Posts Tagged ‘Ebonton’

Greetings fellow inmates!

Just a short one for you. I’m going to do something a little bit different today. I’ve been reminiscing. You see, i was looking back at my older posts earlier and i felt that they were unceremoniously being forgotten in favor of more recent ones. I’m referring mostly to my older poems. A couple of my older favorites don’t seem to get much attention anymore. That’s nobody’s fault but my own of course, but i feel it is a shame. So, i thought I’d write a post highlighting my older favorites so newer inmate additions to the blog could give them a gander without searching through the archives. Links are provided of course!


Tarquin – A story about a twisted killer butler.
Lives of masks – A poem about what masks mean to people.
How to kill an angel – A dark poem about punishing an angel. First time i was afraid of offending people with my writing.
Lighthouses – A sad poem about the selflessness of lighthouses.
World-weariness – A poem close to my heart. A personal favorite of mine. A story about my view of the world.
Insanity – A word on human nature and what sanity and insanity means to me.
The story of man and madness – A dark poem on romance and revenge.
Recipe for disaster – A recipe for a human being.


The Hell did that come from?! – An enigmatic piece about someone becoming something other than human.
The Oldschool Harlequin – A piece about the supernatural being the Oldschool Harlequin.
The Harlequin: Passage One – The monologue of a killer. There has been a 2nd passage too.

Well, there you go! These are not all of the older posts I’ve created, i just feel these are some of my best works. I implore anybody to read them and give them a chance. Each and every piece i create is hugely important to me, whether it be a poem or some random piece of writing. So yes, if you ever have the time or you’re just bored, give them a gander. It’d mean a lot and i reckon you won’t be disappointed! I tip my hat to you.

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Have a very crazy day!

It has been quite some time since I wrote about Ryan Sargent. Far too long in my opinion. Ryan has been hunting demons recently, or more specifically, a particular kind of demon.

“Demons are one of the most fascinating beings I’ve ever hunted. Demons are one of the most mysterious beings I’ve ever hunted. Demons are one of the most dangerous beings I’ve ever hunted. I could never claim to enjoy doing what i do, indeed it feels more like a duty to humanity, but i can’t help but find these evil, savage creatures very intriguing. During my career (if it can be called as such) i have followed in the wake of 4 demons. Each one was as unique as a us humans can be. Each one totally different from the next, their powers, their appearances, their dispositions, even down to the reasons that it came to our world.

Picture the archetypal demon from lore. Picture the red skin, bestial features, ram-like horns and affinity for fire. Well, throw that image out of your head. These things are nothing like that. I tell you, the church couldn’t be more wrong. The fantasy writers couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve seen a demon that resembled a swirling mass of cogs with red blazing eyes. I’ve faced a demon that looked more akin to a fish than a devil, though just as cruel. I’ve myself banished a demon that resembled a mouse with a snake for a tail. You see, they are as varied as they are dangerous.

They are all certainly evil, there’s no doubting that. Few denizens of the supernatural have quite the same body count as these monsters. They kill for pride, they kill for greed, they most certainly kill for wrath. They are pure-bred killing machines, from what I’ve seen. Some are more subtle perhaps, but they are all capable of horrendous slaughter.

But how do they come to our world?

That varies really. They claw their way from Hell to our world and then either possess a human or travel through some kind of occult portal. The second option there obviously requires inside help, so to speak. Well, demons are able to travel around our world in some kind of spirit form. Like a ghost, you know. But there is another way. A lesser known method to enter the mortal world. They still use humans, but in a far more hideous manner.

The demons that adopt this method are possibly the worst of the worst. The damned among the damned. I call them the “Thirsters”.

Unlike ‘normal’ demons, these fiends are more animalistic. They don’t think like a sentient being, they are beasts. Nothing more. So how do these things get into our world? Surely they would too primitive to possess someone. They’re certainly not subtle enough to trick someone into building them a gateway. No, the actual method Thirsters use is far more primitive and violent. It still curdles my blood to this day.

Bob told me it was actually some kind of curse. The idea of a cursed demon is bizarre really. I thought they were already supposed to be cursed, hence why they were in Hell. Probably Bob being a trickster again, trying to scare me.

They simply tear their way into our world. They too, travel to our world from Hell and then slink around our atmosphere in some kind of spirit form. They then identify a worthy “host”. Now from what i can tell, this host has to be someone who is either very agitated at a given moment or is naturally hot-blooded. The demon then spiritually enters the hosts body and quite literally rips itself out, in a physical form. You see, they use human bodies and blood as their portals. I think an obsession with pain and blood is what has driven them to this depraved method. It’s the only reason that makes sense.

I have witnessed it myself unfortunately. Quite recently, in fact. I had tracked down a depraved cultist that was trying to grow his flock to a warehouse down in the grey district. He had been grooming local tramps and hobos. Truly, the depths this freak would plumb were unknowable. Once inside the warehouse he began some kind of disgusting ritual, involving copious amounts of blood and a goat. I’d rather not repeat how it went. The cultist repeated what i assume was a name: Rigtos. He must of repeated the name at least 30 times before something began to happen. The man began to convulse horribly, blood streaming from his nose and eyes. Then in a sickeningly display, a crimson bladed fist burst forth from the mans chest. Followed by more claws, pulling the chest opening further apart. Then suddenly the body was ripped clean in two, a monstrous dog-like beast crawled forth. It let out a bestial roar and leaped clear out of the roof. This was an archetypal Thirster. A true monster.

For the record, that thing did get away. It was long gone before i could even get out of my hiding spot.

So there you have it. My very simple account of a class of demon that poses a very true threat to society. A very real threat to our families, our friends and our homes. These creatures are true monsters, completely devoid of anything even remotely reminiscent of feelings or remorse. One has to wonder what Hell could of created such an abomination.”

From the desk of Ryan Sargent.

Continuation of ‘The Harlequin: Passage one’.


It is the 30th of October, 2014. It is a Tuesday. The week has begun, progressed and is beginning to come to an end, but many people are still unable to truly relax as they can at their most beloved weekends. I woke up as normal, with a heavy head. The night before had been laden with nightmare and voices. Used to it i may be, but it is regrettably no less terrifying. Ahh yes, my nightmares. I think they have blighted my mind the majority of the time since my parents split from one another.

The dreams always consist of myself sitting in a dark, dank room with grey concrete walls. I am always sitting on an old, yet ornate wooden chair. A paupers throne i suppose.  Opposite me, near the wall, there are my parents committing awful, repugnant acts of homicide upon each other. These acts are repeated over and over again, until my mind is spiraling and whining. Then i spring back to the real world. The world of the awakened. I almost always awake teary and sweaty. Damn these nightmares!

Each dream resided over by one abhorrent magpie.

After several minutes, I ascended from my grubby bed, groaning “Bugger…” as I went, as I often did. The night before had been an arduous one to be sure. I had been on the absinthe once again with my most cherished friends. I was most certainly regretting it now, my head and gut were spinning like a carousel. My body enjoys punishing me! It revels in my pain, as if it were a self destructive torturer.

As i gripped my loathsome head, I remember looking around my bedroom in a daze. Or as my brother called it my “den”. As I did, I remember thinking two distinct things. The first being how much of a dump my room was. A veritable hovel I say! As I peered around the room, I felt a feeling of belonging and homeliness. I adored my room, even if it was a tip. Perhaps it is a representation of myself, I’m a jester of the urban underworld after all. Hardly a high class denizen. Or so the choir of society would have you believe.

The second being a figure of a person i had met in my drunken daze the night before. Unsurprisingly i could not remember anything about this figure. I could not remember if it had been male or female, a stranger or someone familiar, Friend or foe. Least of all could I remember what this individual was doing with us, in our drunken revelry. I would have to convene with my friends later on…


It’s Ryan Sargent again, talking about his unlikely (and unwanted) companion. Who is it? What is it? How did Ryan meet this individual?

“Sometimes it may be unclear why I’m so certain the supernatural exists. I mean sure, I’ve seen plenty of weird and evil things. Getting proof of them is another matter entirely though. However, the ironic thing is i actually have proof in my very own home. Yes, i have something haunting my own home. I try to ignore the irony of that. I can’t prove something exists even though i technically live with it. I say haunting my home, but i really mean infesting my home. It wears a ginger wig, it eats nothing but peanut butter and it isn’t all that cooperative.

The damn thing won’t go away!

Thankfully it is sentient, it can speak. Surprisingly good English as it happens. It often interjects itself into my musings, usually unhelpfully. It tends to interrupt me equally as much. I wouldn’t consider it a hugely intelligent being, but for obvious reasons it does tend to have useful information on the supernatural. I’m not entirely sure what the being is. It doesn’t look like any demon I’ve ever seen, though it resembles the typical imp. It doesn’t appear to be dangerous. It doesn’t cause much trouble, it tends to just sit around eating.

It resembles a diminutive humanoid figure, with an insectoid face, complete with a bizarre amalgamation of a mouth. Both mammalian and insectoid. A grey, almost latex-like skin covers its body. It has 6 eyes, shining 3 different colors: red, green and blue. It’s wearing a ginger wig, i have no idea where it got that. Next door perhaps? I have no idea why it’s wearing it either, but it insists that i mustn’t touch it. It has long, slender arms with similarly slim fingers with small claws. On its shoulders it has a strange leafy material, in a sickly green colour. It has what appear to be crystals bursting from the leafy material. The group of crystals are dark greens and deep purples, with one large crystal that is jet black. I actually thought it was a lump of black steel at first. It appears to be able to float around at will. Telepathically perhaps? The most peculiar and interesting feature of this being is the intricate gold pocket watch that is chained to it’s wrist. Another of its acquisitions perhaps? It is resolute in the fact that the watch belongs to it though.

Chillingly, the being told me that the watch is counting down to the apocalypse. Now, i will be the first to admit that i am superstitious. I believe in the supernatural, the underworld and countless other planes of existence. But the apocalypse? I find that hard to believe. That would suggest that everything is predetermined. A thought i do not relish. But enough on that for now…

It calls itself Bbbolhugnith.  No, i don’t know how to pronounce it either. I’ve taken to calling it Bob. Far easier to say and the beast seems fairly disinterested in what i call it. Bob seems to be elusive in actually telling me who or what it is. I’ll admit i don’t even know if it’s a male or female. Perhaps gender is irrelevant to it. I haven’t been able to find any information on the beast and it’s not telling so i seem to be in limbo really. It lives in my house, ingesting copious amounts of peanut butter, occasionally helping me in a search for an obscure mythical beast. It seems to be able to easily evade any visitors. Either it’s a master at hiding or it has some power over magic.

How did i meet it? Well to be honest, it found me. I had just come back from a hunt in the northern cemetery with a small crystal fragment. I’d found it in the coven of cannibal witches I’d just managed to eliminate. No mean feat i assure you, but that’s a story for another time. I brought the deep, dark purple crystal home as i was certain it was something worth investigating further. I’m not sure it was the best idea now of course. That very same night, i get woken up to the sound of commotion in my kitchen. I burst in, pistol at hand, to see a small creature attaching the crystal to its back with one hand, and stuffing its gob with peanut butter with the other. It took one look at me and vanished into midair, leaving a pretty messed up kitchen. It never actually left. It’s still here. It seems to not mind me seeing it now. Why did it decide to stay here? Why did it run in the first place? What was the crystal? What the hell is with the peanut butter? I honestly have no idea, this creature is truly an enigma.

It’s not really the kind of companion that i would of liked. Bob comes in handy, yes. But it is frustratingly evasive and refuses to give me any information on itself. Hell, i had to hit it with a random kitchen implement a few times for it to even give me its name. I honestly imagined a companion being more human. Not to mention taller. Well, beggars can’t be choosers i suppose. I think I’ll leave it here, it sounds like Bob is causing a ruckus again. Pretty sure i hear a cat screeching its head off. Bob is probably attempting to burn it again. I wanted a companion, not a pet…”


Ryan Sargent saw some pretty crazy things in the city of Ebonton recently. I know that seems to be a constant for him, but there you go. Has he been fooled by an amazingly clever stunt or has he truly witnessed the supernatural again? Let’s see what he has to say for himself…

“I don’t know why i try to enjoy myself. My leisure time always seems to end up sprouting questions about the supernatural somehow. Perhaps I’m cursed or something. I went to watch some theatre shows recently. The shows were amazing, as i expected. Full of amazing magician tricks and some pretty unbelievably dangerous stunts. One in particular was quite something to behold. An absolutely gorgeous young woman began the stunt by saying some strange words in an unknown language. This struck me as bizarre straight away.  Then she motioned to the stage crew to activate the machine at the other end of the stage. This machine was unlikely to pass any health and safety checks whatsoever. It was a series of rings a few feet apart that were held up on end, almost like a tunnel. The insides of the rings were quite clearly circular saws of some kind. The rings then began to move about independently of each other, creating a pretty hellish obstacle course for our young stunt woman.

What followed defied any rational explanation!

The stunt woman held her arms out to the side. Then, slowly but surely, the woman began to levitate slowly. The audience was dumbfounded of course! But i got that sinking feeling in my belly that i always got when something supernatural was nearby, call it a monster hunters intuition! The woman levitated about 3 feet off the floor and stopped. Then she said some more unearthly sounding words. She turned slowly towards the obstacle course of death, still in the air. In a matter of moments the woman had performed some form of elaborate spin and burst through the air, passing unharmed through the spinning blades. Dodging and spinning while moving through a tunnel of saws of death? The audience was amazed! My eyes narrowed. The woman touched down on the stage at the other end of the machine again. The show was over. What a stunt right? I believe it was something different.

I had to read up on this. Check out some legends of magicians and the like. I don’t believe that it was some clever trick. I’m certain of it, it was magic! Now I’ve seen a good number of monsters in my time, but humans with the ability to wield magical abilities? That’s a new one. Of course, its not much of a stretch. There have been stories of wizards, medicine-men and witches since the dawn of recorded history. Conveniently enough, i found a legend pertaining to the very area this city was built on. I won’t get into how i found this for professional reasons. The legends of the Showmen. Wizards who used their powers to wow and confound the populace. Sounds harmless enough right? Not so.

Magic is real. We all think that the stage magicians and puppeteers are merely entertainers, but beneath the veil of their mundane practices lies a wholly different truth. These cryptic denizens of the world refer to themselves as the ‘Showmen’. Their gift, though impressive and awe-inspiring, may be more rare than many of the other denizens of the unknown world. They call it ‘Showmanship’ or the ‘Power of Purple’. An ancient gift from the heavens, depths or the aether (who knows?). Given to a small number of people who were forced under oath by some unknown being to keep the art of Showmanship secret. They were, however, encouraged to train others in the ways of their art but were told to draw new initiates from the dispossessed or the homeless. Presumably so as not to arouse suspicion. The reason why this magic is to be kept a secret is, unsurprisingly, also a secret.

As the legend goes, the gift of Showmanship was given to approximately 20 people by an unknown yet unbelievably mighty and persuasive being. There are conflicting views on what exactly the being was. Was it a god (or THE God) that passed down the power? Could it of been some Demon? Satan? An Elemental? Others still say that there was some kind of fairy baron who wished to turn these humans into some kind of perfect entertainers for some obscure reasons. Another told of an imp who tried to take control of these people and somehow messed it up. There seem to be countless theories, each with contradicting ideas and evidence. In truth, nobody truly knows where Showmanship came from. Showmanship, by its very own nature, is hard to categorize. Showmen seem to be able do almost anything. From generating different colour lights to creating devastating flames, from levitation to  invisibility. It’s a scary thing to imagine in the wrong hands and yet there doesn’t seem to be any accounts of the power being used to harm. Perhaps that was another tenet of the original trainers. Perhaps it is simply used to entertain, to beguile, to confound.

It’s strange when i seem to find a new supernatural thing that appears to be completely harmless. I always expect to find some kind of horrific being that feasts upon human flesh. Or a creature that wants to turn humans into its slaves. Showmanship would be dangerous in the wrong hands true, but keeping it safe and confined to the theatre seems to be the very point. I don’t know what to think. I have to be missing something. I feel this particular aspect of the supernatural world needs further investigation, there are far too many blanks here. I’m certain to be missing something…”

I killed him. I think you should know. My knife was Excalibur and his gut was a scabbard. The knife wanted a home, who am i to ignore it? A monster? Of course not! However it wasn’t as simple as that, ’twas not an act of mere ire. Much is involved in this drama, myself and him merely held centre stage. And quite a show it was! Much of the script was followed as i intended and the blood effects were highly convincing. Above all, as many plays intend, i enjoyed myself. The same cannot be said for him, dare i mention. I do trust that you wish to know the story yes? In that case, i predict an introduction is in order.

You can call me the Harlequin. In fact, call me Harley. Such a name is uncommon, i daresay.  However i do not call myself as such just to be different. No, the name stems from a love of the professions of the vivacious; the carnivals and the jesters, the clowns and the puppeteers. My adoration of these heroes has accompanied me through the several decades of my life. Their exploits have lended their entertainment to my mind during these seemingly long years. I am a Harlequin, i reside in the realms of the audiences mind. Rarely understood yet also rarely forgotten.  However i am a little voice, my opinions rarely heard. Many call me shy and quiet but these many are ignorant to the true Harley that resides in his own little world, doing and saying as he wishes.

In the terms of the ‘normal’ folk, i reside in the great city of Ebonton. Under the eyes of my dear brother Nick. Much to my own credit, i left the dreadful home of my mother, when she had parted ways with her husband, my father. I do not regret my actions, gaining by various means as much money as possible and traveling to Ebonton to stay with my brother who had moved there several years prior. I have lived here with him for just over a year, a time i have adored thus far.

The day i traveled here, thankfully i saw two magpies.

My brother is a great man, twenty years my elder. Yet another actor in this grand tale. He is a bald, muscly monster of a man with a certain love of modern heavy metal music. I certainly can’t fault him for that. He, like myself, also has a great adoration for the energetic dancer that is fire. Yes fire, that most terrific of mans creations! Also the most vengeful to the touch. Revenge, ’tis a sweet thing. I’ve tasted it a number of times and yet i cannot get enough of it. My dearly departed enemy suffered from my acts of vengeance. Sweet, sugary acts i couldn’t possibly regret.

How do you say it these days? It was a case of ‘he had it coming’. He crossed me and paid for it. A very heavy price indeed. The knife was the paymaster. But i cannot merely throw all of this at you without some form of explanation.

A story, i say! Like the bards of old, i will tell the tale. The previously mentioned drama.

The setting is my very own home city. Among the countless houses our story, my story, begins…


Yet another study from the monster hunter Ryan Sargent. It’s an old one again, but i tried something slightly different this time. I attempted to write it in a way that someone who was genuinely trying to categorize monsters/supernatural phenomena would. Lets see how this goes…

“I often find myself contemplating the motives that drive supernaturals. Do they act under the same influences and needs as us humans? Do they strive for riches, family or beliefs? Perhaps for more devious reasons? Indeed, many of the creatures I’ve encountered have seemed very… human. Sometimes they also appear human but at other times the creatures are very inhuman and yet act for very human reasons. I once encountered a beast that looked like what would happen if you turned a persons torso inside out, added two arms and grafted an iron plate on the front of the”head”. Very inhuman you would say but it transpired that the beast was acting for purely financial means, it turned people into ghoulish drug dealers to pander some weird, unholy drug it had created. A demonic businessman you could say. Granted, it did butcher several working class citizens but it turned out that this was because they were trying to compete with its drug business. Its probably still out there in the streets to be honest.

However horrific it may sound, we humans are prone to committing the exact same acts for financial gains. It does make me wonder if these supernaturals are so different from us. However these thoughts are quickly washed away, they must be different right? I really don’t know. I find myself contemplating it a lot and i can’t say there’s ever been a truly definitive case showing that a monster is similar to a man. The monster i mentioned above may of had somewhat inhuman reasons for seeking money. Whats to say it wanted it for the same reasons as us?

I’ve tried to be scientific about this and attempted to group the possible motives that may drive the supernaturals . I’ve come up with three groups. These are, of course, only my theories and observations. The groups are: human-like, natural and unfathomable.

Firstly, some creatures are absolutely indistinguishable from ordinary human beings. Some may have very vaguely non-human abnormalities; one may have extra large canine teeth, another may have inexplicable hair or eye colours, yet another may have strange blotches on their skin that glow in the dark and yet another may speak in such a manner that you may not be certain they they have ever spoken human language at all. However all of these could be explained away, they aren’t that strange. Genetic defects, diseases and cosmetics are common excuses.

These creatures can pass for human (usually) and move about our society without fear of discovery. Often their motives are similar to us as well, hence why they might choose to mimic us. They may be after money, a monster might be the enigmatic and estrange CEO of a corporation that sells pharmaceuticals. Another motive may be love, its entirely possible that a creature may be looking for a human mate or bride and how better to find one than to woo them as a human (even if it may only be a human skin). Yet another possible motive could be they are enchanted somehow by some of our beliefs. A creature may become obsessed with one of our religions, say Christianity. Maybe it wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.

I am sure there may be many other possible motives but i think my point is made. Perhaps you can think of some examples? You see, the main point of this group is that they behave like us. They are creatures that mimic our behavior for whatever reason. It is important to note though that some creatures inherently look and act like us, for example a vampire. In this case, their motives are human-like because they were once human. Their motives are entirely like us humans, their reasons also like ours, they do things for the same reasons we would. To become rich, to become famous etc.

Also could be called “Beast-like” i suppose. The second group is one filled by creatures that act like nature intended, so to speak. They behave not like us but like animals. Their motives are more primal: they seek prey and food, they wish for territory and they strive to survive, simple as that. These sorts of creatures act on instinct it seems and could be regarded as animals as opposed to monsters. They prowl our cities for prey, they carve out dens in the sewers and they stay away from the public eye. It is odd to label this as a motive, after all it is instinct that drives them regardless of the fact they are supernaturals. Are these beings truly monsters or simply animals that have hidden from us thus far? However i feel it is reasonable to group these types of creature as well.

The Unfathomables
The final group, the unfathomable, is just that. This incorporates those creatures that don’t seem to act for any conceivable reason. Perhaps the creature is so alien and detached and thus thinks in ways we could not possibly. Perhaps the creature is so insane that it is not strictly a motive that defines its actions but instead it just does things. These creatures are simply unknowable and as such their motives are also unknowable. To quickly summarize the three groups I shall mark them very simply here in note form.

Human-like- Act like us for largely the same reasons we might.
Natural- Act on instinct, much like regular animals.
Unfathomable- Acts for reasons we cannot deduce, sometimes seemingly random.

That summarizes my theories on the motives of the supernatural. Though i must say that it may not be so easy to categorize the motives of the supernatural like this. Looking back it’d make more sense to judge each creatures motives on a case by case basis. There are too many factors involved to group them so easily. After all, one ghosts search for a lost love would be very different to another ghosts search for a lost love.

I guess the supernaturals are a lot like us after all, we’re all different individuals. We can’t be categorized that easily. Its a strange comparison really. If the bulk of society knew of the supernatural, they’d most certainly think of them as different. But when you think about it, in a lot of cases, we’re not. Indeed one of the groups i mentioned are just like us ( a little at least). I must say, this is a strange revelation…”

Another one from the illustrious Ryan Sargent. I’m not as happy with this one, but it is a bit old so i guess I’ll let it slide. Enjoy!


“Like many others, I was born during the Cold war. A time when paranoia and hatred swept us all into a string of close encounters with nuclear war. Obviously i didn’t see it then, but it is ironic that we became so paranoid of each other. Of our own kind. The ironic part is that because of this paranoia we couldn’t see the actual threats to our race: the denizens of the supernatural.

The governments propaganda told us to “fear the commies” and to hate the Soviets. Unknowingly they had given the dark things a scapegoat. No one will fear vampires when they’re in an uproar about the Bay of Pigs. No one is going to be bothered about that questionable cult of weirdos in that run down warehouse while more countries are turning communist. Those strangely ritualistic killings were clearly an ordinary psycho, probably a commie to boot. I was too young to see it back then, but in retrospective there were strange goings on. It could be reasonable to say it was a child’s delusion, but i’m certain of it, even now. Obviously no one is going to investigate any strange killings or disappearances when there are commies to persecute. I never believed the propaganda anyway, didn’t listen to what the teachers had to say about the soviets. Why should i care right? In fact i have a perfect example of what I’m trying to say.

When i was 8 i had a friend called Bruce Piper. This must of been 1978, i suppose. Even at such a young ages, he was really interested in girls. He had a string of “relationships”, if they can be called that, with several girls at our school. Around this time, a new student came, her name was Angela Bouferce. She was a very beautiful girl, but not the normal kind of beautiful. She was that very unearthly kind of beautiful, like a plastic doll, with the dull, emotionless voice to match. Well, needless to say, Bruce was all over her. She seemed to respond well, i suppose. The school was still in an uproar about the cold war and seemed to try and brainwash the kids to hate soviets, including myself. It was a very anti-red school. This was nothing more than a backdrop for a horror story though.

Oddly i seemed to be the only one to notice anything out of the ordinary about this Angela girl. The awkward way she pronounced the simplest of words. The strange way she walked, as if with great difficulty. I was like a sighted person in a crowd of the blind, I’m the only one who can sense the lion coming in for the kill. Bruce didn’t seem to care or notice. They still swooned over each other.

Needless to say, it wasn’t to last. You may think that they would just split up right? Kids do that all the time right? In this case they didn’t split up, but one didn’t make it. Love kills and all that. One day i went to the bathroom during break. I can’t seem to stomach the thought of what i saw.

Bruce, sat upright against one of the walls, with his belly split horizontally. Blood was everywhere, as if the school had been repainted. On the wall, in the same gory paint, was the message:

“The deal is done…
                        Signed Mr. Ash”

The meaning of this message still eludes me. And who was standing over what was left of my friend? Who else but an equally messy Angela. She had a knife.

As you can imagine i was about to bug out of there. However, she didn’t come at me. Instead she rose a few feet into the air, her legs hanging loosely and arms up at awkward angles, as if held by an unseen puppet master. Her face was gaunt and expressionless, tilted to one side. As quickly as this happened, she vanished before my eyes. Back to the shadows. I ran to get help but Bruce was already long gone.

The Media jumped all over the case, saying the message on the wall was some kind of soviet code to begin some imagined uprising. I knew the truth of course. But it illustrates my point: people are more likely to listen to sensationalism than consider the possibility of the supernatural. I tried to explain what i saw of course, but the school just said i was disturbed by the death of my friend. People were more than willing to believe the stories in the newspapers. Who would listen to an 8 year old kid? Yes, the commies did it obviously, there’s no other explanation, foolish tards.

Well, that’s enough ranting for now, i think. Consider what i have said.

From the desk of Ryan Sargent.”

It’s quite nice to reminisce, don’t you think? This was a random monologue i wrote a while back. It’s from the perspective of a man called Ryan Sargent who hunts monsters in the hopes of both documenting them and proving they exist.

“We humans think we rule this planet. We think we’re the most perfect example of life, superior to any other lifeforms. Technology has given us the crown, we are the kings and queens of Earth. When something seems too powerful for our bodies, we develop something to kill it. When a place is too far away for us, we create something to take us there. We don’t need to be afraid of most diseases, we can cure them. We don’t even need to be fearful of each other, our legal systems protect us. We can party and have fun without a care in the world. That homeless mans plea’s go away when you’re stoned after all. With so much going for us, what could ever go wrong? I mean, we are the kings and queens of Earth, but we distrust each other and fear the shadows.

We can kill that which is too powerful for us, but we can still die easily. We can get anywhere we want, but whats the difference? We can cure most diseases, but some still claim lives daily. And we can drown out the bad and scary things with alcohol and drugs, but they’re still there but we can’t see them right?

However, our biggest flaw is that, despite all the innovation and technology, we still fear the night. When we walk along darkened streets, we still see killers in the corners of our eyes. When we’re young, we still fear the things in the cupboard and under our beds. I found out this is a reasonable thing. The night is dangerous. All manner of things hide and stalk in our cities and towns. There are things that go bump in the night. It turns out the kings and queens of Earth have potential usurpers. When we walk along the streets, our eyes aren’t tricking us, there are things looking out from the shadowy alleys. When the cupboard rumbles with rage, is it the child’s imagination or is something actually there? I know it sounds mad. Ghouls, ghosts and witches exist. Monsters, warlocks and uncategorisable freaks exist. Once i was like you, i too rationalized the scary and strange things away. That shadow didn’t just move. That man just likes to wear black robes in the middle of summer. That whisper was just the wind.

I didn’t believe in any of that either. Events conspired to show me how wrong i was. Now i’ve seen creatures that you’ve only seen in your nightmares. I’ve seen abominations that would make you puke. Us humans don’t rule this planet, we just share it with them. Perhaps one day you’ll open your eyes to the truth too.

My name is Ryan Sargent and i document monsters.

Do you dare follow?”