Category: Horror


 

/*

“Ichabod”

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/ichabod

 

Raymond rode into the sleepy village at the dawn of Friday. It was a dismal rainy morning fraught with muddied roads and green colored slimy walls of timber, grass, hay, and bamboo rooftops. It was nearing the time of the winter harvest feast. Albeit, the season hinted of cold and wetness, the early October morn, brought a tingled air of change. The big war was nearing completion with the announcement of freedom in these parts. Boston had seen the war up close…many of the young men had not returned as promised. Many young widows wept as they cradled young children to their bosoms. The townsfolk went about their daily routines as if nothing was happening in the world with the exception of what was occurring in this “Sleepy Hollow” of a burb just outside of ‘Boston, Massachusetts.’ The white settlers paid him no attention. The stares came from those who looked liked him. Black Slavery was still the law of the land even after the story and promise of freedom loomed across the horizon.

September twenty-second, eighteen-sixty-two, brought word of an “Emancipation Proclamation” from the president of these United States of America. Here, up North, the practice of slavery was kept on the down-low…it was a “hush-hush” kind of thing. Everyone knew who held slaves as well as those who didn’t. The same held true for those who supported slavery as well as those who did not. The majority of the white population supported the idea of abolition and freedom. The country was experiencing “Reconstruction” and it most certainly was a dangerous time for Blacks, free and not-free alike.

Raymond didn’t use his surname except when pressured to do so. In cases whereas he is questioned by people who didn’t look like him…he then used the name of “Raymond Mulvaney,” his slave name. Ramond was taught very well. His reading and writing would readily compare to that of a college professor or highly educated teacher of sorts. Not only did he master the English language through the tutelage of former owner, but through that of one “Ichabod Crane.” He was a wandering teacher roaming throughout the northern region of the country teaching for his lodgings and meals as he ventured forth.

On the shores of the “Hudson River,” many a Dutch navigator dropped sail and hunkered down to a pint and liquors at the nearby Inns of such places as this, “Tarry Town.” Thought to be one of the quietest places in the world, in a small valley not far from here, lies a listless repose of such a place known as “Sleepy Hollow.” It’s name arose from the housewives of the villagers in New York’s Tarry Town. It is described as the little valley in the high hills. On a typical day, one could only hear the murmurings of the small brook thereabouts with the wailing winds carrying the whistle of wild quail and the tapping of busy woodpeckers going about their business.
Twilight superstitions abound with tales of an old Indian Chief laying a curse upon the land because it was always used as the site for ‘Powwows’ and sacred rituals by the neighboring tribes along the valley. Many a settler in the region has boasted of hearing strange sounds, voices, and sometimes hauntingly musical rhythms of drums and fife along the way…especially during the harvest time of the season. The Dutch say it’s the “Hessian Soldier” who rides his black horse during the dead of night. They say that the soldier was killed during the revolutionary war. His head had been blown off by a cannonball while cannon-fire littered the land with the dead bodies of young and old soldiers fighting in the war. This particular horseman was said to have been protected by a witches spell. Commonly believed to be cursed by the ‘Old Indian Chief Wizard’ for the invasion of Indian land and the wide spread diseases brought by the European settlers that have decimated the land, annihilating his people. He, the Hessian Invader, is supposed to have immortality…if he was killed, he would become one of the undead walking the land…in his case, a “Headless Horseman.”
He is known to be in search of his missing head while riding through the night(s). Should a living soul be captured by the rider, he would forfeit his head for that of the one that went missing…and be back in his tomb before the break of day. This haunted hunting ritual occurred on a nightly basis if a captured head is disliked…and discarded for that of a replacement; until satisfied. Then the spectre would stay resting until the next season’s hunting expedition.

Raymond paid no mind to the tale as it was told to him by a young Black Woman who hungered for the knowledge he promised. They have all heard of this strange teacher named ‘Ichabod.’ They have all heard of the strange and hauntingly bizarre tales of his disappearance…his way with words and methodical manner in teaching techniques.

“Mr. Crane was a Connecticut native. He was exceedingly tall and lanky. His long arms hung down from his narrow shoulders with extra-long hands that hung way out of his sleeves. His big wide and long flat feet could readily be used for digging tools…shovels!
Atop his long skinny neck stood a small head. It was flat on top while entertaining large elephant-like ears. The over-sized orbs of glassy-green, sat on one side and the other, of a long corpulent and aquiline nose. The way they all sat together, one could not avoid in the mind’s image, that of a six-foot-four buzzard when striding down the road. On a windy day, a person could use him for a weather-vane, telling the direction of the wind in his baggy loose fitting clothing.
The building that was assigned to Ichabod in those days was an old, yet modest one-room school-house. It stood just inside of a tree-filled hillside along-side a calmingly boisterous brook on the outer edge of the village. In the summer time, that would be nearly the only noise that could be heard outside of the whistling bird-life and fluttering butterflies, and murmuring whispering voices of children about their studies. The winter times allowed no such sounds…only the wind and the Owls outside the windows and door. While it was (still) forbidden to teach the Black children, Ichabod found a way. Twilight was the perfect time to attend to those young ones…nine o’clock was the perfect time to attend to the ones of European descent (as well as avoiding the suspicions of the villagers). His not getting started prior to that time would infringe upon his ability to get or meet the morning meals offered throughout the growing tiny village…after midnight, the older (Black) generation took advantage of the golden opportunity. All hoped and prayed that they would never, ever be exposed.

It appeared that Ichabod hardly slept. During the after school hours, he’d hang out with the local older boys, especially if they had friendly mothers, widowed mothers, and/or good-looking sisters and cousins. He made it his business to keep on the good side of his pupils for want and need of ample unlimited food and winter lodgings. He generally owned only the threads on his back and the leather around his feet. He did own the tired old nag of a horse that transported him around and about.

He helped out around the many farms in the village as well. These aids were afforded on the weekends when school was out. He had to feast on those days as well. Nearly everything was bartered for and traded in those days…money was very scarce.

Ichabod got along well with the church community as well. He sang and taught music lessons of various available instrumentation. They only had a few musical tools in the village; a flute/fife, a drum, a bugle, a violin, a guitar, a harmonica/harp, and a piano. He offered them singing lessons too. A lot of behinds were kissed in order to maintain the lavish lifestyle to which he had become accustomed…at least until it was time to move on to the next town, village, or sleepy hollow.

As funny-looking as he was, Ichabod had his pick of the village women…the young and not-so-young single ones as well as the widowed. Divorce was unheard of then. They all thought this man was worldly and well educated…as compared to the plentiful selection of dull, un-interesting, un-educated country bumpkins available around and about in this little “Sleepy Hollow.”

Ichabod is admired for his reading of books and knowledge of history and story-telling. He could recite poetry and quote ‘Shakespeare’ and ‘Aristotle.’ He was regarded as a man of many talents, wisdom, knowledge; a erudite.

The evening hours after work held an enjoyable time for the master teacher. The drinks continually poured while he lavished in abound the companionship of the local herdsmen and farmers. They too thought highly of him. Tales of darkness were often told during these visits with the village men. They liked to entertaining themselves with tales of horror and scariness over draughts and spirits before heading home…in the early thick darkness of the winter months.

“Phantoms, demons, and boogie-men” often were evaded by the entrance of morning…should one be fortunate enough in surviving the night and making it to then.

On one such night as described, Ichabod found favor in the eye of one of the young ladies during a church recital. The flowering young Miss was the betrothed of another. He was one of the young fellows who felt slighted by his young lady’s attentions and affection towards the skinny free-loading school teacher.
Ichabod paid little to no attention, the looming threat of this jilted lover. He was only seized upon the moment of infatuation and temptation; the soft and warm looking flesh of this tender morsel, so desperately desiring to be sampled and enjoyed.

“Oh foolish the heart toward the sex,” with the aid of his close friends, the jilted lover set into motion a plan that would end this so-called rivalry once and forever…

Ichabod not only savored the thought of making love to the young rich woman, all of eighteen years, he realized the possibilities of marrying into this, such an abundance of wealth. The patriarch was completely self-sufficient in his farmlands. He needed nor desired anything beyond its boundaries. His only happiness was the luxuriousness of his wealth and the broad spread of the treasures within the realm of his farmlands and stronghold.
Ichabod was enraptured while favoring the dream of having the cake and eating it too. The life style of this rich Dutch-like abode was of a man’s fancied dreams and final desires…along with the beautiful and desirable young maiden of the land.

The driving force that kept him afloat, the availability of courting many women…he became focused on only one…the only one who could fulfill his life of luxury and complete contentment was right before his eyes…he could see nothing else. He pondered the challenge of “how to win her…this prize among prizes?”

While Ichabod entertained the household with song and story, on that particular cold dark and damp winter evening in October…it was getting late, very late!

The jilted lover was once the “eye-apparent” of the rich and available young lady in question. He was the village hero who broke wild stallions, was the best in a bare knuckle fight, the strongest and most handsome man around for miles. All of the young ladies in the village admired and possibly adored him. He also only had eyes for one. It was almost certain that she would most certainly become his bride…without question or pause. That is, until this despicable interloper arrived in this fair shire.
No one dared challenge this formidable suiter for the fair young maiden’s affections…especially when his horse could readily be seen tethered at the household on Saturday and Sunday nights. He was formally welcomed and encouraged by the family as well as this beautiful and wholesome young woman.

…Until Ichabod came to call.

The jilted young rival did not wish it known, his plans for making this opponent to go completely away. The jilted lover sabotaged the school on numerous occasions. They caused the singing students and their master to be sickened with smoke inhalation when he and his friends stopped up the exhaust chimney at the school one evening. The school had been ransacked again and again in attempts to get rid of the schoolmaster; to scare him off. When it became apparent that Ichabod was not welcome in the shire because of the jilted lover’s anger, he was openly challenged and ridiculed at every turn. Ichabod couldn’t walk down the street in peace because the village gang would taunt him and call him filthy names while accusing him of free-loading. It also became apparent to the young lady in question as well of what was transpiring against Ichabod.

One afternoon, the scholars were all busy with their books and lessons while the schoolmaster sat atop his lofty teaching stool which allowed him to gaze over the entire room and beyond the window panes. The classroom was all a buzz when suddenly a horse and rider appeared. When it got close enough to identify, the ragged pony bore to weight, a small but wiry old Black Man.
The man got off his horse and clambered up the stoops of the schoolhouse, knocking upon the outer door. Ichabod motioned for one of the children to open it, allowing the gentleman entry into the classroom. When he entered, the Black Man greeted the familiar schoolmaster with a warm smile and handed him the note he held in his right hand while the left held his hat.
The man bid Ichabod farewell and departed the same way as he arrived. Ichabod read the note and smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to make the party to which he was formerly invited. It was Friday…school was dismissed a half-hour early this day in anticipation to this evenings events.

Ichabod prepared himself as best he could. The lack of financial repose has managed to leave him with very little by way of wardrobe and formal attire. He brushed off an old black suit with frayed edges and cuffs. He washed the old beaten up boots he wore when traveling the country-side with boot-black. He borrowed that from one of the townsfolk he was residing with. His old brown horse was tired and dragging his ass like that of the old black plow horse to which he begged of the land lord. For some unknown reason it was called “Gunpowder.” He must have been some kind of a horse back-in-the-day because he looked at Ichabod like he wanted to eat him.

Riding Gunpowder was another game all its own. The saddle had burr holes in it, the under blanket was ragged and tattered with large holes and snags, and the shortened stirrups didn’t help either. His knees came up to his chest and punched him in the chin with every step the horse managed to gather.

The schoolmaster was indeed a sight to behold. He brushed off the laughter and whispering of the shire-folk who weren’t invited to the illustrious gathering. He lost himself in the wonders of the Autumn evening, its fragrances of the hillside, the fall colors of leaves falling from the trees, and the changing flowers along the way to the riches and abundance of the wealthy homestead. Could it be possible that he may become betrothed to the most beautiful and richest young lady in the valley?

“Oh what heavenly blessings await me.” he thought aloud. The horse simply clanked and clunked along the roadway. The thought of food came to mind…“oh what a full belly I’ll have tonight!” he smiled to himself as he arrived at the main gateway of the ranch.

The evening wore on with joyous laughter and revelry. The singing, eating, drinking, and dancing seemed like it would never end, going on for hours upon hours. At one point, the men all seemed to wander into another room in another section of the house. It held a massive fireplace with horns of dead animals hanging from the brick encrusted walls. The trophies told stories of bear, deer, moose, wild hogs, and a host of birds and fowl filling the void in between the larger displays.

The men all held large glasses of dark ruby red port and fine fat cigars that smoked up the opulence of the entire room. Everyone had a short story to tell. Some of them told of evil deeds while some told of good deeds and blessings of good news and prosperity.
Then there were those of haunting(s), witchcraft, and evil deviltry…

Several of the men told of Indian curses and demonic wizardry. Then it was the turn of the jilted lover to tell his tale. He told of the war and the blown off head of the Hessian soldier who rode a majestic black stallion. For some unknown reason, the hair on Ichabod’s neck began to stiffen and stand straight up. He began to feel the chill of the night even while standing quite closely to the roaring fire in the massive fireplace.

The jilted lover told of how he was chased by this headless apparition… He told of how the thing had almost caught him.

“If it wasn’t for the speed of my horse, I might not be sitting here discussing this tale with the likes of you fine gentlemen!”

He spoke of how the horse of the Hessian was upon his neck…so close that he could feel the hot fire-like breath of hell; the smelling of cinders and ash; hearing the bubbling of hellfire cauldrons boiling the liquid of death in its’ throat…eternal death. He spake of the Godless shrills made by the ghosted hunter in the black of night during this chase for life!

“I then felt the hand of the Hessian upon the collar of my shirt and coat. On my neck I could feel the bony hand of death as it clutched away at me! He laughed and screeched a death-dealing scream just as he lunged and missed for the last attempt. I ducked under the gripping clutching skeletal limbs covered in black garment as they left hot burning scratches…scarring my neck to this very day! Oh so lucky was I to get away with the God-sent speed of my gallant and trusted steed that I am here with you all this very day!” He said. The jilted lover wiped his sweating brow and slugged a large swallow of grog, chased with a splash of clear liquid spirits. He turned to Ichabod in a cold glassy death warning stare and said…
“Don’t go out into the blackness this night…t’was a night such as this that the headless horseman shall ride! It’ll take more than manly mettle to survive the race of death…the race with the death-dealing hunter of heads! Dare not venture into the night if you value your life!”

It was already nearing two-o’clock in the morning with light snow falling. The men all looked over their shoulders and saw the main house lights go dark. The families, many had already departed for home. The remaining company were all men…the men who indulged in the private cigar and port soirée…

Several of the remaining gentlemen shared their carriages with one another…the jilted lover had been gone for at least twenty minutes or more after bidding the hosts a fond goodnight. Ichabod was the only single man left at the doorway.
His horse was agitated beyond description. It simply did not want to go…they had to go…they had to venture out into the night as no good gentleman spends the night at the domicile of a virginal young and innocent lady. There were no extra rooms to be had or offered by the young woman’s parents, other family and guests had full occupancy of vacancies throughout the premises.

Ichabod reluctantly bade the family farewell and forced his trusted old steed out into the darkened wet and pitch-black night…the trip back into the village…back to the loneliness of the schoolhouse. The grog and spirits seemed to have vacated him. He was drunk from the consumption of wine, beer, food and spirits. He had consumed plenty…he thought, more than anyone there; left him void of happiness and contentment…the affects of the drink abandoned him. He was left to face the journey stone-cold sober and deathly afraid.

There was no music to hum to…he could not think of a single verse or rhyme to uplift his spirit for the long journey home. There was no sound of horse hoof pounding or the clattering wagon and cart wheels abounding forth from the farm towards the village. The blackened night was deathly silent. There was no sound of the owl or of any other fowl. No insect clicking or rustling leaves to be heard…anywhere. The falling of soft white snow flakes was the only sound to be heard, if any.

Just ahead, a short distance down the road, lay a covered bridge of oaks and chestnut, matted thickly together by old grape and wild vines. A cavernous gloom fell all around man and horse alike. Ichabod gave the frightened horse a bunch of kicks to the bony ribs of the horror frozen animal. Its’ eyes ablaze with the glaze of madness as it attempted to dash quickly across the scantly fashioned bridge. The horse instead missed the landing and fell short of the entrance-way of the ill-shaped bridge. They stood there frozen in disbelief as they scrambled up out of the thicket of bramble bush and muck alongside the makeshift crossing apparatus. They started forward once again. Then suddenly without warning the animal came to a complete stop. Its’ rider nearly fell forward off the front of the horses face, sprawling back into the muddy road surface. At that same moment, the large darkened shape and shadow of something caught the squinting eyes of Ichabod and his companion. The blackened thing did not move. It just stood there not making a sound. They couldn’t quite make out the shape as it towered like that of some misshapen behemoth waiting for orders to pounce upon any would be traveler seeking to cross this particular bridge. Summoning all of the inner courage and power left in his frightened body, Ichabod shouted out…

“Good evening my friend! Are you having difficulty in crossing such a bridge with such a large mount as yours?” He assumed it was a rider and horse when he heard the jet-black animal snort and stamp the ground with one of its’ front hooves.

The dark rider offered no reply.

Ichabod made another attempt at getting old Gunpowder to move forward onto the bridge. The attempt was almost futile. The horse would not move. The black rider’s horse made another move with the other hoof, striking the ground even harder than the previous gesture.

Then, with a mighty kick, the crestfallen schoolmaster urged his steed forward, nearly breaking a rid or two. The old horse moved reluctantly forward. They made sure to pass on the other side of the bridge so as not to make contact with the mysteriously huge rider and mount. Every hair on the man and animal stood erect, to needle-point attention. Ichabod began to sing. He didn’t know what song to sing, nor did he know what he was singing as he shut his eyes upon approaching the statuesque figure who now stood directly in the middle of the roadway.

Once it was realized the road was blocked, Ichabod and his trusty steed made a complete about face once they attempted to pass by the dark rider and his larger than life, black as night, muscular horse. They started out with a brisk and lively trot…the dark rider and horse matched their pace as they came ever closer. Then Ichabod and steed broke into a full gallop in a desperate attempt at breaking free of this unwanted shadow of a monster. They galloped as if their very lived depended on it! Realizing that they couldn’t outrun their unwanted company, they slowed to a quickened pace. The dark rider did the same…just a few yards behind. When they stopped, it stopped. When they moved forward, it also moved forward.
When they came upon a hilly rise in the roadway, they could easily see the full figure of the shadowed stranger and mount. The full figure of this traveling non-talker, came into view against the backdrop of light which bounced a reflection from upon the glaze of the creek water below. The rider was huge in stature as was his black full muscled steed. He and Gunpowder were no match for this large figure of a man without a head! They realized the horror stories were indeed true…true to life as they are witnessing up close and in living color! Ichabod could readily see that the black rider was actually carrying a head. It was perched upon the saddle-horn or the pommel of his saddle…what struck the most fear into the traveling duo was the fact that the head was alive…it’s widened eyes glared at them without uttering a single word!
Then the head screamed! It screamed such an un-Godly, un-Holy scream that it surely reached the heavens above…despite this cold dank and dangerous darkness of night.

Ichabod rained desperate blows and kicks upon Gunpowder in order to get him moving at a full and life saving gallop. He hoped to gain some distance between him and the headless Hessian…wishful thinking…to no avail. Ichabod’s terror continued to rise. His fright, now reaching beyond desperation, only imagining giving the stranger the slip when they reached a patch of shaded trees. Just before the green knoll of the churchyard, they crossed the famous church bridge. Ichabod’s trusted steed seemed to be possessed by a demon when they plunged headfirst into a downhill fall, giving the unskilled rider an apparent advantage during the chase, they rolled for a few feet and managed to get back upright into a very quick and steadfast gallop across the churchyard.
Just when they got halfway up and through the hollow, they could feel the girths of the saddle loosening. The straps gave way and slipped off. Ichabod had one chance to regain his grip and composure…he reached for the mane of his horse and grabbed him around the neck and hung on for dear life just as he felt the saddle slip away from under him. Slipping to one side and then the other, Ichabod managed to hang on. Hope arose as they saw and scrambled for an opening in the trees ahead.

“If we can just make the bridge on the other side of the church yard, we’ll be safe.” He thought aloud, shouting into the left ear of Gunpowder. Then the inevitable occurred, after he had given Gunpowder another convulsive kick in the ribs, he envisioned freedom and safety…it was not to be. The black stallion with its’ rider clearly in control, Ichabod could feel the hot breathe blowing down the back of his neck. He heard the black steed blowing and panting close behind them. Gunpowder thundered over the resounding planks of the wooden bridge. With an insane gesture of desperation, he peered over his left shoulder when they reached the opposite side of the bridge. They hoped their pursuer would vanish in a puff of smoke, maybe into a flash of fire and brimstone, simply disappearing into nothingness…it was not to be. Ichabod saw the rider raise over his head the screaming, mouth foaming and frothing face of the hobgoblin…it looked like, it appeared to be that of a real live pumpkin that was aflame…engulfed in the fires of hell. The rider raised the thing and tossed it directly at the head of Ichabod. He tried to duck, causing the head to miss him. The endeavor was pointless. The marksman hit his target with direct and precise precision… The flaming projectile made a direct hit. It hit Ichabod with a flashing and thunderous explosion as it splattered into a million pieces, knocking Gunpowder’s rider from his back and headlong into the muck and mire of the messy moor. Gunpowder continued his gallop to freedom with the black steed and its rider in hot pursuit. They passed Ichabod with the whirling speed of the wind.

The headless horseman returned to the spot were Ichabod lay in the mud. The monstrous black steed bellowed and raised up onto its hind legs, while the headless Hessian cracked a whirling black whip.

All of the villagers gathered at the schoolhouse the next morning in anticipation of the schoolmaster’s opening bell ringing. It was not to be heard on this morning. Gunpowder was in his stable, shaken and unnerved with many scratches on his hide. He wore no saddle or bridle straps…there was no blanket on his back either. No one knew of the whereabouts of the dear school teacher.

The townsfolk put forth a search. They found the ripped saddle and the broken bridle about a mile away from where hoof prints deeply set in the earth surrounding the remnants of a rather large and broken pumpkin. The brook was searched as was the entire area for miles around. The remains of Ichabod were nowhere to be found.

It’s been said that Ichabod simply kept running away and found refuge in the lands and homes of another church-like community. That was never proven. The jilted rival never hesitated in regaining his position in the household of his once betrothed. That knot was ties rather quickly after the assumed fate and disappearance of Ichabod Crane.

The tale of the headless Hessian only bloomed to a higher level of acceptance. No one ventured out alone at night ever again. The schoolhouse was deserted and soon fell into decayed rotting wood and fibre and mulch…only good for plant and crop composting.

Travelers came, visited, and passed through the lively out of the way shire, many have said that they’ve heard voices out on the moor and varied times of the season…some even said that they heard a voice that sounded like that of Ichabod singing in the distance. That remains to be seen.”

Raymond had just completed his story when a thunderous knock came upon the door, followed by the explosive entrance of angry townsfolk and “Slave Catchers!”

Raymond’s owner went missing one morning when the young slave was just reaching puberty. He was treated like that of many young male captives from Africa. He was whipped when he didn’t give in to the overseer on the plantation. He vowed that he would run the very next time that anyone laid a hand on him.

One winter morning, Raymond was out in the field working with the plantation owner. For some unforeseen reason he began to whip Raymond with a saddle whip… The slave master was out in the field working with his newly purchased wheat chopper/hay baling machine. The baling machine chopped grass, wheat, and hay for the farmer(s) (while being pulled by horses) and baled the material up as it passed over the stalks. Its a bit before its time, but a highly desirable farming tool. The last time the slave owner was seen was when he went to chasing Raymond while his new machine was running…it was found to be operating alone. There was no one running the damned thing…the plantation owner simply disappeared. The livestock that year appeared to be truly fattened and contented when they were gathered and brought in for examination.

Raymond was also nowhere to be found either.

Years later, Raymond was found up North, teaching at a college in New York City.

When Raymond returned to the South Carolina Plantation in an attempt to free all those he left behind upon his venturing into the strange new world. His successful adventures led him back to his people, in attempts at freeing them – mentally, physically, and spiritually, all over and across the country.

The townsfolk in the then tiny New England Territories, didn’t like uppity northern niggers to come around teaching their darkies how to read and write. They sighted Raymond, locked him up and many threatened to drag him out and lynch him in front of the courthouse for all to bare witness.

When his friends up north got wind of Raymond’s dilemma, they quickly scrambled, assembling everyone they knew that could and would venture southward in a rescue of their studious and illustrious Black friend, teacher, and colleague. Just before their arrival to the small and secretive village, the previous night proved them to be a bit late in the rescue attempt.

A small band of townsmen and their new found friends (the slave-catchers), managed to sneak Raymond out of the jailhouse. They had him roped and gagged when they dragged him into the waiting horse and wagon tethered out back of the jail. Little did they know, the “Law Keeper” in the village was alerted that two young children had not returned from the nine o’clock hayride. They were thirteen and fourteen year old white kids. The marshal was busy gathering a posse to search for the missing teens. Meanwhile, someone caught up to the hanging party and informed them of the missing kids. They were momentarily distracted from their mission. They all turned to listen to the news and alert when a few Black folk sneaked up and slashed the ropes on Raymond, freeing him in a swift swoop of the machete, the young teacher was set free. When the hangmen turned to find him gone, they froze like statues when they heard the un-Godly sound of a shrilling shriek. It seemed to be coming from all around them. No one could pinpoint the exact location or direction of the strange noise. It came closer and closer. The hangmen were suddenly all very terrified…they feared for their very lives as they all of a sudden realized that they were out on the moor in the dark of night.
A light flashed and vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The group of six men were suddenly bombarded with the splashing of bloody body parts. They couldn’t for the moment figure out what the gooey substances were. Then one of them realized that they were the body parts of the missing young white juveniles to whom the town was in search of. They all panicked and began to run back toward the village. They left behind the horses and wagon in which they had originally arrived. They all ran on foot as fast as they could. It did them no good…then the light appeared again along with the un-Godly screech and screaming! They found themselves under attack…the attacker could not be evaded. One by one, the hangmen all vanished into the dark moonless night of death and wanton destruction.

Raymond also heard the screams of death and the death-dealer as his horse galloped closer and closer to him and his escaping friends. The scared and running Raymond could not keep up with his rescuers as they all fled. He unthinkingly took a look back, tripped and fell into the ravine alongside the old church bridge. The monstrous spectre of the horseman was suddenly upon him… The over-sized blackened monster horse whined and raised up on its hind legs, towering over the hapless teacher…he saw the face and head of his mentor...It was Ichabod who sat upon the black stallion of the night!

As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.

The villagers reported sightings of the headless horseman in the distance that night. Many were in disbelief. They shrugged it all off and called it an old wives tale…a “Halloween Fantasy!”

Only the people who resided in that region knew that the horseman would return every year at this time. While Raymond remains alive and well, telling his version of the adventure of a lifetime…to all those who would listen and possibly believe.

 

End.

 

 

Til Next Time…

“G”

References and Acknowledgements:

Based upon a story by:

‘Mr. Washington Irving’
“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/LegSle.shtml

>

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’
~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-books-by-boulware
New BCID: 823-13940945
http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945
New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter”

“Academia”

https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

 

 

*/

 

 

 

 

 

 

#BlackThen #BlackAuthors #Boulware #BoulwareBooks #HBCU #ReadAloud #IndieBound #BlackWritersMuseum #onWURD #Halloween #ShortStory #BoulwarePublications #HarlemBookFair #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #BlackStoryTellers #Amazon #Facebook #TheWashingtonPost #MindTV #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #3rdEye #PaulRobeson #JamesBaldwin #AugustWilson #NativeTeams #NativeSpirits #NativeMediaNetwork #Books #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #Edited #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #WordPress #Blogger #BlogSpot #WordStream #RichardWright #PaulLaurenceDunbar #Berean #CCPedu #TempleU #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #AIVMI #TweetYourBooks #Published #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #Pinterest #Forbes #BBC #BBCNews #SOHOPress #VikingBooks #DoubledayBooks #Polymath #Erudite #People #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #HorridLore #PromoteHorror #NightmareOnFilmSt #Horror #HistoricMystery #StephenKing #DeanKoontz #RayBradbury #WilliamPeterBlatty #HGWells #JulesVerne #EdgarAllanPoe #ProjectedLetters

 

 

 

“FAIRMOUNT”

The Series:

The Willis Samuel Investigations

Part 8:

“A Reckoning Is A Coming”

By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

Part 8:
“A Reckoning Is A Coming”

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/fairmount-the-series-the-willis-samuel-investigations-part-8-a

“How am I supposed to feel when shit like this hits the fan nearly each and every fuckin day!?”  Samuel thought aloud while alone in his office…

“Damn, investigations; committees and committees over them. The senseless onslaught of killing continues. On top of all that, another law enforcement oversight committee is considering legislation measures that could bring police conduct under control.” Willis thought to himself as he sat down behind his large paper and file cluttered desk; in his large overstuffed high-backed leather chair.

Giancarlo Miller, a Black Congressman, made an announcement that made reference to or as “The Law Enforcement and Integrity Act” in the House of State Representatives the other day. The inclusion of one measure in ‘Philly’ would ensure the appointment of city commissioners with the approval of City Council and State House Reps.
The Chairman of the Black, Puerto Rican, Asian, and Hispanic/Latino Caucus in the state assembly, announced an upcoming meeting which will introduce new legislation to be known as “The Africanus Diallo Amani Law,” which analyses an outlines police reform(s) nationwide.
This new law would require city police to be bona-fide residents of the city in which they serve. The law also includes diversity training while removing the rule allowing officers not to speak about their actions forty (40) hours after a police involved event has occurred.

“The National Black Alliance Network,” headed by the Reverend Lemuel Sharsman, is also considering legislative measures…introducing legislation at local, state, and federal levels to “check all acts of police brutality across the nation, let alone here in our own city.”
One such act was committed by four white officers who are accused of brutality when they shot to death an unarmed Black Man in the doorway of his apartment building a little while back. Sharsman urged Black Legislators to understand that “Africa is their continent and that Africans in the United States who number more than five million in our city, would and will stand together to fight for justice against injustice and the “blind eye(s) that aids it!”
He also said that he was assured that ambassadors from African Nations such as “Sierra Leone,” in the U.S. will also join in the support for the fight for justice.

Everyone seemed to agree that the law would tackle problems like racial profiling, death while in police custody, and drug testing among other related issues.

Another endorsement came from the Reverend James Jackson Matthews. He is also the head of an organization involved in the struggle known as “The Southern Council For Civil Rights” (SCFCF). They want all of the participants in the struggle to completely understand that the “White Nation” views our fight for justice as some sort of a sport or game…a contest guaranteeing a difficult episode…guaranteeing that all players will surely come out soiled and dirty.
The killing of “Diallo Amani” has opened a massive golden window…an opportunity for people of color to make an effective demand for change as observed by another Black Congressman, ‘Owen Majors.’

“This killing – This brutal murder has united our people and people across racial and religious divides. This development should be used as a means of coming together – uniting us one and all in this intrepid yet indefatigable pursuit of justice!”

Congressman Majors continued to suggest that a week in April be declared “A Week of Outrage!” He says this action should be organized all across the country, bringing cities to their knees, making a very strong case for change.
The congressman reminded people of the 1992 beating of a Black Man…‘Rodney King.’ He was beaten by White Los Angeles Cops.

“Fifty-five people died protesting against a jury verdict that acquitted the cops involved in the attack which was captured on video tape…on film!
Did it matter? Did it matter to law enforcement? This beating…this shooting…this practice is simply only one part of a pattern of American authority designed to oppress Blackmen…to keep “Them/Us” in our place!”
The congressman cited figures and statistics backing up his statements. He said, at the same time that states across the country have reduced education budgets while increasing funds for the prison industry.

The trial of the acquitted cops was closely followed by people of color across the globe. The cops contended they all fired in self-defense after ‘Amani’ reached for what they said was a gun. The object in question was the young Man’s wallet. He was shot and struck by bullets more than nineteen times. It was reported that the young Black Man died in a barrage of forty-one bullets…police bullets!

Willis’s thoughts were interrupted with an unsuspecting knock upon the door.

“A nickel for your thoughts Captain? …I thought I’d up the anti from a penny.” Sally smiled, he didn’t.

“Just remembering some shit I’d like to forget.”

Sally replied, “I hear ya Bro. It’s like a bad dream that never goes away or stops biting on ya.”

Willis stood up and stretched. A man who was much larger than his visitor who weighed in at about one-hundred and sixty pounds sopping wet. Willis carried an older two-hundred and forty-two pounds – a healthy lean six foot individual floating around in his late fifties.

“I can’t get over this case of the African Brother who was killed by police…a case of pure over-kill.
This young brother simply believed this place was a place that he could come to and be free and safe…where police are your protector; your friend, where justice could be done.
This brother came from a place where human rights are constantly violated, arbitrary arrests and tortures are committed on a daily basis, extra judicial killings remain common placed, entire families often times disappear where many are never seen again.
The city had to put out big bucks in over-time when the marches and demonstrations took place…many people got hurt – Black People!
Amanis’ family seemed very appreciative for the support of the people – there was irony where the department was concerned though…they defended the exonerated cops who were responsible for the death while offering a half-baked apology!
His parents told Me of the shared dream of coming to America. Now he is remembered as a shy young man, devoted to his Mother and Father, his studies, his relatives, and friends.
Now, he is another symbol, a statistic of police brutality and/or racial stereotyping in the annals of justice, I should say non-justice.
His father said they will put tiles on his grave when they bury him next to his Grandfather in Africa. Y’know that man was the first man in his village of two-hundred people who made the trek to ‘Mecca.’ His mother and father told Me that when I visited. I couldn’t help but notice how close and tight the “Holy Qur’an” was held by his father.
I have gone over this event over and over again in my mind…I can’t get it out of my head; my heart and soul aches for him and all the other Young Black Men who have perished by the hands…the bullets of police in this country. But for the life of Me Sally, I simply can’t…the one major thing – the question that keeps coming back in my mind is why? Why shoot this kid over forty-one times? Sometimes Brother, it gets really hard to hold the line on where your loyalties should be...”Human Rights, Democracy, it’s for whites only – or at least for those with the means to afford it…being able to defend themselves whether innocent or being guilty as hell.”

“Yeah Cap, I feel ya.”

The Philadelphia Sunny Globe Newspaper Reporter, Salestion Michaels,  sat down in the chair in front of Willis’ desk with a large sigh of sadness and despair. His face darkened his high-brown-complection (some identify his skin color as “High-Yellow” or “Red-Bone”) with the weight of sorrow.

“I kind of hate to lay this on you Captain Samuel, especially at a time like this…”

The captain trained a listening eye on the newspaper reporter.

“It’s apparent that you haven’t been apprised…haven’t gotten the report, the call yet.” said Sally.

“Okay, spill it dude, I’ve got things to do…”

“Remember that ole’ case I was working on awhile back…the report that I did on the “Kelpians” and their society, the cult out in the “Chestnut Hill” area?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m here to tell ya, not only did the case not go away, it never resulted in a closing… The missing kids were never found. I never let the story go, I stayed on it even when it went cold…two more kids went missing. I got this just an hour ago. They vanished into thin air!
The kids were waiting at the school bus stop. They were waiting for the school bus to the “Y.M.C.A.‘s after school activities and programs. Their parents called ‘The Y’ to confirm their arrival, just like they’ve always done… The kids were not there. They did not check in! They weren’t on the bus…some of their classmates stated they saw them get into a blue Ford Maxi-van that had “YMCA” markings on it.
The ‘Y’ people said they have no such van…only the bus.

Where are these missing kids?”

Til Next Time…

“G”

#BoulwareBooks
Twitter
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash

Next:

Part 9:
“The Games Afoot!”

>

‘The Platforms of “Boulware Publications, Data Information, and Entertainment Enterprises”

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile

And

“Twitter”

https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

“Academia” https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware

*/

 

 

 

 

 

~ “The FAIRMOUNT Chronicles” ~
Uncensored: ‘The Willis Samuel Investigations’

*Chapters One Through Six

Without being redundant, before the year changes and introduces new and exciting events, I thought it fair to present to you, “Faithful Readers,” Here On The WordPress Network, the complete and un-Censored version of The Willis Samuel Investigations Saga in the “Full Tort Boogie ADVENTURE! ” – Chapters One through Three and Four through Six Package!

~ “FAIRMOUNT”: ‘The Willis Samuel Investigations!’-The Series ~
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

“Ironically Speaking!” (Intro):
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333148/ironically-speaking

A Rap Sheet: The Year 2013 – To Current…
“On the corner of 10th and Mifflin. One guy was pissed because he couldn’t get his car out of its’ parking space. Another patron’s car was double-parked, blocking him in. Mostly all of the South Philly residents were accustomed to this way of life. The average South Philadelphian didn’t blink an eye at the thought of not doing so. From Delaware Avenue to 25th Street and Snyder Avenue to Oregon Avenue was considered the zone for double parked cars.
If you were a member of the family’s business, you did whatever you wanted anyway. Made members were the elite in those particular neighborhoods. One could compare such a society to that of mob figures in New York. The South Philly Mobs were a force to be reckoned with.
When the old ‘Mustache Pete’s’ like ‘Angie-B’, ran things, there wasn’t a great deal of blood on the streets. There was only money to be made.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

*

“Mask Of The Crime Czar”
“It is late Winter in the year of 1990. Jason Parks is an ex-NYPD Detective turned Private Investigator… and he’s also a Drunk. There’s nothing new about this combination; it happens all too often in detective stories. The difference here is that, through a billion to one accident he has acquired certain abilities. The accident opens up a whole new set of frustrations and tests of his resolve while dragging his psyche nearly to the breaking point.
Coping with his altered life while wrestling with the dilemma of whether he should use his abilities to assist local law enforcement or mind his own business, fosters an internal debate that has him questioning just about every move he makes. There is also the local media that can’t make up its collective mind if he is a champion of Good or a force for Evil.
The trail to catch the Crime Czar in his quest to take over and run the Mobs in the city takes Jason from Philadelphia to New York City where he must dispose of the demons of his past there, then back to the City of Brotherly Love to forestall a bloodbath between the local Mob Boss and his challenger. The trail of deceit and betrayal, suspicion and lies, takes Jason from the skies to the ground and deep under it
Will Jason overcome: the frustration, accusations, mistrust and his own internal strife and self-doubt or will he: turn his back, wipe his hands clean of it all and walk away? Even he is not sure of the outcome.”

*

“So you’re telling me is all we needed is a ‘C-4’ pack and a couple of whirly-bird yahoos to dispose of this beast, is that right Mr. Agent?” Glenn wasn’t even looking at the man. He was looking at the hole and burn scene while his gazing glances took his focused view to the ledge above.
The bomb exploded with a thunderous Earth trembling boom… The flash and:

*

“When There’s No More Room In Hell”

The pedestrians and equestrians reveled in the park’s courses of pathways and trails throughout the region. Another favored entranceway into the grotto like valley was Mount Airy’s Cherokee Lane from Allens Lane near the Lincoln Drive. The wondrous beauty and mystery of Philly’s Fairmount Park was simply adored by all and who resided and those who visited. But just as much as it is alluring it was also a most deadly place as well.

My name is Salestian Michaels. I’m currently employed by the ‘Philadelphia Sunny Globe Newspaper Organization and International News Network.’ I was born and raised in South Philly, the heart and soul of ‘Mafiosi Life.’ Angel Brondidi and Nick the Needle ran it all when they weren’t at odds with one another.

I was there when Captain Willis Samuel and National Forestry Service Ranger Commander Gerald Glenn confronted and eradicated the monster beast in the park. I didn’t like Glenn very much, although I admired him. He was damn good at what he did. It was his woman that I liked…loved and wanted.

Yeah, she was something else. Genailia put the whammy on me at the zoo. She definitely whipped my ass in that booth. But man, just to get the opportunity to be near her, to feel her voluptuously warm and supple body and that magnificent ass close to mine…was worth it. I guess I really shouldn’t have grinded on her ass though. I thought she might like it. I was wrong. I’m still searching for a way to apologize. They’re somewhere up in the Yukon or Alaska nowadays. I do hope that she gets back this way.

I wasn’t happy with the hospital bills either.

The ‘Dungeon Queen’ case hasn’t come to trial yet. And the Fairmount Park Rapist case was never solved – it’s still wide open, soon to become a cold case.

There’s been some talk around town and throughout the buildings downtown of something else. Rather than the beast, although that story will remain on many lips for a long, long, time; another frightful occurrence screams for resolve. Apparently, ‘The Wissahickon Kelpius Society’ is being looked at. There appears to be some sort of mystery surrounding missing kids and some dark robed monks…of course I had to twist a few wrists and ring a couple of ears in order to get the case. Albeit, my curiosity abounds with the want of knowledge about these characters and the missing kids, I wanted to be paid for the research and story as well.

Paying close attention to the ‘scuttle-butt,’ gossip, and rumors about, I remember hearing something about an occultist and his group back in history class. It was something about George Washington and a mystic back in the 16th or 17th century. It was during, I think, the French-American and British war of the colonies. The old mansions in Germantown reflect upon the general’s visit along with the French leader, Lafayette.

The mansions along ‘The Great Road’ held a complete and authenticated history of events from back then.
What I do know up to this point is what has been said, stored, and recorded:

~ “The Battle of Germantown” occurred at the Cliveden Manor. “It was also the country home of Pa. Chief Justice Benjamin Chew. On October 4, 1777, a British regiment occupied Cliveden and defended it from full assaults by the Colonials. Over 70 soldiers died on these grounds. Although it was an American defeat, Washington’s bold strategy helped to win French aid for the cause of independence.” – “The First Protest Against Slavery was here in 1688, at the home of Tunes Kunders, an eloquent protest was written by a group of German Quakers. Signed by Pastorius and three others, it preceded by 92 years Pennsylvania’s passage of the nation’s first state abolition law.” ~

What began as a summer retreat, to a colonial landmark, became the site of a viciously nasty war, “The Battle of Germantown.” Many have wondered if this was an accident in history.
Cliveden Manor is a story of a colonial family, the servants, and its slaves.
Before William Penn and the Mayflower, the Native Americans lived on the land now known as the United States of America. Here in the northwest, the Philadelphia-Germantown area is where the Quakers settled to farm and establish businesses. They were mostly of German descent, hence the name Germantown.

This area was also a haven for runaway slaves. “The Underground Railroad” ran through this region of the country as well. There existed a number of “Safe-Houses” for escaped African-American Slaves (not known then as African Americans) such as, The Mennonite Meeting House and the Johnson House. The route to freedom for Black people often led to Canada, although a number of African descendants decided to settle in Germantown where they felt safe from persecution.
http://nomoreroominhellwhen.blogspot.com/
*
On day two of the group’s hunt, the skies cleared at 8:30 a.m. The group of rangers set out to follow a creek bed upstream looking for tracks…some sign.

“Damn Man…he’s a big mutha, ain’t he?” That was all that Willis was able to squawk.

“We’ve gotta bag his ass.”

‘FAIRMOUNT’

The beasts eyes…
“Suddenly, out of nowhere it lunged and snapped its jaws…another man was gone!”

“We were sitting there concentrating when, a few seconds later, he pops up right in front of us, about 10 yards away and he was coming toward us,” A tracker said. “I don’t know if the wind was in our favor or what. We were dressed in camouflage. It might not have seen us.”

“I put the scope on him. I wanted to hit him in the chest, but all I could see was nothing but head!”
https://www.createspace.com/pub/community/give.review.do?id=1129978&rewrite=true

>

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt.1)

~ “A Four Cornered Phling” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

“I should not have been born… I was supposed to be aborted. Now see what you’ve done. You’ve allowed me to come of age and become the monster that I am…”

Detective Willis Samuel of the Philadelphia Police Department recalled something…someone…somewhere, not long ago. There was a conversation that he’d overheard regarding justice.

“Ha! Justice in this place! Someone was making a joke.”

There were six murders of late. All of them occurred on the ‘Philly’ side of the bridge. Camden recorded fifteen as of late. Four of the victims were women. The other two, a homo-sexual and a hetero-sexual. Each of the Philly murders happened in all four corners of the city, on the same night.

Willis crawled into bed with his wife, Elizabeth. He’d been working all day and late into the night, racking up a grand total of 18 straight hours. It was a hot and sweltering night in “Mount Airy.” Summertime in Philly can be a deadly killer. The gripping effect of humidity and heat has claimed the lives of several elderly and physically challenged citizens. Many of the city’s homeless have been approached and sometimes gathered up in groups by authorities suggesting shelter of a mandatory nature.

Willis didn’t want to be saddled with the first victim of the case, let alone all six. His new partner and subordinate made a clumsy comment.

“Ya know boss, don’t cha’ think these deaths have something in common?”
Willis replied, “Yeah, they’re all dead…and don’t call me boss!”

Chasey (pronounced ‘Chazzy’) Deltaveino was an old Jr. high school chum when we both attended ‘Vare Middle School’ in South Philly. Chasey Del, as he was known, was a made members’ son. He knew anything and everything, especially if and when it concerned South Philadelphia and South Jersey goings-on known as business. Last week, a bar fight jumped off on the corner of 10th and Mifflin. One guy was pissed because he couldn’t get his car out of its’ parking space. Another patron’s car was double-parked, blocking him in. Mostly all of the South Philly residents were accustomed to this way of life. The average South Philadelphian didn’t blink an eye at the thought of not doing so. From Delaware Avenue to 25th Street and Snyder Avenue to Oregon Avenue was considered the zone for double parked cars.
If you were a member of the family’s business, you did whatever you wanted anyway. Made members were the elite in those particular neighborhoods. One could compare such a society to that of mob figures in New York. The South Philly Mobs were a force to be reckoned with.
When the old ‘Mustache Pete’s’ like ‘Angie-B’, ran things, there wasn’t a great deal of blood on the streets. There was only money to be made.

The two guys were squaring off outside after a pushing and shoving match occurred inside. Apparently, the “made-man” didn’t move fast enough for the guy who wanted to get his car out. The angry man didn’t know the guy who shoved him back was a made-man. He shoved harder and won out on the shoving match. The made-man punched him in the mouth with a solid blow from a straight right-cross. The angry man fell backwards into the bar, landing on a couple of patrons who allowed him to drop to the floor. More angry than embarrassed, he pulled himself to his feet and took a defensive posture. Realizing he was in more of a situation than originally ascertained, he quickly began to think of a way out of the situation.

“Yo man, all I wanted you to do was to move your fuckin car so that I could get out!”
The mobster replied, “Fuck You! I’ll move it when I’m ready…and I’m not quite ready, so take your best shot pal!”

The foolish man obeyed the suggestion and swung hard with his right fist. He attempted to hit the left side of the made-man’s face. He missed when the mobster took a quick lean back and recoiled with a barrage of deadly blows.
He hit the angry man squarely on the right side of his jaw. He then punched the man right on the point of his chin with a straight right, sending him out through the glass doors, into the street. Returning to his feet, the injured and dazed fellow hit the outside wall of the bar wall with a loud thud and fell down face first onto the concrete sidewalk from the blow of another pulverizing punch. Picking himself up from the ground proved to be a daunting task. His face and nose were bloodied from the punch and fall. In the attempt to get up, the man was struck again. The mobster kicked him viciously in the stomach. The man groaned in agony. The mobster was geared up to stomp on the man’s groin area when the injured man rolled over into a supine position.
Retaining his defensive gesture, the man rolled over again into a fetal posture. Recovering quickly, the man jumped to his feet. He was preparing to attack the made-man again. Reaching into his right trouser pocket, he produced something shiny. It flashed a brilliant silver-blue reflection from the bar-room glow and lights from the streetlamps. It clicked and snapped while it swung like a chained-stem “yo-yo” with its flashing recoil. The man mastered the tool like a pro. It was a switchblade knife with a nearly invisible edge equaling a straight razor. The mobster took a step back as his adversary prepared for the attack. The mobster then did something to cause the man with the blade to freeze dead in his tracks.
The mobster pointed a brand new blue-steel Smith and Wesson 9mm at his face, cocking the hammer with the slide bar on top.

“Listen boy, you got your ass kicked here tonight. So let’s call it a night and go our merry way…I’ll move my car so you can go.”
The knife wielding man cringed and swallowed with embarrassment and fear. He knew he was a dead man. But foolish is as foolish does. When the made-man turned to re-enter the bar, the man lunged forward. The mobster twisted around to his left and with deadly accuracy, pointed the gun from under his left arm and shooting with the right. He shot the knife-wielder in the left knee.
He screamed in agony as the red hot bullet tore through the joint, ripping it to shreds. The blood squirted everywhere. It hit the gawkers standing nearby and sprayed gore all over the wall of the bar and sidewalk. The knife wielder dropped his knife, gripping his leg in utter agony; fell back down to the ground.

The made-man walked over to him, placing his right foot on the man’s neck and pointed the Glock at his face and smiled down at him.

“Well son, the first rule of confrontation is to never bring a knife to a gunfight… So long pal, hope I don’t see ya in hell!”
Just as he was preparing to pull the trigger, a car pulled up with blinding lights and screeching wheels.

“Damn little Ricky, I see you’re still doing that gangster shit.”

“Yo Chasey…what’s happnin Bro! Long time no see, Homes!”

The foolish and frightened man’s life was spared. “Little Ricky” waved the guys; who made up his immediate crew; off. This gesture of mercy allowed the beaten irreverent loser the opportunity to live and see another day. Ricky’s gesticulation was completely understood by his men and the surceased and bloodied individual who was hurried by several tacit bystanders to his car. No one called for an ambulance because no one wanted to answer any questions the police would obviously have. They would not risk an interrogation by the leader of the group responsible for the foolish man’s injuries. He was on his own.

Sirens sounded in the distance. The sound grew closer to the bar’s location. Apparently, some one did call for medical assistance to the injured individual.

“Yo Rick, I need to talk to you for a mo.”
Chasey’s car pulled around behind the back of the building which housed the tavern. He didn’t bother to look and see where the driver parked the car. He wouldn’t be concerned because he wouldn’t have to move any further than the curb when his ride was needed.

Little Ricky’s boys automatically jumped to attention whenever Chasey showed up. They knew that penalty for disrespect. Several of them used to belong to him before he became the head “Knock-Around-Guy.” A few of them who were designated leaders, were with him back in the day when he was just starting his ascent to the top. Now that he is the current known “Capo di tutti capi,” Chasey’s ass was frequently kissed most everywhere he went. Little Ricky also bowed and scraped upon the “boss of bosses” arrival on any given scene at any given time.

“I’ve got this lil problem… One of our boys in blue took a trip to “never-never-land” a bit too soon. He owed us a great deal of dough. About ‘800 large.’ He departed this planet with a debt to heavy to forget or forgive.
Although he croaked on the job…he paid the ultimate price without our permission. He croaked at the behest of his superior…a Black.

Now, the thing that compounds my dilemma is that I know this Black Commander – I went to school with him – we were good friends, buddies.

Now I don’t, I’m not quite sure how to handle this situation. Somebody has to pay me my money.

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/03/23/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series/

>

Part Two:
“The AR-15 Incident”

~ “FAIRMOUNT”: ‘The Willis Samuel Investigations!’-The Series ~
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

~ “The AR-15 Incident” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333201/the-ar-15-incident-pt-2-willis-samuel-investigations-fairmount

‘Raphael Koheaven,’ a private lawyer for the ‘Don,’ has said he paid ‘Ms. Sarah Milfford’ $136,000 of his own money during the appointment to the “Capo di tutti capi” campaign. ‘Koheaven’ did not explain why he made the payment or say whether ‘Trappolli’ was aware of it. The fierce and ruthless competition for ‘Boss’ of The Washington D.C. province, has put a number of “The Brotherhood” on edge. An infamous Porn Star is Offering to Repay the $136,000 for her silence in Dispute over the alleged “Trappolli Love Affair!” The trigger fingers of high-ranking buttons were indeed hot and juicy with the anticipation of who the next leader would be as well as what the next order will be in the executions of and upon targeted identifications.

Koheaven, Trappolli’s lawyer, came after Stevie Cliff, whose real name is “Sarah Milfford,” in recent weeks, filed for court arbitration. A document signed by Milfford and Koheaven — but never Trappolli — promised Milfford $136,000 if she agreed not to publicly discuss the details of her relationship with Trappolli.

Trappolli did not sign the document, but Koheaven still sent Clifford the money out of his own pocket. Trappolli has reportedly not paid Koheaven back.

Milfford’s lawsuit rejects Trappolli and his legal team’s attempts to scare her and her mother, “Kristine Milfford,” into silence. According to the police complaint, Koheaven in last December, forced Milfford to sign a statement that her reports on the relationship weren’t true.

“To be clear, the attempts to intimidate Ms. Milfford into silence and ‘shut her up’ in order to ‘protect Mr. Trappolli’ continue unabated,” the complaint states.

“For example, only days ago on or about November 27, Mr. Trappolli’s attorney, Mr. Koheaven surreptitiously initiated a bogus arbitration proceeding against Ms. Milfford in the New York Court System.

Actress “Sarah Milfford,” who uses the stage name “Stevie Cliff,” has said the affair with Trappolli began in 2006 and lasted several months. Trappolli has denied he had an affair with Milfford. The alleged affair has become the latest distraction for Trappolli as he tries to advance his trade agenda and prepares for the bid to become ‘councilman of his district within the City of Philadelphia and a proposed meeting with Korean Crime leader “Kin Un-Dun,” for an expected large shipment of narcotics. It also threatens to erode the Don’s support among his local crew members and the neighborhood evangelical leaders.

“This is an extremely fair offer,” her attorney, “Aveno Michaelangelo,” said in an interview. “It accomplishes the goal of allowing the few people involved to decide who is telling the truth after hearing both sides.”

Rapheal Koheaven, has said he paid Milfford $136,000 of his own money during the leadership (Mob) transition. Koheaven did not explain why he made the payment or say whether Trappolli was aware of it. Regardless of whether Koheaven accepts Milfford’s offer, the money is the subject of a complaint by the watchdog group “Common Directions,” to the Federal Election Commission. The group claims it is an illegal campaign contribution for the esteemed seat of ‘Council Person.’ Because of the size and purpose of the illlegal payment, to shut the woman up about the alleged affair, in order for the legal petition to move forward.

Michaelangelo in a letter to Koheaven, a copy of which was seen by Reuters, said the actress would wire the funds to an account of Trappolli’s choosing by Friday. Michaelangelo set a deadline of Tuesday for Koheaven to respond.

Under the proposal, Milfford after returning the money would be allowed to speak “openly and freely about her prior relationship with the candidate and attempts to silence her.”
She also would be able to “use and publish any text messages, photos and/or videos relating to the ‘Don’ that she may have in her possession, all without fear of retribution and/or legal liability for damages,” the Michaelangelo letter said.

The letter also asked that the candidate’s lawyers agree that neither Trappolli nor the shaddy company Koheaven used to pay Milfford would attempt to block the broadcast of an interview Milfford taped with television News’ “The City Minutes” program last week. And it would require the agreement be signed by all parties, including the council seat candidate, who did not put his name on the previous nondisclosure deal.

Koheaven did not immediately respond to a request for comment on the letter, nor did Koheaven’s attorney. The Mayor and sitting council members also did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

We got news of the machine gun attack over the ‘Inter-National-Police-Communications-Wire’ as well as all of the televised news report programs.

>

The Feb. 14 attack in Florida killed 17 people – 17 confirmed dead in the ‘Horrific Attack’ on a Florida high school – as it happened:

“Don’t Look to The White House for Leadership After the Florida School Shooting,” wrote one online reporter.

“It’s at times like these that a normal leader would step up to reassure the country of its values and take action to protect its citizens. But we don’t have one of those right now. This is the leader who took a whole week to say he was “totally opposed to domestic violence” after his staff secretary quit, amid accusations from his ex-wives of just that. The man’s supposed condemnation came after he heaped praise on the guy for his job in the White House, wished him the best in his career, and suggested that he deserved “due process” against all these allegations. That’s the cost of doing business with a man who wanted the death penalty for five teenagers known as the Central Park Five, and claimed they were guilty even after they were exonerated by DNA evidence.”

“This happens nowhere else”: one senator decries gun laws after Florida shooting.

A 17-year-old junior at the victimized school, said “I used to be friends with him (the suspect), but that he started “progressively getting a little more weird, and I kind of cut off from him!”

What we know so far:

According to reporter,’Claire Phipps,’ “Here is what we now know about the terrible events that unfolded at ‘Marjory Stoneman Douglas high school in Parkland, Florida,’ on Wednesday.

Seventeen people; children and adults; were killed when a gunman entered the high school on Wednesday afternoon and launched an attack. Twelve people were found dead inside the school, two were killed outside the building, one in the street, and two died later in hospital from their injuries.

The suspect has been named by police as 19-year-old Nikolas Cruz. He was arrested at the scene and is being questioned by investigators. The killer was armed with an AR-15 rifle and “multiple magazines”, police said.

Cruz was formerly a student at Douglas, but was expelled for disciplinary reasons. A teacher at the school said staff had been warned not to let him back on campus. The suspect had reportedly been receiving treatment for mental health issues.

Twelve of those killed have been identified, police said on Wednesday evening. The names of victims at this time, have not been released, but Sheriff Scott Israel said a football coach was among those lost. Fifteen victims remain in hospital, five in life-threatening conditions and ten with injuries that are not life-threatening.

Students who had been at school with Cruz said many classmates had predicted he could “do something” to harm them and that he had previously brought guns to school. One Teacher, Melissa Falkowski, said drills for a code red (active shooter) situation had been well rehearsed.
“We could not have been more prepared for this situation. We have trained for this, we have trained the kids for what to do, We did everything that we were supposed to do! I feel today like our government, our country, has failed us and failed our kids and didn’t keep us safe. This tragedy appears to be the eighth deadliest mass shooting in contemporary U.S. history. It is also one of at least eight U.S. school shootings so far in 2018 that have caused injury or death.
The so-called President tweeted his “prayers and condolences” to those affected, but decided not to speak about the attack, reports said. But others said thoughts and prayers were not enough.”

Chris Murphy, senator for Connecticut – site of the 2012 Sandy Hook school shooting, in which 26 children and adults were killed – said:
“This happens nowhere else other than the United States of America. This epidemic of mass slaughter, this scourge of school shooting after school shooting. It only happens here not because of coincidence, not because of bad luck, but as a consequence of our inaction. We are responsible!”

Another reporter, ‘Lois Beckett,’ said, “The emotional impact of school shootings has sparked a booming school safety industry. In 2017, the market for security equipment in the education sector was estimated at $2.68bn, according to industry analysts at IHS Markit. Some companies have capitalized on parents’ fears by selling bulletproof backpacks or whiteboards, as well as offering ways to fortify school buildings against attack. While refusing to pass substantive gun control restrictions, Congress has approved hundreds of millions of dollars in federal spending to help put police officers in public schools, including $45m in 2013, the year after the Sandy Hook elementary school shooting. Some gun rights advocates have pushed to expand gun-carrying in schools further. Andrew McDaniel, a state legislator in Missouri who introduced legislation last year to make it easier to carry guns in schools, told the ‘Guardian’ that, in rural schools where it might take 20 or 30 minutes for law enforcement to respond to a school shooting in progress, it made sense to have other armed citizens ready to step in.”

Sheriff Scott Israel adds:

“If a person is predisposed to commit such a horrific event; if a person is committed to committing great carnage; there’s not a lot law enforcement can do about it. We have to be able to mitigate, we have to be able to respond quickly. He says more money needs to go to treating mental health issues.”
Israel also says that, in his view, “people with mental health illnesses should not be allowed to use, own or purchase a handgun.”

>

The AR-15:

“An AR-15 style rifle is a lightweight semi-automatic rifle based on the Colt AR-15 design. After Colt’s patents expired in 1977, an expanded marketplace emerged with many manufacturers producing their own version of the AR-15 design for commercial sale. They are referred to as modern sporting rifles by the National Shooting Sports Foundation, a firearms industry trade association, and by some manufacturers. Coverage of high profile incidents where various versions of the rifle were involved often uses the shorthand AR-15.

Since 2010, AR-15 style rifles have become one of the “most beloved and most vilified rifles” in the United States, according to the New York Times. It has been promoted as “America’s rifle” by the National Rifle Association. It has also been the weapon used in many of the largest mass shootings in the United States, and is often legally classified as an assault weapon. The Federal Assault Weapons Ban restricted the Colt AR-15 and derivatives from 1994-2004, although it did not affect rifles with fewer features. There are an estimated 10-12 million in circulation in the United States alone.

Its’ Use in Crime and Mass Shootings:

Most killings and other gun crimes in the United States are committed with the use of handguns. As a result, AR-15 style rifles are used in a very low overall percentage of gun crimes in the U.S., but they have still played “an over-sized role in many of the most high-profile” mass shootings in the United States, and have come to be widely characterized as the weapon of choice for perpetrators of these crimes. AR-15 variants have been used in mass shootings in the United States including the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, 2012 Aurora shooting, 2015 San Bernardino attack, the 2017 Sutherland Springs church shooting, the 2017 Las Vegas shooting, and the 2018 Stoneman Douglas High School shooting.

Following the use of a Colt AR-15 rifle in the Port Arthur massacre, the worst single-person shooting incident in Australian history, the country enacted the National Firearms Programme Implementation Act 1996, restricting the private ownership of semi-automatic rifles with a capacity of more than 5 rounds.

Some Definitive Terminology:

1973 Colt AR-15 SP1 rifle with ‘slab side’ lower receiver (lacking raised boss around magazine release button) and original Colt 20-round box magazine

In 1956, ArmaLite designed a lightweight assault rifle for military use and designated it the ArmaLite Rifle-15, or AR-15. Due to financial problems, and limitations in terms of manpower and production capacity, ArmaLite sold the design and the AR-15 trademark to Colt’s Manufacturing Company in 1959. In 1964, Colt began selling its own version with an improved semi-automatic design known as the Colt AR-15. After Colt’s patents expired in 1977, an active marketplace emerged for other manufacturers to produce and sell their own AR-15 style rifles.

In 2009, the term “modern sporting rifle” was coined by the National Shooting Sports Foundation for its survey that year as a marketing term used by the firearms industry to describe modular semi-automatic rifles including the AR-15. Today, nearly every major firearm manufacturer produces its own generic AR-15 style rifle. As Colt continues to own and use the AR-15 trademark for its line of AR-15 variants, other manufacturers must use their own model numbers and names to market their AR-15 style rifles for commercial sale.

Another Comparison to The Military Versions:

The semi-automatic civilian AR-15 was introduced by Colt in 1963. The primary distinction between civilian semi-automatic rifles and military models is select fire. Military models were produced with firing modes, semi-automatic fire and either fully automatic fire mode or burst fire mode, in which the rifle fires three rounds in succession when the trigger is depressed. Most components are interchangeable between semi-auto and select fire rifles including magazines, sights, upper receiver, barrels and accessories. The military M-4 carbine typically uses a 14.5″ barrel. Civilian rifles commonly have 16 inch or longer barrels to comply with the National Firearms Act.

In order to prevent a civilian semi-automatic AR-15 from being readily converted for use with the select fire components a number of features were changed. Parts changed include the lower receiver, bolt carrier, hammer, trigger, dis-connector, and safety/mode selector. The semi-automatic bolt carrier has a longer lightening slot to prevent the bolt’s engagement with an automatic sear. Due to a decrease in mass the buffer spring is heavier. On the select fire version, the hammer has an extra spur which interacts with the additional auto-sear that holds it back until the bolt carrier group is fully in battery, when automatic fire is selected. Using a portion of the select fire parts in a semi-automatic rifle will not enable a select fire option. As designed by Colt the pins supporting the semi-auto trigger and hammer in the lower receiver are larger than those used in the military rifle to prevent interchangeability between semi-automatic and select fire components.

In the 1990s, sales of AR-15 style rifles increased dramatically, partly as a result of the introduction of the flat top upper receiver which allowed scopes and sighting devices to be easily mounted as well as new features such as free floating hand guards that increased accuracy. While only a handful of companies were manufacturing these rifles in 1994, by the 21st century the number of AR-15 style rifles had more than doubled. From 2000 to 2015, the number of manufacturers of AR-15 style variants and knock-offs increased from 29 to about 500. Today, AR-15 style rifles are available in a wide range of configurations and calibers from a large number of manufacturers. These configurations range from standard full-sizes rifles with 20 inch barrels, to short carbine-length models with 16 inch barrels, adjustable length stocks and optical sights, to long range target models with 24 inch barrels, bipods and high-powered scopes.

The AR-15 style rifle has been identified by ‘The North Korean Leader’ as the “rod of iron” in Revelation 2:27, and has been used in his splinter group’s version of the Unification Church mass wedding ceremony.”

Mrs. Willamina Trappolli was absolutely livid when she discovered her husband’s adultery…right under her nose! She got wind of it via the local news media when the story went international. Maximilian Diego Trappolli wasn’t very pleased to learn that his wife has gained knowledge of the lurid affair(s) that have surfaced.

>

Part Three:
“Bus Drivers Do It At Their Stops!”

 

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt.3)

~ “Bus Drivers Do It At Their Stops!” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333230/bus-drivers-do-it-at-their-stops-willis-samuel-investigations-the-series
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

Prelude:
Anna served a luncheon soirée. Four of her guests sat at the kitchen table while the others’ were seated in the dinning room.
Potted flowers lent to the permeating atmosphere. Air freshness and ventilation fixtures gave a hand as well. The guests seated throughout the house paid no mind to the hustling and bustling server woman. They simply sat in seemingly blind obedience.

He made it his business to get even…to even the score. They’ve taken his money, his car; after the death of his wife, they took his reason for living. She passed away when she didn’t have too. She was treated like a savage, a vagabond, and a harlot. She didn’t deserve any of it…the crass and brutish behavior, statements and accusations of ill-projected platitudes and non-sequitor.

He had a plan. He knows who all the culprits are – they will become the targets of his revenge; revenge for his wife…

It was raining pretty hard on Thursday. The training class had begun on Monday but he was hired on Wednesday. All he had to do was attend the remaining two days of training and catch the next three the following week.
The classes begin at 9:30 a.m. sharp. By that time nearly all the senior drivers and trainers will have arrived back at the terminal after the A.M. run.
The attendance roll is taken, usually by a sign-in sheet and then verified trainer via name call. The appropriate reading materials are dispensed and the lecture commences.

“As a result of the Federal Commercial Motor Vehicle Safety Act, Pennsylvania established a commercial driver licensing program. This program has been developed to improve driver quality, ensuring that commercial drivers have the skills needed to operate commercial vehicles, and to prevent drivers from having more than one driver’s license. The program requires you to have a commercial license (CDL) if you operate any of the following commercial motor vehicles (CMV’s):

A) A combination of vehicles with a gross combination (GCWR) weight rating of 26, 0001 pounds or more, providing the vehicle being towed is in excess of 10,000 pounds.

B) A single vehicle with a gross vehicle weight rating (GVWR) of 26, 0001 or more pounds.

C) A vehicle designed to transport 16or more persons, including the driver.

D) A school bus designed to carry 11 passengers or more, including the driver.

E) Any size vehicle which transports hazardous materials and is required to be placarded in accordance with department regulations.”

The instructor continued to speak with a dulling autocratic and mundane tone of voice. He made it clear that no trainee can be tested at the DMV without first obtaining a ‘CDL’ permit.
The instructor spoke further. “As many of you know, there are separate classifications for drivers in this great nation. It may well be in place in other major countries around the globe as well. In my opinion, I think it’s a good thing. Right away it separates the pros from the novice motor vehicle operator…the elitist group, if you will. We are the pros, the classiest, and the elitist…the best! I will not quote verbatim because the text is contained within the manuals in your possession. I expect you to read the volume word for word. If you do, and retain at least 70% of the data…as part of your behavior or psyche, I guarantee that you’ll pass the examination. It means that you have the knowledge and desire to be amongst the chosen…the best drivers in the world!”
The class erupted in hand clapping and gestures of approval.

“The classes of driver licensing in these United States are as follows:

Class A, tractor-trailer drivers, super-cede all other driver classifications.

Class B, a single vehicle rating of 26, 000 lbs. and/or towing a vehicle not more than 10, 000 lbs., and Class C, a regular operator who qualifies to operate a vehicle not more than 26, 000 lbs. or any combination of vehicles, etc., etc.
You must be 21 years of age to operate any commercial vehicle out of state. That means Interstate to you low-brows.” The class responded in light laughter.

“In addition to the CDL classes, there are also special endorsements and restrictions that you must have in order to drive certain types of commercial vehicles, i.e., Haz-Mats, tankers, double-trailers and triples, 16 passenger mini bus, school bus (carrying sixty-six passengers or more), and metro buses such as the PTC or SEPTA vehicles. Many of the large vehicles are equipped with air brakes and other various restrictions.
Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who are beginners, you can expect to serve and complete a minimum of twenty-five classroom hours along with scheduled continuing educational transportation instruction for the duration of your career in this industry. Not to mention, the random piss-test and/or blood analysis. So…for those of you who have smoked a joint and or something else of late, I don’t want to see you for at least two months from now. I know some of you have the cure-all for passing the test(s), think again. We have been alerted to the newest changes and technology for drug detection and the weeding out of abusers and users. It no longer takes thirty-days to get clean…it’s been updated to take approximately more than sixty to ninety days to get completely clean and system free, especially for older applicants.”

Douglas Anthony Dixon was successful in his venture to begin a new job and career. Training and certification classes were all behind as he was assigned his new school-bus route. After the first year on the job, his plan for revenge was laid out and awaiting implementation. He had endured all of the pressures of the job during his first tenure.
His disdain for the lack of respect from administrators, bus attendants who were supposed to supervise the young riders, their demanding dispositions, misunderstood driver duties and responsibilities as opposed their behavior on board the bus – (the driver is king-ruler-has the last word), the problems created concerning respect is disregarded by the riders, school officials, and parents alike, bread high animosity among the elite driving staff. The rift between the entities was ever so outstanding.

One of his stops brandished the constant complaints of one unattractive Black woman of means with two children who rode his bus, they were twins. The woman’s condescending, patronizing, and mean-spirited disposition gave ‘Tony’ reason to dislike her almost immediately upon introduction. On nearly every single occasion, the woman would bark orders and attempted to intimidate him with antagonistic rhetoric and threats…a real bitch.

At another stop along the way, was a voluptuous, full-figured blonde woman who happened to be the friend of Mrs. Willamina Trappolli…wife of Don Maximilian Diego Trappolli. Their house was one of many owned by the Don. This one happened to be in Philadelphia as opposed to the New York residence(s). Once in awhile, she would escort her two children, a boy and girl who were 11 and 12 years of age, to the bus stop in the morning. When she didn’t make the trip down the driveway of their Roxborough residence, it would be the maid who seeminigly was not much older than the kids she accompanied. She appeared to be of Scandanavian descent. Like many of the other parents of riding children, Mrs. Gayle Armanio met the bus on the morning pickup and the afternoon return trips. This woman always made sure to be noticed by every male driver who drove through the neighborhood, whether picking up her kids or by route drivers who happened to criss-cross along the way. She especially expressed a definite interest in this particular driver, the driver who drove her children. A party had been arranged. The winter holiday were fast approaching…he had been invited.

A cop who patrolled the area knew of the attention seeking mother. She didn’t like her much. She didn’t like the bus driver much either. She made it her business to watch every move the drive made. She watched him like a hawk. If he made one damned error out on the road of her beat, she’d be there to get him.

The Northwest section of town was on alert for the “Germantown Rapist.” The Northeast section was also experiencing this plague as well. The thug in the Germantown section has attacked and raped three women, the fourth escaped because a passing motorist distracted him while parking his car in the back lot on “Armat Street,” along the Germantown Avenue corridor.

A drug baron was apprehended and detained in a Philly jail by the “FBI” and “ATF” during a surprise raid on nearby “Price Street.” This major player had his hands in everything…whores, gambling, dope, auto-theft, truck hijacking, and real estate. He had the approval of mob kingpin “Chase Del” – a.k.a., Chasey Deltaveino of South Philly.
One of the kingpin’s dope house workers became a disgruntled employee. His money was never right and the managers deducted the missing from his meager wages. It was true the employee was skimming…but it wasn’t money.
His eventual arrest and testimony put his entire and completely innocent family in harms way. The sinister plot to destroy this family were seconds away from being approved. The meeting was nearing its end at the restaurant were “Anna” was serving them. A jail-house visit and an OK nod is all it would take to implement the destruction of innocents.

The riders on the “El” and “Subway” trains are on full alert when a madman is stalking, robbing, and attacking unwary travelers. Several attacks included people being pushed off of train platforms onto the tracks below, seconds before trains arrivals along the entire length of Philadelphia railway system.

The group sitting at the table with Trappolli were also discussing what is to be done about “Stevie Cliff.” She is set to be on television tomorrow night; being interviewed by “Salestian Michaels,” on the “City Minutes” program. Everyone at the table knew that this simply could not happen…it will not happen!

In Germantown, a naked, skinned, and bleeding body was found hanging upside down by the ankles and heels; was found by the police. The body was roped with a length of hemp and around his neck was a length of chain. It hung from a ceiling joist in the middle of the basement of a large house on “Church Lane.” In his mouth they found several one dollar bills and a large rat, forced deep down in his throat. Several cops, two of which were female, were forced to run outside in fits of vomit.

Entering the room(s) was “Willis Samuel, Captain of Detectives”; these four of six hot cases, landed upon his desk; squarely on his lap, his jurisdiction.

>

Chapter 4: “Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold!”

 

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’ (Pt.4)

~ “Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold!” ~

Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=333689&cid=10

“Damn… Why’d they have to skin him? It probably didn’t suit them to simply kill the fucker, huh?”

Willis turned to look at his driver and get his take on the crime scene. Warren didn’t say a word. He just stared off in dumb-witted bewilderment. He didn’t listen to the Medical Examiner when he told him to breathe through your mouth…it was too late. The sergeant gagged and ran from the killing room. In between vomiting episodes, a subordinate attempted to inform him of the identity of the hanged and skinned dead man.

“Sergeant, I want this man identified a.s.a.p., and I want to know the time of death…I wonder who would take the time to do something like this. I haven’t seen or heard of something like this kind of shit being done to people in quite some time. It’s something right out of a “Voodoo” horror movie! This is a bit unreal…the mob doesn’t operate like this…the rat and the money, yeah, okay, but not the skinning and hanging upside down. This is made to look like something it isn’t.”

The sergeant managed to gather himself and get back into the exam room. He got the attention of the captain while he listened to the medical examiner. Warren informed the captain that the dead man was a cop.

“Captain, several of the officers seem to know this man, even without his skin…his physical makeup is recognized by one officer in particular…his partner.”

“Really, is that a fact?” The captain rubbed his chin and began to walk around the room, being careful as to not step on evidence or blood spatter. Okay, I’d like photos of everything in here and outside of the building. I want this entire floor, from front to back, dusted and fingerprinted, I want everything bagged and tagged…nothing is to be left undone or uncollected. When the examination is completed by the M.E., I want the names of his contacts personal and professional, and more than anything else…I want to interview his current partner.”

The sergeant quickly and diligently got to work.

“Captain, am I driving you anywhere before I get these things done?”

“No, I’ll drive myself…I need to see a few folks while we’re in the neighborhood. Get this info to me as quick as possible…I’ll see you later at the office. You can get a ride back with one of the other officers.”

Captain Willis’s mind wandered a bit. He couldn’t help thinking of the things that his ancestors endured back in the day…in the south as well as the north. His grandfather’s stories have carried him to time and lands that he would never see or experience…until now. He knew of people who have disappeared, been tortured, and killed in a fashion such as the hanging victim back inside.
He drove around the neighborhood for a little while, gathering his thoughts as he traveled. where, who would know of the type of rope (hemp) that was used in the hanging? Why was this man killed in that fashion? Was he tortured before his death? How did he get there and why was he there in that building? Who was it he was meeting with? Was he on duty at the time of his death? How many men did it take to string him up to the ceiling? What did he do to deserve that type of death?

Willis’s cell phone interrupted his thought processes…it was his sergeant.

“Captain, I’ve located the victim’s partner. She says that he had been threatened a while back. She also said that he had been threatened by the neighborhood drug dealers for coming down on them on a number of occasions. She thought her partner stepped on the toes of one of the “Big Shots” in the network…she thinks it’s a “Jamaican Revenge” thing.”

“Okay, get her ass in the interview room as soon as you can get her picked up…unless she’s coming in on her own. The next thing is I want copies of the duty roster of the two on my desk by the time I get back. It would also help to know about her comings and goings as well, Sergeant. I have a couple of stops to make…I’ll meet you back at the office in couple of hours.”

The captain concluded his ride around the hood and headed for the “Lincoln Drive” extension to the “I-76” expressway…South Philly was his destination. He wanted to speak with an old friend who would know about these types of deaths. Willis did not believe the sergeant’s analogy surrounding the dead man hanging from the ceiling.

The cell phone ringer once again disturbed his train of thought. The call was from one of the district attorney’s detectives who was assigned to keep tabs on “Stevie Cliff,” the porn star. Not only was this detective assigned to the detail, he was a long time friend of the captain. The detective also knew that Willis was overwhelmed with murder cases and wanted to see his friend complete the assignments with expert detail and successful completions. The all-white upper echelon want to see him, a Black cop fail – fail miserably.

“Yo Bro., here’s a heads up…the bitch who had the “Don” on the hook, has disappeared…she’s gone and we can’t find her! The word will come down real soon…they’re trying to keep this shit “hush-hush,” out of the papers and kept from the public at large. I’m sure you know who could be behind this, unless she took off on her own…and I don’t think that part exists. I wanted to let you know before they come at you with who’s to blame and shit! The shit is going to hit the fan and you have time to get the hell out of the way. I’ll catch you later ‘Sam,’

The captain hung up his phone and thought out loud, “I’m not surprised at this, I knew something would happen to squeeze this thing shut… Did she leave or was she removed? He’ll know the answers…”

Captain Samuel turned from “Snyder Ave.” onto the “Broad St.” corridor. Peering out the window of his car, the crowds of people utilizing the area reminded him of his childhood and growing up in South Philly. Albeit, the captain has resided in homes throughout the four-cornered city, he has often reminisced the adventures in this part of the city. He thought of his friends and acquaintances as well.

‘Chasey’ was a special kind of guy. Samuel and Chasey, along with ‘Vincent Mason,’ were a tight knit three. On school days, you rarely saw one without the other. The three guys have been hanging out since the sixth grade. They stayed connected all the way through high school and went their separate ways just after graduating. Chasey kept tabs on Samuel by way of his outstanding accomplishments when he entered and grew in Philadelphia law enforcement. Patrolman Willis earned his strips up the ladder with his participation in community events, drug enforcement while undercover, public school involvement, the mayor’s special task force units, and special assignments along with his education and training. Mayors along the way have all liked him and usually asked for him by name when they wanted someone special to tend to delicate assignments, especially pertaining to community communications.

Chasey kept tabs on him…just in case he had to call on a favor or two. He never thought he would have to watch him due to a possible corrective action. The captain didn’t score any brownie points when he butted heads with Captain Jarard “Noodlehead” Noodles, former Philadelphia Police Captain of the 39th District.
Noodles was their go-to-guy. He was the “key-hole” for the local mob. He kept them appraised of impending action in and around the neighborhood(s) and the going-on’s downtown. The problem with this particular captain is that he liked to gamble, and gamble big. He also often lost his bets.

Willis had no idea that his schoolyard mate had any type of knowledge concerning the late Captain Noodles. Chasey knew of the rift between Willis and Noodles because Noodles attempted to take out a ‘contract’ on his hated rival during his many heated rants. He complained to the Don often about the Black Captain who continually stepped on his toes and kept him from growing in the division. Chasey always said no to the death requests. Noodles did not know of the childhood relationship between the two. Although the captain had nothing to do with the death of the police spy, he was still held to blame mainly because of the potential money loss and defunct “inside-information-man.”

Captain Willis pulled over to the curb of a darkened corner near ‘Twenty-fifth and Ritner Sts., just under the twenty-fifth st. train trestle. The bar on the corner was kept dark looking in order for them to be and remain incognito. Heads rolled as the captain entered the tavern. The made and non-made members of the club weren’t sure what to do when the Black Captain of Detectives walked in. They all knew who he was… He needed no uniform to announce his rank. Everyone wondered who it would be to get the order to “whack” the prominent city official.

Chasey stood up from the table in the dark corner to which he was accustomed to sit. He extended his right hand in a friendly gesture to the captain of detectives. The captain reciprocated the move. The two old friends smiled at one another and sat down to talk.

“Well Bro., long time no see. How’ve you been since our ole school daze?”

“I’ve been well, ole friend o’mine. I know you’ve been keeping a watchful eye on me as I have on you, yes?”

“Shit man, of course. I can’t tell you how proud I am and have been of you. The bad guys and crooks have a force to be reckoned with when dealing with you, my man!” Chasey smiled a grizzly “Cheshire Cat” type of grin as he drank from his cup. The red wine was being poured by one of the waiters as they spoke.

“Yeah man, we’ve done a lot of growing up in this city, haven’t we? I don’t know about how many bad guys are on the run because of me but I know they’d run like hell if it was you that was after them though.” The captain returned the slick grin that he’d received from his old friend as he sipped the red Italian wine from the tall glass that was offered him.

“Okay, good buddy, what’s on your mind…why’d you come to see ole Chazz?”

“Well…I’m having an odd problem trying to get the goods on a dead man we found in ‘G-Town’ yesterday. This guy was skinned damn near down to the bone. He had a rat and some dough in his kisser. Now that’s something “made” individuals suffer after they’ve done the unthinkable while belonging to or having business with any givin “familia!” We’re just not to sure about the skinning part. What’cha think?”

“I don’t know…we haven’t been having too many problems of late. No one that I know would bother taking that much time to do something so gruesome and defiling as taking off the skin of another. I hear that you’re having some other troubles keeping track of individuals…someone has disappeared, yes?”

“Chasey, I’m not sure as to what you are talking about…no one that I know of has disappeared from our surveillance(s). Is there something you’re trying to tell me or not trying to tell me, old friend?”

“No…I ain’t saying shit about nothing. All I know is what I hear from the streets. It’s not like I have ears in the department. Ya know? Have you heard from Vince?”

The captain tilted his head to the left in a kind of bewildering gaze.

“No Bro., I haven’t heard from him or his people in quite awhile.”

The “Capo di tutti capi” of Philly smiled that “Cheshire Cat” smile again. “Listen, Sammy, I’ll look into this skinning thing of yours and get back to you. Who knows, maybe you’ll do me a favor or two later on down the road, huh?

“Yeah, we’ll see Chasey. I’ll be talking to you later on my friend.”

The two men once again shook hands and smiled. On parting ways, they ventured a manly hug as an expression of endearment to their long time memories and happy times. The three of them did stay in the midst of mischief in those days.

The guys who sat along the bar and stood in the doorways, turned their backs to the captain as he walked out of the dark dubious establishment. Two cop cars were parked outside of the bar as he left. Samuel thought it odd that the two marked patrol cars were parked alongside his vehicle. No one knew that he’d be meeting with Chasey. He didn’t even tell Warren where he was going.

Upon entering his car, the phone rang. It was Warren.

“Yo Cap, I think we’ve got something on this killing. There’s been another victim…another cop on a hit list that was delivered to the precinct just after you left. It’s a female cop this time…”

>

Chapter 5: ~ “A Career Voiding Dance of Tomorrow” ~

‘Fairmount’– Willis Samuel Investigations Pt. 5:

~ “A Career Voiding Dance of Tomorrow” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/334330/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-the-series-pt-5-a-career-voiding-dance-of-tomorrow

When The Captain returned to his office, he didn’t expect to find “Sally” there waiting for him, unless there was going to be some sort of trouble. Salestian wasn’t one of Willis’ favorite people. He laughed to himself when he remembered how his friend’s girlfriend kicked his ass when he tried to moleste her during the “Zoological Uprising” by the bears. It has been quite awhile since he’d seen or heard from his friend, ‘Ranger Glenn.’

“Listen Captain, I know that you’ve got your hands full with all that’s going on right now. But I do need you to take a moment and look into this “missing kids” case. I’m certain that it ties in with one of the case you’re working right now.”

“How would you know what I’m working on Michaels? What makes you think you know which case are relevant to me or not? Would you happen to believe that your reporters nose is gifted with some sort of “ESP?”

“Captain Willis, I know you don’t like me much, but you know my reputation…you know I don’t go fucking around with stories that don’t directly help the people. This case is about helping all those parents who are grieving for the loss of their young innocent children. Do you care? Do you give a damn, being a parent…a father?”

“Okay Michaels, spill it…and don’t take all day to get to the point, man.”

“Well my Brother, do you remember my report a while back concerning a mysterious cult group that was discovered meeting and hanging out in “Valley Green?” Now bare with me…this shit was going on during your case surrounding the bear killings.

Now dig this…here is section of the hard-copy report that was filed”:

Just across the street, behind the mansion, the existence of ‘Slave Quarters’ stand erect today while being occupied by residents of color – remind us all, “Slaves were born and bred in this area of Philly (bought and sold in Center City – Head House Square), ‘Germantown,’ ‘Roxborough,’ ‘Mount Airy,’ ‘Chestnut Hill,’ and beyond…the suburbs of ‘Colonial Philadelphia’ and its ‘suburbs.’
The Suburbs? Are they truly a heaven from the rigors of city life or are they the heaven of retreat from the horrors of the past and present – the lying lie of “No Slavery in The North,” when there is no more room in hell, will the dead truly walk the Earth?

Are the ‘Kelpian’s’ continuing the tradition of Sabbat?

“The stranger, blessed to deliver the ‘New World’ to its destiny, is George Washington. The year is 1774. This data is from text discovered in the ‘Library of Congress,’ by an occult historian. His name is George Ballard.

His account is one of many legends inspired by a 17th century monk by the name of ‘Johannes Kelpius of Transylvania.’

He led a mystical and mysterious cult under the guise of religion. The so-called religious order was housed in the woods of northwest Philadelphia. The meditations commenced and continued undisturbed and unmolested from about 1694 to 1708, Johannes’s death, into and beyond current day society.

Ballard believes the members of the religious order in the Wissahickon-Valley Green woods of Roxborough – Chestnut Hill – Germantown – Mount Airy vicinity and woodland still reside there to this very day. For the past three centuries, Dracula has reigned supreme in tales of darkness and blood-feasting. But the Gothic and mysterious romance and blending ooze of hard facts tainted with fanaticism, has indeed planted the seed of intrigue into the minds of historians and imagination of people who believe in the mystical magical powers possessed in Kelpius and his ‘Philosopher’s Stone.’

The stone is an alchemical substance that has the ability to turn lead into gold.

Shady dealings and romance was the lore spun of Kelpius. His spiritual teachings were reminiscent of ‘Zen Buddhism.’

Kelpius was reportedly born in or about 1667 in Europe. His home town is currently known as ‘Sighisoara, Romania’ – where religious infighting fueled a protestant reformation. It was a devastating rift in European civilization.

Johannes was schooled in Bavaria (Germany) where he earned a doctorate in liberal arts. He became infatuated with a radical form of Lutheranism, deism. The order rejected the church and religious hierarchy. ‘The Society of The Women in the Wilderness, a band of forty or so like-minded followers, of which he came to lead, advocated a direct relationship with God.

Kelpius thought this devoted group that the world would end is the year 1694, when Heaven merges with Earth.

Kelpius believed the catastrophe would begin in the wilderness of Philadelphia. A vessel was chartered for the journey across the Atlantic to the Americas.

Kelpius’ followers grew to a large number by the time they boarded ship for the journey. Many of them died in transit. Several others decided to stay in Europe.

When they arrived in the new land, they settled on land donated by German settlers who arrived before them. The allotted parcel was located just outside the fledgling city soon to become known as Philadelphia. The village was called ‘Germantown.’ The main route from the city to the settlement was called ‘The Great Road.’ We know it today as ‘Germantown Avenue.’

Several of the group’s membership began to question the “End of Days” theory as the 1694 apocalypse never came to pass. Many of his disillusioned followers,’ followed him no more. They departed the fold and began families, living more secular existences throughout the young, fresh, and green northwestern region.

About a dozen or so surviving members remained in the group. They began to establish the beginnings of the American Chapter by erecting a series of huts and gardens. They built these around a large, log and muck hall of worship that overlooked the Wissahickon Creek. They founded a monastery and became known as hermits – they were portrayed as Philadelphia’s ‘Monks of The Wissahickon.’

Sparking the imagination, romantic novelists and poets began to take notice of the monks. Their hermit lifestyle fascinated one particular writer who happened to be a friend of ‘Edgar Allan Poe.’ His name is George Lippard.

Mr. Lippard wrote of the monks. He is quoted as saying “The Wissahickon Valley, outside of Philadelphia City, is a hot-bed of eerie activity.” He wrote and published a string of books accounting for the occult practices of witchcraft, devils, spells, and debauchery.

Researching and tracing the truth is what I’m after, not fables, legends, and flowery prose. I seek truth and facts. It appears, thought Sally while sitting behind his desk, the more I dig into this so-called legend, the murkier it seems to become.

When I went to the public library, the records were partly vague. I’ve discovered that hermits tend not to keep copious records if any at all. I’ve successfully been able to dig up third and second hand accounts coupled with a few generations of opaque comments and opinions on the legend by nearby residents and family members.

I knew then that I had to dig a bit deeper. Little did I know this intrepid trip would take my research and investigation to Transylvania, Romania, Africa, Istanbul, Morocco, Italy, and back to the States?

One resident of the Roxborough neighborhood who’s residence was near the Ridge Avenue, Port Royal Avenue, and Henry Avenue intersection told me of a man who went walking in the woods; like many who visit the Wissahickon – Valley Green trails. He spoke of how the man stumbled upon a prayer meeting of sorts. He began the tale with a recollection of another individual who transplanted from Europe to the States near or around the same era as Johannes. He didn’t remember his name.

“Like his father and grandfather, this descendant of Attila also remained in seclusion and clandestinely shrouds of secrecy and darkness near the ‘Bells Mills Road’ area.

The man, a rather large and tall Black; a Nubian born prince to the best of my knowledge, was hardly seen out in the bright of day.” He continued saying, about thirty years ago, I remember hiking through the park near Hermits Lane in Roxborough when I heard a ghostly singing nearby. There was another man walking not far in front of me. He noticed the bizarre happenings as well.

We heard “Rom mom, rom mom mom.” The chanting chorus resounded over and over again.” The speaking man continued, “It was gloriously creepy.” Following the sounds of singing and chanting, we came upon an equally, if not more, creepy sight. We saw a circle of figures huddled around a large yawning stone portal embedded in the hillside. Immediately, I, we recognized who they were.”

Listening to the man speak about the park, I remembered reading about their journey from Europe to the America’s during my research. They were ‘Rosicrucian,’ members of a secret society very similar to that of the ‘Freemasons.’ The portal was purported to be the cave of spiritual prayer and conjuring of one ‘Johannes Kelpius’ of Transylvania – the wizard and mystic of the Wissahickon woods. The group had, in the past, explained to uneasy and nervous neighbors as well as the authorities, “the cave was only used for Kelpius’ meditation and prayer rituals.” The stumbling hiker continued on with his recitation and discovery. “The group told me they gathered there because its members believed Kelpius was the first “Master” of their order to reach North America, and that day, the summer solstice, was also purportedly the day he arrived in Philadelphia.”

The second hiking man’s name was reported as ‘Alvin Holm.’ His posted and published report further stated, “I was so struck by this chance meeting with the worshipers in the green glow of the forest, I decided to join them. I became ‘a Rosicrucian!’ I was already a ‘Free-Mason.’ I did fall in love with the order and an essay written by Kelpius. It’s called “A Method of Prayer.”

One such essay reads:

“Dost thou promise that when the appointed time arrives, thou wilt be found ready, sword in hand, to fight for the country and thy God?”

The group of followers – the membership all came to answer, “I Do!”

“Then in his name who gave the new world to millions of the human race, as the last altar of their rights, I do consecrate thee its deliverer!”

Holm was quoting the dutiful anointing he’d learned from another reporter by the name of ‘Ryan Briggs,’ whose report included, “Then, after that a priest of the Wissahickon Order would dip hid fingers into the anointing oil and inscribed the outline of a cross upon the receiver’s forehead. He then prepared to place a wreath made of branches and thorns upon his head after reciting:

“When the time comes, go forth to victory.”

And then the priest turned to one of the followers and said that Kelpius’ instructions for the mysterious box, is to be thrown into the Wissahickon Creek. The mysterious “wooden casket,” that sat next to the alter; was picked up by the worshiping member. The worshiper sensed there might be something of value in the box, disobeyed the instruction. He pretended to do as instructed by going through the motions. Visibility wasn’t all that great. The torchlight and candles of various shapes and sizes provided illuminations of macabre shaped silhouettes and shadows of eerie ghostly spectres dancing about in the darkness. The deceiving wooden casket handler instead, hid the box from sight – hiding it for him.

I wasn’t seeing the relevance of all this until this ‘Sabbat-type’ of gathering occurred. I don’t know why, but a cold and bone shivering chill ran up and down my spine.

“I would advise you to take another look at this information. I know your superiors don’t think it’s worth a shit…but then again, they don’t cotton to you, me, or anybody else of color to get them thinking and moving for any cause that we think worthy. Brother, I wouldn’t go fucking around with not getting this thing out in the open. It may create trouble for you or it might get you the mayor’s seat…possibly the good graces of the public at large. Do it Willis…it’s the right thing to do and you know it.

…Later Bro., I know you’ll let me know what’s happenin.

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/334330/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-the-series-pt-5-a-career-voiding-dance-of-tomorrow

>

Chapter 6: ~ “Without A Trace” ~

 

‘Fairmount’– Willis Samuel Investigations Pt. 6:

~ “Without A Trace” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/335026/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-pt-6-without-a-trace

The Brother had no problem disappearing into the cold dark night. The next morning, he arose to the clatter of noises caused by the happy feet of children. The kids in the neighborhood knew who he was. He was never, ever noticed by those who resided in the neighborhood. He simply wasn’t known. No one knew his name. The children knew him, but didn’t know him by name. Everyone knew him when walked down the street. No one impeded his direction. No one dared to get in his way. He had the look, the style, the cool, the look of someone you just didn’t fuck with…and no one did.

That morning the Sun shined brightly. It glowed with a sense of renewal. The ice cream truck had just turned the corner. Its noise polluting song, chimes, annoyingly loud jingles, bells, and whistles, alerted all who listened and those who hated to hear the peddlers approach. The children jumped too…they gleefully ran from every corner and house to that sound that everyone finds familiar at that certain time of year – “The Ice Cream Man!”

Some knew him to get a bit of “weed.” Some knew him to ask a favor. Some knew him as someone you could talk too. And then, there are those who simply knew him to be someone you could go to in order to get something done…in order to fix something that no one else could fix. He could make the deal that no one else could ever dream of making. If you needed a loan to help feed your family or pay a bill that would take something away from you children, he was the man you wanted to know and be able to go to for help. He made himself available for such situations.

“Jamal” was certainly there when the “Monster Bruin” attacked the bus on 33rd Street. It’s quite possible, his bullet(s) was the killing force. There can be no argument that Jamal played a most important role in the demise of the ‘Monster’ that night.

Brother Jamal tried to help a cop. The cop happened to be a female…a Black Female. Well before he attempted to speak, she had an opinion of him. It was apparent that she was a rookie. She was out of her element and every soul on the scene knew it. Her instructions to all on the scene came out all wrong. People began to laugh. She was simply ignored… The Brother rolled up on the scene, witnessing the sight, he immediately came to the aid of the hapless police officer.

“Yo Get The Fuck Off Of The Car…Allow This Officer To Do Her Job!” Jamal wasn’t playing around. Many of the folks in this part of “Roxborough” hated the thought of any Black Person telling them what to do. And “Rasheeda” wasn’t the first or the last. She looked at the crowd of onlookers witnessing the crash. “Yeah, these so-called witnesses,” she thought to herself.
The Transit Bus was basically on top of the little foreign made import. The poor little car hadn’t a chance in contesting such a large vehicle. Traffic on the ridge was pretty tight and congested. Everyone hated travel on this venue during these hours, especially in the afternoon. Henry Avenue was always crazy during the morning at “rush hour.” Ridge and Shawmont was no exception. The heavy traffic flowed continually up “Shawmont Avenue” into “Ridge Avenue” and “Henry Avenue” in the morning rush as well as the rush in the afternoon hours. The drivers who rushed this route every singly day rode past the ‘Elementary School’ that sat on the right side of the road when facing Ridge Avenue, coming up the hill of Shawmont Avenue. They all knew of the school crossing and its’ elderly ‘Crossing Guard.’ She has directed traffic at this intersection for many years. This particular morning, she took ill and the city saw fit to place a rookie cop to the post. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Officer “Rasheeda Marilyn Johnston” directed traffic to the best of her knowledge. It wasn’t her fault when the transit bus plowed over the “Volks Wagon Jetta” when it was attempting to make a left turn from “Eva Street” into “Shawmont Avenue,” in order to access the parking lot of the elementary school across the street, as it did on every other morning for a host of children; from the first grade to the eighth. The office in charge of the corner this particular morning, waved the big bus through with her left hand in a forwarding circular motion, while waving her right hand in the oppossing direction.
The left hand signaled the bus driver to continue through the intersection on Shawmont Avenue to the downward incline, heading for the “Umbria” exchange. The right hand; in the drivers mind; indicated a go-ahead-motion for a left turn into Shawmont avenue from “Eva Street” while children were crossing the street.
Needless to say, the ‘VW’ driver turned directly into the path of the bus while all of the crossing children scampered for safety. It was too late for the driver of the car and the bus – they had followed the direction(s) of the cop-on-duty to their dismay. The occupants of the mini-car found themselves to be the subject(s) of bus undercarriage removal or the extraction of victims from scrap mettle debris, via the “Jaws of Life!”
Fire-Rescue Worker(s) freed the passengers of the Volks Wagon once the bus was lifted to a considerable height in order to free them from the wreckage. The driver of the passenger-less behemoth, was unscathed except for his nerves and uncontrollable anger. His anger was directed towards the bewildered and stupefied cop.

Rasheeda didn’t know what to do…she lashed out at the nearest target, the one who interfered with her will-full duties at hand… She blamed Jamal for butting-in. She out-and-out pointed at this good Samaritan and blamed him for the crash.
“It’s all your fault man, you had no business telling anyone what to do!” she shouted this craziness for all to hear.

“Yo Sister, all I was trying to do was help you! Shit, I wasn’t even here when the crash occurred! What the fuck were you thinking…what the hell did you see? Why are you trying to blame this shit on me? I’m supposed to be your Brother!” exclaimed Jamal.

“I didn’t need or want your help! Who in hell do you think you are to take things into your hands…I’m a duly appointed police officer…I’m the one in control of this goddamned corner…Me, and no one else! You should have minded your own business.”

The crowd of people didn’t agree with Rasheeda either. Many of them saw the entire episode unfold. They all saw this cop loose it and not have control of the situation from beginning to end. The cop glared at the crowd and again turned on Jamal. She began and immediate mental search to escape this ordeal…someone else to blame; a “scapegoat!”
She thought to herself, “Shit, I can’t be to blame for this, I can’t be held accountable, I have to prove that it wasn’t my fault; damn, there’s a lot of white folk here…what am I gonna do.?”

The acrimonious and exasperatingly cold, contemptuous officer, with an ostentatious display of cowardice; placed her right hand on her service weapon. The holstered blue-steel 9mm Glock Smith and Wesson changed right along with her demeanor.

“Alright, motherfucker, put your hands behind your back…I’m taking you in!”
She motioned Jamal to follow her direct orders. The crowd was awestruck! They couldn’t believe what they were witnessing… The cop, at nine forty five in the morning, was attempting to arrest the very person who had come to her aid in dealing with this pissed off crowd.
Someone shouted “Why in hell don’t you call in for a supervisor – this guy hasn’t done anything wrong! What’s the matter with you? Are you nuts?”
She ignored what was being said…she went on with her bogus arrest…Jamal was more pissed with himself than anything else. He cursed himself for bothering to stop and help a cop, even one who is female! “Why in hell didn’t I mind my own business…so much for helping…even if its a ‘Sister!‘”

Arriving at the fifth police district, the sergeant on duty, an experienced Black Man, asked, “Yo what in hell did you arrest him for, why’d you bring him in here? I’ve already got fourteen fucking calls, telling me what happened on that damned corner! What’s wrong with you?”

Rasheeda glared at her sergeant and said, “He disrespected an officer of the law and I’m locking his ass up!”

The old man shook his head in disbelief and disgust. It was her collar and there wasn’t much he could do about it other than state his disapproval…and he did, in writing. Jamal was released inside of an hour. The older cop just looked at him upon his release, and offered a gesture of apology. He nodded in acceptance and departed the building.

“Another officer will take you back to your car in a moment.” said a white-shirted, ranking cop, while he stood on the outside steps of the building. During the wait, Jamal noticed the arresting officer parked at the side street curb. He thought of approaching the cop to give her a piece of his mind. Wanting badly to confront the woman, he was averted when the cell-phone vibrated in his pocket. All of his belongings were not confiscated when he was arrested. They would have been returned anyway. He wasn’t charged for anything, including what Rasheeda wrote in her report. The report simply disappeared when it was filed…she was notified of such at the end of her shift.

The call received by Jamal was another assignment. Chasey needed him to erase and/or remove all of the loose-ends attached to the ongoing investigation. It was that of the skinned individual found in the Germantown warehouse. Just like on the night of the bus attack, he was to disappear afterwards…like any other assignment. Jamal was highly skilled in his craft…becoming invisible was never a problem.

>

Chapter Seven:

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/09/26/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-pt-7-loose-ends/

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/336010/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-pt-7-loose-ends

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt. 7)
~ “Loose Ends!” ~

 

Til Next Time!

 

 

Note:

Chapters Eight through Ten will be posted and available in the “New Year!” …the remaining adventure is to be available in ‘Paperback’ and ‘Kindle’ formats!

Thank You All For Reading, Being a Good Sport, and Supporting “The Willis Samuel Investigations!”

Be Sure To Get Your Copy When It Becomes Available In The Year “2019!”

Peace and Love,

“G”
“Twitter”

‘The Platforms of “Boulware Publications, Data Information, and Entertainment Enterprises”
~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

~“Article Posting Sites”~
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

~”Amazon”~
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

~”Twitter”~

https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash

https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

*/

 

 

 

 

 

#ShortStories #BlackAuthors #BookEnds #Boulware #TheBookMark #BoulwareBooks #ReadAloud #TheAmazonian #HBCU #IndieBound #BookIt2Me #KDP #TheStoryTeller #BlackAuthors #ShortStory #AStoryTold #BlackStoryTellers #ANeedToRead #ReadNeedy #TheNeed2Read #UnlimitedReading #UnlimitedBooks #BooksUnlimited #WellRead #Stories #ShortStoryTellers #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #eReader #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #Published #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #HarlemBookFair #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #AI #SOHOPress #Books #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #Edited #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #WordPress #Blogger #BlogSpot #WordStream #Polymath #RichardWright #PaulLaurenceDunbar #JamesBaldwin #ChesterHines #Erudite #TooFondOfBooks #UnitedBlackBooks #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #StephenKing #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #DeanKoontz #EdgarAllanPoe #RayBradbury #WilliamPeterBlatty #TheBritishBookIndustry #TheBritishBookAwards #BookSellerAssociation #BertramBooks #WellRead #BonnierPublishing #FMcM #FirstryGroup #Gardners #HarbottleandLewis #HarperCollinsPublishers #IPG #IndependentPublishersGuild #PublishersPublicityCircle #EastFallsHousingProject #EastFallsStories #FaceBook #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #TaleFlick

 

 

 

 

/*

 

“The Literary World Of Boulware Enterprises & Publications”

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/12/12/1150/

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-literary-worl…

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/339075/the-literary-world-of-boulware-enterprises-publications

Come… Enter The World of High Adventure!

Articles, Blogs, stories, & Books of “Boulware Enterprises & Publications!”
With Your Eyes, Ears, Imagination, & Intellect…You can Escape Into Realms and Regions of Untold Experiences and Populations…via ‘WordPress,’ ‘Amazon,’ ‘The BookMarketingNetwork, ‘Tumblr,’ ‘The Connect Platforms,’ ‘Pinterest,’ ‘Koobug,’ ‘Blogger,’ ‘GoodReads,’ ‘LinkedIn,’ ‘Ezine Online Articles,’ ‘Academia,’ and more…

View the plethora of Short Story Adventure of “HALLOW,” “HALLOWII,” “FAIRMOUNT, Terror In The Park,”: The Book and The Online Series! “The Bridge,” “Amontillado,” “The Pendulum of Hades,” “Demon’s Throat,” “Tattle Tale,” “Dante’s Walk,” “Bowery of The Crimson Frock & Flesh,” “Howl of An Angel,” “The Catharsis Table,” “The Egyptian Book of The Dead,” “Underfoot,” and a Whole Hell-of-a-lot More!
Explore your inner mind with “Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals…Enlighten you horizons and Educational Pursuits of IT, BI, Networking, AI, and Computer Skill-sets with “The One Thing I Know Is…” and the ever continuing “Anthology of An Essayist Compilation of Compositions!

Examine your Spirituality between the pages of “SPIRIT OF THE SOUL and THE DEATH OF MORALS!” – “We The Matrix,” “Descendant,” “Revelation,” “The Land of Oz and The Land of Babel,” “The Eye of Cain  Trilogy,” “Zarganar,” “The Awakening Dream,” holding more, much more…

 

The Option to Reading with your Eyes, is Reading with your Ears…listen to all of these stories, articles, blogs, books, and postings of “Boulware Enterprises & Publications” You’ll Be All The More Elated, Enlightened, and Enriched with ALL the content therein!

“READING IS THE MIND ON UPLOAD! …UPGRADE THYSELF…Today!”

 

“I was there when Captain Willis Samuel and National Forestry Service Ranger Commander Gerald Glenn confronted and eradicated the monster beast in the park. I didn’t like Glenn very much, although I admired him. He was damn good at what he did. It was his woman that I liked…loved and wanted.
Yeah, she was something else. Genailia put the whammy on me at the zoo. She definitely whipped my ass in that booth. But man, just to get the opportunity to be near her, to feel her voluptuously warm and supple body and that magnificent ass close to mine…was worth it.”

“Fairmount”:
“The angry piercing eyes of the thing were now upon them…Malcolm screamed. He was dreaming. His sleep was continually interrupted with nightmares. His parents considered psychiatric consultation. The constant nightmares caused great concern to Benjamin and Geraldine Xavier. “Will this terrible event never end,” asked Benjamin? “Our son will have this embedded in his mind for as long as he lives…what can we do to help him?””
https://www.amazon.com/Fairmount-Terror-Gregory-V-Boulware-ebook/dp…

 

>

‘Fairmount’ The Series:
Chapters One Through Nine…Ten to be posted
“A thunderous roar erupted just as Lindsey placed his hand on the last rock in the cliff, pulling himself up onto the plateau. Dirt and shrubbery flew all around as if a strong wind-gust blasted through signaling a squall in a rainstorm or twister. The boy could not believe his eyes. He nearly fell backward off the ledge of the cliff. But he knew subconsciously, that he had to hang on.”
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/

>

The Hallow Twin-Pack:
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text…

“Hallow I”
“The people who have been most eager to rule, to make the laws, to enforce the laws and to tell
everybody exactly how God wants things to be here on Earth – these people have forgiven
themselves and their friends for anything and everything. But, they have been absolutely
disgusted and terrified by the natural sexuality of common men and women.”

 

 

>

“The lips of black-robed judges appeared before him. They were whiter than the sheet of this printed page. Their lips displayed an unholy and terrible exaggeration. He saw this. His soul was spoiled…to revolution. He heard the sound of inquisitional voices. They seemed to be merged into one singular voice. He heard no more…for a time.
Fate was issuing from the lips of the black-robed men. What an expression of firmness and immovable resolution? My lord, the grotesqueness! The faces blazed with stern contempt of human nature. Fate continued, in his view, issuance from their lips. He saw them writhe with deadly locution. I shuddered to think what the man saw. The idea of delirious horror…”

“Who is it that actually runs this initially intended Anglo-Protestant-Hippocratic-Puritan society of government (i.e., “We The People,” which people?) working’s that’s riddled with corruption, racism, envy, hatred, oppression and suppression? Are they truly manipulated puppets of evil intent? How many of us remember that Satan was despised and cast out from heaven? Do you remember what he supposedly said and vowed to do? You may recall the infamous line – “It is better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven?” He made no bones about his hatred for mankind. He vowed to kill or destroy every man, woman, and child of humanity – “all of them by any means necessary!”
While he usually or never has a direct physical contact with the masses, others are at the behest of his directives and desire.”

>

“Hallow II”
‘The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging’
The Sun hadn’t risen to light up the world this morning. This pain-in-the-ass of a war has proven fruitless. It has put us all in a terrible bind. The ‘Blue-Bellies’ outside were laughing and joking right under the window of my jail-cell window. And as I recall, I think I could see several ‘darky’s’ planting, plowing, picking, and singing in the distance. The damned ‘Yankees’ have taken all that belongs to us…”

“One of many legends inspired by a 17th century monk by the name of ‘Johannes Kelpius of Transylvania.’
He led a mystical and mysterious cult under the guise of religion. The so-called religious order was housed in the woods of northwest Philadelphia. The meditations commenced and continued undisturbed and unmolested from about 1694 to 1708, Johannes’s death, into and beyond current day society.

Ballard believes the members of the religious order in the Wissahickon-Valley Green woods of Roxborough – Chestnut Hill – Germantown – Mount Airy vicinity and woodland still reside there to this very day. For the past three centuries, Dracula has reigned supreme in tales of darkness and blood-feasting. But the gothic and mysterious romance and blending ooze of hard facts tainted with fanaticism, has indeed planted the seed of intrigue into the minds of historians and imagination of people who believe in the mystical magical powers possessed in Kelpius and his ‘Philosopher’s Stone.’
The stone is an alchemical substance that has the ability to turn lead into gold.”
https://www.amazon.com/HALLOW-II-Portentous-Sagacious-Redolence-ebo…

 

 

>

“The Bridge” 
“The bridge was intended for destruction, stood over “Owl Creek,” bearing the plank that beard the weight of the doomed believer of the confederacy. Peyton Farguhar wished that he’d remained at home.
He was warned not to take action on his own by participants of this horrible conflict. After his capture and sentencing, he dreamed of home and family like so many Black Slaves once did, with his neck in a noose.”

 

 

>

“Amontillado” 
Smiling in his face, with the thought of his immolation while planning his death…he planned to kill or destroy him, a sacrificial victim.
Fortunato ruined the Montresor name due to greed and pride. The surviving family member sought vengeance.
Montresor suckered Fortunato with the tasting of a rare wine which was being stored in his basement. The two met while Montresor was out on a drinking binge. He challenged the expert wine connoisseur to a wine tasting contest thinking he was just as good an expert as he. His uncouth mannerisms were not shameful to him as it was to others who bore witness to his wretched ways.
His very attractive wife and her pet cat bore the brunt of his brutality and bestiality. This intrepid drunkard belittled her in every way until she found solace in the arms of another. This new lover shared her bed when the drunken man was out drinking up all of his money, leaving him to beg for coppers on the street after being tossed out from the bar.

 

 

>

“The Pendulum of Hades”
“Eyes were gauged out. Finger and toenails were pulled from their sockets with pliers and prongs. Whole hands feet and other personal membranes were forcefully removed while the victim watched – fully cognizant and alert. The young, the old, man, woman, and child were not safe from the sadistic atrocities including rape and sodomy.
The unholy things, to which these unworthy eyes have seen, should not have seen. I prayed that all I saw was just enough to sustain my sanity while watering the accused and swabbing out the cells. May God truly have mercy on their wretched lives.”
The man saw beheadings, dismemberments, hangings, stake-burnings, and other assorted physical and mental horrors. He was led away to bear witness to the contrary. The ‘Man’ did not know why he was chosen. The horrors described in the local taverns, hotels, and Inns by folk have proven to be simply folklore and stories for the kiddies… Until it truly happens to you, maybe, you’d know the horrors suffered upon the innocent as well as those who could truly be guilty.

>

“Demon’s Throat” 
“If I can’t have you…then nobody can!”
A home… A normal home that very well could be your next-door neighbor, your cousin, aunt, uncle, and friends and yes…your parents or any other closely related relationships. Her violations…she dared to make love with another…someone other than he – whom she has never known or loved. “I remember this familiar feeling, for about the third time in three months; of falling – falling down. The falling only came to an end for one reason – maybe two. The point is…I was able to grab onto something in order to break my fall. The primary reason is coming to a complete and utter dead end stop – at the bottom of the stairway, which began at the second floor landing. It didn’t necessarily matter to what position your body was in when this complete and utter stop completed the descent. Albeit, stair-steps and bottom of the stairway landings come into play, the stop is at the bottom of the stairs.”
Wynetta’s crouch took the place of Tawanna’s ass. At first he was pissed. This heifer took me away from the pleasure of a promised night. Wynetta’s gown was pulled up because she didn’t want to fall over the long white hem of the garment. She exposed her legs in order to jump for the flowered and catchable, but elusive, bridal bouquet. Her shoe-less feet enabled her to gain an advantage over the other excited le-femme-fatale. She jumped. She jumped up pretty damn high too. Tawanna didn’t. She was happy and comfortable with the warm grip underneath her flowing gown – her left cheek. She merely reached for the flowers in a disconcerted manner…a matter of show.

 

 

>

“Tattle Tale” 
The pounding noise would not stop. I had to find a way to make it stop. Don’t you understand? It had to stop! It began to pound loudly. It was too loud…very loud! Do you not hear it? It’s driving me mad, mad I tell you! Through the crack in the floor, the orb peered out.
It was fixated upon me! It glared at me all the time. I could not look upon it any longer…I had to make it go away, even if I had to pluck it out from the head of the old man while he sat in the rocking chair. That is why I had to put him and that “Vultures Eye” under the floor. It wasn’t his fault that the evil eye stared at me. It would not be able to gaze on me if it was under the floor.

>

 

 

“Dante’s Walk” 
#1 Is The Inferno
#2 Is Purgatory – middle kingdom of light and dark.
#3 Is Paradise – the third world, Heaven; the light. In his travels, he saw and met many things and people…twenty contemporary poets. A ‘Canto’ is a song, a poem, one of the major divisions of a long poem. Towards the end of his journey, he came to cross the Supreme Ruler of Hades, Lucifer.
Dante Aligari wrote and completed the ‘Divine Comedy,’ “Dante’s Inferno” in the year 1314. It told of his trek through the ‘Netherworld.’ There existed three kingdoms in Dante’s explanation of Hell.
He met kings, Queens, Princes, Dukes, and the like. He met people rich and poor, people he knew and didn’t know. He meets people from the past, some of which had long since been dead.
He also met Sinners from the future and present. He met all sorts of Devils in the multitude of ‘Realms of the Damned.’ The cantos I thru XXXVI tell of his pilgrimage from beginning to end, in “The Book of The Dead.”
The King of Hell was a giant among giants. The owner of the ‘Souls of Sinners, Supreme Ruler of The Damned,’ displayed three faces. In each mouth of one of the faces showed teeth anointed in blood; blood so thick and ample, it dripped foam.
In one mouth a head was being chewed. The body hanged while arms and legs flailed all about. The other two also held bodies, each one was a sinner. The first sinner, whose head being the first consumed, was that of Judas Iscariot. He betrayed ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ The second sinner along with the third plotted and murdered Gaius Julius Caesar.

 

 

>

“Bowery of The Crimson Frock & Flesh” 
Speaking of certain, albeit, limited, coincidences, understand that we, Mr.‘Eddie’ Poe and I, the Editor/Publisher, choose to speak of this topic. In my own heart, I cannot speak of his; there dwells no faith in the praetor nature. In past and probably, future conversations, men will debate the issue of the original intentions of God’s Laws. They may dispute that nature and its God are two. The latter creating the former can, at will, control and/or modify it. Would you not agree, my friend? The insanity of logic has, of course, assumed it is not that the Deity cannot modify his laws, the question is of will. Does man insult God with the imagination of a possible necessity for modification? Mr.Poe espouses the origin of these laws were fashioned to embrace all and every contingency which could lie in the future. All that one would need to do is to pay the strictest and closes attention with unwavering indulgences.
Adopted in Paris, the suggestion of the discovery of an assassin are founded in any similarity could quite possibly, produce a very similar result. Consider the most trifling variation of facts in this supposition. With respect to the latter branch, the two cases might give rise to the most important miscalculations. Thoroughly diverting the eventful courses, a mathematical error in which its own individuality maybe in appreciated by a process resulting enormously at variance with the truth. We must not fail in our understanding the calculus of probability, which forbids any ideas of an extension of the parallel effect. In proportion, this parallel has already been long-drawn and exactly on point. For example, nothing is of sixes having been thrown twice in succession in a game of craps, is a sufficient cause for betting against the odds, that a third pair of sixes could be thrown. This effect suggests usual reflection by an intelligent individual at once. It would be impossible to believe that the first two attempts would have any influence over the third throw. The chance that it would happen again would as precisely as it would have been on the first two throws. Yes? Let us not pretend the philosophical aspect needs no exposure. Would it not be sufficient to say that it forms one of an infinite series of mistakes–the rise in the path of reason through propensity for seeking truth in every detail?

Would you not agree…?

 

 

>

“Howl of An Angel”
“They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man…but where does one begin and the other end – Why is it the so-called educated do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?”
The ‘Chevalier’ endeavored to remove everything from his mind. His only thoughts were the case at hand. He began to relapse back into himself. His old moody habits regenerated into the morose ill-tempered individual of austere soliloquy.
Attempting to make light of a horrible situation, I joined my friend in throwing the future to the winds and fell tranquilly into the present. The presence and perpend of the previous days became a joyful dream, floating away with twinkling fog.
Ellington searched the globe for forty-plus years until he caught him for the third time. This time, he caught up with him in Istanbul. He was able to box him and ship him home to the United States. His home in Connecticut was a safe place to keep him (so he thought) – where he could be watched closely. Ellington lived alone save a housekeeper who tended household needs five days a week. She was given specific instructions to not open a particular door of one of the rooms upstairs. Ellington explained in great detail about why he had instructed her so. She listened intently but didn’t believe him. She was a good woman, a good housekeeper, one who could be trusted, a good God-Fearing Christian Woman. She thought him to be a nut – an eccentric old fool – a madman. She jumped nearly out of her skin when she heard the blood chilling howl.

 

 

>

“The Catharsis Table” 
Many of us, the guys, would come in and just say hey to Ronald and the dogs if they were close by. Sometimes we would get our drinks and join him in the living room in front of the 42’ inch T.V. The discussions varied upon which program did or said whatever as we passed a joint or two.
The targeted seating was around the table in the tiny dining room. Five chairs, four around the table, and one off to the side in front of one of the refrigerator units. The refrigerators, old as they may be, kept the beer cold. The six packs sold very quickly. The sixteen-ounce cans did better than the twelve-ounce cans. Sometimes the ‘Olde-E’sold better than the ‘Bud’ and vice-versa. The brown liquor and the white, was kept in the bottom of the buffet server while the extras went to the bottom of a storage cabinet.
Everyone came in and competed for one of the seats at the table. I’ve always preferred the one on the opposite side of the entrance way, against the wall, next to the window that looked out into the alleyway of the backyard. Everyone else liked that seat as well – but they knew it was for the group’s elite membership which included me.
The jokes would start flying nearly as soon as the evening greetings began and ended. Maurice was the king of joke-telling. That man could tell a joke and split the sides of everyone in the listening vicinity.
One joke in particular involved an alligator and a man’s penis.
…Buddy would then chime in on something he picked up along the way. We all knew that he couldn’t be out-done.
“I heard one about ‘Custer’s Last Stand.’ Just before the Calvary left the fort to fight the Indians, there was a lone insurance salesman. History records him as one of the biggest losers ever. There was this insurance agent named Lester Shackleford, who sold life insurance policies to Custer and his men on June 23, 1876… He sold sixteen. One of them was bought by the General Himself.”

 

 

 

>

“The Egyptian Book of The Dead” 
“HYMN TO OSIRIS”
Homage to thee, Osiris,Lord of eternity, King of the Gods, whose names are manifold, whose forms are holy, thou being of hidden form in the temples, whose Ka is holy.Thou art the governor of Tattu (Busiris), and also the mighty one in Sekhem (Letopolis). Thou art the Lord to whom praises are ascribed in the name of Ati; thou art the Prince of divine food in Anu. Thou art the Lord who is commemorated in Maati, the Hidden Soul, the Lord of Qerrt(Elephantine), the Ruler supreme in White Wall (Memphis). Thou art the Soul of Ra, his own body, and hast thy place of rest in Henensu (Herakleopolis). Thou art the beneficent one, and art praised in Nart. Thou makest thy soul to be raised up. Thou art the Lord of the Great House in Khemenu  (Hermopolis). Thou art the mighty one of victories in Shas-hetep, the Lord of eternity, the Governor of Abydos. The path of his throne is in Ta-tcheser(apartofAbydos). Thy name is established in the mouths of men. Thou art the substance of Two Lands (Egypt). Thou art Tem, the feeder of Kau (Doubles), the Governor of the Companies of the gods. Thou art the beneficent Spirit among the spirits. The god of the Celestial Ocean (Nu) draweth from thee his waters. Thou sendest forth the northwind at even tide, and breath from thy nostrils to the satisfaction of thy heart. Thy heart reneweth its youth, thou producest the…. The stars in the celestial heights are obedient unto thee, and the great doors of the sky open themselves before thee. Thou art he to whom praises are ascribed in the southern heaven, and thanks are given for thee in the northern heaven(s)

 

 

>

“Underfoot”
“MyVengeanceNeedsBlood”
~MarquisdeSade~
The Devil is a real person…a real person indeed.
I did not convey all that should have been…needed to be told regarding the old gentleman’s organs beneath the floor. The brief allusion as to what transpired according to one author who reported me as being so stupid a“tattle-tale,” that I’d spilled my guts to the gendarmes.
Ha…what a laugh! The misguided scribe had very little to report, as did Mr.Poe, who mentioned something about a heart thumping underfoot in the old man’s house. The first writer, as mentioned quoted:
A knock came upon the door…two men, plainly dressed in tie and coat, accompanied by two in uniform appeared. My eye peered at them through the semi-opened door. I opened it just a crack, as I did not wish for them to hear the pounding beneath the floor.

…and More!

 

 

 

In Kindle Format:
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text…

>

 

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’
~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-b…
New BCID: 823-13940945
http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945
New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

~“Article Posting Sites”~ 
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498
https://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/
https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~                                      http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=64…

~”Amazon”~ 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e…
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

~”Twitter”~ 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984

‘Virtuosity101.com’ 
http://virtuosity101.com/
http://virtuosity101.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288611/sankofa-never-to-forget
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288593/a-timeless-epoch-an-ingrain…
http://blackisms.com/education-2/
https://www.academia.edu/
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

>

Web Search & Research Tags:

#ShortStories #BlackAuthors #BookEnds #Boulware #TheBookMark #BoulwareBooks #RichardWright #PaulLaurenceDunbar #JamesBaldwin #ChesterHines #ReadAloud #TheAmazonian #StephenKing #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #DeanKoontz #EdgarAllanPoe #RayBradbury #WilliamPeterBlatty #HBCU #IndieBound #BookIt2Me #KDP #MirandaJames #KDCarter #VielNast #KRPooler #LucyMay #CindyFazzi #RozelynsBlog #ShanellisWilliams #BeverlyAbaird #CoffeWithLacey #AuthorAnthonyAvinaBlog #AmandaDiaries #JoyAntidotes #Indiewriter #TheStoryTeller #BlackAuthors #ShortStory #WellRead #AStoryTold #BlackStoryTellers #ANeedToRead #ReadNeedy #TheNeed2Read #UnlimitedReading #UnlimitedBooks #BooksUnlimited #WellRead #Stories #ShortStoryTellers #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #eReader #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #Published #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #HarlemBookFair #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #AI #SOHOPress #Books #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #Edited #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #WordPress #Blogger #BlogSpot #WordStream #Polymath #Erudite #TooFondOfBooks #UnitedBlackBooks #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #TheBritishBookIndustry #TheBritishBookAwards #BookSellerAssociation #BertramBooks #BonnierPublishing #FMcM #FirstryGroup #Gardners #HarbottleandLewis #HarperCollinsPublishers #IPG #IndependentPublishersGuild #PublishersPublicityCircle #EastFallsHousingProject #EastFallsStories #FaceBook #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #TaleFlick
>
Media:
#BlackAuthors #Boulware #BoulwareBooks #HBCU #ReadAloud #IndieBound #BlackWritersMuseum #onWURD #BoulwarePublications #12thTribe #BlackAmerica #SNCC #SCLC #NAACP #COAR #RepJohnLewis #DrKing #MartinLutherKing #Ghandi #Confucious #TheRevAl #MichaelCoard #CharlesBowser #Demonstration #Obama #MalcolmX #WEBDuBois #Kenya #March #FreedomRiders #FreePress #FreedomRides #PhillyTrib #PhillyTribune #FaceBook #BlackInAmerica #Hebrew #Judah #Yahshua #SojournerTruth #Sojourner #BlackHistory #BlackHistoryMonths #History #HerStory #KnowledgeIsKing #eReader #eReaders #TheDailyBeast #TheGuardian #BlackThen #P2P #HarlemBookFair #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #MindTV #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #BlackToLive #NAN #NationalActionNetwork #3rdEye #PaulRobeson #JamesBaldwin #AugustWilson #HealStorian #Zimbabwe #Ethiopia #Senegal #Uganda #Africa #TheIndigenousPeoples #FightThePowerThatBe #LDF #NavajoNationCouncil #NavajoCodeTalkers #Underground #AmericanIndianVeteransMemorial #NativeTeams #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #AIVMI #Revolution #Democracy #TheAdministration #ThePowerStructure #Deeds #Heritage #Segregation #Priviledged #Resist #Revolt #HumanBeing #Sanction #Boycott #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #Published #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #LifeStyle #CitizensOfCulture #IAfroFuturism #Wakanda #BigCats #globalcitizenship #Pinterest #Forbes #Robots #ArtificialIntelligence #AI #BBC #BBCNews #SOHOPress #VikingBooks #DoubledayBooks #Polymath #Erudite #PoliticsNation
>
Literary:
#Books #IndieBound #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #SelfHelp #BoulwareBooks #ReadWrite #BoulwarePublications #WordStream #ReadAloud #AmericaReframed #Entrepreneur #FaceBook #Ghosted #GhostWriter #Edited #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #Enterprise #Essayist #Author #Writer #SmokeyTheBear #YogiBear #TheBearFacts #Berean #CCPedu #TempleU #CheyneyU #LincolnU #PennStateU #Grambling #Clemson #TheMedia #NJNews #NYNews #PhillyNews #Published #LinkedIn #Chicago #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #IAm #IAmAMan #ManyRiversPBS #BooksAreMyBag #VoiceBoxLive #MindEye #BookSpots #Books2Readers #KDP #BookHub #TheBookHub #DarkHumour #CrimeFiction #TooFondOfBooks #WebsiteMag #IoT #TweetYourBooks #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #BlackInAmerica #TheRevAl #IAfroFuturism #Africa #BlackHistory #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #BlackHistoryMonths #Kings #BlackPanther #TChalla #KingJames #Wakanda #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #Hebrew #Judah #Yahshua #Galactic #eReader #eReaders #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #HorridLore #PromoteHorror #NightmareOnFilmSt #Horror #HistoricMystery #Polymath #Erudite #StephenKing #DeanKoontz #RayBradbury #WilliamPeterBlatty #HGWells #JulesVerne #EdgarAllanPoe
>
Networks:
#Technology #SelfHelp #BoulwareBooks #IndieBound #BoulwarePublications #ClickBait #CBC #WordPress #BlogSpot #Amazon #KDP #Tumblr #PinteRest #FaceBook #RepJohnLewis #TheRevAl #Serendipity #Universal #Ubiquitous #TheLearningKey #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #TheDailyBeast #TheGuardian #eReaders #ReadAloud #TheUltimateRadioNetwork #TheOrderOfThings #Software #DataSource #DataBase #ComputerWorld #Oracle #WebSiteMagazine #Wired #Networks #Networking #DataMiner #Dataminning #TheOneThingIknowIs #Nibbies #Algorithm #Syntax #IoT #RDBMS #SEO #CRM #CPU #SMO #SMM #iOS #MIS #IT #BI #ISDN #SOHO #OSI #EMR #ANSII #SCSI #Chip #PC #AI #DynaSet #RAID #SSL #GUI #APP #Elipse #SIMS #Boolean #SMTP #SPI #DB #SMS #GUID #SNMP #SOA #SOX #OLAP #FAT #ASP #SaaS #Nano #Program #EdTech #WebsiteMag #BlackAmerica #BlackInAmerica #Networking #IAfroFuturism #ExpeditionWild #Wakanda #AIVMI #globalcitizenship #Pinterest #Published #Forbes #BBC #BBCNews #MAAtEnterprises #Galactic #eReader #ReadersGazette #MIT #Polymath #Erudite #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #FaceBook #Tumblr #LinkedIn #Blogger
>
Publishers:
#HarlemBookFair #UnitedBlackBooks #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #IndependentBlackMedia #EzineArticles #ReadAloud #TheBritishBookIndustry #TheBritishBookAwards #BookSellerAssociation #BertramBooks #BonnierPublishing #FMcM #FirstryGroup #Gardners #HarbottleandLewis #HarperCollinsPublishers #IPG #IndependentPublishersGuild #FredNeuman #Nielson #PublishersPublicityCircle #TheReadingAgency #ThePublishersAssociation #OG #BoulwarePublications #IndieBound #KDP #Robots #ArtificialIntelligence #AI#TheAssociationofLearnedandProfessionalSocietyPublishers #Tesco #BarnesandNoble #NewAppleBooks #PandorasBooks #Nibbies #KDP #CongressionalBlackCaucus #NigelRoby #Published #Forbes #PCH #PublishersClearingHouse #SOHOPress #VikingBooks #DoubledayBooks
#NationalActionNetwork #NAN #ReadAloud #ShabbatShalom #AsSalaamAlaikum #Islam #Judaism #Hebrew #Muslim #BoulwareBooks

 

 

/*

 

“The Fall of Light” Chapter 8:

“Arc-Light From Atop” 

By 
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/338151/the-fall-of-light-chapter-8-arc-light-from-atop 

Chapter 8: “ArchLight From Below” 
‘Stroudesburg,’ ‘Tannersville,’ ‘Jim Thorppe,’ ‘Big Boulder.’ ‘Big Bear,’ and ‘Still Water;’ “Mount Pocono” 

On the way out of town, it was just as ‘G’ and the mountain guys said, there was nothing. And yeah, we were able to get scraps from the farmland region along the way up North, into the Pocono’s. 

We weren’t the only ones, it seemed, headed in this direction. We did see and come across many who have had the hind-sight to get the fuck out of Philly while they could. The farmland fields up from “Old Stenton Road,” paralleling “Germantown Pike” had been littered with debris while the crops all along the way had been picked clean. The five of us weren’t really comfortable in the cab of the truck, albeit, a ‘Ford F-150 Crew-Cab.‘ We had to take turns in our seating arrangement(s). We were not very small individuals. ‘G’ was larger than Me and Russell. The two mountain boys, “Arch” and “Sandy” were even bigger than him. When we slept, we utilized the bed of the truck, the backseat, and the undercarriage with sleeping bags, heavy blankets, and such…

We were able to gather some grain and corn from a couple of the farms along the way. The houses had been ransacked and devoid of sustenance. The furnishings, what was left, was all but destroyed and tossed about the rooms. Windows had been smashed along with mirrors, pictures, and other household goods. Many of the families had vacated the region for higher and safer grounds. They had been beseiged by vandals and attackers who raided their properties in search of food and supplies due to the unavailable resources within the city. The hapless farmers were preyed upon by roving bands of scavengers who cared not for anyone but themselves, in the name of “self-preservation.” They invaded their homes, stole everything in sight, confiscated animals, and if they had young daughters…the violent gangs took them too. Many of the farmers and their families fought back against this form of terrorism with weapons of their own, from shot-guns and pistols to sickles, hammers, swords, and axes. The successful ones remained on site, on constant guard against invaders of any kind; man or beast.

There were also those kindly farmers who took people in temporarily… They offered overnight shelter and whatever they had to eat to displaced travelers escaping the death and horror of the invaded urban regions; the conquered city of Philadelphia and surrounding area. Hunting in the vicinity was sparse as the wild animals who roamed freely; deer, birds, etc., evacuated in great numbers to the far rural north. They instinctively were aware of the danger all about…they knew before people did. Fortunately for us, the two mountain fella’s knew what to do with the grain and corn that we happened upon. They ground the grains into what could be described as a powder, ditto for the corn. The corn was mixed with grain, water, and whatever was growing about into a sort of spongy dough…they turned the stuff into bread that we were very happy to eat. The bigger of the two brothers, “Sandy,” used some of what was left of the grain and corn, turning it into something that we could drink…booze!

“Damn, man, this shit is booze, one hundred percent get-high booze! Where in hell did you learn to make this shit…where did you get the sugar? asked ‘Dre.’ I mean, how in hell were you able to cook this shit without a “Still” or some type of cooking apparatus?”

Sandy simply smiled and said, “I can’t tell ya…it’s a family secret only known to us folk in the Mountains.” 

“Aw c’mon man, who in hell am I gonna tell…you can tell me?” 

The big mountain man smiled again and laughed a big hearty laugh aloud and replied, “I bet you can’t wait to get things back to normal…after what you think or hope will happen, so that you can go and tell your “Homies” all about how you survived the holocaust of Philly and got a few secrets to sell, while making a fool out of a big dumb mountain man…right dude?”

“Aw, no my man, I wouldn’t think of such a thing…now as far as making a fool out a big dumb mountain man, such as yourself…I wouldn’t do that…and I’d make a fortune just the same.” Dre thought he was being funny, no one else laughed or smiled except him.

“Look you little punk-ass piece of shit…I wouldn’t tell your little black-ass a damn thing…nor anyone like you! I’d let your little punk-ass stay out here, get lost and starve to death as soon as look at cha! Now go fuck yourself…” 

The camp-fire blared and crackled as we sat there in the barn of the family who allowed us to stay for the night. Our faces were all glowing and shadowy silhouette(s) which appeared to dance upon the barn walls from the after-light. We were comfortably warm and sheltered.

“What the fuck did you say man?” Shouted ‘Dre,’ as he jumped up from the circle in an attempt to confront the big mountain man. Before he could make another move, ‘G’ reached up and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. The mountain man never moved, he simply smiled as he sat there attending his drink.

“Listen fool, this ain’t the city…it’s gone, long gone. If you want to survive out here, you need to learn some brand new skills and forget about all that bull-shit from back-in-the-day! …Got It? Now sit your stupid ass down, smoke this joint, and enjoy this man’s booze. It’s a gift…It’s impolite and insulting to belittle a man’s gift…especially one that is life-preserving”

“G” released him. ‘Dre’ was more than embarrassed…he walked over to ‘Sandy,’ extended his right hand and said, “I’m sorry Sir, I meant no insult or harm, I apologize.” He was sincere in his gesture.
‘Sandy’ let loose a bellow of roaring laughter and with one heavy arm, reached up and pulled ‘Dre’ down to were he was sitting. The startled young man was gasping for air as the mountainous-behemoth smothered him with a bear-hug.
“Here, let’s forget all about it…here, have a drink.”

He did.

The men felt relaxed and comforted as they ate, drank, farted, and laughed. They hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time. They joked about women and their past experiences before the invasion. They smoked some of the “Pot” that was picked up from one of the “Germantown” stash-houses on our way out of the city. We were now in what we thought was a safe zone…we were in the mountains.

We successfully worked our way up route 309 into the “Allentown” area of Pennsylvania. We continued on past “Bethlehem,” working our way into “Easton.” We stopped off at an abandoned fueling station just outside of the town. The entire region seemed to be empty of life, of people. Our fuel tank was nearing empty, just below the quarter mark on the gauge. Traveling into “Easton” we hoped to find people out and about, not thinking about the danger of the machines being here or having arrived. The danger here wasn’t the machines, it was the roving bands of gangs; on bikes, and otherwise; they who saw fit to take advantage of and victimize the citizenry of all they owned or possessed… They raided the stores, warehouses, and homes of the residents and merchants alike. The town had that bombed-out look…a surreal appearance of a city besieged with desolation, disease, death, and destruction. It was like the stuff one saw on television or in the movies.

We didn’t know what street or road we were on because the area residents ripped down the signs in hopes of roving bands not knowing, recognizing, or remembering where they had previously assailed. One family recognized that we were not the enemy and welcomed us. They explained all that had previously occurred and what was available and what wasn’t. The fueling stations were empty of gas and oil… ‘Archie’ intervened and asked where the nearest fueling station other than the one we’d passed, was located.
Arriving at the location; after a warm reception and meal, ‘Archie’ got out of the truck and examined the abandoned gas pumps. He motioned to ‘G’ to run over the pump(s) with the truck. I shouted at him, “Are You Fuckin Crazy? Do You Wanna Blow Us All The Fuck Up, Fool?” 
‘G’ ordered us out of the truck. He then put the F-150 in reverse for a few yards and revved the engine to a mighty roar and charged forward into and over the fuel pumps. Fortunately they weren’t mounted on islands. The truck went straight over and through the gas pumps, ripping them from their foundations. The twin pumps lay in tattered and shredded metal upon the ground as ‘Archie’ peered over and into the well(s), down into the tanks below ground.
“Learn this, even if the tank is empty when it is pumped, there is always something at the very bottom.” He proceeded in dropping a long hose down into the wide-opened neck of the tank. I don’t know where he dug up that old hand-cranking-pump, but he was very successful in getting the last drops of fuel from the underground gas tanks, without blowing up the place. We got enough to fill the truck to a three-quarter mark on the truck’s dashboard indicator.

Continuing on our way, we changed direction and headed toward route 611 from 309. We then entered and passed through “Stroudsburg” and into “Tannersville.” We saw signs that gave directions for “Big Boulder,” “Jim Thorppe,” “Big Boulder,” “Big Bear,” and ‘Still Water Lakes; on “Mount Pocono.” We opted for “Blakeslee” on route 940. There was minimal population here. We were greeted by several of the locals and invited to stay at their place(s). We accepted the invitation from an Indian Family. We don’t know what “Nation” or “Tribal affiliation” they belonged to. And we didn’t ask. The Father of the family warned us of the local ‘White Folk.’ Some of them held a bit of prejudice for folk of Colour…especially those who are deemed to be successful in residing in this area. He said people like his family either cut them off by not patronizing their businesses or establishments; pretending they don’t exist. It works, according to “Frank-Eaglefeather,” the Grandfather. “Although, Some families have been attacked at one time or another. The racial element here, is alive and well.” It was here, at their ranch, we decided to stay.

We had forgotten to lay low… The sounds and noises carry far and wide in the mountain night(s); not to mention the smells and aroma’s. Mr. Eaglefeather brought us some bear-meat he’d cooked earlier in the day. ‘Archie,’ ‘Sandy,’ and ‘G’ accepted the meat with gratitude. ‘Me’ and ‘Dre,’ “Hell No! We Ain’t Eatin No Bear Meat!” 

“Boy, let me tell you, when you get hungry, you’ll be glad you had this meat to eat. Your attitude tells me that you ain’t never been truly hungry…have ya?” The “Rhienstein” brothers looked at us with disdain…the look(s) almost ruined the festive mood. They looked at each other and laughed. “Wait until we pull out the snake for breakfast tomorrow!” ‘Me’ and ‘Dre’ looked at each other and then at ‘Archie.’ We laughed too…only we didn’t mean it.

Suddenly there was a loud and thunderous boom from up the hill, at the family house. Then we all heard a scream…we bolted for our weapons and the door. There was another thunderous boom. It came from the south-side of the barn. The wall fell in…it was pushed in from the outside! The wooden barn-wall splintered into a thousand pieces as the humongous beast burst in on us… It was the biggest grizzly that I’d ever seen. I’ve only seen them in “the Zoo,” never up close and in person…never like this!
In what seemed like an instant, the beast was in the room and charging for ‘Me’ and ‘Dre!’ ‘Archie,’ with weapon in hand, turned and threw himself in between me and the bear. His Cross-Bow had already discharged well before he became airborne. ‘G’ firing his “M-16” automatic rifle as he also moved to place himself between us and the beast.

The steel-jacketed arrow struck the grizzly squarely in the neck while bullets from ‘G’s’ automatic weapon raked holes throughout his torso and face. The animal was simply after the food it smelled. It had no idea, it would lose its’ life when entering this barn. It had no clue that these big “Jewish” mountain men where expert hunters, anglers, and all-around outdoorsmen. They reveled at this opportunity to take down a bear…especially one of this age and size. They were born and raised in the city of ‘New York.’ The family acquired real estate in the “Pocono’s.” The boys fell in love with the move and would be unhappy with any other location; the family left that life for that of the mountains; somewhere around the age of seven or eight.
The weight and forward motion of the bruin, carried it straight into the camp-fire. As it lay there becoming scorched, the attention was re-focused on the noise from the house. We all charged off in that direction…the smell of burnt fur permeated the barn as the fire was being extinguished from the fallen bear.
A body was on the ground upon our approach. It wasn’t one or the family members. It was a stranger…a white man. The front door flew open as we hit the first step of the front porch. The double-barreled ’18-gauged shot-gun was pointed right in the face of ‘G.’ The gun-holder managed to restrain himself just in time. He pointed his gun toward the ground as did his sons who were holding ‘Smith and Wesson Field Master 30-30’s. His daughters held bow and arrow, ready for launching. Knives were in every waistline sash of the Indian Men. The mother was screaming while the other children and relatives were crying. The Grandfather lay dead in the back hallway of the house, just outside the door-way of his granddaughter’s room. He had a bullet-hole in the middle of his forehead.
The window of the young girl’s room was shattered into a thousand pieces. Her bed was empty…
The remaining family members screamed to us, telling us of the exchange of gun-fire between the kidnappers and their Grandfather. They think it was four men…one in the front of the house while one came in through the kitchen. He kicked in the door. The other two burst in through the young girls bedroom window… Mr. Eaglefeather stuck him good, the one in the kitchen. He died before he hit the floor.

“Grandfather managed to stab and cut him from the waist up to his sternum. One of the men who came in through the window shot Grandfather as they carried away out sister.” 

I shot the motherfucker coming in the front door!” said the younger Mr. Eaglefeather. “Now I must go after the bastards who stole my daughter.” He and two of his sons were armed to the teeth with weaponry…light enough to not slow them in their haste. The other two were assigned to take care of and guard the remaining family members.

“Yo, my brother and I will aid you in this hunt. We cannot simply leave and know that we have left you and your loving family in such a state as this. I’m sure that my friends, our traveling companions will provide assistance as well, Brother Eaglefeather!” ‘Archie’ said as he reloaded his weapons.

“I’m coming with you.” said ‘G.’ 

‘Russell,’ you and ‘Dre’ remain here and help out with the family. The brothers will help you sort out the bear in the barn. Just sit tight until we get back…I don’t think there will be any cops to worry about. Many of them are too spread out to bother concerning themselves with the troubles of common folk, especially Indian(s). Besides, with the invasion and in-flux of immigrants, they’ll have their hands plenty full. The “State-Troopers” probably won’t bother either…not until they can clear their plates as well. Don’t worry, the family will know what to do…they’ll take care of the dead bodies. You boys don’t have to concern yourselves with all that…keep your weapons at the ready – at all times!” 

Next…

~ “War-Paint – The Hunting-Party!” ~ 

Til Next Time… 

“G” 
“Twitter” 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG 

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/search.cgi?processSearch=1&keywords=the+fall+of+light&go=Search 

“The Amazonian”
https://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0%20

>

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’ 
~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-books-by-boulware
New BCID: 823-13940945
http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945
New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

~BoulwareEnterprises~ 
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498
https://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/
https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~ 
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon” 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter” 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984

https://www.academia.edu/
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily 
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

>

Quatro! The Pack of Four…
https://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0%20 

Kindle Editions:

1.
“The Spirit of The Soul and The Death of Morals” Kindle Edition 
https://www.amazon.com/Spirit-Soul-Death-Morals-ebook/dp/B0795FCKZS/ref=la_B00OI16PDI_1_1_twi_kin_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1522506689&sr=1-1 

2.
“Fairmount”: ‘Terror In The Park’ Kindle Edition 
https://www.amazon.com/Fairmount-Terror-Gregory-V-Boulware-ebook/dp/B076G976LX/ref=la_B00OI16PDI_1_2_twi_kin_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1522506689&sr=1-2 

3.
“Hallow” Kindle Edition 
https://www.amazon.com/Hallow-Gregory-Boulware-ebook/dp/B01MDRWT7P/ref=sr_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1516147882&sr=1-9&keywords=Gregory+Boulware 

4.
HALLOW II – A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany Kindle Edition 
https://www.amazon.com/HALLOW-II-Portentous-Sagacious-Redolence-ebook/dp/B06WRVL9QF/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1522507717&sr=1-4 

KDP: 
The Four Pack: 
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Gregory+Boulware&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Gregory+Boulware&sort=relevancerank 

~”Boulware” in ‘Kindle!’~ 
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/16447677-boulware-in-kindle 

“Fairmount” – ‘The Series’ 
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/ 

*/

 

 

A Few Useful Tags: 

Up Close: 
#ShortStories #BlackAuthors #BookEnds #Boulware #TheBookMark #BoulwareBooks #ReadAloud #TheAmazonian #HBCU #IndieBound #BookIt2Me #KDP #TheStoryTeller #BlackAuthors #ShortStory #AStoryTold #BlackStoryTellers #ANeedToRead #ReadNeedy #TheNeed2Read #UnlimitedReading #UnlimitedBooks #BooksUnlimited #WellRead #stories #ShortStoryTellers #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #eReader #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #Published #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #HarlemBookFair #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #AI #SOHOPress #Books #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #Edited #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #WordPress #Blogger #BlogSpot #WordStream #Polymath #RichardWright #PaulLaurenceDunbar #JamesBaldwin #ChesterHines #Erudite #TooFondOfBooks #UnitedBlackBooks #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #StephenKing #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #DeanKoontz #EdgarAllanPoe #RayBradbury #WilliamPeterBlatty #TheBritishBookIndustry #TheBritishBookAwards #BookSellerAssociation #BertramBooks #WellRead #BonnierPublishing #FMcM #FirstryGroup #Gardners #HarbottleandLewis #HarperCollinsPublishers #IPG #IndependentPublishersGuild #PublishersPublicityCircle #EastFallsHousingProject #EastFallsStories #FaceBook #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel

Media: 
#BlackAuthors #Boulware #BoulwareBooks #HBCU #ReadAloud #IndieBound #BlackWritersMuseum #onWURD #BoulwarePublications #12thTribe #BlackAmerica #SNCC #SCLC #NAACP #COAR #RepJohnLewis #DrKing #MartinLutherKing #Ghandi #Confucious #TheRevAl #MichaelCoard #CharlesBowser #Demonstration #Obama #MalcolmX #Kenya #March #FreedomRiders #FreePress #FreedomRides #PhillyTrib #PhillyTribune #FaceBook #BlackInAmerica #Hebrew #Judah #Yahshua #SojournerTruth #Sojourner #BlackHistory #BlackHistoryMonths #History #HerStory #KnowledgeIsKing #eReader #eReaders #TheDailyBeast #TheGuardian #BlackThen #P2P #HarlemBookFair #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #MindTV #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #BlackToLive #NAN #NationalActionNetwork #3rdEye #PaulRobeson #JamesBaldwin #AugustWilson #HealStorian #Zimbabwe #Ethiopia #Senegal #Uganda #Africa #TheIndigenousPeoples #FightThePowerThatBe #LDF #NavajoNationCouncil #NavajoCodeTalkers #Underground #AmericanIndianVeteransMemorial #NativeTeams #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #AIVMI #Revolution #Democracy #TheAdministration #ThePowerStructure #Deeds #Heritage #Segregation #Priviledged #Resist #Revolt #HumanBeing #Sanction #Boycott #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #Published #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #LifeStyle #CitizensOfCulture #IAfroFuturism #Wakanda #BigCats #globalcitizenship #Pinterest #Forbes #Robots #ArtificialIntelligence #AI #BBC #BBCNews #SOHOPress #VikingBooks #DoubledayBooks #Polymath #Erudite #PoliticsNation

Literary: 
#Books #IndieBound #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #SelfHelp #BoulwareBooks #ReadWrite #BoulwarePublications #WordStream #ReadAloud #AmericaReframed #Entrepreneur #FaceBook #Ghosted #GhostWriter #Edited #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #Enterprise #Essayist #Author #Writer #SmokeyTheBear #YogiBear #TheBearFacts #Berean #CCPedu #TempleU #CheyneyU #LincolnU #PennStateU #Grambling #Clemson #TheMedia #NJNews #NYNews #PhillyNews #Published #LinkedIn #Chicago #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #IAm #IAmAMan #ManyRiversPBS #BooksAreMyBag #VoiceBoxLive #MindEye #BookSpots #Books2Readers #KDP #BookHub #TheBookHub #DarkHumour #CrimeFiction #TooFondOfBooks #WebsiteMag #IoT #TweetYourBooks #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #BlackInAmerica #TheRevAl #IAfroFuturism #Africa #BlackHistory #WarriorsOfTheMedicineWheel #BlackHistoryMonths #Kings #BlackPanther #TChalla #KingJames #Wakanda #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #Hebrew #Judah #Yahshua #Galactic #eReader #eReaders #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #HorridLore #PromoteHorror #NightmareOnFilmSt #Horror #HistoricMystery #Polymath #Erudite #StephenKing #DeanKoontz #RayBradbury #WilliamPeterBlatty #HGWells #JulesVerne #EdgarAllanPoe #StillWaterLakes #JimThorpe #ThePoconoMountains #Pocono #MountPocono #Tannersville #BigBoulder #Stroudsburg #Blakeslee #Allentown #Easton #Bethlehem #Germantown #HGWells

 

 

 

 

/*

~ “Monsieur De La Marquis” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/10/30/monsieur-de-la-marquis/

 

“It’s The Judges, Priests, and Bishops who are the real criminals and sexual perverts!”
~MarquisDeSade~

“The Most Impure Tale Ever Written!”

~”The Horror Of It All”~

 

Prologue:

Dr. Maitland – a collector of the occult and ardent student of the supernatural; tries to keep control of his life, the forces of unspeakeble evil bear down upon him. Given the opportunity to purchase the “Skull” of the infamous sadist and demonic supporter… “Murder From Beyond The Grave!”

The graverobbers, with their shovels, finally hit paydirt… The metal digging end of the tools hit the targeted object with a loud noisey echoing clang. The sound, at three in the morning…a cold, dark, damp, and windy morning. They continued in their labor of digging up the long dead bones and rotted flesh without so much as a pause. The brittle surroundings of wood once served as a coffin for this murdering corpse. Its’ body, once the lid was removed, resembled that of a young teenaged boy. It was indeed not the expected size of a fully grown man. It required no real effort at all in removing and carrying it away from its home in the ground.

One of the two “Body-Snatchers” complained of feeling a bit dizzy. The horse drawn cart of wood and metal wiggled and waggled, clanking and shuddering along the way over a dirt and rock covered roadway. After a few miles, the road became that of ballasts stones and smoothen gravel. They were in from the outskirts of town. In from the graveyard of corpses and death. The partner continued to complain of dizziness and hearing something speaking to him from inside his head… The first body-snatcher dismissed his friend’s annoying and ambiguous consternations.

The second thief screamed aloud. “I’m telling you, I think I heard something…wait a minute, I could swear, I say that body moved!”

“Yeah, we’ll just see about that.” said the first thief.

He pulled back on the reigns controlling the two horses. Stopping the cart, thief one grabbed one of the shovels while pulling the long dead and decayed body to the ground. Uncovering the wrappings and exposing the body of the stinking rotted flesh; the first thief, with the sharp digging end of the shovel, chopped off the head. He laughed aloud as his friend shuddered in fright. He nearly fell off the cart when the head was severed…it popped from a body covered in rotting aristocratic clothing and jewelry. The jewels and rings found their way into the pockets of the bodysnatchers.

Arriving at their destination, they unloaded the long dead body of the aristocrat. Its head wrapped in a dirty cloth. The headless body was delivered in the cart’s shipping ropes and wraps of straw and hay. They pounded on the door of the darkened residence. The wood laden letters on an overhanging sign read “Doctor Of Health and Sciences.” The door opened and a man beckoned them to enter.

The driver explained to the recipient of the dead remains and about their adventurous trip from the graveyard. The rest-stop and drink received at the neighboring tavern allowed them to refresh after a long morning of digging. The receiver hungrily grabbed the head and uncovered it…

The delivery men where paid in coin(s) most generously. They turned and left after inquiring about future assignments. The collector brushed them out. He wanted to be alone with his newly acquired possession.

They turned and left the premises. The two agreed to return to the tavern for more libation(s); women and song with their newly earned coin(s). However, they never returned to the tavern… The horse drawn cart showed up to the front of the Inn. The bartender knew the men were working; making a delivery up yonder road. Their bodies were found just south of the delivery point. Only less than a mile from the house, they were found dead in the mud of the creek shoreline, laying face down.

When the Sheriff turned the bodies over, the cause of death was revealed. The remainder of their blood sprayed its’ last squirt in his face. Their throats had been torn out…the local examining physician declared the wounds were in fact, made by human teeth. The identifying marks were unquestionably evident. No animal known, could have created or had teeth that resembled or matched those wounds.

The Sheriff pounded on the door of the health and sciences building. There was no answer. He ordered his men to find another way into the dwelling.

“Look in the windows and see it there is anyone about!” ordered the Sheriff. The deputies found nothing…nothing out of the ordinary as well. A horse-drawn cart pulled to a stop inside the pathway leading to the front of the house. A woman appeared. She inquired as to all the fuss. They in turn explained the details. She hurriedly rushed into the building with a key removed from her handbag. Once inside, they all were made aware of the eeriness therein. The woman entered the back room were the man; the flat’s owner mostly worked…his “dark-room.” An ungodly scream erupted from within the darkroom… The Sheriff and deputies rushed in to see what was the matter. The woman was horrified, standing in paralyzing shock against the far wall of the room…the body of her fiancé, was lying there in a pool of his own warm blood. He too had his throat torn out by what appeared to be human teeth.

The man collected rare items and artifacts…he had in his collection, statuettes of demons, tools of demonic practices, and books of all sorts relating to unnatural beings and their worlds. One collection or group of statuettes were the image(s) of “Lucifer,” “Mammon,” “Asmodeus,” “Satan,” “Beelzebub,” “Leviathan,” “Belphegor,” and a book listing the power(s) and existence of the evil of the “Ten Variety of Devils;” Not to mention the head of “Donatien Alphonse Francois, Count Marquis De Sade!”

The skull of the Marguis was nowhere to be found although his body remained. The headless body could not immediately be identified. It was laying next to a tub filled with acid…the kind that dissolves everything, clothes, meat, bone, skin and otherwise.

>

The chambermaid quietly entered the room. Her voluptuous body peered out from the folds of her unbuttoned robe. Smooth milkiness slipped through and revealed a beautifully sculptured silken thigh. She smiled. The darkened room allowed the view of this beautiful vision of loveliness…this marvelously innocently beautiful young woman.
She knew this undesired rendezvous would bequeath her a more desirable position in the household. Life was very difficult in 1768 Paris. Monsieur Le Marquis promised. He was not terrible of vision. His childlike handsomeness earned him many hours and nights of pleasure with the household servants…some of the female participants of “Donatien’s” sexual misadventures ascended to higher posts in the family employ, while others simply disappear, never to be seen again.
The French Aristocrat’s physical attributes left much to be desired. His physical stature as an adult male was less than a third in size. One could say his soft delicate body could easily be mistaken for that of a woman. Albeit, survivors of his bedroom antics reveled in their shared and varied descriptions. The off-campus conversations traveled fast among the village taverns and public accommodations like that of a rapidly spreading flash-fire. The prostitutes along the boweries were highly cautious when requests emerged from the castle… The overly cautious, declined the opportunities altogether. They remembered the ones who did not return. They spoke of one particular “Easter Sunday Morning” when a very pretty and innocent young woman was invited into the bedroom of the Marquis. She survived the notoriously explicit and cruel sexual exploits of the young and wealthy aristocrat.

He was known as a rebellious and spoiled child whose temper outgrew him. Donatien was introduced to these obscene practices between the age(s) of four and six by his uncle, a church “Abbot.” Obsessed with this affinity, the young Marquis continually practiced sodomy with as many prostitutes as possible. His man-servant often joined in as a participant of his many overnight or weekend-long sexual soirée(s). This particular young woman managed to escape her captivity. She vehemently denied a pleasurable encounter while in the company/custody of the “Marquis de Sade!”

The escapee, spoke of the horrible things that were done while she was there. She spoke of a decapitated dog, cat, and monkey. The hapless animals were supposed to be the exciting and engaging foreplay to impending sexual activities for all participants. On this occasion, it was only the Marquis and his man-servant and the lucky young virgin.
The poor little monkey wasn’t as fortunate as the young lady. His hands and arms were locked tight like that of his neck within the portals of a horrible yoke; a smaller model of the life-sized torture device.

The ominous grinning of the young mad man will forever haunt my soul. He smiled at me while he stirred the red hot coals of the fireplace with a long black poker.
He then motioned to his man to hold me still while approaching me with the poker in his right hand. He walked ever so slowly, menacingly, terrifyingly…I was very frightened, I was terrified! Despair possessed my every fibre! Monsieur de Marquis breathed a hot breath when he bit my naked breast nipple. He smiled a sinister smile. He laughed a sinister laugh. My blood ran cold. He smiled and laughed a hearty laugh after smacking my bared buttocks with his left hand. And just when I thought he would spike me…spike my flowered intimacy with that red hot poker…he turned suddenly, squealed a horrid squeal and stuck the red hot poker into the anus of the poor shackled monkey!
The poor little monkey screamed in ungodly agony! It screamed for what seemed like an eternity! I prayed for the poor little creature. I prayed that it would stop that ungodly noise. The sound caused my blood to run even colder (in spite of the heat generated from the fireplace) and caused my skin to crawl… Monsieur de Marquis danced and laughed and cried as he pranced in his nakedness out in front of me. I was held tight. I saw him draw a large shiny and heavy broadsword from the wall above the mantel. The sword was much too heavy for the little man to wield. He dropped it loudly upon the chamber floor. The noise it made could be heard everywhere when it clanged upon the cold stone floor.
Instead, he drew a long, curved knife from the waist-sash of his man-servant. He danced, laughed, screamed, and cried some more…he swirled and with one killing swoop, chopped off the head of the little screaming monkey. Its’ poor little body shivered and shook violently as its life-blood bathed the Marquis, squirting fluid out from the monkey’s neck. The Marquis smiled a horrible smile while he began to approach me. His bloodied hands caressed my bared skin from breast to foot.
It has been said, the practice of sodomy was commonly practiced among the aristocrats… I desired no part in these horrid acts of debauchery and evil. I was not thrilled with the idea of losing my virginity to a maniac at all. He was pretty though… He is royalty, I am not. I am just a lowly creature, a chambermaid who sought only a better life for myself and a sickly old grandmother. He fondled my virgin flower with his fouled bloody hands. His vicious tongue moistened my behind…and then the hairs of my forked crotch.
I thought I might like this pretty young man. He could not possibly be a danger to me. While pondering that thought, pain surged through my left side breast. The pretty man had bitten my nipple with his sharp white teeth. It bled. The warm red fluid ran down the contours of my belly into the naval pit. I screamed in agonizing agony…realizing this devil of a young man would surely kill me when he finished playing with my body! The pretty man lied to me about his promise.

He prepared to enter me while we were standing eyeball to eyeball. I was still held fast by his man-servant who pressed himself to my rear quarters, pushing and grinding his hardened penis against me. The Marquis still held the bloody blade in his right hand, his left gripped my waist on the right. I could feel him pull me close as I tried with all my might to resist… Just as I felt his manhood touch the entranceway to my virginity, the room was suddenly bathed in bright brilliant lantern-light and a loud angry thundering voice. The voice demanded to know what in “Satan’s Hell” was going on in this room?
The man-servant lost his grip upon me. He backed away rather quickly. I was relieved! The Marquis turned in anger while blinking from the sudden brightness of the unexpected brilliance.

His voice and evil demeanor changed when he was forced to explain to his father the goings on here.

I was ordered to dress and leave here as quickly as possible.

The elder Marquis and his wife, the parents of the little man did not offer apologies. His mother’s eyes revealed the sadness within. She gave me a hug. During this hug, a purse laden with coin(s) was forced into my quivering, shaking hands. There was no need to count the contents of the purse, for I knew from its’ heavy weight that the booty was well more than I would earn (or need) in my role as a chambermaid. It was more than enough to see me and my grandmother through many a year to come.
I was more than grateful to be given escort to my home by castle guardsmen. My grandmother who heard our approach, was very much relieved to know the horsemen were not coming for an arrest or on a raiding patrol…simply the safe return of her grandchild to home.

The DeSade family was embarrassed to know what their son was doing to many young women and boys in the immediate region.Many of his victims had been cut and tortured…some died. Several were reported to have been cut with sharpened blades and hot wax dripped into their freshly administered wounds. Finger and toe-nails have been removed from victims while under captivity of this mad individual. Others where lucky enough to exit the household with pay and the ability to boast of their explicit sexual encounter(s) with the young Marquis.

they were all lucky, LIKE ME! 

Stories have emerged regarding dismemberment of individuals while in the company or captivity of the Marquis. He’s written of many “Hellish Hellbound Lasciviousness” in his numerous manuscripts. It’s no secret among his known associates that the young aristocrat enjoyed collecting the severed heads of his many victims. …Sexual organs were his favorite.

After the Marquis was interrupted by his father, the parents desperately sought a rich wife for their insane son. They could not continually pay victims for their numerous and constant silence. Their coffers were depleting drastically. The money, somehow, had to be recouped.
Donatien’s insanity was introduced at an early age by his uncle. The child was delivered unto him at the age of four. He remained with him until he was about six. DeSade was also known to have an ever-growing temper as a rebellious and spoiled child. It is known that he once beat the French Prince severely. This occurred while he was spending time with his uncle in the South of France. Threatened with death by “the Crown,” he was returned to Paris to attend the “Lycée Louis-Le-Grand School.” Flagellation was the prime punishment at the school. He was the subject of severe “Corporal Punishment” on numerous occasions. The art of violent acts became his obsession for the remainder of his life.

After finally being (formerly) caught, the court decided to make and example of him by banishing him to exile in Italy.

Married life did not eliminate DeSade’s sexual pursuits. In order to continue his desired and perverted way of life, he rented out rooms everywhere and anywhere he could, in order to continually and privately carry out his intense fantasies. Albeit, stable in social status, the family financial holdings had drastically decreased due to the many, many “payoffs for silence”; surviving victims who threatened to complain to the authorities.

Donatien Alphonse Francois, Count Le Marquis DeSade took to wife, “Renée-Pelagie De Montrevil,” daughter of a wealthy government official (in 1763).
On occasion, soirée’s were held. Many of the people who were his victims (missing bodies) attended as well as the invited guests and relatives. They (the missing) attended not as expected by the invited, they simply showed up in the many served Pies, Custards, Tarts, Pâté, Cooked Meat, Ground Powders, etc. The guests, as usual, continued to kiss the ass of Monsieur de Marquis; complimenting him on the delicacies of the evening – their delightful enjoyment in the rare taste(s)…the rare Cuisine and drink.

Born in Paris, France, Monsieur Marquis DeSade, a.k.a, “Donatien Alphonse Francois, on June 2, 1740 entered this world. Diplomat in the Court of Louis XV, was his father’s station. His mother’s position was “Lady-In-Waiting” to the (the Crown) Queen. Born into the life of the elite (elitism) its easy to understand DeSade’s fluent access to servants who praised and flattered his every move.

Donatien’s father, Joseph, left his mother, Marie Eléonore de Maillé de Carman, for richer and younger pleasures…refuge in a convent was her only option; divorce was not an option…there was no such thing in the French Court of the powerful elite and the Church. Needless to say what effect this has on the younger DeSades’ mental stability…again it was challenged…put to the test.

The Catholic Church adamantly denounced his published writings.

“They depict debauchery, evil violence, loathsome criminality, and blasphemy against the church!”

The Marquis and his wife brought into this world, three children. She had vast knowledge of his heinous practices. She had grown weary of their marriage long ago…his behavior of course, tested her limits to near insanity. …Divorce, in reiteration, in those days, was all but non-existent; an impossibility.

DeSade had been arrested on several occasions due to suspicion or rumor. People began to discuss his open-private-escapades of paid-to-play pleasures…“sexual orgies” throughout the locations of rented rooms.
One of his first serious offences came when one of the non-familiar prostitutes complained to the authorities. She told them how she was forced to utilize a crucifix into their sexual activities and orifices. Even though her body was for sale, she felt the perverted acts demanded, were all Blasphemous to the Church and God!

He was immediately arrested.

DeSade’s societal Stature allowed an early release from prison. He ever so promptly returned to his evil haunts and bold practices of sexual perversion.

DeSade made good use of his time in prison, the fourth time around; while incarcerated, he wrote fifteen manuscripts which included the sweet and virtuous “Justine.”
Images of tortured naked women danced around in his hallucinating head. Juliette and Justine are two orphaned sisters who resided in a “Nunnery.” When their father died, they were evicted and moved in with Juliette’s friend. Fortunately, the girls were left a bit of gold by their father. Un-Fortunately the friend’s abode turned out to be a brothel. The friend is the brothel’s owner who wants the girls to earn their keep by lying on their backs and spreading their legs – from the front as well as the back; anal sex…prostitution!
Juliette earns a good stable living while Justine, who rejected the demand, leaves the house only to be accused of theft, prostitution, and murder. The elder sister marries a rich nobleman, the younger is arrested, falsely accused, and sentenced to death after being lied to, tortured, raped, and continually persecuted.

DeSade also pinned “The 120 Days of Sodom” during his prison stay in “The Bastille” (1785).

According to posted recordings, the story relates to several wealthy “Libertines” who desired the ultimate sexual gratification via orgies and such. They enjoyed enslaving teen-aged victims and sexually torturing them. Tales were told by four old accomplished prostitutes. The old women utilized anecdotes of depraved careers. Their stories were supposed to inspire or to sexually arouse the particular characters into explicit acts of depravity.
The four old broads were aged 48, 50, 52, and 56. They all have given vivid descriptions of themselves. One is described as having her three inch clitoris tickled only by females. She says that she is a virgin while her rear is large and flabby, worn from use so much that she feels nothing in that area at all. Another says she is especially excited by anal sex. Her particularly natural deformity prevents her from having any other kind of sex. And another of them who happens to be missing one breast-nipple, six teeth, an eye, and three fingers, stated her anus was so large that she also couldn’t feel anything there.
The captive harem of thirty-six teenage male and female victims are forced to listen and engage in these types of sexuality stories of abuse and torture – which intensifies, ending in slaughter.

DeSade outlines “the six-hundred passions” in the story with a warning to his so-called “Friendly Readers.” The incredibly “Lawless and without religion Super-Rich protagonistic libertines” had nothing and no one to obey. They only recognized their “Imperious Decrees of Perfidious Lusts.” Ironically, the Marquis despised authority and religion. He considered Judges, Priests, and Bishops to be the real criminals and sexual perverts.

The inscribed authoritative aristocrats came to wealth by the process of inheritance. One of them poisoned his mother and his sister. Another is described as being tall, strong, highly sexually potent, powerfully built, and being a devote and complete coward. The next one is a scrawny weakling with a vicious and nasty mouth. He is a lover of sodomy. He refuses vaginal intercourse. And then their friend who is tall, lanky, a frightfully filthy individual who delves in voluptuousness. He is a judge who loved to hand out death sentences. The last deviate is described as one who is a banker. He is short, pale, and effeminate.
All of these predators have abused their own daughters for many years – all of them (the victimized daughters) die. These authoritarians have kidnapped young boys and girls who were chosen simply for their beauty and virginity. The libertines intended to deflower the girls while especially defiling them (all) anally. Their ages were between twelve and sixteen years.
For some reason, DeSade wrote about four elderly women who were chosen for their ugliness in contrast to the beauty of the children. One of them, strangled all fourteen of her children, another was hunchbacked, blind in one eye, and lame. The next one had no teeth or hair. She never wiped her ass throughout her lifetime. Every one of her orifices stank to high heaven. The last one is described as having hemorrhoids the size of a very large and manly fist hanging from her ass. She was nearly always drunk, vomiting constantly, and suffered from fecal incontinence. They all served as cooks and servants.

Being short on writing material, Donatien feared the long scroll of paper smuggled to him, would be confiscated and/or destroyed. However, the “Bastille” was stormed on July 14, 1789, at the beginning of “The French Revolution.” He said he “wept tears of blood” because he believed his written works were lost to him during “the Bastille Siege,” gaining him his freedom. Much of his written work portrayed men with simple passions, i.e., masturbating in the faces of seven year old girls, urine drinking, (coprophagia) coprophagial (Eating Feces) scatology, vaginally raping female children, incest, flagellation, sacrificing, sacrilegious activities, having sex with Nuns while watching Church Mass proceedings, deflowering young virgins vaginally and anally, evening orgies, criminal activities – just short of murder, sodomizing babies as young as three years of age, men who prostitute their own daughters while watching them being raped, mutilations of men and women by tearing out their fingers and toes, burning them with red hot pokers, the skinning of children while alive, dismembering pregnant women, burning alive entire families, killing newborns babies in front of their mothers, vaginal mutilation, intestines being pulled out of sliced open belly wounds, the pin-pricking of breast nipples, and murder – the killing of women who are being raped atop beds of nails.

Captured escaped survivors (and those who did not escape) almost always seemed to disappear…

The described characters consider these practices as normal, and routine, to sexually abuse very young children, male and female while a lot of attention is given to the consumption of feces – it is considered to be a delicacy as designated by “The Chapel For Defecation.”

“The Most Impure Tale Ever Written!” – The many missing bodies were known to have been fed to two Rotweillers (male and female), two Irish Wolfhounds, and two Doberman Pinschers…bodies were made ready for dog food, and fodder for gardening, soups, pâté, and man eating fish and reptiles in castle moats or ponds – the soups and other foods were often served to invited guests of the Marquis and his associates.

DeSade convinced the members of the “New Regime” that he was a victim of the old authoritative aristocracy (Govt.). He amazingly was released from prison and welcomed into the new government – “The Rise of Napoleon Bonaparte!”

(Madame De Montrevil, DeSade’s Mother-In-Law had had enough of this evil…she petitioned the King, incarcerating him for thirteen years – arrested in Feb. 1777 – 1790). How he managed to escape the guillotine is beyond the quess of this author… However, it is known that “in 1801, Napoleon Bonaparte ordered the arrest of the anonymous author of Justine and Juliette. DeSade was arrested at his publisher’s office and imprisoned without trial; first in the Sainte-Pélagie Prison and, following allegations that he had tried to seduce young fellow prisoners there, in the harsh Bicêtre Asylum. After intervention by his family, he was declared insane in 1803 and transferred once more to the Charenton Asylum. His ex-wife and children had agreed to pay his pension there.”

The French Aristocrat, philosopher, Criminal, Sadist, Elitist, and Author who became notorious for his (and that of his conspirators in acts of sexual cruelty), as well as his writings, was finally committed to an insane asylum. After it was found that he had carried out a sexual relationship with the thirteen year old daughter of an employee of that same asylum. That information made its way to the court in or about 1810. He was then locked away from the main populace of the institution…Desade met his death on December 2, 1814 while incarcerated in the mental asylum.

Epilogue – “The Curse”:

The grave of the Marquis was defiled and raided by “Bodysnatchers” – “Graverobbers” who dug up and sold the Marquis’ remains to wealthy collectors. These men collect, trade, and share these rare and mysterious artifacts. A cleaned and polished smaller than usual skull being the most valuable of collectibles. Along with “The Skull of The Marquis DeSade” was a book…a rare thing indeed. It told the life story of the Marquis and its binder was made of pure skinHuman Skin.

Upon the death of the last owner of the book and skull, his partner and solicitor came to call at his flat. He was there to assess his partner’s assets and valuables. An unexpected visitor came to call. She too had come to collect her things…little did she know, she would not be leaving the flat with her valuables…she would not be leaving at all except after death!

An artifact, a sacrificial knife laid upon a table. The skull was sitting there as well. The man examined the tiny skull of his partner’s belongings and tossed it aside, it was of no value to him. He noticed after turning, that the damned head-bone had vanished into thin air…where had it gone? No one was in the room except him. The partner’s woman was packing and collecting her things in the next room…

The unsuspecting solicitor was going about his duties, when he heard a voice call to him…he did not know from where the voice had ventured. He only knew that he had to obey its commands.

The solicitor came to consciousness while in police custody. He did not know how he came to be in this place. He explained to the investigator all that he had known to be true. It did not matter to them, the authorities. They had their man for the murder of the woman packing her things in the tiny three roomed flat. The blood was on his hands and clothing – he swore to Heaven and the God above that he was innocent…it did not matter.

He was guilty as charged.

So Sayeth the court…

When they came to hang him, he was already dead. It was a great mystery. How had this man’s throat been torn out? He was alone in his cell, awaiting “the Hangman.” How is it that he came to his death in this fashion? There were no dogs or attack animals about! How did this man meet his death, cheating the gallows that awaited him?

His spilled spouting blood left no trail…

“One is never so dangerous when one has no shame, than when one has grown too old to blush”
~Marquis DeSade~

 

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN!”

 

 

Til Next Time…

 

 

“G”

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

~ “The Pendulum of Hades” ~
http://thependulumofhades.blogspot.com/

~ “Demon’s Throat” ~
http://demonsthroathallow.blogspot.com/2011/12/demons-throat.html

~ “Howl Of An Angel” ~
http://howlofanangel.blogspot.com/

 

>

 

/*
~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498
https://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/ https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~

http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id= 641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter”

https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash

‘Virtuosity101.com’
http://virtuosity101.com/
http://virtuosity101.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288611/sankofa-never-to-forget
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288593/a-timeless-epoch-an-ingrained-memory
http://blackisms.com/education-2/
https://www.academia.edu/
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

>

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’
~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-books-by-boulware
New BCID: 823-13940945
http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945
New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

 

*/

 

 

Source/Credits/Acknowledgement(s):

“Marquis DeSade” – Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marquis_de_Sade
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=the+death+of+the+marquis+de+sade

“The Skull of The Marquis De Sade”

 “The Skull”
(The Evil of The Marquis DeSade / Life of The Marquis DeSade)
Paramount Pictures, Legendary Films
Peter Cushing & Christopher Lee

Helpful Tags:
#TheChurch #Libertine #Marquis #Obscenity #Sodomy #GospelOfEvil #Napoleon #The120DaysOfSodom #Justine #TheFrenchRevolution #France #Pornography #Sadism #TheBastille #Sexuality #Depravation #Depraved #Insanity #Society #BoulwareBooks #Clitoris #Penis #Penile #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Halloween #Mystery #Thriller #DoubleChiller #BodySnatching #GraveDiggers #BodySnatchers #BodySnatcher #BorisKarloff #BelaLugosi #Horror #TheMarqisDeSade #Defecation #Scatology #Coprophagial #Pâté #Satan #DevilWorshipping #Elitism #TheElite #Elitist #Zombie #TheLivingDead #TheWalkingDead #Sadist #Sadism #Sadistic #Demons #Demonic #DemonsThroat #Wealth #Wealthy #Rich #Elitest #Degradation #Gratification #Cruel #Cruelty #EdgarAllanPoe #eReader #eReaders #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #HorridLore #PromoteHorror #NightmareOnFilmSt #Horror #HistoricMystery #Polymath #Erudite #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #BiSexual #Novel #Passion #Orgy #TearsOfBlood #Asylum #CountDeMonteCristo #RayBradbury #HorridLore #PromoteHorror #NightmareOnFilmSt #Horror #HistoricMystery #WordPress #Pinterest #Amazon #Blogger #Blogspot #BoulwarePublications #TheHuffingtonPost #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #MindTV #Metro #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #BlackToLive #NationalActionNetwork #3rdEye #PaulRobeson #JamesBaldwin #AugustWilson #HealStorian #HBCU #CCPedu #BereanInstitute #Berean #IndieBound #BlackWritersMuseum #onWURD #BlackAuthors #Insidious #Evil

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

/*

‘Fairmount’Willis Samuel Investigations Pt. 7:

~ “Loose Ends” ~ 

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/336010/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-pt-7-loose-ends 

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’ 
(Pt. 7) 

~ “Loose Ends!” ~ 

Ref: “FAIRMOUNT” Chp. 22 “Dungeon Lair” – ‘Son of A Witch’ 

“This morning, I’m off to court.” Willis kissed Elizabeth, his wife, as he was preparing to exit the house. After entering his officially city assigned car, he radioed in to sign into shift. While traveling, the traffic light changed to red. He dialed up on the cars “hands-free mobile interface,” to his sergeant and case partner.

The phone rang and a voice answered.

“You got Me…speak on it!”

“Yo Warren.” 

“Hey man, what’s happenin…What’s going on Chief?” 

“Well ‘Good Brother,’ I’m off to face what I’ve been waiting for; for quite awhile, the last sentencing phase of the most horrible of case(s) to date. The sentencing part of the shit case from back in the day a bit; Oct. 2001 – Nov. 2011. I don’t know if you can ever forget the “Dungeon Queen Case” of Tacony. Could you?” 

“Hell no… How could anyone ever forget that shit boss? That bitch had the thing going on in that evil place… Right under the noses of all the folks in “Tacony” as well as the ‘Welfare,’ and ‘Social Security’ officials. I’m so glad that we were able to wrap up that shit-fucking case.” 

The ‘She-Devil’ “Linda Ann Weston” and company lured those poor bastards into that hell-fire-of-a-location on Longshore Ave. in the Tacony section of Philadelphia and three other cities as well. The case was investigated by the Social Security Administration, the Philly Police, The Office of the Inspector General, the FBI, and the IRS, and a couple other agencies, including Captain Willis Samuel.

When “Bitch-Weston” convinced the mentally handicapped individuals to move in, the game “was afoot!” She became the soul benefactor to the ill-gotten riches of deceptive devilment. She was privey to their ‘Social Security Benfits,’ as well as any and all ‘State Grants, disability benefits, and/or monies…i.e., becoming the “The Payee!”
Once in captivity, the gang would often move the victims to other locations, state-to-state in order to elude social services and other law enforcement agency detection. They intentionally targeted victims who were basically estranged from their families while offering them a place to stay…permanently.
When the victims attempted to launch an escape, eat something, or make protest to their confinement, they were punished with whippings, slappings, punches, kicks, stabbings, burnings, and/or other forms of deceptively evil and lascivious torture.

The U.S. Attorney’s office stated Weston, McIntosh, and the other gang members defrauded the Social Security Administration when they targeted, captured, and held captive the extremely vulnerable, mentally disabled adults who happened to be qualified to receive disability benefits, and converting them for their personal use.

Two deaths occurred with the resulting intentional mistreament. One of the victims died at the 2211 Glenview St. location, in the “Castor Gardens.” The other at the “4724 Longshore Avenue Apartment House” in Tacony: in the soiled sub-basement. The daughter of ‘Linda Ann Weston,’ “Jean McIntosh,” is expected to receive forty years to life, for her role in the horrifying case. She is thirty-eight years of age. The decade long racketeering enterprise led to a multi-count indictment of the leader and gang members as well. “The Dungeon Queen” has received life imprisonment with an additional eighty plus years…ending the nightmarish saga and torture of innocents; of this horrible creature and her most stupid lackeys.

“I’ll see ya after I leave the courthouse Warren…meanwhile we need to get a foot up on the disappearance of “Stevie Cliff, a.k.a., Sarah Millford,” The Don’s Mistress, where in hell has she vanished to? The other thing is that body in “Germantown.” I know we’re supposed to show a little bit of respect for our fallen brethren, but this killing has me wondering what in hell the dude was up to when he got involved with the neighborhood drug connection. Did he deserve what happened to him? I don’t know… All I know is that we have a dead body case to solve and we damned well better get to the bottom of this shit asap, or it’s our heads that will roll.”

“Cap., there is something fishy about their connection(s). His partner is not telling all that she knows…she knows something. What’s her involvement with this deal?”

“Don’t worry about it for now, we’ll get to her movements really soon. I know she’s dirty and she knows that I know she’s dirty…we’ll get it all in the wash…I’m out.”

The captain signed off.

Upon his leaving the Philadelphia Court House, before he could get to his car, his cell-phone went off…he’d just now turned it on. The other officers excitedly began screaming into their portable radio’s…a hot call came in to the police air-waves.

Two officers were reportedly hit by a man in a car in the “Tacony Section” of Philly!

The calls came in with loud with blustering reports of “POLICE FATALLY SHOOTS MAN AFTER HE HITS COPS WITH HIS CAR!” 

Willis was in his car by this time…updated report.

“Police said at four-ten p.m., six ‘PPD Narcotics Field Unit Officers’ were conducting surveillance on the 7100 block of Cottage St. They were preparing to execute a search warrant for narcotics on a Mr. Jeffrey Dennis, thrity-six years of age. He resided on that block. The detectives said that they noticed the subject driving a car in the area and attempted to stop the vehicle with their vehicles. The police were reported to have been operating three undercover vehicles at this time.

One officer shattered the window of the driver’s side door while the other discharged three rounds from his gun, striking Dennis in the head and left arm. Another officer demanded that the target shut off the his vehicle’s engine, demanding him to shut the fuck up and get out of the godamned car. They all said that he began striking their vehicles in an attempt to elude capture.”

Mr. Dennis was dead! He was pronounced dead at the scene when the rescue team arrived.

When supervisional officers arrived on the scene, the cops on assignment began to explain how the victim had attempted to hit them with his car. They said he was successful in striking three officers in his attempt to escape. One cop sustained a leg injury while the other two were being transported to area hospitals just as Captain Willis pulled up.

The description(s) to the incident seemed a bit out of the norm…and a bit too pat in light of what was in appearance at the scene and the explanation of a few witnesses.

They postponed this inquiry with stated public news reports of “the information being in its early stages, as it is and possibly will be subject to change.”

The radio screamed again…

“IN PROGRESS…A SHOOTING IN GERMANTOWN, ON GREENE ST., AT ABBOTTSFORD AVE., MAN DOWN!” And just as soon as I was headed to that location, another tragedy was squawked over the Police Communications Network… “ATTENTION…ATTENTION…ALERT…A CHILD HAS BEEN SHOT!” That call location was in the North Philly Section of town. How in hell could I be in two locations at the same time? Many of the evening shift are at the Tacony location and/or on other calls throughout the city. There was a stabbing in the “Point Breeze” area of South Philadelphia…another bad scene was in the Northeast part of town. That tragedy was a “Hit and Run.” The dead woman was aged sixty-four. The pickup truck was recovered along with the driver. That scene had to be secured and locked down. On the Boulevard, a van jumped the guard rail and was caught by its undercarriage, hanging off an overpass…it was fleeing the scene of a shooting investigation in “Olney.” 

“Warren…did you get that?” 

“Yeah Chief…on the way as we speak!” 

Til Next Time…

 

 

Part 8:
“A Reckoning Is A Coming” 

***
Here’s A Really Big Reader (and Followers) Surprise Bonus! – “FAIRMOUNT”
Chapter #22, Page 119:

Chapter 22 – ~”Dungeon Lair”~ (The Dungeon Queen)

 

“FAIRMOUNT” – Terror In The Park!

No one could believe that she lied to school officials about the abuse, that she was crazy; she had him committed to the Eastern Pennsylvania State Psychiatric Institute because she wanted to collect an additional Supplemental Social Security check…
“She was the brains of everything, she was in control of everything! Man, she ran the whole fuckin thing…the fuckin, the suckin, the ass lickin, and toe suckin. She fucked me, him, her, and all of them! If you let her, if you allow her…she’ll fuck you too!”

A young twenty-seven year old Black man described “The Dungeon of Horror” re-telling the story of what his Momma did to him and many others during her hours of business and pleasure.

They titled him the “Son of a Witch.” Madam Weston’s son tried in vain to tell folks about the “Dungeon of Death – The Dungeon of Hell.”
The Department of Human Services knew whom and what she was when they released all of them into her custody.
The story was told to reporters by a boy who was experiencing his first taste of freedom and joy. He told of his escape from a dank, dark, and musty basement in Frankford. Frankford (Tacony) is located Northeast of center city Philadelphia.

Linda Ann Watson kept him and others chained for months at a time over a period of years. On many hungry occasions, the boy and his fellow prisoners survived on nothing but “Kool-Aid laced with drugs and Ramen noodles.” The drugs kept them groggy and controllable. The system failed them. The Family Court Judge, his department of human services caseworker, teachers, and school administrators, mental health professionals, and police repeatedly failed him and his siblings – they failed them all. The boy’s momma made him and his siblings scrounge for food. She forced them to steal from grocery stores. She imprisoned them for a whole year – down in that basement. The oppressive behavior caused the children to miss a whole year of schooling…and nothing was done about it. She gave them drinks blended with medications to make them sleep in order to maintain the reception of Welfare Checks. They’d wake up hours later knowing the drinks were laced…but they were thirsty – they had no other choice but to drink the stuff. They were constantly confused and disoriented. How were they to testify to anything? Who were they able to reach out to?
The young man described his mom as smart, manipulative, and conniving. She was able to pull the wool over the eyes and elude the authorities in at least four different states for a period not less than thirty years.

Gregory Thomas, Eddie Wright, Jean McIntosh, and the brains of the gang, Linda Ann Weston were finally arrested. They were charged with kidnapping and related offenses. The charges stem from the discovery of four mentally disabled adults in a dirty, urine-reeking sub-basement dungeon inside a ‘Tacony’ apartment building. The elaborate but simple scheme was established to steal the social security checks from the victims. With this twist and the DPW bennies from her drugged out kids, she and her cohorts were making a killing – living like kings.
A reporter allegedly took evidence from the crime scene, said a newswire report. She acquired a defense attorney to represent her while Wilbur H. Settimyer, Philadelphia’s District Attorney, called for a Grand Jury Investigation into the incident. The mayor and Harold R. Nicklestein, City Controller, made reference to the case when the question was posed by one of the attending reporters. They professionally dodged the question like it was the plague. They frowned and smiled when necessary while only answering with “We’re looking into it as we speak!” The report also unearthed the possible linking of the dungeon queen to the death of a woman who resided in Chester Gardens.
Weston’s son was an infant when his mom was arrested for imprisoning her sister’s boyfriend. She was reported to have locked him in a closet while starving him to death. The siblings were sent to live with a paternal grandmother. The young man stated an aunt abused him and his brothers, when they later went to live with her. The boy also said it was bad but worse when living with his mom.
“It was horrible – really horrible.” He fought back tears while pressing his fingers to his forehead and wiping his eyes.
His cousin, a good cousin, was startled by their appearance when they showed up at her door. He’d been living in the park. His face and hands were dirty. His hair was thick and unkempt. His clothes were filthy and ragged. He had foul order as well. He didn’t want to tell her about his mom, but she ventured a guess – she knew.
“At the end of the day, nobody wants to see their mother locked up.” 

The boy lived on the streets for a while. He hustled for chump-change by helping people carry groceries to their cars in the North Philly area.
“My cousin treated me like I was own son,” said the young man. She tried to get the kid back on track. She took him to a nearby public school, but the cops detained her and interfered with the positive progress. The school had a report that the cousin had kidnapped him. The ill-informed cops handcuffed the good woman. The boy pleaded with them to let her go. He told them how his Momma had beaten him and his siblings – they ran away. The principal called the boy’s mother. She was asked to come into the school for a meeting – she didn’t show. The cops went to the woman’s house in Frankfordshe was gone. The boy was allowed to remain with his cousin.
Working with school officials and Job Corp. representatives, his cousin gave her approval for his induction into the corp. The cousin and her sister drove the young man to the 30th Street Train Station. He was due to board a train to the program site in the Pocono Mountains.
While standing in the station, they were acutely surprised to see the boy’s mother walking quickly towards them. The boy’s eye’s widened in fear. They seemed the size of saucers. The horror of seeing Weston, “The Dungeon Queen,” he darted out of the station as she gave chase. He never once looked back. It was like seeing the demons of hell. That was the last time he saw his mother.
The cousin chased Weston, who was chasing the boy outside or the train station. The cousin caught up with the Dungeon Queen, tackled her to the ground and sat on her. Upon the takedown, the cousin realized she had a knife in her hand. The Dungeon Queen screamed in agony, “I wasn’t going to stab him – I wasn’t going to stab my son! I just don’t want him to go to no Job Corps – that’s all!” 
The Dungeon Queen feared that she would lose her son’s welfare checks if he went into the corp.; his checks were being mailed to the woman’s home in Frankford. The loss would slash her treasured income.
Despite all the kids’ been through, today he is a success story. He has been working at a West Philly restaurant for several years while becoming an assistant supervisor and crew chief. He said, “I come out from under it, I’m a better person. All we want out of this ordeal is for out mom to get better – to be sane.” 

“DHS asked us if we wanted to live with our mom or go into the system to live with other people – people who are safe.” 
They chose their mom. The kid was about ten years old then. He was in the fifth grade.
After serving about four years in jail for third degree murder, she was released. She went to court in an attempt to regain custody of her children. The children had no idea of what she was in jail for. DHS, however, did know. They knew exactly who she was and what she had done. They released the children into her custody anyway. They were all, at a young age, returned to their mom.
A family court judge approved the custody arrangement. A DHS caseworker was assigned to check in on the kid and his young siblings. He called to check in on them for a few months when they were first released into Weston’s custody.
A local Philadelphia newspaper reporter attempted to interview the DHS spokesperson that declined to speak. She said state confidentiality laws prohibited her from talking about the case – any DHS case. 
The reporter attempted to make contact with the caseworker. He didn’t return the telephone messages. However, his wife did pick up the telephone on one repeated call. She confirmed that her husband was or at least had once been the children’s caseworker. At that particular time, the kid, his two siblings and two half siblings, both infants, did live with their mother.
“Basically, she couldn’t feed us – she couldn’t take care of us,” said the young man of their precarious situation. The kid also said he tried running, but never got far. Weston always caught up with him, until his final escape. His sister was forced to do, as their mother ordered of she would be chained down in the basement like he. She was also a victim. It got to the point where he felt as if his sister’s back was up against the wall, as she got older.
“I guess she felt obligated to our mom,” he said.

The cops said the kid was attending the ‘Roberto Clemente Middle School’ when his mother locked him in the basement for a year. After she freed him, a ritual of hers, she would move him to another school.
The kid added, “I tried to talk with teachers about our situation – our abuse, but they wouldn’t listen.”
A spokesman for the Philly school district, said the district doesn’t have access to DHS records – and even if they did, if there were abuse complaints in his file; confidentiality laws would prevent him from discussing the case.
The school officials did set up parent-teacher meetings. The kid’s mother told them “He was basically psychotic.” She later had him committed to the Eastern Pennsylvania Psychiatric Institute. She claimed, “He was crazy and hearing things.”
They released him once they found out he wasn’t crazy. They felt he was sane. The release decision made Weston feel more frustrated because they wouldn’t give her an SSI check.
The kid turned sixteen years old on July 4, 1998. His mother unchained him and allowed him up out of the basement – to do laundry. He then went outside in the backyard of the Frankford home to hang clothing on a clothesline. He jumped the fence, ran and never looked back.
He was in survival mode. At the time, he said he felt bad about leaving his siblings. There was nothing he could do. He savored the ‘Boyz II Men’ concert and the fireworks display out in Fairmount Park. He was relished by the warm summer air and freedom.

“Til Next Time”… 

Part 8:
“A Reckoning Is A Coming” 

“G”
#BoulwareBooks 
Twitter
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash

>

‘The Platforms of “Boulware Publications, Data Information, and Entertainment Enterprises”
~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites” 
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/ 
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498 
https://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/ 
https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104 
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all 
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659 
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~ 
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon” 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile 
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter” 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG 
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361 

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily 
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423 

*/

The Willis Samuel Investigations:
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/search.cgi?processSearch=1&keywords=Willis+Samuel+Investigations&go=Search  

 

Chapter Links:

~ “FAIRMOUNT”: ‘The Willis Samuel Investigations!’-The Series ~
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

“Ironically Speaking!” (Intro):
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333148/ironically-speaking

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt.1)
~ “A Four Cornered Phling” ~
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt.2)
~ “The AR-15 Incident” ~
Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333201/the-ar-15-incident-pt-2-willis-samuel-investigations-fairmount

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt.3)
~ “Bus Drivers Do It At Their Stops!” ~
Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333230/bus-drivers-do-it-at-their-stops-willis-samuel-investigations-the-series 

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt.4)
~ “Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold!” ~
Willis Samuel Investigations: ‘Fairmount’
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/333689/willis-samuel-investigations-revenge-is-a-dish-best-served-cold 

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt. 5)
~ “A Career Voiding Dance of Tomorrow” ~
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/334330/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-the-series-pt-5-a-career-voiding-dance-of-tomorrow 

“Fairmount” – ‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt. 6)
~ “Without A Trace” ~
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/335026/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-pt-6-without-a-trace 

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’
(Pt. 7)
~ “Loose Ends!” ~
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/336010/fairmount-willis-samuel-investigations-pt-7-loose-ends 

 

 

Just a few Tags and Such:

#Philly #NYNews #PhillyNews #LinkedIn #Essayist #Author #ShortStories #Writer #BoulwareBooks #VJMiller #TChalla #TChaka #Prophet #Uganda #BlackPanther #eBooks #Egypt #Nigeria #Zimbabwe #Senegal #Chaka #Zulu #Boycott #UndergroundRailRoad #AmericanIndianVeteransMemorial #AIVMI #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #TheHuffingtonPost #NationalActionNetwork #CitizensOfCulture #IAfroFuturism #onWURD #12thTribe #BlackAmerica #PhillyTrib #Wakanda #EzineAuthors #EzineArticles #AR15 #M16 #Tech9 #9mm #18Gauge #45Auto #OverandUnder #RoadRage #Pedestrian #ShotGun #Mobed #ShortStories #Fantasy #Fiction #SciFi #Adventure #Philadelphia #Gentrification #Politics #TChaka #Prophet #Uganda #BlackPanther #eBooks #Egypt #Nigeria #Zimbabwe #Senegal #Chaka #Zulu #Boycott #Underground #AmericanIndianVeteransMemorial #AIVMI #BookSpots #TweetYourBooks #WriteIntoPrint #AuthorsDen #MediumDailyDigest #TheHuffingtonPost #HarlemBookFair #UnitedBlackBooks #MosaicBooks #NationalBlackBookFestival #IndependentBlackMedia #TheBritishBookIndustry #FredNeuman #TheBritishBookAwards #BookSellerAssociation #BertramBooks #BonnierPublishing #FMcM #FirstryGroup #Gardners #HarbottleandLewis #HarperCollinsPublishers #IPG #IndependentPublishersGuild #Nielson #PublishersPublicityCircle #TheReadingAgency #ThePublishersAssociation #OG #BoulwarePublications #IndieBound #TheAssociationofLearnedandProfessionalSocietyPublishers #Tesco #BarnesandNoble #NewAppleBooks #PandorasBooks #Nibbies #KDP #CongressionalBlackCaucus #NigelRoby #Published #Forbes #Holmesburg #Tacony #Northeast #Fairmount #Shaman #TheDungeonQueen

 

 

 

 

 

 

/*

‘ESQUIRE’

~ “Appeasing An Appetite” ~ 

By 
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/335786/appeasing-an-appetite 
~”Amazon”~ 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 

“HallowI” and HallowII” 

Hallow: 
Inspiring or creatine horror, loathing, aversion, etc., centered upon or depicting terrifying or macabre events; a horror movie. Such a feeling as a quality or condition – a strong aversion, abhorrence: to have a horror of emotional outbursts. Informal: something considered bad or tasteless…an overwhelming and painful feeling caused by something frightfully shocking, terrifying, or revolting, a shuddering fear; to shrink back from a mutilated corpse in horror. Anything that causes such a feeling; killing, looting, and other horrors of war…

~”A Sojourn Into Now and Then!”~ 

Hallow II:
Even a man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the ‘Wolfsbane’ blooms and the Autumn Moon is bright!” They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man…but where does one begin and the other end – why is it the so-called educated do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?”

A Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision – “A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany!”

>

…A man called the other day. 

We have been inundated by telephone calls by marketing agents over an over again on a daily basis. They have attempted to sell money (Loans), credit cards, education, insurance, social security opportunities, dishes, magazine subscriptions, automobiles, home security devices, hearing aids, etc. Placing our telephone number on the “Do Not Call List(s)” have not stopped these moguls from getting through with their annoying offerings – to which we, of course, were/are not interested. Has this happened to any of YOU? We have resolved to rely upon the “answering machine” in order to screen all calls. This individual marketer, in an attempt to get us to answer the phone, used a unique concept in his success. This guy said that he was “My Online Publicist” and he couldn’t wait to talk to me…he couldn’t wait to discuss my book, “Hallow II.” My first question, without answering the phone, was…how in hell did he get my home telephone number? And why is it that he wanted to discuss only the one book as opposed to the other six – (the remaining two have yet to be published)?

Well, just in case the man is/was legit, I’m hopeful that he will call back or at least send me an email… Otherwise, he is simply one more caller who insists on selling me something (or attempting to collect something). I have to give him credit though, if he was some sort of collector or marketer, cudos to you for your imaginative and beguiling attempt to get us to the phone. However, should he be a reader or follower of my written works, I welcome the communication – if not, “Please Leave Your Name and Number and We’ll Get Back To You As Soon As Possible!” 

>

In Reiteration for your Edification: 

…Someone asked my wife, “Is your husband a lawyer? I didn’t know that you were married to a lawyer!”
Just in case many of you have not been paying attention…”Esquire” is not a title only assigned to the legal community. The definition or title of “Esquire” is applied to:

those who are deserving or earned of such a title or recognition…learned, accomplished, eruditely, prodigious, a polymath, and/or possibly motley, etc.

Esquire_11.29.15
Dictionary.com/Webster, Etc.:

“Applied to a commoner considered to have gained the social position of a gentleman.”

~ An unofficial title of respect, having no precise significance, sometimes placed, especially in its abbreviated form. ~

>

…And yes, at my age (accomplishments and experiences), I do consider myself to be a “Gentleman”“An Honorable Gentleman, Indeed!” 
(ex.)
http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Gregory_V._Boulware/121107/achievements 

There are, according to my current knowledge, three persons who carry the name, “Gregory Boulware!” They are of course, myself, my son, and my grandson.

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
Gregory S. Boulware, Sr. 
Gregory S. Boulware, Jr. 

>

[es-kwahyuh r, e-skwahyuh r]
Spell Syllables
Examples Word Origin
noun
1.
(initial capital letter) an unofficial title of respect, having no precise significance, sometimes placed, especially in its abbreviated form, after a man’s surname in formal written address: in the U.S., usually applied to lawyers, women as well as men; in Britain, applied to a commoner considered to have gained the social position of a gentleman.
Abbreviation: Esq.
2.
squire (def 2).
3.
a man belonging to the order of English gentry ranking next below a knight.
4.
Archaic. squire (def 1).
verb (used with object), esquired, esquiring.
5.
to raise to the rank of esquire.
6.
to address as “Esquire.”.
7.
to escort or attend in public.
Origin of esquire Expand
late Middle English Middle FrenchLatin
1425-14751425-75; late Middle English esquier < Middle French escuier < Latin scutarius shield bearer, equivalent to scut (um) (see scutage ) + -arius -ary
Dictionary.com Unabridged
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2015.
Cite This Source
Examples from the Web for esquire Expand Contemporary Examples…

It pays to know what it is that one talks or speaks before passing conclusive comments and/or judgments…they should pick up a dictionary or at least check in out Online… 

…Would you not agree?

So, I say to that person or persons unknown, being honorable and recognized for such does not exclude one from being an “Esquire,” It is not truly reserved for those who consider themselves elite or exclusive or members of the legal community or the bar association.

Prima Facie:

“At first appearance; at first view, before investigation.” 
https://www.dictionary.com/browse/prima-facie?s=t 
https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=Prima+Facie 

[Latin, On the first appearance.] A fact presumed to be true unless it is disproved.

In common parlance the term prima facie is used to describe the apparent nature of something upon initial observation. In legal practice the term generally is used to describe two things: the presentation of sufficient evidence by a civil claimant to support the legal claim (a prima facie case), or a piece of evidence itself (prima facie evidence).

For most civil claims, a plaintiff must present a prima facie case to avoid dismissal of the case or an unfavorable directed verdict. The plaintiff must produce enough evidence on all elements of the claim to support the claim and shift the burden of evidence production to the respondent. If the plaintiff fails to make a prima facie case, the respondent may move for dismissal or a favorable directed verdict without presenting any evidence to rebut whatever evidence the plaintiff has presented. This is because the burden of persuading a judge or jury always rests with the plaintiff.
https://legal-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/prima+facie 

>>>

~ Hallow ~

“Amontillado,” “The Bridge,” “The Pendulum of Hades,” “Thane of Cawdor,” “Necklace,” “The Foxy Grandpa,” “The Awakening,” “Amongst Us,” “Dante’s Walk,” “Demons Throat,” and more…

“All Hallows Night”
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/?s=%E2%80%9CAll+Hallows+Night%E2%80%9D+ 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=299011&cid=10 

 

“SHAMAN” 
They were not aware of the trouble that was amiss. Emergency vehicles were parked at the spot where the body of Lindsey Irvin lay at the bottom of the twelve hundred ft. drop from the cliff of the Strawberry Mansion roadway and bridge surface.
“The Colored Man was chased and treed in the woods in or near the Robert Faddis Woods near Youngsburg. The Black Man tried to shoot himself in the head, but failed. They took the Black Man to the hospital were his injuries were treated. A gang of white men broke the window in the main hallway, corralled the police officer guarding him and dragged the Black Man from his sick bed to the Sarah Jane Newland Farm just to the right of the road and almost directly opposite the farmhouse. In a grass field about fifty feet from the road, they gathered dried Chestnut Rails and old fencing to build a fire. It took all of three minutes to get the fire up to a height of ten feet or more. They asked him if he had any last words…he didn’t.
(To Appear In The Publication of “HALLOW III”)

“The Sickening Smell of burning Flesh” 
http://shamanretold.blogspot.com/

“Thane of Cawdor” 
By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
~11.15.11~
http://blackhistory.com/content/290622/thane-of-cawdor 

Shakespeare – A Tale of Honor, Battle, Murder, and Deceit! 

Story #4 Within The Pages of ‘Hallow I’ 

The brief appearance of a trio of witches and then moves to a military camp, where the Scottish King Duncan hears the news that his generals, Macbeth and Banquo, have defeated two separate invading armies—one from Ireland, led by the rebel Macdonwald, and one from Norway. Following their pitched battle with these enemy forces, Macbeth and Banquo encounter the witches as they cross a moor. The witches prophesy that Macbeth will be made thane (a rank of Scottish nobility) of Cawdor and eventually King of Scotland. They also prophesy that Macbeth’s companion, Banquo, will beget a line of Scottish kings, although Banquo will never be king himself. The witches vanish, and Macbeth and Banquo treat their prophecies skeptically until some of King Duncan’s men come to thank the two generals for their victories in battle and to tell Macbeth that he has indeed been named thane of Cawdor. The previous thane betrayed Scotland by fighting for the Norwegians and Duncan has condemned him to death. Macbeth is intrigued by the possibility that the remainder of the witches’ prophecy—that he will be crowned king—might be true, but he is uncertain what to expect.
http://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/macbeth/summary.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Macbeth
http://www.openculture.com/2015/09/young-orson-welles-directs-voodoo-macbeth.html

>>>

The year of Our Lord is 1587. 

Mantieth, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and the True King of Scotland tell of revenge for the murders caused by MacBeth and his Lady.

In the evil dominated atmosphere, three witches, being bored conceived the notion to use someone to entertain them. Mischief was the notion; MacBeth came to be chosen. Along with his nag of a wife, the witches began put forth the notion of his greatness by way of death.

His wife plotted the murder of Duncan, King of Scotland. Lady MacBeth would do anything to gain the throne, even commit murder. MacBeth is also guilty. He wanted power over men. He stood by and allowed his wife to carry out her plot for ambitions sake. On the battlefield, he was great and victorious.

MacBeth, now being king, with the intention of keeping in that way, had Banquo murdered by assassins. Fleance, and his son, escaped. Macbeth hired assassins to murder them. He normally despised men hired for killing.

His evil demeanor had no bounds once he acquires the throne of Scotland. MacDuff, being the one to openly question MacBeth, is also targeted for murder. He poses a threat to the truth of Duncan’s death.

MacDuff’s family is murdered while in the care of MacBeth. Malcolm, a soldier, a brother to Donalbain, both sons to King Duncan, true heir to the throne is careful in trusting MacDuff. He fears MacDuff is loyal to MacBeth. It has been reported that the brothers were bribed and suspected of killing their father as being the reason for their flight; Donalbain to Ireland and Malcolm to England. After Duncan’s death and funeral, Macbeth was crowned King of Scotland and Lady MacBeth as Queen. The coronation took place at the royal palace. Obviously, the party was unattended by Donalbain and Malcolm.
In attendance were attendants to the King and Queen, Lennox, Ross, and many noblemen. They were high lords of the realm as were many others who were in attendance to the banquet at ‘Inverness Castle.’ Several ghosts were also in attendance to the affair as well. Hectate, an elder of the witches, scolded the three for their deed of mischief without consulting her. She was not in agreement with their choosing MacBeth. She ordered them to make things right. They did as they were told.

They cast another spell and the four of them celebrated around a fired black cauldron of witches brew, chanting in unison, “Something Wicked This Way Comes!” MacBeth and his Lady were being haunted in their dreams, asleep and awake, constantly.

The King was hounded not only in his sleep, but while he was awake, drunk or sober. The major message in the haunting was a constant warning, “Beware MacBeth, Beware MacDuff!”

In England, Malcolm and MacDuff planned revenge against MacBeth.

He could have gained the throne thru his valor alone. Duncan, the King, was old and on his way out. I believe that he had more faith in MacBeth than his own two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain.

The act of Duncan’s murder was heinous. Lady MacBeth not only poisoned him, but also stabbed him with the daggers of his bedroom guards. Not to mention, the dagger of the mind. Macbeth killed them both – innocent men.

MacDuff, another soldier of the king, is the first to ponder MacBeth’s guilt in the king’s murder. He later becomes nemesis to MacBeth. MacDuff suspects Lady MacBeth as well. Banquo was with MacBeth when the witches interviewed him; knowing of the prophecy, he immediately knows that MacBeth is responsible for the King’s death. Banquo also fears for his life and the life of his son, Fleance.

The prophecy had come to light and MacBeth would probably kill him for being witness to the murderous deeds. MacBeth would kill his son for being prophesized to rule Scotland. MacBeth did not want the throne to belong to anyone but he and his bloodline.. His bloodline would never rule for the prophecy told of Banquo’s descendents being the future rulers.

At the field near MacBeth’s castle in Donsinance, Malcolm, MacDuff, and a soldier called Siward and Battle-men of England approached. They carried battle arms, flags, drums, and the branches from trees and shrubbery. From within the castle walls, in the distance, a woman screamed!

The report also entailed a trick to the eye. They believed that they saw the Forrest moving!

“There is movement in the wood!” 

Suddenly, the tower guards spotted a showing of arms and war power. The battle bell rang! A Nobleman’s Army, led by Mantieth, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, and the True King of Scotland. The revenge of the murders caused by MacBeth and his Lady, the spell cast by the coven of witches, came to pass with the battles end. Decapitation was MacBeth’s end.
His Lady’s fate was off the top of the keep’s battlement bulwarks and walls.

Malcolm, the King of Scotland thought aloud as he viewed the impaled bodies on the battlefield; MacBeth’s head was mounted atop the stake in the forefront.

“I wish that our missing friends were here, safe and sound.” 

>

~ “HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED!” ~ 

 

~ “Demon’s Throat” ~ 
“I remember this familiar feeling, for about the third time in three months; of falling – falling down. The falling only came to an end for one reason – maybe two. The point is…I was able to grab onto something in order to break my fall. The primary reason is coming to a complete and utter dead end stop – at the bottom of the stairway, which began at the second floor landing. It didn’t necessarily matter to what position your body was in when this complete and utter stop completed the descent. Albeit, stair-steps and bottom of the stairway landings come into play, the stop is at the bottom of the stairs.”
http://demonsthroathallow.blogspot.com/
Me and Walter had five kids, ya know.”
(Read the Unabridged, Uncensored Version)
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p2992

“When There’s No More Room In Hell”‘The Dead Shall Walk The Earth!’ 
My name is Salestian Michaels. I’m currently employed by the ‘Philadelphia Sunny Globe Newspaper Organization and International News Network.’ I was born and raised in South Philly, the heart and soul of ‘Mafiosi Life.’ Angel Brondidi and Nick the Needle ran it all when they weren’t at odds with one another.
I was there when Captain Willis Samuel and National Forestry Service Ranger Commander Gerald Glenn confronted and eradicated the monster beast in the park. I didn’t like Glenn very much, although I admired him. He was damn good at what he did. It was his woman that I liked…loved and wanted.
http://nomoreroominhellwhen.blogspot.com/
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=299011&cid=10 

~ Hallow II ~ 

“The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging,” “Underfoot,” “Howl of An Angel” – pts. One and Two: “The Loch of Satanus,” “Bowery of the Crimson Froch and Flesh” pts. One through Three: “The Wedding Party” and “Isle Manhatten: The Changeling – Loup Garou,” “The Catharsis Table,” “When There’s No More Room In Hell,” “The Egyptian Book of The Dead,” and a hell of a lot more…! 

>

“HALLOW” the ‘Kindle Edition!’
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MDRWT7P
and
In Paperback!
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1468003402/ref=kinw_rke_rti_1

‘Hallow I and II’ 
~The Kindle Edition~
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&field-author=Gregory+Boulware&search-alias=digital-text&text=Gregory+Boulware&sort=relevancerank

A Concise Bibliog. of: Gregory V. Boulware has the admiration for many fine, noteworthy, and esteemed authors. Several of which include, Middleton A. Harris, Isaac Asimov, William Shakespeare, Alexander Dumas, Langston Hughes, Edgar Allen Poe, and a host of literary writers and authors. His written works and style of writing speak for his lifelong desire to become an author. He has spent the majority of his life as an affirmed and avid reader. He won the second place essay award while attending college. This did not sway his desire for pursuing and improving his writing skills. Gregory graduated from The Berean Institute College of Business and Technology. He also studied Management at Philadelphia Community College and classes at Temple University via The PASCEP Program and M. K. Enterprises. Mr. Boulware has spent thirty-five plus years in the Transportation Industry as a Tractor Trailer, Straight Truck, Bus Driver and Administrative Technician. Prior to that, he worked all over Philadelphia and the surrounding area in factories, warehouses, stores, and various restaurants and other service entities. He has been happily married to Virginia M. Boulware, R. N. for more than Forty-Plus years. This union has produced two successful Sons and four beautiful Grandchildren. His readers have described him as an erudite and a polymath. He was not always been regarded as such. Folks, who believed the contrary, only encouraged him to reach for higher goals. In this, his second book breeds the intent and interest for many more such contributions of varied genres. Mr. Boulware has not been on a mission to have the last laugh or the last word, but… He has, however, enjoyed having a most profound laugh and a word or two conveyed and noticed…at home and around the world.

~ HALLOW II ~

A Portentous Epoch of Sagacious Redolence and Epiphany: A Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision 

Hallow II is a follow-up addition to Hallow in its collection of short stories filled with adventure, Science-Fiction, Horror, and thrills. Here’s another masterpiece by this superlative writer with this latest addition to a collective assortment of goodies. Hallow II presents a wonderful collection of Horror, Thriller, Adventure, and Philosophical wonderlands of Mystical and Physiological Enlightenment. …A complete blend of fiction and non-fiction.

Coincidences, seemingly of a marvelous character, there are few persons who have not, on occasion, been startled. It also goes without saying; even the calmest of thinkers have experienced a vague thrilling half-credence in the supernatural genre.

Speaking of certain, albeit, limited, coincidences, understand that we, Mr. ‘Eddie’ Poe and I, the Editor / Publisher, choose to speak of this topic. In my own heart, I cannot speak of his; there dwells no faith in the praetor nature. In past and probably, future conversations, men will debate the issue of the original intentions of God’s Laws. They may dispute that nature and its God are two. The latter creating the former can, at will, control and/or modify it. Would you not agree, my friend? The insanity of logic has, of course, assumed it is not that the Deity cannot modify his laws, the question is of will. Does man insult God with the imagination of a possible necessity for modification? Mr. Poe espouses the origin of these laws were fashioned to embrace all and every contingency which could lie in the future. All that one would need to do is to pay the strictest and closes attention with unwavering indulgences.

This topic is only referred to as coincidences. It was submitted for my review as ‘Bowery of the Crimson Frock and Flesh – The Poe Report.’
http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/ 

More about the author
Visit Amazon’s Gregory V. Boulware Page
Gregory V. Boulware 
Follow this author on Amazon and Twitter!

Biography
“From blog to blurb,” Mr. Boulware has come to produce, mitigate, and provide a myriad of postulating books, articles, and essays for public and private consumption. Simply referred to as ‘erudite’ by his many readers, fans, and critics, this sagacious author in his natural propensity, moves thought provoking subject material with well graced laxity and modulation over many networks, websites, and social media.

Visit BoulwareEnterprises.com and a host of Networks hosting this authors written works. View the material via, The Black History.com, Black AuthorsConnect.com, HBCU.com, HBCUCONNECT.com, Black In America.com, BlackWomenConnect.com, Chocolatpagesnetwork.com, Plus.Google.com, BookMarketingnetwork.com, GoodReads.com, LinkedIn.com, Blogger.com, Tumblr.com, KooBug.com, Pintrest.com, Academiaedu.com, BlackIsms.com, AuthorsDen.com, and many others!

Google his name and view the results therein!

View his contrite yet mind-visualizing publications…on the Internet and through his Books!

BoulwareEnterprises and CreateSpace Publications:

The writing project, for an upcoming book, chronicles the adventures, trials, and tribulations of Shakespeare’s Black Conquering Usurper residing in the land of the whites. My journey brought me from the colleges and universities of the Philadelphia area of America to the wondrous and mystical land of Morocco and European Civilization. We, my beautiful assistant, ‘Isabelle’ and I; where swept away on a bus tour. The moors and hillsides of Ireland were beautifully green, brilliant, and vast. For this plot of earth called an island by men, would leave me to believe otherwise. We simply fell in love with this place. The rickety double-decker bus, upon which the tour proceeded, traveled over hill and dale to mystical ruins and places of dreamlike genres and imagination. Tales of the Arabian Knights, King Arturius/Arthur, and the likes of Lord William Wallace vividly came to mind. Visitors couldn’t help revisiting the old books of fame and childhood bedtime stories.

…The weary rain soaked man stumbled upon the pathway to the door of the keep. He pounded upon the over-sized oaken doors with a weak and fumbled attempt. It was cold and dark. The heavy icy rain pounded down on the weary traveler to no end. He was sick. He needed shelter and warmth…now!
The castle, converted to a religious sanctuary or ‘Keep,’ if you will, sat ominously upon the spookiest hill in the area. It sat there looking at us, daring us to leave the sanctuary of the rattling, creaking, and cantankerous old bus. It beckoned as much as it warned to stay away from here. My curiosity would not leave me be. It kicked me, pulled at me, and slapped me. The site of this keep will never let me rest; it will never let me go. I needed to see inside. I needed to speak with its occupants.

I rang the bell for the driver to stop so that we could get a better, a closer look. It was just my excuse at attempting access to one of the excursion sites not listed on the tour itinerary. In fact it wasn’t on any of the local maps or international ones either. It was as if the mysteriously opulent and black castle never existed.
http://howlofanangel.blogspot.com/ 

~ Are These Titles On Your Book Shelf? ~ 

If Not, You Don’t Know What You’ve Been Missing! Knowledge, Wisdom,
Enlightenment, Passion, Humor, Spirituality, Inspiration, Logic, Power, Joy, Love, Mystery, Science, History, Religion, sex, Fantasy, Mysticism, Travel, Exotic Encounters, Fiction, Non-Fiction, and Mind-Bending Excitement Await You Between The Pages Housing These Super Extolling, Lauded, Glorified, Proclaimed and Uplifting Pages of Prescriptive Prose!
Visit: BoulwareEnterprises.com and follow the easy connections from there!

Remember…

“It’s Not The Things You Know, It’s The Things You Know That Just Ain’t So!

https://www.amazon.com/HALLOW-Portentous-Sagacious-Significant-Perceptive/dp/1518770223/ref=la_B00OI16PDI_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1478882564&sr=1-1

~BoulwareEnterprises~ 
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html

Kindle Publications/Editions:
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&field-author=Gregory+Boulware&search-alias=digital-text&text=Gregory+Boulware&sort=relevancerank 

…Til Next Time! 

In The Name of Peace, Love, Justice, and Truth,

~ “SANKOFA” the “MAAFA” ~ 

‘G’ 
“Amazon” 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

*/

>

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’
~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-books-by-boulware
New BCID: 823-13940945
http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945
New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

/*
~BoulwareEnterprises~ 
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/ 
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498 
https://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/ 
https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104 
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all 
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659 
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~ 
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile 
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter” 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG 
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984

‘Virtuosity101.com’ 
http://virtuosity101.com/
http://virtuosity101.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288611/sankofa-never-to-forget 
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288593/a-timeless-epoch-an-ingrained-memory 
http://blackisms.com/education-2/
https://www.academia.edu/
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361 

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily 
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

*/

Just A Few Tags: …:-)

Paper.LiBoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423 
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash 
http://www.phillytrib.com/ 

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”- Maya Angelou (1928-)

Media:
#Esquire #Polymath #BlackAuthors #Boulware #BoulwareBooks #HBCU #BlackWritersMuseum #onWURD #12thTribe #BlackInAmerica #SNCC #SCLC #NAACP #COAR #JohnLewis #DrKing #MartinLutherKing #PhillyTribune #PhillyTrib #SojournerTruth #Sojourner #BlackHistory #History #HerStory #KnowledgeIsKing #BlackThen #P2P #3rdEye #CongressionalBlackCaucus #PaulRobeson #JamesBaldwin #BlackToLive #Nibbies #KDP #HealStorian #TheIndigenousPeoples #FightThePowerThatBe #LDF #IndependentBlackMedia #NavajoNationCouncil #NavajoCodeTalkers #NativeTeams #AIVMI #LifeStyle #TheDailyWeb #TheHerald #TheWashingtonPost #MindTV #Metro #Revolution #Democracy #TheAdministration #ThePowerStructure #Deeds #Heritage #Segregation #Demonstration #March #FreedomRiders #FreePress #FreedomRides #Priviledged #Resist #Revolt #HumanBeing #Sanction #Boycott #Underground #PhillyTribune #AmericanIndianVeteransMemorial #AIVMI

Literary:
#Books #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #ReadWrite #AmericaReframed #Entrepreneur #WordStream #Ghosted #GhostWriter #Nibbies #TheBritishBookAwards #TheBritishBookIndustry #FredNeuman #Edited #NigelRoby #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #Enterprise #Essayist #Author #Writer #SmokeyTheBear #YogiBear #TheBearFacts #Berean #CCPedu #TempleU #CheyneyU #LincolnU #PennStateU #Grambling #Clemson #TheMedia #NJNews #NYNews #PhillyNews #LinkedIn #Chicago #EzineAuthors #EzineArticles #ReadersGazette #IAm #IAmAMan #ManyRiversPBS #BookSellerAssociation #BooksAreMyBag #BertramBooks #BonnierPublishing #FMcM #FirstryGroup #Gardners #HarbottleandLewis #HarperCollinsPublishers #IPG #IndependentPublishersGuild #Nielson #PublishersPublicityCircle #TheReadingAgency #ThePublishersAssociation #OG #TheAssociationofLearnedandProfessionalSocietyPublishers #Tesco #BritishBookAwards #Barnes&Noble #Books2Readers #KDP #BookHub #TheBookHub #DarkHumour #CrimeFiction #NewAppleBooks #TooFondOfBooks #PandorasBooks #WebsiteMag #IoT

Networks:
#Technology #ClickBait #CBC #WordPress #BlogSpot #Amazon #KDP #Tumblr #PinteRest #Serendipity #Universal #Ubiquitous #TheLearningKey #TheUltimateRadioNetwork #TheOrderOfThings #Software #DataSource #DataBase #ComputerWorld #Oracle #WebSiteMagazine #Wired #Networks #Networking #Nibbies #Algorithm #Syntax #IoT #RDBMS #SEO #CRM #CPU #SMO #SMM #iOS #MIS #IT #BI #ISDN #OSI #EMR #ANSII #Chip #PC #DynaSet #RAID #SSL #GUI #APP #Elipse #SIMS #Boolean #SMTP #SPI #DB #SMS #GUID #SNMP #SOA #SOX #OLAP #FAT #ASP #SaaS #Nano #Program #EdTech #WebsiteMag

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

/*

“Even a man, who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the ‘Wolfsbane’ blooms and the Autumn Moon is bright.” 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/286944/a-significant-era-of-perceptive-aroma-and-vision 

“Howl Of An Angel”

 By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/howl-of-an-angel 

Ellington searched the globe for forty-plus years until he caught him for the third time. This time, he caught up with him in Istanbul. He was able to box him and ship him home to the United States. His home in Connecticut was a safe place to keep him (so he thought) – where he could be watched closely. Ellington lived alone save a housekeeper who tended household needs five days a week. She was given specific instructions to not open a particular door of one of the rooms upstairs. Ellington explained in great detail about why he had instructed her so. She listened intently but didn’t believe him. She was a good woman, a good housekeeper, one who could be trusted, a good God-Fearing Christian Woman. She thought him to be a nut – an eccentric old fool – a madman. She jumped nearly out of her skin when she heard the blood chilling howl.

The two men walked through the halls without talking. The howling persisted…it grew louder and louder as the minutes ticked by. Kristophus made sure to lock every door behind them – with a separate key of each lock. Ellington asked Kristophus why the doors where being locked in such a fashion. He looked at David and sternly replied, “For your safety, sir!” Ellington raised an eyebrow and walked on.

That night, there was no clock to strike twelve within the Keep. With no way to tell time (which didn’t matter here anyway), the visitor could only assume that it was beyond the midnight hour. Stealthily, he came upon the sleeping gatekeeper. David snuck up on him and stole the keys. They were affixed to a ring of metal which in turn was fastened on a long rope tied and hanging about the neck of the key bearer.

The thief felt faint and dizzy as he made his way to the basement. The inmate was well aware of his anticipated presence. There were no howls resonating throughout the castle as the rescuer gained access to his false friend’s prison cell.

…Eduardo and Isabelle hurried along. After starting the car, the pair drove off. The howling of the wolf sounded again. Isabelle was deathly frightened. Eduardo sat in silence and harbored a grizzly grin.
“Yes, let us hurry and get back to town, I’m very hungry.”
~ “The Loch Of Satanus” ~ 

Pt.2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’ 
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html

“Howl Of An Angel” 
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/howl-of-an-angel 

>

“They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man…but where does one begin and the other end – Why is it the so-called educated do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?” 
http://parttwotheweddingparty.blogspot.com/ 
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 

“I saw with my own two eyes, what that man had changed into. He changed, before my eyes, into the murderous monster of beasts; not unlike the one you see before you.” 

‘Isle Manhattan’ – “The Changeling, Loup Garou” 

Part Three: ‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock’ 
By 
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/335240/isle-manhattan-the-changeling-loup-garou-part-three-bowery-of-the-crimson-frock 

 

“They say there is no sin in killing a beast, only in killing a man…but where does one begin and the other end – Why is it the so-called educated do not acquire the good sense of knowing better?” 

The ‘Chevalier’ endeavored to remove everything from his mind. His only thoughts were the case at hand. He began to relapse back into himself. His old moody habits regenerated into the morose ill-tempered individual of austere soliloquy.
Attempting to make light of a horrible situation, I joined my friend in throwing the future to the winds and fell tranquilly into the present. The presence and perpend of the previous days became a joyful dream, floating away with twinkling fog.

Emissaries brought the names of ‘Duprae’ and ‘Abberline’ to the America’s. Not unlike ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ they had become household names within the law enforcement community. Duprae’s mantra preceded that of his famous colleague. The family crest of Lord Talbot arrived years before them.
The simple process to which he incorporated in solving cases had never before been disclosed to anyone… Not even the Prefect. The sole entity of that demesne is gifted to only me.
Of course, it’s not so surprising that the closed and solvent affairs were regarded as just short of miracles or that Chaunea’s analytical abilities gained his the notoriety and awarded credit on intuition and sagacious insight.
Being frank would have created an atmosphere of prejudice and abuse to every individual who would inquire into his practicum of procedure; his indolent humor forbade any such agitation of a topic whose interest has long ago dissipated. This position in many past times, have found him the attraction of cynical political eyes. The insolvable cases of which he was engaged were requested services at a level above Prefect.

Marie was the only daughter of the widow ‘Estelle Roget (Rogers)’ In France, they were named ‘Roget’ while the American adoption changed it and pronounced it as ‘Rogers.’ Marie’s (she is sometimes called Mary) father died when she was a baby. He was assassinated when she was approximately eighteen months of age. The couple, along with their daughter, resided in a close-nit cul-de-sac community, in Queens. The father kept a flat in Manhattan for business ventures. His death provided the aggrieved ladies a comfortable living.

A perfume purveyor was attracted to Mary’s beauty. His shop was in the basement level of the busy shopping area of the city. She was in her twenty-second year. The shopkeeper was of gauche and incongruous character. He was very much a part of the desperate adventurer who indeed fouled the neighborhood with his contributing vile infestation. He wasted no time taking advantage of this fair delicacy who sampled his perfumery. His liberal advances were eagerly accepted by the young lady. The beautiful propositions were innocently coveted by the girl whose occupation was “cigar-girl.” Her mother portrayed an openly blatant hesitation regarding the advances of this shady individual.
The shopkeeper hoarded rooms of notorious reputation. His anticipations toward Mary were unwelcomed by the sprightly old lady. Mary was employed by this man for less than a year. When she suddenly went missing, her admirers were adamantly and vehemently concerned.
On the fourth day missing, a body was discovered. It was found floating in the ‘Hudson River’ by a fishing boy who was out for a morning catch. No one had ever before been so intensely interested in a corpse found floating in the water.
Mary Cecelia Rogers was so terribly beautiful and popular, drew the ineffable anger of all she knew. The praetor foolishly made stupid exertions and uniformed police were overtaxed to the utmost as usual. The assumption and verbal outburst by the magistrate planted the seed of a murder prior to the assignment of an official task-force to the case.
“We will catch this murderer. He will not elude us for long. He should do himself justice by surrendering – turning himself in could very well save his life. He should do so now before it is too late!
A reward has been posted for anyone who can provide assistance with information leading to the arrest and successful prosecution of the identified perpetrator of perpetrators of this evil deed upon this poor sweet and beautiful creature; our own Marie Roget!
The reward currently stands at $2,300.00.”

Not one person gave doubt to the mystery that this murder would immediately be brought to light. Elucidation was promised albeit nothing was elicited to implicate the suspected parties. In one, maybe two instances, they were discharged forthwith.
“The third week, strange as it may appear; the discovery of the body had passed without any new light being cast upon the subject. Well before any rumor of the events which had agitated the publics’ mind reached our ears. Our combined research fully absorbed the attention of us both. Three, nearly four weeks had passed since Duprae or I had visitors or traveled abroad. We also did not engage in trials and tribulations of any political articles that were published in one of the daily newspapers. The first intelligent information about the murder had been brought to us by divine intervention. It had made itself clear on the afternoon of July, 18. The vision did remain with us into the late hours of that night. The failure of all our endeavored energies piqued to ferret out the murders. Duprae held a peculiar air of Parisian pride over his concern for his reputation and honor. Even though there was no sacrifice which he would not make or be willing to make for the advancement to solve this mystery; the eyes of the public were indeed upon him. My friend had been drawn to a droll and complicated speech in which he deemed tactful.
The compliment to which he rebutted as best he could was accepted at once. They were accepted with provisions, however.
With that point being mentally settled, the half verbal thought process was interrupted when the Prefect interjected his point of view. He spoke upon the evidence with a long explanation; the latter of which we were not yet in possession.
Duprae sat listening steadily while displaying the embodiment of respectful attention. During the interview, he glanced occasionally over the top of the green colored lenses of his spectacles. This glancing gaze sufficed to convince me that he hadn’t slept soundly throughout the seven or eight hours which preceded the prefect’s departure.
At morning’s light, I managed to procure a full report of all elicited evidence at the prefecture and various newspaper offices. The reports included any and all published information regarding this sad affair.
This mass of positively disproved information stated the following details:

‘Marie left her mother’s house on June 22nd, on Sunday at about 9 a.m. greeting Monsieur St. Eustache, and only to him, she told of her plans for the day. He even took note of her intention to spend the day with her aunt. She resided in the ‘Rue Des Dromes’ while Marie lived in the ‘Rue Pavee St. Andre,’ a short distance of a little over 1 kilometer (1.6 miles). It was also not far from the river. St. Eustache was the designated suitor of Marie. He also resided at the boarding house where the two women stayed. He lodged and took his meals at this particular pension only. The plan also entailed the agreement between Marie and Jacques to meet at dusk. He was to escort his betrothed home for the evening.
During the afternoon of that day, it began to rain quite heavily. He thought about his beloved’s journey during the storm and ascertained that she would spend the night with her aunt. This action had been taken in the past. The promise to meet was no longer necessary. As the night drew forebodingly closer, Madame Roget spoke in horror-filled soliloquy.
“I will never see my daughter again!” This statement was not heard by anyone. She was sadly peering out of her bedroom window during the heavy wind and rain.

Monday had come and gone and no one had seen or heard from Marie. A search began. The tardy initiation was instituted at every possible location of the city and its individual neighborhoods. Nothing positive of negative surfaced until about two weeks later. It was Wednesday, June 25th, Monsieur Beauvis and his friend had been walking and talking about this particular case. While they walked along the river bank, they came upon a group who were attempting to remove a corpse from the water. Nearby fishermen noticed the floating body and notified the police.
The friend of Beauvis recognized the body as that of Marie Cecelia Roget at once. When Beauvis, after hesitating; saw the body, he immediately concurred with his friend.
“It is indeed that of the perfumery-girl.” They said.

Her face was suffused with the darkest blood, much of which oozed and dripped from her mouth and ears. Foaming was not present. That would be indicative of drowning. Her throat was another story. It bore more bruises that could be counted. On the right side was a gaping wound that revealed the very innards of working parts that were left behind. The edges of the wound appeared to be ripped and torn some sort of large animal of beast. The remnants of sharp incisors or teeth marks boasted of doing the dastardly deadly deed.
Her arms were bent and twisted over the breast, and were stiff to the touch. Her right hand was bloodied and clenched; the left was missing up to the elbow. Claw marks showed deep gashes on her back and down the length of both arms. Her shoulder blades bore deep lacerations, allowing sticky gore to partially seal and fill the wounds. The flesh of her body was puffed due to the prolonged exposure and absorption of bay water. Regardless of the puffiness, the remaining body parts appeared whole although battered and bruised. It appeared as if it had been thrown about and slammed multiple times. It was like that of a child bashing, slamming, and throwing a rag doll of the trouncing of a Teddy Bear. A piece of lace was found tightly wound around the neck as well. It was saturated in blood and embedded into the flesh. The material and the flesh seemed as one; it was nearly invisible to the naked eye. This strangling affect alone would have been sufficient to kill.

The medical examiner reported with confidence regarding his findings and that of the deceased most virtuous character.
“She had been subjected to the most brutal violence I had ever seen since the examinations of war-torn victims in all my professionally experienced observations.” the Doctor said.
The corpse was not so badly damaged that recognition by family and friends was impossible. The dress was badly torn and mutilated yet recognizable as well.
The outer garment had been ripped and tattered. It had been torn upward from the bottom hem to the waist, but not torn off. The slip beneath, was slashed and pulled from around the waist and dangled, twisted about the right thigh two or three times, remaining partly attached to the waistline of her body. The dress immediately, beneath the frock was of fine muslin; and from this the slip twenty inches wide had been torn and ripped. It was found to be fitting rather loosely, and secured by a belt of fine tanned leather. During the course of garment strings and other attachments, the lady’s bonnet strings also played a role in the fatal determination.
Over the muslin dress and slip of fine lace, the strings of the bonnet were attached, yet appended. The knot by which the strings of the bonnet were fastened was not a lady’s, it was a slip knot of sailor’s knot.

Marie’s body was transferred from the morgue to the funeral parlor. She was interred with great haste. The burial site was not very far from the spot where her corpse was discovered.

Monsieur Beauvais was making boisterous exertions all over town – at barber shops, pubs and taverns, and the many shops all about the French Quarter, not to mention what New York’s mass media had to say in printed versions. The matter was meticulously and industriously hushed up. Only one week had lapsed before the story was urgently and once again ignited. Public emotion exploded.
A local weekly newspaper exacerbated the issue with speculations of its own after another body had turned up not far from the Hudson Bay near Central Park.
Marie’s corpse was almost immediately disinterred, and re-examined. Nothing was discovered that wasn’t already known. Her clothing, however, were not given to Madame Roget after discovery of the body. They were obviously held as evidence. Since they turned up nothing but the sailor’s knot for clues, they meticulously photographed, documented, and returned the body to its mother.

The investigation headed by New York City Police Chief Inspector Jason Randolph Henderson and Chief Inspector Frederick Quincy Abberline of Scotland Yard; was followed closely by the New York City Newspapers. They in turn were followed by me and Chaunea as the excitement increased by the hour. We needed to keep abreast of the idiosyncrasies of the local populace and the networking between them and the police force. The visit ‘Uptown’ in Harlem provided and atmosphere of much hate, resentment, and apprehension towards the police and its policies of policing. This interested Chaunea very much. If there is mistrust between the two, as is in Paris, the method of interaction would most certainly prove a daunting task. Retrieving inside information was almost unheard of due to the notoriety of the city cops. No one trusted anyone…ever.

Many individuals were arrested and released. One fellow who immediately fell under suspicion was St. Eustache, Marie’s would be suitor. Especially when it was noted by investigators that he wasted no time in perusing the homes several ladies, wed and unwed. One of his haunts was the house of ‘Ill-repute’ in ‘Hoboken,’ just outside of town. He thought his indiscretion would not take notice, I presume.
At first, he failed at giving intelligible accounts of his whereabouts during the Sunday on which his betrothed left home. He did finally submit to the intense inquiries and gave his accounts with some satisfied acceptance. Witness follow-up accounts and affidavits reinforced his statements. The examining dentist was also satisfied the teeth marks and bite patterns were not his.

Time passed and no new discoveries presented themselves. Thousands of rhetorical and contradictory rumors circulated throughout the neighborhood and all over town. Journalists busied themselves in a multitude of suggestions. Many of those attracted a lot of notice. The one that caused a major uproar and rippling affect was the idea that Marie Rogers was still alive and walking with the undead. It was also suggested that the vampire who killed her was building a harem of female vampires who will infiltrate and assimilate the lives of their victims; go forth to conquer all of New York City, allowing the same fate for the remaining cities and boroughs across the United States of America.

Charles (Chaunea) Auguste Duprae took a keen notice to how the team of investigators interacted with one another. The subordinate detectives and officers almost immediately rebuked and resented the authority of an outsider like the Chief Inspector Frederick Quincy Abberline. It did not matter that he was the major investigator who helped crack the “Ripper Case” in London and Paris. The team of fifteen, six uniforms, four 1st and 2nd grade detectives, the chief inspector from Scotland Yard, a private detective, Chaunea, and myself was headed by New York City Chief Inspector Jason Randolf Henderson, a rather tall, ruggedly, and not so handsome dark-skinned Black Man of about forty-eight years of age.

The facts of the matter, conceding the similarities between Mademoiselle L’Espanaye and Marie Roget, is not that Mademoiselle did leave her mother’s house on Sunday morning, June 22nd with the ostensible purpose of going to see her aunt or some other connection, in the Rue Des Dromes of Manhattan’s French Quarter. From the time of about 9 o’clock a. m., she has been seen by no one; not one living soul had laid eyes upon her.
“Nobody is proved to have seen her!” Duprae said aloud. “Not one person has come forward to say that on that day, they did see this young lady except for the suitor, Monsieur Eustache. He alone was witness to Marie’s plan for that day.”

…Secondly, at noontime on Wednesday, three days later, a female body was found floating in the ‘Barriere Du Roule,’ a pier on the Hudson Bay off the French Quarter reef. It has been presumed by the gendarmes, New York’s finest; that Marie Roget was thrown into the water within three to four hours after exiting her mother’s domicile – three days to the hour.
“Wouldn’t it be folly to suppose that murder was committed on the body of this once lovely young woman?” Duprae asked this aloud while looking directly at me.
“The body, if submerged in the river for two or three days at the outset would require six to ten days for sufficient decomposition. This in turn would bring the body to the surface. What do you think was the cause for the murderer or murderers to throw the body into the water?” He asked this question while continuing to look at me – but not looking at me.
“If the girl’s body had been kept in a mangled stat on dry land until Tuesday night, would there not be some indication of the perpetrator’s presence? Is it not to be doubted whether the body would float in such a short period of time – only two days after being dead? It is exceedingly improbable that any fool of a villain committing such a crime as murder would bother wasting precious time and exposure without adding weight to sink it! 
Why would they not take such an easy measure if this were a planned thing?” 

The facts continue with Monsieur Beauvais’s position of quintessential steadfast identification of the body. He entertained no doubt in his believing the corpse as that of Marie Roget. He took it upon himself to rip up the girl’s gown sleeve, pointing to marks and skin blemishes as proof of identification. The public took the information at face value and supposed the account true and accurate.
He then rubbed the arm of the body and found hair upon it. This folly proved to be of insignificant support – this move was a conclusive as finding an arm in a sleeve.
Monsieur Beauvis sent word to Madame Roget at about seven p.m. that night. He did not return to the house that night. It was Wednesday evening. He informed her, via the message, that the investigation is ongoing and making great progress as it relates to tracking her daughter’s killer.
The aged Madame Roget, in her grief, could not mentally or physically bring herself to go over to the precinct, daily or otherwise. One would certainly think it a worthwhile effect to go there and follow the investigation for her, keeping her informed and updated, especially if they thought the body was truly that of the unfortunate young lady – Marie ‘Rogers’ Roget.

Nobody did… No one went over there. There was actually nothing said or heard about for quite a while. The initial news of the tragedy in the Rue Davee St. Andree of Manhattan’s French Quarter, never reached the occupants of that particular building. Monsieur St. Eustache, the professed lover and intended husband of the young lady, who resided in her mother’s house, deposed that he heard nothing of a discovery of a body until the very next day – the next morning. And that was when Monsieur Beauvis burst into his room and told him of it.

“Eddie…a bit of news like this strikes note when such a horrible tragedy – a loved one; a betrothed, is so very coolly received, don’t you think?” asked Duprae intentionally aloud. “I find it quite strange…to ascertain that St. Eustache appeared to be initially unnerved and then stricken with grief needed the support of Monsieur Beauvis. He was so distraught that Beauvis’ friend and another who claimed to be a relative prevented him from attending the re-interment of the body. However, several members of the young lady’s family did attend the brief ceremony.

“Thinking further, upon recall,” I responded. “We were told that, on more than one occasion, a woman of Beauvis’ acquaintance visited the home of Madame Roget.
One particular visitation was shared by the duo.
The last visit brought about a warning – a directive, if you will…instructing the Madame to expect the calling of a gendarme. She was instructed to say nothing to the officer until his return – he insisted that Madame Roget say absolutely nothing…to leave the matter completely in his hands for him to deal with.
She was completely and utterly under his control. Her state of existence, at that time, was locked away in his head. She could not make a single move; a single step without Monsieur Beauvis. It was determined by him, that no one shall have anything to do with the investigation proceedings but him. It was also reported, upon further recollection Chaunea, that the Madame’s relatives pushed and shoved him out of the room of inquiry – he, for some reason did not want the relatives to be involved in the affairs of the women or the investigation. Why?”
“Suspicion indeed had been thrust upon Monsieur Beauvis. A visitor to his office prior to Marie’s disappearance, and while the occupant was absent, did observe a rose in the key-hole of the door. The note attached was addressed to ‘Marie,’” smiled Duprae.
“We had been led to believe that Marie had become the victim of a street-gang. And by these individuals, had been taken against her will across the river, assaulted, and murdered. We have indeed been given a false scent and led down the path of deceit, my dear Poe.”

Chaunea continued on in wild and excited soliloquy. He threw one or two sharp glances in my direction and then back to the direction of the door leading to the instant debating chamber occupied by the team of examining detectives.

Eddie…do you think it virtually impossible to believe that a person so well known as this young woman as pretty as she, could have passed through a three block neighborhood on a Sunday and not be noticed by anyone? Anyone, especially men, who would have seen her would surely remember her, I would think.” I pondered the question and then answered.
“Yes Chaunea. I think when the streets were full of people, she was among them. They all knew her and yet no one has come forward to say they recognized her with the exception of the previous testimony regarding her cited expression of intent. 
Her once lovely and bright gown was torn, tied round her, including the throat, and knotted. With that being done, it makes sense to believe the body was carried like that of a bundle and dumped into the bay… There is no real proof of that fact of where it could have possibly been tossed. There is another fact to consider, my friend.”

Duprae turned to look me full in the face. He gave me his complete and utter attention with that sneering yet intensely inquisitive facial expression. That expressive gesture appears almost always when he is nearing a conclusive resolution… But there is always the chance…always the possibility of room for doubt.
“Pray tell, what is this stifling fact friend Eddie?” 
I then quickly projected fact based on and surrounding the poor girl’s petticoats.
“The piece of one of the young lady’s petticoat was torn out and tied under her chin around the back of her head; the two-foot-long and one-foot-wide swatch could have been used; probably to prevent her screaming; to choke her into submission or unconsciousness as it was discovered imbedded in her throat. This action could very well indicate the attacker…or attackers had no pocket-handkerchief.” 
Duprae smiled. Before he could make a responsive gesture, our thoughts and conversation was violently interrupted by the intrusive thrusting of the examinations room door. It was quickly pushed open by the investigation team leader, Chief inspector Jason Randolph Henderson.

“You fellows will want to hear this! You’ll have to join us in the next room where I’ll be briefing the entire team on this impending case.” 

Chief Detective Armbruister gave everyone the opportunity to position themselves. The greedy-eared audience of fifteen stared intently as the tall dark gentleman began to speak in a commanding voice.
Many members of the group resented and scoffed at the idea of taking orders from a Black man; particularly this man of color. However, they dared not disobey an order from such a high ranking official such as ‘Chief Detective’ or ‘Chief Inspector.’

“Okay, now that I have your complete and full attention, I’d like to fill you all in on some new developments as well as a review of what we have currently.
A couple of days ago, some important information fell into our laps. It appears to be the possibility of a witness of witnesses to this particular case.
Two small boys, according to the report, sons of one ‘Madame Deluc,’ were running and playing in the woods of Central Park’s ‘Barriere Du Roule.’ They happened upon a deer thicket. Inside this heavily packed shelter they found three or four large stones which seemed to replicate a seat with a back along with a footstool. They also found, on the upper stone, a white petticoat. On the lower level a silk scarf, a parasol, a pair of white gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief.
Fragments of a dress were also discovered within the brambles as well. The ground was trampled and bush-branches were broken. The scene portrayed evidence of a struggle.
Gentlemen, I might add another interesting twist to this scenario… The handkerchief had a monogrammed name upon it. The name is that of one “Marie Roget.” All eyes widened with new anticipation.

“Between the thicket and the river, the fences were found to be broken down, and the earthen disheveling betrayed evidence of something heavy being dragged along.
All of these items and particulars appear to have been there for not more than three or four weeks. Although they were all mildew covered and pressed from rain activity and stuck to the various surfaces; grass had grown over and around them, were still without question the identifiable garments of our victim.
Consequentially, Madame Deluc testified that she owns the roadside inn which is not far from the riverbank, opposite the Barriere Du Roule. This particular inn is reputed to be the hangout of a miscreant gang of blackguards from the city.
At approximately three o’clock, in the afternoon on the Sunday in question, a young girl arrived at the inn. She was accompanied by a young man of dark complexion. The two remained there for quite some time. They took to the road, upon departure, to some thick woods in the vicinity. The owner’s attention was called to the dress worn by the girl. She particularly noticed the scarf.

The Madame went on to add…not long upon the couple’s departure from her establishment, the gang of ruffians entered the tavern. “They were loud, rude, and behaved like animals. They ate and drank without paying!” She said she and her staff made note of them for complaint to the local authorities. The owner said the group followed the identical route used by the young couple. The young men returned to the inn along about dusk. They hurriedly re-crossed the river, heading back to the dark cover of the city with the greatest of haste.
Upon that same evening, soon after dark, Madame Deluc and her eldest son said they heard violent yet brief screams. The screams were that of a female…a young woman. They said they came from the direction of the thicket. She not only recognized the scarf which was found in the thicket, but the dress upon the discovered corpse.
Valance, a bus driver, testified that he saw Marie Roget cross the river via ferry on that particular Sunday. She was in the company of a dark complected man. Valance exclaimed he knew Marie and could not have been mistaken about her identity. Marie’s relatives also helped our investigation by fully identifying the articles on her person.”

Duprae embraced another point. “Monsieur Chief Inspector, if you will pardon please? It appears that immediately after the discovered clothing and pre-described items there was another thing seemingly of vast consequences. The lifeless body of Monsieur St. Eustache, Marie’s betrothed.”

An empty bottle of ‘Laudanum’ was found clutched in his hand. His breath provided the necessary evidence to convince the presence of poison. A letter was also found on his person. It briefly stated his love and devotion for Marie.
“I need scarcely tell you,” said Duprae, while completing his perusal of my notes, and excitingly benchmarking his against them; gave me a look that I’ve seen many a time – “the hunt is on! The scent is in the air! He shouted, “This is a far more intricate case than the one we’ve previously experienced in France. The two cases differ only in one respect. This is an atrocious instance of crime; albeit nothing really appears to be out of the ordinary. You may observe that, for this reason, the mystery has been considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have been considered difficult.
We should have been able at once to comprehend how and why such an atrocity might have been committed. We all could picture in our imaginations a mode – many modes, and a motive – many motives; and because it was not impossible for either of these numerous modes and motives could quite possibly have been only one. Have we taken for granted that one of them must be correct?
You see ‘Mon’Ami,’ the ease with which these variable fancies were entertained, and the very plausibility which each assumed, should have been understood as indicative rather than difficulties of the facilities which must attend elucidation, oui?
Therefore, I have keenly observed that it is by prominences above the level of the ordinary. That reason feels its way, if at all, in its search for the true, and the proper questions in cases such as this is not so much as ‘what has occurred’ as ‘what has occurred’ as ‘what has occurred that has never occurred before, oui?”

“Even at the beginning of our investigation; the prior case of ‘Marie L’Espanaye’ and her mother, there was no doubt that murder had been done. The insulting idea of suicide was at once excluded. In this case, we are also freed from the idea of believing so; the commencement to all supposition of ‘self-murder.’ 
Observe, the body was found under circumstances as to have us believe suicide at this point in the investigation, PREPOSTUROUS! I call your attention to the main character of this misadventure. We are all well aware that research and past investigations of drowned bodies, or bodies thrown into the water. The result is that bodies thrown into the water by violence, immediately after death requires six to ten days allowing sufficient decomposition. This action brings the body to the surface. If something, let’s say a cannon is fired and it causes the body to rise before the fifth of sixth day, it will sink again if left alone.
The human body, in general, is neither much lighter nor heavier than the water in the river. The specific gravity of a human body naturally is about equal to the bulk of fresh water. People whose bodies are fat and fleshy, women in general, are lighter the those of someone who is lean, large boned, and/or heavily muscled. However, the fresh water river is influenced by the presence of the sea’s tide level. If not for the tide, very few human bodies would sink at all. When a body id fully immersed, efforts to breathe ultimately pull water into the lungs while most of it is received into the stomach. This causes a body to become heavier by the difference between the weight of the air and that of the fluid which fills them. This simple difference is more than sufficient to cause a body to sink. It has also been recorded that individual with small bones and an abnormal quantity of flaccid or fatty matter will float even after drowning. But I would also suggest another fact to take in to account regarding a drowned body.
My experience does not show that ‘drowned bodies’ require the stated six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place, bringing a body to the surface. The proof is indeterminate. If a body has risen to the surface after being disturbed, it will not sink again if let alone. Decomposition has to have progressed far in order to permit the escape of generated gases within.
The distinction made between ‘drowned bodies and that of bodies thrown into the water after death will not sink before decomposure, and will sink if struggling is present.”

“The argument is constant. Is this of is this not, the body of Marie (Rogers) Roget? Three days have come and gone. The body was found floating, oui? If drowned being a female,, she might never have sunk; if having sunk, might have re-appeared in about 24 hours of less,” said Duprae. “However, no one supposes her to have been drowned; and dying before being thrown into the river. She could very well have been floating at any period of time thereafter. Another voice argued if the body had been kept in its’ mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, would not some trace be found on shore of the murderer of murderers? This is at first difficult to perceive the intentions of the architect.
He probably anticipates an objection to his theory by investigators, thinking the body would be kept on shore for two days, believing that rapid decomposition would be more rapid if immersed in water. He is in quite a hurry to show that it was not kept on shore at all. Because some trace would be found of the murderers on shore. This reasoning in no non-sequitor gentlemen, it is highly improbable that any villains would possibly throw a body into the river without weighing it, guaranteeing the sinking.”

“No one disputes the murder. The violent marks are definitely too obvious. It is our killer’s intention to show that the body was not that of Marie Roget. He wishes us to believe that Marie was not assassinated. However, it goes without merit to have us believe the found body is none other than Marie Roget, oui? But we have no real proof of anything, do we? Here, we have a corpse without weight attached in the water. Murderers casting it in would not have failed to attach a weight to the body.
Therefore, it had not been thrown in by murderers. This issue has been addressed and proven. This question of identification has not technically been approached. Someone in and of the media have made statements implying they are convinced of the body’s identity being that of Marie Roget. That particular person has unwittingly reassured against that belief. Also obvious is the intent in reducing as much as possible, the interval between Marie’s disappearance and the finding of this corpse. This thinking urges the point that no person saw the girl from the moment of departing her mother’s house. The conjecture insists there is no evidence that Marie Roget was in the land of the living after 9 o’clock on Sunday, the twenty-second of June. As the media’s argument is at best an expert one, they should, at least have kept this matter out of sight; because if someone truly saw Marie, say on Monday or Tuesday, the interval in question would have probably been reduced the disbelief or the body being that of the missing young lady.
It is however, amusing to notice how media representatives insist upon its point in the full belief in furthering its general argument.

Re-examine if you will, that portion of this argument having reference to the identification of the corpse by Monsieur Beauvis. Not being a complete idiot, he could not have urged in identifying the corpse based simply upon the arm. No human arm is without hair! There would have to be some sort of peculiarity in the shape, color, of length in order to make such a determination, oui? The so-called garter belonging to the mademoiselle is no proof. Nor is a shoe, regardless if the garter was sold in combination package. The flowers in her hat are no proof as well.
It could be most difficult to suppose the killer or killers in earnest. If Monsieur Beauvis, while searching, come upon a body fitting the general size and appearance of the missing woman, he would have been warranted in forming an opinion if his search had proven successful. In addition to the point of general size and contour, if he had noticed upon the woman’s arm, a peculiar hair pattern or sharpen mark, such a birthmark upon the living Marie would certainly have merit. The feet of the corpse were small, as was Marie’s. The probability of this particular body being that of Marie Roget would not be an increase in ratio.
Now, the flowers in the hat did correspond to those worn by the missing mademoiselle. If only one flower; each successive one is multiple evidence or proof multiplied by hundreds, even thousands. Upon the deceased, let us now discover garters such as the living Marie used. These garters appear to be tightened by setting back the clasp, such as practiced by the dead body.
The elastic nature of this clasp-garter is self-demonstrative of the unusual. What is made to adjust itself, most out of necessity, require foreign adjustment on a rarity? It could have been by accident, in its strictest sense, that these garters needed the described tightening. That perfection alone would have ample information in establishing the identity of Marie’s identity.
Gentlemen, it is not that the corpse was found to have the garters of the missing young lady, or found to be wearing her shoes, of her bonnet, or the flowers of her bonnet, of her feet, or a peculiar mark upon her arm, or her general size and appearance – it is that this particular corpse collectively had them all.
With this proof, it could be proved to the doubtful voice, under the circumstances, there would be no need, because in this case, the doubting voices warrant a legitimate assignment to themselves; a commission of ‘De Lunatico Inquirendo!” The doubtful voice has thought is sagacious to echo the small talk of the lawyers, who, for the most part, content themselves with echoing the rectangular precepts of the courts. I would, at this point, observe that very much of what is rejected as evidence by a court, as being that very much of what is rejected as evidence by a court, as being the best evidence to the intellect.
The court, my friends, guided itself by the ‘General Principles of Evidence – The Recognized and Booked Principles.’ These general rules are averse at particular instances. This steadfast diligence and adherence to principle with a rigorous disregard of the conflicting exceptions, is surely a mode of attaining the maximum attainment to and of truth, regardless of the amount of time. Philosophically, this practice engenders a vast amount of individual error.
Monsieur Beauvis is a busy-body. You have all no doubt fathomed the true character of this fellow of low wit. His over acuteness has rendered himself liable to suspicion. In his persistence in asserting the body to be that of Marie Roget, while being unable to volunteer a circumstance to make others believe it too. You see, a man could very well be understood to believe, in such a case as this, without the ability to forward one single reason to believe a second party opinion.
Nothing is more vague, my friends, than impression of individual identity. Each man or woman, in his or her own right, recognizes a neighbor, yet there are few instances in which anyone is prepared to give a reason for his or her reasoning of recognition.
The suspicious circumstances which involve him, will be found to tally with a much better hypothesis of my deduction of a romantic ‘busy-body’ meddling of a supposition of guilt. Once you have grasped the more charitable interpretation, we will have no difficulty in comprehending the rose in the key-hole; the body upon the slate; the elbowing of the male relatives pushing them out of the way; the wayward aversion in permitting them to view the body; the caution given to Madame Roget by Monsieur Beauvis and his female companion, that she must hold no conversation with a gendarme until his return; and lastly, his apparent determination ‘that nobody should have anything to do with the proceedings except himself.’ It seems to me, and quite possibly to you, that Beauvis was a suitor of Marie Roget; that she coquetted with him; and that he was ambitious of being thought to enjoy her fullest intimacy and confidence.
At this point, I shall say nothing further, touching the matter of apathy on the part of the momma and relatives – an apathy in consistent with the supposition of their believing the corpse to be that of the perfumery girl. We shall proceed as it the identity question was settled with the utmost satisfaction.”

I marveled at ‘Chaunea’s’ theory and reckoning as many in the room did as well. At that very moment, not unlike many, I was exceptionally proud of my friend; my cousin, as he so gracefully succeeded in acquiring the full attention of every soul in this listening arena.

“There are those who would have us believe that Mademoiselle Marie was seized by a rough street gang for the city, oui?
But that my dear friends is impossible! Think for a moment, se vous ple, a person so well known by hundreds as this young woman was, could have passed four to six blocks without someone seeing her; without recognizing her is simply ludicrous. Someone like you or me, residing in Paris – you in New York, whose walks to and fro in the city are mostly limited to our respective areas of abode. You all would agree it is seldom we would pass someone who would not recognize us in our daily routines, knowing and being acquainted with others in that particular vicinity. The notoriety of the perfumery-girl, finds no great disparaging between she and us in a walk-about. We all have a tendency to acquaint ourselves with those in our immediate neighborhoods with a kindred spirit, as did this unfortunate soul.
Taking into consideration, the hour at which the girl abounded, was it not during a time when the streets were full of people? The hour suggested nine o’clock in the morning. At that particular time of day, the streets are full of people during the week. On Sunday, however, the populace are mainly indoors preparing for church services. It would prove highly improbable that no observing person could have failed to notice, from about seven until eleven on the morning of every ‘Sabbath,’ the peculiarly deserted air about town.
Also, there is another unsettling point of interest and observation. A piece of one of the dead girl’s petticoats, two feet long, and one foot wide, was torn out and tied under her chin, and around the back of her head; one would guess to silence her screams.
This, of course, is supposed to have been done by the fellows without pocket-handkerchiefs. This idea was not well founded. The idea that these so-called “lowest class of ruffians” are the astute description of people who will always be found to have handkerchiefs even when they are destitute of shirts! Gentlemen, observe, you must have had occasion to realize how absolutely indispensable to the hold-up man, his most essential tool of the trade – the pocket-handkerchief or facial mask, oui?

At present, we should not fail to recognize the laxity in the examination of the corpse. Points to be ascertained, to be sure, are the questions of this readily determined identity. Has the body been mutilated in an inordinary fashion? Did the deceased have any articles of jewelry on her person when leaving home? If so, where there any found after discovering the body? These questions are profoundly important due to evidence untouched, with others that have yet to gain attention.
We will ascertain the validity of the affidavits regarding the whereabouts of Monsieur St. Eustache pm the Sunday in question. His character has been most mystifying to the naked eye. However, we should dismiss St. Eustache from our attention because there is no wrong doing ‘beyond’ suicide. The interior points of this tragedy is truly disconcerting, but outside of the realm of murder.

In looking further, if not deeper into the circumstances of this case; past activities of the missing young lady re-arise with a report just three and one half year ago. The affidavits record a disturbance very similar to the present was caused by the disappearance of this same Marie Roget. She disappeared for more than a week from the perfumery of Monsieur Le Blanc in the ’Palais Royal.’ She did re-appear in her customary fashion and delightful demeanor just as if nothing has happened. However, she did appear noticeably pale of complexion.
It was not out of the ordinary for one to appear pale of complexion at this time of year; she appeared to be abnormally pale. The whiteness of her skin was as if the blood in her system had drained away.

It was known to many that she was in the company of a young naval officer. He, just so happens, to be well known for his past and present debaucheries. It was also supposed that Marie returned home because of a lovers’ quarrel.
And still, another report told of a family being accosted by ‘ferry-bandits.’ The report stated something about an outrageous atrocity perpetrated by a character or characters of low regard. It says a gentleman along with his wife and daughter, along about dusk, employed the services of six young men who were rowing a boat back and forth across the river. They rowed from the banks near the restaurant-inn of Madame DeLuc and her two sons’ roadside inn to the little Island where Eustache’s body was found, and to the shoreline of the city. These young men were to deliver the family to the shoreline of the city.
Upon reaching the opposite shore, the party stepped from the boat onto dry land. They walked away from the docks to a point just beyond view when the daughter realized she’d left her parasol behind.
When she returned to retrieve the umbrella, the gang seized her and carried her in the boat back out into the middle of the river. She was gagged and brutally s*xually assaulted.
It was thought, at that time, a man named ‘Mennais’ was the reputed leader of that particular gang. It was also reported that he was the head of several groups there and about. He was arrested and brought in for questioning and examination. After three days had past, he was exonerated and released after legal inquiries and venues were set into play.
Several days after the attack, a bargeman happened upon an empty sailboat. The sails lay at the bottom of the boat. The bargeman towed the empty vessel back to the ‘Harbor Master.’ The following morning, it was found to be missing. It went missing right under the very noses of the harbor officers on duty.
What was left of the missing boat was its rudder. It was found left alone, on the lonely dock.

“It was not by current design,” said Duprae, “to dwell upon the first or second of the extracted events. I have taken note of them mainly to show you all the extreme remissness of New York’s finest, who as far as I can understand from the Prefect of first investigator on scene, have not bothered to examine the alluded to naval officer. Oui, you have been inept in your investigation gentlemen. However, we now have the opportunity to remedy the situation.
Would it be a fair observation to suggest that between the first and second disappearance of the mademoiselle, there is no supposable connection? First, allow yourselves to admit the return home or from the elopement due to a lover’s spat…the returning home of one who was betrayed.
Secondly, only if we truly knew that an elopement has again taken place; the indication of the betrayer’s sexual advances, rather than being the result of a new proposal by a second individual. We could very well regard it as ‘making up’ or rekindling the old amour, rather than as a commencement of a new one. We must also take note of the time elapsed between the first determination and the second supposed elopement being a few months more than the general period of the cruising of our men-of-war. My friends, you must by now realize the error of your ways… If the lover had been interrupted by the need to return to sea and had been seized with the opportunity the first time to initiate his design, which he has not yet accomplished – means absolutely nothing, because we truly know what? There was in reality no elopement as previously ascertained? Certainly not! But, are we really prepared to say that there was not a pre-planned design? Other than St. Eustache, and possibly Beauvis, we do not find a recognition, open, or honorable suitors of Marie. Who then, could be the secret lover of Marie Roget? Who is the secret lover that relatives no nothing, but meets on the morning of Sunday? One who is so deeply held in the strictest confidence; that she hesitates – not to remain with him until the cover of evening descends over the solitary groves of the ‘Barriere Du Roule?’
Who is this secret lover? When asked, many of the relatives knew nothing. And what was meant by the mysteriously chilling and prophesized statement made by Madame Roget after Marie’s departure?
“I fear that I shall never see Marie again.” 

Chaunea was at his finest. The audience was petrified and greedy of ear to learn of this man’s analytical expertise.
“Glancing first at many facts, let us reflect the events. Can we not imagine the intimate knowledge of Madame Roget? Are we to believe that she was excluded from initial planning of an elopement?
When Marie departed from home to visit the aunt in the ‘Rue Des Drome,’ the plan was to meet with St. Eustache at dusk. We know the Mademoiselle did meet with a companion and crossed the river with him, oui?
The late afternoon hour of three o’clock, they reached the ‘Barriere Du Roule.’ When calling for her at the appointed hour, to the chagrin of her intended suitor, was forced to return to the house with a missing person alarm. His betrothed had not appeared as planned and could not for the life of him, be located. Suspicion, of course, immediately fell upon Monsieur St. Eustache.
The mademoiselle could very well have planned it this way. She could have thought to be very secretive in order to disallow any sort of interruption of plan, do you not think?
It is highly possible to believe that Marie planned the entire event.

‘I will tell my mother that I am going to visit and spend the day with my aunt at Rue Des Dromes. I will also tell St. Eustache to call for me not earlier than dusk to dark. This plan would make it possible for me to cast no suspicion or anxiety in my being this long gone from home or sight. I will then have more time to do what is planned. St Eustache will do as I ask and not call for me until the appointed hour. Should I not plan to meet with him will arouse suspicion and I will not be able to get away. They will all never know whether I will not return or not. 
While it is possible that I shall never return, at least not before some weeks have passed; certain concealments must be accepted without criticism or judgment.’ 

Now gentlemen, you no doubt have within your notes, the most general opinion as it relates to this sad affair. From the very first, it was summarily supposed by many that the young lady had been accosted by a roving gang of blackguards, yes? Okay, this popular opinion under certain conditions, cannot of course, be disallowed.
Gentlemen, in ninety to one hundred cases of accosted victims, I would almost certainly agree. But there is no concrete proof or sustainable suggestions to the contrary. Public opinion, as it is thought by me, has been super-induced by the totalitarian of third party extracts.
Everyone from New York to Paris is excited by the discovery of a corpse believed to be that of Marie Roget. Oh yes, this girl, so young and beautiful, and notorious – a corpse is found bearing the marks of violence and floating in the river. 
We also know, at that very time period, or near, an outrage similar in nature to our investigation has surfaced. It is supposed that this young girl was abducted, assaulted, and assassinated by a gang of ruffians from the city, in a boat.
Marie too, was found in that very river; and upon this very river, the known outrage was committed. The connection between the two events did indeed supply an abundance of palpable mental and psychological suggestion to believe murder has been committed.
The populace would, in believing the relativity of the two killings would fail in the appreciation and seizure of realizing that one gang of ruffians were perpetrating, at a given location, a most heinous crime; there should be another gang; in a similar location in the same city; under the same circumstances; with the same means and appliances; engaged in a crime of exactly the same aspect; at precisely the same period of time!
In this marvelous conveyance of coincidences, the incidental, accidental, and suggested opinion of the public and so-called professionals would have us believe as they.
Rationally deducing the facts and events, my dear colleagues, consider the supposed scene of the assassinations. You may recall the thicket at the little river island, Le Barriere Du Roule? This thicket, although dense, was in close proximity of a public road as well as by boat. Within this particular thicket were three of four large stones, forming a type of seat with a back and footstool. On the upper stone was a white petticoat; on the second, a silk scarf. We also found a parasol or umbrella, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief. The handkerchief bore the name of Marie Roget. Fragments of her dress were found on the branches all around as well. The ground was trampled, bushes were broken, and there was clear evidence of a violent struggle all about.
Twenty days have elapsed between that fatal Sunday and the afternoon upon which the boys happened upon the scene. There remains to be no real evidence that the articles discovered had been there for more than a few days. There is, however, much circumstantial proof that they could not have remained there for very long without attracting attention.
Think back, se vous plea? The articles in question were found to be mildewed down hard with the action of the rain and stuck together from mildew. The grass had grown all around and over them. The upper part where it had been doubled and folded was all mildewed and rotten. The material tore into withered shreds upon being opened. With respect to the grass having grown around and over them, it is obvious the fact could only have been ascertained by description and recollections from two young boys. It was these two boys who in fact, removed the articles and took them home before they had been examined by a third party.
There is another point of interest my friends. The floating opinion of the articles being found in the thicket for three to four weeks is absolutely absurd! In the warm and damp weather, not unlike the weather during the murder; the grass will grow. It will usually grow to two or three inches in a single day, according to the local residents. An umbrella, parasol se vous plea, lying upon a newly turfed surface, may very well, in a single week, be entirely covered and hidden from sight by the rapid growth of grass. Mildew is a fungus. It festers and takes hold within twenty-four hours. It is highly yet exceedingly difficult to believe that these items of discovery could have remained in the thicket for longer than a week at best.
The people who have resided here for generations are highly aware of the extreme difficulty in finding seclusion. The only possibility of such could only happen at a great distance – the suburbs. Even during the week-days, according to several locals whom we interviewed, seeking solitude amid the scenes of natural beauty and loveliness; which surrounds us; in the densest foliage would be in vain. There are many nooks and crannies that are occupied by the unwashed homeless of society.
One has to wonder, if it is and during the week, how is it during the ‘Sabbath?’
The boys of Madame De Luc are naturally curious young fellows. Like many young boys, hardly a day passes without at least one of them finding something. The thicket was a favorite hangout. It supplied a natural covering canopy over top the naturally embedded throne of stone. Anyone who cannot imagine the adventures have never been a young boy or have simply forgotten.
It is exceedingly difficult to comprehend how the articles of clothing and personal items could have remained in the thicket.
They have gone undiscovered for a longer period then a couple of days. With adventurers like Madame De Luc’s boys exploring throughout, this leaves a great deal of suspicion to be cast.
You have all, no doubt observed in your notes; the reporting of the girl supposedly had become the victim of a gang of blackguards. I advise you to notice the highly artificially arranged articles of discovery. On the upper stone lay a white petticoat; on the second, a silk scarf; scattered around, were an umbrella – a parasol if you like, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief bearing the name of ‘Marie Roget.’ To the astute mind, eagle-eye, and well-read grey cells, this is by no means a really natural arrangement. We should have been expected to see all the things lying around and trampled underfoot.
What we should have seen, with the wrestling, struggling, and brushing to and fro of several persons; is evidence of a struggle. It has been stated in one or two reports that ‘there was evidence of a struggle’ in the narrow limits of the bowery, an annex of the neighboring bowery; earth was trampled, the bushes broken, and the petticoat and scarf were deposited and neatly placed as if on a closet shelf. The pieces of frock torn and pulled from the thorn bushes were about three or four inches wide and six to eight inches long. The hem of the garment had been mended. They looked like strips had been torn off. These slightly irregular placements have employed definite reasons to arouse suspicion, oui?
The described pieces do indeed have the appearance of those torn purposely, by hand. However, in the rarest of moments, accidents occur. A thorn or a nail catching hold of such a fabric will divide and tear the frock into rectangular angles in any given direction. We are expected to believe that not only one piece of the garment was torn, but many pieces were torn in the same manner; at the hem. Another piece was also torn that was not part of the hem. It was the un-edged interior of the dress! These things, I say, are things that must be taken into consideration. Collectively, they form reasonable grounds for suspicion. To deny this thicket as the tragic scene of this appalling outrage! The startling circumstances of these articles and the removal of a carcass by the murderer or murderers unknown, should have taken precautions in fulfilling the protocol of this dastardly deed added to the lists of suspicions.
The chief purpose of all that I have adduced is to bring you, one and all, to the most natural route in further contemplation of doubting whether this supposed assassination has or has not been the work of a gang. It is also my intention to bring to justice, the perpetrator or perpetrators of this despicable act. 
In resuming the question by mere allusion to the disgusting revolving details of the inquest’s examining surgeon. His published inferences, regarding the number of ruffians justly and properly ridiculed as unrealistic and totally baseless by every reputable anatomists between New York and Paris. It there is no grounds for inference, there could in no possibility is room for another.
Reflecting, once again, the traces of a struggle do not reflect evidence of a gang. What have these traces supposed to demonstrate? What struggle could have taken place? What struggle between a weak defenseless girl and the gang of ruffians? What struggle was so violent and so enduring as to have left its traces in all directions? The victim must have been absolutely yielding and passive in the rough arms of so violent and so obstinate a nature as to have left traces of the apparent. It seems absolutely impossible to believe these evidences of guilt should have been accidently left were they were found. The killer or killers also possessed sufficient presence of mind, supposedly, to remove the cadaver. This presents positive evidence. It presents even more evidence than the corpse itself. Can you imagine the dead body being allowed to lie conspicuously out in the open air, whose features might have been quickly obliterated by decay? Remember the handkerchief with the supposing dead girl’s name upon it? Do you really think this was an accidental death? I can assure you all that this was no accident and least of all, no accident of any gang! 
Imagine an individual, se vous plea? He has committed the murder. He is alone with the ghost of the departed. He is appalled by what lies motionless before him. The fury of his passion gone…there is commodious room in his heart to step back and take in the natural awe of the deed which has been done. He nurtures with confidence the presence of numbers he inevitably inspires. Alone with the dead he remains. His bewilderment causes him to tremble. The necessity for cadaver disposal overshadows it all. He finds it difficult, almost impossible to bear the weight of the corpse during the journey towards the river. The evidence of guilt is left behind, the sounds of life encompasses his path as well. Long pauses and quick rest allow him to recharge the perseverance to traverse. The weight of the ghastly gruesome object was ever so overwhelming. He fancies the hearing of sound. The footsteps of an observer abound. City lights bewilder him. The agony of the burden finally relieved when at long last he reaches the river’s edge. The putrid, cold, and stiff remains became the burden of medium to a small sail-equipped rowboat.
What would have the power to urge the return of that lonely murderer over that toilsome perilous path? What would have the power to make him return to the thicket and its blood-chilling recollection? He does not return. He allows the consequences to be what they may. Even if he could, he would not return. The number one thought is to immediately escape the scene. Thoughts of dreadful shrubberies, dirt, and water remain as he fled from the wrath forthcoming.
The fences behind the thicket and the river were found to be taken down. The ground showed evidence of something heavy being dragged. To three or four people, the limbs of a corpse would have afforded sufficient and convenient handles for transport. Albeit, the outer garment of the corpse; a slip, about a foot wide, had been found to be torn upward from the bottom hem to the waist. It was wound three times around the waist and secured by a type of hitch in the back. Do you not think that this was done by design in order to carry the body? Would any number of men have dreamed up such a device for sake of experience? I think not!
All this would not have happened if the corpse were carried as opposed to dragging. Then, as I have previously mentioned, this was done by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchiefs.
More language of evidence speaks to the strip of cloth found around the neck, fitting loosely, and secured with a hard knot was not used to quiet the screams. The slip was eighteen inches wide, and therefore, although made of muslin, would form a strong band when folded or rumpled like that of a length of hemp.
The point to this inference is the solitary murderer, having carried the corpse for quite a distance; be it the thicket of elsewhere; by means of the bondage hitched around its middle, found the weight too much for his strength. He decided to drag the body, as proven by evidence.
It became necessary to attach something in the nature of a rope to one of the lower extremities. This move proved feasible. Tying one end around the neck, where the head would prevent slippage of the rope. Unquestionably, the murderer thinks, of the bondage about the loins. Oh yes, he would have used this method, but for its volution about the corpse, the hitch which embarrassed it, and reflecting that it had been torn off from the garment. It was easier to tear a new slip from the petticoat. He tore it and made it secure around the neck. In this fashion he did pull and drag the carcass to the river’s edge. The ‘bandage-slip’ was only attainable via trouble and unforeseen delay. However, the imperfect bonding aid proved worthy to the call. The make-shift rope employed, demonstrates the necessity of a handkerchief that was not available. This all occurred after leaving the thicket. That is to say, if the thicket was used at all on the way between the bushes and the river.”

One of the young detectives, Adam Marshall, stood with a hand raised in question.
“Excuse me, pardon Monsieur Duprae!” Chaunea paused momentarily, smiled and bade the young gendarme to pose his question.
“The evidence of statement; supplied by Madame De Luc, points directly and especially to the presence of a gang in the vicinity of the thicket. They were spotted and identified at or about the time of the murder. This is the sworn testimony of the Madame in accordance to her complaint of servicing the rowdy group who did not pay for services rendered. She also stated it was this group who followed the couple after leaving the inn. If you could explain that sir, it would bring us all to the forefront of your analogy?”

“Bon Jour, my young friend and colleague,” replied the smiling Chaunea. “I will do the very best in explaining the circumstances to you and everyone, young detective.” Chaunea continued on with his thesis surrounding the tragic events.
“Madame De Luc points especially towards the presence of a street gang in the vicinity. She also says all this happened at or about the epoch of this repulsive tragedy.
I sincerely doubt if there were not one as opposed to a dozen gangs involved, as described by Madame De Luc. The gang which has drawn attention during this investigation has proven to be somewhat tardy and very suspicious evidence, of Madame De Luc.
The only gang which is represented by the forthright, honest, and scrupulous old lady as having eaten her cakes and swallowing her brandy without bothering to pay – have proven a worthy group for accusations, oui?” Chaunea peered directly at Detective Marshall. Their eyes locked intently.
“But where is this precise evidence? Where is this evidence of guilt as pointed out by the Madame?” asked Duprae.
“A gang of miscreants made their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and drank without paying, followed in the route of the young couple, returned to the inn about dusk, and re-crossed the river in a great hurry.” Chaunea paused and rubbed his chin while casting a wide gaze across the group.
“Now, this great hurry, this great haste could very possibly be seen as a greater haste in the eyes of the lady inn-keeper since she dwelt lingeringly and lamentingly upon her violated food and drink. You see, she entertained the hope of compensation for hospitality, and sustenance. Why, since it was about dusk, would she make a point of the ‘rush’ or ‘haste’ by the gang?
This question leaves no room or cause for wonder. My friends, surely, even a gang of villains should make haste to get home when a wide river is to be crossed in small boats, when an impending storm approaches along with the threat of night-time darkness.
Yes, I do say ‘approaches’ because night has not yet arrived. It was just about dusk, like the morning twilight, when the indecent rush of these ‘miscreants’ offended the alert and sober eyes of Madame De Luc. We were told that it was on that very evening when Madame De Luc and her eldest son heard the screams of a female in the vicinity of the inn.
Now, listen very carefully…
In what words did Madame Del Luc designate the time on period of the evening at which these screams were heard? She said it was soon after dark! A pre-stated description records, “and about dusk,” is certainly still daylight! With that, it is abundantly clear that the gang left the ‘Barriere Du Roule’ prior to the overheard screams; of a young woman, by Madame De Luc and her son.
Imagine, if you will, a large sum of money or reward be offered along with a full a full and absolute pardon to any member of a gang. Would it, do you think, not take very long for one member to turn on the other? How many, which one would be no so greedy of reward and anxious for escape as to not early and eagerly become the betrayer?
The secret has not as yet divulged itself to be the very best of proof that it is in fact, a secret. The horrific horrors of this dark deed are only known to one, or two, living human beings; and to God.
Now, to sum up this long analysis and ascertainment, we have arrived to the pinnacle of the questioning idea. Was it a fatal accidental under the roof of Madame De Luc, or a murder perpetrated in the thicket at the Barriere Du Roule? Was this unholy deed done by a lover, on at least by an intimate and secret associate of the deceased?
This secretive or secreted associate is of a swarthy complexion. This complexion, the hitch in the bondage, and the sailor’s knot with which the bonnet-ribbon is tied, all point to a seaman.
The relationship developed with this young happy and willing girl designates him as above the grade of a common sailor. Well written and urgent communications between the two, were admitted to journal. They have by far, proven corroboration. The first elopement report tends to blend the idea of this seaman with that of the naval officer who was first known to be the leader in this unfortunate crime.
At this point – arrives the most fitting circumstance; the continued absence of him with the dark complexion. Observing the complexion of this man as dark and swarthy; it was by no means a common swarthiness that constitutes the sole point of remembering, regarding both Valence and Madame Du Luc. The question remains… Why is this man missing? Was he murdered by the gang? If so, why are there only traces of the murdered girl? The scene of the two grizzly outrages will be of course, naturally be supposed identical. And where is his corpse? Would not the perpetrators have disposed of both bodies in the same manner? It has been said that this man still lives and is deterred from making himself known due to dread of being charged with the murder.
This late consideration might be supposed to operate upon him since it has been established that he has been seen with Marie. This realization bears no weight at the epoch of the dastardly deed. The first impulse of an innocent man would have been to announce the outrage and to offer assistance in identifying and apprehending the ruffians. This behavior would unsurprisingly suggest.
He had been seen with the girl. He had crossed the river with her in an open ferry-boat. Even an idiot, the surest and sole means of relieving himself from suspicion is to deny the existence of assassins.
Now, we may ask, what means do we have of attaining the truth, the first affair or the first elopement? Let us examine the full history of this so-called officer; with his present circumstances, along with his whereabouts at the precise period of time as the murder.
And a previous period, there were those who insisted vehemently upon the guilt of ‘Mennais’ through communications and news media. Let us endeavor to ascertain and repeat our questioning of the Madame, her boys, and the Omni-bus driver, Valence. This bears something more of the personal appearance and bearing of the ‘dark complexion man.’
Queries, skillfully directed, will not fail to elicit, from some of the parties, information on this particular point – information which the parties themselves may not even be aware of possessing.
At this time, we should bring our attention to the river vessel. This particular boat was towed into port by a bargeman. The boat, without the cognizance of the officers on duty, was submitted without its rudder. This appearance occurred prior to the discovery of the dead body.
We will further our investigation surrounding this boat. For you see gentlemen, the rudder is at hand. This sailboat would not have been abandoned without some form of inquisition. The abandoned vehicle was not repeated to any news agency of local police. So how is it that a person or persons unknown manage to silently steal away the boast without knowing of its whereabouts? Can we imagine some type of connection with the Navy? 
The probability of the killer availing himself to a boat has already been mentioned. We are to understand that Marie Rogers was cast over the side of the boat. This is the only possible conclusion that we can arrive. The corpse could not be left in the shallow waters of the shore. It would surely be discovered to soon. The dead body shows peculiar marks on the back, shoulders, and rib cage. These marks are consistent with the bottom ribs of the sailboat in question. Since the body was dumped and found without weighted supports, is indicative to presuppose the body being disposed of by boat as opposed to being disposed of from shore. If it was thrown from a shore point, a weighted object would have been attached, keeping it from surfacing. We can account for the absence of weights by the killer due to his neglected precaution. He would have probably unquestionably noticed his oversight. He had no way of making corrections to the error. He would not dare to return to scene of the dragging. Having disposed of the accursed corpse, the killer would hasten his retreat back into the city. He would have been in too great a hurry in securing the boat at the wharf, once slipping out of it. The natural thing to do is to distance yourself from the chalice of evil; this conveyance of death. He would not have wanted the boat to remain docked. He would assure himself of escape with the death vessel adrift.
By morning, unutterable horror would have gripped his soul upon discovering the boat had been discovered and picked up, and docked at the wharf of the local waterway authorities.
The next night, the killer steals away through the darkness and silently crosses the pier to where the boat is slipped. Without notice, warning, or permission, he removes the rudder. The killer then once again sets the sailboat adrift to the mercy of the rivers current.

At first glimpse, the dawn of our success begins. Our obtainment of the suspected killer’s identity has been firmly established as are his estimated whereabouts. This death-boat has guided us thoroughly to him who has employed it with a rapidity that has indeed delivered us surprise. The murderer shall be traced and apprehended with a major quickness.”

The desired approach has been brought to pass and the Prefect filled with punctuality, the fulfillment of Duprae’s contract and professional assistance.
Chaunea and I were very pleased with the ending result of this particular case. We smiled, laughed, and ate to our pleasured contentment while discussing and planning for our departure and return to Paris.

The doorbell rang. The door of our hotel-room was being assaulted by a continuous pounding and banging. I fumbled feebly for the timepiece as to advise us of the time. It was half past seven. We had drunkenly placed our heads upon soft pillow at just past 5a.m. The accursed pounding would not stop. We shouted in unison, “Go Away – Stop That Confounded Pounding Upon Our Door – You Must Have The Wrong Room!” 
A voice cried out. “Monsieur Duprae, Monsieur Poe, You Cannot Leave – You Must Come At Once!” The pounding upon the locked door commenced…again.

Duprae did not move a muscle or face from slumber. The deafening noise drove us to madness with the opening of the door. The uniformed New York City Gendarme who appeared was as pale as a ghost and drenched in perspiration. Excitement ruled the concert of his vocal chords as he delivered his horror-filled message in a high-pitched tone; as one of an operatic performer.
“There’s been another killing – another murder! You must come quickly!” Duprae was standing – starry-eyed, partially attired, and in shoes as I turned to inform him of the herald’s message.

“Eddie,” whispered Chaunea. “Have you your revolver?” I answered, “Yes.” 
“Eddie?” he asked. “Have you any silver bullets?” I answered, “No Chaunea.” 
“Let us hurry Eddie, for I fear it may be too late to catch him before he departs!”
I answered, “Who Chaunea?” I fumbled with my shoes after retrieving and putting on my trousers. “The Prefect, Chief Detective Armbruister, Chief Inspector Abberline, and Chief of Police Henderson have concluded this case. To whom do you refer?” 
Duprae did not answer as he rushed past me and through the door, down the corridor to the elevator. He frantically pushed the elevator call button before bolting down the stairs.
Once outside he hastened to find a Hanson at 7:40a.m. However, the police carriage which conveyed the message-bearing gendarme would suffice very well.
“Officer,” shouted Duprae! “You were sent to collect me and my companion, is that correct?” 
“Aye Sir, I was instructed to deliver the message and return with you and your assistant as quickly as possible by my superiors, Sir!” 
“Very well,” replied Chaunea. “Come; let us not waste a moment! We must get to the ‘Wilford Plaza’ as fast as these horses can run!” 

The driver was encouraged to lay whip through the air. The horses cried a ‘Winnie’ with excitement as they bolted forward. The steel-rounded wheels of the carriage were trimmed and fitted with a rubber coating so as not to make unnecessary clattering and clanking noises upon the cobble-stoned causeway.
The driver and gendarme protested the detour. Duprae insisted upon the unexpected direction. Before the horse-drawn carriage could be brought to a stop, Chaunea bolted forward, out of the coach, up the short flight of carpeted stairs, and through the double-doors of the hotel. He motioned for us to hurry and follow. He did not bother to call or wait for an elevator car. He bolted for the stairs instead; right up to the third floor – room three hundred and ten.
Attempting to catch our breaths, the gendarme and I managed to keep up with Chaunea. Strangely, before arriving at the hotel, we searched for a gun and weapons shoppe. We were fortunate enough to find one that was not quite fully opened for the day. The shop keeper was surprised while being caught off guard by our early morning patronage. He was even set back further with Chaunea’s amazingly fantastic and bazar request for a box of silver bullets. Again fortune has availed itself to our frantic Monsieur Duprae.

Chaunea raised his fist to knock upon the door of room three hundred and ten. Before the knock could be delivered, the door of the hotel room flew open.

“I knew it would not take you very long Monsieur Duprae.” said Abberline.
“Oui Monsieur, I can see that you are prepared for a trip. A trip back to London…to the killing grounds, Monsieur?” replied Duprae.
Abberline dropped his bags and reached with his right hand under his overcoat. Duprae placed his left hand on Abberline’s left breast, indicating a cease and desist.
Abberline dropped his right hand. Duprae motioned for the uniformed officer to take Abberline into custody.
Duprae removed a revolver from the breast-holster of Abberline’s left side inner suit-coat. Abberline did not resist. He simply took a step backward indicating surrender. When the police officer attempted to subdue and search him, Abberline struck the officer with a mighty blow of the left fist. The officer crumpled to the floor unconscious. Swinging with the right, he barely missed Chaunea who skillfully ducked the punch and kicked out hard with his right foot. The heel of his boot smacked Abberline right behind the right ear and dropped him like a sack of potatoes, flat on his face.
Abberline attempted to rise with meaningful retaliation, but to no avail. I enslaved his movement by placing my left foot on the nape of his neck and cocked the hammer of my revolver. 
Abberline could see the sparkling shine of brand new silver bullets gleaming from the chamber of my revolver; and knew immediately it was all over. You see, he knew ordinary ammunition would do him no harm. A shot from a normal lead-based projectile would not kill him while a solid-silver one would.

Chaunea removed from his left pocket, a small brown-colored bottle of no more than 50ml (2oz). He then removed the cap and dripped a few drops on the outstretched hand of Chief Inspector Abberline. The droplets singed and burned his skin almost down to the bone. The inspector screamed and cursed in unexplainable agony.
My friend leaned over to me and whispered in my ear. “Eddie, it’s ‘Holy Water.’ I’ve had it blessed by a priest well before coming here today. I then began to understand everything in complete and utter detail as I listened to Chaunea while looking into the reddening eyes of the subdued chief inspector.

Upon helping the recovering officer to his feet, Chaunea ordered him out to fetch other officers and to notify his superiors as well. After placing the inspector in restraining shackles, the officer obeyed his commands. Abberline sat in a chair near the bed and began speaking to my dear friend and cousin.

Blood stained clothing and droplets on the inspector’s shoes proved his business from the night before, the clothing discovered amongst his items in the valise; the shoes on his feet.

“I saw with my own two eyes, what that man had changed into. He changed, before my eyes, into the murderous monster of beasts; not unlike the one you see before you.” 

The inspector spoke with a great sadness; painfully, with the ease of a great burden being lifted from his shoulders.

“I saw him change and kill, maim, and destroy one hundred and twenty-three doctors, interns, and observers in that medical examination and teaching auditorium. The catastrophic insanity of that insane asylum, utterly besieged by horrific madness and rage, bloodied the place beyond all recognition. He killed and cast chaos into the calmness of the commodious teaching facility – and vengeance upon his attending antagonist physicians – upon every living soul in that atrium of observation.
The Talbot family curse has blossomed into and upon many. Sir John Talbot, Lawrence’s father, was bitten by a wild boy in the mountains of India while on a hunting expedition. The wild boy was never caught or seen again. The bite which Sir John suffered changed his life forever and that of his wife, children, and family as well. He and his spouse bore to the world, two sons. I saw him cast fear, slash, slaughter, and ravage the heart of London-Town’s ‘Piccadilly Square’ and across ‘London Bridge.’ We gave chase of him, the long-toothed, and bold of muscle, hairy beast for miles. I caught up with him at ‘Talbot Hall.’ 
I shot him once, twice, three times, and emptied my revolver. He did not stop his advance. He was shot and killed by a woman armed with a gun full of silver bullets – but not before I became infected with the disease of ‘Lycanthropy.’ He, Lawrence, did bite me and scratch me during the melee at the asylum.” 

I sat in awe, aghast at the unfolded details and sorrow spilled from the mouth of the inspector from Scotland Yard. He explained how he had managed to stay out of the lime-light and suspicion by investigating and working cases mostly alone. He espoused a great sorrow for the many lives taken by him over the years while being afflicted with this terrible infection.
His continual denial and mounting bodies, taken mostly from the poorest of district boweries like London’s ‘White Chapel,’ ‘White Hall ’and‘ The Rue Morgue’; have served to feed his hunger.
The rich and lofty gave not a care for the happenings, concern, and plight of the poor. Dead bodies pilling up didn’t matter so long as they were properly disposed of. Many went to medical facilities, asylums, and experimental laboratories anyway. The ‘Body-Snatchers’ made a wonderful living of such.

“Marie and her two friends, had simply become an inconvenient nuisance.” said the inspector. “You see, while we were expectantly working here in New York, I happened upon them one evening prior to the hunt.
St. Eustache, a useless peasant discovered my secret. I held him to secrecy. I thought he might serve me well. I was wrong. He found the body of Marie after he’d told her about me the night before. He planned to ‘blackmail’ me and told her of such. Her betrothed and her so-called secret lover were in cahoots; conspirators. He knew she would die the moment I found out about the conspiracy. He knew that she would die as well as his partner in crime, the sailor who got away…but not for long. He would have held me to blackmail and his fortune. I bade Eustache to take his woman away from this place. He failed. I promised ‘Mennais’ life-time wealth once he did rid the world of the two lovers and my secret with them. He did just that.
Beauvis got too pushy and nosey. He began to make demands and was constantly hounding me for money, or he would expose me to ‘Madame Roget.’ He had to go…while his other lady friend of secrecy wore the ‘five-pointed star – the pentagram of death (it would simply be a matter of time before she meets her death by yours truly).’ I poured the laudanum or dilaudid, if you will, down Eustache’s throat. He would have died because of Marie anyway. I couldn’t wait for the Moon on this one.
My bags and belongings were pre-packed as of last week…

There is no cure from this illness, Monsieur. I knew it was just a matter of time before you, Monsieur, would have put it all together and to right. 
And tonight, exactly as last night; the Wolfsbane will not help because there isn’t any remaining; there will be a full moon. 

 

 

Not Quite The End!

 

 

Until Next Time. 

 

‘G’ 

~BoulwareEnterprises/Hallow II, 3.14.15-9.25.15~ 
‘Bowery of the Crimson Frock – Pt. 3’ 
Isle Manhattan: “The Changeling – Loup Garou” 
By 
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html 

 

>

Reference(s):

Hallow II: 
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/286944/a-significant-era-of-perceptive-aroma-and-vision 

Pt.2 ‘The Loch of Satanus’ (“Howl Of An Angel”) 
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html 

“Bowery Of The Crimson Frock” 
http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/ 
http://parttwotheweddingparty.blogspot.com/ 
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 

“Hallow II”: ‘Bowery Of The Crimson Frock’ (Parts One, Two, and Three) 
‘Isle Manhattan’ – “The Changeling, Loup Garou” 
Part Three: ‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock’ 
By 
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
~ Amazon ~ 
PaperBack: 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 
Kindle: 
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Gregory+Boulware&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Gregory+Boulware&sort=relevancerank 

BoulwareEnterprises.com / BoulwarePublications 
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html 

‘A Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision’ 
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2015/10/29/a-significant-era-of-perceptive-aroma-and-vision/ 

“Twitter” 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG 
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash 
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984 

Reading “Boulware!” 
~ Amazon ~ 
PaperBack: 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 
Kindle: 
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Gregory+Boulware&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Gregory+Boulware&sort=relevancerank 
#BoulwareBooks #BlackAuthors #HBCU #CCPedu #eReaders #Books #IndieBound #KDP #TheLearningKey #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #TheDailyBeast #TheGuardian #BereanInstitute #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #Bear #TheOneThingIKnow #SpiritOfTheSoul #Anthology #Enterprise #Essayist #Author #Writer #SmokeyTheBear #YogiBear #TheBearFacts #Berean #TempleU #CheyneyU #LincolnU #PennStateU #Grambling #Clemson #TheMedia #NJNews #NYNews #PhillyNews #Published #LinkedIn #Chicago #EzineAuthors #ReadersGazette #IAm

Reading Boulware? The Kindle 4-Pack:
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Gregory+Boulware&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Gregory+Boulware&sort=relevancerank 
#BoulwareBooks #BlackAuthors #HBCU #CCPedu #eReaders #Books #IndieBound #KDP #TheLearningKey #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #TheDailyBeast #TheGuardian #BereanInstitute #CoatOfArms #BBC #BBCNews #TooFondOfBooks #WebsiteMag #IoT #TweetYourBooks #BlackHistory #Herstory #WebsiteMag #IoT #TweetYourBooks #ShortStories #Lycanthropy #Werewolf #Devils #Demons #Detectives #DetectiveStories #Mystery #Horror #Hallow #HallowII #Fairmount #WebsiteMag  #BlackHistory #Herstory #Wakanda #MosaicBooks #eReader #NationalBlackBookFestival #Nibbies #BBC #BBCNews #Hebrew #Judah #Yahshua #Galactic #MNightShyamalan #IsaacAsimov #EdgarAllanPoe

>

~BoulwareEnterprises~
http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com
https://about.me/gregory_boulware

“Article Posting Sites”
https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583 
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware
http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas
https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/ 
http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498 
https://about.me/gregory_boulware
http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/ 
https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104 
http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all 
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659 
http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

~The Connect Platform~
http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608 
http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

“Amazon”
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile 
http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

And

“Twitter”
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG 
https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash
https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984

‘Virtuosity101.com’
http://virtuosity101.com/
http://virtuosity101.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288611/sankofa-never-to-forget 
http://virtuosity101.com/content/288593/a-timeless-epoch-an-ingrained-memory 
http://blackisms.com/education-2/
https://www.academia.edu/
https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware
http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware
https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361 

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily
http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

*/

 

No Time To Read…No Time To Read With Your Eyes…Then Read “Boulware” With Your Ears!!!

Oh Yes, You can now ReadAloud” with your ears! Keep on working and playing…Whatever it is that must have your attention – Without Missing-Out on Your Reading!

“ReadAloud” is a very powerful text-to-speech app which can read aloud web pages, news, documents, e-books or your own custom contents. ReadAloud can help with your busy life by reading aloud your articles while you continue with your other tasks. This app can be of great help to students with their reading assignments and also improve their reading speed. For visually impaired people this app can be of great assistance.

Get “ReadAloud!” – The Microsoft Store!
Download this App from Microsoft Store for Windows 10, Windows 10 Team (Surface Hub), Xbox One, See Screenshots, read the latest customer reviews.
https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/p/readaloud/9wzdncrdn3ms?activetab=pivot%3Aoverviewtab

Now…You Can Read “Boulware” With Your Ears As Well As Your Eyes and Mind!
http://blackhistory.com/content/292074/coat-of-arms (View Comments)

>

“READALOUD”:

ReadAloud is a very powerful text-to-speech app which can read aloud web pages, news, documents, e-books or your own custom contents. ReadAloud can help with your busy life by reading aloud your articles while you continue with your other tasks. This app can be of great help to students with their reading assignments and also improve their reading speed. For visually impaired people this app can be of great assistance.
https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/p/readaloud/9wzdncrdn3ms?activetab=pivot%3Aoverviewtab

“VOICEOVER”:

Voice-over is a Text to Voice Converter app that will read aloud any text file on your device. For many languages it can read out from a PDF file with the help of a built in text extractor. No need to type or paste(though you can). Read aloud text or pdf file on your device. File selector enable you to select the file to read.

This is a highly useful app for students wanting to read their books or others wanting to read a novel or any interesting material -fiction , non-fiction or other…
https://www.amazon.com/NIJASMART-SYSTEMS-PRIVATE-LIMITED-Voice-over/dp/B07B4T8JCH/ref=sr_1_23?ie=UTF8&qid=1530640575&sr=8-23&keywords=voice+reader

>

“Voice Reader Technology”:

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_2_12?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=voice+reader&sprefix=voice+reader%2Caps%2C146&crid=2BSXF4FKP9VJY&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Avoice+reader
https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=AwrJ7JpItztbwiIAnRxXNyoA;_ylc=X1MDMjc2NjY3OQRfcgMyBGZyA2NybWFzBGdwcmlkAzU5TmNBcDlaVHVhWTVOc01lSVNIR0EEbl9yc2x0AzAEbl9zdWdnAzAEb3JpZ2luA3NlYXJjaC55YWhvby5jb20EcG9zAzAEcHFzdHIDBHBxc3RybAMwBHFzdHJsAzMwBHF1ZXJ5A3ZvaWNlY29udHJvbGxlZHJlYWRpbmd0b29scyUyMAR0X3N0bXADMTUzMDY0MDI1Ng&#8211;?p=voicecontrolledreadingtools+&fr2=sb-top&fr=crmas

These are just some of the currently available “Read-Assist” programs. Check Them All Out and Choose The Right One For You!

>

Read “Boulware” With Your Ears As Well As Your Eyes & Mind!
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/p/readaloud/9wzdncrdn3ms?activetab=pivot%3Aoverviewtab
https://www.amazon.com/NIJASMART-SYSTEMS-PRIVATE-LIMITED-Voice-over/dp/B07B4T8JCH/ref=sr_1_23?ie=UTF8&qid=1530640575&sr=8-23&keywords=voice+reader
#BoulwareBooks #BlackAuthors #HBCU #CCPedu #eReaders #Books #KDP #TheLearningKey #UnitedBlackBooks #HarlemBookFair #TheDailyBeast #BereanInstitute

No Time To Read…No Time To Read With Your Eyes…Then Read “Boulware” With Your Ears!!!

Oh Yes, You can now “ReadAloud” with your ears! Keep on working and playing…Whatever it is that must have your attention – Without Missing-Out on Your Reading!

“ReadAloud” is a very powerful text-to-speech app which can read aloud web pages, news, documents, e-books or your own custom contents. ReadAloud can help with your busy life by reading aloud your articles while you continue with your other tasks. This app can be of great help to students with their reading assignments and also improve their reading speed. For visually impaired people this app can be of great assistance.

Get “ReadAloud!” – The Microsoft Store!
Download this App from Microsoft Store for Windows 10, Windows 10 Team (Surface Hub), Xbox One, See Screenshots, read the latest customer reviews.
https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/p/readaloud/9wzdncrdn3ms?activetab=pivot%3Aoverviewtab

Now…You Can Read “Boulware” With Your Ears As Well As Your Eyes and Mind!
http://blackhistory.com/content/292074/coat-of-arms (View Comments)

>

“READALOUD”:

ReadAloud is a very powerful text-to-speech app which can read aloud web pages, news, documents, e-books or your own custom contents. ReadAloud can help with your busy life by reading aloud your articles while you continue with your other tasks. This app can be of great help to students with their reading assignments and also improve their reading speed. For visually impaired people this app can be of great assistance.
https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/p/readaloud/9wzdncrdn3ms?activetab=pivot%3Aoverviewtab

“VOICEOVER”:

Voice-over is a Text to Voice Converter app that will read aloud any text file on your device. For many languages it can read out from a PDF file with the help of a built in text extractor. No need to type or paste(though you can). Read aloud text or pdf file on your device. File selector enable you to select the file to read.

This is a highly useful app for students wanting to read their books or others wanting to read a novel or any interesting material -fiction , non-fiction or other…
https://www.amazon.com/NIJASMART-SYSTEMS-PRIVATE-LIMITED-Voice-over/dp/B07B4T8JCH/ref=sr_1_23?ie=UTF8&qid=1530640575&sr=8-23&keywords=voice+reader

>

“Voice Reader Technology”:

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_2_12?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=voice+reader&sprefix=voice+reader%2Caps%2C146&crid=2BSXF4FKP9VJY&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Avoice+reader
https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=AwrJ7JpItztbwiIAnRxXNyoA;_ylc=X1MDMjc2NjY3OQRfcgMyBGZyA2NybWFzBGdwcmlkAzU5TmNBcDlaVHVhWTVOc01lSVNIR0EEbl9yc2x0AzAEbl9zdWdnAzAEb3JpZ2luA3NlYXJjaC55YWhvby5jb20EcG9zAzAEcHFzdHIDBHBxc3RybAMwBHFzdHJsAzMwBHF1ZXJ5A3ZvaWNlY29udHJvbGxlZHJlYWRpbmd0b29scyUyMAR0X3N0bXADMTUzMDY0MDI1Ng&#8211;?p=voicecontrolledreadingtools+&fr2=sb-top&fr=crmas

These are just some of the currently available “Read-Assist” programs. Check Them All Out and Choose The Right One For You!

Happy Reading! 🙂

Peace and Love,

‘G’

“Twitter”

*/

 

 

 

/*

 

From The Beginning I Foretell The Outcome, And From Long Ago The Things That Have Yet Been Done”

~Isaiah 46:10~

~ “THE DAWN OF RULE” ~

BY

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

https://www.academia.edu/36702533/_The_Dawn_Of_Rule_

Human-Kind has been enslaved by Sin and Death and has Labored under the Burden of Pain, Suffering, and Adversity for so long that many people have come to accept this way of Life as Normal or Natural

Early in the first century, C.E., from Britain and Gaul to Egypt, and the Region was ruled and occupied by Rome…one remote area was a source of constant frustration for the ruling entity – ‘Judea!’

Is it not true the humankind was given (certain) characteristics and qualities that mirrored ‘God’s’ own, such as love, and a sense of justice by God?

It has been said that humankind was also endowed with the ability to think and reason coupled with moral and spiritual capacities. These endowments have allowed humankind to appreciate the universe in all its’ grandeur. The wonders of nature, art, music, poetry, and above all…the unique capacity to worship the ‘Creator.

Attributes such as these creates the immeasurable gulf between humans and all other living creatures on this planet. Humankind has also been given the seemingly limitless potential to develop and enhance the holistic blessings.

For thousands of years, people have wondered and speculated what the future will be. How do you think the future will be for you and yours; does it promise riches or ruin; love or loneliness; will you live a long life or a short one?

Gugliemo Marconi,” inventor of (one version) the wireless telegraph, stated “The wireless will make war impossible.” He made this prediction in 1912, according to “The Watchtower.” Another failed prediction rejected the “Beatles,” a musical group, success as an impossibility due to a decline of guitar-playing group music’s popularity.

Soothsayers, astrologers, and fortune-tellers have consistently professed their ability to predict the future.

People have consulted fortune-tellers almost forever. How many people have considered the issue of consistency? The predictions of many so-called fortune-tellers utilize many methods that often contradict one another – even if and/or when the same method is applied.

Critics, non-Believers, and Exposé(s) have boasted how cards, crystal balls, pools of water, tea-leaves, and the lines on a persons hand as mere props. The fortune-teller uses these things to read the reaction of a person – gaining the persons trust, enabling them to obtain the family jewels of large sums of money for their beguiling services.

A highly-skilled fortune-teller has the ability to gain access into the victim’s inner secrets or background history by asking all the right questions – carefully watching for verbal and non-verbal clues, revealing facts or situations unknowingly given away.

Accordingly, these practices imply the future of human-kind is predetermined. Many of these predictions are so general that they could apply to anyone.

Would you not agree with this analogy?

Is it not true that we as human beings, have been given the ability by God to choose what we believe in or what we wish to believe in and/or what we chose to do? Do our choices affect our future?

~Joshua 24:15~

Astrologers believe (or so they say) that the stars, the moon, and the planets significantly influence the lives of the people on this planet we call Earth.

They claim the position of these celestial bodies at the time of one’s birth shapes his or her personality and future. It’s been proven that predictions made by different astrologers for the same individual(s) do not (always) match. Astrology classifies people under one of twelve categories – zodiac signs, according to their date of birth.

One example could be made with my particular case… My cousin “Denise” and I where born the same day and year. The only difference, or so I’m told by my parents, is that I was born in the morning, she in the afternoon.

The zodiac signs, according to practitioners, are said to give clues to a person’s character, people who have the same birthday do not share the same traits; one’s birth date reveals nothing about his or her personality.

Instead of seeing people as they really are, they judge a person’s behavior and character by a set of assumptions. I’m sure many of us would agree that this belief is a form of prejudice.

This author can most assuredly promise major differences in the character of my cousin and me, not simply the fact that I am male and she female.

So, the question, once again, becomes a continuation:

are projections based on patterns in tea-leaves, coffee grounds, tarot cards, crystal balls, dice, and other means to read a person’s future – a reliable or concrete way to discern the forecasted future of humans?

This statement has also been written…

Worshipers of Godwe find these words:

“There should not be found in you anyone…who employs divination, anyone practicing magic, anyone who looks for omens, a sorcerer, anyone binding others with a spell (not to mention-chains), anyone who consults a spirit medium (an exorcist?) or a fortune-teller, or anyone who inquires of the dead…for whoever does these things is detestable to the “Most High!”

~ Deuteronomy 18:10,12 ~

Now…what all that is stated in this message applies to what is being fulfilled today – according to prophecies…take a moment and compare today’s ruling factions as it relates to what has transpired according to history – biblical or otherwise…

Today – a similar choice is before you (and I), and “how you/we choose will determine what your/our future will be. It’s true that circumstances in life can quite seriously affect your plans – your future depends upon your choice.”

“You are going to hear of wars and reports of wars…nations will rise against nation(s) and kingdom against kingdom.”

~ Matthew 24:14 ~

Its been said that ‘Lucifer’ most likely exacerbated a great many things… “Is it better to serve in Heaven than to rule in Hell?” ‘The Fire and The Fury’ has spoken to the non-belief in “climate change” and “global warming” as well as the dis-belief in doing the right things as it relates to life itself. So-called leaders who turn their backs on humanity and its’ suffering have no place making decisions for those of us who are human beings. Would you not agree?

How and why is it that Nazis are walking about within the confines of ‘Democracy?’ How and why is it that “Black Men, Women, and Children” are subject to lynchings and terroristic oppression decades after the “Emancipation Proclamation?”

Nuclear War Now Threatens The Nation What Role Will Racism Play During A Time of Global Consternation?

“Bizarre behavior behind closed doors have been piling up…Douthat, for one, is now calling on Trump’s officials to invoke the 25th Amendment!”

“The presidency now has kinglike qualities, and we have a child upon the throne!”

Sergeant Isaac Woodward, a twenty-seven-year-old black veteran, upon being honorably discharged from Camp Gordon in Augusta, Georgia, was pulled from a public bus (still in his uniform), incarcerated, and during the night, he was beaten so badly that he was blinded in both eyes (one was gouged out).

In Alabama, when a Black Veteran removed the Jim Crow sign on a trolley, an angry streetcar conductor unloaded his pistol into the ex-Marine. The Chief of Police found him staggering away and administered a single bullet to his head, finishing the job.

In South Carolina, another Black Veteran complaining about Jim Crow transportation had his eyes gouged out with the butt of the sheriff’s billy club.

In Louisiana, a Black Veteran who defiantly refused to give a white man a war memento was dismembered, castrated, and blow-torched.

In Monroe, Georgia, two Black Men (one a Veteran who did not show proper obeisance and the other accused of flirting with a white woman) and their wives were surrounded by a lynch mob of over thirty who tied the victims to trees and then fired close-range into their faces. One of the men was also castrated. One of the women had her spine severed by force of the sixty bullets that entered her body. The other woman was seven months pregnant. Outrageously, newly released files in 2007 reveal that the FBI investigated suspicions that the three-term governor of Georgia, Eugene Talmadge, sanctioned the murders to sway rural white voters during a tough election campaign. No one was ever arrested.

In 1973, the Civil Rights Division of the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) filed a civil rights suit against the Trump Organization (TO; Fred Trump, chair, 27-year-old Donald Trump, president) charging it with “violating the Fair Housing Act of 1968.”

In 1973 when the Justice Department accused him of trying to deter prospective Black and Puerto-Rican tenants by insisting there were no vacancies or pretending the rent was much higher. He settled the case, not admitting guilt, but was forced to place ads reassuring minorities. A decade later, Trump was accused of intimidating tenants he wanted to get out of a building on Central Park, cutting off heat and hot water, and failing to carry out repairs.

It is a travesty when politician’s piggy-back their agenda’s on the backs of the suffering mourners for their lost loved-ones! Where is the shame? Where is the sympathy? Where is the love and compassion?

Forty-Nine Dead, Many injured, and a country shook in the massacre of Florida’s Orlando ‘LBGT’ Community. Quadrupled with the sadness and misery of death and fear, out of the ashes of divineness, bigotry, and evil intentions spewed the poison tongue of non-sympathetic finger pointing and false accusations by the presumptive presidential candidate. This act of non-compassion reflects the mandates of him and those who believe as he does… the direction of death-dealing leadership intended for the future of our country. Constant insults from this current president, Black Folks, Native Indigenous Folks, Latino-(Spanish-Speaking) Folks, Islamic Folks, Middle Eastern Folks, Asian Folks, and many other immigrants of this American Society have not dodged the bullets of the ‘trump!’ Is this truly the leadership that will sit in the oval office of these United States?

What will happen with the world-allies who also fear the destruction of Planet Earth if this un-Godly disciple takes the reins and sits in the saddle of leadership? How many of us fear for the future of our children, grandchildren, and the children after them? Would you want this type of creature to poise his questionably-voted-in finger to press the button that releases the beginning and end of disaster from another world war…killing every living being on the planet?

During a spotlighted press conference, which he loves, this demo-Gog spit out words of nothing but hatred and abandonment for all those he truly dislikes and hates. The insistence of wall building and exclusion spells nothing short of a return to ‘Jim Crow,’ ‘Internment Camps,’ and “A Total Society of White Domination, Oppression, and Superiority!”

There have always been the existence of those who would sell us out; those who would sell their own mother for the friendly pat upon the head, the illusion of inclusion and false reward…God has a plan for them, I’m sure.

People died! Families Mourned! Lives were lost! He spoke of who was supposedly responsible and the fault of laws allowing destitute people into the country. Not one word of sympathy for those families who have felt the pain of a lost member, innocent souls that have departed this Earth in terroristic horror through no fault of their own. He blamed the family of the lone gunman who brought the death-dealing rain of death and annihilation to those who had no clue that they were to be the tool for spewing more and more hate-speak by this threat to our posterity.

The death-dealer’s Father did not have a clue to what his son was planning. He stated that he would be the first one to turn his son in to the proper authorities had he known! No cudo’s for him by the would-be world leader.

“We Are Legion, For We Are Many!” Is this the time for the “War of The Gods?” It has been said that the Devil would rise amongst the weakened souls of Man! It has been prophesized that the Demons from Hell would rise up and begin the destruction of “All Mankind!” Is this what we are and have been witnessing along with the rise of ‘White Superiority Throughout the World?’…I shudder to think this as being true, as we all; right-thinking, God-Fearing persons who have the power to stop this vile attack upon us, our people, the “People of God!” Even to those who are atheists and non-believers who do not believe in the “Most High” have something to fear from this hate-monger. We all should be made aware that this demonic leadership agenda for the masses and terrible destruction of Mankind will meet the end of existence should this “take-over” be allowed to happen – while standing by and doing nothing!

This (former presidential candidate) has a commanding lead out in front of others! Is he the next ‘Great White Hope for The Controlling Factions of white America? why is this individual not in court like our own ‘Bill Cosby?’ The courts have been prosecuting Catholic Priests and that gang at ‘Penn State’ for child abuse and rape…why not the republican presidential candidate? Why Not?

~“Some Africans Are Lazy Fools Only Good At Eating, Lovemaking And Stealing” ~

– Donald Trump –

Blacks are not my equal – they are far below us!”

We shall declare war on this Negro Dilemma!”

Eugenics will save the day!”

– Francis Galton –

Evil, vile, murdering, deceitful, and contentious behavior in people today is (increasingly) self-evident – especially by so-called “World Leaders,” would you not agree? Has it not been fully evident that we have been, and are surrounded by such people? These people who adore themselves, love money, driven by pride, and lust for all and more are more than demanding and more than not willing to respect or agree with others is a widely spread infectious disease that needs to be bombarded with radical radiation and any and all forms or discoveries of “cancer killing agents” and viral decimators – Globally!

How many of us has noticed the widespread disobedience to parents as well as a general love for pleasure than praises, obedience, and love for the “Most High?”

Are things getting worse…day by day?

Jesus once said:

The days will come upon you when your enemies will build around you a fortification of pointed stakes and will encircle you and besiege you from every side.

They will dash you and your children within you to the ground, and they will not leave a stone upon a stone in you.”

~ Luke 19:43,44 ~

As for these things that you now see, the days will come when not a stone will be left upon a stone and not be thrown down.”

~ Mark 13:1; Luke 21:6 ~

When you see your house (Jerusalem) surrounded by encamped armies, then know that the desolating of her has drawn near.

Then let those in Judea begin fleeing to the mountains, let those in the midst of her leave, and let those in the countryside not enter into her.”

~ Luke 21:20,21 ~

Satan induced our first parents – “Adam and Eve,” according to the Bible, the “King James” publication(s), etc.

They were enticed to join him in his rebellion against God. Satan claimed that “The Most High” was withholding something good from them. He said they, Adam and Eve, had the right to determine for themselves what is right and what is wrong.

Listening intently, albeit beguiled, they went along with the devil and turned their backs on “The Lord.”

They, of course, lost the prospect of living in paradise (Eden) forever…was lost.”

~ Genesis 2:17; 3:1-6; 5:5 ~

The bible also takes notes of the fact that – “In the last days, men will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, haughty, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, un-thankful, disloyal, having no natural affection, not open to any agreement, slanderers, without self-control, fierce, without love of goodness, betrayers, headstrong, puffed up with pride, lovers of pleasures rather than lovers of God, having an appearance of Godliness but proving false to its power!”

~ There Will Be Food Shortages ~

The number of (estimates) deaths in wars and armed conflicts since 1914 surpasses 100 million people – more than the entire populations of a great many nations.

In a world where we produce enough food to feed every person on the planet (900 million appr.) – it is estimated that three to fifteen million children will die from hunger or malnutrition each year…

Hear about the (current) quake(s) in Hawaii?

Each year, fifty thousand plus Earthquakes are large enough to be felt by humans. Records indicate that about one hundred and fifty of them bring substantial damage to buildings and other property. The history of such destruction also indicates that one very large and great Earthquake occurs every year – compiled estimations show between 1975 and 2000, Earthquakes have claimed the lives of more than five hundred thousand people world-wide.

~ A Visitation~

I was inspired to pen this essay after a visit from a member of “The Kingdom of Jehovah’s Witnesses.” Upon her second visit, I wasn’t available to speak with her…she promised to return on the following Sunday – she didn’t. The perfectly polite and courteous lady was very elegant in her manner – church-like and professional. She asked me if I knew “what the future held.” I gave her my impression of how I felt living in this day and age as well as how I felt living in this country with such a person running things in D.C. – of course, as an “America Voter and Citizen, my negative appraisal of these current events was the answer given.

The nice lady wished to know if she returned to speak with me, would I be receptive and possibly have another point of view – as well as an answer to the question of what I believe will happen in the future? I was/would be more than happy to meet with her again…

Many times (back in the day) people ran inside and locked their doors when they saw groups of people who were perceived to be “Jehovah’s Witnesses” coming down the street(s). “Oh shit…here they come, get inside the house, lock the doors and don’t answer; pretend that you’re not at home before they get here!” – this was the mentality that many neighborhood(s) back then. Having matured over the years, I welcome their messages as the disciples of the “Word of God!” What do you think is better, someone bringing you worthless information and material goods or a kind, heartwarming, and Holy word of God?

I do not recall…I didn’t remember the woman’s name once starting this written passage. I do hope that we meet again…and for ‘God’s sake, when they come to your house, please don’t hurt them, these disciples of the “Good Word(s).” After all, they’re simply messengers of “The Most High!”

According to the Bible, critical times hard to deal with” would come in the “Last Days!”

Strife, oppression, and suffering(s) have plagued human-kind for millenniums…

~ Roman History and Persia ~ 

~ Roman History and Persia ~ The Caesarians and The Claudians/The Julio-Claudian dynasty

How many of us have witnessed perverted justice where innocent and good people are and have been oppressed by “The Evil Ones?”

What Are We To Do While Living and Enduring Life Within This Current Administration of 2017 (and possibly beyond), My Brothers and Sisters?

Will there ever come a time when injustice and wickedness will be no more – a thing of the past – simply a thing of history?

The rebellion in “Eden” did not thwart “The Most High’s” original purpose for mankind‘His’ perfect love and sense of justice moved ‘Him’ to provide a way to free us from the bondage of inherited sin and death…

God’s purpose for ‘Human-Kind’ was to fill the Earth and subdue it, and have in subjection…every living creature that is moving on Earth.

~ Genesis 2:8,9 ~

God’s original purpose for ‘mankind’ reveals clearly with these words:

Keep strict watch that how you walk is not as unwise but as wise persons, making the best use of your time, because the days are wicked.”

~ Ephesians 5:15,16 ~

We stay close to God by making our relationship with ‘Him.’ The most important thing in our life.”

~ Matthew 6:33 ~

As for the heavens, they belong to “The Most High,” but the Earth ‘He’ has given to the sons of men.”

~ Psalm 115:16 ~

Yes, it is true, “The Most High” did create the Earth to be a beautiful, permanent home for mankind, and ‘He’ filled it with everything we need to enjoy a meaningful, endless life.”

~ Genesis 2:8,9 ~

I do believe that God’s love for us is like that of a loving parents for their children. Albeit, imperfect…loving parents instruct, encourage, support, and discipline their children because they want them to be happy and to flourish.

What do we as parents most desire in return?

We want our children to love us and take to heart what we have imparted to them for their good. So, it should not be unreasonable for “our ‘Father’ in heaven” to expect us to take time and show love and appreciation for all that ‘He’ has done for us.

Many folks believe fate or predetermination is the controlling factor in their lives. Is it unrealistic to believe that personal choice had nothing to do with it – especially when they feel they have failed to reach certain goals in life. They give up and say “It was inevitable” or “It was meant to be so?”

It is unfortunate when so many become disillusioned when they see no way out of an oppressive and unjust world – it is what many of us see and experience…continually. We see things like war, crime, murder-by-cop, natural disasters that go unaided, and sickness wreck life-long plans over and over again.

The rebel “Satan-the-Devil” tried to sabotage “The Most High’s” plans or arrangements concerning “Eden.” The rebellion by the duped couple, Adam and Eve, has had a profound affect upon humans to this very day.

God said, according to the Bible:

Through one man (Adam) sin has entered into the world and death through sin, and death has spread to all man-kind.” …Sin and death was inherited from our original parents – we are born with the inbred knowledge of right and wrong.

“Lovingly, God gave his only son (Jesus Christ/Yahushua), so that everyone exercising faith in ‘Him’ might not be destroyed – but have everlasting life,” according to the ‘Apostle Paul.’

~ Romans 6:23 ~

But, by offering ‘Himself’ willingly as a ransom sacrifice, Yahushua, redeemed all that was lost through the sinful couple, “Adam and Eve.”

…Breaking free from the yoke of power and rule begins with the understanding of what “King Solomon” attempted to put forth:

Wisdom is a protection just as money is a protection, but the advantage of knowledge is this – wisdom preserves the life of the owner!”

Knowledge and wisdom from “Yahweh” can protect us today and help us to make the wise choices in life – the wise choice leads to everlasting life in the future.

~ Ecclesiastics 7:12 ~

We learn how to gain such wisdom by listening…as one listens to his parents, listening to “The Most High’s” voice implies learning and obeying what ‘He’ says – we listen by reading and applying what is in “His” word(s) via the Bible.

~ John 5:3 ~

A Greek historian named “Herodotus” told of a biblical prophecy that came true. The Hebrew prophet who is named “Isaiah” also mentioned something about a biblical foretelling concerning the “Oracle of Delphi.” It told of a legend where priests and priestesses passed on information from a God they claimed to represent.

It has been said that “King Croesus of Lydia” sent gifts of great value to the Oracle of Delphi in Greece. The King wished to learn what the outcome would be if he fought against the Persian King called “Cyrus.”

The Oracle stated that King Croesus would “Destroy a great and powerful Empire.” A confident march against the King of Persia sallied forth.

The ambitious foretelling was worthless information. Oh yes, a kingdom was conquered and destroyed…it was indeed the Kingdom of Lydia and King Croesus who was conquered by the King of Persia. …So much for (the) fortune-telling.

The Bible on the other hand, contains a remarkable and fascinating prophecy…fulfilled in infinite detail about the King of Persia.

According to the prophecy, long before the king was born, (about 200 years), the Hebrew prophet “Isaiah” described in detail how King Cyrus would conquer the strong and mighty Kingdom of Babylon. Cyrus invaded and conquered the “City of Babylon” and freed the captive Jews therein. Herodotus said the army of Cyrus did divert the waters of “The Euphrates River.”

This endeavor enabled his soldiers to enter the city unbeknownst to its inhabitants via the riverbed.

The river which flowed into the city, was channeled away from town, lowering its level enough for the army to march into the hapless and sleeping ‘Babylonians.’

This is what “Jehovah” says to ‘His’ anointed one…Cyrus, whose right hand I have taken hold of to subdue nations before him, to disarm kings, to open before him the double doors, so that the gates will not be shut!”

~ Isaiah 45:1 ~

The Persians entered the city through the massive two-leafed gates of the city – which had carelessly been left open. The Babylonians were not aware of what King Cyrus had planned – they, if known, could have shut all of the opened gates connected to the river which left the city defenseless… This prophecy, although remarkable, is only one of many found in the Bible – unlike the predictions of men attributing to false beliefs and gods.

A triumphal arch standing in central Rome, Italy, attracts visitors from all over the world – the arch honors “Titus,” one of Rome’s favorite Emperors.

A brief history:

Claudius,” Emperor of Rome nears the end of his life and commences to write his family’s history. The incredible memoir begins before his birth, during the rule of “Augustus.”

Augustus is married to the beautiful yet treacherous “Livia,” who plots to have her son, “Tiberius,” inherit her husbands throne. Only the emperor’s spoiled daughter, “Julia” stands in her way.

Almost ten years pass before ‘Livia’ can realize her dream of vengeance and arrange the poisoning of ‘Julia’s’ husband. Now ‘Tiberius’ can marry ‘Julia’ enhancing his chances of becoming emperor. But the union fares poorly. When ‘Tiberius’s’ brother, “Drusus,” dies in the care of ‘Livia’s’ doctor, ‘Tiberius’ is driven to despair and embarks on a violent rampage that ends in his banishment from Rome.

Determined to see her exiled son, ‘Tiberius,’ become emperor, ‘Livia’ uses blackmail and murder to eliminate rivals and end his banishment. ‘Julia’ herself, is banished after ‘Livia’ reveals details of her orgies to ‘Augustus,’ turning him against his own daughter. Finally, ‘Tiberius’ returns to Rome. But he must wait in the shadow of the aging ‘Augustus’ for his time on the throne, and so must ‘Livia.’

Only one obstacle remains between ‘Tiberius’ and the throne:

‘Julia’s’ son and heir to ‘Augustus,’ “Postumus!”

‘Livia’ entraps ‘Postumus’ in and adulterous affair – a tryst, and he is arrested for rape and banished from Rome. ‘Postumus’ reveals her plots to “Claudius,” Livia’s stammering, stuttering, and lame grandson.

‘Claudius,’ though regarded as a half-wit, is wiser than anyone suspects, hiding behind the face of a fool in order to survive.

‘Emperor Augustus,’ grows more senile. ‘Tiberius’ bides his time. But when revelations of Livia’s crimes reach Augustus, the emperor realizing he has been duped, writes a new will favoring Postumus in order to block Tiberius from gaining the throne. Livia, in her ultimate act of treachery, slowly poisons her husband. After his death, she substitutes her own version of the emperor’s will and orders the murder of her remaining rivals. Tiberius finally rules in Rome.

Suspicious of a conspiracy involving Livia and Tiberius, abound.

A senate trial must be rigged to clear the emperor’s henchmen. But when the cover-up begins to unravel, one of the defendants threatens to implicate Tiberius himself in murder. He lives just long enough to regret his threat.

Tiberius revels in a life of erotic “hedonism,” living only for perverted pleasures, egged on by “Agrippina’s” cunning son, “Caligula.” His former allies see his end ahead and build ties to ‘Claudius,’ next in line for the throne. Livia, a mere shell of her former self, now regrets her son’s savage reign. On her deathbed, she reveals the full scope of the family’s crimes to Claudius – and makes him promise that she will be revered as a goddess for generations to come.

Tiberius, old and frail, slowly begins killing off all who could succeed him. Fearing assassination, he orders a purge, leaving the senate piled high with the bodies of his enemies. Claudius survives only through cleverness. Finally, Tiberius banishes his long hated rival, ‘Agrippina,’ along with her son, “Nero.” Caligula is now in position to capture the throne.

On the brink of death, Tiberius names Caligula heir to the Roman Throne. To win favor with the masses, Caligula spreads money left by Tiberius among the Roman people and pledges to pay off Livia’s debts. A new age of prosperity seems to be beginning. But Caligula soon descends into madness. He declares himself a god and embarks on an orgy of bloodletting, murdering, all who might challenge his heavenly rule – even his own sister.

Caligula, now totally mad, turns the imperial palace into a brothel with orgies and gambling. The empire is in financial ruin, though Claudius retains his dreams that one day the true Roman Republic will be returned.

Caligula taunts his court with even greater wickedness. Finally he is assassinated right in front of the eyes of Claudius. The soldiers, eager to justify their coup, give the crown to Claudius. At last he is the Emperor of Rome, as had been “Prophesied!”

Trust No One” is the advice Claudius receives from a valued friend as he assumes the throne. But the aging emperor is at the peak of his life. His beautiful young wife, “Messalina,” gives him a son and daughter, and Rome’s finances improve. But his wife secretly lusts for the nobleman “Appius Silanus” and is determined to seduce him. Her cunning manipulations lead to an attempt on the life of Claudius…and an order for the death of ‘Appius.’

While Claudius leads his army in Britain, his wife organizes a tournament of sex, challenging the “Guild of Prostitutes” to provide a champion (whore) to compete with her.

Claudius, returns from his campaign victorious, but his wife’s infidelities have made a fool of him. When she cuckolds him by “marrying another man” in a Bacchanalian Feast,” his public humiliation is complete.

After consulting with his advisors, Claudius signs a warrant for his wife’s execution.

Claudius is persuaded to remarry for his children’s sake. He takes Agrippinilla,” the most corrupt woman in Rome and the secret lover of his key advisor as his bride. Claudius wants only to make use of her brilliant mind while she longs for a position of power.

The epic story of his family’s history, which he has been writing, is now complete. Knowing the prophecy that her son, ‘Nero,’ will be Rome’s last monarch, Claudius is ready to meet his death when his wife poisons him.

The story traces the lives of several emperors and their ruthless ambitions – including shocking debauchery, incest, and murderous intrigue set in one of history’s most fascinating eras. Claudius, whose stutter and limp have marked him a fool – yet whom prophecies have foretold will one day rule Rome…

The Arch of Titus” has two large reliefs depicting a well known historical event. Less well-known, though, is the fascinating link between the arch and the Bible – the Arch of Titus bears silent witness to the remarkable accuracy of bible prophecy.

Rome renewed its campaign against “Judea,” headed by “General Vespasian” and his son “Titus.” Soon after “Emperor Nero” died (68 C.E.), ‘Vespasian’ returned to Rome to assume the throne, leaving “The Judean Campaign” to his son “Titus.” With an army of about 60,000, Titus ordered his soldiers to strip the Judean countryside of trees, which were used in building a five mile long (4.5 miles-7km) wall of pointed stakes around Jerusalem.

The Romans plundered and burned the city, its temple(s), and tore them apart stone by stone…just the way “Yahshua” has foretold.

~ Luke 19:43,44 ~

A conservative estimation was compiled, reporting that “a quarter and a half million people perished in Jerusalem along with the rest of the country.”

Titus returned to Italy and a rapturous reception by the citizens of Rome. The entire city turned out to celebrate one of the greatest triumphal processions ever staged in the capital city.

The crowds marveled as untold wealth paraded through Rome’s streets. They feasted their eyes on captured ships, massive floats depicting battle scenes from the war, and items plundered from Jerusalem’s temple(s).

Titus succeeded his father ‘Vespasian’ as emperor (79 C.E.), two years later, he was dead. Titus died unexpectedly. His brother, “Domitian,” acquired the throne and ordered the construction of the “Triumphal Arch” in his brother’s honor.

Standing as a silent witness, the Bible confirms the reliability and accuracy of biblical prophecies and establishes the facts inspired by ‘God.’

~ Peter 1:19-21 ~

According to “The Kingdom of Jehovah’s Witnesses,” the good news of “God’s Kingdom” is being preached (and taught) all over the globe, just as it was requested by ‘Jesus/Yahushua.’

The book of Daniel” (in the Bible) tells us that this kingdom is governed or a government of and by ‘God.’ There is a prophecy that traces the progression of certain dominant human governments, or kingdoms, and it alone will stand forever.”

It is also said this and other prophecies foretell that “The Most High’s Kingdom” will replace “All Human Rule” and bring stability and order to all people upon this planet…

What will life be like under God’s Kingdom, you might ask?

There will be marvelous and wondrous promises coming true:

No more wars, no more sickness, no more food shortages, no more pain, sorrow, hatred, and death, whereas life will surely have success!”

The Lord, Our God” is described in the Bible as “The God Who Cannot Lie,” promises all these wonderful things for the future!”

I have put life and death before you, the blessing and the curse; and you must choose life!”

~ Deuteronomy 30:19 ~

He has told you, O man, what is good. And what is ‘The Most High’ requiring of you?

Only to exercise justice, to cherish loyalty, and to walk in modesty with your God!”

~ Micah 6:8 ~

 

…The prophecy foretells that when this work is completed to ‘God’s satisfaction, “The end will come.”

 

What does that mean?

It will mean the end of human rule and the dawn of rule by ‘God’s Kingdom – And what promises will come true under “God’s Kingdom!”

And so my people, YOUone and all, are invited to walk with ‘HIM’ and gain the eternal blessings

 

‘HE’ has in store for those who do…the choice is YOURS!

~ “It Is The Meek Who Will Inherit and Possess The Earth” ~

 

...Will Your Prophecy Come True?

 

May Peace and Blessings Be Upon You…

 

 

…Til Next Time.

 

G”

https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware

 

 

 

Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware

‘The Platforms of BoulwareEnterprises/Publications’

~ ‘The E-Store for Books by Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.’ ~

http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profiles/blogs/the-e-store-for-books-by-boulware

New BCID: 823-13940945

http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/13940945

New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

~BoulwareEnterprises~

http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

https://about.me/gregory_boulware

 

“Article Posting Sites”

https://www.blogger.com/profile/10910946197037982583

https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/gregory-boulware/10/435/44b

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7237172.Gregory_V_Boulware

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware

http://www.wattpad.com/user/GregLitideas

https://literarygreg10xsmenow.tumblr.com/

http://koobug.com/GregoryVB_Author?p1498

https://about.me/gregory_boulware

http://www.pinterest.com/writerauthor6bk/pins/

https://plus.google.com/111976345290342184104

http://www.bookcrossing.com/mybookshelf/GVBoulware/all

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009002895659

http://ezinearticles.com/?expert_bio=Gregory_V._Boulware

 

~The Connect Platform~

http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://hbcuconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://blackwomenconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://chocolatepagesnetwork.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

http://escapeintotheword.connectplatform.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

 

“Amazon”

http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/profile

http://www.authorsden.com/gregoryvboulware

 

And

 

“Twitter”

https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG

https://twitter.com/hashtag/BoulwareBooks?src=hash

https://twitter.com/AuthorBoulwareG/status/541394366842281984

https://independent.academia.edu/GregoryVBoulware

http://knowledgeisking.ning.com/profile/GregoryVBoulware

https://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?id=168361

 

ThePaper.Li.BoulwareDaily

http://paper.li/~/publisher/5445ebb6-59f5-4aaf-bbbb-4bfc6689d423

 

 

 

Research/Acknowledgment(s):

~’Are We Talking About The 600lb Elephant In The Room?’~

http://blackhistory.com/content/327472/are-we-talking-about-the-600lb-elephant-in-the-room

~ “26 Black American Soldiers – Lynched!”~

http://hbcu.com/content/327377/26-black-american-soldiers-lynched

~ “TrumpTown USA And The K.K.K.”~

http://blackhistory.com/content/326928/trumptown-usa-and-the-k-k-k

~ “Not One Word Of Sympathy From Lips Spewing Hate!”~

http://blackinamerica.com/content/293580/not-one-word-of-sympathy-from-lips-spewing-hate

~ “RAPE!” – ‘Beneficial to Whom?’~

http://blackwomenconnect.com/content/292738/rape-beneficial-to-whom

~ “The Barrel Of The Steal Is Still Smoking”~

http://hbcu.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=292829&cid=10

~“Some Africans Are Lazy Fools Only Good At Eating, Lovemaking And Stealing”~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-GiX6d-L4E

Published on Nov 3, 2015

What Are We To Do While Living and Enduring Life Within This Current Administration of 2017, My Brothers and Sisters?

The Watchtower, Announcing Jehovah’s Kingdom, No.2, 2018

~ “SANKOFA” the “MAAFA” ~

 

Maafa:

Maafa are terms used to describe the history and ongoing effects of atrocities inflicted on African people.

“The Black Man has never been a competitor, but has always been subservient to the white race. And just as long as he remains subservient, his position is secure, and just as soon as he becomes a competitor, his fate is sealed.”

~Dr. Benjamin Hayes, Eugenicist, 1905~

http://blackhistory.com/content/273292/maafa-life-after-conquest

Sankofa:

“The Sankofa symbolizes the Akan people’s quest for knowledge among the Akan with the implication that the quest is based on critical examination, and intelligent and patient investigation.

The symbol is based on a mythical bird with its feet firmly planted forward with its head turned backwards.”

http://blackhistory.com/content/288611/sankofa-never-to-forget

~”A Man Of Color?”~

Bethlehem in Judea:

…After the days – he was brought to Jerusalem, on the 40th day he was presented to the temple before the Lord – Every male which opens the womb shall be called Holy unto God.

http://blackhistory.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=229744

I Claudius”: Image Entertainment, BBC Television Productions, 1976

Marcus Cassianius Latinius Postumus:

Encyclopedia Britannica

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Marcus-Cassianius-Latinius-Postumus

Postumus:

https://www.ancient.eu/Postumus/

https://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=UTF-8&fr=crmas&p=Postumus

Livia Drusilla:

https://www.ancient.eu/Livia_Drusilla/

https://www.ancient.eu/search/?q=Livia&sa.x=23&sa.y=20&sa=Search 

~ Roman History and Persia ~ The Caesarians and The Claudians/The Julio-Claudian dynasty
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julio-Claudian_dynasty

The written law is the Torah- also known as the Chamishei sifrei Torah or chamishei sifrei Moshe, the Five books of the Torah or the Five Books of Moses. These are the ones you are familiar with as the Pentateuch at the start of the bible.

https://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AwrEzeaCuAhbuPsAXxhXNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTByMjB0aG5zBGNvbG8DYmYxBHBvcwMxBHZ0aWQDBHNlYwNzYw&#8211;?qid=20070611084533AAoahEF

 

 

 

Tags:

#Prophecy #FortuneTelling #TheZodiac #Books2BelieveIn #BookRiot #Postumus #Sankofa #BoulwareBooks #Maafa # RAPE #Rome #Italy #TheHolyBible #Egypt #America #Political #Democracy #Politics #Vote #Elections #Yahushua #Jesus #BlackHistory #History #Religion #HBCU #Jehovah #Yahweh #Caligula #Greece #AncientRome #Iclaudius #Claudius #Nero #Africa #Hebrew #TheMostHigh #KingSolomon #KingJames #Genesis #PlanetEarth #Earth #TheMoon #Moonbeams #Rainbow #Rainbows #BlackVeterans #Horoscope #JehovahsWitnesses #KingSolomon #TheHolyBible #TheHolyQuran #TheTorah

 

*/