Category: Science Fiction


/*

‘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:

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/*

‘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:
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~”Nuclei Sarcoma, The Evil of Cancer”~

‘Charmaine, Gregory, Vernon, and Allyse’
By

Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

https://www.academia.edu/37099329/Nuclei_Sarcoma_The_Evil_of_Cancer
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/335475/nuclei-sarcoma-the-evil-of-cancer
http://ezinearticles.com/?Nuclei-Sarcoma,-The-Evil-of-Cancer&id=9981301

 

“Patient’ with different kinds of cancer(s) have been cured by the use of drugs!”

As We Know It, in 1930, “Cancer of the Lung was a Rare Disease… in the 70’s a Drastic Change Occurred – Lung Cancer Had Become The Leading Cause Of Death From Cancer Among Males In The United States of America!”

“Scientists Are Hopeful That Many Cancers Will Be Cured By ‘Chemo’ In The Future!”

 

An uncontrolled growth and spread of body cells, is often known as “Cancer.” Under a microscope, the black dotted cells known as nuclei are identified as cancer-cells. This identity is defined in comparison to healthy living cells that are small (black dots) with a wall-like perimeter surrounding them. The large black-dotted nuclei has no such wall.

These invading cells can occur in all kinds of animals and plant-life alike. Our focus, in this submission is basically a closer-look at cancer, and a-focus-on-humankind and the very real threat to our health and life.

The process of cell division gets out of hand during the cancerous invasion process when cellular modules are continually produced, vastly more than needed. Making matters worse, these unneeded cells continually produce more unneeded (or wanted for that matter) cell tissue. While these new “wild cells” continually divide, they are in the habit of forming larger and larger masses of new tissue… These are identified as Tumors.

Not all tumors are harmful or life-threatening. Some of these “tumors” are benign. Albeit, being of no use to the body, they could easily interfere with its normal activities. These type(s) of tumors are usually surrounded by a “skin-like” membrane, limiting its growth, preventing the invading cells from spreading into other regions of the body. The killer-cells, called “malignant,” are not contained… They have no walls holding them in – keeping them from spreading into other areas or regions of the body. They invade all normal cellular tissue – they grow and spread rapidly, invading, dominating, and destroying all normal cellular tissue – these monsters are also tumors – THESE MONSTERS ARE CANCER!

Cancer can occur in any kind of living cell. Being that there are many types of “cell tissue” in existence, the human category alone has over one hundred different kinds of cell tissue… so there can be more than one kind of cancer cell(s). In short, “Cancer is not one disease but a large family of diseases!”

The human body is made up of many different types of cellular tissue. Each of these is in turn, made up of or contains many other different kinds of cell tissue. Many of these cells constantly divide, making it possible for the body to make more of itself, explaining why young humans grow; why the body repairs itself; and the replacing of worn-out tissue, etc.

The four major kinds of cancer are called:

“Carcinomas,” “Sarcomas,” “Leukemias,” and “Lymphomas.”

Many types of skin cancer(s) can be typed as “Carcinomas” or cancer(s) of the skin. Identified with the skin-like linings of the lungs, the stomach, internal organs, glands and/or the upper and lower intestines of humans and animals alike.

The connective tissue(s) like bone, cartillage, and fat is attacked by a cancer known as “Sarcoma.”

This is the type of cancer that attacked my nine year old niece.

Cancers involving bone marrow cells are “Leukemia.”

“Lymphoma(s)” is identified as cancer that attacks the blood. Albeit, both of these cancers attack blood cells, lymphoma is the cancer that attacks the “Lymphatic System” (or Lymph Glands). The lymph is the fluid that fills the spaces between the body’s cells.

According to cancer research, more than ninety percent of cancers appear or occur in persons over the age of forty. Due to the fact of people living longer, cancer has become a common disease. This conclusion is partly drawn on the fact that people were not living long lives, primarily past the age of thirty-five or forty.

Chemicals is another factor that is partly to blame for the epidemic. Cigarette smoke being the primary principle in infections then and now.

Cancer, in these United States, is known to be a major culprit in death-dealing infections; second only to ‘Heart Disease. Current statistics show only a little over one third of recorded cancer patients as being actual survivors. Many patients are and have been treated with radiation, in carefully administered measures of X-Rays, Radioactive Cobalt, Radioactive Isotopes, and/or Chemotherapy (Drug Treatment).

These types of treatment is intended to possibly cure the cancer patient of his or her affliction(s).

The purpose of research by a multitude of clinics and research institutions all over the world, is to prevent new cases of cancer. The detection of the disease in its early stages allow for an early defence; allowing for the implementation of new and improved treatment while finding new ways to prevent and/or cure this killer disease.

The detection of cancer is paramount. The successful treatment of the disease is more than likely; before the spreading process has begun; taken effect once its presence has been announced.

“Karkinus,” as defined by the Ancient Greeks, means “Crab” or “Crab-like” because of the crablike spreading of the invading cancer. “Crab-cancer” is what it was called by the Ancient Romans. Malignant growth is also spread when the invader is broken off from the original growth. Different parts of the body are invaded by the cancer cells via the blood stream or the lymph vessels. The new colonies of the evil invaders are called “Metastases.”

In an essay by “Helena Curtis,” and “T. Gerald Delang,” of the Sloan-Kettering Institute for Cancer Research, report an observation of “Chimney Sweeps” in 1775, believed that “soot” from chimneys was the cause of cancer. This report was recorded by a London based surgeon named “Percival Pott.” He said that chemicals may not be the ultimate cause of cancer but seem to have had an effect on living cells in such a way that cancer(s) develop.

Chemical based food coloring and flavoring used as preservatives, along with more than four hundred other cancer causing material(s) commonly used in industrial endeavors, have been identified as root sources with the testing of laboratory animals since 1930. Coal Tar was utilized in producing cancerous cells in rabbits by scientists back in nineteen-fifteen. Fifteen years later, more scientists found the chief carcinogen in the coal tar experiment, according to cancer researchers.

The conclusive details have resulted in the industrial communities steps to try and protect the workers who are exposed to coal, tar, soot, asbestos, dyes in other commonly used material(s).

Clear answers are not always present when chemicals are added to our food(s) as flavoring, coloring, or preservative agents. Many governments attempt to make sure that these types of chemicals are not cancer causing carcinogens. One example of chemical bans is “Cyclamates.” These are a kind of artificial sweetener commonly used by consumers. There has been plenty of disagreements by government agencies and researches regarding the banning of these types of chemicals. The United States Government has banned the use of cyclamates due to laboratory test-rats.

“Three out of four,” say The American Cancer Society. “Lung Cancer Deaths are the result of cigarette smoking.” They state “The Death Rate From Lung Cancer Is Ten Times As High Among Cigarette Smokers As Among Those Who Have Never Smoked. Those who smoke two or more packs of cigarettes per day, the rate is twenty times as high as among non-smokers.”

Laboratory results support these findings. Carcinogens are contained within tars on tobacco. Many scientists agree that more research is needed in order to learn about the reasons why people smoke.

Cancer epidemiology is the study of cancer occurrences in different groups of people. One example of this study is the research on lung cancer in smokers and nonsmokers alike.

Cancer often does not always cause pain or show itself during the early stages. Early cancers are almost always detected by doctors during regular (and/or irregular) physical examinations.

Hidden cancer is often revealed through a simple test could save hundreds of thousands of lives every single year. However, no such test exists – there are particular tests that detect particular types of cancer(s). One such test is called “The Papanicolaou Test.” This test is used to detect cancer in the womb, particularly the cervix. The “PAP Test” is the commonly known name for detecting cervix cancer. A trained medical professional can almost always, with the use of a microscope, pick out the cancerous cells as opposed to normal cells. Scientist, collectively, have been utilizing this method of cancer detection for many other forms of cancer.

Researchers say many forms of cancer cannot be traced to outside agents as they are forced to seek the cancer causes within the body. Heredity is a major area of concern as living organisms inherit the basic makeup through the passed down cellular tissue(s). Mice in laboratories have been tested and researched regarding this question; supposing something is or was wrong within the cells of the parent – could this be possible, the passing of cancerous cells via generation to generation?

Closely studied lab mice have been bred relating “generation after generation” in an attempt to compare what happens within and to different groups.

Cancer(s) and other cellular tissue have been transplanted from one animal to another, especially those who happen to be or are much like identical twins. The results vary. In some strains, about ninety to one hundred percent of these mice have developed certain types of cancer. In other strains cancer is almost unknown. The test results have shown inherit cancer or a possible tendency toward it in the tested lab mice.

Human studies haven’t been able to prove this theory, as they have not anything so defining. Albeit, several types of tumors do seem to run in families. This research does not mean that other family members would develop the same disease.

In learning about the relationship between cancer and heredity, a great deal more research is needed.

Exposure to rays, radiation(s), ultraviolet, x-rays, and radio active elements, i.e., radium are also agents of cancer. People who have to work outdoors and are constantly exposed to large doses of ultraviolet rays can possibly contract and/or develop skin cancer to commonly exposed areas of the skin, such as the back of hands, the neck, and most probably the face.

In 1895, ‘Wilhelm Roentgen’ discovered that x-rays were a most powerful form of a cancer causing agent. Prolonged exposure to x-rays when not carefully utilized, developed cancer(s) to the skin and bone.

Only the smallest possible amounts of radiation should be used in taking dental or chest x-rays. However, it is not to say that x-rays shouldn’t be administered, because when handled correctly, “The benefits of careful medical use, far outweigh the possible risks.”

Unnecessary use of x-rays, by law, is forbidden. New types of equipment today, has been designed to protect both the patient, administrating technicians, and the doctor.

Studies across the globe have shown that the cancer rate among people residing in cities is only slightly higher than those who dwell in rural areas.

Motor powered vehicles, power plants, and factories need to burn fuel in order to operate. The burning of these fossil fuels discharged into the air (mainly over cities) – the burned fuel becomes waste which is a carcinogenic cancer causing entity – Air Pollution!

Some carcinogenics, according to the (cancer) article, may take up to twenty years or more before a cancer develops.

Another monster which seeks to suck all the life from us is the “Virus!”

The virus is the smallest of germs. Studies have found that the deadly invader(s) grow only within living cells.

Some time around 1900, an American Doctor and scientist, discovered that certain types of cancer in tested chickens is caused by a virus. From that point in time, other researchers, as well, have found that many other cancer-causing viruses have been discovered. Cancer from viruses have been found in hamsters, monkeys, mice, as well as other mammals through profound and rigorous research.

According to many researchers, a virus is made up of a substance called “Nucleic Acid,” wrapped in a coating of protein. The record goes on to say that there are Deoxyribonucleic Acid (DNA), and Ribonucleic Acid (RNA). These cells are the living things our bodies are made of. The “DNA” cells are the blueprint of our individuality – our physical identification, (if you will); determining the structure of the cell and for that matter, what substances that particular cell will manufacture.

When a living cell is invaded by a virus, the nucleic acid of the virus slips out of its protein coat and becomes an invisible part of that cell. When this happens, it is highly possible for these viruses to produce new viruses creating hundreds of new viruses to come to fruition. Hundreds of these killer demons are created and released from the cell(s) which go out to infect other cells.

It’s been noted that oftentimes, the virus does not order the invaded cell to replicate. Instead, the nucleic acid becomes a part of the DNA of the living cell – “Assimilation!”

By doing this, a virus can possibly change a normal cell into one that is cancerous. The replicated DNA makes an exact copy of itself and is passed onto other living cells.

When the cell divides, each of the two new cells receives one of the copies. As I can best understand the explanation, before a cell divides, its DNA replicates, making an exact copy of itself. The new cells are exactly like each other and like the original cell! This changed or duplicated cell is cast, “A Mutation!”

Does this all sound too “Science Fiction?” Does a few movie titles come to mind? How about “The Thing From Another World,” starring James Arness grab you? You’d probably remember the version of the “Thing” starring ‘Kurt Russell. How about “Alien” starring Sigourney Weaver? There are many other moving pictures plays depicting alien assimilations on the big screen as well the “Boob-Tube!” Remember “The Invaders” with Roy Thinnes? I often wondered were many of the ‘Sci-Fi’ authors got their material. But this Man-killer of which we speak, is life action continuing and constant danger(s).

A lot more research is greatly needed before mankind can win the war against cancer. Vaccines have been in development by scientists for the sole purpose of destroying these cancer-causing viruses. New cures are being sought by many scientists around the world.

Many scientists truly believe that cancer cells could be mutants. This belief is supported by the action(s) of some carcinogens, i.e., chemicals and x-rays. They all are in agreement that these agents (from Hell) cause cancer while also creating mutations that are not cancerous…

How many would question the logic to that statement?

However, they (collectively, according to medical reviews and reports) do agree that thousands upon thousands of chemicals are being tested for their effect in relation to substances that are known cancer-killers. Although many other chemicals have been tested for the substances found within living cells – while others have been chosen at random. The drugs currently used today against cancer have been found in this manner. The cost of this research goes beyond affordability.

The scientific goal in this fight against cancer is to know everything possible about normal cells is the key to understanding and controlling the abnormal cells that are cancerous.

Radiation, X-Rays, and Radioactive Isotopes have been used to kill cancer cells. Medical Professionals, Engineers, and many other researchers have designed equipment to pinpoint the targeted cancer cell(s), while minimizing the damage to the normal or healthy cell(s).

One of the methods, as this author understands, used for treating cancer is surgery. The goal of the surgeon(s) is to completely remove the cancerous tissue. The down side to this choice is that surgery is not always possible, nor is it the answer. Therefore, another treatment must be found.

You may recall, previously, the mentioning of my beautiful young niece who was attacked by this vile menace.

Her name – “Allyse Virginia Coulter-Cruz!” This beautiful angel was diagnosed with “OsteoSarcoma” (Bone Cancer), at the innocent age of ten (10). I can remember when she complained of her legs being in pain while we vacationed in the “Pocono Mountains.” Our family had no reason to think it was anything other than child-hood fatigue… We did a lot of walking in the mountains in those days. I carried her around on my back most of the remaining time during that particular trek. Once the pain passed, she walked around on her own, playing and running around with her cousins.

The disease wasn’t discovered until after we’d been back in the city; post vacation, a week or so, not much longer than that. Allyse was out walking with her mother, in their neighborhood of ‘Tacony,’ when she tripped on a sidewalk. Her leg of course was broken. Witnesses were stunned to see the odd way in which it was twisted.

Allyse underwent several surgeries, remissions, and relapsed twice during her superior and courageous battle.

Allyse was born to “Charmaine Ruth Coulter,” my beloved Sister-In-Law, on July 1st, 1988. Just prior to this child’s fourteenth birthday, she lost the fight. She left us to return “Home” on June 30th, 2002.

“Our Beloved Angel Was Born Unto This Earth, Has Returned To Heaven!”

On a personal note, I’ve decided to share this story/information in hopes that the stated experience may provide some insight and aid in ones research as well; providing some helpful background into the deadly evil destruction of this menacing disease and the effects it has on the living…

There was another personal experience pertaining to cancer’s terrible and deadly attack. I knew a man, a friend, who contracted throat cancer and passed away way too soon. The killer struck from out of nowhere – a totally unexpected attack. It was simply horrible to witness his suffering. Charles (Charley) Palmer of “East Falls” in ‘Philly,’ PA suffered only a short while before succumbing to his illness.

In this (Charles’) case, it was surely the cancer that surely killed him. In the case of my niece, it was the viral infection that caused her untimely demise.

Another friend of mine who contracted this terrible disease is a guy who lived across the street from me. His name is Edgar (Buddy) Johnson. He contracted lung cancer and managed to survive after surgery. He is still alive and kicking to this day. His current age is eighty-two. And still another of my friends who have suffered this killing machine was Ronald (Kenyatta) Reed. He passed away at the age of sixty-seven. The surgery that would have probably saved him was a “Bone Marrow Transplant.”

Remember, in its early stage(s), cancer may not cause pain or show itself… it’s the testing and physical examination(s) that ultimately detect the threat.

Chemotherapy, or the utilization of drugs to fight this disease is a common method administered by cancer specialists. The treatment incorporates a combination of chemotherapy and radiation, according to medical journals, reviews, and professionals.

The drug administration is intended to make the cancer cells more susceptible to radiation. The medical reports go on to state this treatment will prolong a person’s life while relieving pain. It’s also been reported in the medical communities, that “patient’s with different kinds of cancer(s) have been cured by the use of drugs used in this fashion.” Scientists have said they are hopeful that many cancers will be cured by “Chemo” in the future.

 

We shall See… as we remain hopeful.

 

“Cancer, So United It Cannot Cripple Love, Shatter Hope, Corrode Faith, Destroy Peace, Kill Friendship, Suppress Memories, Silence Courage, Invade The Soul, or Steal Eternal Life – It Cannot Conquer The Spirit!”

 

~ In Constant, Never-Ending, and Loving Memory of Our Own Sweet Allyse~

 

 

 

Til Next Time…

 

‘G’

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?id=641608

 

 

Have you read “Boulware?” Reading is the brain on UpGrade! Upload the written works of this astute and informed author – See what it means when you hear “The Thing,” “Alien,” “The Invaders,” “Mutants,” and more within this current article submission… Read “Boulware” Today and Forever More! You’ll be glad you did. http://www.BoulwareEnterprises.com

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/expert/Gregory_V._Boulware/121107

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9981301

 

Research/References/Acknowledgments:

Cancer:
“Carcinomas,” “Sarcomas,” “Lukemias,” and “Lymphomas.”
“Dr. Helena Curtis,” and “Dr. T. Gerald Delang,” of the Sloan-Kettering Institute for Cancer Research
https://www.mskcc.org/cancer-care/types
https://www.mskcc.org/cancer-care/types/pancreatic
http://www.smokershistory.com/MSKCC.htm
https://www.mskcc.org/locations/directory/memorial-hospital

Dr. Wilhelm Roentgen
http://www.findingdulcinea.com/news/on-this-day/November/Scientist-Wilhelm-Rontgen-Discovers-X-rays.html
https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/physics/laureates/1901/rontgen-bio.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilhelm_R%C3%B6ntgen

Dr. Peyton Rous
https://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/medicine/laureates/1966/rous-bio.html

The American Cancer Society
https://donate3.cancer.org/?campaign=search&utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=%5BB%5D%20American%20Cancer%20Society%20-%20Exact&utm_term=the%20american%20cancer%20society&utm_content=4VmQ52nT_dc|pcrid|77034572779689|pmt|be|pkw|the%20american%20cancer%20society|slid||pgrid|4808639047|ptaid|kwd-27239108890:loc-190|&msclkid=32b68de5cf221cb788bcd6b128c85207
https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=A0geKaAp51Rb0A4AgxZXNyoA;_ylc=X1MDMjc2NjY3OQRfcgMyBGZyA2NybWFzBGdwcmlkA3pfYzlfMml4Ui4uRDRnTzQ3Vm05T0EEbl9yc2x0AzAEbl9zdWdnAzEwBG9yaWdpbgNzZWFyY2gueWFob28uY29tBHBvcwMwBHBxc3RyAwRwcXN0cmwDMARxc3RybAMzMwRxdWVyeQNUaGUlMjBBbWVyaWNhbiUyMENhbmNlciUyMFNvY2lldHkEdF9zdG1wAzE1MzIyOTEwMzg-?p=The+American+Cancer+Society&fr2=sb-top&fr=crmas

The New Book of Knowledge, Vol. 3, 1984, Grolier Inc.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Book_of_Knowledge
https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=AwrJ7JXd51RbKF0ASzxXNyoA;_ylc=X1MDMjc2NjY3OQRfcgMyBGZyA2NybWFzBGdwcmlkA21Ydmdza0w5UW5TamY2bm5hYWh2V0EEbl9yc2x0AzAEbl9zdWdnAzQEb3JpZ2luA3NlYXJjaC55YWhvby5jb20EcG9zAzAEcHFzdHIDBHBxc3RybAMwBHFzdHJsAzQxBHF1ZXJ5A1RoZSUyME5ldyUyMEJvb2slMjBvZiUyMFdvcmxkJTIwS25vd2xlZGdlBHRfc3RtcAMxNTMyMjkxMTMz?p=The+New+Book+of+World+Knowledge&fr2=sb-top&fr=crmas

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Posting List Links and Locations to Articles by Boulware
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New BCID: 823-13940945 – Hallow

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#BoulwareBooks #Mutants #Mutations #Assimilation #TheInvaders #Alien #TheThing #TheThingFromAnotherWorld #SciFi #Science #Cancer #Childhoodcancer #Disease #TheCure #Medication #TheMedicalSociety #TheJournalOfMedicine #Doctor #Nurse #TheNursesJournal #ChildrensHospital #StChristophersHospital #Monsters #Tumors #Virus #Chemotherapy #Carcinogenics #Carcinomas #Sarcomas #Lukemias #Lymphomas #TheAmericanCancerSociety #XRays #Chemo #Radiology #MRI #AirPollution #CigaretteSmoking #Cigars #Death #Heredity #Research #BoulwarePublications #Tumor #Cyst #Polycystic #Malignant #Benign #Metastasis #Sarcoma #Carcinoma #Oncology #Patho #Research #Symptoms #Treatment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“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 

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“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!!!

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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.
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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”

*/

 

 

 

/*

 

~ “AI”…of Human-kind ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://ezinearticles.com/?AI-Of-Human-Kind&id=9927310

 

“Which Came First, The Chicken Or The Egg?”

Several years ago, you may recall a publication describing our growing dependency upon machines, devices, and “AI.” On several occasions, I’ve attempted to bring awareness to this phenomenon of artificial intelligence abilities in creating and/or re-creating itself…over and over again. What once was a ‘science-fiction’ story has been brought to bear, in living color, a scientific fact.

The article, “Device Machine Dependent,” has described instances and descriptions where robots or robotics have been designed to emulate the actions, abilities, and appearance(s) of mankind…“Human-Like”; “The Image of Its’ Creator!”

How many times have you been in your car and engaged in a shouting match or argumentative interaction with your ‘GPS’ or “Onboard Interface?” Aw, c’mon now…haven’t you gotten angry and screamed at the device when the voice behind it gives you screwed up or wrong directions? Sure you have.

Selene Yeager, a contributing author to ‘AARP Magazine,’ spoke of a doctoral student at Stanford University, who specializes in Human-Technology-Interaction.

“We (humans) get confused and angry because we don’t know what the ‘GPS’ is “thinking,” David Miller says.

This author (yours truly), however, is and has been guilty of that particular type of behavior. I can remember keying in a direction (when that wasn’t satisfactory, I tried to engage the voice command option), the damned thing told me; directed me to take a highway and exit… I followed suit. When I realized the directions where totally wrong – the accursed voice put us on “The Highway To Hell!”
We traveled sixty miles outside and away from our planned “Pocono Mountain” destination.

Well, I’m here to tell you, I momentarily (Oh, like so many) became insane and started screaming at the voice inside of the ‘GPS system.’ Miller went on to say, “In the future, when your GPS gives you directions, it may give you a rationale, so that you will have a better two-way relationship.”

Yeah, right. I’m happy when and if the thing gets me to my unfamiliar destination(s)…via the correct route! I don’t mean to be to hard on the device…it’s a pretty good little tool when it works as expected.

“A Bite Of The Apple” addressed the ‘IT’ community on big issues concerning Apple’s stance on “covert and proprietary practices” in the world of technology; hardware and software – particularly its hardware products. Apple’s ‘IT’ decision makers espouses an ergonomic flaw which reveals a preference, They’ve said “Apple-like” form over function, i.e., the iMAC connectors on the rear of their machines are designed and/or decided by anal retention.
Their ‘IT’ management team describes one possible meaning of “Anal Retention.” “It’s a point on a curve at which the curvature changes from convex to concave or vice-versa. It can also be called a “Flex Point” or “Point of Inflection.” Apple management says its proprietary devices are putting more effect into business user marketing. Apples’ devices are making their way into the enterprise arena because ‘IT’ managers, not users, like them.

The ‘end-user’ report stresses the fact, suggesting the product(s) being as good and excellent on ease of use, design, and reliability. Does anyone recall the definition of cloning?

Many of us have PC’s in our homes today. And there are many others who feel they are, and believe they are a step ahead while utilizing home-robots like “Alexa” or IBM’S “Watson” and a myriad of cloned devices that clean, monitor, and coordinate their daily lives or lifestyles.

Where’s your cell phone?

It used to be the desk-top computer that was the central ‘Internet’ connection. Then it was the ‘Laptop.’ The “Tablet” continues to be popular these days, but the “Smart-Phone” outshines them all. All one has to do is simply look around… Look and see how many people are walking, running, riding, driving, and flying…dependent upon those continually unrelinquishing devices to sustain them in their existence, and their very lives on this planet.

Not long ago, a vicious computer virus wrestled control from some 400,00 computers across more than 160 countries in one of the worst international cyber attacks and computer infections.
The virus blocked all access to programs, files, mainframes, and networks unless the computer’s owner(s) paid a ransom. The elicitable funds could only be paid via “Bitcoin.”
Bitcoin is online currency that is almost impossible to trace. The Bitcoin currency is traded for the purchase of a “Ransome Key.” Often, victims have paid the money only to not get the key to unlock their computers (or) systems, losing both their money and their data.
This incident should serve as a major wake-up call to users with the much encouraged “must-do” procedure(s) on PCs and Internet devices in their care or usage and the prevention of viruses, botnets, web-crawlers, malware, worms, etc.

I certainly agree with Doug Shadel, of “Outsmart Fraud – AARP Magazine,” in suggesting that users/owners regularly backup your important files to an external drive or remote storage service; have a pop-up blocker running on your web browser at all times; instantly leave websites you’ve been routed to without your consent; use a reputable antivirus program – keeping it updated at all times; make sure your software (and anti-virus software) is up to date; don’t click on links or open attachments from email addresses you don’t know; and buy only legitimate software – and register it.

Do you remember the scene in the movie “Star Wars,” where the bar-tender shouts at ‘Luke Skywalker’ to get his droids out of his establishment?
That scene is a result of human prejudices against machines or robot-kind. Detroit, Michigan’s automobile industry and workforce is all but totally manned by robots (or robotics). Robots are doing major operations on humans and animals alike. Robots are preparing foods, packing and shipping items, driving cars, and diagnosing human ailments and diseases. Robots are answering telephones and redirecting calls. Robots are calling you on your telephones, reminding you of past due bills, appointments, prescription pick-ups, and making attempts at selling you goods and other services. Robots are building bridges, buildings, and homes. Robots are doing just about anything and everything a human or animal can and has been doing. Ask yourself…how many jobs have been lost and are being lost to robots?

“Many companies are using sentiment analysis to gauge the mood(s) on social networks and/or the web…but getting insight takes new tactics and skills,” said Doug Henschen of ‘Techweb.’

“It definitely takes new tactics and skill-sets in order to acquire a position in the new world of IT, BI, Communications, and Analytics.” This conclusion is postulated via the published article, “Destruction and Creation – A New Jobs Hyperbole.” No one can deny the massive and major changes that have occurred in the ‘New World Economy’ of this century. What’s going to happen in the centuries to come – will we be “Star-Trek-Like?” How about a world and future like that of “Logan’s Run?” Will robots become the new judges, lawyers, congressional appointees, senators, or president? Those of us who are aware, interested, and/or motivated in or toward the continuation of mankind’s reign over machines, must become the master of both sides of IT/BI.

AI: Artificial Intelligence…is in contrast to the natural (Human/Animal-like) intelligence…the ability of a computer or robot doing what is normally or commonly done by humans or animals – with intelligence or intelligent abilities…the ability to think.

How long will it be before humans (man-kind) are completely out-thought by “AI” – becoming completely and utterly our replacements as opposed to being our once-upon-a-time servants?

“How Long? Not Long!”

 

Now, doesn’t this argument make you wonder…

“Which Came First, The Chicken Or The Egg?”

 

“AI”…of Human-kind?

 

 

Til Next Time…

 

 

‘G’

https://www.academia.edu/36482756/_AI_…Of_Humankind_

 

 

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*/

 

#Technology #IT #BI #Robots #AI #BBC #BBCNews #BoulwareBooks #Books #IndieBound #TheReadingList #HBCU #PhillyTrib #PhillyNews #HarlemBookFair #eReaders #IoT #Software #Hardware #DataSource #DataBase #ComputerWorld #Oracle #WebSiteMagazine #Wired #Networks #Networking #BoulwarePublications #BlackAuthors #Books #IndieBound #TheReadingList #BookLovers #BookClub #BookZiny #TheBookShop #ByTheBook #BookMarketing #BookSeller #SelfHelp #BoulwareBooks #ReadWrite

 

 

 

 

 

Sci Fi Photos Courtesy of:
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and
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ISBN:9781491086278

IndieBound

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/content/332195/willis-samuel-investigations-the-series

‘Willis Samuel Investigations, The Series’

(Pt.1)

~ “A Four Cornered Phling” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
https://boulwareenterprises.wordpress.com/2018/03/23/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…”

*

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.

*

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.

*

“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.”

https://www.amazon.com.au/Mask-Crime-Czar-V-J-Miller-ebook/dp/B006E4K02O

*

“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:
https://www.amazon.com/Fairmount-Terror-Gregory-V-Boulware-ebook/dp/B076G976LX/ref=la_B00OI16PDI_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1521677579&sr=1-2

*

“When There’s No More Room In Hell”

The Dead Shall Walk The Earth!
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 – P.O.W.’s) 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

>

Fans of Detective Stories! Fans of Murder Mystery’s and Adventures…Check It Out!

Its Advantageous To Your Keen Sense of Predominance…who lives and who dies!

“We Can Make You A Deal You Cannot Refuse!”

G’wan, Pick UP A Copy…Read The Series, You Won’t Regret It.

And We Would Have No Need To Pay You A Visit, Would We?”

Coming At ChA!

 

‘G’
“Twitter”
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~“FAIRMOUNT” – The Series~
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>

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Next: “The AR-15 Incident”

 

 

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~ “The Fall of Light” ~

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=327765&cid=10

“Another monster boom sounded just around the corner on ‘Walnut Lane.’ The instant flash and boom on the street took out another building. A twin house on the odd numbered side of the street was suddenly and instantaneously gone. Loud noises under the street and greenish glowing lights appeared as the crowds rushed for their homes!”

 

~’When The Light Fell Down’~

 

“What the fuck was that?”

“I dunno…it’s pretty damned dark out there.”

“Shit man, a big ass bump like that had to be felt for a few blocks around!”

“…Feel anything else?”

“Nah…it was probably some big ass truck or something.”

Aw right, turn the radio up, the Halloween shows are about to start.” The doorbell rang. It was
one of those chime-like doorbell ringers. It had a firm but soft tone.

“Damn kids – pain in the ass…where’s the candy?”

“Ho Dude! Listen! It’s Orson Welles! It’s one of his old radio shows – hurry up! Get me a cassette tape, quick!”

Rushing through the house with a cassette tape in hand, Russell fell over the ottoman sitting near the dining room threshold between there and the kitchen. He managed to get the tape into the recording machine just as the announcer introduced Orson Welles’ Halloween play.

Andre picked up his hot cup of java and prepared to drop a bit of whiskey in it. From the corner of his right eye he thought he’d seen a flash of light. He was reassured by another flash of falling light. This one more prominent that the other. The first one seemed to be a little ways down the road – over on ‘Haines Street.’ The second one seemed to fall a bit closer. It fell with an Earth-shattering boom…right smack in the middle of ‘High Street’ and ‘Baynton Street.’ The neighbors were all running around the corner to see what they thought was a terrible car crash. It wasn’t. It was the apartment building which sat on the northwest corner. The building was gone. What took its place was a monstrous sized gaping hole. The hole almost appeared bottomless at first. Then the rush of creek water sprouted from below. Rumor has it that the majority of this ‘Germantown’ area stood over bedrock and heavily flowing creek-water. The water was much deeper than the basements of houses built above.

Andre and Russell ran out of the house on East Walnut Lane. They ran along with many other neighbors, turning the corner at ‘Baynton St.’ They were all joined with other neighbors who came running in from other directions. Not one of them could believe what their eyes beheld. Inside of the gaping hole of approximately 80 ft. deep with a circumference twice that size, rested the engine of an airplane…a ‘747’ class or such.

Someone from the crowd of on-lookers shouted in a panicked voice…”Look At That!”

All heads and eyes turned to see. We all looked up into the night-time sky only to see the smoking, burning jet-liner; the owner of the mechanism residing within the pit that fell from the darkness. Its cabin lights were all aglow as were the flames licking along its fuselage on the port side wing where once an engine was attached.

The nose-diving air-bus assured all who witnessed the impending and tragic doom of all who sat within. However, to the chagrin of its pursuer, the unexpected skillful and heroic effort on the part of the vehicle’s pilots, in escaping a perilous end. Turning and spinning out of a death defying nose-dive, the airplane banked leftward up into the moonless starfilled sky. A Greenish-blue-white light skirted along the edge of the airplane’s tail section. The great and powerfull all consuming brilliance of the strange light lit up the nighttime sky, nearly blinding all who gazed upon it.

From the corner of our eyes, another startling shimer grabbed everyone’s attention. Within a milimeter of a second, the brightened sky returned to its natural state. That same glance captured another burst of greenish-blue-white light eminating from ground to air. This burst of light proved fatal indeed. This powerbeam of light completely engulfed the airbus. It first appeared as if the airplane was surrounded, encircled within the greenish-blue-white ball of light when suddenly, without an explosion or booming sound, the vehicle simply dissapeared in a flash. The aftermath was a puff of smoke and dust trapped within the light trail which fell back onto the plane’s pursuer indeed… The only sound or noise, if you will; it made, was a crackling-lightning-like streak as it flashed about. The deadly light fell back. It’s trail returning to the owner; back to the eye-beam 0f glassened-multi-paned-plastic-like lenses that sat inside a metalic-like globe. This globe was attached at the middle, to a life-like pole that moved not unlike an ‘Ostrich’ or ‘Giraffe’s’ looping rubber-like neck. It was monstrously elongated and yet flexible. The long neck was attached to what appeared to be a floating nuclear sub-marine with the same plastic-looking, glass-like lenses embedded in both ends of the floating vessell.

“Did I say floating?”

“Oh hell yeah I did!”

“I’m talking into the microphone of the same tape recorder in which I kept my old ‘Orson Welles’ tape. I recorded the “War of the Worlds” on this recorder and was going to make another copy with this blank the inside. Since I recorded the show years back, I thought with today’s technology, the broadcast would be upgraded, hence, another copy of the halloween show via the radio. Besides, it was plain ole fun just sittin around the radio with a bunch of hot dogs, sausages, pop-corn, soda, a few brews, a belt of booze to top it all off, and your “homeys” to show off for of course. If we had a little weed, that would work too.

Yo, my name is ‘Russell Creed,’ and my homey is ‘Andre (Stevie) Stevens.’ The halloween show was just about to start when all hell broke loose!

We were just hangin out at my brother’s house, me and Dre., some call him ‘Stevie.’ ‘G’ was out of town for a few and asked me to look in on the crib to make sure everything’s okay. He didn’t know I was with my boys’ when I stopped in to chill-out. That’s when all this shit started… I’d like to be the one who tells you all about what’s happenin…but I think the narrator/interpreter can do a better job. I say this because I don’t think we’re going to survive this invasion. And it ain’t a damned thing me, you, or the damned government can do about it.

Dre., was it something you wanted to add?”

“Damn Man, for some weirdly odd reason, I thought of my diner left to get cold on the kitchen table… I forgot that I was hungry! The dark night had become brighter than the brightest day. It was white-hot, light without heat…but yet, it was hot!”

The enormous shadowy cylinder was fully exposed at the dusk of brilliant light. It stomped and stormed its massive metalic yet glass or plastic-like smooth frame into full view.

The horrifying vessell certainly did float. The military people have determined that these machines were utilizing some sort of magnetic repulsion or anti-gravity devices in order to move along without tracks or wheels…they certainly were not flying.

At this point, we could see only one of them. There were actually three. When it became possible to completely see these murderers…killers of innocence; the thing which first became visible was that of the heart-stopping variety. A shinning, shimmering, clanking, clunking, cluttering, abhorition of metalic horror came clumbering up ‘Walnut Lane’ from ‘Germantown Avenue.’ We could all see this from ‘Baynton St.’ The monster machine stood as tall as ‘Billy Penn’ atop City-Hall in ‘Philly’s Downtown’ area, hat and all!

The top of this alien monster machine appeared to be that of a walking military helicopter without the blades that make it fly. It had a very large basket-like attachment located on its undercarriage. This thing stood and walked upon three crab or spider-like legs. Three tentacles or limbs with six pincer-like grabbers or fingers pertruded. One could easily guess at what they were being used for.

The sidewalk began to crackle and break. The separation caused by the split right down the center of Baynton Street encouraged the crowds to disperse and run for shelter and home. The safety of their families was of extreme paramount.

Another monster boom sounded just around the corner on ‘Walnut Lane.’ The instant flash and boom on the street took out another building. A twin house on the odd numbered side of the street was suddenly and instantaneously gone. Loud noises under the street and greenish glowing lights appeared as the crowds rushed for their homes. The booming became regular. They exploded all around the neighborhood. Parked cars became airborne flying objects of mass destruction. They flew back to Earth as two ton bombs of metal and shrapnel, crushing other cars and several people in the meshing mess. Jet planes flew overhead as police sirens screamed all around. The police cars did not stop in to check on the people, they were fleeing the area enmass.

Immediatly upon seeing the alien machines, to the horror and sadness of all; a father and his three children ran down ‘Germantown Avenue.’ They vanished as one of the flying multi-toned trash collection trucks descended upon them. Overhead clouds formed and caused the night-time blackness to take on the appearance of a day-time sky… The booming thunder, thumping-metal-grinding walking machines, flashing-burning white to blue-green rays, and falling lights burned to ashes anyone and anything it touched…

The towering walking machine was flanked by the three smaller floating ones. Two were positioned to its left-rear, the other its right, while the third served as point. They all moved in a way which complimented one another. They moved almost in a uniformed manner. The movement was a difined and planned march. It played out as if it had been a tried and true manuever.

All four monsters came into full view. Buildings, our homes seemed to disintegrate right before our very eyes as they moved over the dusty rubble toward us.

>

“You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said.

For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I daresay he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were rather large, pale-blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me.

“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord!” When the men shall call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them – hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!”

I began to understand the position. I ceased my labored reasoning, struggled to my feet, and standing over him, laid my hand on his shoulder.
“Be a man!” said I, “You are scared out your wits! What good is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent.”
For a time he sat in blank silence.
“But how can we escape?” he asked, suddenly. “They are invulnerable, they are pitiless.”
“Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other,” I answered. “And the mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them was killed yonder not three hours ago.”
“Killed1” he said, staring about him. “How can God’s ministers be killed?”
“I saw it happen.” I proceeded to tell him. “We have chanced to come in for the thick of it,” said I, “and that is all.”
“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked abruptly.
I told him it was the heliograph signaling – that it was the sign of human help and effort in the sky.
“We are in the midst of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it, are the Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and Kingston and the trees give cover, Earthworks are being thrown up and guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way again.”

And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a gesture.
“Listen!” he said.
From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. A cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendor of the sunset.

“We had better follow this path,” I said, “northward.”

Gene Barry was the starring hero from the classic ‘War of The Worlds’ by Herbert George Wells back in the sixties when I was a little boy. The bombs screamed across the big screen at the ‘Lehigh Movie Theatre’ on Lehigh Avenue between twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth Streets in North Philadelphia. My two younger brothers, two of the girls who lived next door on Myrtlewood Street; and me were shuttled off by our mothers that early Saturday evening. The ladies had plans of their own. We were shipped out to the movies. Man what a treat. Albeit we were all scared to death, afraid to leave the theatre on many other monster treated and frightful afternoons. I can remember running home, fearing the crossing of darkened alleyways along the route to the safe haven of the domicile. Vampires, Frankenstein’s Monster, Zombies, and Werewolves threatened to jump out and get us if we doddle and lagged behind.

The story, ‘War of the Worlds’ in the novel format takes the reader on a journey during the turn of the twentieth century in Britain. The Americanized movie version has it placed in Las Angeles with shots and scenes from around the globe.

The visionary Martian vessels were described as in the novel. They glowed the green lights and eerie screwing sounds of a mason jar unscrewing. The laser beam of instantaneous destruction managed to destroy and kill any and every living and non-living thing on the planet and in its path. The shadowy white dusty froth laden forms of human beings lay on the grounds and roadways of the countryside exit trails, hopefully leading to safety, played out in the book did make its ghostly presence on the big screen and in the book as well.

The movie version with Mr. Gene (Bat Masterson) Barry remains a classic; the traverse through the countryside of England uncovers a journey of epic endeavor, adventure, and excitement beyond the movie theatre.
“When Earth comes under siege from extraterrestrial invaders, the best and worst of mankind comes out among those struggling to survive.”

Mr. Wells was born in Bromley, Kent on September 21, 1866. He was called ‘Bertie’ by his family. His father was a shopkeeper who was previously a cricketer. After the business failed, his mother was forced to work as a domestic in the nearby country house of ‘Up-Park.’ She desired to return the family back to the middle-class status it had briefly enjoyed. Wells worked as a schoolteacher and a pharmacist. He also studied biology under Thomas Henry Huxley, a vociferous proponent of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. This gentleman made an extraordinary impression on him so much so that he returned to teaching completing his course studies and earned his degree. Wells went on with his mastery of the imagination and produced more thought provoking science fiction works in novel format and magazine periodicals as well as a couple of biology textbooks while working for the University Correspondence College.

“Herbert G. Wells published his first novel, The Time Machine to critical and popular acclaim in 1895. He became one of the most prolific writers of his generation. Mr. Wells has explored a vast variety of social, philosophical, and political I thoughts and ideas via the medium of what is described as science fiction.”

What happens when you wake up from a dream, a deeply remembered dream? You then realize that it was simply a dream… Time moves forward into your waking day when suddenly, the day is all that has previously transpired in your dream. Your dream has become your reality. So, which is which, the dream or the perceived reality?

 

…Can Anyone Decide Which Is True Or Which Is Not?

>

 

~”They Came In Three’s”~

 

Albeit, the eye-like beams spit forth a deadly white light of destruction. The lights also appeared to be of a green, red, and blue color; a blend of different colors. No one stopped to wonder why the death-dealing machines shined three of four different yet distinct colors. Everyone simply ran.

We all ran in many different directions…away from the approaching invaders. Petty neighborhood squabbles were long forgotten with this new threat, a threat that brought about an eerie uniting of the people. There was little need to call upon the Black Folks for a meeting. There was little need to call for a rally or a boycott…all we wanted to do now was live…”By Any Means Necessary!”

‘Dre’ and I thought we’d have a chance to get back to the house…no way. The machines were nearing the corner of Baynton Street now. The surviving buildings along the block were engulfed in flames and smoke. Hope for them was an impossibility.

The uphill run on Walnut Lane to Morton Street was always a challenging hike on any given day. However, on this night, it was a push over. The reality was that nothing or no one was going to impeed the progress of life-saving escape. The analogy of people turning into savages rang true as every one seemed to run over any one who could not keep up or get out of the way of the stampeding horde.

Any parked cars along the way were very lucky at getting out. It was highly improbable that the escapees would have had time to pack a bag. The thought occured when I noticed the absence of vehicles on the street that would normally be jockying for a parking spot. Thirst crept into my throat, taking away all the aforementioned thoughts that occupied my mind while running away from certain death. I peered briefly back over my right shoulder. To take a longer look could cause one to miss a step and fall down. A half-a-second was all I needed…it was all that it took to see the horrific, spine tingling, and blood curdling events unfolding behind us. It’s been said that the eye works just like a camera. The eye-lid works the same way as that of a lense shutter on any given image capturing device. It only took a split second to see the multi-colored death ray zapping people…first they freeze in their tracks, then the human body glows to a greenish-blue aura, revealing the skeletinal inner frame of the person being zapped…then the body vanishes; disappears! The proverbial description of “Crabs In a Barrell” was the order of the day. One dared not look back too long. We all kept on running.

We ran until we could run no more. We found ourselves walking briskly along with many people near the intersection of ‘Chew Avenue and Washington Lane.’ We didn’t know many of the folks whom who accompanied us on this newly found trek away from the Walnut Lane area. As everyone seemed to be migrating toward the train station just past Chew Avenue, there were hundreds more running from Upsal Street to our location. If people were attempting to board the SEPTA Trains, how many had money to pay, if they bothered to stop at the station? It had to be well past two in the morning by this time. We didn’t think about time with all this madness going on. But with time to stop and think for a moment, things of importance began to factor in. We had no food. We had no water. We had no transportation or communication. Another thought occured to me…remembering a conversation with the fellas at Gerry’s House, our place of catharsis after a long days work. We argued about what would or could happen if our country ever had to deal with an invasion. Remembering what happened with the “911 Tragedy” and the storms and hurricanes which devistated the southern regions, we all agreed on what would probably happen. If an invading force knocked out communication, transportation, and utility services, a country could fall victim to the invading entity. As I looked around, weighing our circumstances, the reality of our thesis has come to pass.

Some one in the crowd loudly stated that the lot across the street is a city emergency center. From my vantage point in the middle of Washington Lane, I could see the big white city trash collection vehicles parked within. The large lot held several other city vehicles as well. This location is a major City Trash Recycling and Transfer Station. It can accommodate a very large amount of people. The only question is, how can this facility take care of all these people who are in need of food, water, waste disposal, and many other needs. I saw women with young children and babies… The elderly were here along with the sick and injured. What could anyone do to take care of all these folks? The void of darkness was momentarily avoided for some with the use of flashlights, LED lights from the nearby train station, the low luster of the overhead city street-lighting, and the dying cell phones of many who had them; mostly the young.

People were sobbing and crying. The heartbreaking sounds of young children and babies crying really got to me. In the distance, you could hear the rumbling of the machines as they grew near. The white-greenish-blue-yellow-red lights glowed over the tops of trees and buildings along the Washington Lane corridor. Some people began to kneel and pray. Others watched with faces of stone-cold fear, eyes wide open; big like saucers. Many had the look of death on their faces. It’s a look that many meat workers have seen on the faces and in the eyes of the doomed cattle and other livestock caught in the shuttled chute of death. It’s the look, some say, of knowing that it’s your time to die.
Some of the so-called hard-core tough guys refused to show their fear because they were the intimidators of many, they packed weapons. They boasted of the ‘9mm’s, Glocks, and other hand-held weapons. These were the guys who could not afford to show fear or any sign of being a punk, reputation is all that mattered. The truth is, they were as afraid as everyone else. They held no power here. They had no one to sell their dope to…there was no one to intimidate. Their eyes gave them away… The machines got closer and closer…there was no where to go, no where to run…all hope is gone.

In the distance…one could almost hear it. A siren! A police siren! was it the siren of a fire-engine? Who cares…as long as they are coming to help them. The flood-lights of the facility were turned on as well. A city worker who lived nearby had access to the lot. It was he who had turned on the power. The people cheered loudly and joyfully. They rushed into the lot in hopes of gaining access to water and toilet accommodations. The sirens of the distance had arrived. They encountered difficulty in getting into the facility due to the masses of people crowding all over. The police car had to slowly nudge its way into the yard because people simply would not move. The space occupied by the masses was limited. The parked trucks and other vehicles needed to be moved in order for all to fit into the sheltered area. More sirens were heard in the distance. They were headed toward the Washington Lane Transfer Station too.

Along with the arrival of more police, the National Guard managed to get there as well. They were stationed at a nearby base located near Broad Street and Olney Avenue, just down the street from ‘Central High School.’ The trucks were loaded with water, milk, and food. They also stocked supplies for the elderly, sick, nursing mothers, and babies. The people were relieved. They praised their rescuers and thanked God. Seeing all this newly arriving help, the people began to gather themselves while regaining their composure.
The second police car turned into the driveway as the people managed to get out of the way. Then the first truck was able to pass into the waiting yard. The people’s cheering grew louder. The second truck began to turn into the drive when suddenly, it appeared as though the truck had set itself on fire…the ear-defeaning explosion sounded a split-second after the vehicle was alighted. Eerie sounding whistling was heard when the night-time became brightened with the brilliance of the alien invader’s killer ray beams. It seemed as if everything began to explode all around us!
The police could do nothing with this surprise attack. The national guard were helpless as well. The ones who escaped the exploded vehicles ducked for cover like everyone else. The problem is, there was no cover to be had. People, young and old, police, and guardsmen alike, died. They were alighted, alluminated til you could see there skeletal bones, and burned into invisibility.
Three floating vessels descended upon us from what seemed like every direction. The death ray beams screamed as they evaporated dozens upon dozens of innocent and the not so innocent into oblivion. I managed to grab ‘Dre’ just as he was about to go down. The man next to him had been zapped into dust just like the one on the other side of him. Another was zapped just as I pulled ‘Dre’ to me. We once again found ourselves running away from certain death.
screaming and crying people dashed all about. People were being trampled to death while trying to escape the death-dealing machines. Me and Dre got down on our hands and knees and began to crawl away, under and over bodies that had not been zapped but killed by the maddened, frightened crowd of “chickens in a barrel!”
Somehow, we managed to crawl our way back out into the middle of Washington Lane and across the street into the parking lot along side the train station. A train zoomed into the station as people attempted to stop the speeding behemoth of shining shimmering mass of metal. Unfortunately, those that attempted could not bring the track dependent vehicle to a stop. They all died in their folly.
The speeding train not only did not stop, it was burning inside. The vehicle was fully engulfed in flames as the riders inside were heard screaming when it passed. A second train followed inside of fifteen minutes after the aforementioned death-ride. It too was fully engulfed in flames as it sped past us on the platform.

The invading death machines drew closer as we rolled over into the tracks after the burning train has passed. I pushed Dre further down the tracks and under the dark dirty muddy platform. I really didn’t expect him to complain when he started to whine and cuss.

“Shut up fool…I’m trying to save both our lives!”

The death machines zapped all and any that it could find and/or see. One could only assume that the machines had annilhilated everyone due to the eerie quiet that followed the zapping noises. We could hear the familiar clanking, clunking, grinding, and stomping noise as the floating marauders floated off in search of new targets.
Miraculously, some of the people did survive the attack just outside of this station. It seems that everyone in the neigborhood didn’t come out of their homes because they weren’t all destroyed.
The sky-scrapper building tall spider-walking machine was still on location. It did something that we, Dre and I, were not aware of. All who were not killed in the attack of the three floating killer machines, were left behind for the walker-machine to pick up. Skullking along, it had these elongated octopuss-like feeler arms that reached out and grabbed people who were reeling from the attack of the floaters. These feeler-arms reached out and grabbed the stragglers, lifting them up high, and placing them in a basket-like recepticle or retainer. We could see this all happening from the cracks and splits under the train platform. We could see all of the activity on the Washington Lane and Chew Avenue intersection. Unfortunately, there were still a lot of people left to be had by the invaders from I don’t know where.

We could hear the captured people screaming from above. The walker-machine rumbled as it moved, gathering up people who ran in any direction that seemed safe. Dre and I stayed put under the platform. When the walker-machine crashed and crumpled its way over and through the surrounding buildings and gas station, it walked over the train station twice, as though it were looking for us. The platform came crashing down on us. We were pinned under the wood, metal, plastic, and other materials of the construction. Somehow, the machine did not find us. It lumbered on through the woodlands surrounding the Washington Lane vacinity. The group of death dealers appeared to be headed for the Stenton Avenue neighborhoods.

Dre and I managed to free ourselves and crawl out from beneath the destroyed platform rubble. We were more thirsty than before. Our throats felt as it we’d swallowed concrete from all of the dust floating in the air. The dusty surroundings were like that of a bombed out war zone…like New York, the day the planes flew into the ‘Twin Towers.’ We looked like the people on television who all looked like walking zombies, covered in concrete, plaster, and dust from all of the destruction. We had no idea of what we were going to do. Upon gazing all about, we decided to go back across the street and see if we could dig up some water from the bombed out trucks.
Fortunately, we were succesful in attaining some unscathed bottles of water and scattered bits and pieces of food packages. We gorged ourselves on our new found delicacy. With cleared thoughts and a real sense of awareness for danger, we decided to make our way back to Walnut Lane in hopes of recovering something we could use to aid in our survival. Obviously, the new found fortune most certainly would not be enough to sustain us for God knows how long, in this vast wilderness. The first thing we had to do, after eating, is to rest up a bit. There’s no way we were going to get any sleep. Sleep? Where would we, could we, go to get a good nights sleep? Sleep would certainly be an impossibility this horrible night.

The Sun was crossing the horizon when we awoke. I haven’t a clue as to how we managed to sleep through all the carnage surrounding us during the night. Opening my eyes to a new day, it seems as though all this was simply a dream, a strange nightmare of sorts. My vision began to focus. Hell no. It was no fucking dream.
Reaching out to my right, I shook Dre awake. He jumped up in one hell of a fright…”What the fuck is going on Russell? Where in the fuck are we Man? Where in the hell is everybody? Why are we lying under all this nasty shit?” “Ouch, shit!”
After bumping his head, Dre’s memory, the reality of it all, returned and made him understand.

We crawled out from under the debris of the train station, and made our way back towards home. We stood and saw it all, a vast and sprawling nothing. Everything had been laid to waste. As far as the eye could see, there was utter and complete nothingness. There were several dead bodies lying about. They were probably the ones who didn’t get or caught by the dangling octopus tenticles of the walking machines. Off in the distance, we could see a few of the walkers over in the direction of ‘Chelten Avenue.’ When we turned to look northward, in the direction of ‘Mt. Airy,’ we saw two of them walking about and continuing to reap in an unwary soul. The gaze east caught the eerie dust cloud of the ones that blew through here last night. We focused our gaze westward, up to the crest of the hill on Washington Lane, at ‘Musgrave Street.’ We saw only dust clouds from the destruction of homes and other buildings. Automobiles burned under the rubble as well. Gas-mains burned continually. Electric wires sparked and danced in every direction while they lay undaunted upon the blacktop roadways covered in ashe, burning wood, and other exposed building materials.

Dre and I walked up the hill on ‘Belfield Avenue’ past ‘Tulpehocken Street’ to the east side of ‘Walnut Lane.’ Pushing onward, up the hill of the lane, we finally arrived at the top, ‘Morton Street.’ Crossing Morton, the hill descended into the ‘Germantown Avenue’ corridor right after ‘Baynton Steet’ and the unit block of Walnut Lane; home.

 

~”Where Is Everybody?”~

 

Every house on Walnut Lane was demolished. Our place was no exception. However, the house didn’t collapse into the cellar. The windows of the basement suggeste that we could get in via that window or the back door. All of the rubble from the collapsed buildings seemed to fall outward into the street and surroundings, not inward onto themselves.
If we could get in and recover as much of the essentials needed, the better. Food and water was at the top of the list. We could see that there was no way to gain entry into the kitchen because the debris piled directly down onto the concrete foundation of the structure. Making our way around back, to the back door of the basement, we were relieved to find the door and frame still intact. We were able to gain entrance into the basement if nowhere else in the premises.
After our entry, we were absolutley correct in our assumption, we could not reach anywhere else, to our dismay. I remembered the meal we planned on the night of the invasion. It was laid out perfectly. A meal made to order…

Knowing that we could not regain the groceries stocked in the refrigerator. We rumbbled around underneath the destroyed house to see what we could gather. A couple of flashlights were still on the shelf from when we worked on the hotwater heater not long ago. There were also flares and buckets of citronila that could be lit at night…as there would probably be no lighting fixtures about. We could shoot a game of pool, the pool-table was still intact. Most of the things in stored in the basement were useless for our survival in this new found frontier, a new wilderness.

While we walked back to the house, Dre had a suggestion to stop in and see what we could get from the bombed-out corner grocery stores. There were a few of them around the neighborhood. There was a “stop-n-go” at the corner of Washington Lane and Chew, another at Tulpehockon and Morton, at Walnut Lane and Baynton, and many more all around the area to be had.

“Dre, don’t you think that I’d thought about that possibility. What about survivors, Bro.?”

“Russell, man, this is a situation that highly suggests that every man is now out for themselves…no one is going to give a damn about me and you.”

“I hear ya Homes, but don’t you remember what we saw on the way back here?”

There were pockets of people who were either completely missed in the attack and/or those who simply crawled out from under piles of destruction debris because they were unaware of what has happened and are now seeking some type of aid, food, water, shelter, and probably live-saving assistance from a medical professional or hospital. The landscape, upon their re-emergence from the pile of train-station rubble, was completely desimated. Survivors who managed to elude or somehow manage to escape death or capture, wandered all about like the zombies we so often laughed at in movies or on television.
I wondered, would we ever see a movie again or be able to watch television shows from our living-rooms, basements,or bed-rooms?

“Dre, the reality is we’ve got to get the hell out of here…and soon. The walking machines will probably be coming back this way and I for one do not want to be here when they do. What about you?”

“Yeah Bro., let’s get the hell out of here…I’ll carry what little we’re taking with us. It’s a damned shame that we can’t get upstairs to the ‘Frige…’ Damn…all that food going to waste.”

Once outside, the two close friends pondered over what direction to take in hopes of locating shelter, sustainance, or other people who could help them. Gazing all around, in every direction, they decided to firts go around to the 14th Police District. Maybe there are some cops there that could offer some sort of guidance. However, from where they were standing, one could see as far as Chelten Avenue without the use of binoculars. The 14th District Headquarters was on the way to that particular location. It, the building, was not there. There were no familiar standing structures to be seen at all. The ‘Town Hall’ building was gone as well as all of the buildings that aligned both sides of Germantown Avenue from the 58th, 59th, 60, and 6100 blocks of the avenue once called the “Great Road.” Everything was laid to waste. Nothing but rubble and debris. Russell and I looked at each other and decided to go and take a look anyway, there might be something there that we could use.

We could see dirt and dust being kicked up by some of the residents who survived the attack. You really had to look closely at thier faces in order to recognize any of the poor wretches who wandered aimlessly about. Several of the neighbors, recognizable and not, were crying and carrying the bodies of dead babies. Others wept over thier elderly and other kin-folk who went missing or had been killed. The hardest thing to witness was the children who now had no one to care for them…thier parents gone and no next of kin to look after them. Russell and I had to keep moving.

We combed meticulously through the rubble at the once standing 14th District building and found a few things…one of the most important items was a radio…a “police ban walkie-talkie!”

The bombed out building of the 14th yeilded a few other goodies as well. One of the first things that caught our attention was the fact that, in spite of just about evrey room of the structure was utterly and completely destroyed, the only room that was still intact was the men’s restroom. This room sat right next to the radio central control room just inside of the main reception area of the building.

“Impressive…the shit-house is the only thing standing in this whole heap of shit!” said Dre.

“I hear ya Homes, when was the last time you took a dump?” asked Russell.

“Yesterday before all this crap came about.”

“Well I’m here to tell ya man, I’m heading for the dump-room right now!”

“Russell, you know that your shit probably won’t go anywhere, the toilets most likely will not flow without water pressure.” Dre warned.

The toilet did flush and the water system supplied enough water for them to fill up bottles and three canteens recovered from the basement of thier house. Albeit, the water system was flowing, the piping was busted at several ends of the building. Water flowed freely from the broken and twisted metal tubing that seemed to stick out from everwhere. This would help many of the straglers who happened to cross this way in search of water.

“Okay Bro., lets do this…” Dre said to Russell.

Russell turned on one of the three ‘walkie-talkies’ and got instant results. The damned thing squelched and squacked until they were able to get a clear enough signal. The voices were all screaming at one another. They held warnings and orders as well. Commanders shouted orders to subordinants while reports of continuing attacks and destruction from the floating machines and that of the walkers.
It seemed that the current attacks were taking place in the North-Central areas of the city. Evacuations were under way for all the areas that haven’t yet been invaded. Directions were given for displaced persons to gather at ‘Philadelphia’s City Hall Courtyard, downtown; and those further south, to make thier way to the sports arenas on “Patterson Avenue.”
The voices were heard to say to responding officers to remain calm and to aid in the calming every person contacted, help is on the way.
The voices continued speaking. They were telling responding officers that the National Guard, and othe major military forces were being deployed and are on the way, if they hadn’t arrived already. The voices said for them to remain calm and in control…”Help Is On The Way!”

 

~”All Points Due South”~

 

All around the place, there was nothing but building debris and the occassional strangely shaped ashe. The ashen forms, me and Dre did see before. We didn’t really pay it any real attention because we were quite busy trying to keep our asses from being zapped and or captured. But the reality of it all was that it was time to face the reality… We became alarmingly aware that those forms of strange shaped dust patterns were the remains of human bodies. We’d seen these forms on the streets and roadways, all the way here and throughout this location as well.
The white ashen forms didn’t portray whether being male or female, ordinary citizen or members of the law enforcement community. They were simply yet horribly the remains of the dead, zapped into powdered forms of dust.
We only saw two or three bodies in blue uniforms, peeking through the cracks and crevices of the rubble that entombed them.
Russell and I ventured outside of the fallen building into the area that was once its’ parking lot. We’d hope to recover a vehicle or two that might provide us transportation. As luck would have it, several vehicles were spared the collapse of the building. However, how were we to get them out from all the other wood, brick, and mortar that was spread far and wide inside and outside of this parking lot and the streets beyond from the other buildings?

Death and dead things were everywhere. The helpless zombified victims walked and milled about, clueless as to what it is they are supposed to do. The voices on the walkie-talkie became more clear once we were outside of the implodded structure. The voices of police and military command barked forth instruction for eveyone in the city to converge on the center city area… It reiterated its’ instructions for those in the far south and west of the city to head toward the sports arena areas. We began to tred southward as we listened in on the radio transmissions.

Dre and I attempted to speak to the voices over the hand-held devices.

“Breaker, Breaker! This is a civilian citizen attempting rescue for folks in the north-west region and close point thereabout… Can you read me? …Over!”

Me and Dre waited for a response to out radio request. The damned thing spit and squawked back an answer.

“No citizens are allowed to transmit over police and military radio bans…get off the airway and contact a designated official at once!” barked the voice.

“Well I’ll be damned…did you hear that shit Dre? Do you believe this asshole? Is he fuckin crazy or what?”

I barked sternly into the mic of the radio device.

“Now you listen here you asshole son of a bitch…we are stranded civilians in need of assistance and immediate evacuation…there aren’t any fuckin officials, they’re all fuckin dead! If you’d like to talk to one of them who happens to be a pile of white dust, I’ll hold the God-damned radio to it so that it can hear you – STUPID! …Over!”

The voice replied, “Sorry son, we’re really all fucked up out here…sorry for your situation. As far as we know, sevreral battalions have been deployed throughout the cities on both sides of the river, Philly and Jersey. We haven’t heard a word from anywhere else at present…if you can, I’d advise you and your party to make your way southward toward center city…that’s were there will be supplies, medical aid, and possible evacuation available. We don’t know anything about what’s going on beyong the Mt. Airy and Chestnut Hill Regions. No news has been received from them at this point. Do the best you can to travel…we’ve been informed that all power, communication, and transportation has been halted and/or destroyed by these unidentified invaders. …See ya when you get here, Son. …Over and Out!”

Walking and stepping over the dead and the walking dead, Dre and I had made it as far as ‘Wister Street and Germantown Avenue,’ while listening to the communication and its’ instructions. We’d somehow seemed to have formed a bit of a gathering, a following horde of lost souls. These poor individuals assumed that we knew where to go and how to get there. Yeah, we were making an attempt to follow the instructions of the radio voice, but reluctantly. The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up…I suddenly got a sense of the ‘willies.’ Dre could tell that I was feeling a bit uneasy with the trek south and the horde of wayward, wandering followers who have made chosen to make them point guards for the homeless. We continued to lead the way southward, straight down the avenue.

Nearing ‘Hunting Park Avenue,’ just beyond ‘Wayne-Junction Train Station,’ the air was suddenly filled with the scream of fighter jets and Blackhawk Helicopters. They appeared to be converging on the ‘Broad Street and Erie Avenue’ vacinity. We could here sirens in the distance as well. How the cops were getting around was a mystery within itself, we were lead to believe all the roadways throughout the region were covered and blocked with collapsed buildings and other material. Suddenly an alarm sounded. It was like an alarm that we haven’t heard in years… It was one of those civil defense alarms, like the ones we used to hear in grade school…like the ones our parents used to talk about durin a black-out during the war.
We could hear explosions and gunfire in the distance too. A greenish-blue-white haze appeared on the horizon heading south. Visibility wasn’t all that bad when an occassional clearing happened as the wind blew. We could see straight across the hilly region from where we were standing, near what used to be the post office on the south side of Hunting Park Avenue. A rather large Baptist Church used to stand on the other side of the street also.

Hunting Park Avenue at Germantown Avenue was suddenly filled with the sound of warfare. From somewhere over the crest of the hill, one of the floating machines appeared. It seemed to come from right out of the ground…from the bigh hole in the street that used to be occupied by the “Simon Gratz High School!” It was of course, gone. Then another one appeared right behind the first one. It seemed to be riding on its coat-tail, in a tandem sort of fashion. A third one appeared right after the second vessel. It too was floating in tandem as the yellowish-green glow of its center eye; atop the long-necked attachment to a boomeranged-shaped floating body of shiny chromed metal with two greenish-blue death ray beams at either end; began to shoot forth its zapping light-rays. The target was anything moving…anything and anything in sight!

 

~’Farmland, A Skippack Retreat?’~

 

…Washington’s retreat to “Skippack Farms!”

I remember reading about that in a book or story written by a Philadelphia writer originally from “Germantown.” Then I thought of a TV-Show, a series, about a bunch of zombies on the attack for fresh human flesh to eat. And then I thought to myself, why the fuck am I thinking about that shit when my life, our lives are in deep jeopardy in the present? In one of the bags we took from the police station, was a pair of binoculars. I took a closer look towards the Broad and Erie area, to my fright, I gathered up our supplies and grabbed Dre by the arm and shouted, “Come on Man, we’ve got to get the hell out of here…all of you people need to run and run fast…GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE NOW! GO BACK THE OTHER WAY!”

Now I knew why I remembered that television show about the zombies; the call was to make your way to a so-called central zone to be safe and rescued from danger. Bullshit…I wasn’t about to go to one “Hot-LZ” for another because some friendly voice was telling me too. We were turning around and heading back north…to hell with the going south.

The floating machines rose up out of that hole like demons from hell. The first one floated up and its’ yellow-glowing eye attached to an elongated neck scanned the area. The fiendish noise yeilded an echoish sound effect that reverberated throughout the immediate listening area. It actaully had the ability to drive one utterly mad…to a level of pure fright and insanity. The thing floated and scanned. It floated and scanned…and then began firing its’ death rays. The beastly metalic thing fired on any and everything in sight. It didn’t need to see its victims. It seemed to be able to sense their presence within the structures being fired upon. It’s also quite possible that the damned things were firing on the buildings simply because they existed.
As the invader continued its firing, another rose up out that hole from hell, right behind the first one. It too began firing at random. And then, a third joined thier ranks and began firing all about. The three of them were at first floating in tandom. They floated out from behind one another and seemed to touch or join the tips of their vessels, three in a row. Then they changed positions again with one in the lead as the remaining two floated just behind on either flank.

We didn’t wait for them to catch up with us. We ran straight back up Germantown Avenue. While we hustled along, the damned thought occured once again. The story from our local author, regarding “George Washington’s Retreat” from Philly to the “Skippack Farms” area in Montgomery County. The neighborhood was already desimated, so why would the machines want to return to our neck of the woods?
Running and jumping over dead bodies and dusty remains of human beings that have been zapped, we were making good time heading up “The Great Road.” The people who began to follow us to the south, followed us again toward regions north. Behind us, the war was fully engulfed. America’s War Machines were pitted against theirs in what appeared to be hosting a campaign of futile endeavor. They were quite simply getting their bloody asses kicked!
The cannons, tanks, and other fire-power of the local ‘National Guard’ and the cops, were not hitting their targets. The explosives seemed to be exploding all around them…a dome, a blister, a bubble, if you will, appeared at almost every blast or explosion surrounding the floating machines. They simply returned fire at just about every defender in sight. The death rays melted the metal war machines while evaporating all souls inside.
One could hear the battle from miles around. The waging battles ensuing ferociously at these two known locations. Suddenly we could hear more of the reverberating effects of floating machines coming in our direction from the west. In hopes of not being seen by the monsters, we ducked into and under the remains of destroyed buildings and other large objects along the way. The rays were blasted in our direction. We moved quite a bit faster as the mahines seemed to take thier sweet-ole time in chasing us, if that were the case. None of the machines appeared to move at a fast pace. They moved slowly and methodically. They moved as it they didn’t give a damn…arrogantly; as if nothing could hurt them. They moved as if they were invincible.

By the time we reached The Chelten Avenue area, there were dozens of people behind us and all around us as well. The survivors of the first wave of death and destruction were busy scavenging the remains of neighborhood stores and partially standing homes. Many of them didn’t even bother to notice us as we passed. However, when that eerie noise from the machines reached their ears, they froze in fright. More machines were seen traveling west to east on Chelten Avenue. Survivors immediately stopped what they were doing and began to ‘haul-ass’ away from the death-dealing metal assasins. A group of machines were again spotted approaching from east to west along the ‘Armat Street’ corridor. I don’t think one has to be a “rocket-scientist” to figure out that we have been spotted and were being encircled in a vicious snare, a trap!

 

~’Starvation’ – “My Brother’s Keeper”~

 

“It’s not possible that this is happening to us…we the people of the United States of America!” Who is looking out for us? Where oh where are our governmental leaders? Where are they?

Seeing and experiencing this catastrophe, reminded me of footage I’v seen on television broadcasts of people; survivors of earthquakes, twisters, and hurricanes…bombeb-out war zones! Footage of this sort was broadcast on a regualar basis via the news media, PBS, and many information venues.

Veterans often reminded those of us within ear-shot, of the tragedies witnessed and created by participants, voluntary or not, of war campaigns. The conversation often surrounded current events that have befallen us. Hurricanes have desimated the southern regions of the country as well as the surrounding Carribean and Latino Islands.
We’ve found it interesting how the southern regions, damned near simultaneously received disaster funds and relief while the Puerto Rican Islands and those inhabited by people of color, got a “foot-dragging” and explanations of how and why aid couldn’t get to them.

Headlines from newspapers found floating on the wind, along the war-torn streets of ‘Germantown’ as we trod along; was seen to read:

“Donald Trump Refuses to Send More Aid to Puerto Rico, Citing Business Interests”
https://www.yahoo.com/news/donald-trump-refuses-send-more-195456324.html
Chris Riotta, Newsweek

“Donald Trump has made it clear his administration isn’t planning to allow any additional outside aid to get into Puerto Rico in the wake of Hurricane Maria.

Speaking with reporters on Wednesday afternoon, the president cited business interests as the reason for refusing calls from lawmakers and activists to allow international organizations and governments to ship aid to the island.

Trump said he was initially considering whether to implement a temporary waiver of the Jones Act to allow it, but decided against doing so as “a lot of people that work in the shipping industry…don’t want the Jones Act lifted.”

Also called the Merchant Marine Act of 1920, the Jones Act requires all goods shipped between American ports to be on ships built, owned and operated in the United States.

The refusal to work with intergovernmental networks eager to supply aid to the devastated island was then echoed by Trump’s Department of Homeland Security. “Based on consultation with other federal agencies,” spokesman David Lapan said Wednesday, “DHS’s current assessment is that there is sufficient numbers of U.S.-flagged vessels to move commodities to Puerto Rico.”

The department did waive the Jones Act to aid Houston and parts of Florida that were ravaged by hurricanes Harvey and Irma. Senator John McCain, who has repeatedly fought to repeal the act, slammed the Department of Homeland Security for failing to extend the same relief efforts to Puerto Rico that it provided to parts of the mainland United States.

“It is unacceptable to force the people of Puerto Rico to pay at least twice as much for food, clean drinking water, supplies and infrastructure due to Jones Act requirements as they work to recover from this disaster,” the Republican McCain wrote in a letter to the department on Tuesday. “Now, more than ever, it is time to realize the devastating effect of this policy and implement a full repeal of this archaic and burdensome Act.”

Proponents of the Jones Act say that without it, the country would be forced to rely on cheaper international ships operated by foreign workers and put American vessels in a more crowded and less efficient shipping environment.

Temporarily waiving the Jones Act for Puerto Rico “would take American first responders out of the loop and replace them with Filipino or Russian or Chinese crews,” Michael Roberts, senior vice president and general counsel at Crowley Maritime Corporation, told The Wall Street Journal Wednesday. “Doing that at a time when many U.S. mariners in this region have had their homes damaged, their lives uprooted and now they need to work, to take that away is not something you want to do.”

Proponents of the Jones Act say that without it, the country would be forced to rely on cheaper international ships operated by foreign workers and put American vessels in a more crowded and less efficient shipping environment.

Temporarily waiving the Jones Act for Puerto Rico “would take American first responders out of the loop and replace them with Filipino or Russian or Chinese crews,” Michael Roberts, senior vice president and general counsel at Crowley Maritime Corporation, told The Wall Street Journal Wednesday. “Doing that at a time when many U.S. mariners in this region have had their homes damaged, their lives uprooted and now they need to work, to take that away is not something you want to do.””

It’s amazing how we can remember things that were taken for granted…it could never happen to me was the order and mind-set of the times. War is the order of the day…’North Korea’ will not back down; ‘Iran’ and ‘Iraq’ are both anxious witeh unexpected anticipation as to what this new regime will do next in upsetting “World Peace” and causing an end to us all via a ‘Nuclear Holocaust!’

People from ‘New Orleans’ were and have continued to suffer homelessness and displacement for more than five or six years after their hurricane disaster. The folks who were damaged by the “911 Attack” are still realing from continued turmoil and false promises from the ‘powers that be.’ And yet, again, “it couldn’t happen to us!”

 

Prologue:

“No one would have believed that in the middle of the (twentieth/twenty-first) century that human affairs are being watched keenly and closely by intelligences’ greater than man.
Yet, across the gulf of space on the planet ‘Mars,’ intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic regarded our ‘Earth’ with envious eyes…slowly and surely drawing their plans against us.
‘Mars’ is more than one hundred and forty million miles fron the ‘Sun‘…and for centuries has been in the last stages of exhaustion.
At night, temperatures drop far below zero even at its’ equator. The inhabitants of this dying planet, looked across space with instruments and intelligence of which we have scarcely dreamed; searching for another world which they could migrate…

They could not go to “Pluto;” outer most of the small planets and so cold, its’ atmosphere lies frozen upon its’ surface. They couldn’t go to “Neptune” or “Uranus,” twin worlds in eternal night and perpetual cold, both surrounded by un-breathable gas and ammonia vapors.

The “Martians” considered “Saturn,” an attractive world with its many moons and beautiful rings of cosmic dust – but its’ temperatures are close to two hundred and seventy degrees below zero and ice lies fifteen thousand miles deep on its’ surface

Their nearest world was giant “Jupiter,” where volcanic-titanic tips of molten lava, laced with hydrogen rises flaming to the top where atmospheric pressure is terrible; thousands of pounds per square inch…they couldn’t go there. Nor could they go to “Mercury,” the nearest planet to the “Sun”…it has no air; the temperature at it equator is that of molten lead.

Of all the worlds that the intelligences on “Mars” could see and study, only our own warm “Earth,” green with vegetation, ripe with water and possessed a kindly atmosphere eloquent of fertility.
It did not occur to ‘Mankind’ that a swift fate might be hanging over us or that from the firmness of ‘black-space’ that we might be scrutinized and studied until the time of our nearest approach to the orbit of “Mars” during the pleasant summer season…”

…AS Narrated By:
~ Sir H. G. Wells, Mr. Orson Welles, Sir Cedric Hardwicke, and Mr. Morgan Freeman ~

 

Thank you for joining the trip…enjoying the read…

 

Til Next Time…

 

‘G’

 

Epilogue (The Ending?):

Next…

Chapter 7: “Desolation”

 

Stay Tuned For The Release Of This Adventure, In Its’ Entirety!

In The Soon To Be Released, In The New Upcoming Volume of “HALLOW III”

 

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*/

 

 

‘A Time Of Hallow Too’

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.

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/*

“HALLOW, A State of Being”

The Ides of Change Does Bring The Danger…”Something Wicked This Way Comes!”

SIGNIFICANT!

important; of consequence.

having or expressing a meaning; indicative; suggestive:
a significant wink.

Statistics. of or relating to observations that are unlikely to occur by chance and that therefore indicate a systematic cause.
noun

something significant; a sign.

>

The Thriller:
A suspenseful, sensational story or film, a person or thing that thrills; an exciting, suspenseful play or story, especially a mystery story; a book, film play, etc., depicting crime, mystery, or espionage in an atmosphere of excitement and suspense; a person or thing that thrills.

“You Unlock This Door With A Key of Imagination…But Where Does One Begin and the Other End?

The Mystery:
Anything that is kept secret of remains unexplained or unknown; the mysteries of nature. Any affair, thing, or person that presents features or qualities so obscure as to arouse curiosity or speculation; a novel, short story, play, or film whose plot involves a crime of other event that remains puzzlingly unsettled until the very end; obscure, puzzling, or mysterious quality or character, any truth that is unknowable except by divine revelation.

The Occult:
Of or pertaining to magic, astrology, or any system claiming use or knowledge of secret of supernatural powers of agencies; beyond the range of ordinary knowledge or understanding; mysterious, secret, disclosed or communicated only to the initiated, hidden from view; not apparent on mere inspection but discoverable by experimentation; of a nature not understood as physical qualities dealing with such qualities; experimental occult science; the supernatural or supernatural agencies of occult studies or sciences; of or a characteristic of magical, mystical, or supernatural arts, phenomena, or influences beyond ordinary human understanding.

In and with all the mysticism, magic, science, and imagination of You; the ID, the Ego, and the Super-Ego; Hallow brings to bear…that often ignored and possibly forgotten, yet virtual stroll through your mind and beyond!

“God took dust from the ground, and formed Man, and inserted in him a spirit and a soul. This man was called “Adam,” which in the Hebrew tongue signifies one that is ‘Red,’ because he was formed out of Red Earth (Africa), compounded together; for of that kind is virgin and True Earth!”

The Macabre:
Gruesome and horrifying, ghastly, horrible; pertaining to dealing with or representing death, especially its grimmer or uglier aspect; of or suggestive of the allegorical dance of death; grim, resembling or associated with the dense macabre from old French danse; the macabre dance of death, probably from macabe relating to the Maccabees, who were associated with death because of the doctrines and prayers for the dead.

“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 Horror:
An overwhelming and painful feeling caused by something frightful, 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. “The Horror…The Horror!”

>

Sagacity: Sagacious!
keen and perceptive, having or showing discernment in judgement.

>

Redolent/Redolence!

having a pleasant smell; fragrant

(postpositive; foll by of or with) having the odour or smell (of); scented (with): a room redolent of country flowers

>

Portentous: Self-Important!

of momentous or ominous significance; miraculous, amazing, or awe-inspiring; prodigious; self-important or pompous

>

Era: Time!

a period of time marked by distinctive character, events, etc.:
The use of steam for power marked the beginning of an era.

the period of time to which anything belongs or is to be assigned:
She was born in the era of hansoms and gaslight.

a system of chronologic notation reckoned from a given date:
The era of the Romans was based upon the time the city of Rome was founded.

a point of time from which succeeding years are numbered, as at the beginning of a system of chronology:
Caesar died many years before our era.

a date or an event forming the beginning of any distinctive period:
The year 1492 marks an era in world history.

>

Epoch: a particular period of time!

a particular period of time marked by distinctive features, events, etc.:
The treaty ushered in an epoch of peace and good will.

the beginning of a distinctive period in the history of anything:
The splitting of the atom marked an epoch in scientific discovery.

a point of time distinguished by a particular event or state of affairs; a memorable date:
His coming of age was an epoch in his life.

Vision: Perception!

the act or power of sensing with the eyes; sight.

the act or power of anticipating that which will or may come to be:
prophetic vision; the vision of an entrepreneur.

an experience in which a personage, thing, or event appears vividly or credibly to the mind, although not actually present, often under the influence of a divine or other agency:
a heavenly messenger appearing in a vision.

“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.”

 

…Are WE LIVING IN DANGEROUS TIMES?

 

“…This Is Truly A Time Of Hallow!”

 

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http://blackinamerica.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=290777&cid=10

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‘HALLOWEEN HORRORS and FRIGHT STORIES for 2016’

By
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq.
http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=299011&cid=10

“Underfoot”
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.
http://thetattletaleunderfoot.blogspot.com/

“Howl Of An angel”
Watching, listening, and remembering all of the things that actually matter in this aging process. One would have you believe that aging is an honor, while on the other hand, a burden on society – the burden being money. How are we going to feed and care for the elderly? Do we do a bamboozling act on them by implementing the “Logan’s Run” theory?
http://howlofanangel.blogspot.com/

“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”
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/

“The Pendulum of Hades”
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…
Can you imagine the thought of him seeing angelical form? Some of the forms having heads of flaming spectres haunted his very soul. He had hopes of receiving help. He thought of sweet rest – in the grave. What peace there must be…in the grave? The thought came to him gently.
Silence, stillness, and darkness would contain such peace.
http://thependulumofhades.blogspot.com/

“Bowery of The Crimson Frock and Flesh”
By complete and utter observation, this opportunity allows the portrayal of the higher powers of the reflective intellect. Men and women of the highest order of intellect have been known to take an (apparently) unaccountable delight in their special analytical abilities; which a proficiency implies the capacity for success in all important understanding where mind versus mind.
“This Evening, Extra Ordinary Murders Have Been Discovered!”
The newspaper’s report stated inhabitants, at about 3a.m., of the ‘Quarter St. Roch,’ were aroused from their beds by blood-curdling screams and shrieks from the upper floors. On the fourth floor of the Rue Morgue, therein resided Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L’Espanaye. They were the sole occupants of the flat, not mention, the entire building.
The thick oozing gore dripped from the razor’s blade tip, down to the carpeted floor. The small puddle of crimson colored fluid began to grow into a larger pool, indicating it hasn’t been dripping very long.
http://boweryofthecrimsonfrockandflesh.blogspot.com/

‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock and Flesh’ Part Two: “The Wedding Party”
“They were lured with grapes, champagne, and laudanum. And then they were all euthanized.” The inspector spoke in trance-like sentences. “They were transported and dumped.”
The inspector began interviewing professional men. He spoke with doctors, dentists, taxidermists, veterinarians, surgeons, barbers, and butchers to the disapproval, chagrin, and dismay of Scotland Yard High Officials.
http://parttwotheweddingparty.blogspot.com/

‘Bowery of The Crimson Frock and Flesh’
‘Isle Manhattan’
“The Changeling – Loup Garou”
Part Three:
‘A Significant Era of Perceptive Aroma and Vision’
“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://blackhistory.com/content/286940/a-significant-era-of-perceptive-aroma-and-vision

“ALL HALLOWS NIGHT” – SHORT STORY IRONY
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!
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 of foam.
http://gboulwareallhallowsnight.blogspot.com/

“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.
http://shamanretold.blogspot.com/

“The Foxy Grandpa, Billy the Poet”
“The folks who understood science agreed that folks oughta stop making so many babies and
the folks who understood morals agreed that society would collapse if people used s*x for
nothing but pleasure.”
“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 s*xuality of common men and women.”
http://thefoxygrandpabillythepoet.blogspot.com/

‘The Rails, Some Hemp, and A Hanging’
The company had its share of ‘shiner’s’ on both sides of the war-torn fences. Their horses bayed and pranced in the cold damp yet dark beginning of the day’s morn. My hanging tribunal was short and to the point. My foolish guilt could not be reversed, albeit, my hatred for these ‘Blue-Coats’ and their Black supporters surpasses my pain and sorrowful agony. I do long for the fragrance and joys of home… My dear sweet ‘Abbey,’ my darling wife and young’uns; my plantation and memories of France cut at my brain.
In France I was broke, poor, and penniless… Here in South Louisiana, I have become rich, powerful, and wholesome. I have more than a hundred acres of land manned by two-hundred and eighty-five of the best young and strong Black livestock in the territory. Four hundred head of cattle graze on my lands. The farmyard houses chickens, geese, ducks, pork, and several dozen head of living horse flesh along with a few dogs and cats. I am a very wealthy man indeed.
http://therailssomehempandahanging.blogspot.com/

The Acrimonious, Gauche, and Incongruous
‘Ajantala’
“Heigh! I’ve never seen a woman give birth to such a terrible baby as this one!” screamed the suffering woman.
And when he took the soap and sponge and washed from himself all the blood and goo away from his body, he wrapped himself in an article of clothing owned by his mother. He then sat upright atop a high stool and looked at the people. He looked into everyone’s eyes with his ungrateful red eyes.
“Ha! I am badly hungry for food. What can I eat now?” He then started to sniff the sweet smell of food which was inside the room nearest his mother’s room.
But when they were about to start to eat the food and drink the kolas, Ajantala unexpectedly jumped up high and pierced one of the people with a sharp iron spike.
But to their horror, when they were about to announce the name which his father, the hunter, wished the old ones to name him, the baby himself announced very loudly and clearly to the masses, “My name is ‘Ajantala,’ the Shrine, the Rock from Heaven, and there is no need to give me another!”
http://theajantala.blogspot.com/

‘THE ULTIMATE IN TERROR – FAIRMOUNT!’
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~ “Valley Green’s Elusive Black Bear” ~ 

By

Gregory V.Boulware, Esq.

http://blackauthorsconnect.com/cgi-bin/blog.cgi?blog_id=292902&…

KYW NEWS RADIO 1060 AM: 
“Black Bear On The Loose In Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park!” 
May 13, 2016 12:03 PM 
By 
Lynne Adkins 
Filed Under: Bear, Fairmount Park 
http://philadelphia.cbslocal.com/2016/05/13/black-bear-on-the-loose…
PHILADELPHIA (CBS) — There’s a rare, furry visitor in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. 

Stephen McKenzie ‎@SteveMcKCBS3 
Black Bear got away, still on the loose in Fairmount Park now on the Valley Green rd side of the creek @CBSPhilly 
2:02 PM – 13 May 2016 · Philadelphia, PA, United States 
http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html 

At 12:02 P.M., Friday, May 13th, a Black Bear has been sighted in or around ‘Valley-Green Road’ near the ‘Valley-Green Inn in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. A fisherman down stream from Valley Green Inn was shocked to see a black bear lumbering through the woods.

Maura McCarthy, Executive Director of Friends of the Wissahicon says it’s not an everyday site and this is a good size animal.

“Bigger than a person is what the fisherman told me, so it looks like it’s either fully mature or almost mature, we’re not sure of the sex whether it’s male or female, we know that it’s probably pursuing food pretty far outside of its food range, but beyond that we don’t know where it’s from.” 
She says bears can be found in this part of the commonwealth, but adds it’s highly unusual for one to be found wandering within city limits.
Lynne Adkins
If you’ve listened to radio in the Delaware Valley, the odds are pretty good that you’ve heard Lynne Adkins. Lynne is a reporter and anchor for KYW Newsradio.

~ ‘FAIRMOUNT’ ~ 
By 
Gregory V. Boulware, Esq. 
http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html 

The Forrest Ranger walked over to the Police Captain and stood right in front of him and quietly requested his attention. The two men walked to another side of the search area for the private conversation. Gerald Glenn has been a Forrest Ranger for more than twenty years. Four of those years, his assignment had been the Northeastern Pennsylvania Region. Ranger Glenn knows everything about everything in the wild, from its greenery to the smallest of animals. Ranger Glenn pointed to something on the ground next to one of the Cherry Blossom trees, a print of something large was present. A few feet away in a southwesterly direction, off the roadway of Strawberry Mansion Drive, another large print was found.

Captain Willice Samuel, of Philadelphia’s Finest, stood looking over the edge of the cliff, peering down onto the East river Drive. The screaming sirens of emergency vehicles filled the normally quiet environment of park life. Speeding past the stopped traffic below, the EMR vehicles made their way up the hill to the spot were the kids were playing. The Strawberry Mansion Bridge was at a standstill as was the East River Drive traffic. Nothing and no one was being allowed to move through the area.

Traffic backed up all over. Ridge Avenue was being over-crowed with the over flow of rush hour traffic. Both river drives, East and West, were backed up into the East Falls area of Midvale Avenue into Henry Avenue. The downtown out bound traffic was a mess. The local news on automobile radios reported the traffic mess as an accident in the park. They were not aware of the trouble that was amiss. Emergency vehicles were parked at the spot were the body of Lindsey Irvin lay at bottom of the twelve hundred ft drop from the cliff of the Strawberry Mansion roadway. The first EMR personnel on the scene could not believe their eyes.

>

Part 1:
‘Strawberry Mansion’ 

The Fairmount Park Rapist became second fiddle to this latest horror in our city’s parkland…where no one is safe! No one in able to control, contain, or prevent the attacks of this killer that stalks the area…save one man who knows the inner workings of the mind of this murderer!

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. It’s about a twelve hundred foot drop to the bottom.

Painful fear gripped his heart as he watched the massive tree-trunk sized object strike his cousin and lift him from the ground. Malcolm’s eyes were fixed on Jason and then on his cousin. His eyes screamed at them as if he were saying, “why don’t you guys reach out and grab me?” “Something hit me!” “It hurts!” “I’m falling!” Jason and Lindsey could do nothing as they watched in terror. The flying, broken, and bloodied body of their friend and cousin twisted and turned in the air while falling away from the cliff’s surface and down towards the bottom of the hillside. The angry and piercing eyes of the thing were now upon them.
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/15/fairmount-the-series-p…

Part 2:
“Smith Playground In North Philly” 

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?
Gerald Glenn, Genailia Francis, and Willice Samuel walked through the patch of rhododendron and azalea bushes to examine the grassy spot near the Strawberry Mansion Bridge.

Ranger Glenn removed the sample of plant leaf and soil from a plastic bag while pointing to the spot he had examined during the initial search around the cherry blossom tree. The paw-print, nearly gone after being exposed for more than ten days, gave Francis and Samuel a fright. Now the captain knew why the ranger had that strange look on his face the day the boys were attacked. “Damn, do they actually grow to be that big”, exclaimed Samuel? Glenn answered, “No”. He also added, “I’ve seen them big…but not this damn big!” 
“This one is huge…gigantic…a monster!” “From the size and length of the print, it’s got to be at least 9 to 10 foot in height and weighing more than 5,000 lbs. 
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/01/26/part-2-of-fairmount-th…

Part 3:
A Sweet Briar License’ 

The news media took the ball and ran with it. The headlines blasted the story of the attack of Czepaky and her children on the front pages of their respective papers.

Television news programs portrayed the mother and her children as their leading news story. Radio news did likewise. And still they did not mention Lindsey Irvin.
A heavy police presence saturated both sides of the Schuylkill River, from the East Falls Bridge to the Art Museum and Eakins Oval. The Marine Unit of The Philadelphia Police Department could not find anything that would indicate the whereabouts of the bear or the body of he suspected dead teenager. The order was given to start a diving search and rescue effect. “We don’t expect to find the boy alive, “ said one team commander to another diving squad commander. “But we do expect to find his body.”

Two divers were set to go into the water. Assistant team members double-checked their gear. They made sure that the underwater radios and flashlights were operating correctly. The divers entered the water under the Girard Avenue Bridge, just down river from the viewing stand and Goose Island, which sat smack in the middle of the river directly across from the viewing stand automobile parking lot.
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/fairmount-the-series-p…

Part 4:
“A Pillar of Salt” 

Sirens screamed…seemingly from everywhere. The eeriness of the moonlit night chilled the souls of all witnessing the frightening and tragic event. The female driver who was involved in the fender-bender, stood still. When she reached her car, a 2006 Mercedes XE – she stood…shivering. The woman stared with the eyes of a statue, a pillar of salt. Her face stone cold and pale chalky white…just screamed. She wasn’t aware of her scream.

The coroner was already loading the lower half of the dead cop’s body into the van as the two captains arrived on scene. “Damn”, exclaimed Captain Noodles while viewing the bloody scene and what was left of the cop. “One of the witnesses is already at the hospital,” stated a 14th District Sergeant. Captain Samuel asked, “What in the hell kind of animal are we dealing with?” The swat team commander reported to commissioner Talis. “We’ve found a blood trail leading back from the roadway down to the river’s edge. All that we found was a couple of fingers, a pool of blood, very large animal paw-prints, and crushed shrubbery… Nothing else…whatever it was, it’s gone!” 

“It’s a bear…a rather larger than life monster Kodiak bear.” The voice of dread was that of the newly appointed Environmental Protection Agency agent and Governmental National Parks and Wildlife Ranger Gerald Glenn.

It took the mayor all of fifteen minutes to reach the horrific and catastrophic scene. The newspaper, TV, radio, and network news media were already encamped at the site. The mayors’ personal police escort carved a direct access route through the barricades and intrepid news-hawks. She stepped out of the car, surrounded by bodyguards and her immediate staff. Microphones and cameras made an attempt to smother her. She waved her left hand and with a sternful glance…indicating no interviews or statements.
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2015/12/25/fairmount-part-four-a-…

Part 5:
‘The Myrtlewood Street Funeral’ 

The news media swarmed the event. They surrounded Officer Leonard Kirkpatrick, his wife Evelyn, and his doctor – asking all kinds of questions while shoving microphones recorders and cameras in their faces.

“What was it like to see your partner bitten in half by the beast?” “Why didn’t you shoot the monster when he attacked?” “What did the thing look like, officer?” “Why didn’t the thing eat the other half?” “How come you didn’t get eaten by the beast?” 

The group of Black men crossed the street to where the reporters were congregating. Ramses grabbed one of the reporters, who happened to be a white female. The group of cops stopped their conversation to watch the confrontation. The embittered father demanded a verbal response from the journalist. “WHY WEREN’T YOU PEOPLE ASKING QUESTIONS WHEN MY BOY WAS KILLED?” “WHY IS IT THESE QUESTIONS ARE ADDRESSED AFTER MY SON WAS KILLED BY THIS THING?” “WHY WEREN’T YOU ALL FALLING ALL OVER YOURSELVES WHILE INVESTIGATING MY BOYS KILLING?” Ramses got the attention of all the reporters present. “WAS IT BECAUSE THIS IS THE FUNERAL OF A WHITE NORTHEAST COP AS OPPOSED TO A LITTLE BLACK BOY FROM NORTH PHILLY?” Screamed the distraught teary-eyed father. “I WILL ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS…LINDSEY WAS A HUMAN BEING TOO!” Said Ramses.

“The distinction between brown and grizzly bears is geographical. Brown bears that live close to the coast are called brown bears. Browns living inland and in northern lands, such as Denali, are called grizzlies,” Glenn said. “They share the scientific name Ursus arctos.”

Professor Genailia Francis added, “Black bears are smaller than browns and also cover a great deal of the state. Their fur color isn’t always black; it may even appear brown, cinnamon or (rarely) blue.” 

“Black bears may be seen feeding on salmon at Anan Creek, but they’re common enough in Juneau, Seward and parts of Anchorage to be considered pests. A male bear that’s ready for hibernation may weigh 240 pounds. The scientific name is Ursus americanus,” she said.

“Think about it. This thing on its hind legs could walk up to the average single-story house and could look on the roof at eye level.” There was never a question that the brown bear that a 22-year-old hunter shot to death in October 2001 on Hinchinbrook Island was huge. The grizzly measured 10 feet, 6 inches from nose to tail. Its front claws were 3 to 4 inches long. An Alaska master guide estimated the bear’s weight at up to 1,200 pounds. (The average brown bear weight for Hinchinbrook is less than half that.) One photo shows the hunter holding the bear’s paw as it obscures almost his entire chest. A second photo shows him crouching like a child behind the bear’s massive, bloody head. “It’s over one thousand six hundred pounds . . . 12’6” high at the shoulder,” stated the reporter.

Most of the time, black bears are reluctant to meet people and can be shooed away. Juneau has particular problems with its numerous black bears, however. The city even created a committee to deal with the bears. Hikers in Chugach State Park, Chugach National Forest and Kenai National Wildlife Refuge need to be aware of bear habits and habitat. Bears show up during the salmon runs, usually mixing peacefully with anglers. Look for bear warning signs along the Kenai, Russian and Little Susitna rivers and along many creeks and trails with road access. 

The mayor, appearing perplexed, paradoxed, disconcerted, and unsatisfied wanted to also know how this beast was to be dealt with. She looked directly a Glenn…and then at Talis. Her denoted glare returned to Glenn. “What would you suggest we do about this animal – sir?” Talis moved to respond. Finkles threw up a hand with all five digits to signal a halt to the interruption. “I can stalk and trap this creature with a certain level of assistance,”’ replied the ranger. Without looking for confirmation from the commissioner, Captain Samuel assured the ranger of his support. Captain Noodles barked, “You have no authority to offer anything to this man!” The two captains glared at one another, one was filled with hatred and bitterness toward the other. Captain Samuel looked to his commissioner for support. The commissioner, in his usual divergence and belied acquiescence, gazed vicariously elsewhere. Mayor Finkles deftly replied, “Yeah, but I do!” The mayor beamed a sardonic, dour, and non-faggoted glare at the commissioner and offending captain, well aware of their canted behavior and practices.

“We need to deploy all resources in the capture and removal of this animal…at all cost.” She fiercely replied to the oppositional attitude of Noodles’ baneful disposition.

The cop sneered and steered his gaze towards the commissioner. Talis just stood there. He appeared to be a military type style of attention. The mayor had complete control over the situation. “Let’s hear it, Ranger!” The mayor sat down amongst the commissioners and zookeepers.

“The bear in the park is a monster. I suspect that it is also a product of the surreptitious people within that encampment,” exclaimed the ranger. The ranger vehemently expressed his belief. “I believe that this bear is an experiment that has gone wrong…because it has escaped and is now here with us – eating, living, and hunting.” 
https://gvb1210mine.wordpress.com/2016/02/18/67/ 

The One Page Edition:
gvb1210mine.Wordpress.com – Reads From Bottom To Top.

Filed Under: Bear, Fairmount Park
http://philadelphia.cbslocal.com/2016/05/13/black-bear-on-the-loose…
http://www.boulwareenterprises.com/FAIRMOUNT.html 

Philadelphia and the surrounding counties hold abundant open spaces, wildlife refuges, bird sanctuaries, and state parks. These treasures provide Philly area residents with seemingly endless opportunities for viewing wildlife. From the mountains to the shore, nature buffs don’t need to travel far from the City of Brotherly Love to enjoy nature.

Til Next Time…

“Amazon” 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e… 

Kodiak, Brown, and Grizzly Bears 
References:
John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge
8601 Lindbergh Blvd.
Philadelphia, PA 19153
(215) 365-3118
www.heinz.fws.gov 
The John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge is a Philadelphia area gem; a veritable mecca of wildlife. Situated near Philly’s airport, this park is the result of an act of Congress, which moved to preserve the 1,200 acres of meadows, woodlands and marsh because it held the last 200 acres of fresh-water marsh in the state of Pennsylvania. With more than 300 bird species – including the bald eagle – making their home in the refuge, it is an excellent spot for birdwatching. Angling is also popular, as there is a wide variety of fish. The marshes and surrounding meadows and woodlands are home to a multitude of animals including turtles, snakes, frogs, muskrat, deer, and fox.

Nockamixon State Park
1542 Mountain View Drive
Quakertown, PA 18951
(215) 529-7300
www.dcnr.state.pa.us 
Located in Quakertown just an hour’s drive from Philadelphia, the 5,286 acres of Nockamixon State Park are home to abundant wildlife. Lake Nockamixon, one of the park’s most enticing features, is fed by three creeks including Tohickon Creek, Three Mile Run and Haycock Run. The waterway is home to a diverse population of fish as well as a number of water fowl, including a variety of migrating ducks and geese. Eagles and hawks can be spotted throughout the park, as can fox, raccoon, rabbit, deer, turkey, and even the occasional black bear.

The Philadelphia Zoo
3400 W. Girard Ave.
Philadelphia, PA 19104
(215) 243-1100
www.philadelphiazoo.org 
For more than 150 years, the Philadelphia Zoo has provided visitors with unique opportunities to view and learn about wildlife from all over the world. Today, this Philly institution continues to connect people with wildlife through interactive exhibits that educate and foster appreciation for the diverse wildlife population that lives there. In addition to viewing and interacting with displays, the nation’s first zoo leads the community as an example for conservation and environmental sustainability. In addition to exploring the zoo on one’s own, membership, classes, camps and special events provide myriad opportunities for visitors to see and interact with the wildlife on display.
http://boulwareenterprises.com/-_A_Portentous_Epoch_~.html 
http://philadelphia.cbslocal.com/2016/05/13/black-bear-on-the-loose…

 

imgs. of Bears:
https://www.google.com/search?q=image+of+bears&sa=X&espv=2&…

“Amazon” 
http://www.amazon.com/Gregory-V.-Boulware/e/B00OI16PDI/ref=ntt_dp_e… 
Photo Coutesy of: 
errebeekeeper.wordpress.com 

~ ‘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… 

 

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Def.Ref.:

Fagot:
non-faggoted

A bundle of sticks, twigs, or branches bound together and used as fuel, a fascine, a torch, etc.
http://www.dictionary.com/browse/fagot?s=t