side as he began with a killing blow and slashing effect upon his mother’s stinking neck. You can see there on the floor of her choking spasms of blood. The boy seeing this monster now lying nearly naked jumped over her body for something a little bit heavier to use on dear old mom. She was alive to see it coming and that there, my friend, is a fact.”

“Horrifying…” Joseph could see ever swing, every action being played out before them by the blood evidence alone.

“I don’t know if there is a word out there somewhere that aptly describes all of this…” Stone lit up another cigarette as he did before.

“He jumped over his moms?” Detective Mobley asked.

Stone in deep thought in a very dark place inside him if only for a moment and then turns around to face Mobley looking up at him. “Yeah, yes, he jumps over his mother and grabs the butcher’s blade because it is heavy. He knows he must have, must need something more brutal to get the job done. Dougray, he begins to dismember her arms and legs hacking away…” Stone shows with his right hand holding the cigarette up to the further wall and ceiling opposing the two detectives.

Stone went on breaking it all down,  “She is bleeding out as you can see and the effects of his unrelenting chopping and hacking. The floor here really tells the fucking story and make note of the arterial spray that looks more like morbid wings of some kind of hellish angel or something.” Stone allows Mobley to take it all in as he points to the morbidity of this inhumanity.

“Treat a boy, any person like this and you create a goddamned monster in your own right. Though this monster might be a seven-year-old boy, but you know the deal Mobley; it’s not how big the monster is, but how big the monster within that counts at the end of the day, and I am afraid based upon this blatant evidence that whatever carved a new doorway through that asshole down there is something much more of a monster that was running to meet him. And that too, my friend, is a fact” Stone grew silent once more.

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“Goddamn…” Mobley nearly whispered.

“Now, Dougray takes the Butcher’s blade and cloven his mother’s skull as you can see some of the gray matter all over the floor and the goddamned ceiling above over there. Hacking away he then began putting body parts in the bathtub. Really, she’s all kinds of fucked up. Quite the jigsaw if you ask me.” Stone barely grinned.

Detective Mobley just stood there as his eyes dancing as the entire gore played out in his mind.

“I know you’re seeing this in your mind, Joe. I just needed to point the way. Shit, you would have figured it out all on your lonesome given the facts as I did earlier from the CSI guys.” Stone takes another heavy drag.

“How did we come to know about all of this about the radio bit?” Mobley quipped.
“So glad you’ve asked, Joe. The next door neighbor by the name of, Kelly Forward said she heard screams and what sounded like a ‘rabid dog’ — her words. She came up to the kitchen window there and peeked in. What she saw would sear her mind like a white hot iron into her memory. It will never leave her what she saw. In this too is a natural fucking fact.”

“I fucking bet,” Joseph added.

“Misses Kelly Forward is down at the hospital being treated for shock. She said in her brief statement that sometimes these people play the radio downstairs now and then a little too loud. She has no knowledge of the boy other than she would see little Dougray Scott that would smile at her on seldom occasion.”

“What is going to happen to the kid?” Mobley asked again.

“Like what happens to most monsters his age. He’ll become a ward of the Whispering Pines Sanitarium, hence, the state up until he becomes of age. He’s got a long and bumpy road ahead of him with the so-called rehabilitation processes no doubt.”

“Damn…” Mobley looked down at his feet.

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“I had enough of this hell myself this evening. I got what I need and tomorrow I’ll get with Doctor Vecellio over some of that preliminary stuff. You can come along if you like. But, I think I hear the police chief coming up and all’s we need is another asshole in this stew. Besides, we did all we are going to do here. Let’s go have that fucking drink, Joe.”

The two walked out before the flashing red and blue lights and the shadows dancing in the reflections off the walls of the houses as the entire neighborhood is cluttering the street after allowing the two undercover cars leaving into the chilling night air.

Tomorrow is another day of a media blitz as the horrors come to light right under the very noses of the folks of Deadwood.


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