Stash crucifix

CL:
alex cheyz & emildollaz - crucifix drum kit
alex cheyz & skreer - radiant drum kit
blickyhomeboy - ancient
quis - fluid, 2024 stash
grim brxzy - brxzy
illka - idyllic
shazy - sober
greyrock - insomnia
chronic/waiiki private - drum kits, loops, presets
bbs - drum kit
cardinparis - unnecessary
whysee - religions
shonchi - bruxaria kit
kanbuu - new world kit
omg730 - vol. 1
filipmakesbeats - airlock poly kit
bwb - supply & demand v1
hologram (sunboy) - stella
hxllactm - aacuum/garden
luvxomea - runway, pluggnb, 1k kit
n9ck - 2k, 1k
molores - rizz, simulation, batman

The sign above the chain read “Welcome to Ascension - In This World, Not Of It”. The fence the chain was attached to was about four feet high and consisted of only a single bare metal wire that ran along the top of it. The letters were hand painted on a few strips of wood strapped together to make the sign. The wood was chipping off at the corners and worn down from the wind. It’d been here a while. At the top of the hill I could just make out what looked like the top of an old building.
I ran into the wire on day 8 of my planned three-week hike through the San Rafael Swell backcountry. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. There are abandoned buildings, ranches, and towns scattered all over this area. I followed the fence for about a mile until I got here.
It’s kind of a big deal to discover (or re-discover, I guess) a new ghost town, and Ascension wasn’t on my map, so I dropped a pin and took the chain off the fence. I’d get some good pictures, write up what I find, and maybe even have a night with an actual roof over my head. Things like this are why I don’t follow the established trails anymore.
At the top of the hill was what looked like an old storehouse of some sort, and looking down past it I could see the rest of the town. It was one lane with only a small number of buildings lining it. There were nineteen houses, two of which were reduced to only their foundations, a store, the storehouse I was next to, and a church. Usually a town of this size would have a bar as well, but judging from the sign and the size of the church, I wasn’t surprised there wasn’t one.
The store was still plenty sturdy and had a couple of tables to boot, so I set up my bedroll on the counter. I carry a small, collapsible solid fuel stove that works with wood just for occasions like this. I set it up outside and collected enough wood for dinner and breakfast. A hot meal eaten in a chair at a table is a rare comfort on hikes like this, and sitting there watching the sun set had me feeling like royalty. I slept like a baby.
I woke up the next morning feeling like a new person. I got the water over a fire and started packing up, finishing as the water hit a boil. With a belly full of hot coffee and warm food, I stashed my pack behind the counter, and set out to document the town as well as I could before I got on my way.
The houses were plain and functional, and exactly alike. Each had three rooms. The back room always held a single large bed, with a varying number of beds in the side room. A single rocking chair was in what I would call the living room, which was otherwise empty except for a wood stove on the outside wall for heat and a cooking surface. Above each stove hung a cast iron skillet. There were very few other possessions that I could find. The beds had blankets in states of decay, and there would be some tin plates and knives. That was about it. I expected I’d find bibles, crucifixes, and other religious paraphernalia, but there was nothing. I guess they must have been the austere kind of wayward Christian community. I felt a little sorry for them, but even if it looked sad to me, this was someone’s dream at one point. I just took my pictures and moved on.
As I approached the church, I saw something dart into one of the houses. Just a quick flash of grayish brown. There’s coyotes out here, but it’s not normal to see one during daylight. I moved a little closer, stepping carefully. There was a crash from the other side of the house as it knocked something over, then silence. I stood frozen for a moment listening hard before I gave up, assuming the crashing sound was whatever I saw getting out of town by way of a back window.
I took a moment to relax before turning back to the church. It was an absolutely massive building in relation to its setting. You could fit at least two of the local houses in its footprint, stack them two high, and still not have run into the steeple. A quick walk around it confirmed that there were no decorations or windows, and only one set of doors. They didn’t even hang a cross. The steeple was the only thing that gave it away as the church. The wood was worn and cracked, but otherwise still whole. It looked like it had been painted white at one point, but the only paint left was little flecks trapped in a few spots of deeply worn grain. The rest had taken on a dark gray, almost black patina. It was an old building, for sure, but it looked to be in surprisingly good shape from the outside.
The door opened with no resistance and barely even a sound. I stepped inside, pausing for a moment while my eyes adjusted. The only light came from the large open doors behind me. Looking around, there were pews near the door, and a podium in the back. The pews were arranged in a semicircle around the center of the room with the preacher’s podium on the far side, leaving a large open space in the middle. Everything was in surprisingly good shape. The pews were dark and worn. The wood had taken on the same almost-black patina as the walls of the church, but with polished spots along the length of them where the churchgoers sat. I got a couple nice pictures of the sun’s rays beaming in through the door behind the pews.
It was a strange arrangement, having this much empty space in the center. Moving closer, I could see that the blackened wood floor was laid with each strip of flooring coming to an end in order to form a circle and a new piece continuing to the wall. It didn’t seem to have any purpose. The floorboards were just laid out in a way that traced out a circle. As far as I could tell, this was the only bit of pure decoration in the entire town.
I got down on my knees at the edge of the circle to try to get a picture of how it was made. The ends of the strips of wood from inside the circle butted against the ends outside the circle almost perfectly, without even enough space to collect dust. There were no nails, but it was fastened tightly. I held my phone out, moving it around to try to get the best angle to show how the floorboards came together, and a shadow passed over the door.
I froze, looking up at the still open door, waiting to see if something was going to join me in the church. The edge of a grayish-brown form brushed against the doorway, and I quietly scurried behind the podium for a little cover. I squatted down, making myself as small as possible behind the dark wood of the podium, only allowing one eye to peek out from safety. My muscles filled with energy and my nerves set a hair trigger, ready to run.
Something moved under the church.
The floorboards in the middle of the circle buckled up slightly, and the whole building shifted slightly under its force. I bolted. I ran fast and hard out of the church and into the store, where I rolled behind a window. Peeking out over the sill, I saw a grayish-brown shape crawl out from under the church and stand up. They looked to be about five and a half feet tall, wearing shoddy pants, a hooded cloak, and no shoes. The fabric of their clothing had taken on the same patina of the wood, but also carried enough sand to make it difficult to pick them out from the landscape. The skin of their bare feet was caked with sand as well, as if they’d rolled in a patch of wet sand and just let it dry all over them.
I stood up and waved, shouting, “Hey! Hey! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone lived here!” They looked at me, then turned and ran, disappearing behind one of the old houses.
Walking outside, I held my hands to my mouth as a makeshift megaphone, and shouted out, “Sorry! I didn’t know anyone lived here! Thanks for letting me stay! Sorry for the trouble!”
I turned and went back into the store to get my pack and leave. It had never occurred to me that anyone could have been living here. Everything was so old. It might have been kids from a neighboring ranch playing, but either way I didn’t want to stick around. Coyotes are one thing, but people, well… They’re just unpredictable.
I reached behind the counter to grab my pack and came up with a fistful of air. It was gone. I ran behind the counter, checked everywhere, and came up with nothing. They must have taken it. A feeling started to percolate in my gut, a tightness. I closed my eyes tight, trying to breathe through it, to let it lighten up, and then turned and walked back out the door.
I held my hands up to my mouth again, to help with projection. “Hey y’all… I need my pack. I got no problems leaving here, and I can pay you for any troubles I’ve caused. Honestly, I didn’t know anyone was here. If you just give me my pack I’ll be on my way.” I stood there for a long minute waiting for a response. Nothing.
“Shit.” My shoulders slumped.
I walked to side of the church where I had seen the person crawl out and found a small dug out tunnel that went under the church. A sizable rock sat next to it with a short trail in the dirt from where it had been pushed out of the way. I looked around, hesitating. I got down on my knees and peered into the hole. Light streamed in through the floorboards. My pack sat in a hollowed-out area beneath the center of the church. I could see my water bottles glinting in the light, hanging off my pack. I sat back on my heels for a minute.
“Goddamn it.” I cursed to myself, standing up and brushing off the dirt.
I walked around the church, checking for anyone else who might be nearby. At the front of the church, I paused to check inside before coming around to the tunnel again. I looked around, taking care to look for any patch of color that didn’t quite match the sand, and then I did what I had to. I got down on my hands and knees and started crawling into the hideout under the church.
It didn’t take long to get to my pack. I grabbed it and spun around back where I came. My hand found the sunlight pouring through the opening to the dugout just in time to see the rock pushed over it.
“No no no no…” I said as I scurried up against the rock, pushing with all my might. If I really laid into it, I could occasionally nudge the rock just enough to see that someone was out there holding it in place with their foot. “Hey! Hey, I’m in here! You can have the pack if you want, just let me have the water and I’ll leave you alone! I swear! I didn’t even know anyone lived here, it was an accident!”
Many footsteps echoed through the small cavern as people poured into the church above. “The Lord has brought us a blessing!” A dry, gravelly voice spoke from above me as I passed beneath the center of the church. “So many years of waiting since our betrayal at the hands of the unbeliever!”
My knees caught on a rock, tearing open a small wound. The sand and dirt mixed with the blood to form a clay poultice. I gritted my teeth and kept pushing, driving more and more clay into my leg.
“Quickly, now! Gather around, and we will complete our journey!” The voice declared, stepping into the center of the circle above me. “Quickly, while our volunteer is available!”
I grabbed the water off my pack and attached it to my belt loops, then leaned into rock and pushed hard. My effort met by equal resistance. The rock wouldn’t budge. The sun came in through a space where the rock didn’t quite fit in the hole. I put my fingers out, trying to get a hole on the rock to pull it aside. A flash of pain shot up my arm as a rock came down on them. I recoiled, cradling my hand. Nothing broken, but more blood dripped off of me into the sand.
The congregation above me began chanting in a language I didn’t recognize. More people joined, each selecting their own singular pitch. It was almost beautiful, a raspy choir forming the perfect chord. Overtones reverberated through the walls of the church, sinking into the sand below. The ground vibrated a tone in return, sending a wave back up into the church. I felt it move through my body each time, the congregation calling and the ground responding. It started to lodge itself in my lungs, vibrating as if I were about to hum along.
The ground beneath the rock was loose and a bit of it fell away. I started digging quickly, hoping to undermine the rock and pull it out from under my captor’s feet. The congregation changed keys and gained tempo.
The congregation reached their peak, and the ground responded with a deep vibrating tone. I braced myself between the floorboards and the ground below me, pushing clay into my wounded hand, as the entire landscape joined in resonance with the chanting above me. Everything was vibrating. The slats of the wood floor began to separate as dust and sand fell through them, and the circled floor began to twist in place. A bright darkness enveloped the space beneath the circle and the sand began to boil. The rock fell into my tunnel.
I took my opportunity, grabbing the rock and scurrying out of the dugout. A wet splotch slapped the ground behind me as I passed my captor, who had stepped back and was facing the church with his arms wide, looking past me. I ran hard, pushing my legs far beyond what I thought they were capable of, only looking back once. The church was encased in black as the ground was chewing through my captor. I held my glance long enough to meet the gaze of a single grotesque eye blurring into existence, its undulating iris filled with pupils deeper than should have been possible.
I ran hard, replacing the chain fence and once again completing the iron circle. I ended my hike early, coming home bruised and aching, but alive. There are mounds beneath my skin where the clay had worked itself in and never left, and I still have the rock they used to keep me down there. I was so focused on getting out I forgot to drop it. Every once in a while I can hear it humming on its shelf.

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Hello readers,
You can stash away your crucifixes, garlic belt, and wooden stakes. Our wild ride through Anne Rice's vampiric universe has concluded for this year with the fourth book. Time to bid adieu to our fang-tastic journey of provocative child spirits, supernatural British burglars, and our most volatile vampire in the history of undead drama!
This is the fifth and last check-in for The Tale of the Body Thief by Anne Rice, covering chapters 23 through the end.
If you would like to pass revue to our voyage go to the Schedule or the Marginalia.
Now that we've closed the chapter on this book, get ready for the grand finale – my ultimate summary that spills all the deets, twists, and dramatic twirls of this book:
Everyone: Lestat, no!
Lestat: Lestat, yes!
Or, if you’d like a more conventional summary of this section, you can find that below.
Huge shoutout to all you awesome folks who transformed this book chat into the vampire extravaganza we all need in our lives, with special thanks to u/??, whose discussions I was looking forward to each week.
See you all on the other side 📚🦇✨
Summary
Chapter 23
Queen Elizabeth 2.
Lestat wakes up to a sensing loom that David and Raglan had vanished. And indeed he finds all their lodgings empty. He finds the steward who tells him what happened: David fired shots at Raglan, but didn’t hit him. Raglan vanished and David was held in custody before being kicked off in Barbados.
Two security officers interrogate Lestat, but Lestat manages to charm them and interrogates them instead. David’s true identity has been uncovered and he was able to evade justice through the Talamasca and flew to Miami. He even gave a message for Lestat to meet him there at the Park Central Hotel.
Lestat takes some time to marvel at the ship and the stars (not like you have anything time-sensitive and of importance to do Lestat).
Chapter 24
Jungles of Venezuela
Instead of going after Raglan, or going to Miami as David has urged him to do, Lestat makes a little detour visit to Gretchen and marvels at the creatures in the Amazon rainforest. No time like the present to do this. Let Future Lestat deal with the consequences.
He discovers Gretchen in a Children’s hospital building at the mission, and Lestat gets PTSD vision of the hospital in which he found Claudia. Claudia’s voice taunts that he has come to kill Gretchen. A doctor discovers Lestat and he says he has come to visit Sister Marguerite and he leads him to her.
Gretchen is terrified of Lestat’s appearance and doesn’t believe it is him. The wads of cash Lestat throws in front of her doesn’t help convince her either. She tries to repel Lestat, calls him an unclean spirit, and then runs away herself. A faint “I told you so” from Claudia can be heard.
Lestat creates a heap of cash on the floor with the money he carries around then finds her again, praying in front of an altar with slashed open palms. Others gather around, calling it a stigmata and miracle.
Lestat leaves.
Chapter 25
Ancient temple in French Guiana.
Lestat continues his world trip to an ancient temple in French Guiana.
Monkeys are the only inhabitants of this abandoned temple, and Lestat watches them hustle around as he thinks of Gretchen and Claudia. As he breaks into the temple to sleep, he sees Claudia one more time, believing this will be the last time he sees her as his “dark damnation is forever intact” now.
Chapter 26
Miami.
Lestat meets with David and David explains what has happened while Lestat was AWOL.
David used the gun in self-defense, and Raglan escaped over the veranda. Then the Talamasca bailed him out. David looks exhausted, but doesn’t want to go with Lestat to his hotel room (that is something I generally agree with after this book). Lestat comments on the odd choice of drink, since David usually prefers Scotch. David chides Lestat for not coming earlier.
Lestat tells him of his visit to Gretchen and how his expectations were shattered. David confirms that Gretchen would not have made for a good companion. To Lestat’s surprise, David asks with red and weeping eyes to be made a vampire.
Lestat overflows with joy, not fully able to comprehend his fantasy has finally come true. Lestat’s attempt to elaborate on the decision is met with brash resistance, because David wants to do it now. No delay.
Something is off. David’s expressions are unlike himself. Lestat begins to suck his blood as images flood of memories past flood his mind. However, he gets an image of Raglan James and discovers that Raglan must have switched bodies with David.
Lestat throws him against the wall, and Raglan loses consciousness, warning him that this is still David’s body and he shouldn’t hurt it. Lestat too late realizes that he had damaged the head, and this body now was unfit to host David’s soul ever again.
As Lestat phones the Talamasca to explain the situation, he discovers David in the other body standing besides him, having heard every last bit of what Lestat just did. David ushers them away.
Chapter 27
Miami.
They drive to another hotel in Miami. David is surprisingly chill about the whole “a vampire destroyed my human body because of a temper tantrum” situation. David considers going to the hospital, and wonders if he has to die. He declines Lestat’s proposal to switch bodies, and then be made into a vampire, which should cure the brain injury. David explains what happened on the ship, again, this time from his perspective (Note: I had some trouble understanding the whole procedure, I hope this is correct):

1. Raglan knocks David out of his body
2. Raglan enters David’s body and tries to shoot Lestat
3. Next, Raglan tries to shoot the now soulless body
4. David enters the soulless body, afraid this is the only way to escape bodylessness
5. David karate kicks Raglan and escapes over the veranda

Security officers appear and take Raglan away, but he implicates David and David has to hide and then escape the ship at Bridgetown, surrounded by talkative English women. He puts on a disguise consisting of sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt (perfect disguise). He apologizes to Lestat for leaving him.
He gets picked up by a tourist cab driver, and spends the rest of the day sightseeing and walking around a botanical garden (every character in this book has skewed priorities, I swear). He is astonished at what he can do with his new body. Later he calls the Talamasca, and pieces together what Raglan had done, and instructs the Talamsca to pretend they are none the wiser (what can be done over phone without any other ID in this universe is unbelievable).
Chapter 28
Hospital, Miami.
They find out that David’s body was taken into Intensive Care and has died there. Lestat is worried about David’s reaction once this fact seeps in. However, David remains calm and explains that this is just Faust and now it’s done and they can’t change anything anyway.
Lestat is mostly sad that now David will never say yes to becoming a vampire.
David takes out his new fake passport with the name “David Talbot”, revealing to him that he never thought he would get back to his old body.
They visit the dead body.
Afterwards, Lestat proposes to buy David’s Estate, which will be inherited by David’s cousin. But David doesn’t really care. He feels as if he has been reborn, and doesn’t understand Lestat’s sentiment of feeling that he has lost David forever. Lestat however, sees that they are not compatible as long as they aren’t both humans or both vampires.
Lestat says he will be there for him if he needs to talk about what happens, but immediately scoots off.
David knows he could reach Raglan before Lestat, but he doesn’t, because he prefers the little vacation he has now, which Lestat totally understands (shocker).
They agree to go to the hospital together.
Part II - Once Out of Nature Chapter 29
New Orleans.
Two nights later Lestat returns to New Orleans and gets Mojo back from his daycare at the neighbor’s apartment.
While walking the dog, he stops at the building on Rue Royale, where he has an appointment with a contractor and orders a complete remodel of the house in 1890s French style.
Lestat goes into the old parlor and thinks about having to face the other vampires, and then grows angry again at their refusal to help him.
He then goes to the swamplands where he goes for a short night-sky-swimming session before bed.
Chapter 30
Planet Earth.
Lestat continues his globetrotting and first visits Georgetown. He finds the waitress and gives her an expensive rosary as compensation (not before intrusively asking her if she was pregnant though).
He then visits various cities in Asia, Europe, and Africa, trying not to kill unless absolutely necessary. He encounters nameless ones, but does not investigate further.
Chapter 31
New Orleans.
Lestat has been trying to lure Louis to him for the past 5 nights, and now he sits in the cathedral waiting for him.
When Louis finally comes he asks if Lestat was the one that burnt his house. Lestat skips the whole conversation gaming-logic style and goes from “can you blame me?” to “I was human anyway” to “wanna live together?”.
Louis asks if Lestat has forgiven him, and Lestat this time selects ALL dialogue options and says “I’m playing with you”, “I might destroy you”, “I don’t know”, and “are you afraid?”.
Louis tells him if he did, he would already be dead. Also, he believed Lestat would win, but didn’t know how.
Lestat admits that Louis was right about the experiment, that he didn’t really want to be human, he only wanted to see the sun and discover new things and clarity on who he wants to be.
Louis admits he was suffering Lestat’s absence and wished he would be more like Lestat (W H A T? Is another body thief impersonating Louis or something?).
Lestat wants to know if he would have refused to turn Lestat into a vampire if the others had destroyed his vampire body, and when Louis cannot answer, Lestat gets infuriated again and threatens to destroy him, but is unable to do so.
Louis asks Lestat to introspect about whether Lestat could just willy-nilly create another vampire, and then they kiss. Then Lestat leaves with Mojo, who must be as confused as I am about what just happened.
Lestat lights a candle in a chapel in his mind for himself.
Chapter 32
Lestat’s mind.
Lestat vaguely threatens the reader that the story is finished, and that they could regret reading the next chapter.
Chapter 33
Barbados.
Weeks have passed and Louis and Lestat have moved into the renovated flat. David had written to him stating he will be leaving for Rio soon.
David had gotten his possessions back (except, of course, his body). He still works for the Talamasca, but no longer as Superior General. He found the locket Lestat had been searching for. He now resides in Barbados.
He had not seen God or Devil again, though he spent some time in Parisian cafés searching. He asks Lestat to forgive him (why is everyone asking for Lestat’s forgiveness?) and asks if he will visit him.
Lestat finds David in a hotel, doing work on his computer in beach shorts (i.e. the 2020 edition of business casual). He (his words, not mine) inspects David for a bit before announcing his presence.
David is happy that Lestat has come, and admits that he cannot stand to be around the people in his previous life because they will never really know who he is. And he doesn't like to look at himself because it causes too much discomfort. But he feels that this is just an adjustment period that will pass.
For the past weeks, David has written about his experiences in the new body (another autobiography looming? Will Lestat and Louis tear it to pieces?).
Lestat immediately starts asking all too private questions about David's sex life. David says that although he has enjoyed a safari or two in the bedroom (you were right, Lestat, I am beginning to regret reading this), he has far more important things to do.
He wants to travel, learn, and decide what direction this new life should bring him. And he will write all about it. Upon asking Lestat if he regrets his “human adventure” Lestat says no. He asks what Lestat has learnt, and Lestat says he doesn’t know yet. However, Lestat wants to travel too.
Out of nowhere, Lestat decides that this is the time to force David to become a vampire because Lestat is evil and the devil, like in the play Faust (says Lestat). He says that David is like him and Claudia - and when he hears her name, David remembers that he has her locket and gives it to Lestat. It has a miniature painting of Claudia, and Lestat remembers that it belonged to Claudia's mother, and that he took it from her when he danced with her corpse (ah yes, that scene), and anti-climactically put it in a trunk afterwards and forgot all about it for centuries.
David urges Lestat to look at the picture and reconsider turning David into a vampire. Lestat throws the locket out the window as a response (my sympathies to the Talamasca file clerk, who probably spent days searching for it in the archives).
As David screams and cries not to do it, Lestat turns him into a vampire. All the while, he sees images of his time in New Orleans with Claudia and Louis. He provokes Claudia by saying he told her he would do it again, to which Claudia replies, "I never asked you. I'm dead."
He wakes up in the hotel room, David staring at him with unnatural vampire eyes. David appears to be dazed by his new senses, while Lestat lies paralyzed on the floor, weakened by the lack of blood.
Later he finds David in the water with the locket, his mortal body dying. Lestat helps him clean up and David swims out to a lone boat for his first kill. When he comes back, he asks Lestat why he did it.
Lestat stammers like a five year old child that discovered and ate all the sweets in the cupboard. “I don’t know why I did it” “I couldn’t NOT do it.” “I wanted to see what would happen if I did it”. David presses him further and says he did it because the body thief experiment went wrong. Out of pettiness and meanness. Lestat is overcome with shame.
Later on, David disappears and Lestat searches for him for days but can’t find him. He goes home to his house in Rue Royale.
He meets Louis, housewife style, arms crossed ("I know where you've been and what you've done"), and then the thing every cheater dreads happens: wife and side chick stand there, together, arms crossed. David is here.
And then he finds out that David has forgiven him, and he wants him to go to the carnival in Rio with him.
Lestat tries to make it clear that he is the leader of this coven and that he decides where they go, but David laughs. He says he tried to hate Lestat, but couldn't, because in the end he wanted to become a vampire, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. He thought this was Lestat's new attempt to die, but he was too enamored of his new existence to really regret it. He says that Lestat has not changed for David in his new vampire existence.
Lestat finds the locket on Louis’ desk. Upon looking at her face, Lestat realizes that his memory of Claudia has become that of a fever dream. He tries to say something to her, but realizes there is nothing more to say.
Links and notes

• Pop culture references:
  • Faust
  • Keats

Missionaries and Drug Dealers aren’t so different.
The Mormon proselytizer and meth making Walter White do the same thing - peddle salvation. The former from eternal torment and the latter from a present day hell. This is the story about how I went from a pious and insufferable missionary to a still insufferable drug dealer with a bad case of the munchies and why I’m never looking back.
No one will tell you this from a pulpit of your local church, but being a missionary is actually one of the easiest jobs in the world. Sure, you might need to live in a foreign country, learn a new language, and give up the dream of owning a BMW 507, but the day to day business of mission life? Piece of manna infused cake.
While serving in Southern Africa for 5 years, my team and I piled into a 1976 VW Golf and hit the road for 5 months at a time. We were what is called a “seed planting” ministry. It’s the kind of mission that doesn’t make any sort of altar call or utilize pressure tactics to get conversions. Our entire job description was simple: Dramatize gospel-centric scenarios, booking those “playdates”, and try to survive on faith alone.
As long as we were producing money to send back to HQ we were left alone. There was limited oversight into HOW we did what we did and minimal reward for our efforts. Our weekly stipend of $7 per week and the assurance that we were the few, the proud, the righteous was our only payment. As long as you were willing to galavant around the world in a shitty vehicle that was held together by duct tape and prayers, but mostly duct tape - you were welcome to join.
Churches? That was our Holy Bread and Butter. That’s where we focused most of our efforts, not because it was where we had the greatest impact but because the money was better. We preached to the literal choir while holding our hand out for the love offering. Living 100% off of the money we were able to produce while out in the field we were always looking for our next fix just to survive. Living in strangers' houses, taking leftovers whenever we could, and eating the cheapest food when we had to pay were all normal parts of the missionary life. So was something we called “steeplechasing”.
If and when we didn’t have a booking for a Sunday morning, we steeple chased. All of us would pile into the vehicle in our Sunday best and drive around to local churches, walk in and ask to speak to the Pastor. Moxy was the key to this hustle...you had to look like you owned the place and genuinely believe that you were offering this pastor the deal of his afterlife. If we were able to get that far we pitched the idea of them scraping their plans for that Sunday morning and letting us do the sermon instead. All we’d ask for is a love offering that ranged anywhere between $50-$500...talk about hitting the heavenly lottery!
What I didn’t realize until I was done drinking the Kool-Aid was that many mission organizations and churches do the very thing they claim drugs and drug dealers will do: Use, abuse, and exploit you for everything you have. The locust-like mentality of an organization that targets young and enthusiastic volunteers, pays them pennies while utilizing spiritual manipulation to get them to work 80 hours per week all in the name of the “Mission” is so common it’s openly celebrated. Oh, it’s called different things but at the core so many of these organizations use and exploit until either the volunteer breaks entirely or wises up and draws healthier boundaries by leaving. Those are often the outcasts, the ones who have “fallen’ or “backslidden” in their faith. The power dynamic between “spiritual leader” who financially profited off of well intentioned efforts of young and enthusiastic volunteers is a match made in purgatory.
Those that left were spoken about in hushed tones and every time you mentioned their name there was a palpable sense of mourning associated with those that were now defiled by their selfish lifestyle. The tell tale sign of an abusive company is how they treat those who leave. The founder of the mission group/cult was so dedicated that he believed that everyone who ever joined needed to stay until their dying day, and the covenant we made to the ministry (yep, there was a formal covenant ceremony after a whole 5 days of training/indoctrination that they held you to with a vice like grip) was more important than the covenant of marriage. The formal position of the ministry was that anyone could leave at any time, but when you saw how those who left were treated it was quite clear that they were now a second class citizen of the compromised believers.
Starting from scratch at age 30 with limited professional skills my professional and fiscal prospects were limited. But I didn’t turn to the fast cash grab of drugs, not yet. I was too busy scrambling to earn a living the honest way. I took a $10/hour warehouse job and started to learn what real sacrifice could look like. Working with people that I quite honestly detested and seeing how deep into my pockets Uncle Sam could reach I struggled to survive until the next paycheck.
It wasn’t a need for cash that led me to selling drugs. I eventually grew my skill set and got damned lucky a couple of times before I found myself earning more money than I could have ever imagined as a 9 year old. Hell, I was making more money than I thought I could ever earn when I was 29! It wasn’t money, it was the purpose that led me to selling drugs. Once I left the church and was baptized in the water of Mary Jane, I found a way to make a difference. I longed to offer something that was proven to make people’s lives better. The time for smoke and mirrors was over - I needed to smoke up my friends with crippling anxiety, chronic pain, and just plain old boring basic ass lives to find a form of salvation in weed.
Marijuana and her followers were there for me in a way the church community never was. When I went through a brutal divorce from the woman I met in the cult, I mean mission group, the kindest people to me were all regular users of weed. While the church wanted to compare their moral checklist the stoners and users of weed offered me kindness...and food. They understood the need for some salty snacks. Lost and alone, I needed relief from the abandonment and heartache I was feeling every day. Waking up, sobbing in bed - afraid to get up and face the world again I knew that there was some relief on the horizon. Making bargains with myself that I could at least get high as a kite that night was what got me out of bed and offered some semblance of functionality.
We’re all trying to self-medicate in some way. While some alleviate the pain of past trauma by becoming successful in their careers, others do it through the temporary escape from a world that’s done them dirty. I don’t believe that it’s the best way to self-medicate, but since when do all people get to choose the BEST option for their lives? Some of us learned long ago to not shoot for the stars, that was for the people that were lucky enough to grow up in stable homes and loving parents. That wasn’t my story and if is yours, I hope you appreciate it because most of us didn’t get so lucky.
I was shocked to find out how many people used weed. It’s everywhere. Everyone outside of the uber religious (and plenty of those fuckers use it too) was at least marginally familiar with it, if not using it on the regular. It was and continues to be even more popular than pumpkin spice and infinity scarves with basic white bitches.
Once I learned how easy it was to make a quick drive to Colorado and pick up some green, the rest was a no brainer. Seeing that there was an easy 2-3X profit on anything I picked up out there made it almost too easy to become a dealer. I started first with my old church friends, because that was just too ironic to pass up. If anyone on earth knows how to keep hidden sins to themselves, it's Christians. They may gossip about medium level transgressions, but holy moley do they clamp down tight on the doozies.
It started with a couple of very close friends. Then word got out that Andy had a hook up. People started coming to me that had suffered from chronic pain and panic attacks. They were all too happy to have something whose only side effect was a nasty case of the munchies and genuinely enjoying network television. Then more people started asking if I had anything on hand. Once I had to start telling them that I didn’t, I realized I couldn’t just sell my goods at a profit but should keep a stash on hand just in case.
I’d like to say that there was this bright shining pivotal moment when I made a clear choice to become Andy the drug dealer. But most big decisions don’t work that way. A series of small yet significant choices led me scheduling trips to pick up whatever was selling the most at the time. Before I knew it, I was fine tuning my operation to get trusted peddlers and offering them a cut of my profits if they’d do the actual selling. I’d created a spreadsheet to track how efficiently I could get the most bang for my buck while staying under the felony level of weed in possession at the same time.
The similarities between being a missionary and a dealer are so similar it’s shocking. But where they differ is the people you’re surrounded by constantly. In both settings people were coming to me with needs and I had some sort of answer, albeit an incomplete one. With drugs there was far less pretense and manipulation involved. All of the stories you hear about how the church thrived when it went underground suddenly made sense. Having some significant skin in the game makes all the difference. Just like I had been, many Christians or Churchians wanted a relationship where they gave as little as possible while pressuring others to give as much as possible. That’s the game.
With drugs there was some degree of mutually assured destruction and not just when we got blazed. Everyone knew that either one of us could really fuck the other person up should we so choose. And that is a good thing. That’s how we all stay honest. I get a decent profit for my efforts and risk and they get the hookup in a state that still thinks as if Leave it to Beaver is a normal household reality.
Most of my old church friends sing the same song - “What if people abuse the drugs I sell them?” I’ve seen everything from nicotine to refined sugar to the name of Jesus Christ himself be abused. The most egregious examples both personally and historically have been done in the name of God. If staying away from abuse is your hope then I can offer no better advice than this - stay the fuck away from most churches. Sit on your couch high as a raised crucifix all day watching Rick and Morty, if you do end up getting abused at least it’ll be by your own hand and won’t have your eternal fate leveraged against you.
Not all churches are bad - just like all drugs and drug dealers are bad. I’m not sure whether I’m good or bad anymore but I’m also not so sure that's even as important as I used to believe it was. I want good for all people. I want to help people. And I’m tired of the silly games that are required to be part of a faith community. The drug game and my friends in this culture have been good to me...so far. That’s why for now I’m sticking to peddling the more immediate kind of salvation and hoping I’ll figure the eternal stuff out along the way.

The champ’s workload does not stop. Bryan Danielson rematch announced for Battle of the Belts strap in.
​
AEW Battle of the Belts VI - April 7, 2023
Bryan Danielson vs. Kenny Omega (c) - IWGP United States Championship
It’s been an incredible night of action in Seattle thus far, but Washington state ain’t seen anything yet as this event could very well be AEW’s best yet, featuring a rivalry started all the way back at ALL OUT almost two years ago when Danielson interrupted Omega’s show closing promo. A pre-match video package details both men’s respective rises through the wrestling industry, starting with Danielson’s humble beginnings on ROH’s first show, quickly becoming a megastar with his reign with the ROH World Championship and cementing himself an indie legend in his travels, putting on countless classics in the ensuing years, before finally arriving in AEW after a lengthy, successful stint in WWE, capturing All Elite’s top championship, a dominant reign following. As for Omega, his road to superstardom began in small Canadian promotions, soon transitioning to Japan to live out historic runs in DDT and NJPW, the formation of The Elite rocking the wrestling world and a legendary rivalry with Kazuchika Okada cementing him as the Best Bout Machine, Kenny’s big crowning moments coming with his IWGP Heavyweight and AEW World Championship victories. Now, two of the greatest wrestlers to ever exist see their paths cross again, and this day shall be remembered.
With the crowd strapped in for a lengthy barnburner, it’s time for the challenger to make his entrance. The titantron lights up as Battle Cry trickles through the PA system, dressed in white tights. Cautiously walking to the ring, champy’s heart beats a mile a minute as he takes in the moment, looking to be a mix of nervous and prepared, having never beaten his foe thus far. Rolling his shoulders, he settles down in his corner, awaiting the arrival of his foe. But as the crowd settles down, expecting the adrenaline-pumping theme they’ve become accustomed to in the past couple years, a sound they haven’t heard be associated with this man in many years takes over, the triumphant tones of “The Final Countdown” by Europe winding back the clocks as it blares through the speakers. Wide, devilish grin on his face, out walks Bryan Danielson, arms spread and raised over his head. He’s sporting the old Seahawks attire, complete with matching kickpads and robe, though it’s evident this is a much more grizzled and world-traveled Danielson, arriving home as one of the best performers in AEW of 2023. He refuses to make eye contact with Kenny as he steps up to get in his face, brushing right past him to climb onto the turnbuckles and strike a pose. Cool as a cucumber, he hops down and hands his title over to the referee, before finally returning Omega’s gaze, ready to kick his head in.
The crowd buzzes with excitement, the two slowly approach each other, before Bryan spits on his hand and extends it, offering a handshake to Kenny – not only an homage to the Code of Honor he upheld when entering to that very theme, but a sly twist on it, referring to their very first singles match together back in PWG, when Omega did the same to Danielson. Only this time, Kenny is not the comedic DDT wrestler he once was, meaning business here, refusing to engage with Danielson’s antics as he watches the American Dragon wipe off his hand on the referee’s shirt with a smirk, knowing full well he’s triggered a memory Omega would much rather remain buried in the past. Nonetheless, as Bryan returns to the center of the ring, the two get down to action. Combined with respective insane cardio, neither man is lesser equipped for the bout, and it reflects after an opening sequence of tussling with a collar-and-elbow tie-up, each man trying to force the other into the ropes like each of their matches, only experience comes in the way of that, Bryan and Kenny understanding what the other has in mind, prompting Danielson to make the first move, breaking the lock-up to wring out Omega’s arm, Kenny immediately flipping through to counter the pressure, wringing out Bryan’s arm instead!
Now it’s Danielson’s turn to roll on the mat, enabling him space to unwind the anaconda-like grip, before turning back the pressure on Kenny to put the challenger in the hot seat again, gradually forcing him down to the mat as he steps on the inside of his knee, SUDDENLY EXPLODING WITH A ROUNDHOUSE KICK ATTEMPT! Bryan’s foot whiffs past Omega’s ear, only a hair length closer and it would’ve been Kenny’s brains spilled out on the mat, but the Cleaner is quick to his feet as Danielson’s momentum whips him around, Kenny bursting with a V-TRIGGER aimed at the champion’s skull, though it’s Bryan with a CARTWHEEL ESCAPE as Omega’s knee eats the rope instead, Kenny grabbing hold of them to stop his movement, only tilting his head to catch the American Dragon mockingly dusting off his hands, getting Kenny back for his showboating cartwheel in Arthur Ashe, Danielson rather enjoying himself keying away at the pandora’s box stashed away in Omega’s mind. Another lock-up is in order, Omega feeling desperate to prove that after all these years, he finally does have the one-up on Bryan in the technical exchanges that have historically opened their bouts, and so, he aggressively snatches a headlock once Danielson is close enough, grinding his chainsaw-like forearms into Bryan’s temple to aggravate the champion. Danielson makes a sprint for the ropes to free himself, though Kenny drops his weight down as the heavier of the two, bringing Bryan to a screeching halt onto the mat, forcing him to opt for other avenues, twisting around on the mat to wrap a headscissors around Omega’s neck, flooring him and breaking free!
Kenny kips up to wriggle free of Danielson’s grip, only to sprint into a headlock takeover from Bryan this time, who bashes a swift elbow over Omega’s head to pay him back, before squeezing his grip around Kenny’s neck, who attempts to use the headscissors reversal, though he’s denied by Danielson, who’d rather grab at Omega’s vulnerable arm, wanting to work it over. Kenny prevents it by tucking his elbow in and rolling Bryan over into a seated position as he performs a headstand to free himself, only for Danielson to shuffle back on the mat and wallop him in the face with a SLAP, Omega toppling over! Grabbing his cheek as he disdainfully eyes Danielson, who taunts him yet again with a lock-up, this time the Greco-Roman, taking another dig from their PWG encounter, Omega decides he’s had enough, slicing Bryan’s chest with a stiff Knife-Edge Chop! One of the more heavy-handed strikers, Kenny’s shot quickly leaves a welt forming on Danielson’s chest, the champion wincing through the pain as he sharpens up from the psychological breaking down to simply rock Omega’s dome with a European Uppercut, driving the jagged bone into Kenny’s chin, backing him up. Kenny spits the collecting saliva on the mat, before returning another stiff chop, Bryan returning in kind with the Uppercut once more, another round ensuing, only for Omega to boot Danielson in the gut, doubling him over, before whipping him at the ropes, waiting to check him with a shoulder block, though the crafty Bryan staggers him with a Flying Forearm Smash instead, dropping Omega to the mat! Rebounding off the ropes again, he bolts in with a PENALTY KICK attempt, Kenny rolling away at the last second, instead catching Danielson with a Low Dropkick to momentarily stagger him, a KOTARO KRUSHER awaiting, nailing the move he previously couldn’t! And a cover right away, Omega not wanting to waste a single opportunity, though only garners a 2 count, Danielson defiantly shoving him off.
Omega winds up for a Spinning Wheel Kick as Bryan finds his footing, but Danielson gets out of dodge, catching Kenny’s arm from behind to rapidly wring it out, before snapping it down over his shoulder in an armbreaker! Omega thrashes on the mat as he rolls away to safety to nurse the limb, but Danielson doesn’t let him get far, fishing out the arm once more to slam it down on the shoulder again, only this time not releasing, bringing Kenny down to the mat, bending his wrist to splay his hand on the mat, elbow pointing skywards, another common theme of their bouts, The Cleaner oft finding himself in this position. Though this time as Danielson rears for the elbow stomp, Omega snags his arm out from under his boot just in time, dropkicking out the leg again, before rebounding off the ropes to fully buckle the leg, a DRAGON RUSH attempt awaiting, Bryan rolling back through Kenny’s legs to trip him up, teasing a GERMAN SUPLEX, only to be tossed over Kenny’s shoulder, who winds up for the V-TRIGGER again, Danielson ducking, AND CATCHING HIM WITH A POISONED FRANKENSTEINER! Kenny dazed, Bryan applies a CHICKENWING, teasing completing the Crossface too with his other arm as ‘WOOP WOOP’ chants ring in the arena, but Kenny lights up, throwing back elbows that catch Danielson on his cheek to stumble him, Omega trying to run for the ropes, though the Chickenwing is still secured, Bryan tugging him back to dump him on the shoulder with a CHICKENWING SUPLEX! Kenny drops to the outside, his arm ultimately getting caught in Bryan’s cesspool of tricks anyway, shaking it off to ease the pain, but Danielson has other plans, hitting off the ropes, wanting a Baseball Slide Dropkick to the shoulder, only for Kenny to see it coming, sliding back inside the ring, where he tries for one too, though Bryan steps back and NAILS HIM WITH A SHOOT KICK AS HE SLIDES TO THE OUTSIDE!
Omega’s a little shaken with his back thudding off the floor, Bryan picks him back up to his feet, cracking him with another SHOOT KICK that drops him back on his backside, Omega trying to escape to some reprieve, but in comes a punch to the head, followed by a third kick to the downed Kenny, who clutches his chest as stinging sensations ripple over its surface, Danielson now wringing the arm out again, before planting the hand on the apron as he climbs up, Kenny still on his knees… AND HE WINDS UP FOR THE ELBOW STOMP AGAINST THE APRON! Omega’s not looking too great as the champion continues to pull ahead, smashing the arm against the apron, before tossing Kenny inside, where he taunts him for crawling around with only one hand’s support, kicking out the arm, before violently kicking his ribs! Turnabouts is fair play, he thinks, continuing to thrash Omega whilst he’s on his side, flicks of the boot seasoning the skin with bruises, and especially remembering to boot the shoulder region, Kenny forced to roll back out the ring to save himself from a beating. Danielson scoffs as he watches Omega struggle with the arm, on jelly legs as he attempts to regain his balance, prompting Bryan to line up and launch himself for a SUICIDE DIVE, KNOCKING OMEGA SHOULDER-FIRST INTO THE BARRICADE! Kenny barely held up by his own legs, arm splayed over the barricade, Danielson decides to go for seconds, winding up again, before launching himself… V-TRIGGER TO THE CHEST CATCHES DANIELSON AS OMEGA SIDESTEPS, BRYAN CRASHING INTO THE BARRICADE THIS TIME!
The champion a spluttering and wheezing mess, Kenny’s eyes widen in realization of what he just did, instincts kicking in to save himself from that one, proceeding to roll inside the ring as Bryan now catches his breath. Meanwhile, Omega is kneeled in the ring, the crowd drumming the barricade and stomping their feet rhythmically to the Terminator beat as the Cleaner gets ready to take flight, Danielson drunkenly finding his feet now, prompting Kenny to set off, bouncing off the ropes once, TWICE… but Bryan collapses again! Kenny’s forced to apply the breaks, though is quick to adapt, instead slingshotting himself onto the ropes as Danielson falls back into the barricade to help himself up, OMEGA LAUNCHING HIMSELF WITH A SPRINGBOARD ASAI MOONSAULT TO THE OUTSIDE, COVERING THE ENTIRE DISTANCE TO WIPE BRYAN OUT! Falling a little awkwardly on the arm though, Kenny takes a few moments to let the stabbing pain subside as the crowd goes nuts for the spot, Omega ultimately tossing Bryan back in rather than secure a countout, hitting off the ropes to blast him with a V-TRIGGER against the ear, before fishing him onto his shoulders, WANTING THE ONE WINGED ANGEL… BUT THE ARM CAUSES HIM TROUBLE, ALLOWING BRYAN TO ROLL FORWARDS AND SPIN INTO A SMALL PACKAGE! ONE… TWO… OMEGA REVERSES IT INTO ONE OF HIS OWN LIKE HOMECOMING!! 1… 2… BUT DANIELSON KICKS OUT AND SURPRISES KENNY WITH A SPRAY OF ELBOW STRIKES TO THE SHOULDER REGION, BEFORE CINCHING IN THE LEBELL LOCK!
Omega slips it, but Bryan maneuvers differently ow grabbing a CRUCIFIX HOLD, he goes ham on the region with ELBOWS, Kenny frothing at the mouth with each blow that erupts against his body, DANIELSON LOCKING IN CATTLE MUTILATION! OMEGA HAS NOWHERE TO GO! Kenny struggles in the hold, the ropes feeling like a lightyear away, and yet he still climbs with all his might, whilst Danielson resists as much as he can, though forced to release as he finds Kenny fingertips from the fibres, instead pulling him up for a BRIDGING DRAGON SUPLEX! 1… 2… NOOOOO! OMEGA’S FLOPPED TO HIS KNEES THOUGH, DANIELSON IN PRIME POSITION TO END IT RIGHT HERE! BUSAIKUUUUU KNEE KICK! BUT BEFORE DANIELSON CAN DIVE FOR THE COVER, WE HEAR THE RING OF THE BELL!!! ONCE AGAIN, THEY FIGHT TO YET ANOTHER LONGER TIME LIMIT DRAW!!!
Kenny Omega and Bryan Danielson fight to a time-limit draw in 60:00
Another fucking draw. Kirk?

TL;DR: I can't adequately summarize my thoughts. The post is in the form of bullet points, so browse through the headings and read only what sounds interesting. Feedback would be much appreciated.
[SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE MOVIE. I EXPECT YOU TO HAVE SEEN IT. IF YOU HAVEN'T, MOST OF MY NOTES WILL BE VERY HARD TO FOLLOW.]
So, I recently wanted to write a rather scathing review critiquing Emesis Blue, but felt that it'd be unfair to do so without first properly understanding the nuances of its plot and imagery. To make sure I have adequate knowledge of the film, I rewatched it multiple times and took extensive notes on everything that seemed significant.
The result of this are below. It's a list of observations and respective follow-up questions which I've compiled:
PLOT AND CHARACTERS:

• Copyright 1964: The Respawn Machine experiment tapes which we're shown at the start of the film are copyrighted MCMLXIV (1964 in roman numerals). But the soldier from Trial #002 looks like he's wearing a WW2 helmet, so maybe the footage consists of digitized film reels from much earlier? The earliest date we see in the film is the copyright on the respawn machine itself, 1960. But could this intro footage be suggesting that the Respawn Machine had been trialed long before the 60s, before Archibald and Blutarch had even met?
• VHS tapes weren't invented yet: The footage of the Respawn Machine looks like a VHS tape, and we later see Medic's collection of tapes, but VHS wouldn't be invented until 1976. Is this a deliberate hint towards the time-travel themes of the story, creative license due to TF2's retro-futuristic artstyle, or just an error on the part of the writer?
• 800,000 corpses: From Archibald's instructional video, we know that 10 death row inmates were found to be Respawn Compatible. In the phone call to Blutarch, he says they "lost 90% of the test subjects", which suggests they started out with 100 death row inmates, 90 of which turned out to be Respawn Incompatible and died. I doubt they managed to get 800,000 corpses from just 100 inmates. This, combined with a passing mention of a "pregnancy machine" makes me think that Archibald was running many other wacky experiments in parallel to the Respawn Machine ones - possibly involving cloning, if the vats full of frozen Soldiers in the Cryo Lab are anything to go by.
• Who can respawn?: In the whole film, we only see the Respawn Machine used once - Medic unsuccessfully trying to respawn Scout. But from the way the characters talk and other evidence, we can infer that a number of them have also been respawned at some point in the past. Scout suffered an accident while respawning and got brain atrophy before being fired by BLU, so he can definitely respawn. In Demoman's bar hallucination, Dell tells him that he saw his grandfather while respawning, so that's two confirmed. When he's about to die, Sniper says "see you on the other side", which seemingly implies that he knows what it's like being dead. As for Medic, he says he saw a Respawn Machine accident on the frontlines, but it's not clear if he himself has ever respawned. If anything, it seems like Medic is adept at operating the Respawn Machine - something which you wouldn't necessarily need to know if it was being used on you. We see multiple bodies of Soldier, but they are frozen in vats, and appear more like clones than corpses - so it's unclear if Soldier has ever respawned.
• The mercs' history with the Respawn Machine: Even though there's clear evidence of the mercs having a long history with Helix Technologies, none of them seem to know each other. If the film is implying that the 9 Respawn Compatible death row inmates are the iconic TF2 mercs, wouldn't they have met at least once before the events of the film? But no, everyone treats each other like strangers, so this can't be the case. I also find it hard to believe that Scout, who lives with his mother and looks to be in his early twenties at most, would end up on death row (where execution is typically preceded by a lengthy appeals process lasting many years) before being recruited for Archibald's scheme. And if he wasn't part of the initial 9 mercs, then how did Scout end up getting his job and being Respawn Compatible? Did BLU start hiring ordinary people and experimenting on them? How? There's no way they'd be able to do it legally with a 90% mortality rate.
• Soldier's WW1 hallucination: Medic claims to have seen a Respawn Machine accident "on the frontline", and Soldier tells Spy about his time wading through water in the trenches. Later, in what seems like a hallucination and/or flashback, Soldier sees the trenches; Medic is there, but also... Scout? Again, scout is way too young in 1968 - he's not old enough to have taken part in WW2, much less WW1. Maybe he could've been drafted for Vietnam, but that war didn't focus on trench warfare (and the flashback shows deep, reinforced trenches typical of the static frontlines of WW1). So was Scout actually there, or is Soldier's hallucination inaccurate, blending elements of the past and present?
• The polaroid photograph: Speaking of Vietnam, the polaroid photo which Soldier finds, the one showing Archibald shooting Soldier in the head, is a recreation of the real-life photograph "Saigon Execution". The original photograph shows the execution of Viet Cong captain Nguyễn Văn Lém, so I find it strange that in Emesis Blue's version, Soldier, an American, is the one being executed. Because, you know, the US was fighting against the Viet Cong. Is this supposed to symbolize Soldier's changing allegiance or something? Symbolism aside, looking at it purely from the perspective of plot, what is this suggesting? That Archibald executed some of the test subjects? It clearly has a strong impact on Soldier, given it flashes briefly on-screen when Agent Stemmons asks him "is there anything else you want to tell me". But why? Soldier had seen tons of crazy stuff up until that point, why would this polaroid be the thing to shake him?
• Was Archibald really kidnapped?: There are many scenes where Archibald seems relieved to see his men and asks them to rescue him, but when talking to Goldman on the phone, he says "Kidnapped? I don't know anything about that!" and seems mostly preoccupied with avoiding consequences for his war crimes. I've seen some suggest that the entire kidnapping plot was a ploy to get himself out of the public eye and avoid scrutiny. This seems to be supported by the fact that he deliberately blocked the demolition of the slaughterhouse, which implies he had plans to use it for something. But if that's the case, why is he so cooperative with his rescue? Why didn't he let BLU know not to look for him? And why would he be thrown into a dungeon and have his head scratched up if the whole kidnapping was fake? Plus, Sniper and Demoman seem to genuinely hate his guts, which lends credence to the idea that it's a real kidnapping. But then, why is he so casual on the phone? And the slaughterhouse cult is sitting on a mountain of incriminating evidence - if they hated him, couldn't they just release everything they have to the press, immediately ending his career? What are they trying to accomplish by holding him captive?
• Emesis Diazepam: In real life, diazepam is a drug used to treat a variety of conditions, but the one produced by Emesis Pharmaceuticals seems to have something far more sinister about it. In a separate video by Fortress Films, the drug's side-effects are said to be "drowsiness", "memory loss" and "visual/auditory hallucinations". This has led some to speculate that the hallucinations we see throughout the film are the result of the characters taking Emesis Diazepam. The issue with this is that Soldier explicitly says that even though it was prescribed to him, he never took any of it, so why does he still experience hallucinations and have no memory of any of the experiments he underwent? Additionally, Archibald himself is taking the Valium and starts suspecting that something is wrong with it. Why is he taking it? Why doesn't he know its true nature?
• The ordinary soldiers: Throughout the film, Jane Doe has repeated visions of much less cartoony-looking soldiers, similar to the ones we see in the Respawn Machine trials. He sees one hanged inside a cell in the dungeons. For a brief moment before rocket jumping across the chasm, he sees one standing on the other side. And finally, when he's shot and falls into the pit, the face of one of these soldiers fades into view before Doe emerges from the water. Who are these soldiers? Why do they keep appearing before Doe, who isn't taking the Diazepam and shouldn't be hallucinating? One of the polaroid photos he finds shows him in a line-up of these ordinary soldiers with a Medic in the background. Are they his former colleagues? Is he having flashbacks?
• The goddamn time travel: Ok, I have no clue how the time-travel in this story works. I understand that it's retro-causal and deterministic (a typical format for many time travel stories) - what I don't understand is how or why it triggers. The only rule seems to be that it happens during or around a hallucination. Soldier time travels after having his visions of WW1, Medic time travels when he hallucinates Scout's house, and finally, when exiting the slaughterhouse, Soldier is seemingly transported to the street where he sees himself in the car (is that a hallucination, or is he really there?). What can you influence once you've time-travelled? In the case of Medic, he can only push over some tapes and open a door before he instantly vanishes from the past and returns to the present. Soldier has the most direct interaction, being able to see, hear, and even throw a crowbar at himself from the future. In the final time travel scene, he sees himself for a brief moment before being snapped back to reality, similar to Medic. The main difference here seems to be distance in time - when Soldier gets hit by his own crowbar, he has travelled only about a minute into the past. In the other examples, the traveler has gone back several hours, seeing events that happened much earlier in the day. Why does this happen? What does this tell us about the Respawn Machine or other experiments in the slaughterhouse? What does this contribute to the story?(There also seems to be a continuity error in the final time-travel scene. When Soldier emerges from the sewers and onto the street, he sees Medic and Scout drive past in an ambulance, revealing behind them past-Soldier, sitting in his car. But if you watch the scene at the start of the movie, Medic and Scout only drive by him once Soldier has exited the car and lit up a cigarette. Is this an honest continuity error? Or a hint that what we're seeing isn't time travel?)
• The chair-and-helmet contraption: What does the chair with the wires do? It's behind Archibald in the "Respawn Compatibility" informational video, and we see it again when he's calling Goldman. My guess is that the chair is the device used on people to make them "Respawn Compatible" (on the 10% chance that they survive), but I have nothing to support that besides it being in the background of the informational video. After the Russian roulette scene, Soldier finds Archibald's body sitting in the chair with the helmet attached to his head. Who moved the body? Was it Spy? Why would he put it there?
• Dr. Ludwig and Mr. Hyde: I don't understand Medic's evil split personality. We know that he loses consciousness when it takes over (he injures a police officer and wakes up, surprised to find blood on his hands). Plus, Scout's panicked and disgusted reaction to seeing him strongly implies that he's the one who killed Scout's mom. Later, Medic even repeats the "holding someone's head around a corner" trick against Sniper, all but confirming that it was him. But this would also imply that Medic's evil alter-ego is in cahoots with the slaughterhouse cult, because the masked Pyro is also in Scout's house at the same time. It almost looks like a coordinated attack (Medic kills Scout's mother, Pyro captures Scout). So why does he have to be lured to the slaughterhouse to save Scout, and why does he kill the Conaghers, Pyro and Sniper so casually when he was presumably working with them at some point?
• The phone calls: It's unclear who makes the cryptic phone calls to Scout, Medic and Soldier. The call to Scout just seems like pointless intimidation, while the later calls to Medic and Soldier feel like an attempt to lure them to Conagher Slaughterhouse (especially with the obvious writing on the wall and the key slid under the door). But why? Who would benefit from bringing Dr. Ludwig there? And how did they get a chance to record private conversations between Medic and Scout? Did they bug the office and ambulance?
• Why kidnap Scout?: The above two points become even more confusing when you ask yourself: why was scout kidnapped and locked inside a coffin in the first place? The Conaghers have no qualms about shooting him and torturing him to death once he escapes, so why did they go through all the trouble to have him kidnapped and delivered to the slaughterhouse? Why wasn't he simply killed alongside his mother? And once they have him in the coffin, what then? What do they do with him? What do they need him for?
• Why not kill the Spy?: The slaughterhouse gang seems to hold some kind of grudge against Spy. The Pyro puts a lot of effort into capturing him alive - shooting him in the leg and bringing him to a torture chamber instead of just killing him. Meanwhile, Soldier gets fired on with sniper rifles, SMGs and even a rocket launcher. There's clear intent to kill - they want to off Soldier and capture Spy. But why? To extract information? To take revenge on Spy for being Archibald's right-hand man?
• Regeneration and other abilities: Most of the characters in the film seem to have supernatural abilities. Medic can literally regenerate from death. One of the Conaghers has no eyes, but can still see. Demo has a gaping open wound where his left arm was torn out, but doesn't bleed (with no visible bandage or tourniquet). Pyro can seemingly concentrate fire into his hand - not to mention he survives three shots to the chest, getting set on fire, two shots to the head, and only dies once decapitated. For contrast, this is a universe where Heavy, the tankiest class in the game, dies from a single revolver bullet to the chest. It's clear that most of these people have something very abnormal going on with their bodies. Are these side-effects from the Respawn Machine or being Respawn Compatible? Or is this the result of some other experiment?
• "Dustbowl is gone": I don't know what to make of the call between Dell and one of the Conagher brothers. I don't understand the significance of "Dustbowl is gone" or the little brother which Conagher is so concerned about. I guess it could be implying that the war between Blutarch and Redmond is continuing on other fronts, but I'm unsure why this is important to establish.
• Zombies: Oh, yeah, and this film has zombies in it! Guarding an ammo stash upstairs, there are zombies of every class besides Medic, Spy and Demoman. Does it mean anything that those three classes are absent? What are they? Do they tie into the Respawn Machine, or are they some other failed experiment? Shouldn't Soldier be more freaked out about fighting a monster with his exact face on it?
• Is the Plague Doctor real?: Ok, so for most of his appearances, I simply assumed that the Plague Doctor was symbolic and/or a hallucination, not an actual person. But there is one scene where he seems very non-metaphorical - when he holds Spy at gunpoint and takes the briefcase, then drives away in the stolen hearse. What's up with that? An entity that had previously only appeared in vague hallucinations is physically interacting with the characters in one scene, and this one scene only? Why?
• Places that shouldn't be real, but are: The Conagher Slaughterhouse is full of impossible architecture and surreal locations that make no sense, but are seemingly real. The YouTuber "Great Blue", in trying to turn the film into a playable map, pointed out that the elevator on the upper floor clips straight through the room below it and the sewers. So it's not real, right? But no, Medic, Demo and Soldier all climb into it and use it to descend to the dungeons. There is an entire underground church right next to the Respawn Machine and a meeting room full of skeletons wearing suits. It'd be easy to dismiss these bizarre places as hallucinations, but the mercs genuinely battle each other there. When Soldier shoots his shotgun at Sniper in the conference room, we see some of the skeletons get hit by the pellets. Pyro breaks the confessional in which Medic is sitting and during the ensuing fight, we can see that the pews in the background are still there. If these things are hallucinations, why can multiple people see and interact with them? But ok, at least the massive tunnel of bodies into which Soldier descends isn't real, right? I mean, how on earth would any of it fit under the slaughterhouse, and why would there still be trucks down there, hauling the corpses? But no, it is real, because masked Heavy follows after Soldier and pushes one of the trucks out of the way. So is that entire sequence supposed to be literal? 800,000 corpses are literally arranged into a helix pattern inside a huge, glowing red pit under the slaughterhouse? And yes, the corpses are also real, because Soldier takes a rocket launcher from one of them and uses it later. And remember, Soldier said he wasn't taking the Diazepam, so he shouldn't be hallucinating. So which parts of all that are real, and which aren't?
• The funeral: In the funeral scene, there's tons of questions. How did Medic escape the ruins of Conagher Slaughterhouse and get inside Archibald's coffin? Why is the Plague Doctor standing among the fleeing attendees? What was the goal of Medic's rampage? To take revenge on Spy? Revenge on the entirety of Builder's League? WHERE ON EARTH DID SOLDIER GET THE BRIEFCASE FROM, AND WHY DOES HE GIVE IT TO MEDIC?
• The final respawn: In the final shot of the film, we see Medic's silhouette emerge from the respawn machine, completely engulfed in flames. But why? Medic can regenerate from death, why would he respawn? And where is this respawn machine? The one under the ruins of Conagher Slaughterhouse should no longer work, and even if it did, the fire would certainly have gone out by now. So what, is the entire final shot of the film metaphorical? Symbolic? Am I supposed to conclude that Medic is in Hell?

SYMBOLISM:

• Christianity: In the world of Emesis Blue, the Medic is a Christian (not sure what denomination). I'd guess that in most of Europe and America, Christian imagery is generally associated with piety, modesty and holiness. In the confessional where Ludwig is given a crucifix pendant, he also finds the Solemn Vow bust, whose engraving is a reference to the Hippocratic oath. This seems to frame Medic as quite "pure of heart" - there's a deliberate attempt to highlight his well-meaning beliefs and noble profession, and contrast it with the violent acts he's committing. What this means or why it's being focused on, I don't know.
• Plague Doctors: Plague doctors are, of course, associated with sickness. Their iconic beak-shaped masks were adopted to deal with outbreaks of the bubonic plague, which was highly lethal (they didn't call it the Black Death for nothing). With their primitive, 16th century medicine, these doctors acted much more as harbingers of doom than saviours. I believe the Plague Doctor symbolizes the dark impulses which Medic represses - it's the visual embodiment of his evil split personality. My only real evidence is the scene where Medic is unconscious after his evil self fought the policeman to escape Scout's house. He dreams that he's locked in a coffin, with the Plague Doctor watching over him, which could represent his other personality getting the upper hand and locking him away. That's my best guess, anyway.
• Helix: Helix Technologies is named after a helix - a spiral / corkscrew shape. We see the same shape in the Emesis Pharmaceuticals video, which I read as some sort of link between the two companies. The most immediate association I have for a helix is the "double helix", the shape of human DNA. Could this be alluding to a genetic component to the Respawn Machine experiments? A spiral could also be associated with loops or repetitions, which ties into the time travel elements of the story.
• Chess: I noticed two scenes with clear chess imagery. When Scout is being terrorized in his home, one shot prominently displays a chessboard with a small, blue pawn (right in front of Scout), surrounded by 5 red pieces - two Rooks (the Conagher brothers?), one Bishop (the sniper?), a Queen (???) and a King (???). We also see chess in Soldier's hallucination, where Medic is sitting in the trenches, playing a match against the Plague Doctor.
• Colours: Red and blue are obviously very significant to TF2, distinguishing the two teams. But more broadly, red is a colour associated with danger, aggression and passion (it's the colour of blood), whereas blue has much softer connotations, being the colour of the sea and sky. Adding to this, the RED team have been the POV characters in almost all TF2 media, dominating BLU team and creating the general sense that they are more competent. So to have Medic, Soldier and Scout be working for Builders League in some capacity while sporting the BLU team colours immediately frames them as far more vulnerable than we're used to seeing them. Red also seems to be used to emphasize Medic's split personality. When he's about to pass out in Scout's house, his eyes shift between being tinted red and blue, showing that his murderous self is about to take over. A similar shot which colours one of Medic's eyes red happens before his fight with the Conaghers. Finally, blue is the colour of Emesis Pharmaceuticals, including the Emesis Diazepam bottles, and red is the colour of the helix of corpses we see in the Emesis Pharmaceuticals video, the basement Soldier descends into, and inside the glow of the briefcase. What does any of this mean?
• Theatre: After killing Pyro with his axe, a spotlight shines onto Medic and an audience appears, bursting into applause, implying that there is an element of acting or performance to the story. I have no idea what this is trying to communicate, because as far as I can tell, theatre imagery doesn't appear anywhere else in the film.
• Mannaz: When Pyro breaks the confessional and grabs Medic by the neck, he presses his burning hand against his face, branding the Old Futhark rune Mannaz (ᛗ) onto his right cheek. From what I can tell, it just means "man". The symbol is quickly covered by Pyro's blood when Medic decapitates him. The axe Pyro uses is also an old-timey Nordic axe, so maybe that's related? Really not sure what to make of all this.
• The Medigun: Yes, Medic's iconic primary weapon, TF2's most powerful source of healing. It's in the film and does almost nothing. The thing gets broken in the second scene it appears in, and after that, the only notable thing it's used for is... electrocuting the RED Medic. I feel like there's some sort of dark irony here: the Medic's best tool for healing never heals anyone, and is only used to hurt someone. Poetic.
• References: The film is really eager to show off the author's horror nerd cred. It's full to the brim with direct references to Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining", including some shot-for-shot recreations. Masked Heavy is basically Tyrant from Resident Evil 2 remake (roaring "Builder's League" similar to how Nemesis from Resident Evil 3 roars "S.T.A.R.S.") - there's even a scene where he's about to enter the elevator but is stopped by the Scout monster, similar to a scene in RE2 remake's Claire B scenario. Apparently, the line "it's eternity in there" is also a reference to a Stephen King novel. I've never watched "The Shining" or read Stephen King, so I really can't tell if these references have some deep symbolic meaning, or are here just as a cheeky wink and nod with no consideration for how it fits into the wider story. One recurring reference that seems very significant, specifically to Medic's character, is Hans Beckert's 1931 German thriller film "M". The film itself appears in the story (Scout literally watches a portion of it), and the M symbol from the film's poster repeatedly appears on walls. I haven't taken the time to watch "M", so maybe it has some deep parallels with the story of Emesis Blue - I wouldn't know.

TOTAL SPECULATION:

• Soldier's military career: It's unclear how closely the film adheres to TF2 canon. While almost everything was changed, a few details were kept. The names, for example: Medic is still Dr. Ludwig, Scout is still Jeremy, Soldier is still Jane Doe and the Engineer is still Dell. This has led to some speculation around whether the Emesis Blue version of Soldier also faked his military career, never actually seeing war. I believe that Emesis Blue tries to characterize Soldier as a real veteran. Even while doing something completely crazy, his demeanor seems more measured and deliberate, as if he knows what he's doing. Medic's line about seeing a Respawn Machine accident on the frontlines also feels a bit too deliberate, like it's specifically there to corroborate what we see in Soldier's hallucination.

CONCLUSION:
My critique of Emesis Blue was going to boil down to this: "there is no possible explanation that can account for all of these elements". No cohesive story with interesting themes and messages can hide behind a film so overflowing with dozens of vague and seemingly conflicting ideas. Chad Payne is using ambiguity and "being mysterious" to hide the fact that his story makes no bloody sense - he's using cryptic clues to make people feel there's a bigger picture they're missing, when in reality it's all nonsense.
But all of that is an assumption - I might be missing something. I might just be too stupid to understand the deep meaning of this story. Which is why I'm posting here - I want you to point out everything I've missed, everything I've mis-interpreted, and give me your best theories regarding these points of contention.
If you took the time and effort to read this far, thank you. And thank you even more if you decide to add your own two cents to the discussion.

Hello All,
Selling my entire collection (3k+ records) to pursue the dream of cycling from Alaska to Argentina later this year, a two-year journey! Leaving home next weekend, so most everything has been discounted to $10-20.
Shipping from AZ, USA. Cheapest domestic postage is $5 for USPS Media Mail plus $1 for each additional LP. PM your request with email address and I'll invoice in order of receipt via PayPal G&S. Graded (disc/sleeve) conservatively in accordance with Goldmine Standard.
Notorious B.I.G. & Faith Evans - King & I - VG+/VG+ - $15
2017 2xLP collection.
(Analog Africa) Voz Di Sanicolau - Fundo De Marê Palinha - NM/NM - $20
Amazing Cabo Verde Funaná 10", still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Awakening - Mirage - M/M - $20
Black Jazz classic, 2021 Zia reissue on orange & black swirl vinyl, sealed w/ promo sticker.
The Band - S/T (1969) - G+/VG - $15
1969 press.
The Band - Moondog Matinee - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1973 first press.
The Band - Northern Lights, Southern Cross - VG/G - $10
OG 1975 first press.
The Band - Stage Fright - VG/VG - $10
OG 1970 EU press.
Jon Batiste - Anatomy of Angels - M/M - $20
Sealed, live at the Village Vanguard, he won the Album of the Year Grammy last year and is a musical treasure.
Chuck Berry - London Sessions - G/VG+ - $5
2xLP classic.
Big Bill Broonzy - S/T (1970) - VG/VG - $10
OG Archive of Folk Music collection, blues classic.
Big Bill Broonzy - Midnight Special - NM/NM - $20
Live in Nottingham, 1957. Numbered VMP reissue on pink coral vinyl, opened but still in original sleeve with promo sticker.
Big Brother & the Holding Company - Cheap Thrills - VG/VG - $10
Janis Joplin classic, 1980 stereo reissue.
Bohannon - Bohannon Drive - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1983 first press.
Bohannon - Gittin' Off - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1976 first press.
James Booker - Classified - M/M - $15
Numbered VMP reissue on taupe splatter colored vinyl, still sealed, for fans of NOLA jazz and Stevie Wonder.
James Brown - Thinking About Little Willie John... - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1968 first press.
James Brown - People - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1980 first press.
James Brown - Today & Yesterday - G+/VG+ - $10
OG 1965 first press, stored in poly-lined sleeve.
James Brown - Can Your Heart Stand It - VG/VG - $10
1981 collection.
James Brown - Sings Out of Sight - VG/VG - $10
1968 stereo reissue.
James Brown - Try Me! - VG+/VG+ - $25
1988 European mono reissue.
James Brown - Prisoner of Love - G/G - $10
1966 mono repress, split top & bottom seams.
Tim Buckley - Goodbye & Hello - VG/VG - $10
1969 reissue.
Mojo Buford - Mojo Workin' - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on yellow vinyl, new/unplayed.
Captain Sky - Concerned Party #1 - VG+/VG+ - $10
P-Funk classic, OG 1980 first press.
Gene Chandler - There Was A Time - VG+/VG+ - $15
Stereo repress.
Ray Charles - & Betty Carter - VG+/VG+ - $10
1988 reissue on clear vinyl.
Sam Cooke - One & Only - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1967 stereo press.
Joe Cuba Sextet - Breakin' Out - VG+/NM - $15
Latin jazz classic, reissue, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Miles Davis - Seven Steps To Heaven - VG/VG - $30
OG 1963 first press.
Miles Davis - Sketches of Spain - VG+/VG+ - $15
Stereo reissue.
Miles Davis - Quiet Nights - G/VG+ - $10
OG 1964 first press.
Delta Spirit - What Is There - VG+/VG+ - $15
2020 album, for fans of Black Pumas.
Doris Duke - Woman - VG/VG - $30
OG 1975 first press, all time old soul classic, for fans of Sharon Jones.
George Duke - I Love the Blues, She Heard My Cry - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1975 first promo press.
Bob Dylan - Greatest Hits - VG/VG+ - $10
1967 collection, reissue.
Bob Dylan - Self Portrait - VG/G+ - $15
OG 1970 first Canadian press, 2xLP.
Bob Dylan - Rare Batch of Little White Wonder (Vol. 3) - VG/VG - $15
Rare 1977 unofficial collection.
Bob Dylan - Visions of Johanna - VG/VG - $15
Rare 1975 unofficial press.
Bob Dylan - Shot of Love - VG/VG - $10
OG 1981 first press.
Bob Dylan & the Band - Before the Flood - F/G - $10
OG 1974 first press, 2xLP.
Bob Dylan & the Band - Before the Flood - F/VG - $10
1983 reissue, 2xLP.
Eagles - On the Border - G+/G+ - $10
OG 1974 first press.
Electric Flag - American Music Band - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1968 first press, Buddy Miles blues rock classic.
EmoniFela - Daycamp for Dreamers - NM/NM - $5
Numbered Vinyl Me, Please edition on yellow vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, for fans of NoName (rap).
Ethel Ennis - Live at the Maryland Inn - G+/G+ - $20
OG 1980 first press, autographed back cover, some water damage.
Ethel Ennis - This Is - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1964 first press.
Betty Everett - Woman With Soul - M/NM - $20
Rare 1977 collection still sealed in shrinkwrap.
Les Fantaisistes D'Haiti - S/T (1971) - VG/VG - $20
OG 1971 first French press, excellent Haitian compas.
Fever Tree - S/T (1968) - VG/VG - $10
OG first press, rare psych.
Roberta Flack - Quiet Fire - VG/VG - $10
OG 1971 first press, soul jazz classic.
Tommy Flanders - Moonstone - NM/NM - $10
Rare 1969 loner folk, 2006 Russian reissue, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Foxygen - Take the Kids Off Broadway - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 2013 first press.
Aretha Franklin - Soul '69 - VG/VG - $10
OG 1969 first stereo press.
Aretha Franklin - Hey Now Hey (Other Side of the Sky) - VG/VG - $10
OG 1973 soul jazz classic.
Aretha Franklin - Sparkle - VG/VG - $10
OG 1976 soundtrack, produced by Curtis Mayfield.
Frank Ocean - Channel Live - VG+/VG+ - $30
Purple cover, pink & orange swirl colored vinyl, 2xLP unofficial press.
Funk Inc - Chicken Lickin ' - G+/G+ - $10
OG 1972 first press, rare funk classic.
Marvin Gaye - In Our Lifetime - VG+/VG+ - $10
1981 classic.
Goldberg - Misty Flats - NM/NM - $10
Rare 1974 loner folk, Light in the Attic reissue, includes obi strip & insert booklet.
Al Green - Truth N' Time - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1978 first press.
Al Green - Is Love - VG/G+ - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Al Green - Green Is Blues - G/VG+ - $10
1972 stereo reissue.
Françoise Hardy - S/T (1963) - VG+/VG - $30
Rare Japanese press, all time classic, for fans of Moonrise Kingdom film.
Eddie Harris - Excursions - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1973 2xLP first press, groovy soul jazz.
Eddie Harris - Silver Cycles - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1969 first mono press, white promo labels.
Eddie Harris - Instant Death - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Isaac Hayes - Black Moses - VG/VG - $15
2xLP with classic fold-out crucifix jacket.
Hendrix - Jimi - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Hendrix - In the Beginning - VG+/VG+ - $10
Rare 1972 collection.
Hendrix - Loose Ends - VG+/VG+ - $10
Rare 1975 French collection.
Hendrix - Crash Landing - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Hendrix - Rare - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Hendrix - Cry of Love - G+/VG - $10
OG 1971 first press.
Hendrix - War Heroes - VG/VG - $10
OG 1972 French press.
Hendrix - Good Die Young - VG/VG - $25
Rare Japanese unofficial 2xLP, unreleased live recordings.
Hendrix - In the West - VG+/VG - $15
OG 1972 first press.
Little Richard & Jimi Hendrix - Together - VG/VG+ - $10
1973 reissue.
Little Richard & Jimi Hendrix - Friends from the Beginning - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Scott Hirsch - Blue Rider Songs - NM/NM - $15
2016 first press, for fans of Kurt Vile.
Loleatta Holloway - Cry To Me - NM/NM - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on dark green vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, rare old soul.
James Hunter Six - Nick of Time - NM/NM - $20
Limited mono press on clear & orange splatter colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, for fans of Sharon Jones or Charles Bradley.
Isleys - Brother, Brother, Brother - G/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Isleys - Live It Up - VG/VG - $10
1974 funk classic.
Ivey Sole - Overgrown Live - M/M - $20
Numbered Vinyl Me, Please edition on blue vinyl, still sealed in original sleeve with promo sticker, for fans of NoName (rap).
Rick James - Cold Blooded - G/VG - $10
OG 1983 first press.
Rick James - Throwin' Down - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1982 first press.
Etta James & Eddie Vinson - Late Show - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1985 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Jethro Tull - Thick As A Brick - VG+/VG+ - $25
1977 Japanese reissue.
Andrés Jiménez & Grupo Mapeyé - El Jibaro - VG+/VG+ - $25
OG first Puerto Rican press, beautiful folk rarity.
Elton John - Honky Chateau - G/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press, envelope gatefold jacket.
Rudolph Johnson - Second Coming - M/M - $20
Black Jazz classic, 2021 reissue on clear & black swirl colored vinyl, sealed w/ promo sticker.
Rudolph Johnson - Spring Rain - NM/NM - $20
Black Jazz classic, 2021 remaster on orange & black swirl colored vinyl.
Sharon Jones - Soul of A Woman - NM/NM - $15
Opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Caleb Landry Jones - Mother Stone - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP press on splatter vinyl, actor from 'Get Out,' for fans of Tom Waits, still sealed with promo sticker.
Quincy Jones - I Heard That - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1976 2xLP first press.
Quincy Jones - Sounds & Stuff - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1978 first press.
Quincy Jones - The Dude - VG/VG+ - $5
OG 1981 first press.
Margie Joseph - Makes A New Impression - VG/VG - $10
German press, 1971 soul classic, tactfully taped top & bottom seams.
Margie Joseph - Phase II - VG/VG - $20
1971 German press, Stax soul classic.
JPQ - Quintessence (1983) - M/M - $20
HHV exclusive on 180G colored vinyl, funky jazz rarity, still sealed.
Junior Mesa - Cirque Du Freak - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP press on colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker, groovy indie/funky for fans of Still Woozy.
Kaina - Next To the Sun - M/M - $15
Limited 2019 press on pink vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - You Should Be Here - M/M - $20
2021 reissue on pink, purple & blue colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - While We Wait - M/M - $20
2021 reissue on lava colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - While We Wait - M/M - $20
2019 press on classic black vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kings of Convenience - Declaration of Dependence - VG+/VG+ - $30
OG 2009 first European press, indie acoustic/folk for fans of José González.
King Curtis - Get Ready - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1970 first press, soul jazz classic.
Roland Kirk - Left & Right - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1969 first press, white promo labels, amazing free jazz for fans of Coltrane & Sun Ra.
Gladys Knight & the Pips - Gladys Knight - VG/VG - $30
OG 1965 first mono press.
Frederick Knight - I've Been Lonely for So Long - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1973 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap, Stax soul classic, upper left corner cut.
Lady Wray - Piece of Me - M/M - $25
Big Crown exclusive on pink & purple splash colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker, for fans of Durand Jones.
Lando Chill - Spoke to the Wind - M/M - $15
Still sealed in shrinkwrap, purple splatter colored vinyl.
Lando Chill - Black Ego - M/M - $15
Still sealed in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, black smoke colored vinyl.
Denise LaSalle - Trapped By A Thing Called Love - G+/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
The Lasso - 2121 - M/M - $15
Amazing neo R&B on purple splatter vinyl, for fans of the Internet, via Mello Music Group, still sealed.
Leadbelly - Sings & Plays - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1962 first press on red vinyl.
Le Ren - Morning & Melancholia - M/M - $10
Numbered press on white vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker, for fans of Phoebe Bridgers.
Charles Lloyd - Forest Flower - VG+/VG+ - $20
1968 second press, classic soul jazz.
Preston Love & Shuggie Otis - Omaha BBQ - VG+/VG+ - $15
2014 reissue on green vinyl, amazing soul jazz classic.
Machito & His Orchestra - Soul Source - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1966 first press, Latin jazz classic.
Ella Mai - Time Change Ready - NM/NM - $30
Unofficial 2018 2xLP on marbled clear blue vinyl.
Mary Jane Girls - Only for You - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1985 first press.
Barbara Mason - Give Me Your Love - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Barbara Mason - Lady Love - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1973 first press.
Barbara Mason - Transition - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1974 first press.
Paul McCartney - Tug of War - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1982 first press.
Paul McCartney & Wings - Liverpool Live - VG/VG - $25
Rare live collection.
Paul McCartney & Wings - Over America - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1976 first press, 3xLP.
Paul McCartney & Wings - Over America - G+/VG - $10
OG 1976 first press, 3xLP.
Paul McCartney & Wings - London Town - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1978 first press.
Jimmy McGriff - Black & Blues - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1974 first Canadian 2xLP press, groovy soul jazz classic.
Blake Mills - Mutable Set - M/M - $20
Still sealed, indie/folk rock for fans of Dawes.
Mississippi Sheiks - Complete Works Vol. 3 - VG+/VG+ - $40
2013 press on orange vinyl, archival 1930's blues.
Moby Grape - Grape Jam - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1968 first press, classic psych.
Jason Molina (Songs: Ohia) - Eight Gates - M/M - $20
Secretly Society press on blue vinyl, still sealed, for fans of Elliott Smith.
Monomono - Dawn of Awareness - VG+/VG+ - $20
Amazing 1974 African psych from Joni Haastrup, 2011 Soundway reissue.
Van Morrison - Spawn of the Dublin Pubs - VG+/VG+ - $25
Rare 1974 unofficial collection, Trademark of Quality press.
Van Morrison - Tupelo Honey - VG/VG - $20
1973 reissue with Burbank labels.
Van Morrison - Into the Music - G+/VG - $10
OG 1979 first press.
Van Morrison - Hard Nose the Highway - VG/VG - $10
OG 1973 first press.
Van Morrison - Astral Weeks - F/VG+ - $10
OG 1968 2nd press, green labels.
Van Morrison - A Period of Transition - VG/VG - $10
OG 1977 first press.
Van Morrison - His Band & Street Choir - VG/VG - $10
Reissue with Burbank labels, gatefold.
Van Morrison - His Band & Street Choir - VG+/VG+ - $15
1978 reissue.
Them - Roots - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1976 UK press.
Them - Backtrackin' - VG/VG - $10
Rare 1974 collection.
Namir Blade - Traveling Circus - M/M - $20
Purple & yellow splatter colored vinyl, still sealed.
Nas - Lost Tapes 2 - M/M - $20
Still sealed with promo sticker, 2xLP.
Nine Inch Nails - Hesitation Marks - VG+/VG+ - $30
2013 180G 2xLP reissue, stored in poly-lined sleeves, CD not included.
Daniel Norgren - Green Stone - NM/NM - $30
2017 reissue on red vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, excellent indie blues rock for fans of JJ Cale.
Daniel Norgren - Alabursy - NM/NM - $30
2017 reissue on marbled sky blue vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Odetta - And the Blues - VG/VG - $15
OG 1962 first mono press.
Ofege - How Do You Feel - M/M - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on orange & black galaxy coloreed vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Betty Padgett - S/T (1975) - NM/NM - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, old soul rarity.
Partynextdoor - Partymobile - M/M - $20
New 2020 2xLP neo R&B still sealed with promo sticker.
Plastic Ono Band - Live Peace In Toronto 1969 - VG/VG - $15
OG 1969 first press.
Professionals - (Madlib & Oh No) - M/M - $20
HHV exclusive on neon green vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Chris Rivers - G.I.T.U - NM/NM - $15
Big Pun's son, galaxy splatter colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Minnie Riperton - Perfect Angel - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1974 first press.
David Ruffin - My Whole World Ended - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1969 first Hollywood press, rare Motown old soul classic.
Gene Russell - Talk to My Lady - NM/NM - $20
Black Jazz classic, Zia reissue on orange & black swirl colored vinyl.
Freddie Scott - I Shall Be Released - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1970 first press, excellent rare soul.
Serpentwithfeet - Soil - NM/NM - $20
Numbered VMP press on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Shannon & the Clams - Sleep Talk - NM/NM - $20
2015 repress on clear colored vinyl, excellent indie/punk for fans of Ty Segall.
Paul Simon - S/T (Solo Debut) - VG/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Paul Simon - Greatest Hits - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1977 press.
Paul Simon - Still Crazy After All These Years - VG+/VG+ - $10
Reissue.
Silvertones - Silver Bullets - M/M - $20
Rare 1973 reggae classic. VMP remaster on color-in-color vinyl, unplayed with all VMP extras.
Nancy Sinatra - Sugar - VG/VG - $20
1967 Japanese press, with insert.
Grace Slick - San Francisco Scene - VG/VG - $10
OG 1971 2xLP first press.
Bessie Smith - The Bessie Smith Story Vol. 4 - VG/VG - $10
Classic 1951 collection, mono reissue with blue cover & "6-eye" labels.
Snoopy Dean - Wiggle That Thing - M/M - $25
2017 reissue, still sealed, old funk/soul rarity.
Bruce Springsteen - Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J. - VG/VG - $10
1979 reissue.
Jim Sullivan - If Evening Were Dawn - NM/NM - $20
2019 Light in the Attic reissue on orange swirl vinyl, loner folk rarity.
Richard Swift - Even Your Drums Will Die - M/M - $15
Secretly Society press on black & white explosion colored vinyl, still sealed.
Sylk - S/T (1983) - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on "magenta & hot pink galaxy" colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker, funky jazz rarity.
Vicktor Taiwò - Joy Comes In Spirit - NM/NM - $10
2018 2xLP, neo soul/indie for fans of Brent Faiyaz.
Ike & Tina Turner - Workin' Together - NM/NM - $15
Reissue on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Ike & Tina Turner - Please Please Please - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1970 first press.
Ike & Tina Turner - 'Nuff Said - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1971 first press.
Leslie Uggams - What's An Uggams? - VG/VG - $10
OG 1968 promo press, white label.
Lou Val - Lonely in Paradise - NM/NM - $10
Clear vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap, neo trap/soul.
Tom Waits - Nighthawks at the Diner - VG/VG - $15
OG 1975 2xLP first press.
Tom Waits - Black Rider - VG+/VG+ - $50
1999 unofficial German press on blue vinyl.
Anthony White - Could It Be Magic - VG/VG - $15
OG 1976 first press.
Whitney - Forever Turned Around - NM/NM - $20
Numbered VMP press on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Lenny Williams - Rise Sleeping Beauty - VG/VG - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Jimmy Witherspoon - Spoonful O' Blues - VG/VG - $10
OG 1984 first press.
Stevie Wonder - Up Tight - G+/VG+ - $15
OG 1966 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Stevie Wonder - Up Tight - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1966 first press.
Little Stevie Wonder - The Jazz Soul of... - VG/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue.
Little Stevie Wonder - 12 Year Old Genius - VG+/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue.
Little Stevie Wonder - 12 Year Old Genius - M/M - $15
2020 EU reissue, still sealed.
Betty Wright - Hard to Stop - VG/VG - $15
OG 1973 first press, promo sticker on front cover.
Betty Wright - Travelin' In the Wright Circle - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1979 first press.
Yellow Days - A Day In A Yellow Beat - NM/NM - $15
Yellow vinyl 2xLP, opened but includes promo sticker, insert booklet, and sealed bonus CD, for fans of King Krule.
Neil Young - Live Rust - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1979 2xLP first press.
Neil Young - After the Gold Rush - VG/VG - $15
1978 Winchester reissue, includes massive fold-out poster with lyrics.
Neil Young - After the Gold Rush - VG/VG - $20
OG 1970 first press, includes poster.
Neil Young - Comes A Time - VG+/VG - $10
1978 Los Angeles reissue.
Neil Young - Zuma - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1975 first press.
Neil Young - Journey Through the Past - VG/VG - $15
OG 1972 2xLP first press.
Neil Young - Decade - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1977 3xLP first press, Jacksonville.
Buffalo Springfield - S/T (1973) - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1973 2xLP first press.
CSNY - Deja Vu - VG/VG+ - $15
Reissue.
CSNY - Live at the LA Forum - VG/VG - $25
Rare 2xLP unofficial press of 6/26/1970 show, Uncle Wiggley edition.
CSNY - Live at the LA Forum - VG/VG+ - $25
Rare 2xLP unofficial press of 6/26/1970 show, Rubber Dubber edition.
V/A (Stash Records) - Copulatin' Blues - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1976 first press.
V/A (Stash Records) - Copulatin' Blues Vol. 1 - VG+/VG+ - $10
Reissue.
V/A (Rosetta Records) - Mean Mothers - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1981 collection, "Independent Women's Blues, Vol. 1."
V/A - Folk Blues Song Fest - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 collection, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
V/A (Born Bad) - Tchic Tchic French Bossa Nova - M/NM - $10
French 2020 2xLP collection from 1963-1974, still sealed.

Hello All,
Selling my entire collection (3k+ records) to pursue the dream of cycling from Alaska to Argentina later this year, a two-year journey! Following up to last week's jazz post with more classics & rarities, perfect for DJs, beatmakers, and all lovers of great music old & new.
Shipping from AZ, USA. Cheapest domestic postage is $5 for USPS Media Mail plus $1 for each additional LP. PM your request with email address and I'll invoice in order of receipt via PayPal G&S.
Graded (disc/sleeve) conservatively in accordance with Goldmine Standard.
Amerigo Gazaway - Miseducation of Eunice Waymon - NM/NM - $25
Amazing 2xLP mashup of Lauryn Hill rapping over Nina Simone songs.
Frank Ocean - Channel Live - VG+/VG+ - $30
Purple cover, pink & orange swirl colored vinyl, 2xLP unofficial press.
Frank Ocean - Unreleased, Misc - NM/NM - $30
Clear blue marble vinyl, 2xLP unofficial press.
Frank Ocean - Unreleased, Misc Vol. 2 - NM/NM - $30
Clear blue marble & brown vinyl, 2xLP unofficial press.
Snoh Aalegra - Dying 4 Your Love - M/M - $10
Limited 7" on orange vinyl, still sealed.
Allie - Nightshade - NM/NM - $15
Excellent 2018 neo R&B on gold vinyl, for fans of FKA Twigs.
Jon Batiste - Anatomy of Angels - M/M - $20
Sealed, live at the Village Vanguard.
Big Bill Broonzy - S/T (1970) - VG/VG - $10
OG Archive of Folk Music collection.
Big Bill Broonzy - Midnight Special - NM/NM - $25
Live in Nottingham, 1957. Numbered VMP reissue on pink coral vinyl w/ promo sticker.
Big Mama Thornton - In Europe - VG/VG - $20
OG Arhoolie stereo classic.
Willie Bobo - Bobo Motion - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1967 first stereo press.
Willie Bobo - New Dimension - VG/VG - $10
OG 1968 first stereo press.
Bohannon - Bohannon Drive - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1983 first press.
Bohannon - Gittin' Off - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1976 first press.
James Booker - Classified - M/M - $15
Numbered VMP reissue on taupe splatter colored vinyl, still sealed.
Booker T & the MGs - Booker T Set - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1969 first press, metallic jacket, Stax soul classic.
Leon Bridges & Khruangbin - Texas Sun - VG+/VG+ - $40
Rare club press on coke-bottle clear vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Mojo Buford - Mojo Workin' - M/M - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on yellow vinyl, new/unplayed.
R.L. Burnside - Mr. Wizard - NM/NM - $15
180G contemporary blues classic.
Valerie Capers - Portrait In Soul - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1966 first mono press, first blind graduate of Juilliard.
Gene Chandler - There Was A Time - VG+/VG+ - $15
Stereo repress.
Ray Charles - The Genius Of - VG/VG+ - $15
1962 mono reissue.
Ray Charles - Genius + Soul = Jazz - VG/VG - $10
OG 1961 first mono press.
Chicano Batman - Freedom Is Free - NM/NM - $15
Orange vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Sam Cooke - One & Only - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1967 stereo press.
Joe Cuba Sextet - Breakin' Out - VG+/NM - $15
Latin jazz classic, reissue, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Czarface - Meets Metal Face - NM/NM - $30
Limited Newbury press on yellow vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Frank Derrick - You Betcha - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, sealed w/ promo sticker.
Dr. John - Plays Mac Rebennack - VG/VG - $15
OG 1981 first press, cut lower right corner.
Dr. John - One Night Late - VG/VG - $15
Rare 1977 collection.
Doris Duke - Woman - VG/VG - $30
OG 1975 first press, all time classic.
George Duke - I Love the Blues, She Heard My Cry - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1975 first promo press.
EmoniFela - Daycamp for Dreamers - NM/NM - $5
Numbered Vinyl Me, Please edition on yellow vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Ethel Ennis - Live at the Maryland Inn - G+/G+ - $30
OG 1980 first press, autographed back cover, some water damage.
Ethel Ennis - This Is - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1964 first press.
Betty Everett - Woman With Soul - M/NM - $20
Rare 1977 collection still sealed in shrinkwrap.
Lowell Fulsom - Tramp - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1967 first mono press.
Lee Fields - It Rains Love - NM/NM - $30
Limited 2019 press on red splatter vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap, includes autographed photo insert.
Robert Finley - Goin' Platinum - NM/NM - $15
2017 contemporary blues classic produced by the Black Keys, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Roberta Flack - Quiet Fire - VG/VG - $10
OG 1971 first press.
Aretha Franklin - Soul '69 - VG/VG - $15
OG 1969 first stereo press.
Aretha Franklin - Hey Now Hey (Other Side of the Sky) - VG/VG - $10
OG 1973 soul jazz classic.
Aretha Franklin - Sparkle - VG/VG - $10
OG 1976 soundtrack, produced by Curtis Mayfield.
Funk Inc - Chicken Lickin ' - G+/G+ - $10
OG 1972 first press, rare funk classic.
Marvin Gaye - In Our Lifetime - VG+/VG+ - $10
1981 classic.
Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Pinata '74 - M/M - $25
Half-speed master with alternate 70's artwork, unplayed.
Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Pinata '84 - M/M - $25
Half-speed master with alternate 80's artwork, unplayed.
Al Green - I'm Still In Love With You - VG/VG - $15
OG 1972 RCA club press, all time classic.
Al Green - Let's Stay Together - G/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Al Green - Let's Stay Together - F/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Al Green - Truth N' Time - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1978 first press.
Al Green - Is Love - VG/G+ - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Al Green - Green Is Blues - G/VG+ - $10
1972 stereo reissue.
Al Green - S/T (1968) - VG+/VG+ - $20
Rare 1972 promo reissue with white Bell labels.
Eddie Harris - Excursions - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1973 2xLP first press.
Eddie Harris - Silver Cycles - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1969 first mono press, white promo labels.
Eddie Harris - Instant Death - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Isaac Hayes - Black Moses - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1971 first press, 2xLP with classic fold-out crucifix jacket.
Loleatta Holloway - Cry To Me - NM/NM - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on dark green vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
John Lee Hooker - If You Miss 'Im, I Got 'Im - M/M - $20
2019 180G reissue, sealed w/ promo sticker.
John Lee Hooker - Very Best of - VG/VG - $20
1969 stereo reissue.
James Hunter Six - Nick of Time - NM/NM - $20
Limited mono press on clear & orange splatter colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Isis - Ain't No Backin' Up Now - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1975 first press with promo label on front cover, produced by Allen Toussaint, with lyric insert.
Isleys - Brother, Brother, Brother - G/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Isleys - Live It Up - VG/VG - $10
1974 funk classic.
Ivey Sole - Overgrown Live - M/M - $20
Numbered Vinyl Me, Please edition on blue vinyl, still sealed in original sleeve with promo sticker.
Rick James - Throwin' Down - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1982 first press.
Rick James - Street Songs - VG/VG - $10
OG 1981 first press.
Rick James - Cold Blooded - G/VG - $10
OG 1983 first press.
Etta James & Eddie Vinson - Late Show - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1985 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Syl Johnson - Back for A Taste of Your Love - VG/VG - $15
OG 1973 first press, Hi records classic.
Sharon Jones - Soul of A Woman - NM/NM - $15
Opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Sharon Jones - I Learned the Hard Way - M/M - $20
New Zia reissue on orange vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Quincy Jones - I Heard That - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1976 2xLP first press.
Quincy Jones - Sounds & Stuff - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1978 first press.
Quincy Jones - The Dude - VG/VG+ - $5
OG 1981 first press.
Margie Joseph - Makes A New Impression - VG/VG - $10
German press, 1971 soul classic, tactfully taped top & bottom seams.
Margie Joseph - Phase II - VG/VG - $20
1971 German press, Stax soul classic.
JPQ - Quintessence (1983) - M/M - $20
HHV exclusive on 180G colored vinyl, still sealed.
Junior Mesa - Cirque Du Freak - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP press on "turnip blood" colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kaina - Next To the Sun - M/M - $15
Limited 2019 press on pink vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - You Should Be Here - M/M - $20
2021 reissue on pink, purple & blue colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - While We Wait - M/M - $20
2021 reissue on lava colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - While We Wait - M/M - $20
2019 press on classic black vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Ben E King - Stand By Me - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1986 club press.
Gladys Knight & the Pips - Gladys Knight - VG/VG - $30
OG 1965 first mono press.
Frederick Knight - I've Been Lonely for So Long - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1973 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap, Stax soul classic, upper left corner cut.
Lady Wray - Piece of Me - M/M - $25
Big Crown exclusive on pink & purple splash colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kendrick Lamar - Untitled Unmastered - NM/NM - $25
Opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Lando Chill - For Mark, Your Son - M/M - $15
Still sealed in shrinkwrap, cleared split colored vinyl.
Lando Chill - Spoke to the Wind - M/M - $15
Still sealed in shrinkwrap, purple splatter colored vinyl.
Lando Chill - Black Ego - M/M - $15
Still sealed in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, black smoke colored vinyl.
Denise LaSalle - Trapped By A Thing Called Love - G+/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
The Lasso - 2121 - M/M - $15
Amazing neo R&B on purple splatter vinyl, for fans of the Internet, via Mello Music Group, still sealed.
Leadbelly - Sings & Plays - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1962 first press on red vinyl.
Lightnin' Hopkins - Strums the Blues - M/M - $15
Audiophile mono remaster, sealed w/ promo sticker.
Abbey Lincoln - It's Magic - M/M - $20
Audiophile VMP 180G remaster, sealed w/ obi strip & promo sticker.
Little Richard & Jimi Hendrix - Together - VG/VG+ - $10
1973 reissue.
Little Richard & Jimi Hendrix - Friends from the Beginning - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Charles Lloyd - Forest Flower - VG+/VG+ - $20
1968 second press, classic soul jazz.
Preston Love's Omaha Bar-B-Q - Feat. Shuggie Otis - VG+/VG+ - $20
2014 reissue on green vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Ella Mai - Time Change Ready - NM/NM - $30
Unofficial 2018 2xLP on marbled clear blue vinyl.
Mary Jane Girls - Only for You - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1985 first press.
Barbara Mason - Give Me Your Love - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Barbara Mason - Lady Love - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1973 first press.
Barbara Mason - Transition - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1974 first press.
Jimmy McGriff - Black & Blues - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1974 first Canadian 2xLP press.
Mississippi Sheiks - Complete Works Vol. 3 - VG+/VG+ - $30
2013 press on orange vinyl.
Sen Morimoto - S/T - M/M - $15
Excellent neo soul, limited 2xLP on colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Muddy Waters - At Newport - NM/NM - $30
2019 remaster on 180G blue vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Namir Blade - Traveling Circus - M/M - $20
Purple & yellow splatter colored vinyl, still sealed.
Nas - Lost Tapes 2 - M/M - $20
Still sealed with promo sticker, 2xLP.
Notorious B.I.G. & Faith Evans - King & I - VG+/VG+ - $15
2017 2xLP collection.
Odetta - And the Blues - VG/VG - $15
OG 1962 first mono press.
Oneness of Juju - Live East 1973 - NM/NM - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, opened but still with promo sticker.
Betty Padgett - S/T (1975) - NM/NM - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Partynextdoor - Partymobile - M/M - $20
New 2020 2xLP neo R&B still sealed with promo sticker.
Teddy Pendergrass - Life Is A Song Worth Singing - M/M - $15
VMP audiophile remaster, still sealed with promo sticker.
Wilson Pickett - Don't Knock My Love - VG+/VG+ - $10
Stereo reissue.
Professionals - (Madlib & Oh No) - M/M - $20
HHV exclusive on neon green vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Otis Redding - Dock of the Bay - G+/G+ - $10
1969 stereo press.
Chris Rivers - G.I.T.U - NM/NM - $15
Big Pun's son, galaxy splatter colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Minnie Riperton - Perfect Angel - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1974 first press.
David Ruffin - My Whole World Ended - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1969 first Hollywood press.
Freddie Scott - I Shall Be Released - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1970 first press, excellent rare soul.
Travis Scott - Franchise - VG+/VG+ - $15
Clear vinyl 12" single.
Señor Soul - It's Your Thing - VG+/VG+ - $15
Reissue.
Serpentwithfeet - Soil - NM/NM - $20
Numbered VMP press on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Shuggie Otis - Freedom Flight - G/VG+ - $30
OG 1971 first press.
Nina Simone - And Friends - M/M - $20
2021 reissue on emerald green vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Hal Singer - Paris Soul Food - G/VG+ - $10
OG 1969 first press.
Skyzoo & Pete Rock - Retropolitan - NM/NM - $20
Opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker, white vinyl.
Bessie Smith - The Bessie Smith Story Vol. 4 - VG/VG - $10
Classic 1951 collection, mono reissue with blue cover & "6-eye" labels.
Snoopy Dean - Wiggle That Thing - M/M - $25
2017 reissue, still sealed.
Melvin Sparks - I'm Funky Now - NM/NM - $25
2020 reissue on orange vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Sylk - S/T (1983) - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on "magenta & hot pink galaxy" colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Vicktor Taiwò - Joy Comes In Spirit - NM/NM - $10
2018 2xLP.
Leon Thomas & Oliver Nelson - In Berlin - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1971 first press, soul jazz classic.
Allen Toussaint - Toussaint - VG/VG - $30
1971 repress.
Allen Toussaint - Life, Love & Faith - VG+/VG+ - $30
Repress with orange Reprise labels.
Ike Turner - Bad Dreams - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1973 first press.
Ike & Tina Turner - Workin' Together - NM/NM - $15
Reissue on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Ike & Tina Turner - Please Please Please - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1970 first press.
Ike & Tina Turner - 'Nuff Said - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1971 first press.
Leslie Uggams - What's An Uggams? - VG/VG - $10
OG 1968 promo press, white label.
Phillip Upchurch - Darkness, Darkness - VG/VG - $20
OG 1972 first press.
Anthony White - Could It Be Magic - VG/VG - $20
OG 1976 first press.
Lenny Williams - Rise Sleeping Beauty - VG/VG - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Chuck Willis - King of the Stroll - NM/NM - $15
1979 Japanese mono reissue, includes obi strip & insert.
Jimmy Witherspoon - Spoonful O' Blues - VG/VG - $10
OG 1984 first press.
Lou Val - Lonely in Paradise - NM/NM - $15
Clear vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Stevie Wonder - Innervisions - VG/VG - $15
OG 1973 first Hollywood press.
Stevie Wonder - Innervisions - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1973 first Hollywood press.
Stevie Wonder - Innervisions - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1973 first Hollywood press.
Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1976 2xLP first press with insert booklet & bonus 7" included.
Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1976 2xLP first press with insert booklet & bonus 7" included, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Stevie Wonder - Music of My Mind - G/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Stevie Wonder - Up Tight - G+/VG+ - $15
OG 1966 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Stevie Wonder - Up Tight - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1966 first press.
Little Stevie Wonder - Tribute to Uncle Ray - G+/VG - $20
1963 repress.
Little Stevie Wonder - The Jazz Soul of... - VG/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue.
Little Stevie Wonder - 12 Year Old Genius - VG+/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue.
Little Stevie Wonder - 12 Year Old Genius - M/M - $15
2020 EU reissue, still sealed.
Betty Wright - Hard to Stop - VG/VG - $15
OG 1973 first press, promo sticker on front cover.
Betty Wright - Travelin' In the Wright Circle - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1979 first press.
Yellow Days - A Day In A Yellow Beat - NM/NM - $20
Yellow vinyl 2xLP, opened but includes promo sticker, insert booklet, and sealed bonus CD, for fans of King Krule.
V/A (Stash Records) - Copulatin' Blues - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1976 first press.
V/A (Stash Records) - Copulatin' Blues Vol. 1 - VG+/VG+ - $10
Reissue.
V/A (Rosetta Records) - Mean Mothers - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1981 collection, "Independent Women's Blues, Vol. 1."
V/A - Folk Blues Song Fest - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 collection, opened but still in shrinkwrap.

Hello All,
Selling my entire collection (3k+ records) to pursue the dream of cycling from Alaska to Argentina next year, a two-year journey! Following up to prior posts with more classics & rarities, great for DJs and all lovers of good music old & new.
Shipping from AZ, USA. Cheapest domestic postage is $5 for USPS Media Mail plus $1 for each additional LP. PM your request with email address and I'll invoice in order of receipt via PayPal G&S.
Graded (disc/sleeve) conservatively in accordance with Goldmine Standard. Immense thanks and wishing you all a very lovely holiday season regardless!
Frank Ocean - Channel Live (Unofficial Press) - VG+/VG+ - $40
Solid purple cover, pink & orange swirl colored vinyl.
Frank Ocean - Unreleased, Misc (Unofficial Press) - NM/NM - $40
Clear blue marble vinyl, 2xLP, stored in rice paper sleeves.
Frank Ocean - Unreleased, Misc Vol. 2 (Unofficial Press) - NM/NM - $40
Clear blue marble & brown vinyl, 2xLP, stored in rice paper sleeves.
Harold Alexander - Sunshine Man - M/M - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on lava colored vinyl, still sealed.
Allie - Nightshade - NM/NM - $15
Excellent 2018 neo R&B on gold vinyl.
Amerigo Gazaway - Miseducation of Eunice Waymon - NM/NM - $30
Amazing Lauryn Hill & Nina Simone mashup, 2xLP.
Roy Ayers - Shining Symbol - VG+/VG+ - $30
1993 2xLP UK collection, signed back cover.
Nathan Bajar - Playroom - NM/NM - $15
Numbered VMP press on orange vinyl.
Bar Kays - As One - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1980 first press.
Gloria Barnes - Uptown - NM/NM - $30
Numbered audiophile 2017 reissue, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
William Bell - Relating - VG+/VG - $10
OG 1973 first press, Stax soul classic, opened but still in shrinkwrap, bottom right corner cut.
Big Bill Broonzy - S/T (1970)- VG/VG - $10
OG Archive of Folk Music collection.
Big Bill Broonzy - Midnight Special- NM/NM - $25
Live in Nottingham, 1957. Numbered VMP reissue on pink coral vinyl, opened but still in original sleeve with promo sticker.
Big Mama Thornton - In Europe- VG/VG - $25
OG Arhoolie stereo classic.
Bohannon - Bohannon Drive- VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1983 first press.
Bohannon - Gittin' Off- VG+/VG - $10
OG 1976 first press.
Kadhja Bonet - Childqueen - NM/NM - $30
Limited 2018 press on marbled peach vinyl with bonus 7", opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
James Booker - Classified - M/M - $15
Numbered VMP reissue on taupe splatter colored vinyl, still sealed.
Bootsy Collins - This Boot Is Made for Fonk'n - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1972 first press.
James Brown - Live at the Garden - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1967 first press.
James Brown - Live at the Garden - G+/G+ - $15
OG 1967 first press.
James Brown - Soul On Top - VG/VG+ - $25
OG 1970 first press.
James Brown - Soul On Top - VG/VG - $20
OG 1970 first press.
James Brown - Thinking About Little Willie John... - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1968 first press.
James Brown - Gettin' Down To It - VG+/VG+ - $25
OG 1969 first press.
James Brown - People - VG+/VG+ - $25
OG 1980 first press.
James Brown - Live at the Apollo Vol 2 - VG+/VG+ - $25
2xLP French reissue.
James Brown - Pure Dynamite - G+/G+ - $10
OG 1964 first mono press.
James Brown - Today & Yesterday - G+/VG+ - $10
OG 1965 first press, stored in poly-lined sleeve.
James Brown - In the Jungle Groove - VG+/VG+ - $35
2014 2xLP reissue.
James Brown - Can Your Heart Stand It - VG/VG - $10
1981 collection.
James Brown - Slaughter's Big Rip Off - VG+/VG+ - $15
1997 reissue.
James Brown - The Payback Mix - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1988 first press, 12".
James Brown - It's A Man's World: Soul Brother #1 - M/M - $15
2016 reissue, still sealed.
James Brown - Hot - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1975 first press.
James Brown - Sings Out of Sight - VG/VG - $10
1968 stereo reissue.
James Brown - Papa's Got A Brand New Bag - VG+/VG+ - $15
1983 French mono reissue.
James Brown - Excitement: Mr. Dynamite - VG+/VG+ - $15
1983 French mono reissue.
James Brown - Try Me! - VG+/VG+ - $25
1988 European mono reissue.
James Brown - Prisoner of Love - G/G - $10
1966 mono repress, split top & bottom seams.
James Brown - Prisoner of Love - VG+/VG+ - $15
1983 French mono reissue.
James Brown - Revolution of the Mind - VG+/VG+ - $25
2xLP reissue.
Fred & the New JBs - Breakin' Bread - NM/NM - $15
2015 reissue, includes poster.
Mojo Buford - Mojo Workin'- M/M - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on yellow vinyl, new/unplayed.
R.L. Burnside - Mr. Wizard- NM/NM - $15
180G contemporary blues classic.
Captain Sky - Concerned Party #1 - VG+/VG+ - $10
P-Funk classic, OG 1980 first press.
Gene Chandler - There Was A Time - VG+/VG+ - $15
1968 soul classic, stereo repress.
Como Mamas - Move Upstairs - NM/NM - $10
2017 mono press on white vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Arthur Conley - Sweet Soul Music - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1967 first mono press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Doris Duke - Woman - VG/VG - $30
OG 1975 first press, all time classic.
George Duke - I Love the Blues, She Heard My Cry - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1975 first promo press.
DVSN - Muse In Her Feelings - M/M - $25
New 2xLP, still sealed.
El Michels Affair - Yeti Season - M/M - $60
Big Crown deluxe exclusive box set on colored vinyl with bonus 7", still sealed with promo sticker.
Betty Everett - Woman With Soul - M/NM - $30
Rare 1977 collection still sealed in shrinkwrap.
Lee Fields - It Rains Love - NM/NM - $30
Limited 2019 press on red splatter vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap, includes autographed photo insert.
Robert Finley - Goin' Platinum- NM/NM - $20
2017 contemporary blues classic produced by Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Aretha Franklin - This Girl's In Love With You - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1970 first press.
Aretha Franklin - Soul 69- VG/VG - $20
OG 1969 first stereo press.
Lowell Fulsom - Tramp - VG/VG+ - $30
OG 1967 first mono press.
Funkadelic - Tales of Kidd Funkadelic - NM/NM - $30
Limited 2016 reissue on blue/green colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Funkadelic - Free Your Mind... - NM/NM - $30
Limited 2018 reissue on blue starburst colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Marvin Gaye - Live - VG/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Marvin Gaye - You're The Man - NM/NM - $15
2019 2xLP opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Marvin Gaye - Live at the London Palladium - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1977 2xLP first press.
Beverly Glenn-Copeland - At Last - VG+/VG+ - $30
OG 1983 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap, rare classic.
Al Green - S/T (1968) - VG+/VG+ - $25
Rare 1972 promo reissue with white Bell labels.
Al Green - Green Is Blues - VG+/VG+ - $10
1972 stereo reissue.
Al Green - I'm Still In Love With You - VG/VG - $15
OG 1972 RCA club press, all time classic.
Nick Hakim - Will This Make Me Good - M/M - $25
VMP press on orange vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Isaac Hayes - Black Moses - VG/VG - $15
OG 1971 first press, 2xLP with classic fold-out crucifix jacket.
Isaac Hayes - Black Moses - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1971 first press, 2xLP with classic fold-out crucifix jacket.
Loleatta Holloway - Cry To Me - NM/NM - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on dark green vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
John Lee Hooker - If You Miss 'Im, I Got 'Im- M/M - $20
2019 180G reissue, still sealed with promo sticker.
John Lee Hooker - Sings Blues- M/M - $20
Audiophile 2015 180G mono reissue, still sealed with promo sticker.
John Lee Hooker - Very Best of- VG/VG - $20
1969 stereo reissue.
Earl Hooker - Sweet Black Angel- VG/VG - $15
1971 stereo reissue.
Howling Wolf - Ridin' in the Moonlight- NM/NM - $20
OG 1982 European mono press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
James Hunter Six - Nick of Time - NM/NM - $20
Limited mono press on clear & orange splatter colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Isis - Ain't No Backin' Up Now - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1975 first press with promo label on front cover, produced by Allen Toussaint, with lyric insert.
Rick James - Throwin' Down- VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1982 first press.
Rick James - Bustin' Out of L Seven- VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1979 first press.
Etta James - Sings Funk - M/M - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on olive green vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Etta James - Rocks the House - M/M - $25
Newbury reissue on blue & red fog colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Elmore James - Resurrection- VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1970 first press.
Syl Johnson - Back for A Taste of Your Love - VG/VG - $15
OG 1973 first press, Hi records classic.
Sharon Jones - Naturally - M/M - $25
Plaid Room exclusive reissue on red & yellow swirl vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Sharon Jones - Soul of A Woman - NM/NM - $15
Opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Sharon Jones - I Learned the Hard Way - M/M - $20
New Zia reissue on orange vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Durand Jones & the Indications - American Love Call - M/M - $30
Secretly Society exclusive on green seafoam wave colored vinyl, still sealed.
Durand Jones & the Indications - Private Space - M/M - $30
Rough Trade exclusive on blue & pink splatter vinyl, still sealed with signed insert & CD.
JPQ - Quintessence (1983) - M/M - $30
HHV exclusive on 180G colored vinyl, still sealed.
Margie Joseph - Makes A New Impression - VG/VG - $10
German press, 1971 soul classic, tactfully taped top & bottom seams.
Margie Joseph - Phase II - VG/VG - $30
1971 German press, Stax soul classic.
Junior Mesa - Cirque Du Freak - M/M - $30
Numbered VMP press on "turnip blood" colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kaina - Next To the Sun - M/M - $15
Limited 2019 press on pink vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - You Should Be Here - M/M - $30
2021 reissue on pink, purple & blue colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Kehlani - While We Wait - M/M - $30
2021 reissue on lava colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Frederick Knight - I've Been Lonely for So Long - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1973 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap, Stax soul classic, upper left corner cut.
Lady Wray - Piece of Me - M/M - $30
Big Crown exclusive on pink & purple splash colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
The Lasso - 2121 - M/M - $15
Amazing neo R&B on purple splatter vinyl, for fans of the Internet, via Mello Music Group, still sealed.
Leadbelly - Sings & Plays- VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1962 first press on red vinyl.
Billy Lemos - Wonder - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP press on black & yellow vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Lightnin' Hopkins - Strums the Blues- M/M - $15
Audiophile mono remaster, still sealed with promo sticker.
Lightnin' Hopkins - Something Blue- VG/VG+ - $25
OG 1967 first press.
Preston Love's Omaha Bar-B-Q - Feat. Shuggie Otis - VG+/VG+ - $25
Stereo reissue, all time soul jazz classic (1970).
Preston Love's Omaha Bar-B-Q - Feat. Shuggie Otis - VG+/VG+ - $25
2014 reissue on green vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Taj Mahal - The Real Thing - VG+/VG+ - $10
Original 1971 2xLP first stereo press.
Taj Mahal - Recycling The Blues - M/M - $25
2006 Pure Pleasure audiophile 180G reissue, still sealed with promo sticker.
Taj Mahal - S/T (1968) - VG+/VG+ - $15
1985 UK reissue.
Taj Mahal - Giant Step - VG+/VG+ - $10
Classic 1971 2xLP stereo reissue.
Ella Mai - Time Change Ready - NM/NM - $40
Unofficial 2018 2xLP on marbled clear blue vinyl.
Mary Jane Girls - S/T (1983) - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG first press, "All Night Long" classic.
Mary Jane Girls - Only for You - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1985 first press.
Curtis Mayfield - Back to the World - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1973 first press, stored in rice paper sleeve.
Fred McDowell - Mississippi Delta Blues - M/M - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Mississippi Sheiks - Complete Works Vol. 3 - VG+/VG+ - $40
2013 press on orange vinyl.
Sen Morimoto - S/T - M/M - $15
Excellent neo soul, limited 2xLP on colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Muddy Waters - At Newport - NM/NM - $40
2019 remaster on 180G blue vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Mutiny - Night Out with the Boys - M/M - $25
Zia reissue on gold & black splatter vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
NAO - Life Was Beautiful - M/M - $30
Limited signed webstore variant, still sealed.
Tony Newton - Mysticism & Romance - M/M - $20
Zia reissue on yellow & red swirl colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Odetta - And the Blues- VG/VG - $15
OG 1962 first mono press.
Oneness of Juju - Chapter Two: Nia - NM/NM - $25
Numbered VMP reissue on smoke colored vinyl, opened but still with promo sticker.
Oneness of Juju - Live East 1973 - NM/NM - $30
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, opened but still with promo sticker.
Namir Blade - Traveling Circus - M/M - $25
Purple & yellow splatter colored vinyl, still sealed.
Betty Padgett - S/T (1975) - NM/NM - $30
Numbered VMP reissue on colored vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Partynextdoor - Partymobile - M/M - $20
New 2020 2xLP neo R&B still sealed with promo sticker.
Patterson Twins - Let Me Be Your Lover - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on blue & white galaxy colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Teddy Pendergrass - Life Is A Song Worth Singing - M/M - $20
VMP audiophile remaster, still sealed with promo sticker.
Wilson Pickett - The Exciting - NM/NM - $20
2017 reissue on turquoise vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Minnie Riperton - Perfect Angel - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1974 first press.
David Ruffin - My Whole World Ended - VG+/VG+ - $20
OG 1969 first Hollywood press.
Freddie Scott - I Shall Be Released - VG/VG+ - $10
OG 1970 first press, excellent rare soul.
Gil Scott-Heron - Spirits - NM/NM - $30
2019 2xLP reissue on red vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Gil Scott-Heron - First Minute of A New Day - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1975 first press.
Screamin' Jay Hawkins - Bizarre Years - M/M - $15
Reissue on purple vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Screamin' Jay Hawkins - Portrait of A Man & His Woman - VG+/VG+ - $50
OG 1972 first press.
Screamin' Jay Hawkins - What That Is! - VG/VG - $20
OG 1969 first press.
Screamin' Jay Hawkins & the Fuzztones - Live - NM/NM - $15
2015 reissue on red vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Señor Soul - It's Your Thing - VG+/VG+ - $15
Reissue.
Serpentwithfeet - Soil - NM/NM - $20
Numbered VMP press on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap with promo sticker.
Nina Simone - And Friends - M/M - $20
2021 reissue on emerald green vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Bessie Smith - The Bessie Smith Story Vol. 4- VG/VG - $10
Classic 1951 collection, mono reissue with blue cover & "6-eye" labels.
Lonnie Smith - Keep On Lovin' - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1976 first press.
Snoopy Dean - Wiggle That Thing - M/M - $25
2017 reissue, still sealed.
Moses Sumney - Aromanticism - VG+/VG+ - $15
VMP press on black & white split colored vinyl.
Swamp Dogg - Total Destruction To Your Mind - G+/G+ - $30
OG 1970 first press.
Swamp Dogg - Total Destruction To Your Mind - NM/NM - $20
2013 reissue.
Sylk - S/T (1983) - M/M - $20
Numbered VMP reissue on "magenta & hot pink galaxy" colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Vicktor Taiwò - Joy Comes In Spirit - NM/NM - $10
2018 2xLP.
Bubbha Thomas - Life & Times - M/M - $25
Zia reissue on coke bottle & orange splatter colored vinyl, still sealed with promo sticker.
Allen Toussaint - Motion - VG+/VG+ - $15
OG 1978 first press, cover stamped promo.
Allen Toussaint - Toussaint - VG/VG - $50
1971 repress.
Allen Toussaint - Life, Love & Faith - VG+/VG+ - $50
Repress with orange Reprise labels.
Ike & Tina Turner - Workin' Together - NM/NM - $15
Reissue on gold vinyl, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Ike & Tina Turner - Come Together - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1970 first press.
Ike & Tina Turner - Please Please Please - VG/VG+ - $15
OG 1970 first press.
Ike & Tina Turner - 'Nuff Said - VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1971 first press.
Leslie Uggams - What's An Uggams? - VG/VG - $10
OG 1968 promo press, white label.
Phillip Upchurch - Darkness, Darkness - VG/VG - $20
OG 1972 first press.
Anthony White - Could It Be Magic - VG/VG - $25
OG 1976 first press.
Lenny Williams - Rise Sleeping Beauty - VG/VG - $10
OG 1975 first press.
Chuck Willis - King of the Stroll - NM/NM - $15
1979 Japanese mono reissue, includes obi strip & insert.
Charlotte Day Wilson - Alpha - M/M - $30
Numbered VMP reissue, still sealed with promo sticker.
Jimmy Witherspoon - Spoonful O' Blues- VG/VG - $10
OG 1984 first press.
Stevie Wonder - Innervisions - VG/VG - $15
OG 1973 first Hollywood press.
Stevie Wonder - Innervisions - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1973 first Hollywood press.
Stevie Wonder - Innervisions - VG+/VG+ - $25
OG 1973 first Hollywood press.
Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life - G+/VG - $15
OG 1976 2xLP first press with insert booklet & bonus 7" included.
Stevie Wonder - Music of My Mind - G/VG - $10
OG 1972 first press.
Stevie Wonder - Up Tight - G+/VG+ - $15
OG 1966 first press, opened but still in shrinkwrap.
Stevie Wonder - Up Tight - VG/VG+ - $20
OG 1966 first press.
Little Stevie Wonder - Tribute to Uncle Ray - G+/VG - $20
1963 repress.
Little Stevie Wonder - The Jazz Soul of... - VG/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue.
Little Stevie Wonder - 12 Year Old Genius - VG+/VG+ - $10
1981 reissue.
Little Stevie Wonder - 12 Year Old Genius - M/M - $15
OG 1973 first press, still sealed.
Betty Wright - Hard to Stop - VG/VG - $20
OG 1973 first press, promo sticker on front cover.
V/A (Stash Records) - Copulatin' Blues- VG+/VG+ - $10
OG 1976 first press.
V/A (Stash Records) - Copulatin' Blues Vol. 1 - VG+/VG+ - $10
Reissue.
V/A (Rosetta Records) - Mean Mothers- VG+/VG - $15
OG 1981 collection, "Independent Women's Blues, Vol. 1."
V/A - Folk Blues Song Fest- VG/VG+ -$10
OG 1972 collection, opened but still in shrinkwrap.

It was another mundane Christmas eve for the McCallister family. Unlike your typical white snowy Christmas this one was gray with a severe thunderstorm rolling in just a few hours ago quickly drenching everything with pouring rain. Gene McCallister had just finished putting his son Blake, and his daughter Amy to bed while his wife was with their newborn Gage getting him situated into his crib for the night. Suddenly There was a knock at the front door. Gene went to investigate the sudden disturbance, his wife Deborah in tow. Gene pondered over who could possibly be at the door during this time when everyone should be at home with their families and away from this melancholy weather before taking a look through the peephole to reveal an older looking gentleman with white disheveled hair and a dirty red coat. Must be a homeless man who thought he could get some extra change during the holidays by dressing as a discount Santa Clause, he thought with disdain before opening the front door. “Can I help you sir?” Gene greeted politely trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. “I am a man who is selfless, going around to help the helpless. Though I am a stranger with no relation I offer you a wonderful vacation!” The stranger chimed with a creepy Christmas cheer. At this encounter a tense awkwardness fell over the room. Deborah stood back a few feet with unease wondering if the man had just escaped from the psyche ward. What began as another boring Christmas eve of putting the children to bed and laying presents beneath the tree was now turning into a horrifyingly exciting night and suddenly neither parent was sure how things were about to play out. “We don’t need anything tonight, thank you.” Gene responded with a skeptical look as his frustrations grew. He began to close the door but it was quickly stopped. The old man stood holding the door open with a menacing grin. His other hand stayed stashed in his coat. “No one these days wants to open their door, humanity sure has become quite a sore. Have you no manners or sense of civility? I only come here to offer tranquility.” The surprise guest uttered with a stern look growing in his eyes. Fear began to build inside Gene as he was losing control of the situation quickly. “LIsten asshole, get the hell off my property or I’m calling the cops to drag you back to whatever shithole you came from.” He shouted mustering up all the courage he had to get the sick man away from his family. Before he knew it a hot flash of pain shot across the top of his forehead. He stumbled back confused feeling for a wound as he began to see a considerable amount of blood pool on the carpet below him. Fighting wildly to keep his bearings he looked up to face his adversary but the next strike to the side of his head would kill him before he would get the chance to see what did it. The murderer stood over Gene’s lifeless body clutching a bloody hatchet in his right hand before turning to a paralyzed Deborah. In a few quick steps he closed the gap between them before slamming the but end of the handle against her temple. She slumped to the floor unconscious, a gash had appeared from where he had struck her. Deborah awoke in her living room with a near blinding headache, it took only moments for the memories from earlier in the night to come flooding into her head. Looking around she found that her two children Blake and Amy had been set in the living room with her bound to chairs from the dining room and gagged to keep from screaming. She tried desperately to get up and save her children only to find she too had met the same fate as them. Upon further inspection of her surroundings she could see that her husband had been nailed to the wall above the fireplace, his body situated to resemble a crucifix. Oddly enough during this traumatic rush of emotions she could swear that she smelled something cooking, almost like someone had left a pot roast or ham in the oven. From the corner of her eye Deborah saw the twisted intruder come into view, and after closer inspection she could see that the shade and pattern of his red coat and pants suggested that they were not originally that color. His greasy white hair and beard hung down limply around his aged face. The man truly resembled a monster and his actions reflected the same. The man's face lit up once he saw that she was awake and he began to chime again in that same eerie voice “I’m sure you’re wondering what is he cooking and when will it be done? but you should be wondering what has happened to my infant son?” A disgusting realization hit Deborah as she saw one of her kids were not accounted for and she understood what must be cooking in the oven. She tried her best to hold back her vomit but the intrusive smell of her beloved son's singed flesh stuck in her lungs and she was helpless to stop the impulse. The bile rose up and stopped at the gag fixed into her mouth burning her throat, choking her and causing more impulsive heaves as she fought desperately to breathe. The stranger watched in amusement as she choked, her lungs were burning and her vision was going dark as her body continued to fight. Her energy was beginning to fade and she was slipping out of consciousness once again before the gag was ripped from her mouth and she was able to clear the bile from her throat. She quickly regained focus, completely out of control of the situation. She knew the only chance she had to save her children was to beg. Maybe there was some shred of decency or moral in him, there had to be right? How could something of the same species as her possibly be capable of such heinous, unthinkable acts? “Please, take whatever you want, do whatever you want to me, just please don't hurt my children. Not my babies, please.” She croaked between sobs. "Please do not fret or cry, everyone here is supposed to die. Life is a pain and society no longer merry so I am here to relieve the burdens you all carry." The stranger sang just inches from her face. She could smell his horrible scent of blood and rot now. The children began to slow in their struggles for freedom and their sobs quieted down as they saw their mothers desperation and realized their fate. Of the two people that were there for them their entire lives and supposed to protect and provide, one was hung lifelessly on the wall and the other was slowly losing hope and was clearly unfit to get them out of this situation. The stranger stopped and seemed to marvel at his work, a crooked smile stretched across his face. Then in a sudden twitch he seemed to move back to work and began to hum Carol of the Bells. He walked out of view and began to grab miscellaneous objects from around the house, laying them out on the coffee table. While a once cheery tune became an ominous omen for the family. Deborah watched as he laid out a bat, a shovel, a knife, a carving fork, a bloody hammer, and a chainsaw. The stranger continued to look around the room pondering his surroundings before stopping at the fireplace and placing a poker into the fire. Deborah sobbed quietly as she watched, helpless to stop whatever was coming next. Hope was quickly waning from her as she realized she could not help the only people she was supposed to protect. The stranger slowly looked through the different objects before picking up the carving fork and forcing it into Amy’s eye. Deborah watched in horror as blood ran down her precious daughter's face. The muffled screaming rang against Deborah’s ears like church bells from a sacreligious ceremony. “PLEASE!” she screamed at the intruder mustering up what little strength she had “please just let my children go, they’re just kids they’ve done nothing wrong. Do whatever you want to me just please let my children go.” her words quieted down as she watched the intruder look through his various torture devices. There was no point to her constant begging as she was helplessly watching her family being murdered before her. The intruder stopped at the chainsaw, starting it up with a dramatic roar, silencing the screams of one child as Amy’s head was split in two. Blake only a few feet away made noises through the gag to suggest he was desperately pleading for his life. It was no use however as the intruder made his way to the white hot fire poker taking it out of the fireplace. He purposefully strode over to the boy holding the poker so close to the boy's eye it began to burn. Blake shook and screamed desperately fighting for his life. The intruder seemed to watch curiously as he fought before slowly piercing the white hot poker through his eye until movement ceased in the young boy. Deborah’s mind had now disconnected from the gruesome scene, breaking completely as she accepted her fate. The intruder picked up the knife from the coffee table and held it to her throat. Against all human instinct she simply sat there catatonic as quiet tears ran down her face. Her only reason for living had quickly been taken from her in a series of unthinkable actions and she no longer saw any point in fighting as she felt the cold steel press against her. The knife was then moved from her throat and she felt the pressure around her wrists and ankles relieve itself as the knots were cut. A clang sounded through the house as the knife dropped to the floor. “Christmas should never be spent alone, and I gifted your family a chance to atone. I must hurry on now but before I've departed, I would like you to finish what I have started.” The intruder chimed, staring at Deborah in anticipation. She had gone cold now all emotion being replaced with a hopeless pit in her gut as she stared at the knife. Some part of her wanted to pick up the knife and plunge it into the gut of the monster that killed her children, but it was a far away voice. After all, killing this man would do nothing to bring them back and all she really wanted was a chance to see her kids again. She would give anything for a late night of changing Gage's diapers or an early morning fussing over Blake and Amy’s appearance before school. So as she stared at the welcoming blade all she saw was a solution to her problems. To maybe watch them grow in whatever afterlife may be waiting for them all. She picked up the blade and did the only thing that made sense in the moment and slit her wrists wide open. She stared blankly as the crimson blood painted her carpet, her very life force escaping away. She felt light and numb as her vision became dark and had she been capable a smile might have even crept across her face as she finally got out of the horrific situation. The next morning the police would find what almost looked like a murder suicide where the wife snapped and killed her family before herself. However after closer inspection they would find unknown fingerprints on an eerie note. “Though this scene may look quite depressing I promise you there's no need to be stressing. Though this may look like a terrible desecration, the whole family got to indulge on this Christmas vacation.”

"Hurry, everyone! Get in the house now! We can't delay. They'll catch up to us any moment!" shouted Dylan, Ridgewood’s communal pastor.
I brushed past him into the quaint (and ordinary) white-picket-fence blue suburbia home. Graham, a friend of mine, followed close behind, and four other strangers came in after.
"Who's house is this?" I asked as I swiftly shut a pair of gray curtains over the living room window.
Pastor Dylan closed and locked the front door. Then he turned to look through the peephole. "It's one of… theirs. They won't be using it anymore, so I figured we could hold up here until this mess gets sorted out."
Graham proceeded to close the curtains over the remaining windows, and one of the other four of our band of stragglers (an older woman) began checking the kitchen cupboards. "But what exactly *is\* this mess? What's even going on?" I asked, itching a patch of poison ivy I got a few days prior.
"I would ask that we all remain calm. The Lord has given us a test, and we are his chosen few that must survive it."
"A test? A fucking test?!" asked an older man, who I assumed was the partner of the woman perusing the kitchen.
"Don't raise your voice, Ed!" said a man who had to be around his mid-forties.
"You can't tell me what to fucking do, Matt! You shouldn't even be here, you piece of shit carjacker!" spat Ed as Pastor Dylan gingerly walked over to them.
"That was fifteen fucking years ago, Ed. When will you let it go? I was in a bad place, doing bad things. People can change, and I've been clean for all this time!"
"Let's not lose our heads. Not in a time of immense trial. We must all remain cohesive and steadfast in our mission from God," said Pastor Dylan, holding the crucifix swaying from his neck.
"Tell that to those psychopaths out there," said a younger woman in her early twenties.
"Oh, Mara, when will you learn to trust in the will of our Lord and savior? When will you accept his gift as it was bestowed upon you?" asked Pastor Dylan, getting too close to her.
"When you can explain the horror show outside. People are beating each other senselessly, killing their neighbors. Ravenous mouth-frothing lunatics ripping themselves limb from limb for seemingly *no\* reason. Explain how *that\* is a 'gift from God.'"
"Child, the gift is the ability to overcome this hardship. The test, now that is something I've yet to find the answer to. My hypothesis? Lucifer has finally come to wreak his unholy kingdom upon our fair town."
"Why?" began the older woman, emerging from the kitchen empty-handed. "Why Ridgewood? There wasn't anything on the news. Ed and I were sitting in our parlor watching TV when it all began, and none of it makes sense…"
"Maybe it started close to the new station, so they weren't able to get the word out fast enough?" said Graham, giving me a nod.
"Yeah, and we all barely made it here with our lives. The real question is, why aren't we affected?" I asked, plopping down on a well-worn couch.
"I've already told you, young Danny, we are God's chosen! We will bring forth his good kingdom against the evil of the devil. It's as simple as that," said Pastor Dylan.
"Forgive me if I can't subscribe to that level of zealotry, Father," said Matt, moving further away from Ed.
"Zealotry or not, we have come together to weather this storm! And we must all get along if we want to see the golden light of our heavenly sun."
"Well said, Dylan. As always," said the older woman.
"Thank you, Linda. Now, we have work to do. Graham and Danny, can you both search the rooms for anything useful? Ed and Linda, can you return to the kitchen and count our rations? Matt and I will keep watch for… them."
"I'm not sharing a house with that fucking criminal!" said Ed, pointing a condemning finger at Matt.
"Careful, old timer, you might pump that blood pressure up way too high for your heart to handle," said Matt, scowling.
"What did you say to me, punk!" asked Ed, but Pastor Dylan placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Ed, please. Pacify your nerves. The kingdom of heaven welcomes all who accept the Lord. Matt has been a devout visitor at the church for many, many years. I trust and forgive him for his past deeds."
"I just don't like him, Father. What if he's one of them?"
"One of them? I'm not one of those… things! If I was, don't you think I'd be trying to kill you right now?" asked Matt, cowering in a dark corner.
"Yeah, maybe. Or, you've just got some kind of control over it!" said Ed, spitting with each word.
"No more, Ed. Take Linda, and go to the kitchen. Please. We will discuss this further later," said Pastor Dylan.
Ed stared fiercely at Matt for a short time before huffing and walking with Linda toward the kitchen. When Pastor Dylan's eyes fell on Graham and me, we sprung up and ventured down the nearby, dimly lit hallway.
The home appeared to have seven doors. Two led to bedrooms, one to an office, one to a bathroom, and one to a closet. But the last door was locked by a heavy-duty master lock to which we didn't have the key.
"Father, do you know what's behind this door?" I asked, pulling on the lock.
"Door? Oh, I think it leads to a basement. Many of these homes tout a single story, but I've always said a basement counts as two!" he said with a friendly grin.
"They're outside," said Matt, peering through the living room curtain.
I quietly walked over to him as he moved away from the curtain. A roving group of at least fifty… people were passing through the street. Even from the window, I could see their bulging-red eyes and the white foam frothing from their seething mouths.
"Look at them all…" said Graham over my shoulder.
"Shh… We all need to whisper now. If they hear us, we're likely dead," I said, letting the curtain softly fall into place.
"What's going on out here?" asked Ed, far too loudly.
"Quiet down! They're in the street," said Matt.
"Fuck you. I don't care who's where just as long as *you\* ain't there!"
"Well, I am *here\,* old-timer. Deal with it. We can scrap when this is over if you still hate me."
"It would be my fucking pleasure," said Ed, cracking his knuckles.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I ducked. "What the hell was that?" I asked, darting my eyes all around.
"I… I think it came from below us," said Mara, putting her ear to the floor.
"Below? But there's a lock on the door–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Oh fuck. That was from outside," said Graham, moving away from the outer walls.
"Matt, go check," said Pastor Dylan, gripping his cross again.
Matt obliged, striding swiftly to the living room window. "Yeah, I think some of them heard that," he began. "They're pounding against the siding."
"I say we send him out there as a distraction. Buy us some more time," said Ed, crossing his arms tightly.
"Ed, please. Be reasonable. Could you really live with ending someone's life?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"Humph! No, I suppose not. But I still don't like him!"
"That's fine–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Fuck, what if they get in?" I asked, anxiety bubbling in my stomach.
"Everyone be quiet. They might go away if we keep our voices down…" said Pastor Dylan.
"And what about the sound in the basement?" asked Mara, casting her gaze on the basement door.
"We'll deal with that *after\* they leave us alone," said Pastor Dylan.
"Father, we still don't even know what *they\* are," said Linda, holding onto Ed's arm. He seemed displeased by her touch.
"Yeah, maybe they just need help?" said Graham optimistically.
"No, dude. Did you not see Justin and his mom? They were destroying each other. Nobody in their right mind would gnaw their own son's arm off," I said. The statement made me shudder.
"So, are they… zombies?" asked Matt.
"Fucking moron. Of course they're not zombies! They must be high on something. Some new age shit that's driving them crazy," said Ed, though I wasn't sure he believed any of it.
"They have become servants of hell. What more do you need to know?" said Pastor Dylan.
Matt moved over to the curtain again. "It looks like they've lost interest. From here, they don't look much like zombies. But they bite flesh, and that speaks on the contrary…"
"They're *not\* zombies," said Ed, growing further irate.
"Maybe it's some kind of airborne thing?" suggested Mara.
"If that were true, why weren't we affected?" I asked, scratching the poison ivy again.
"I've already told you all," began Pastor Dylan. "We are warriors of God. We will bring about the new world."
"We're in the clear. For now," said Matt, moving away from the curtain.
"Father, don't you think it's a bit odd that only seven of us were 'chosen'? Surely it would take an army to stop such a destructive force," I said, looking at Mara, who was picking at her cuticles.
"As a man of faith. It is the only possible conclusion. I see havoc, terror, and fear in the eyes of all of you. Only the vileness of Lucifer could create such things. If any of you have evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."
"None of us know anything…" said Mara quietly.
BANG… BAAAAANNNGG!
"That was downstairs again," I said.
"Matt, the curtains," said Pastor Dylan.
"No, there aren't any around," said Matt.
"What the fuck is that sound?" asked Ed.
"Ed, darling, please stop swearing so much…" pleaded Linda.
"Sorry, honey. My blood pressure is through the roof."
Linda smiled endearingly at him as Pastor Dylan checked the basement door. He jiggled the lock and felt above the door frame. "Did you two happen to find a key ring during your search?" he asked Graham and me.
"No, nothing," said Graham, turning out his pockets.
"There wasn't much of anything in those rooms, Father. Mostly clothes and electronics," I said, continuing to watch Mara dig at her skin.
"The key has to be somewhere…" said Pastor Dylan unassuredly.
"What if the keys are with… you know, the owners of the home?" I asked.
"Patty and Jeff always traveled lightly. I can’t imagine they would bring a key to their basement door whenever they left."
"But, Father. It could have been on a keyring. You asked us yourself to look for one, thinking that one already existed. It could be that today they decided to bring it with them, in which case, we're fucked," I said, shooting a glance at Graham, who swallowed nervously.
"I have a hunch that the key is somewhere in this house. But night is approaching, and I'm sure we're all hungry," said Pastor Dylan.
"I don't know how anyone could have an appetite after what we saw out there…" said Mara, burying her face between her knees.
"You have to eat, Mara. You'll be of no help to anyone malnourished and exhausted," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yeah, and we can't have you wasting away!" said Graham, smiling at her.
"We've got all the makings of spaghetti, that'll be a filling meal for all of us, and hopefully, there will be more information tomorrow…" said Linda from the kitchen.
"Remember to keep your voices down. We know they're attracted to sound. Even the slightest utterance could send them stampeding toward us," said Pastor Dylan, receding into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To search the rooms again. I don't know how much I trust leaving discovery to a couple of twenty-somethings," he said, winking at me.
"Suit yourself," I said, kicking my legs up on the couch.
Graham sat in a chair next to the living room window and occasionally peered at the street. I figured if something dangerous was close by, he would notify us. Mara laid on the floor; I couldn’t imagine it was comfortable.
Linda and Ed kept as quiet as they could in the kitchen. Sometimes the banging of pots and pans would ring out. Each time put me further on edge, but Graham never said anything, so the sound must have been quiet enough. My stomach rumbled when the pleasant smell of beef cooking wafted through the air.
I was starving. I hadn't eaten all day. But having spent all my energy running left me without the willpower to stay awake.
I closed my eyes and passed out.
Graham shook me awake about two hours later, or so the clock said. For some reason, I wasn't sure they were working. "Hey, man. Food's been done for quite a while, but everyone agreed that it was best to let you get some shut-eye. Pastor Dylan said we'd need to take shifts staying awake to watch the street, so get some leftovers in the kitchen."
"What?... Oh, sorry… I'm way out of it. Give me a moment to collect my head," I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
"No worries. There's plenty of food left, so help yourself.
"Don't take too much. We need to make this last," said Ed, glaring at me from the chair Graham had been sitting in.
"I won't. I don't eat that much," I said, lying through my teeth.
"Just hurry up, Danny. We'll need your eyes to help keep us safe," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yes, Father," I said, groggily rising to my feet.
BANG, BANG, BAAANG, BANG!
"Shit! There it is again," I said.
"Believe it or not, that's been going on since about ten minutes after you passed out," said Mara.
"Really? Do we have any idea what it is?"
"No, Mara says she can't hear anything whenever she puts her ear to the floor," said Matt from across the room.
"Nobody fucking asked you," said Ed.
"Ed, stop! Why must you start petty squabbles amid the chaos?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Father. I can't seem to keep my mind off it."
"Well, see to it that you do. Sooner rather than later," said Pastor Dylan as he faced the basement door.
"Wait, did you find the key?" I asked.
"No, it's the strangest thing. I found a keyring in a room that Graham had apparently searched and somehow missed. Regardless, none of the keys go to this lock. I can't make heads or tails of it," he said, glancing curiously at Graham.
"Don't look at me," said Graham, sitting in the indent on the couch I had created.
"Maybe it'll turn up later. We need to figure out what's down there because the more noise in here, the more awful things out there want in," I said, beginning to walk to the kitchen.
"They aren't 'things,' they're people…" said Linda, clinging onto Ed.
"Right… people," I said, disappearing from the living room. The spaghetti was cold. Also, no one would let me use the microwave, which made it taste like three-day-old dog food (don't ask how I know that.) But I scarfed it down and rejoined the others, who were all deadly quiet.
Mara was asleep on the floor, Ed and Linda sat on the other end of the couch, Matt sat against a wall, eyes closed, and Pastor Dylan was still examining the basement door.
"Ready to watch?" he asked as I approached him.
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you going to rest?"
"I think I'll inspect the rooms a little longer before settling in. I've got a feeling the key is closer than we know."
"What do you think is down there?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"I've been contemplating that since we first heard the banging. Maybe one got in? That's about all I can conclude at this moment."
"If that were the case, wouldn't they climb the stairs and bang on the other side of the door?"
"You've got a point. But what makes sense anymore?" he asked, looking down at his cross.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm sure we'll find a way out of this."
"It's good to have optimism," he began timidly. “Take a place by the window, and if anything happens, alert us *quietly\*."
"Will do," I said as he smiled reassuringly. The wooden chair next to the window wouldn't make for comfortable sitting, but its hardness meant I wouldn't fall asleep quickly.
Things had been progressing rapidly. I hadn't had a moment to think about the eerie turn of events. Our town of Ridgewood had gone mad. It was as if lunacy was carried on the winds, infecting the minds of many. Why were we unaffected? I couldn't say, and I wasn't sure I believed Pastor Dylan's proclamation of holy war.
But the people in town had turned on one another. Some form of rabies, maybe? For no apparent reason, they started killing anyone who wasn't as hostile as they were by any means necessary, and their lust for annihilation was insatiable.
However, they had devolved into a more primal aspect—one unfettered by the woes of the human condition. And as I sat there, peering behind the curtain, utter havoc was all to behold. Cars turned over, buildings were on fire, and trash lay strewn about the streets.
The flickering street lamps showed signs of power failure, and I wondered if we'd soon be living in the dark. But I couldn't stare out for long because seeing severed extremities, pools of blood, and other viscera unsettled my stomach.
"Anything out there–"
"Oh shit, Graham! Don't sneak up on me, please," I said, breathing rapidly.
"Sorry, I was just curious," he said, shrugging.
"If you're curious, look out there yourself."
"I would rather not. It's nightmare fuel."
"And you think I would? I'd much prefer to be sleeping like nearly everyone else."
He looked left. Then right. And then behind him before leaning closer. "You know that key? The one Pastor Dylan is looking for? Well, I found it. I've been keeping it a secret because I'm afraid of what's in the basement…"
"*You have it?!\"* I asked in a harsh whisper.
"Shhh! Don't tell anyone, please! Especially not Pastor Dylan," said Graham, patting the outside of his jacket pocket.
"Why shouldn't we tell him? What if there's a bunch of useful supplies stashed down there?"
"Because he doesn't seem… right. I think he's become too infatuated with that door and what's behind it. I worry about the ladder. Is it some kind of mon–"
BANG, BANG!
BANG, BANG, BAAAAANG, *BANG!\*
Everyone who was sleeping shot awake. Pastor Dylan pressed his ear against the basement door and held his finger to his lips. Mara kept her ear on the floor. Matt started biting his nails, and Ed and Linda held each other tightly.
Whispering across the room, I asked, "Father, what is it?"
"I think whatever *is\* down there is tearing the place apart. It sounds like toppling shelves. Check outside, now."
I looked outside but saw no cause for alarm. "The coast is clear. For now."
"Good. If only we could find that damn key! Blast it all!" said Pastor Dylan, lightly laying his balled fist against the door.
Knock… knock… knock.
"Don't knock, Father!" whispered Graham.
"I… I didn't," he said, stepping away from the door.
"What's all the racket?" asked Ed. Cantankerous as always.
"Whatever's downstairs seems to be trying to get our attention…" I said, a shiver starting at the base of my spine.
"Well, let's see what they want!" said Ed as he rose from the couch.
Pastor Dylan blocked the door. "No! We can't open it because we don't have the key! You would make far too much noise!"
"I don't care anymore! I'm sick of all the raucous coming from down there!" spat Ed as he rushed towards Pastor Dylan.
"Ed, no!" said Matt, trying to intercept him.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" demanded Ed, stopping to point his finger at Matt.
I looked outside, hoping to see more of the same. Instead, a crowd of more than fifteen strong were wandering up the street right past the house we were in. Matt and Ed's argument grew louder, and as it did, heads began to turn.
"Hey, guys?" I said without taking my eyes off the street.
"Once again, I don't know why you're still here! We should send you outside right now!" shouted Ed, approaching Matt.
"Get your finger out of my face, you old fuck!" Matt shouted back.
"Gentleman, please!" protested Pastor Dylan.
"Guys!" I shouted louder than everyone. What did it matter anyway?
"*What is it, Danny?!\*" asked Ed gruffly.
"They're fucking coming!"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
They started pounding on the house, clawing at the siding, and tearing it off. "What do we do?!" asked Graham worriedly.
"We need to be quiet, for one!" said Pastor Dylan.
"Everyone, *shut the fuck up!\*" said Mara; it seemed she had had enough.
While we all quieted down, the relentless threat outside continued their attempt at breaking down the walls. "What if they get in?..." asked Linda, standing to hide behind Ed.
"Shh!" hushed Pastor Dylan.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
"They're not stopping," I said just loud enough to be heard by Matt, who relayed it to Pastor Dylan.
SMASH!
"What was that?!" asked Graham fearfully.
"It sounded like a window!" said Mara, looking down the hall.
"Have they got inside?" asked Matt.
BANG, KNOCK, KNOCK, BAAAAANG!
"That came from down the hall!" said Pastor Dylan.
"We need to get the fuck out of here!" said Ed, shielding Linda.
"And where are we supposed to go?!" asked Matt confrontationally.
"I've been waiting for this, you fucker!" said Ed as he took a big swing at Matt.
Matt ducked and punched Ed in the thigh, causing him to howl in anguish. Pastor Dylan tried to get between them, but it was no use. Ed and Matt began grappling down the hall, knocking each other into the walls and against low-hanging paintings.
It wasn't long until blood smear speckled their faces. All the while, the banging from outside and inside continued. Mara tried to console Linda, but she was overwrought, shaking, and crying like a scared child. Pastor Dylan stared at Graham and me; it looked like he was about to run out the front door.
Suddenly, a separate door in the hall burst open, and more than five individuals poured into the hallway. The grunting and huffing from Matt and Ed transitioned into terrifying cries of agony. Linda ran from Mara into the hall, and within seconds, her blood-chilling screams entered the air.
I looked at Graham, whose eyes were on me. "The key, Graham! Now!"
"R-right!" he said as he fumbled with his pocket.
"Wait, the key?!" asked Pastor Dylan.
"We'll explain later! Let's just get downstairs!" I shouted, racing over to the basement door with Graham and Mara.
Graham's hands shook terribly as he desperately tried to unlock the door. It took the steady, interrupting hand of Pastor Dylan to open it. The moment the door opened, we all stumbled inside and swiftly shut it.
And for some unknown reason, all sound dissipated. Like the basement was proofed for noise. It was so quiet. You wouldn't think Linda, Matt, and Ed were being torn apart at the sinews of their muscles that very moment. But it was also dark, and standing on steps in the dark was a recipe for a broken neck.
"Does anyone have a light?" I asked quietly.
"Feel for a switch!" said Pastor Dylan.
I reached out and accidentally grazed Mara's eye. "Ow!" she said, smacking my hand away.
"I'm sorry, Mara! I can't fucking see!"
"Well, I *really\* won't be able to see if you gouge my fucking eyes out!"
"Enough, you two!" began Pastor Dylan. "Find a switch, or we'll be worse off than beyond that door."
I tried again, gently brushing my hands through the air. By a stroke of luck, I came across a very webbed switch and flicked it.
Light. But then I remembered something…
What was in the basement making all that noise?
I think the others made the same realization because they each immediately faced the bottom of the stairs. And yet, it was as silent as an empty church. Pastor Dylan, wasting no time, quietly asked, "Is someone down there?"
I thought I heard shuffling against concrete, but it was so faint that it might have been my hair brushing against the wall next to me. "Are we alone?" asked Mara.
"I'm not sure," said Pastor Dylan.
"Can we just go down and see?" asked Graham, seeming antsy.
"Fine. But go with caution," said Pastor Dylan.
We crept down, the steps creaking under our mass. The basement was illuminated by only two lightbulbs fixed in the ceiling. It wasn't enough to brighten every corner, but it was enough to see the abysmal state of the entire basement.
The shelves Pastor Dylan mentioned before our descent were tipped over, and canned goods spilled across the concrete floor. There was no sign of life aside from us, and both narrow windows near the top of the basement wall were intact. No one had broken in.
Did we imagine it?
“Well, there goes our chance at survival,” said Graham, nodding toward the spilled goods.
“Nonsense, we’ll make do. We must have faith in our Lord that he will provide the necessary means for our survival,” said Pastor Dylan, rubbing his hands together.
Then a muffled and restricted sound arose from one of the darkened corners. It sounded like someone attempting to speak through a duct tape-covered mouth. “Wh-who’s there?” I asked, squinting into the darkness.
More stifled noises arose—the sounds of struggling. I stepped forward, but Pastor Dylan stopped me with his hand. “What is it, Father?” I asked, turning to see his confusingly-wide eyes.
“Th-this isn’t possible…” he said, barely allowing the words to leave his lips.
“What isn’t possible?” asked Mara timidly.
He whispered, bringing his sweaty palm to his face, "Th-that's... It's... me..."
“You?... What?” I asked, brushing past him to walk further into the room. And then, a figure emerged from the corner, wearing tattered vestments, and covered in filth.
It was the spitting image of Pastor Dylan.
His hands were bound, and his mouth was ball gagged. His knuckles were red and bruised—he must have been hitting something excruciatingly hard to produce the banging sounds we were hearing when we were upstairs. On instinct, I began rushing over to remove the gag, but Pastor Dylan swiftly protested, “Wait!” he began, marching up to meet me. “We don’t know what’s going on here, so before we do anything rash, let’s think about this.”
“Think about what?” I asked him, “They look just like you! Maybe they know what’s going on and can give us answers?”
“I agree,” said Mara, cautiously surveying the room. There was an unopened door to my left with bloodstains on it. The wood was laden with claw-like markings as if a wild animal was desperate to reach whatever lay beyond it.
THUMP, THUMP, THUUUUMP, THUMP!
The floor above shook violently, many heavy stomping footsteps traveling throughout the house. I looked at the clone of Pastor Dylan, who was staring up at the ceiling fearfully. He began uttering incoherent sentences, frantic and trembling.
"Fuck this, I'm not waiting any longer!" said Graham as he approached the bound Pastor Dylan and pulled the ball gag off.
He immediately shouted, "Step away from him! He's an imposter!"
Pastor Dylan, the first one, stood silently. "Imposter?" asked Mara curiously, staring at the petrified pastor.
"Yes! He's a watcher! A guardian for those things out there! He's supposed to herd people into one spot and then attract the runners!"
"Th… that's not true…" said Pastor Dylan.
"You won't remember it! It's primal instinct! The owners of this home, Patty and Jeff, were some of the first to begin acting strangely. I came to ask why they hadn't come to church for over a month, and they lulled me into a false sense of security! Before I knew it, I was trapped down here…"
"What's behind that door?" asked Graham curiously.
"I have no idea! I couldn’t get a peek before it was closed for the final time. Nothing good, I'm certain of that!"
"And how do *you\* know all this? About them and those things?" I asked, keeping my distance from both pastors.
"Because Patty and Jeff told me. They revealed everything to me. That imposter standing next to you can hardly speak! Shouldn't that tell you something? Why would he be at a loss for words if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the *real\* Pastor Dylan?"
"Father?" Graham asked the speechless Pastor.
"I… I… You've fucking ruined everything!" he shouted as he rushed at the other, still-bound pastor. Mara stood between them but got knocked to the floor like a ragdoll. Graham swiftly moved to kneel by her side. The dangerously aggressive Pastor Dylan tackled the other, and they began thrashing about in a dance of violence.
I had a choice. Either help Graham and Mara, ignoring the strange turn of events, or join the fray and attempt to assist one of the pastors.
I chose the former because I didn't want to be responsible for anyone's death if it came to that. Mara was muttering faintly; she was dazed and bleeding from the back of her head.
Both pastors continued brawling. The other pastor tore his bindings during the rumble as they rolled towards the stairs, leaving bits of skin, fingernails, hair, and blood in their wake. The scuffle proceeded up the steps, followed by incoherent shouting.
Mara started coming around just as I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, only for it to shut immediately after. Then a roaring charge of footsteps trampled above us; it sounded like a herd of bulls falling to the floor from the ceiling.
Little streams of dust cascaded from the unfinished basement ceiling into my hair. Mara turned on her side so Graham and I could check her wound. It wasn't deep and seemed superficial.
Then all noise in the house stopped as if we had suddenly teleported to a realm of emptiness.
Graham looked at me, eyes watering, and asked, "Is it over? Will we be left alone now?"
"I don't know, my friend. I'm not strong enough to go upstairs and check."
"Am I okay?" asked Mara, her light-brown hair stained red.
"Yes, you'll be fine. Maybe there's something around here we can use to clean that up," I said, rising to my feet.
"Don't worry, Mara. Danny and I will keep you safe," said Graham, remaining at her side.
I rummaged through every piece of furniture, checked every shelf, toppled or otherwise, and delved into every dusty corner. There was nothing but webs and long-dead insects.
But there was still that door. The one with bloodstains on it. The one I had avoided for the sake of cowardice, hoping to subvert the need to search beyond it. Something deep inside me resisted every demanding urge to open it like I already knew what I'd find and couldn't bear to see it.
As I walked up to it, Graham piped up, "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"I couldn't find anything out here. Maybe Patty and Jeff stored more supplies in whatever room this leads to…"
"Graham's right, Danny. I'll be fine soon enough. We should all stay out here safely," said Mara, not sounding like herself.
"A part of me agrees with you, but another must satisfy my blooming curiosity," I said, reaching out to grip the tarnished doorknob.
Mara and Graham both said something, at the same time, that sounded like, "We tried to warn you…" Just as I turned the knob.
A horrible stench flew right up my nose. It was the smell of putrefaction---rotten meat. I squeezed my nostrils as a string dangling from the ceiling slapped my face. Reluctantly, I pulled it to light an old bulb, brown with age. But on the floor, stacked in a pile, was a mass of bodies.
And in that mass were the bodies of Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, and Graham.
I turned tail and retreated right into one of the darkened corners of the main basement. Graham and Mara only stared as I did, watching like apathetic sentinels. The synapses in my brain shocked me into a false paralysis. I couldn't even speak.
Ten minutes must have passed before my breathing calmed and I regained the use of my hands. It felt like breaking free of rigor mortis as if I had been dead for that short time. But worst of all was that Graham and Mara remained quiet. They didn't take their eyes off me the entire time or offer me any help.
"Wh-what is that in there?..." I managed to ask, though they said nothing. "Are you two… real?" I questioned further but received crickets in response.
I've been writing this transcript ever since. I hope this allows you to understand what happened in Ridgewood. On the hour, every hour, Graham and Mara shuffle a little closer. I’m not sure what they're waiting for. But each time it happens, a dreadful chill erupts from the pit of my stomach. And yet, I'm too afraid to go upstairs away from them.
There is something else too. I did say there was a mass of bodies, but I never said how many. And that's because there were six: Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, Graham and…
Me.
My body was decaying amongst the festering. That was the real reason I ran out so quickly.
Am I real? Am I still Danny Haronfield? How could this happen? *When\* did this happen?
They just moved closer.
Should I have stayed out in the street? You know what they say. If you can't beat them, join them.
It won't be long now, but you know what? I wish I ate more of that spaghetti. I'm fucking starving.

"Hurry, everyone! Get in the house now! We can't delay. They'll catch up to us any moment!" shouted Dylan, Ridgewood’s communal pastor.
I brushed past him into the quaint (and ordinary) white-picket-fence blue suburbia home. Graham, a friend of mine, followed close behind, and four other strangers came in after.
"Who's house is this?" I asked as I swiftly shut a pair of gray curtains over the living room window.
Pastor Dylan closed and locked the front door. Then he turned to look through the peephole. "It's one of… theirs. They won't be using it anymore, so I figured we could hold up here until this mess gets sorted out."
Graham proceeded to close the curtains over the remaining windows, and one of the other four of our band of stragglers (an older woman) began checking the kitchen cupboards. "But what exactly *is\* this mess? What's even going on?" I asked, itching a patch of poison ivy I got a few days prior.
"I would ask that we all remain calm. The Lord has given us a test, and we are his chosen few that must survive it."
"A test? A fucking test?!" asked an older man, who I assumed was the partner of the woman perusing the kitchen.
"Don't raise your voice, Ed!" said a man who had to be around his mid-forties.
"You can't tell me what to fucking do, Matt! You shouldn't even be here, you piece of shit carjacker!" spat Ed as Pastor Dylan gingerly walked over to them.
"That was fifteen fucking years ago, Ed. When will you let it go? I was in a bad place, doing bad things. People can change, and I've been clean for all this time!"
"Let's not lose our heads. Not in a time of immense trial. We must all remain cohesive and steadfast in our mission from God," said Pastor Dylan, holding the crucifix swaying from his neck.
"Tell that to those psychopaths out there," said a younger woman in her early twenties.
"Oh, Mara, when will you learn to trust in the will of our Lord and savior? When will you accept his gift as it was bestowed upon you?" asked Pastor Dylan, getting too close to her.
"When you can explain the horror show outside. People are beating each other senselessly, killing their neighbors. Ravenous mouth-frothing lunatics ripping themselves limb from limb for seemingly *no\* reason. Explain how *that\* is a 'gift from God.'"
"Child, the gift is the ability to overcome this hardship. The test, now that is something I've yet to find the answer to. My hypothesis? Lucifer has finally come to wreak his unholy kingdom upon our fair town."
"Why?" began the older woman, emerging from the kitchen empty-handed. "Why Ridgewood? There wasn't anything on the news. Ed and I were sitting in our parlor watching TV when it all began, and none of it makes sense…"
"Maybe it started close to the new station, so they weren't able to get the word out fast enough?" said Graham, giving me a nod.
"Yeah, and we all barely made it here with our lives. The real question is, why aren't we affected?" I asked, plopping down on a well-worn couch.
"I've already told you, young Danny, we are God's chosen! We will bring forth his good kingdom against the evil of the devil. It's as simple as that," said Pastor Dylan.
"Forgive me if I can't subscribe to that level of zealotry, Father," said Matt, moving further away from Ed.
"Zealotry or not, we have come together to weather this storm! And we must all get along if we want to see the golden light of our heavenly sun."
"Well said, Dylan. As always," said the older woman.
"Thank you, Linda. Now, we have work to do. Graham and Danny, can you both search the rooms for anything useful? Ed and Linda, can you return to the kitchen and count our rations? Matt and I will keep watch for… them."
"I'm not sharing a house with that fucking criminal!" said Ed, pointing a condemning finger at Matt.
"Careful, old timer, you might pump that blood pressure up way too high for your heart to handle," said Matt, scowling.
"What did you say to me, punk!" asked Ed, but Pastor Dylan placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Ed, please. Pacify your nerves. The kingdom of heaven welcomes all who accept the Lord. Matt has been a devout visitor at the church for many, many years. I trust and forgive him for his past deeds."
"I just don't like him, Father. What if he's one of them?"
"One of them? I'm not one of those… things! If I was, don't you think I'd be trying to kill you right now?" asked Matt, cowering in a dark corner.
"Yeah, maybe. Or, you've just got some kind of control over it!" said Ed, spitting with each word.
"No more, Ed. Take Linda, and go to the kitchen. Please. We will discuss this further later," said Pastor Dylan.
Ed stared fiercely at Matt for a short time before huffing and walking with Linda toward the kitchen. When Pastor Dylan's eyes fell on Graham and me, we sprung up and ventured down the nearby, dimly lit hallway.
The home appeared to have seven doors. Two led to bedrooms, one to an office, one to a bathroom, and one to a closet. But the last door was locked by a heavy-duty master lock to which we didn't have the key.
"Father, do you know what's behind this door?" I asked, pulling on the lock.
"Door? Oh, I think it leads to a basement. Many of these homes tout a single story, but I've always said a basement counts as two!" he said with a friendly grin.
"They're outside," said Matt, peering through the living room curtain.
I quietly walked over to him as he moved away from the curtain. A roving group of at least fifty… people were passing through the street. Even from the window, I could see their bulging-red eyes and the white foam frothing from their seething mouths.
"Look at them all…" said Graham over my shoulder.
"Shh… We all need to whisper now. If they hear us, we're likely dead," I said, letting the curtain softly fall into place.
"What's going on out here?" asked Ed, far too loudly.
"Quiet down! They're in the street," said Matt.
"Fuck you. I don't care who's where just as long as *you\* ain't there!"
"Well, I am *here\,* old-timer. Deal with it. We can scrap when this is over if you still hate me."
"It would be my fucking pleasure," said Ed, cracking his knuckles.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I ducked. "What the hell was that?" I asked, darting my eyes all around.
"I… I think it came from below us," said Mara, putting her ear to the floor.
"Below? But there's a lock on the door–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Oh fuck. That was from outside," said Graham, moving away from the outer walls.
"Matt, go check," said Pastor Dylan, gripping his cross again.
Matt obliged, striding swiftly to the living room window. "Yeah, I think some of them heard that," he began. "They're pounding against the siding."
"I say we send him out there as a distraction. Buy us some more time," said Ed, crossing his arms tightly.
"Ed, please. Be reasonable. Could you really live with ending someone's life?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"Humph! No, I suppose not. But I still don't like him!"
"That's fine–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Fuck, what if they get in?" I asked, anxiety bubbling in my stomach.
"Everyone be quiet. They might go away if we keep our voices down…" said Pastor Dylan.
"And what about the sound in the basement?" asked Mara, casting her gaze on the basement door.
"We'll deal with that *after\* they leave us alone," said Pastor Dylan.
"Father, we still don't even know what *they\* are," said Linda, holding onto Ed's arm. He seemed displeased by her touch.
"Yeah, maybe they just need help?" said Graham optimistically.
"No, dude. Did you not see Justin and his mom? They were destroying each other. Nobody in their right mind would gnaw their own son's arm off," I said. The statement made me shudder.
"So, are they… zombies?" asked Matt.
"Fucking moron. Of course they're not zombies! They must be high on something. Some new age shit that's driving them crazy," said Ed, though I wasn't sure he believed any of it.
"They have become servants of hell. What more do you need to know?" said Pastor Dylan.
Matt moved over to the curtain again. "It looks like they've lost interest. From here, they don't look much like zombies. But they bite flesh, and that speaks on the contrary…"
"They're *not\* zombies," said Ed, growing further irate.
"Maybe it's some kind of airborne thing?" suggested Mara.
"If that were true, why weren't we affected?" I asked, scratching the poison ivy again.
"I've already told you all," began Pastor Dylan. "We are warriors of God. We will bring about the new world."
"We're in the clear. For now," said Matt, moving away from the curtain.
"Father, don't you think it's a bit odd that only seven of us were 'chosen'? Surely it would take an army to stop such a destructive force," I said, looking at Mara, who was picking at her cuticles.
"As a man of faith. It is the only possible conclusion. I see havoc, terror, and fear in the eyes of all of you. Only the vileness of Lucifer could create such things. If any of you have evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."
"None of us know anything…" said Mara quietly.
BANG… BAAAAANNNGG!
"That was downstairs again," I said.
"Matt, the curtains," said Pastor Dylan.
"No, there aren't any around," said Matt.
"What the fuck is that sound?" asked Ed.
"Ed, darling, please stop swearing so much…" pleaded Linda.
"Sorry, honey. My blood pressure is through the roof."
Linda smiled endearingly at him as Pastor Dylan checked the basement door. He jiggled the lock and felt above the door frame. "Did you two happen to find a key ring during your search?" he asked Graham and me.
"No, nothing," said Graham, turning out his pockets.
"There wasn't much of anything in those rooms, Father. Mostly clothes and electronics," I said, continuing to watch Mara dig at her skin.
"The key has to be somewhere…" said Pastor Dylan unassuredly.
"What if the keys are with… you know, the owners of the home?" I asked.
"Patty and Jeff always traveled lightly. I can’t imagine they would bring a key to their basement door whenever they left."
"But, Father. It could have been on a keyring. You asked us yourself to look for one, thinking that one already existed. It could be that today they decided to bring it with them, in which case, we're fucked," I said, shooting a glance at Graham, who swallowed nervously.
"I have a hunch that the key is somewhere in this house. But night is approaching, and I'm sure we're all hungry," said Pastor Dylan.
"I don't know how anyone could have an appetite after what we saw out there…" said Mara, burying her face between her knees.
"You have to eat, Mara. You'll be of no help to anyone malnourished and exhausted," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yeah, and we can't have you wasting away!" said Graham, smiling at her.
"We've got all the makings of spaghetti, that'll be a filling meal for all of us, and hopefully, there will be more information tomorrow…" said Linda from the kitchen.
"Remember to keep your voices down. We know they're attracted to sound. Even the slightest utterance could send them stampeding toward us," said Pastor Dylan, receding into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To search the rooms again. I don't know how much I trust leaving discovery to a couple of twenty-somethings," he said, winking at me.
"Suit yourself," I said, kicking my legs up on the couch.
Graham sat in a chair next to the living room window and occasionally peered at the street. I figured if something dangerous was close by, he would notify us. Mara laid on the floor; I couldn’t imagine it was comfortable.
Linda and Ed kept as quiet as they could in the kitchen. Sometimes the banging of pots and pans would ring out. Each time put me further on edge, but Graham never said anything, so the sound must have been quiet enough. My stomach rumbled when the pleasant smell of beef cooking wafted through the air.
I was starving. I hadn't eaten all day. But having spent all my energy running left me without the willpower to stay awake.
I closed my eyes and passed out.
Graham shook me awake about two hours later, or so the clock said. For some reason, I wasn't sure they were working. "Hey, man. Food's been done for quite a while, but everyone agreed that it was best to let you get some shut-eye. Pastor Dylan said we'd need to take shifts staying awake to watch the street, so get some leftovers in the kitchen."
"What?... Oh, sorry… I'm way out of it. Give me a moment to collect my head," I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
"No worries. There's plenty of food left, so help yourself.
"Don't take too much. We need to make this last," said Ed, glaring at me from the chair Graham had been sitting in.
"I won't. I don't eat that much," I said, lying through my teeth.
"Just hurry up, Danny. We'll need your eyes to help keep us safe," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yes, Father," I said, groggily rising to my feet.
BANG, BANG, BAAANG, BANG!
"Shit! There it is again," I said.
"Believe it or not, that's been going on since about ten minutes after you passed out," said Mara.
"Really? Do we have any idea what it is?"
"No, Mara says she can't hear anything whenever she puts her ear to the floor," said Matt from across the room.
"Nobody fucking asked you," said Ed.
"Ed, stop! Why must you start petty squabbles amid the chaos?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Father. I can't seem to keep my mind off it."
"Well, see to it that you do. Sooner rather than later," said Pastor Dylan as he faced the basement door.
"Wait, did you find the key?" I asked.
"No, it's the strangest thing. I found a keyring in a room that Graham had apparently searched and somehow missed. Regardless, none of the keys go to this lock. I can't make heads or tails of it," he said, glancing curiously at Graham.
"Don't look at me," said Graham, sitting in the indent on the couch I had created.
"Maybe it'll turn up later. We need to figure out what's down there because the more noise in here, the more awful things out there want in," I said, beginning to walk to the kitchen.
"They aren't 'things,' they're people…" said Linda, clinging onto Ed.
"Right… people," I said, disappearing from the living room. The spaghetti was cold. Also, no one would let me use the microwave, which made it taste like three-day-old dog food (don't ask how I know that.) But I scarfed it down and rejoined the others, who were all deadly quiet.
Mara was asleep on the floor, Ed and Linda sat on the other end of the couch, Matt sat against a wall, eyes closed, and Pastor Dylan was still examining the basement door.
"Ready to watch?" he asked as I approached him.
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you going to rest?"
"I think I'll inspect the rooms a little longer before settling in. I've got a feeling the key is closer than we know."
"What do you think is down there?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"I've been contemplating that since we first heard the banging. Maybe one got in? That's about all I can conclude at this moment."
"If that were the case, wouldn't they climb the stairs and bang on the other side of the door?"
"You've got a point. But what makes sense anymore?" he asked, looking down at his cross.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm sure we'll find a way out of this."
"It's good to have optimism," he began timidly. “Take a place by the window, and if anything happens, alert us *quietly\*."
"Will do," I said as he smiled reassuringly. The wooden chair next to the window wouldn't make for comfortable sitting, but its hardness meant I wouldn't fall asleep quickly.
Things had been progressing rapidly. I hadn't had a moment to think about the eerie turn of events. Our town of Ridgewood had gone mad. It was as if lunacy was carried on the winds, infecting the minds of many. Why were we unaffected? I couldn't say, and I wasn't sure I believed Pastor Dylan's proclamation of holy war.
But the people in town had turned on one another. Some form of rabies, maybe? For no apparent reason, they started killing anyone who wasn't as hostile as they were by any means necessary, and their lust for annihilation was insatiable.
However, they had devolved into a more primal aspect—one unfettered by the woes of the human condition. And as I sat there, peering behind the curtain, utter havoc was all to behold. Cars turned over, buildings were on fire, and trash lay strewn about the streets.
The flickering street lamps showed signs of power failure, and I wondered if we'd soon be living in the dark. But I couldn't stare out for long because seeing severed extremities, pools of blood, and other viscera unsettled my stomach.
"Anything out there–"
"Oh shit, Graham! Don't sneak up on me, please," I said, breathing rapidly.
"Sorry, I was just curious," he said, shrugging.
"If you're curious, look out there yourself."
"I would rather not. It's nightmare fuel."
"And you think I would? I'd much prefer to be sleeping like nearly everyone else."
He looked left. Then right. And then behind him before leaning closer. "You know that key? The one Pastor Dylan is looking for? Well, I found it. I've been keeping it a secret because I'm afraid of what's in the basement…"
"*You have it?!\"* I asked in a harsh whisper.
"Shhh! Don't tell anyone, please! Especially not Pastor Dylan," said Graham, patting the outside of his jacket pocket.
"Why shouldn't we tell him? What if there's a bunch of useful supplies stashed down there?"
"Because he doesn't seem… right. I think he's become too infatuated with that door and what's behind it. I worry about the ladder. Is it some kind of mon–"
BANG, BANG!
BANG, BANG, BAAAAANG, *BANG!\*
Everyone who was sleeping shot awake. Pastor Dylan pressed his ear against the basement door and held his finger to his lips. Mara kept her ear on the floor. Matt started biting his nails, and Ed and Linda held each other tightly.
Whispering across the room, I asked, "Father, what is it?"
"I think whatever *is\* down there is tearing the place apart. It sounds like toppling shelves. Check outside, now."
I looked outside but saw no cause for alarm. "The coast is clear. For now."
"Good. If only we could find that damn key! Blast it all!" said Pastor Dylan, lightly laying his balled fist against the door.
Knock… knock… knock.
"Don't knock, Father!" whispered Graham.
"I… I didn't," he said, stepping away from the door.
"What's all the racket?" asked Ed. Cantankerous as always.
"Whatever's downstairs seems to be trying to get our attention…" I said, a shiver starting at the base of my spine.
"Well, let's see what they want!" said Ed as he rose from the couch.
Pastor Dylan blocked the door. "No! We can't open it because we don't have the key! You would make far too much noise!"
"I don't care anymore! I'm sick of all the raucous coming from down there!" spat Ed as he rushed towards Pastor Dylan.
"Ed, no!" said Matt, trying to intercept him.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" demanded Ed, stopping to point his finger at Matt.
I looked outside, hoping to see more of the same. Instead, a crowd of more than fifteen strong were wandering up the street right past the house we were in. Matt and Ed's argument grew louder, and as it did, heads began to turn.
"Hey, guys?" I said without taking my eyes off the street.
"Once again, I don't know why you're still here! We should send you outside right now!" shouted Ed, approaching Matt.
"Get your finger out of my face, you old fuck!" Matt shouted back.
"Gentleman, please!" protested Pastor Dylan.
"Guys!" I shouted louder than everyone. What did it matter anyway?
"*What is it, Danny?!\*" asked Ed gruffly.
"They're fucking coming!"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
They started pounding on the house, clawing at the siding, and tearing it off. "What do we do?!" asked Graham worriedly.
"We need to be quiet, for one!" said Pastor Dylan.
"Everyone, *shut the fuck up!\*" said Mara; it seemed she had had enough.
While we all quieted down, the relentless threat outside continued their attempt at breaking down the walls. "What if they get in?..." asked Linda, standing to hide behind Ed.
"Shh!" hushed Pastor Dylan.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
"They're not stopping," I said just loud enough to be heard by Matt, who relayed it to Pastor Dylan.
SMASH!
"What was that?!" asked Graham fearfully.
"It sounded like a window!" said Mara, looking down the hall.
"Have they got inside?" asked Matt.
BANG, KNOCK, KNOCK, BAAAAANG!
"That came from down the hall!" said Pastor Dylan.
"We need to get the fuck out of here!" said Ed, shielding Linda.
"And where are we supposed to go?!" asked Matt confrontationally.
"I've been waiting for this, you fucker!" said Ed as he took a big swing at Matt.
Matt ducked and punched Ed in the thigh, causing him to howl in anguish. Pastor Dylan tried to get between them, but it was no use. Ed and Matt began grappling down the hall, knocking each other into the walls and against low-hanging paintings.
It wasn't long until blood smear speckled their faces. All the while, the banging from outside and inside continued. Mara tried to console Linda, but she was overwrought, shaking, and crying like a scared child. Pastor Dylan stared at Graham and me; it looked like he was about to run out the front door.
Suddenly, a separate door in the hall burst open, and more than five individuals poured into the hallway. The grunting and huffing from Matt and Ed transitioned into terrifying cries of agony. Linda ran from Mara into the hall, and within seconds, her blood-chilling screams entered the air.
I looked at Graham, whose eyes were on me. "The key, Graham! Now!"
"R-right!" he said as he fumbled with his pocket.
"Wait, the key?!" asked Pastor Dylan.
"We'll explain later! Let's just get downstairs!" I shouted, racing over to the basement door with Graham and Mara.
Graham's hands shook terribly as he desperately tried to unlock the door. It took the steady, interrupting hand of Pastor Dylan to open it. The moment the door opened, we all stumbled inside and swiftly shut it.
And for some unknown reason, all sound dissipated. Like the basement was proofed for noise. It was so quiet. You wouldn't think Linda, Matt, and Ed were being torn apart at the sinews of their muscles that very moment. But it was also dark, and standing on steps in the dark was a recipe for a broken neck.
"Does anyone have a light?" I asked quietly.
"Feel for a switch!" said Pastor Dylan.
I reached out and accidentally grazed Mara's eye. "Ow!" she said, smacking my hand away.
"I'm sorry, Mara! I can't fucking see!"
"Well, I *really\* won't be able to see if you gouge my fucking eyes out!"
"Enough, you two!" began Pastor Dylan. "Find a switch, or we'll be worse off than beyond that door."
I tried again, gently brushing my hands through the air. By a stroke of luck, I came across a very webbed switch and flicked it.
Light. But then I remembered something…
What was in the basement making all that noise?
I think the others made the same realization because they each immediately faced the bottom of the stairs. And yet, it was as silent as an empty church. Pastor Dylan, wasting no time, quietly asked, "Is someone down there?"
I thought I heard shuffling against concrete, but it was so faint that it might have been my hair brushing against the wall next to me. "Are we alone?" asked Mara.
"I'm not sure," said Pastor Dylan.
"Can we just go down and see?" asked Graham, seeming antsy.
"Fine. But go with caution," said Pastor Dylan.
We crept down, the steps creaking under our mass. The basement was illuminated by only two lightbulbs fixed in the ceiling. It wasn't enough to brighten every corner, but it was enough to see the abysmal state of the entire basement.
The shelves Pastor Dylan mentioned before our descent were tipped over, and canned goods spilled across the concrete floor. There was no sign of life aside from us, and both narrow windows near the top of the basement wall were intact. No one had broken in.
Did we imagine it?
“Well, there goes our chance at survival,” said Graham, nodding toward the spilled goods.
“Nonsense, we’ll make do. We must have faith in our Lord that he will provide the necessary means for our survival,” said Pastor Dylan, rubbing his hands together.
Then a muffled and restricted sound arose from one of the darkened corners. It sounded like someone attempting to speak through a duct tape-covered mouth. “Wh-who’s there?” I asked, squinting into the darkness.
More stifled noises arose—the sounds of struggling. I stepped forward, but Pastor Dylan stopped me with his hand. “What is it, Father?” I asked, turning to see his confusingly-wide eyes.
“Th-this isn’t possible…” he said, barely allowing the words to leave his lips.
“What isn’t possible?” asked Mara timidly.
He whispered, bringing his sweaty palm to his face, "Th-that's... It's... me..."
“You?... What?” I asked, brushing past him to walk further into the room. And then, a figure emerged from the corner, wearing tattered vestments, and covered in filth.
It was the spitting image of Pastor Dylan.
His hands were bound, and his mouth was ball gagged. His knuckles were red and bruised—he must have been hitting something excruciatingly hard to produce the banging sounds we were hearing when we were upstairs. On instinct, I began rushing over to remove the gag, but Pastor Dylan swiftly protested, “Wait!” he began, marching up to meet me. “We don’t know what’s going on here, so before we do anything rash, let’s think about this.”
“Think about what?” I asked him, “They look just like you! Maybe they know what’s going on and can give us answers?”
“I agree,” said Mara, cautiously surveying the room. There was an unopened door to my left with bloodstains on it. The wood was laden with claw-like markings as if a wild animal was desperate to reach whatever lay beyond it.
THUMP, THUMP, THUUUUMP, THUMP!
The floor above shook violently, many heavy stomping footsteps traveling throughout the house. I looked at the clone of Pastor Dylan, who was staring up at the ceiling fearfully. He began uttering incoherent sentences, frantic and trembling.
"Fuck this, I'm not waiting any longer!" said Graham as he approached the bound Pastor Dylan and pulled the ball gag off.
He immediately shouted, "Step away from him! He's an imposter!"
Pastor Dylan, the first one, stood silently. "Imposter?" asked Mara curiously, staring at the petrified pastor.
"Yes! He's a watcher! A guardian for those things out there! He's supposed to herd people into one spot and then attract the runners!"
"Th… that's not true…" said Pastor Dylan.
"You won't remember it! It's primal instinct! The owners of this home, Patty and Jeff, were some of the first to begin acting strangely. I came to ask why they hadn't come to church for over a month, and they lulled me into a false sense of security! Before I knew it, I was trapped down here…"
"What's behind that door?" asked Graham curiously.
"I have no idea! I couldn’t get a peek before it was closed for the final time. Nothing good, I'm certain of that!"
"And how do *you\* know all this? About them and those things?" I asked, keeping my distance from both pastors.
"Because Patty and Jeff told me. They revealed everything to me. That imposter standing next to you can hardly speak! Shouldn't that tell you something? Why would he be at a loss for words if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the *real\* Pastor Dylan?"
"Father?" Graham asked the speechless Pastor.
"I… I… You've fucking ruined everything!" he shouted as he rushed at the other, still-bound pastor. Mara stood between them but got knocked to the floor like a ragdoll. Graham swiftly moved to kneel by her side. The dangerously aggressive Pastor Dylan tackled the other, and they began thrashing about in a dance of violence.
I had a choice. Either help Graham and Mara, ignoring the strange turn of events, or join the fray and attempt to assist one of the pastors.
I chose the former because I didn't want to be responsible for anyone's death if it came to that. Mara was muttering faintly; she was dazed and bleeding from the back of her head.
Both pastors continued brawling. The other pastor tore his bindings during the rumble as they rolled towards the stairs, leaving bits of skin, fingernails, hair, and blood in their wake. The scuffle proceeded up the steps, followed by incoherent shouting.
Mara started coming around just as I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, only for it to shut immediately after. Then a roaring charge of footsteps trampled above us; it sounded like a herd of bulls falling to the floor from the ceiling.
Little streams of dust cascaded from the unfinished basement ceiling into my hair. Mara turned on her side so Graham and I could check her wound. It wasn't deep and seemed superficial.
Then all noise in the house stopped as if we had suddenly teleported to a realm of emptiness.
Graham looked at me, eyes watering, and asked, "Is it over? Will we be left alone now?"
"I don't know, my friend. I'm not strong enough to go upstairs and check."
"Am I okay?" asked Mara, her light-brown hair stained red.
"Yes, you'll be fine. Maybe there's something around here we can use to clean that up," I said, rising to my feet.
"Don't worry, Mara. Danny and I will keep you safe," said Graham, remaining at her side.
I rummaged through every piece of furniture, checked every shelf, toppled or otherwise, and delved into every dusty corner. There was nothing but webs and long-dead insects.
But there was still that door. The one with bloodstains on it. The one I had avoided for the sake of cowardice, hoping to subvert the need to search beyond it. Something deep inside me resisted every demanding urge to open it like I already knew what I'd find and couldn't bear to see it.
As I walked up to it, Graham piped up, "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"I couldn't find anything out here. Maybe Patty and Jeff stored more supplies in whatever room this leads to…"
"Graham's right, Danny. I'll be fine soon enough. We should all stay out here safely," said Mara, not sounding like herself.
"A part of me agrees with you, but another must satisfy my blooming curiosity," I said, reaching out to grip the tarnished doorknob.
Mara and Graham both said something, at the same time, that sounded like, "We tried to warn you…" Just as I turned the knob.
A horrible stench flew right up my nose. It was the smell of putrefaction---rotten meat. I squeezed my nostrils as a string dangling from the ceiling slapped my face. Reluctantly, I pulled it to light an old bulb, brown with age. But on the floor, stacked in a pile, was a mass of bodies.
And in that mass were the bodies of Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, and Graham.
I turned tail and retreated right into one of the darkened corners of the main basement. Graham and Mara only stared as I did, watching like apathetic sentinels. The synapses in my brain shocked me into a false paralysis. I couldn't even speak.
Ten minutes must have passed before my breathing calmed and I regained the use of my hands. It felt like breaking free of rigor mortis as if I had been dead for that short time. But worst of all was that Graham and Mara remained quiet. They didn't take their eyes off me the entire time or offer me any help.
"Wh-what is that in there?..." I managed to ask, though they said nothing. "Are you two… real?" I questioned further but received crickets in response.
I've been writing this transcript ever since. I hope this allows you to understand what happened in Ridgewood. On the hour, every hour, Graham and Mara shuffle a little closer. I’m not sure what they're waiting for. But each time it happens, a dreadful chill erupts from the pit of my stomach. And yet, I'm too afraid to go upstairs away from them.
There is something else too. I did say there was a mass of bodies, but I never said how many. And that's because there were six: Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, Graham and…
Me.
My body was decaying amongst the festering. That was the real reason I ran out so quickly.
Am I real? Am I still Danny Haronfield? How could this happen? *When\* did this happen?
They just moved closer.
Should I have stayed out in the street? You know what they say. If you can't beat them, join them.
It won't be long now, but you know what? I wish I ate more of that spaghetti. I'm fucking starving.

"Hurry, everyone! Get in the house now! We can't delay. They'll catch up to us any moment!" shouted Dylan, Ridgewood’s communal pastor.
I brushed past him into the quaint (and ordinary) white-picket-fence blue suburbia home. Graham, a friend of mine, followed close behind, and four other strangers came in after.
"Who's house is this?" I asked as I swiftly shut a pair of gray curtains over the living room window.
Pastor Dylan closed and locked the front door. Then he turned to look through the peephole. "It's one of… theirs. They won't be using it anymore, so I figured we could hold up here until this mess gets sorted out."
Graham proceeded to close the curtains over the remaining windows, and one of the other four of our band of stragglers (an older woman) began checking the kitchen cupboards. "But what exactly *is\* this mess? What's even going on?" I asked, itching a patch of poison ivy I got a few days prior.
"I would ask that we all remain calm. The Lord has given us a test, and we are his chosen few that must survive it."
"A test? A fucking test?!" asked an older man, who I assumed was the partner of the woman perusing the kitchen.
"Don't raise your voice, Ed!" said a man who had to be around his mid-forties.
"You can't tell me what to fucking do, Matt! You shouldn't even be here, you piece of shit carjacker!" spat Ed as Pastor Dylan gingerly walked over to them.
"That was fifteen fucking years ago, Ed. When will you let it go? I was in a bad place, doing bad things. People can change, and I've been clean for all this time!"
"Let's not lose our heads. Not in a time of immense trial. We must all remain cohesive and steadfast in our mission from God," said Pastor Dylan, holding the crucifix swaying from his neck.
"Tell that to those psychopaths out there," said a younger woman in her early twenties.
"Oh, Mara, when will you learn to trust in the will of our Lord and savior? When will you accept his gift as it was bestowed upon you?" asked Pastor Dylan, getting too close to her.
"When you can explain the horror show outside. People are beating each other senselessly, killing their neighbors. Ravenous mouth-frothing lunatics ripping themselves limb from limb for seemingly *no\* reason. Explain how *that\* is a 'gift from God.'"
"Child, the gift is the ability to overcome this hardship. The test, now that is something I've yet to find the answer to. My hypothesis? Lucifer has finally come to wreak his unholy kingdom upon our fair town."
"Why?" began the older woman, emerging from the kitchen empty-handed. "Why Ridgewood? There wasn't anything on the news. Ed and I were sitting in our parlor watching TV when it all began, and none of it makes sense…"
"Maybe it started close to the new station, so they weren't able to get the word out fast enough?" said Graham, giving me a nod.
"Yeah, and we all barely made it here with our lives. The real question is, why aren't we affected?" I asked, plopping down on a well-worn couch.
"I've already told you, young Danny, we are God's chosen! We will bring forth his good kingdom against the evil of the devil. It's as simple as that," said Pastor Dylan.
"Forgive me if I can't subscribe to that level of zealotry, Father," said Matt, moving further away from Ed.
"Zealotry or not, we have come together to weather this storm! And we must all get along if we want to see the golden light of our heavenly sun."
"Well said, Dylan. As always," said the older woman.
"Thank you, Linda. Now, we have work to do. Graham and Danny, can you both search the rooms for anything useful? Ed and Linda, can you return to the kitchen and count our rations? Matt and I will keep watch for… them."
"I'm not sharing a house with that fucking criminal!" said Ed, pointing a condemning finger at Matt.
"Careful, old timer, you might pump that blood pressure up way too high for your heart to handle," said Matt, scowling.
"What did you say to me, punk!" asked Ed, but Pastor Dylan placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Ed, please. Pacify your nerves. The kingdom of heaven welcomes all who accept the Lord. Matt has been a devout visitor at the church for many, many years. I trust and forgive him for his past deeds."
"I just don't like him, Father. What if he's one of them?"
"One of them? I'm not one of those… things! If I was, don't you think I'd be trying to kill you right now?" asked Matt, cowering in a dark corner.
"Yeah, maybe. Or, you've just got some kind of control over it!" said Ed, spitting with each word.
"No more, Ed. Take Linda, and go to the kitchen. Please. We will discuss this further later," said Pastor Dylan.
Ed stared fiercely at Matt for a short time before huffing and walking with Linda toward the kitchen. When Pastor Dylan's eyes fell on Graham and me, we sprung up and ventured down the nearby, dimly lit hallway.
The home appeared to have seven doors. Two led to bedrooms, one to an office, one to a bathroom, and one to a closet. But the last door was locked by a heavy-duty master lock to which we didn't have the key.
"Father, do you know what's behind this door?" I asked, pulling on the lock.
"Door? Oh, I think it leads to a basement. Many of these homes tout a single story, but I've always said a basement counts as two!" he said with a friendly grin.
"They're outside," said Matt, peering through the living room curtain.
I quietly walked over to him as he moved away from the curtain. A roving group of at least fifty… people were passing through the street. Even from the window, I could see their bulging-red eyes and the white foam frothing from their seething mouths.
"Look at them all…" said Graham over my shoulder.
"Shh… We all need to whisper now. If they hear us, we're likely dead," I said, letting the curtain softly fall into place.
"What's going on out here?" asked Ed, far too loudly.
"Quiet down! They're in the street," said Matt.
"Fuck you. I don't care who's where just as long as *you\* ain't there!"
"Well, I am *here\,* old-timer. Deal with it. We can scrap when this is over if you still hate me."
"It would be my fucking pleasure," said Ed, cracking his knuckles.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I ducked. "What the hell was that?" I asked, darting my eyes all around.
"I… I think it came from below us," said Mara, putting her ear to the floor.
"Below? But there's a lock on the door–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Oh fuck. That was from outside," said Graham, moving away from the outer walls.
"Matt, go check," said Pastor Dylan, gripping his cross again.
Matt obliged, striding swiftly to the living room window. "Yeah, I think some of them heard that," he began. "They're pounding against the siding."
"I say we send him out there as a distraction. Buy us some more time," said Ed, crossing his arms tightly.
"Ed, please. Be reasonable. Could you really live with ending someone's life?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"Humph! No, I suppose not. But I still don't like him!"
"That's fine–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Fuck, what if they get in?" I asked, anxiety bubbling in my stomach.
"Everyone be quiet. They might go away if we keep our voices down…" said Pastor Dylan.
"And what about the sound in the basement?" asked Mara, casting her gaze on the basement door.
"We'll deal with that *after\* they leave us alone," said Pastor Dylan.
"Father, we still don't even know what *they\* are," said Linda, holding onto Ed's arm. He seemed displeased by her touch.
"Yeah, maybe they just need help?" said Graham optimistically.
"No, dude. Did you not see Justin and his mom? They were destroying each other. Nobody in their right mind would gnaw their own son's arm off," I said. The statement made me shudder.
"So, are they… zombies?" asked Matt.
"Fucking moron. Of course they're not zombies! They must be high on something. Some new age shit that's driving them crazy," said Ed, though I wasn't sure he believed any of it.
"They have become servants of hell. What more do you need to know?" said Pastor Dylan.
Matt moved over to the curtain again. "It looks like they've lost interest. From here, they don't look much like zombies. But they bite flesh, and that speaks on the contrary…"
"They're *not\* zombies," said Ed, growing further irate.
"Maybe it's some kind of airborne thing?" suggested Mara.
"If that were true, why weren't we affected?" I asked, scratching the poison ivy again.
"I've already told you all," began Pastor Dylan. "We are warriors of God. We will bring about the new world."
"We're in the clear. For now," said Matt, moving away from the curtain.
"Father, don't you think it's a bit odd that only seven of us were 'chosen'? Surely it would take an army to stop such a destructive force," I said, looking at Mara, who was picking at her cuticles.
"As a man of faith. It is the only possible conclusion. I see havoc, terror, and fear in the eyes of all of you. Only the vileness of Lucifer could create such things. If any of you have evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."
"None of us know anything…" said Mara quietly.
BANG… BAAAAANNNGG!
"That was downstairs again," I said.
"Matt, the curtains," said Pastor Dylan.
"No, there aren't any around," said Matt.
"What the fuck is that sound?" asked Ed.
"Ed, darling, please stop swearing so much…" pleaded Linda.
"Sorry, honey. My blood pressure is through the roof."
Linda smiled endearingly at him as Pastor Dylan checked the basement door. He jiggled the lock and felt above the door frame. "Did you two happen to find a key ring during your search?" he asked Graham and me.
"No, nothing," said Graham, turning out his pockets.
"There wasn't much of anything in those rooms, Father. Mostly clothes and electronics," I said, continuing to watch Mara dig at her skin.
"The key has to be somewhere…" said Pastor Dylan unassuredly.
"What if the keys are with… you know, the owners of the home?" I asked.
"Patty and Jeff always traveled lightly. I can’t imagine they would bring a key to their basement door whenever they left."
"But, Father. It could have been on a keyring. You asked us yourself to look for one, thinking that one already existed. It could be that today they decided to bring it with them, in which case, we're fucked," I said, shooting a glance at Graham, who swallowed nervously.
"I have a hunch that the key is somewhere in this house. But night is approaching, and I'm sure we're all hungry," said Pastor Dylan.
"I don't know how anyone could have an appetite after what we saw out there…" said Mara, burying her face between her knees.
"You have to eat, Mara. You'll be of no help to anyone malnourished and exhausted," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yeah, and we can't have you wasting away!" said Graham, smiling at her.
"We've got all the makings of spaghetti, that'll be a filling meal for all of us, and hopefully, there will be more information tomorrow…" said Linda from the kitchen.
"Remember to keep your voices down. We know they're attracted to sound. Even the slightest utterance could send them stampeding toward us," said Pastor Dylan, receding into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To search the rooms again. I don't know how much I trust leaving discovery to a couple of twenty-somethings," he said, winking at me.
"Suit yourself," I said, kicking my legs up on the couch.
Graham sat in a chair next to the living room window and occasionally peered at the street. I figured if something dangerous was close by, he would notify us. Mara laid on the floor; I couldn’t imagine it was comfortable.
Linda and Ed kept as quiet as they could in the kitchen. Sometimes the banging of pots and pans would ring out. Each time put me further on edge, but Graham never said anything, so the sound must have been quiet enough. My stomach rumbled when the pleasant smell of beef cooking wafted through the air.
I was starving. I hadn't eaten all day. But having spent all my energy running left me without the willpower to stay awake.
I closed my eyes and passed out.
Graham shook me awake about two hours later, or so the clock said. For some reason, I wasn't sure they were working. "Hey, man. Food's been done for quite a while, but everyone agreed that it was best to let you get some shut-eye. Pastor Dylan said we'd need to take shifts staying awake to watch the street, so get some leftovers in the kitchen."
"What?... Oh, sorry… I'm way out of it. Give me a moment to collect my head," I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
"No worries. There's plenty of food left, so help yourself.
"Don't take too much. We need to make this last," said Ed, glaring at me from the chair Graham had been sitting in.
"I won't. I don't eat that much," I said, lying through my teeth.
"Just hurry up, Danny. We'll need your eyes to help keep us safe," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yes, Father," I said, groggily rising to my feet.
BANG, BANG, BAAANG, BANG!
"Shit! There it is again," I said.
"Believe it or not, that's been going on since about ten minutes after you passed out," said Mara.
"Really? Do we have any idea what it is?"
"No, Mara says she can't hear anything whenever she puts her ear to the floor," said Matt from across the room.
"Nobody fucking asked you," said Ed.
"Ed, stop! Why must you start petty squabbles amid the chaos?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Father. I can't seem to keep my mind off it."
"Well, see to it that you do. Sooner rather than later," said Pastor Dylan as he faced the basement door.
"Wait, did you find the key?" I asked.
"No, it's the strangest thing. I found a keyring in a room that Graham had apparently searched and somehow missed. Regardless, none of the keys go to this lock. I can't make heads or tails of it," he said, glancing curiously at Graham.
"Don't look at me," said Graham, sitting in the indent on the couch I had created.
"Maybe it'll turn up later. We need to figure out what's down there because the more noise in here, the more awful things out there want in," I said, beginning to walk to the kitchen.
"They aren't 'things,' they're people…" said Linda, clinging onto Ed.
"Right… people," I said, disappearing from the living room. The spaghetti was cold. Also, no one would let me use the microwave, which made it taste like three-day-old dog food (don't ask how I know that.) But I scarfed it down and rejoined the others, who were all deadly quiet.
Mara was asleep on the floor, Ed and Linda sat on the other end of the couch, Matt sat against a wall, eyes closed, and Pastor Dylan was still examining the basement door.
"Ready to watch?" he asked as I approached him.
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you going to rest?"
"I think I'll inspect the rooms a little longer before settling in. I've got a feeling the key is closer than we know."
"What do you think is down there?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"I've been contemplating that since we first heard the banging. Maybe one got in? That's about all I can conclude at this moment."
"If that were the case, wouldn't they climb the stairs and bang on the other side of the door?"
"You've got a point. But what makes sense anymore?" he asked, looking down at his cross.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm sure we'll find a way out of this."
"It's good to have optimism," he began timidly. “Take a place by the window, and if anything happens, alert us *quietly\*."
"Will do," I said as he smiled reassuringly. The wooden chair next to the window wouldn't make for comfortable sitting, but its hardness meant I wouldn't fall asleep quickly.
Things had been progressing rapidly. I hadn't had a moment to think about the eerie turn of events. Our town of Ridgewood had gone mad. It was as if lunacy was carried on the winds, infecting the minds of many. Why were we unaffected? I couldn't say, and I wasn't sure I believed Pastor Dylan's proclamation of holy war.
But the people in town had turned on one another. Some form of rabies, maybe? For no apparent reason, they started killing anyone who wasn't as hostile as they were by any means necessary, and their lust for annihilation was insatiable.
However, they had devolved into a more primal aspect—one unfettered by the woes of the human condition. And as I sat there, peering behind the curtain, utter havoc was all to behold. Cars turned over, buildings were on fire, and trash lay strewn about the streets.
The flickering street lamps showed signs of power failure, and I wondered if we'd soon be living in the dark. But I couldn't stare out for long because seeing severed extremities, pools of blood, and other viscera unsettled my stomach.
"Anything out there–"
"Oh shit, Graham! Don't sneak up on me, please," I said, breathing rapidly.
"Sorry, I was just curious," he said, shrugging.
"If you're curious, look out there yourself."
"I would rather not. It's nightmare fuel."
"And you think I would? I'd much prefer to be sleeping like nearly everyone else."
He looked left. Then right. And then behind him before leaning closer. "You know that key? The one Pastor Dylan is looking for? Well, I found it. I've been keeping it a secret because I'm afraid of what's in the basement…"
"*You have it?!\"* I asked in a harsh whisper.
"Shhh! Don't tell anyone, please! Especially not Pastor Dylan," said Graham, patting the outside of his jacket pocket.
"Why shouldn't we tell him? What if there's a bunch of useful supplies stashed down there?"
"Because he doesn't seem… right. I think he's become too infatuated with that door and what's behind it. I worry about the ladder. Is it some kind of mon–"
BANG, BANG!
BANG, BANG, BAAAAANG, *BANG!\*
Everyone who was sleeping shot awake. Pastor Dylan pressed his ear against the basement door and held his finger to his lips. Mara kept her ear on the floor. Matt started biting his nails, and Ed and Linda held each other tightly.
Whispering across the room, I asked, "Father, what is it?"
"I think whatever *is\* down there is tearing the place apart. It sounds like toppling shelves. Check outside, now."
I looked outside but saw no cause for alarm. "The coast is clear. For now."
"Good. If only we could find that damn key! Blast it all!" said Pastor Dylan, lightly laying his balled fist against the door.
Knock… knock… knock.
"Don't knock, Father!" whispered Graham.
"I… I didn't," he said, stepping away from the door.
"What's all the racket?" asked Ed. Cantankerous as always.
"Whatever's downstairs seems to be trying to get our attention…" I said, a shiver starting at the base of my spine.
"Well, let's see what they want!" said Ed as he rose from the couch.
Pastor Dylan blocked the door. "No! We can't open it because we don't have the key! You would make far too much noise!"
"I don't care anymore! I'm sick of all the raucous coming from down there!" spat Ed as he rushed towards Pastor Dylan.
"Ed, no!" said Matt, trying to intercept him.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" demanded Ed, stopping to point his finger at Matt.
I looked outside, hoping to see more of the same. Instead, a crowd of more than fifteen strong were wandering up the street right past the house we were in. Matt and Ed's argument grew louder, and as it did, heads began to turn.
"Hey, guys?" I said without taking my eyes off the street.
"Once again, I don't know why you're still here! We should send you outside right now!" shouted Ed, approaching Matt.
"Get your finger out of my face, you old fuck!" Matt shouted back.
"Gentleman, please!" protested Pastor Dylan.
"Guys!" I shouted louder than everyone. What did it matter anyway?
"*What is it, Danny?!\*" asked Ed gruffly.
"They're fucking coming!"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
They started pounding on the house, clawing at the siding, and tearing it off. "What do we do?!" asked Graham worriedly.
"We need to be quiet, for one!" said Pastor Dylan.
"Everyone, *shut the fuck up!\*" said Mara; it seemed she had had enough.
While we all quieted down, the relentless threat outside continued their attempt at breaking down the walls. "What if they get in?..." asked Linda, standing to hide behind Ed.
"Shh!" hushed Pastor Dylan.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
"They're not stopping," I said just loud enough to be heard by Matt, who relayed it to Pastor Dylan.
SMASH!
"What was that?!" asked Graham fearfully.
"It sounded like a window!" said Mara, looking down the hall.
"Have they got inside?" asked Matt.
BANG, KNOCK, KNOCK, BAAAAANG!
"That came from down the hall!" said Pastor Dylan.
"We need to get the fuck out of here!" said Ed, shielding Linda.
"And where are we supposed to go?!" asked Matt confrontationally.
"I've been waiting for this, you fucker!" said Ed as he took a big swing at Matt.
Matt ducked and punched Ed in the thigh, causing him to howl in anguish. Pastor Dylan tried to get between them, but it was no use. Ed and Matt began grappling down the hall, knocking each other into the walls and against low-hanging paintings.
It wasn't long until blood smear speckled their faces. All the while, the banging from outside and inside continued. Mara tried to console Linda, but she was overwrought, shaking, and crying like a scared child. Pastor Dylan stared at Graham and me; it looked like he was about to run out the front door.
Suddenly, a separate door in the hall burst open, and more than five individuals poured into the hallway. The grunting and huffing from Matt and Ed transitioned into terrifying cries of agony. Linda ran from Mara into the hall, and within seconds, her blood-chilling screams entered the air.
I looked at Graham, whose eyes were on me. "The key, Graham! Now!"
"R-right!" he said as he fumbled with his pocket.
"Wait, the key?!" asked Pastor Dylan.
"We'll explain later! Let's just get downstairs!" I shouted, racing over to the basement door with Graham and Mara.
Graham's hands shook terribly as he desperately tried to unlock the door. It took the steady, interrupting hand of Pastor Dylan to open it. The moment the door opened, we all stumbled inside and swiftly shut it.
And for some unknown reason, all sound dissipated. Like the basement was proofed for noise. It was so quiet. You wouldn't think Linda, Matt, and Ed were being torn apart at the sinews of their muscles that very moment. But it was also dark, and standing on steps in the dark was a recipe for a broken neck.
"Does anyone have a light?" I asked quietly.
"Feel for a switch!" said Pastor Dylan.
I reached out and accidentally grazed Mara's eye. "Ow!" she said, smacking my hand away.
"I'm sorry, Mara! I can't fucking see!"
"Well, I *really\* won't be able to see if you gouge my fucking eyes out!"
"Enough, you two!" began Pastor Dylan. "Find a switch, or we'll be worse off than beyond that door."
I tried again, gently brushing my hands through the air. By a stroke of luck, I came across a very webbed switch and flicked it.
Light. But then I remembered something…
What was in the basement making all that noise?
I think the others made the same realization because they each immediately faced the bottom of the stairs. And yet, it was as silent as an empty church. Pastor Dylan, wasting no time, quietly asked, "Is someone down there?"
I thought I heard shuffling against concrete, but it was so faint that it might have been my hair brushing against the wall next to me. "Are we alone?" asked Mara.
"I'm not sure," said Pastor Dylan.
"Can we just go down and see?" asked Graham, seeming antsy.
"Fine. But go with caution," said Pastor Dylan.
We crept down, the steps creaking under our mass. The basement was illuminated by only two lightbulbs fixed in the ceiling. It wasn't enough to brighten every corner, but it was enough to see the abysmal state of the entire basement.
The shelves Pastor Dylan mentioned before our descent were tipped over, and canned goods spilled across the concrete floor. There was no sign of life aside from us, and both narrow windows near the top of the basement wall were intact. No one had broken in.
Did we imagine it?
“Well, there goes our chance at survival,” said Graham, nodding toward the spilled goods.
“Nonsense, we’ll make do. We must have faith in our Lord that he will provide the necessary means for our survival,” said Pastor Dylan, rubbing his hands together.
Then a muffled and restricted sound arose from one of the darkened corners. It sounded like someone attempting to speak through a duct tape-covered mouth. “Wh-who’s there?” I asked, squinting into the darkness.
More stifled noises arose—the sounds of struggling. I stepped forward, but Pastor Dylan stopped me with his hand. “What is it, Father?” I asked, turning to see his confusingly-wide eyes.
“Th-this isn’t possible…” he said, barely allowing the words to leave his lips.
“What isn’t possible?” asked Mara timidly.
He whispered, bringing his sweaty palm to his face, "Th-that's... It's... me..."
“You?... What?” I asked, brushing past him to walk further into the room. And then, a figure emerged from the corner, wearing tattered vestments, and covered in filth.
It was the spitting image of Pastor Dylan.
His hands were bound, and his mouth was ball gagged. His knuckles were red and bruised—he must have been hitting something excruciatingly hard to produce the banging sounds we were hearing when we were upstairs. On instinct, I began rushing over to remove the gag, but Pastor Dylan swiftly protested, “Wait!” he began, marching up to meet me. “We don’t know what’s going on here, so before we do anything rash, let’s think about this.”
“Think about what?” I asked him, “They look just like you! Maybe they know what’s going on and can give us answers?”
“I agree,” said Mara, cautiously surveying the room. There was an unopened door to my left with bloodstains on it. The wood was laden with claw-like markings as if a wild animal was desperate to reach whatever lay beyond it.
THUMP, THUMP, THUUUUMP, THUMP!
The floor above shook violently, many heavy stomping footsteps traveling throughout the house. I looked at the clone of Pastor Dylan, who was staring up at the ceiling fearfully. He began uttering incoherent sentences, frantic and trembling.
"Fuck this, I'm not waiting any longer!" said Graham as he approached the bound Pastor Dylan and pulled the ball gag off.
He immediately shouted, "Step away from him! He's an imposter!"
Pastor Dylan, the first one, stood silently. "Imposter?" asked Mara curiously, staring at the petrified pastor.
"Yes! He's a watcher! A guardian for those things out there! He's supposed to herd people into one spot and then attract the runners!"
"Th… that's not true…" said Pastor Dylan.
"You won't remember it! It's primal instinct! The owners of this home, Patty and Jeff, were some of the first to begin acting strangely. I came to ask why they hadn't come to church for over a month, and they lulled me into a false sense of security! Before I knew it, I was trapped down here…"
"What's behind that door?" asked Graham curiously.
"I have no idea! I couldn’t get a peek before it was closed for the final time. Nothing good, I'm certain of that!"
"And how do *you\* know all this? About them and those things?" I asked, keeping my distance from both pastors.
"Because Patty and Jeff told me. They revealed everything to me. That imposter standing next to you can hardly speak! Shouldn't that tell you something? Why would he be at a loss for words if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the *real\* Pastor Dylan?"
"Father?" Graham asked the speechless Pastor.
"I… I… You've fucking ruined everything!" he shouted as he rushed at the other, still-bound pastor. Mara stood between them but got knocked to the floor like a ragdoll. Graham swiftly moved to kneel by her side. The dangerously aggressive Pastor Dylan tackled the other, and they began thrashing about in a dance of violence.
I had a choice. Either help Graham and Mara, ignoring the strange turn of events, or join the fray and attempt to assist one of the pastors.
I chose the former because I didn't want to be responsible for anyone's death if it came to that. Mara was muttering faintly; she was dazed and bleeding from the back of her head.
Both pastors continued brawling. The other pastor tore his bindings during the rumble as they rolled towards the stairs, leaving bits of skin, fingernails, hair, and blood in their wake. The scuffle proceeded up the steps, followed by incoherent shouting.
Mara started coming around just as I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, only for it to shut immediately after. Then a roaring charge of footsteps trampled above us; it sounded like a herd of bulls falling to the floor from the ceiling.
Little streams of dust cascaded from the unfinished basement ceiling into my hair. Mara turned on her side so Graham and I could check her wound. It wasn't deep and seemed superficial.
Then all noise in the house stopped as if we had suddenly teleported to a realm of emptiness.
Graham looked at me, eyes watering, and asked, "Is it over? Will we be left alone now?"
"I don't know, my friend. I'm not strong enough to go upstairs and check."
"Am I okay?" asked Mara, her light-brown hair stained red.
"Yes, you'll be fine. Maybe there's something around here we can use to clean that up," I said, rising to my feet.
"Don't worry, Mara. Danny and I will keep you safe," said Graham, remaining at her side.
I rummaged through every piece of furniture, checked every shelf, toppled or otherwise, and delved into every dusty corner. There was nothing but webs and long-dead insects.
But there was still that door. The one with bloodstains on it. The one I had avoided for the sake of cowardice, hoping to subvert the need to search beyond it. Something deep inside me resisted every demanding urge to open it like I already knew what I'd find and couldn't bear to see it.
As I walked up to it, Graham piped up, "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"I couldn't find anything out here. Maybe Patty and Jeff stored more supplies in whatever room this leads to…"
"Graham's right, Danny. I'll be fine soon enough. We should all stay out here safely," said Mara, not sounding like herself.
"A part of me agrees with you, but another must satisfy my blooming curiosity," I said, reaching out to grip the tarnished doorknob.
Mara and Graham both said something, at the same time, that sounded like, "We tried to warn you…" Just as I turned the knob.
A horrible stench flew right up my nose. It was the smell of putrefaction---rotten meat. I squeezed my nostrils as a string dangling from the ceiling slapped my face. Reluctantly, I pulled it to light an old bulb, brown with age. But on the floor, stacked in a pile, was a mass of bodies.
And in that mass were the bodies of Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, and Graham.
I turned tail and retreated right into one of the darkened corners of the main basement. Graham and Mara only stared as I did, watching like apathetic sentinels. The synapses in my brain shocked me into a false paralysis. I couldn't even speak.
Ten minutes must have passed before my breathing calmed and I regained the use of my hands. It felt like breaking free of rigor mortis as if I had been dead for that short time. But worst of all was that Graham and Mara remained quiet. They didn't take their eyes off me the entire time or offer me any help.
"Wh-what is that in there?..." I managed to ask, though they said nothing. "Are you two… real?" I questioned further but received crickets in response.
I've been writing this transcript ever since. I hope this allows you to understand what happened in Ridgewood. On the hour, every hour, Graham and Mara shuffle a little closer. I’m not sure what they're waiting for. But each time it happens, a dreadful chill erupts from the pit of my stomach. And yet, I'm too afraid to go upstairs away from them.
There is something else too. I did say there was a mass of bodies, but I never said how many. And that's because there were six: Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, Graham and…
Me.
My body was decaying amongst the festering. That was the real reason I ran out so quickly.
Am I real? Am I still Danny Haronfield? How could this happen? *When\* did this happen?
They just moved closer.
Should I have stayed out in the street? You know what they say. If you can't beat them, join them.
It won't be long now, but you know what? I wish I ate more of that spaghetti. I'm fucking starving.

"Hurry, everyone! Get in the house now! We can't delay. They'll catch up to us any moment!" shouted Dylan, Ridgewood’s communal pastor.
I brushed past him into the quaint (and ordinary) white-picket-fence blue suburbia home. Graham, a friend of mine, followed close behind, and four other strangers came in after.
"Who's house is this?" I asked as I swiftly shut a pair of gray curtains over the living room window.
Pastor Dylan closed and locked the front door. Then he turned to look through the peephole. "It's one of… theirs. They won't be using it anymore, so I figured we could hold up here until this mess gets sorted out."
Graham proceeded to close the curtains over the remaining windows, and one of the other four of our band of stragglers (an older woman) began checking the kitchen cupboards. "But what exactly *is\* this mess? What's even going on?" I asked, itching a patch of poison ivy I got a few days prior.
"I would ask that we all remain calm. The Lord has given us a test, and we are his chosen few that must survive it."
"A test? A fucking test?!" asked an older man, who I assumed was the partner of the woman perusing the kitchen.
"Don't raise your voice, Ed!" said a man who had to be around his mid-forties.
"You can't tell me what to fucking do, Matt! You shouldn't even be here, you piece of shit carjacker!" spat Ed as Pastor Dylan gingerly walked over to them.
"That was fifteen fucking years ago, Ed. When will you let it go? I was in a bad place, doing bad things. People can change, and I've been clean for all this time!"
"Let's not lose our heads. Not in a time of immense trial. We must all remain cohesive and steadfast in our mission from God," said Pastor Dylan, holding the crucifix swaying from his neck.
"Tell that to those psychopaths out there," said a younger woman in her early twenties.
"Oh, Mara, when will you learn to trust in the will of our Lord and savior? When will you accept his gift as it was bestowed upon you?" asked Pastor Dylan, getting too close to her.
"When you can explain the horror show outside. People are beating each other senselessly, killing their neighbors. Ravenous mouth-frothing lunatics ripping themselves limb from limb for seemingly *no\* reason. Explain how *that\* is a 'gift from God.'"
"Child, the gift is the ability to overcome this hardship. The test, now that is something I've yet to find the answer to. My hypothesis? Lucifer has finally come to wreak his unholy kingdom upon our fair town."
"Why?" began the older woman, emerging from the kitchen empty-handed. "Why Ridgewood? There wasn't anything on the news. Ed and I were sitting in our parlor watching TV when it all began, and none of it makes sense…"
"Maybe it started close to the new station, so they weren't able to get the word out fast enough?" said Graham, giving me a nod.
"Yeah, and we all barely made it here with our lives. The real question is, why aren't we affected?" I asked, plopping down on a well-worn couch.
"I've already told you, young Danny, we are God's chosen! We will bring forth his good kingdom against the evil of the devil. It's as simple as that," said Pastor Dylan.
"Forgive me if I can't subscribe to that level of zealotry, Father," said Matt, moving further away from Ed.
"Zealotry or not, we have come together to weather this storm! And we must all get along if we want to see the golden light of our heavenly sun."
"Well said, Dylan. As always," said the older woman.
"Thank you, Linda. Now, we have work to do. Graham and Danny, can you both search the rooms for anything useful? Ed and Linda, can you return to the kitchen and count our rations? Matt and I will keep watch for… them."
"I'm not sharing a house with that fucking criminal!" said Ed, pointing a condemning finger at Matt.
"Careful, old timer, you might pump that blood pressure up way too high for your heart to handle," said Matt, scowling.
"What did you say to me, punk!" asked Ed, but Pastor Dylan placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Ed, please. Pacify your nerves. The kingdom of heaven welcomes all who accept the Lord. Matt has been a devout visitor at the church for many, many years. I trust and forgive him for his past deeds."
"I just don't like him, Father. What if he's one of them?"
"One of them? I'm not one of those… things! If I was, don't you think I'd be trying to kill you right now?" asked Matt, cowering in a dark corner.
"Yeah, maybe. Or, you've just got some kind of control over it!" said Ed, spitting with each word.
"No more, Ed. Take Linda, and go to the kitchen. Please. We will discuss this further later," said Pastor Dylan.
Ed stared fiercely at Matt for a short time before huffing and walking with Linda toward the kitchen. When Pastor Dylan's eyes fell on Graham and me, we sprung up and ventured down the nearby, dimly lit hallway.
The home appeared to have seven doors. Two led to bedrooms, one to an office, one to a bathroom, and one to a closet. But the last door was locked by a heavy-duty master lock to which we didn't have the key.
"Father, do you know what's behind this door?" I asked, pulling on the lock.
"Door? Oh, I think it leads to a basement. Many of these homes tout a single story, but I've always said a basement counts as two!" he said with a friendly grin.
"They're outside," said Matt, peering through the living room curtain.
I quietly walked over to him as he moved away from the curtain. A roving group of at least fifty… people were passing through the street. Even from the window, I could see their bulging-red eyes and the white foam frothing from their seething mouths.
"Look at them all…" said Graham over my shoulder.
"Shh… We all need to whisper now. If they hear us, we're likely dead," I said, letting the curtain softly fall into place.
"What's going on out here?" asked Ed, far too loudly.
"Quiet down! They're in the street," said Matt.
"Fuck you. I don't care who's where just as long as *you\* ain't there!"
"Well, I am *here\,* old-timer. Deal with it. We can scrap when this is over if you still hate me."
"It would be my fucking pleasure," said Ed, cracking his knuckles.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I ducked. "What the hell was that?" I asked, darting my eyes all around.
"I… I think it came from below us," said Mara, putting her ear to the floor.
"Below? But there's a lock on the door–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Oh fuck. That was from outside," said Graham, moving away from the outer walls.
"Matt, go check," said Pastor Dylan, gripping his cross again.
Matt obliged, striding swiftly to the living room window. "Yeah, I think some of them heard that," he began. "They're pounding against the siding."
"I say we send him out there as a distraction. Buy us some more time," said Ed, crossing his arms tightly.
"Ed, please. Be reasonable. Could you really live with ending someone's life?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"Humph! No, I suppose not. But I still don't like him!"
"That's fine–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Fuck, what if they get in?" I asked, anxiety bubbling in my stomach.
"Everyone be quiet. They might go away if we keep our voices down…" said Pastor Dylan.
"And what about the sound in the basement?" asked Mara, casting her gaze on the basement door.
"We'll deal with that *after\* they leave us alone," said Pastor Dylan.
"Father, we still don't even know what *they\* are," said Linda, holding onto Ed's arm. He seemed displeased by her touch.
"Yeah, maybe they just need help?" said Graham optimistically.
"No, dude. Did you not see Justin and his mom? They were destroying each other. Nobody in their right mind would gnaw their own son's arm off," I said. The statement made me shudder.
"So, are they… zombies?" asked Matt.
"Fucking moron. Of course they're not zombies! They must be high on something. Some new age shit that's driving them crazy," said Ed, though I wasn't sure he believed any of it.
"They have become servants of hell. What more do you need to know?" said Pastor Dylan.
Matt moved over to the curtain again. "It looks like they've lost interest. From here, they don't look much like zombies. But they bite flesh, and that speaks on the contrary…"
"They're *not\* zombies," said Ed, growing further irate.
"Maybe it's some kind of airborne thing?" suggested Mara.
"If that were true, why weren't we affected?" I asked, scratching the poison ivy again.
"I've already told you all," began Pastor Dylan. "We are warriors of God. We will bring about the new world."
"We're in the clear. For now," said Matt, moving away from the curtain.
"Father, don't you think it's a bit odd that only seven of us were 'chosen'? Surely it would take an army to stop such a destructive force," I said, looking at Mara, who was picking at her cuticles.
"As a man of faith. It is the only possible conclusion. I see havoc, terror, and fear in the eyes of all of you. Only the vileness of Lucifer could create such things. If any of you have evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."
"None of us know anything…" said Mara quietly.
BANG… BAAAAANNNGG!
"That was downstairs again," I said.
"Matt, the curtains," said Pastor Dylan.
"No, there aren't any around," said Matt.
"What the fuck is that sound?" asked Ed.
"Ed, darling, please stop swearing so much…" pleaded Linda.
"Sorry, honey. My blood pressure is through the roof."
Linda smiled endearingly at him as Pastor Dylan checked the basement door. He jiggled the lock and felt above the door frame. "Did you two happen to find a key ring during your search?" he asked Graham and me.
"No, nothing," said Graham, turning out his pockets.
"There wasn't much of anything in those rooms, Father. Mostly clothes and electronics," I said, continuing to watch Mara dig at her skin.
"The key has to be somewhere…" said Pastor Dylan unassuredly.
"What if the keys are with… you know, the owners of the home?" I asked.
"Patty and Jeff always traveled lightly. I can’t imagine they would bring a key to their basement door whenever they left."
"But, Father. It could have been on a keyring. You asked us yourself to look for one, thinking that one already existed. It could be that today they decided to bring it with them, in which case, we're fucked," I said, shooting a glance at Graham, who swallowed nervously.
"I have a hunch that the key is somewhere in this house. But night is approaching, and I'm sure we're all hungry," said Pastor Dylan.
"I don't know how anyone could have an appetite after what we saw out there…" said Mara, burying her face between her knees.
"You have to eat, Mara. You'll be of no help to anyone malnourished and exhausted," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yeah, and we can't have you wasting away!" said Graham, smiling at her.
"We've got all the makings of spaghetti, that'll be a filling meal for all of us, and hopefully, there will be more information tomorrow…" said Linda from the kitchen.
"Remember to keep your voices down. We know they're attracted to sound. Even the slightest utterance could send them stampeding toward us," said Pastor Dylan, receding into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To search the rooms again. I don't know how much I trust leaving discovery to a couple of twenty-somethings," he said, winking at me.
"Suit yourself," I said, kicking my legs up on the couch.
Graham sat in a chair next to the living room window and occasionally peered at the street. I figured if something dangerous was close by, he would notify us. Mara laid on the floor; I couldn’t imagine it was comfortable.
Linda and Ed kept as quiet as they could in the kitchen. Sometimes the banging of pots and pans would ring out. Each time put me further on edge, but Graham never said anything, so the sound must have been quiet enough. My stomach rumbled when the pleasant smell of beef cooking wafted through the air.
I was starving. I hadn't eaten all day. But having spent all my energy running left me without the willpower to stay awake.
I closed my eyes and passed out.
Graham shook me awake about two hours later, or so the clock said. For some reason, I wasn't sure they were working. "Hey, man. Food's been done for quite a while, but everyone agreed that it was best to let you get some shut-eye. Pastor Dylan said we'd need to take shifts staying awake to watch the street, so get some leftovers in the kitchen."
"What?... Oh, sorry… I'm way out of it. Give me a moment to collect my head," I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
"No worries. There's plenty of food left, so help yourself.
"Don't take too much. We need to make this last," said Ed, glaring at me from the chair Graham had been sitting in.
"I won't. I don't eat that much," I said, lying through my teeth.
"Just hurry up, Danny. We'll need your eyes to help keep us safe," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yes, Father," I said, groggily rising to my feet.
BANG, BANG, BAAANG, BANG!
"Shit! There it is again," I said.
"Believe it or not, that's been going on since about ten minutes after you passed out," said Mara.
"Really? Do we have any idea what it is?"
"No, Mara says she can't hear anything whenever she puts her ear to the floor," said Matt from across the room.
"Nobody fucking asked you," said Ed.
"Ed, stop! Why must you start petty squabbles amid the chaos?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Father. I can't seem to keep my mind off it."
"Well, see to it that you do. Sooner rather than later," said Pastor Dylan as he faced the basement door.
"Wait, did you find the key?" I asked.
"No, it's the strangest thing. I found a keyring in a room that Graham had apparently searched and somehow missed. Regardless, none of the keys go to this lock. I can't make heads or tails of it," he said, glancing curiously at Graham.
"Don't look at me," said Graham, sitting in the indent on the couch I had created.
"Maybe it'll turn up later. We need to figure out what's down there because the more noise in here, the more awful things out there want in," I said, beginning to walk to the kitchen.
"They aren't 'things,' they're people…" said Linda, clinging onto Ed.
"Right… people," I said, disappearing from the living room. The spaghetti was cold. Also, no one would let me use the microwave, which made it taste like three-day-old dog food (don't ask how I know that.) But I scarfed it down and rejoined the others, who were all deadly quiet.
Mara was asleep on the floor, Ed and Linda sat on the other end of the couch, Matt sat against a wall, eyes closed, and Pastor Dylan was still examining the basement door.
"Ready to watch?" he asked as I approached him.
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you going to rest?"
"I think I'll inspect the rooms a little longer before settling in. I've got a feeling the key is closer than we know."
"What do you think is down there?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"I've been contemplating that since we first heard the banging. Maybe one got in? That's about all I can conclude at this moment."
"If that were the case, wouldn't they climb the stairs and bang on the other side of the door?"
"You've got a point. But what makes sense anymore?" he asked, looking down at his cross.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm sure we'll find a way out of this."
"It's good to have optimism," he began timidly. “Take a place by the window, and if anything happens, alert us *quietly\*."
"Will do," I said as he smiled reassuringly. The wooden chair next to the window wouldn't make for comfortable sitting, but its hardness meant I wouldn't fall asleep quickly.
Things had been progressing rapidly. I hadn't had a moment to think about the eerie turn of events. Our town of Ridgewood had gone mad. It was as if lunacy was carried on the winds, infecting the minds of many. Why were we unaffected? I couldn't say, and I wasn't sure I believed Pastor Dylan's proclamation of holy war.
But the people in town had turned on one another. Some form of rabies, maybe? For no apparent reason, they started killing anyone who wasn't as hostile as they were by any means necessary, and their lust for annihilation was insatiable.
However, they had devolved into a more primal aspect—one unfettered by the woes of the human condition. And as I sat there, peering behind the curtain, utter havoc was all to behold. Cars turned over, buildings were on fire, and trash lay strewn about the streets.
The flickering street lamps showed signs of power failure, and I wondered if we'd soon be living in the dark. But I couldn't stare out for long because seeing severed extremities, pools of blood, and other viscera unsettled my stomach.
"Anything out there–"
"Oh shit, Graham! Don't sneak up on me, please," I said, breathing rapidly.
"Sorry, I was just curious," he said, shrugging.
"If you're curious, look out there yourself."
"I would rather not. It's nightmare fuel."
"And you think I would? I'd much prefer to be sleeping like nearly everyone else."
He looked left. Then right. And then behind him before leaning closer. "You know that key? The one Pastor Dylan is looking for? Well, I found it. I've been keeping it a secret because I'm afraid of what's in the basement…"
"*You have it?!\"* I asked in a harsh whisper.
"Shhh! Don't tell anyone, please! Especially not Pastor Dylan," said Graham, patting the outside of his jacket pocket.
"Why shouldn't we tell him? What if there's a bunch of useful supplies stashed down there?"
"Because he doesn't seem… right. I think he's become too infatuated with that door and what's behind it. I worry about the ladder. Is it some kind of mon–"
BANG, BANG!
BANG, BANG, BAAAAANG, *BANG!\*
Everyone who was sleeping shot awake. Pastor Dylan pressed his ear against the basement door and held his finger to his lips. Mara kept her ear on the floor. Matt started biting his nails, and Ed and Linda held each other tightly.
Whispering across the room, I asked, "Father, what is it?"
"I think whatever *is\* down there is tearing the place apart. It sounds like toppling shelves. Check outside, now."
I looked outside but saw no cause for alarm. "The coast is clear. For now."
"Good. If only we could find that damn key! Blast it all!" said Pastor Dylan, lightly laying his balled fist against the door.
Knock… knock… knock.
"Don't knock, Father!" whispered Graham.
"I… I didn't," he said, stepping away from the door.
"What's all the racket?" asked Ed. Cantankerous as always.
"Whatever's downstairs seems to be trying to get our attention…" I said, a shiver starting at the base of my spine.
"Well, let's see what they want!" said Ed as he rose from the couch.
Pastor Dylan blocked the door. "No! We can't open it because we don't have the key! You would make far too much noise!"
"I don't care anymore! I'm sick of all the raucous coming from down there!" spat Ed as he rushed towards Pastor Dylan.
"Ed, no!" said Matt, trying to intercept him.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" demanded Ed, stopping to point his finger at Matt.
I looked outside, hoping to see more of the same. Instead, a crowd of more than fifteen strong were wandering up the street right past the house we were in. Matt and Ed's argument grew louder, and as it did, heads began to turn.
"Hey, guys?" I said without taking my eyes off the street.
"Once again, I don't know why you're still here! We should send you outside right now!" shouted Ed, approaching Matt.
"Get your finger out of my face, you old fuck!" Matt shouted back.
"Gentleman, please!" protested Pastor Dylan.
"Guys!" I shouted louder than everyone. What did it matter anyway?
"*What is it, Danny?!\*" asked Ed gruffly.
"They're fucking coming!"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
They started pounding on the house, clawing at the siding, and tearing it off. "What do we do?!" asked Graham worriedly.
"We need to be quiet, for one!" said Pastor Dylan.
"Everyone, *shut the fuck up!\*" said Mara; it seemed she had had enough.
While we all quieted down, the relentless threat outside continued their attempt at breaking down the walls. "What if they get in?..." asked Linda, standing to hide behind Ed.
"Shh!" hushed Pastor Dylan.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
"They're not stopping," I said just loud enough to be heard by Matt, who relayed it to Pastor Dylan.
SMASH!
"What was that?!" asked Graham fearfully.
"It sounded like a window!" said Mara, looking down the hall.
"Have they got inside?" asked Matt.
BANG, KNOCK, KNOCK, BAAAAANG!
"That came from down the hall!" said Pastor Dylan.
"We need to get the fuck out of here!" said Ed, shielding Linda.
"And where are we supposed to go?!" asked Matt confrontationally.
"I've been waiting for this, you fucker!" said Ed as he took a big swing at Matt.
Matt ducked and punched Ed in the thigh, causing him to howl in anguish. Pastor Dylan tried to get between them, but it was no use. Ed and Matt began grappling down the hall, knocking each other into the walls and against low-hanging paintings.
It wasn't long until blood smear speckled their faces. All the while, the banging from outside and inside continued. Mara tried to console Linda, but she was overwrought, shaking, and crying like a scared child. Pastor Dylan stared at Graham and me; it looked like he was about to run out the front door.
Suddenly, a separate door in the hall burst open, and more than five individuals poured into the hallway. The grunting and huffing from Matt and Ed transitioned into terrifying cries of agony. Linda ran from Mara into the hall, and within seconds, her blood-chilling screams entered the air.
I looked at Graham, whose eyes were on me. "The key, Graham! Now!"
"R-right!" he said as he fumbled with his pocket.
"Wait, the key?!" asked Pastor Dylan.
"We'll explain later! Let's just get downstairs!" I shouted, racing over to the basement door with Graham and Mara.
Graham's hands shook terribly as he desperately tried to unlock the door. It took the steady, interrupting hand of Pastor Dylan to open it. The moment the door opened, we all stumbled inside and swiftly shut it.
And for some unknown reason, all sound dissipated. Like the basement was proofed for noise. It was so quiet. You wouldn't think Linda, Matt, and Ed were being torn apart at the sinews of their muscles that very moment. But it was also dark, and standing on steps in the dark was a recipe for a broken neck.
"Does anyone have a light?" I asked quietly.
"Feel for a switch!" said Pastor Dylan.
I reached out and accidentally grazed Mara's eye. "Ow!" she said, smacking my hand away.
"I'm sorry, Mara! I can't fucking see!"
"Well, I *really\* won't be able to see if you gouge my fucking eyes out!"
"Enough, you two!" began Pastor Dylan. "Find a switch, or we'll be worse off than beyond that door."
I tried again, gently brushing my hands through the air. By a stroke of luck, I came across a very webbed switch and flicked it.
Light. But then I remembered something…
What was in the basement making all that noise?
I think the others made the same realization because they each immediately faced the bottom of the stairs. And yet, it was as silent as an empty church. Pastor Dylan, wasting no time, quietly asked, "Is someone down there?"
I thought I heard shuffling against concrete, but it was so faint that it might have been my hair brushing against the wall next to me. "Are we alone?" asked Mara.
"I'm not sure," said Pastor Dylan.
"Can we just go down and see?" asked Graham, seeming antsy.
"Fine. But go with caution," said Pastor Dylan.
We crept down, the steps creaking under our mass. The basement was illuminated by only two lightbulbs fixed in the ceiling. It wasn't enough to brighten every corner, but it was enough to see the abysmal state of the entire basement.
The shelves Pastor Dylan mentioned before our descent were tipped over, and canned goods spilled across the concrete floor. There was no sign of life aside from us, and both narrow windows near the top of the basement wall were intact. No one had broken in.
Did we imagine it?
“Well, there goes our chance at survival,” said Graham, nodding toward the spilled goods.
“Nonsense, we’ll make do. We must have faith in our Lord that he will provide the necessary means for our survival,” said Pastor Dylan, rubbing his hands together.
Then a muffled and restricted sound arose from one of the darkened corners. It sounded like someone attempting to speak through a duct tape-covered mouth. “Wh-who’s there?” I asked, squinting into the darkness.
More stifled noises arose—the sounds of struggling. I stepped forward, but Pastor Dylan stopped me with his hand. “What is it, Father?” I asked, turning to see his confusingly-wide eyes.
“Th-this isn’t possible…” he said, barely allowing the words to leave his lips.
“What isn’t possible?” asked Mara timidly.
He whispered, bringing his sweaty palm to his face, "Th-that's... It's... me..."
“You?... What?” I asked, brushing past him to walk further into the room. And then, a figure emerged from the corner, wearing tattered vestments, and covered in filth.
It was the spitting image of Pastor Dylan.
His hands were bound, and his mouth was ball gagged. His knuckles were red and bruised—he must have been hitting something excruciatingly hard to produce the banging sounds we were hearing when we were upstairs. On instinct, I began rushing over to remove the gag, but Pastor Dylan swiftly protested, “Wait!” he began, marching up to meet me. “We don’t know what’s going on here, so before we do anything rash, let’s think about this.”
“Think about what?” I asked him, “They look just like you! Maybe they know what’s going on and can give us answers?”
“I agree,” said Mara, cautiously surveying the room. There was an unopened door to my left with bloodstains on it. The wood was laden with claw-like markings as if a wild animal was desperate to reach whatever lay beyond it.
THUMP, THUMP, THUUUUMP, THUMP!
The floor above shook violently, many heavy stomping footsteps traveling throughout the house. I looked at the clone of Pastor Dylan, who was staring up at the ceiling fearfully. He began uttering incoherent sentences, frantic and trembling.
"Fuck this, I'm not waiting any longer!" said Graham as he approached the bound Pastor Dylan and pulled the ball gag off.
He immediately shouted, "Step away from him! He's an imposter!"
Pastor Dylan, the first one, stood silently. "Imposter?" asked Mara curiously, staring at the petrified pastor.
"Yes! He's a watcher! A guardian for those things out there! He's supposed to herd people into one spot and then attract the runners!"
"Th… that's not true…" said Pastor Dylan.
"You won't remember it! It's primal instinct! The owners of this home, Patty and Jeff, were some of the first to begin acting strangely. I came to ask why they hadn't come to church for over a month, and they lulled me into a false sense of security! Before I knew it, I was trapped down here…"
"What's behind that door?" asked Graham curiously.
"I have no idea! I couldn’t get a peek before it was closed for the final time. Nothing good, I'm certain of that!"
"And how do *you\* know all this? About them and those things?" I asked, keeping my distance from both pastors.
"Because Patty and Jeff told me. They revealed everything to me. That imposter standing next to you can hardly speak! Shouldn't that tell you something? Why would he be at a loss for words if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the *real\* Pastor Dylan?"
"Father?" Graham asked the speechless Pastor.
"I… I… You've fucking ruined everything!" he shouted as he rushed at the other, still-bound pastor. Mara stood between them but got knocked to the floor like a ragdoll. Graham swiftly moved to kneel by her side. The dangerously aggressive Pastor Dylan tackled the other, and they began thrashing about in a dance of violence.
I had a choice. Either help Graham and Mara, ignoring the strange turn of events, or join the fray and attempt to assist one of the pastors.
I chose the former because I didn't want to be responsible for anyone's death if it came to that. Mara was muttering faintly; she was dazed and bleeding from the back of her head.
Both pastors continued brawling. The other pastor tore his bindings during the rumble as they rolled towards the stairs, leaving bits of skin, fingernails, hair, and blood in their wake. The scuffle proceeded up the steps, followed by incoherent shouting.
Mara started coming around just as I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, only for it to shut immediately after. Then a roaring charge of footsteps trampled above us; it sounded like a herd of bulls falling to the floor from the ceiling.
Little streams of dust cascaded from the unfinished basement ceiling into my hair. Mara turned on her side so Graham and I could check her wound. It wasn't deep and seemed superficial.
Then all noise in the house stopped as if we had suddenly teleported to a realm of emptiness.
Graham looked at me, eyes watering, and asked, "Is it over? Will we be left alone now?"
"I don't know, my friend. I'm not strong enough to go upstairs and check."
"Am I okay?" asked Mara, her light-brown hair stained red.
"Yes, you'll be fine. Maybe there's something around here we can use to clean that up," I said, rising to my feet.
"Don't worry, Mara. Danny and I will keep you safe," said Graham, remaining at her side.
I rummaged through every piece of furniture, checked every shelf, toppled or otherwise, and delved into every dusty corner. There was nothing but webs and long-dead insects.
But there was still that door. The one with bloodstains on it. The one I had avoided for the sake of cowardice, hoping to subvert the need to search beyond it. Something deep inside me resisted every demanding urge to open it like I already knew what I'd find and couldn't bear to see it.
As I walked up to it, Graham piped up, "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"I couldn't find anything out here. Maybe Patty and Jeff stored more supplies in whatever room this leads to…"
"Graham's right, Danny. I'll be fine soon enough. We should all stay out here safely," said Mara, not sounding like herself.
"A part of me agrees with you, but another must satisfy my blooming curiosity," I said, reaching out to grip the tarnished doorknob.
Mara and Graham both said something, at the same time, that sounded like, "We tried to warn you…" Just as I turned the knob.
A horrible stench flew right up my nose. It was the smell of putrefaction---rotten meat. I squeezed my nostrils as a string dangling from the ceiling slapped my face. Reluctantly, I pulled it to light an old bulb, brown with age. But on the floor, stacked in a pile, was a mass of bodies.
And in that mass were the bodies of Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, and Graham.
I turned tail and retreated right into one of the darkened corners of the main basement. Graham and Mara only stared as I did, watching like apathetic sentinels. The synapses in my brain shocked me into a false paralysis. I couldn't even speak.
Ten minutes must have passed before my breathing calmed and I regained the use of my hands. It felt like breaking free of rigor mortis as if I had been dead for that short time. But worst of all was that Graham and Mara remained quiet. They didn't take their eyes off me the entire time or offer me any help.
"Wh-what is that in there?..." I managed to ask, though they said nothing. "Are you two… real?" I questioned further but received crickets in response.
I've been writing this transcript ever since. I hope this allows you to understand what happened in Ridgewood. On the hour, every hour, Graham and Mara shuffle a little closer. I’m not sure what they're waiting for. But each time it happens, a dreadful chill erupts from the pit of my stomach. And yet, I'm too afraid to go upstairs away from them.
There is something else too. I did say there was a mass of bodies, but I never said how many. And that's because there were six: Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, Graham and…
Me.
My body was decaying amongst the festering. That was the real reason I ran out so quickly.
Am I real? Am I still Danny Haronfield? How could this happen? *When\* did this happen?
They just moved closer.
Should I have stayed out in the street? You know what they say. If you can't beat them, join them.
It won't be long now, but you know what? I wish I ate more of that spaghetti. I'm fucking starving.

"Hurry, everyone! Get in the house now! We can't delay. They'll catch up to us any moment!" shouted Dylan, Ridgewood’s communal pastor.
I brushed past him into the quaint (and ordinary) white-picket-fence blue suburbia home. Graham, a friend of mine, followed close behind, and four other strangers came in after.
"Who's house is this?" I asked as I swiftly shut a pair of gray curtains over the living room window.
Pastor Dylan closed and locked the front door. Then he turned to look through the peephole. "It's one of… theirs. They won't be using it anymore, so I figured we could hold up here until this mess gets sorted out."
Graham proceeded to close the curtains over the remaining windows, and one of the other four of our band of stragglers (an older woman) began checking the kitchen cupboards. "But what exactly *is\* this mess? What's even going on?" I asked, itching a patch of poison ivy I got a few days prior.
"I would ask that we all remain calm. The Lord has given us a test, and we are his chosen few that must survive it."
"A test? A fucking test?!" asked an older man, who I assumed was the partner of the woman perusing the kitchen.
"Don't raise your voice, Ed!" said a man who had to be around his mid-forties.
"You can't tell me what to fucking do, Matt! You shouldn't even be here, you piece of shit carjacker!" spat Ed as Pastor Dylan gingerly walked over to them.
"That was fifteen fucking years ago, Ed. When will you let it go? I was in a bad place, doing bad things. People can change, and I've been clean for all this time!"
"Let's not lose our heads. Not in a time of immense trial. We must all remain cohesive and steadfast in our mission from God," said Pastor Dylan, holding the crucifix swaying from his neck.
"Tell that to those psychopaths out there," said a younger woman in her early twenties.
"Oh, Mara, when will you learn to trust in the will of our Lord and savior? When will you accept his gift as it was bestowed upon you?" asked Pastor Dylan, getting too close to her.
"When you can explain the horror show outside. People are beating each other senselessly, killing their neighbors. Ravenous mouth-frothing lunatics ripping themselves limb from limb for seemingly *no\* reason. Explain how *that\* is a 'gift from God.'"
"Child, the gift is the ability to overcome this hardship. The test, now that is something I've yet to find the answer to. My hypothesis? Lucifer has finally come to wreak his unholy kingdom upon our fair town."
"Why?" began the older woman, emerging from the kitchen empty-handed. "Why Ridgewood? There wasn't anything on the news. Ed and I were sitting in our parlor watching TV when it all began, and none of it makes sense…"
"Maybe it started close to the new station, so they weren't able to get the word out fast enough?" said Graham, giving me a nod.
"Yeah, and we all barely made it here with our lives. The real question is, why aren't we affected?" I asked, plopping down on a well-worn couch.
"I've already told you, young Danny, we are God's chosen! We will bring forth his good kingdom against the evil of the devil. It's as simple as that," said Pastor Dylan.
"Forgive me if I can't subscribe to that level of zealotry, Father," said Matt, moving further away from Ed.
"Zealotry or not, we have come together to weather this storm! And we must all get along if we want to see the golden light of our heavenly sun."
"Well said, Dylan. As always," said the older woman.
"Thank you, Linda. Now, we have work to do. Graham and Danny, can you both search the rooms for anything useful? Ed and Linda, can you return to the kitchen and count our rations? Matt and I will keep watch for… them."
"I'm not sharing a house with that fucking criminal!" said Ed, pointing a condemning finger at Matt.
"Careful, old timer, you might pump that blood pressure up way too high for your heart to handle," said Matt, scowling.
"What did you say to me, punk!" asked Ed, but Pastor Dylan placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Ed, please. Pacify your nerves. The kingdom of heaven welcomes all who accept the Lord. Matt has been a devout visitor at the church for many, many years. I trust and forgive him for his past deeds."
"I just don't like him, Father. What if he's one of them?"
"One of them? I'm not one of those… things! If I was, don't you think I'd be trying to kill you right now?" asked Matt, cowering in a dark corner.
"Yeah, maybe. Or, you've just got some kind of control over it!" said Ed, spitting with each word.
"No more, Ed. Take Linda, and go to the kitchen. Please. We will discuss this further later," said Pastor Dylan.
Ed stared fiercely at Matt for a short time before huffing and walking with Linda toward the kitchen. When Pastor Dylan's eyes fell on Graham and me, we sprung up and ventured down the nearby, dimly lit hallway.
The home appeared to have seven doors. Two led to bedrooms, one to an office, one to a bathroom, and one to a closet. But the last door was locked by a heavy-duty master lock to which we didn't have the key.
"Father, do you know what's behind this door?" I asked, pulling on the lock.
"Door? Oh, I think it leads to a basement. Many of these homes tout a single story, but I've always said a basement counts as two!" he said with a friendly grin.
"They're outside," said Matt, peering through the living room curtain.
I quietly walked over to him as he moved away from the curtain. A roving group of at least fifty… people were passing through the street. Even from the window, I could see their bulging-red eyes and the white foam frothing from their seething mouths.
"Look at them all…" said Graham over my shoulder.
"Shh… We all need to whisper now. If they hear us, we're likely dead," I said, letting the curtain softly fall into place.
"What's going on out here?" asked Ed, far too loudly.
"Quiet down! They're in the street," said Matt.
"Fuck you. I don't care who's where just as long as *you\* ain't there!"
"Well, I am *here\,* old-timer. Deal with it. We can scrap when this is over if you still hate me."
"It would be my fucking pleasure," said Ed, cracking his knuckles.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
I ducked. "What the hell was that?" I asked, darting my eyes all around.
"I… I think it came from below us," said Mara, putting her ear to the floor.
"Below? But there's a lock on the door–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Oh fuck. That was from outside," said Graham, moving away from the outer walls.
"Matt, go check," said Pastor Dylan, gripping his cross again.
Matt obliged, striding swiftly to the living room window. "Yeah, I think some of them heard that," he began. "They're pounding against the siding."
"I say we send him out there as a distraction. Buy us some more time," said Ed, crossing his arms tightly.
"Ed, please. Be reasonable. Could you really live with ending someone's life?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"Humph! No, I suppose not. But I still don't like him!"
"That's fine–"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
"Fuck, what if they get in?" I asked, anxiety bubbling in my stomach.
"Everyone be quiet. They might go away if we keep our voices down…" said Pastor Dylan.
"And what about the sound in the basement?" asked Mara, casting her gaze on the basement door.
"We'll deal with that *after\* they leave us alone," said Pastor Dylan.
"Father, we still don't even know what *they\* are," said Linda, holding onto Ed's arm. He seemed displeased by her touch.
"Yeah, maybe they just need help?" said Graham optimistically.
"No, dude. Did you not see Justin and his mom? They were destroying each other. Nobody in their right mind would gnaw their own son's arm off," I said. The statement made me shudder.
"So, are they… zombies?" asked Matt.
"Fucking moron. Of course they're not zombies! They must be high on something. Some new age shit that's driving them crazy," said Ed, though I wasn't sure he believed any of it.
"They have become servants of hell. What more do you need to know?" said Pastor Dylan.
Matt moved over to the curtain again. "It looks like they've lost interest. From here, they don't look much like zombies. But they bite flesh, and that speaks on the contrary…"
"They're *not\* zombies," said Ed, growing further irate.
"Maybe it's some kind of airborne thing?" suggested Mara.
"If that were true, why weren't we affected?" I asked, scratching the poison ivy again.
"I've already told you all," began Pastor Dylan. "We are warriors of God. We will bring about the new world."
"We're in the clear. For now," said Matt, moving away from the curtain.
"Father, don't you think it's a bit odd that only seven of us were 'chosen'? Surely it would take an army to stop such a destructive force," I said, looking at Mara, who was picking at her cuticles.
"As a man of faith. It is the only possible conclusion. I see havoc, terror, and fear in the eyes of all of you. Only the vileness of Lucifer could create such things. If any of you have evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."
"None of us know anything…" said Mara quietly.
BANG… BAAAAANNNGG!
"That was downstairs again," I said.
"Matt, the curtains," said Pastor Dylan.
"No, there aren't any around," said Matt.
"What the fuck is that sound?" asked Ed.
"Ed, darling, please stop swearing so much…" pleaded Linda.
"Sorry, honey. My blood pressure is through the roof."
Linda smiled endearingly at him as Pastor Dylan checked the basement door. He jiggled the lock and felt above the door frame. "Did you two happen to find a key ring during your search?" he asked Graham and me.
"No, nothing," said Graham, turning out his pockets.
"There wasn't much of anything in those rooms, Father. Mostly clothes and electronics," I said, continuing to watch Mara dig at her skin.
"The key has to be somewhere…" said Pastor Dylan unassuredly.
"What if the keys are with… you know, the owners of the home?" I asked.
"Patty and Jeff always traveled lightly. I can’t imagine they would bring a key to their basement door whenever they left."
"But, Father. It could have been on a keyring. You asked us yourself to look for one, thinking that one already existed. It could be that today they decided to bring it with them, in which case, we're fucked," I said, shooting a glance at Graham, who swallowed nervously.
"I have a hunch that the key is somewhere in this house. But night is approaching, and I'm sure we're all hungry," said Pastor Dylan.
"I don't know how anyone could have an appetite after what we saw out there…" said Mara, burying her face between her knees.
"You have to eat, Mara. You'll be of no help to anyone malnourished and exhausted," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yeah, and we can't have you wasting away!" said Graham, smiling at her.
"We've got all the makings of spaghetti, that'll be a filling meal for all of us, and hopefully, there will be more information tomorrow…" said Linda from the kitchen.
"Remember to keep your voices down. We know they're attracted to sound. Even the slightest utterance could send them stampeding toward us," said Pastor Dylan, receding into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To search the rooms again. I don't know how much I trust leaving discovery to a couple of twenty-somethings," he said, winking at me.
"Suit yourself," I said, kicking my legs up on the couch.
Graham sat in a chair next to the living room window and occasionally peered at the street. I figured if something dangerous was close by, he would notify us. Mara laid on the floor; I couldn’t imagine it was comfortable.
Linda and Ed kept as quiet as they could in the kitchen. Sometimes the banging of pots and pans would ring out. Each time put me further on edge, but Graham never said anything, so the sound must have been quiet enough. My stomach rumbled when the pleasant smell of beef cooking wafted through the air.
I was starving. I hadn't eaten all day. But having spent all my energy running left me without the willpower to stay awake.
I closed my eyes and passed out.
Graham shook me awake about two hours later, or so the clock said. For some reason, I wasn't sure they were working. "Hey, man. Food's been done for quite a while, but everyone agreed that it was best to let you get some shut-eye. Pastor Dylan said we'd need to take shifts staying awake to watch the street, so get some leftovers in the kitchen."
"What?... Oh, sorry… I'm way out of it. Give me a moment to collect my head," I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
"No worries. There's plenty of food left, so help yourself.
"Don't take too much. We need to make this last," said Ed, glaring at me from the chair Graham had been sitting in.
"I won't. I don't eat that much," I said, lying through my teeth.
"Just hurry up, Danny. We'll need your eyes to help keep us safe," said Pastor Dylan.
"Yes, Father," I said, groggily rising to my feet.
BANG, BANG, BAAANG, BANG!
"Shit! There it is again," I said.
"Believe it or not, that's been going on since about ten minutes after you passed out," said Mara.
"Really? Do we have any idea what it is?"
"No, Mara says she can't hear anything whenever she puts her ear to the floor," said Matt from across the room.
"Nobody fucking asked you," said Ed.
"Ed, stop! Why must you start petty squabbles amid the chaos?" asked Pastor Dylan.
"I'm sorry, Father. I can't seem to keep my mind off it."
"Well, see to it that you do. Sooner rather than later," said Pastor Dylan as he faced the basement door.
"Wait, did you find the key?" I asked.
"No, it's the strangest thing. I found a keyring in a room that Graham had apparently searched and somehow missed. Regardless, none of the keys go to this lock. I can't make heads or tails of it," he said, glancing curiously at Graham.
"Don't look at me," said Graham, sitting in the indent on the couch I had created.
"Maybe it'll turn up later. We need to figure out what's down there because the more noise in here, the more awful things out there want in," I said, beginning to walk to the kitchen.
"They aren't 'things,' they're people…" said Linda, clinging onto Ed.
"Right… people," I said, disappearing from the living room. The spaghetti was cold. Also, no one would let me use the microwave, which made it taste like three-day-old dog food (don't ask how I know that.) But I scarfed it down and rejoined the others, who were all deadly quiet.
Mara was asleep on the floor, Ed and Linda sat on the other end of the couch, Matt sat against a wall, eyes closed, and Pastor Dylan was still examining the basement door.
"Ready to watch?" he asked as I approached him.
"Ready as I'll ever be. Are you going to rest?"
"I think I'll inspect the rooms a little longer before settling in. I've got a feeling the key is closer than we know."
"What do you think is down there?" I asked, leaning against the wall.
"I've been contemplating that since we first heard the banging. Maybe one got in? That's about all I can conclude at this moment."
"If that were the case, wouldn't they climb the stairs and bang on the other side of the door?"
"You've got a point. But what makes sense anymore?" he asked, looking down at his cross.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm sure we'll find a way out of this."
"It's good to have optimism," he began timidly. “Take a place by the window, and if anything happens, alert us *quietly\*."
"Will do," I said as he smiled reassuringly. The wooden chair next to the window wouldn't make for comfortable sitting, but its hardness meant I wouldn't fall asleep quickly.
Things had been progressing rapidly. I hadn't had a moment to think about the eerie turn of events. Our town of Ridgewood had gone mad. It was as if lunacy was carried on the winds, infecting the minds of many. Why were we unaffected? I couldn't say, and I wasn't sure I believed Pastor Dylan's proclamation of holy war.
But the people in town had turned on one another. Some form of rabies, maybe? For no apparent reason, they started killing anyone who wasn't as hostile as they were by any means necessary, and their lust for annihilation was insatiable.
However, they had devolved into a more primal aspect—one unfettered by the woes of the human condition. And as I sat there, peering behind the curtain, utter havoc was all to behold. Cars turned over, buildings were on fire, and trash lay strewn about the streets.
The flickering street lamps showed signs of power failure, and I wondered if we'd soon be living in the dark. But I couldn't stare out for long because seeing severed extremities, pools of blood, and other viscera unsettled my stomach.
"Anything out there–"
"Oh shit, Graham! Don't sneak up on me, please," I said, breathing rapidly.
"Sorry, I was just curious," he said, shrugging.
"If you're curious, look out there yourself."
"I would rather not. It's nightmare fuel."
"And you think I would? I'd much prefer to be sleeping like nearly everyone else."
He looked left. Then right. And then behind him before leaning closer. "You know that key? The one Pastor Dylan is looking for? Well, I found it. I've been keeping it a secret because I'm afraid of what's in the basement…"
"*You have it?!\"* I asked in a harsh whisper.
"Shhh! Don't tell anyone, please! Especially not Pastor Dylan," said Graham, patting the outside of his jacket pocket.
"Why shouldn't we tell him? What if there's a bunch of useful supplies stashed down there?"
"Because he doesn't seem… right. I think he's become too infatuated with that door and what's behind it. I worry about the ladder. Is it some kind of mon–"
BANG, BANG!
BANG, BANG, BAAAAANG, *BANG!\*
Everyone who was sleeping shot awake. Pastor Dylan pressed his ear against the basement door and held his finger to his lips. Mara kept her ear on the floor. Matt started biting his nails, and Ed and Linda held each other tightly.
Whispering across the room, I asked, "Father, what is it?"
"I think whatever *is\* down there is tearing the place apart. It sounds like toppling shelves. Check outside, now."
I looked outside but saw no cause for alarm. "The coast is clear. For now."
"Good. If only we could find that damn key! Blast it all!" said Pastor Dylan, lightly laying his balled fist against the door.
Knock… knock… knock.
"Don't knock, Father!" whispered Graham.
"I… I didn't," he said, stepping away from the door.
"What's all the racket?" asked Ed. Cantankerous as always.
"Whatever's downstairs seems to be trying to get our attention…" I said, a shiver starting at the base of my spine.
"Well, let's see what they want!" said Ed as he rose from the couch.
Pastor Dylan blocked the door. "No! We can't open it because we don't have the key! You would make far too much noise!"
"I don't care anymore! I'm sick of all the raucous coming from down there!" spat Ed as he rushed towards Pastor Dylan.
"Ed, no!" said Matt, trying to intercept him.
"Stay the fuck away from me!" demanded Ed, stopping to point his finger at Matt.
I looked outside, hoping to see more of the same. Instead, a crowd of more than fifteen strong were wandering up the street right past the house we were in. Matt and Ed's argument grew louder, and as it did, heads began to turn.
"Hey, guys?" I said without taking my eyes off the street.
"Once again, I don't know why you're still here! We should send you outside right now!" shouted Ed, approaching Matt.
"Get your finger out of my face, you old fuck!" Matt shouted back.
"Gentleman, please!" protested Pastor Dylan.
"Guys!" I shouted louder than everyone. What did it matter anyway?
"*What is it, Danny?!\*" asked Ed gruffly.
"They're fucking coming!"
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!
They started pounding on the house, clawing at the siding, and tearing it off. "What do we do?!" asked Graham worriedly.
"We need to be quiet, for one!" said Pastor Dylan.
"Everyone, *shut the fuck up!\*" said Mara; it seemed she had had enough.
While we all quieted down, the relentless threat outside continued their attempt at breaking down the walls. "What if they get in?..." asked Linda, standing to hide behind Ed.
"Shh!" hushed Pastor Dylan.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
"They're not stopping," I said just loud enough to be heard by Matt, who relayed it to Pastor Dylan.
SMASH!
"What was that?!" asked Graham fearfully.
"It sounded like a window!" said Mara, looking down the hall.
"Have they got inside?" asked Matt.
BANG, KNOCK, KNOCK, BAAAAANG!
"That came from down the hall!" said Pastor Dylan.
"We need to get the fuck out of here!" said Ed, shielding Linda.
"And where are we supposed to go?!" asked Matt confrontationally.
"I've been waiting for this, you fucker!" said Ed as he took a big swing at Matt.
Matt ducked and punched Ed in the thigh, causing him to howl in anguish. Pastor Dylan tried to get between them, but it was no use. Ed and Matt began grappling down the hall, knocking each other into the walls and against low-hanging paintings.
It wasn't long until blood smear speckled their faces. All the while, the banging from outside and inside continued. Mara tried to console Linda, but she was overwrought, shaking, and crying like a scared child. Pastor Dylan stared at Graham and me; it looked like he was about to run out the front door.
Suddenly, a separate door in the hall burst open, and more than five individuals poured into the hallway. The grunting and huffing from Matt and Ed transitioned into terrifying cries of agony. Linda ran from Mara into the hall, and within seconds, her blood-chilling screams entered the air.
I looked at Graham, whose eyes were on me. "The key, Graham! Now!"
"R-right!" he said as he fumbled with his pocket.
"Wait, the key?!" asked Pastor Dylan.
"We'll explain later! Let's just get downstairs!" I shouted, racing over to the basement door with Graham and Mara.
Graham's hands shook terribly as he desperately tried to unlock the door. It took the steady, interrupting hand of Pastor Dylan to open it. The moment the door opened, we all stumbled inside and swiftly shut it.
And for some unknown reason, all sound dissipated. Like the basement was proofed for noise. It was so quiet. You wouldn't think Linda, Matt, and Ed were being torn apart at the sinews of their muscles that very moment. But it was also dark, and standing on steps in the dark was a recipe for a broken neck.
"Does anyone have a light?" I asked quietly.
"Feel for a switch!" said Pastor Dylan.
I reached out and accidentally grazed Mara's eye. "Ow!" she said, smacking my hand away.
"I'm sorry, Mara! I can't fucking see!"
"Well, I *really\* won't be able to see if you gouge my fucking eyes out!"
"Enough, you two!" began Pastor Dylan. "Find a switch, or we'll be worse off than beyond that door."
I tried again, gently brushing my hands through the air. By a stroke of luck, I came across a very webbed switch and flicked it.
Light. But then I remembered something…
What was in the basement making all that noise?
I think the others made the same realization because they each immediately faced the bottom of the stairs. And yet, it was as silent as an empty church. Pastor Dylan, wasting no time, quietly asked, "Is someone down there?"
I thought I heard shuffling against concrete, but it was so faint that it might have been my hair brushing against the wall next to me. "Are we alone?" asked Mara.
"I'm not sure," said Pastor Dylan.
"Can we just go down and see?" asked Graham, seeming antsy.
"Fine. But go with caution," said Pastor Dylan.
We crept down, the steps creaking under our mass. The basement was illuminated by only two lightbulbs fixed in the ceiling. It wasn't enough to brighten every corner, but it was enough to see the abysmal state of the entire basement.
The shelves Pastor Dylan mentioned before our descent were tipped over, and canned goods spilled across the concrete floor. There was no sign of life aside from us, and both narrow windows near the top of the basement wall were intact. No one had broken in.
Did we imagine it?
“Well, there goes our chance at survival,” said Graham, nodding toward the spilled goods.
“Nonsense, we’ll make do. We must have faith in our Lord that he will provide the necessary means for our survival,” said Pastor Dylan, rubbing his hands together.
Then a muffled and restricted sound arose from one of the darkened corners. It sounded like someone attempting to speak through a duct tape-covered mouth. “Wh-who’s there?” I asked, squinting into the darkness.
More stifled noises arose—the sounds of struggling. I stepped forward, but Pastor Dylan stopped me with his hand. “What is it, Father?” I asked, turning to see his confusingly-wide eyes.
“Th-this isn’t possible…” he said, barely allowing the words to leave his lips.
“What isn’t possible?” asked Mara timidly.
He whispered, bringing his sweaty palm to his face, "Th-that's... It's... me..."
“You?... What?” I asked, brushing past him to walk further into the room. And then, a figure emerged from the corner, wearing tattered vestments, and covered in filth.
It was the spitting image of Pastor Dylan.
His hands were bound, and his mouth was ball gagged. His knuckles were red and bruised—he must have been hitting something excruciatingly hard to produce the banging sounds we were hearing when we were upstairs. On instinct, I began rushing over to remove the gag, but Pastor Dylan swiftly protested, “Wait!” he began, marching up to meet me. “We don’t know what’s going on here, so before we do anything rash, let’s think about this.”
“Think about what?” I asked him, “They look just like you! Maybe they know what’s going on and can give us answers?”
“I agree,” said Mara, cautiously surveying the room. There was an unopened door to my left with bloodstains on it. The wood was laden with claw-like markings as if a wild animal was desperate to reach whatever lay beyond it.
THUMP, THUMP, THUUUUMP, THUMP!
The floor above shook violently, many heavy stomping footsteps traveling throughout the house. I looked at the clone of Pastor Dylan, who was staring up at the ceiling fearfully. He began uttering incoherent sentences, frantic and trembling.
"Fuck this, I'm not waiting any longer!" said Graham as he approached the bound Pastor Dylan and pulled the ball gag off.
He immediately shouted, "Step away from him! He's an imposter!"
Pastor Dylan, the first one, stood silently. "Imposter?" asked Mara curiously, staring at the petrified pastor.
"Yes! He's a watcher! A guardian for those things out there! He's supposed to herd people into one spot and then attract the runners!"
"Th… that's not true…" said Pastor Dylan.
"You won't remember it! It's primal instinct! The owners of this home, Patty and Jeff, were some of the first to begin acting strangely. I came to ask why they hadn't come to church for over a month, and they lulled me into a false sense of security! Before I knew it, I was trapped down here…"
"What's behind that door?" asked Graham curiously.
"I have no idea! I couldn’t get a peek before it was closed for the final time. Nothing good, I'm certain of that!"
"And how do *you\* know all this? About them and those things?" I asked, keeping my distance from both pastors.
"Because Patty and Jeff told me. They revealed everything to me. That imposter standing next to you can hardly speak! Shouldn't that tell you something? Why would he be at a loss for words if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was the *real\* Pastor Dylan?"
"Father?" Graham asked the speechless Pastor.
"I… I… You've fucking ruined everything!" he shouted as he rushed at the other, still-bound pastor. Mara stood between them but got knocked to the floor like a ragdoll. Graham swiftly moved to kneel by her side. The dangerously aggressive Pastor Dylan tackled the other, and they began thrashing about in a dance of violence.
I had a choice. Either help Graham and Mara, ignoring the strange turn of events, or join the fray and attempt to assist one of the pastors.
I chose the former because I didn't want to be responsible for anyone's death if it came to that. Mara was muttering faintly; she was dazed and bleeding from the back of her head.
Both pastors continued brawling. The other pastor tore his bindings during the rumble as they rolled towards the stairs, leaving bits of skin, fingernails, hair, and blood in their wake. The scuffle proceeded up the steps, followed by incoherent shouting.
Mara started coming around just as I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, only for it to shut immediately after. Then a roaring charge of footsteps trampled above us; it sounded like a herd of bulls falling to the floor from the ceiling.
Little streams of dust cascaded from the unfinished basement ceiling into my hair. Mara turned on her side so Graham and I could check her wound. It wasn't deep and seemed superficial.
Then all noise in the house stopped as if we had suddenly teleported to a realm of emptiness.
Graham looked at me, eyes watering, and asked, "Is it over? Will we be left alone now?"
"I don't know, my friend. I'm not strong enough to go upstairs and check."
"Am I okay?" asked Mara, her light-brown hair stained red.
"Yes, you'll be fine. Maybe there's something around here we can use to clean that up," I said, rising to my feet.
"Don't worry, Mara. Danny and I will keep you safe," said Graham, remaining at her side.
I rummaged through every piece of furniture, checked every shelf, toppled or otherwise, and delved into every dusty corner. There was nothing but webs and long-dead insects.
But there was still that door. The one with bloodstains on it. The one I had avoided for the sake of cowardice, hoping to subvert the need to search beyond it. Something deep inside me resisted every demanding urge to open it like I already knew what I'd find and couldn't bear to see it.
As I walked up to it, Graham piped up, "Are you sure you want to go in there?"
"I couldn't find anything out here. Maybe Patty and Jeff stored more supplies in whatever room this leads to…"
"Graham's right, Danny. I'll be fine soon enough. We should all stay out here safely," said Mara, not sounding like herself.
"A part of me agrees with you, but another must satisfy my blooming curiosity," I said, reaching out to grip the tarnished doorknob.
Mara and Graham both said something, at the same time, that sounded like, "We tried to warn you…" Just as I turned the knob.
A horrible stench flew right up my nose. It was the smell of putrefaction---rotten meat. I squeezed my nostrils as a string dangling from the ceiling slapped my face. Reluctantly, I pulled it to light an old bulb, brown with age. But on the floor, stacked in a pile, was a mass of bodies.
And in that mass were the bodies of Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, and Graham.
I turned tail and retreated right into one of the darkened corners of the main basement. Graham and Mara only stared as I did, watching like apathetic sentinels. The synapses in my brain shocked me into a false paralysis. I couldn't even speak.
Ten minutes must have passed before my breathing calmed and I regained the use of my hands. It felt like breaking free of rigor mortis as if I had been dead for that short time. But worst of all was that Graham and Mara remained quiet. They didn't take their eyes off me the entire time or offer me any help.
"Wh-what is that in there?..." I managed to ask, though they said nothing. "Are you two… real?" I questioned further but received crickets in response.
I've been writing this transcript ever since. I hope this allows you to understand what happened in Ridgewood. On the hour, every hour, Graham and Mara shuffle a little closer. I’m not sure what they're waiting for. But each time it happens, a dreadful chill erupts from the pit of my stomach. And yet, I'm too afraid to go upstairs away from them.
There is something else too. I did say there was a mass of bodies, but I never said how many. And that's because there were six: Ed, Linda, Matt, Mara, Graham and…
Me.
My body was decaying amongst the festering. That was the real reason I ran out so quickly.
Am I real? Am I still Danny Haronfield? How could this happen? *When\* did this happen?
They just moved closer.
Should I have stayed out in the street? You know what they say. If you can't beat them, join them.
It won't be long now, but you know what? I wish I ate more of that spaghetti. I'm fucking starving.

Since a few people enjoyed my previous writeup, I came up with another map idea. As someone who wants to be a game designer one day and basically has no life at the moment, this is the perfect place to share some of my ideas.
As always, feel free to add your own ideas as well.
Location: Gran Dolor State Prison. Guanajuato, Mexico.
A massive prison complex rumored to have been built atop the ruins of an old Aztec temple recently demolished by the Mexican government, Gran Dolor is described as a "hell on earth" by anyone unfortunate enough be be incarcerated inside its walls.
The targets are Esteban Montoya and Antonio Alvarez. Esteban Montoya is the current head of the Moreno Drug Cartel, whose increasingly bloody war with the Delgados has some serious collateral damage. A calm and collected man who would normally be content with running his criminal empire from prison, the death of his nephew at the hands of the Delgados lead Montoya to strike a deal with the local authorities in order to get out as quickly as possible. Antonio Alvarez is Gran Dolor's warden. A former judge known for his sadism and public hate towards criminals, he allows fights (sometimes to the death) to break out between inmates (and often encourages them) for his own amusment. Behind closed doors, he plans on breaking Montoya out of prison in exchange for ratting out some of the other members of the cartel.
The prison itself is surrounded by thick walls adorned with guard towers, making it difficult to escape through regular means. Note: If 47 engages in unarmed combat with fellow inmates (barring Montoya or his bodyguards) while weaing his regular suit (Prisoner outfit) or the Prison Guard disguise, it does NOT count as an illegal action.
Similar to Hokkaido, 47 starts off with absolutely no items.
Mission stories:
Time and Silence - 47 can overhear two inmates talking about how one of them dug a secret escape tunnel but died before he could finish it. The player needs to locate the cell in question (It is abandoned and filled with a ton of books) and remove the wall leading to the tunnel entrance brick by brick. Then, the player needs to locate a shovel so 47 can finish the tunnel himself. After that, the player must approach Esteban Montoya (While wearing the Montoya's Bodyguard disguise) and tell him of the tunnel. The two of you will then mount an "escape" through the tunnel, which leads into the Aztec ruins below. The player has two options here - proceed with the esape or assassinate Montoya using any of the booby traps hidden throughout the ruins. (A bodyguard comes along so that you can't just assassinate him regularly) There is a boulder that you can shoot or push so that it runs him over, (Completing the You Call That Archeology? challenge) or you can manually activate one of the many spike traps. This area also contains the Aztec Warrior disguise. If you choose to proceed with the escape, you have two more options - You can assassinate Montoya by pushing him into the water when he leans over the pier (the bodyguard will turn around) or you can wait so that he tries to escape in a nearby speedboat. If you've installed a remote explosive, (Found in a safe inside the security room) you can trigger it while Montoya sails away into the horizon for a rather cinematic kill. Another thing you can do instead is to not participate in the escape and instead disguise yourself as Alvarez. Notify the elite guard in the sniper nest facing the exit that one of the prisoners is trying to escape and watch as he shoots Montoya.
And His Name is 47! - The warden is running an underground fight club between the prisoners, offering them basic things like "extra food and water" in exchange. 47 can learn of this while overhearing a phone conversation in the Staff room between a prison guard and the warden (the guard is asking he should do with an inmate who died in one of the fights) or by examining the dead inmate himself in the morgue. The player needs to enter the yard while wearing either the Prisoner disguise (standard suit) or the Montoya's Bodyguard disguise and knock out at least three other inmates. This will get a guard's attention, who will then lead 47 into the underground fight club. Montoya, who participates in the fights himself, (and was the one who killed that one inmate) challenges 47 to a sparring match in the ring. A short QTE session follows where 47 murders Montoya using some cool wrestling moves. (Which counts as an acident kill) Once Montoya is dead, the guards will panic and call Alvarez. Once he rrives, the warden will enter the ring and start yelling at the guards for not intervening, allowing for multiple kill opportunities. You can drop a light rig on Alvarez, (If you have a wrench) or activate a trap door that makes him fall through the floor.
Romance of the Three Cell Blocks - This is the hardest mission story to pull off, but it's definitely worth it. Upon listening to some of the inmates talk, 47 will learn that there is bad blood between the different prison gangs. While the Morenos are currently the most powerful drug cartel in all of Mexico, a few of the smaller street gangs such as the Los Profetas and Hijos de Mictlante see Esteban Montoya's incarceration as a power vacuum waiting to happen. The player needs to do multiple things for in order to trigger a full-on war between the gangs. There are multiple ways to do so, from beating up members of one gang while wearinng the clothing of another to stealing a gang's cocaine and placing it the cell of a rival gang to knocking out/killing the leader of a gang and then showing a photo of the body to one of the members. However you pull this off, each gang needs to be agitated in order to trigger the war. A full-on prison riot will then commence, with the warden ordering the guards to put a stop to it. The player can do multiple things from here. The first option is to allow the riot to play out and allow Montoya to be killed in the scuffle. Alvarez will be watching it all unfold from a balcony that the player can then push him from. Alvarez survives the fall, but is swarmed and repeatedly shanked by the inmates below. The second option is to take an Elite Guard disguise and help the guards quell the riot. (Similar to the swat raid in Contracts) During the riot, 47 can openly shoot at any inmates or gang members without arousing suspicion, as it counts as an "accident" (Although killing any other than Montoya will still void a SA rating)
Last Rites - Upon examining a note in 47's office, 47 can learn that there's an execution via electric chair scheduled for today. The man in question is Gabriel "The Angel" Sanchez, a notorious gun for hire for the local cartels. The player needs to find the executioner (who only got his job because the previous executioner got sick and is too squeamish to perform the execution) and take his disguise along with his phone. You can then use the phone to call the security center and tell them them that you're ready to perform the execution. Then, you can acess the main computer of the prison and switch around a few files so that when the guard responsible checks it seems like Montoya is the one being executed. Since whoever is being executed is wearing a burlap sack over their head, Alvarez will be unable to see Montoya's face or hear his pleas as he instructs you to pull the switch. Alternatively, you can give the actual executioner nausea medication so that he is able to perform the execution himself. A third option is to sabotage the electric chair with a screwdriver and then knock out Sanchez in his cell/take his disguise after giving the executioner his pills. The execution will then play out with 47 in the electric chair, except this time 47 will fake himself getting electrocuted. Alvarez will then usher everyone out of the room so that he can gloat to the "corpse" giving you a prompt to knock him out and place him in the electric chair. Now all that's left is to fix the chair and pull the switch.
List of challenges not related to mission stories: (Might add more later)
Guilty! - knock out 5 targets using the gavel while wearing the judge's robes.
DARE to defy - poison a target with fentanyl.
Doomsday - There is a massive Mayan calendar on display in Alvarez's office, use it to crush him in order to complete the challenge.
La familia - 47 can become a member of the Moreno Cartel by talking to Montoya accepting a contract to assassinate one of the other. Once a photo of the body is given to Montoya, an initiation ceremony will commence after which 47 is left alone with his target. Finish the intitiation ceremony to complete the challenge.
The Heisenberg Special - There is a tub of gasoline located conventiently near Montoya's bed. Once he goes to take a nap, the player can hit a button prompt to make 47 pour it all over the bed. Just throw a cigar on top to set him on fire and complete the challenge.
List of unique items:
Cocaine brick - Non-lethal weapon found in various cells inside the prison, on a few inmates and in the warden's safe.
Shiv - Lethal weapon found stashed behind toilets in various holding cells and hidden behind a few loose bricks (which can be removed if 47 interacts with that part of the wall) in different areas of the prison, and on a few of the inmates. Will be detected by metal detectors.
Baton - Non-lethal weapon that can be found on prison guards, in any of the security rooms, or in the armory. If 47 is wearing the prison guard disguise, he can use it to openly assault any of inmates (barring Montoya and his bodyguards) without it counting as an illegal action.
Remington MSR Sniper Rifle - Found on a weapon rack on the outer walls, in the armory or on a few of the elite guards. (the ones hanging out in the sniper nests atop the guard towers) Can only be carried opently if 47 is wearing the Elite Guard disguise.
Scalpel - Lethal weapon found in both the medical wing and the morgue.
Nausea medicine- Found in the medical wing. If a NPC is poisoned with these, they are unable to throw up even if poisoned with emetic poison later on.
Lethal Syringe - Lethal weapon found in both the medical wing (inside a locked cupboard) and in the execution chamber.
Bottle of fentanyl - Found in a cell containing a dead inmate and a pair of morticians who must be distracted in order to pick it up.
FX-05 Xiuhcoatl - Assault Rifle found all across the prison in areas inhabited by prison guards. (Such as the security room)
Obregón pistol - Pistol found on a select few prison guards, on Montoya's bodyguards, and all across the prison in areas inhabited by prison guards.
Food Tray - Functions the exact same way as a briefcase, serving as a way to conceal items inside the disgusting-looking food. Can also be thrown for a non-lethal takedown.
Bar of Soap - Found in the shower room located in the prison complex. Can be thrown. If it's placed in front of a NPC's walking path, they'll eventually slip on it and be knocked out.
Wooden Crucifix - Unique weapon dound in the prison chapel. There is a blade hidden inside the base, allowing for a lethal melee takedown. Can be carried openly.
Gavel - Unique weapon found in Alvarez's office, right on his desk. (He keeps it as a memento of his days as a judge) Features a special animation if use it knock someone out where 47 bonks the NPC on the head.
Blow Dart - A lethal version of the Sieker but with only a single dart inside. Found in the underground escape tunnel.
Macuahuitl - Lethal weapon found on display in Alvarez's office.
Cigar - Found in various cells and areas occupied by guards. Can be thrown as a destraction, but its main use is setting off gas/oil explosions.
List of disguises:
Prisoner - your starting "suit" consisting of of an orange jumper and not much else. Grants you access to 47's holding cell, the yard, prison complex/hallways, mess hall, solitary, and the underground fight club.
Chef - Grants access to the yard, staff room, prison comlex/hallways, storage rooms, laundry, and kitchen. If 47 is wearing this disguise, he can poison without attracting suspicion.
Prison Guard - Grants access to most areas of the prison, barring the outer walls and Montoya's cell. Can openly carry most weapons and assault (most) inmate NPCs (in a non-lethal way) without it counting as an illegal action.
Executioner - Grants access to the yard, staff room, prison complex/hallways, execution chamber, and morgue.
Mortician - Same as the Executioner. Can openly carry syringes and scalpels.
Elite Guard - Same as the Prison Guard, except they also have acess to the outer walls. Can openly carry sniper rifles in addition to other weapons.
Workman - Grants access to the outer walls, yard, staff room, the storage room, prison complex/hallways, and the toolshed near the docks.
Prison Warden (outfit) - Grants access to every part of the prison other than the morgue.
Montoya's bodyguard - Same as the Prisoner disguise, but grants access to Montoya's cell.
Gabriel Sanchez (outfit) - Grants access to his cell in solitary confinement, but hostile everywhere else unless the execution is being performed.
Aztec Warrior - A joke disguise similar to the Vampire Magician and Scarecrow disguises in previous Hitman games.
Hijos de Mictlante uniform - Same as the Prisoner disguise, but grants access to any holding cells affiliated with the Hijos de Mictlante prison gang.
Los Profetas uniform- Same as the Prisoner disguise, but grants access to any holding cells affiliated with the Los Profetas prison gang.
Priest - Grants access to the morgue, execution chamber, and staff room.
Judge Robes - Same as Aztec Warrior.

Time to eat!
Mirabel was finished with her cooking and asked Camilo to get the large platter from the cabinet. He paused as if deciding something then pulled out the stool and retrieved the platter. He helped her put the arepas and sausages on it, accidentally ‘dropping’ one (into his mouth). Luisa was just finishing peeling the eggs when Mirabel spotted Isa as she entered the kitchen. Luisa immediately stopped what she was doing to head her off.
“Anything I can do?” Isa asked her.
“No, we’re good, but you might want to go freshen up. You’ve got sticks in your hair,” Luisa whispered, “and Isa, where are your shoes?”
Isabela noticed Abuela then and touched her head and simultaneously look at her feet. She turned red as she rushed out of the kitchen leaving a trail of leaves behind her.
Luisa sighed as if a crisis had been averted and Mirabel wondered, had one? Of course, that meant if Isa was back then it was time to get the food set up. Dolores was already up and putting out the bowls of strawberries and juice glasses on the table.
Mirabel placed the last of the breakfast food on the side board as Camilo was busy putting his cakes in the cold box after pouring his milk mixture over them. Isa returned minus the sticks and with new huaraches and Mirabel gently nudged Abuela who was still sitting with her eyes closed near the window. There was a squawk from Pico as he swooped in to the dining room to announce the arrival of the honored guests. Abuela stood and watched with amusement as Antonio was talking up a storm while still holding his Tío Bruno’s hand. They were followed closely by Julieta, Agustín, Félix and Pepa.
“Feliz cumpleaños!” Everyone shouted together.
Pepa’s cloud burst into a rainbow as Félix pulled her closer and whispered to her. Julieta smiled as Agustín, gave her a peck on the cheek. Bruno, who had picked up Antonio, smiled as well as Antonio all but crushed his head in a hug as one of Bruno’s rats squeaked with delight. Casita joined in and clattered its tiles.
There were hugs all around and everyone got their breakfast and settled around the table. After a quick ‘salud!’ everyone got down to the serious business of eating. Everything was quite loud for this being breakfast. Antonio once again reprised his adventure with Isa. Camilo laughed when he got to the part about the stick. Camilo turned to Isa and she informed him that it was not just a ‘stick’ but a flowering tree. Antonio pulled on his brother’s shirt and whispered “It’s a stick.” Camilo snorted juice.
Mirabel who was sitting next to Dolores noted that she had a curious look of surprise on her face. Her shock melted into a smile and it made Mirabel wonder what was up. She got up to fetch a few boiled eggs and Casita clattered the tiles quietly near her and Mirabel looked out the window to see Mariano Guzman and his mother coming up the path. Mira glanced up at the clock and saw it was almost 11:30 already. Guess time does fly when you’re having fun. The wall clock chimed the half hour and Abuela said as she waived for everyone’s attention, “My goodness, look at the time. Let’s go, let’s go.” Everyone did and this inspired a flurry of activity almost as chaotic breakfast had been. The table was cleared in record time and dishes were piled up by the sink as everyone rushed about getting ready to go out.
The front bell rang and Dolores rushed over to answer it. Casita opened its door and Mariano and his mother came in. Her Abuela took her shawl down from the peg near the door and greeted them while somehow managing to ignore the chaos of her family rushing about. Mirabel waved to them as she hurried to her room. She opened the wardrobe and Casita pushed a small drawer near the bottom open. Mirabel pulled out her mantilla. She fussed with her hair as she pinned the lace to her head. Mirabel had managed to salvage the much-loved item from the wreckage. Lace making was one of those hobbies she’d first delved into and she smiled at the memory of her mother gushing at how beautiful her handiwork was. Once upon a time her mantilla has been a pretty blue that matched her skirt, but when Casita had fallen it got pretty beat up. The blue had faded because of all the yellow dust from Casita’s plaster and turned it to an odd green color that complimented her glasses. Fixing the tears had been one of the first things she did as she sat teaching the technique of making lace to her sisters in the evenings. Both were quick studies and by the end of summer both had made respectable mantillas for themselves. Mirabel had always been a fast worker and after finishing up hers, she got to work making one for Dolores, her mom and Tía Pepa.
She headed back downstairs as everyone appeared dressed for Mass. There would be no work today. No one was wearing the clothing that displayed their Gift. What she was not expecting was to see her Tío Bruno to there. He’d steadfastly declined going since returning to the family. Abuela only broached the topic once, and Bruno’s reaction to the request was not pleasant. She did not ask again after that and Mirabel wondered what had changed his mind.
Her Tío Bruno came down, wearing the new shirt and pants her father had made for him. He was looking at Abuela. Mirabel could see how uncomfortable he was and a look came into his eyes that made her think he’d turn around and head back to his room. Abuela turned and saw him there, she smiled and returned her attention to Señora Guzman and her Tío seemed to relax. Her father was grinning from ear to ear even before Bruno’s sisters started complimenting him on how well his clothes fit. There was a small bulge in his shirt pocket that he was alternately patting then ignoring. A tiny head popped out and Mirabel struggled to remember the name of that one. Fura…that was it. He’d given her that name because her fur was black as night and had eyes to match.
Camilo was standing off to the side as he leaned down to listen to whatever his little brother was saying. Her sisters joined her as they came into the foyer. The clock chimed the three quarters hour and everyone headed out the door. As she had always done, she turned and waved goodbye to Casita. Casita waved back and Mirabel let go of the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. This habit had not actually stopped after Casita fell. Every night while they were rebuilding, she would wave as she left, sometimes returning after everyone gone home for the day. She’d pat a wall, or talk to the empty halls hoping for an answer. None ever came.
That had been her biggest regret, losing Casita and why she’d worked so hard to rebuild her home. She’d never had a Gift to lose, but Casita had always been a true friend to her. Listening to her when she was lonely or just sad. Always offering a cheerful response. She’d only had a crude understanding of the things Casita was saying at first, but as she got older and her family more distant, she understood the house as well as her Abuela and mother. She’d leaned heavily on the house’s support as it really was her best friend. Then Casita died and it was her fault. Isabela nudged her out of her thoughts.
“Hey, you in there?” she asked when Mira hadn’t responded to her question.
“Yeah, Mira. You okay, you went all glassy eyed on us.”
“Sorry, guess I was daydreaming again,” she said blinking back tears.
“Uh, no,” Isa said, “You’re upset about something.”
“Yeah, spill it hermanita.” Luisa said.
“Can we talk about this after Mass?” she asked looking down at street.
Her sisters exchanged worried looks and each took one of her hands that she’d not realized she’d knotted up in front of herself.
“After mass,” Isa said gently.
“And don’t think we’re going to forget about it,” Luisa added.
Mirabel nodded, relieved she wouldn’t have to explain that. Well at least not right away. To distract herself she looked around at the townsfolk and realized they were all watching their little group. There were murmurs from some of the closest. She glanced at Dolores who was frowning. Mariano noticed too but he didn’t have any experience having Dolores as a girlfriend with her Gift. Dating anyone could be stressful, but dating someone with magically enhanced hearing was gonna be the real challenge. She just hoped he’d deal with it as well as her Tío and Father had. To his credit, Mariano took note and patted the arm she’d looped in his. He didn’t know why she was unhappy in that moment, but it was clear he was concerned for Dolores. Dolores looked up at him and seemed to grip his arm a little tighter relying on his support. It was then that Mariano proved to Mirabel that he was more than just a big dumb hunk. He must have figured out what Dolores was reacting to because he gave an uncharacteristically withering glance at the crowd around them and people actually stopped talking.
The priest, Señor Flores, was on the steps of the church, welcoming the parishioners as they arrived. As the whole Madrigal family moved past him, he smiled even more broadly. He no longer wore the toupee of years past, choosing instead to wear a biretta with his vestments. Her Tío Bruno gave him the barest of nods as he continued forward with his mother on his arm.
Mirabel and her sisters were sitting in the pew with her father behind Abuela, Tio Bruno. Her Mom and Tia Pepa were sitting on either side. Tio Felix, Dolores, Camilo, and Antonio were in the pew behind with the Guzman’s. The church itself was not large enough for all the folks that wanted to attend that Friday afternoon service. The vestibule was full, and the doors had been left open for those still outside. The Mass itself was pretty standard stuff, it was the announcement at the end that caused the stir.
As Señor Flores looked at Abuela, she nodded and he began as he raised his hands skyward and said for even those in the street to hear; “Please join me in wishing the most blessed of birthdays to Julieta, Pepa and Bruno Madrigal. Feliz cumpleaños Julieta! Feliz cumpleaños Pepa! Feliz cumpleaños Bruno!” The crowd readily joined in but there was a noticeable drop in participation when it came to her Tio. “My fellow parishioners, as most of you are aware, the Madrigal Family has had their miracle and magic restored to them through the grace of God.” There were murmurs from the congregants as he continued, “However,” he paused and waited for the quiet to return. “Some changes are to be expected and the family asks that you keep your requests to yourselves for the time being. Please bring any, and all needs to any of the members of the Town Council. A meeting will be held here later this week, the time and date for which has not been set.” And before anyone could protest, he said, “Please bow your heads and receive the Lord’s Blessing…”
Mirabel craned her head around and saw Mariano take his hands down from Dolores’ hands that she had covering her ears. Camilo was giving Mariano an appraising look as if deciding whether this person was worthy of his sister. Antonio was scrunched down also covering his ears, he’d never been a fan of loud people and Camilo pulled him closer to help calm him. Isa elbowed her and Mirabel remembered where she was and she quickly faced forward and lowered her head.
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Isa nudged Mirabel who was craning her neck looking at Dolores and Mariano. Mirabel’s faced front and blushed as she lowered her head for the blessing. Isa was about to do the same when she caught sight of her mother and Tia Pepa’s look exchange. She could not see what they were seeing but it probably had something to do with Tio Bruno or Abuela. She could see the sadness in her mother’s face that just as quickly was hidden away. She’d never wondered very much about her mother’s upbringing, but now…Isa decided it would be better to care about that later and she too lowered her head.
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Dolores covered her ears and closed her eyes to better shut out the shouts of the parishioners wishing the triplets a happy birthday. She felt hands, she assumed were Mariano’s, covering hers and opened her eyes in time to see Mira face front and lower her head for the Blessing. She moved her hands slightly and Mariano took his hands away. She’d been worried how he’d react to her Gift, worried it would be too much for him. Of course, it had only been less than a day but so far, so good. She smiled up at him to show her appreciation and he smiled back. Oh, what that smile did to her brain.
As she too lowered her head for the Blessing, she looked at the back of Mirabel’s lowered head and wondered how much of what was happening with the Miracle and Casita was due to her prima. When Casita fell the silence at first was deafening and it took time to adjust to the change. When it came back, she was genuinely afraid. But since the night before, even before she’d opened her door, she noticed her enhanced hearing was easier to shut down, easier to modulate. It was a welcome relief to say the least. Something she’d wished for since she was five.
While she’d never spent a great deal of time with Mirabel, whenever they were together, Mirabel would notice when she wanted to be left alone and would even go so far as to distract people away from her. Like her darling brother. Ah Camilo, he was growing up so fast. She paused in her thinking, ‘You sound like your Mamá.’
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Julieta looked past her mother’s bowed head at Bruno and Pepa. He was looking straight ahead, face blank. Pepa turned and caught her eye and looked meaningfully at Bruno’s hands. Julieta leaned slightly forward and when she saw the rosary there, she blinked. That should not exist. But there it was.
She clearly remembered the day four-year-old Bruno had finished it. He’d spent more than a week working on it and had been so proud of it. She thought of their mother, how she had praised his piety with much love and kisses when he’d given it to her for her birthday. But Julieta also held the memory of the day she, Pepa and twenty-year-old Bruno sat on the roof of Casita as he carefully, almost methodically took it apart. He’d likely been up there for hours before Pepa came to get her in the kitchen. They climbed and sat on either side of Bruno while he worked. Ignoring them while mumbling; ‘Sana, sana colita de rana. Dame un besito para hoy y mañana’ the bitterness in his voice was palpable.
Their mother and Bruno were more often than not, at odds with one another. Over the years, as a sort of punishment their mother would ask Casita to shift his room to the tower. She knew that he hated that more than anything else. Each time he’d relented and conformed to her wishes. Bruno’s room had moved no less than four times in the past six months but this time, he flat out refused to do anymore visions. So, it was this day his room moved permanently from the hall to the tower. To seal it their mother had Casita move her own room between hers and Pepa’s.
She’d banished him in his own home.
His hands were shaking now and several of the beads he’d spent hours removing bounced down Casita’s tiled roof. He watched them fall and became frustrated when several others bounced after them. She’d wondered how he’d gotten a hold of it. Obviously, he’d entered their mother’s rooms and taken it back. Now he pulled the next one off and crushed the tiny clay rosette with one of Casita’s tiles and watched the wind blow it away from him. Pepa’s cloud started to drizzle and she was stroking her braid in a vain attempt to make it stop.
Bruno looked at what remained and frowned. The anger in his face was clear and Julieta thought he looked more like the image on his door than ever before. He’d let his hair grow long, and he was angry most of the time. Pepa thought he did it to stop everyone telling him how much he resembled his father and in the same breath tell him how much he was not like him at all. Bruno continued now with much less care as he crushed several more until only the wooden crucifix remained. He lifted the tile to bash that as well but Pepa took the tile he’d raised and Juli told him it was enough.
“It will never be enough Juli and I don’t know why you two can’t see that,” Bruno said barely above a whisper. He looked over the edge and got up, “I could jump…” he didn’t finish the thought as Pepa’s shower intensified. Bruno sighed and his face softened back to the Bruno they were used to. He looked at Pepa and said with a small smile, “Just kidding Pep…I gotta go.”
He left then and Pepa hugged the tile before putting it down. Casita bounced it back into place and Julieta picked up the small cross. Pepa’s rain stopped and Julieta finally felt the tears that were slipping down her face. He wasn’t kidding. She put the cross in her apron pocket and she and her sister made their way off the roof. They stood together looking up that staircase that led to the tower aware that their brother’s door was wavering and Julieta feared Bruno would run away and leave them behind. She knew that if he ever did, she would not fault him for it, she refused to. Worse than that she knew that she wanted to leave too.
Julieta was jolted back to the present when the organ began playing to announce the end of Mass. Bruno had already stashed the rosary away and everyone stood to leave. The Blessing was over so the Priest and altar boys processed to the back of the church. The mass of people standing in the vestibule and the steps parted for them and the altar boy took up positions on either side. The Madrigals, as a whole, made their way to the exit. Abuela stopped and thank Señor Flores for the wonderful service. She rejoined Señora Guzman and together they walked toward her home without a backward glance. Dolores and Mariano headed in the opposite direction. Pepa watched them go with a look of sadness and a wispy cloud formed over her.
“You alright there, hermana?” Bruno asked.
The cloud above her head turned darker for a moment, but then quite abruptly vanished as Félix came up behind them. “I’m good, Bruno.”
He nodded and turned to Julieta, “Well I’m off to do…something.”
“You could help with the dishes,” Julieta said with a tilt of her head.
“I could, but that would be unlike me,” Bruno replied as if that should be obvious.
Julietta smiled at him, “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said as Agustín handed her a small wrapped package. “I made these for you this morning.” She passed it to him and added, “Each on tastes different so let me know which you like best.”
Bruno took it and hefted it. “I’ll do that. See you guys later,” he said and walked away in the direction of mountain split.
Agustín turned her around and put his head against hers and said, “You will not be doing dishes, mi amor.” And he looked meaningfully at his daughters who were standing nearby.
“But…”
“They are three capable young women, and besides they already volunteered.”
“Oh, then what-” she stopped when she caught the look in his eye. “More sandwiches then?” she asked with a shy smile.
“Definitely,” he said as he took her hand and guided her away for the church.
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Pepa curled her arm into her husband’s and she watched her siblings wander away. Looking back, she noticed Antonio all but falling asleep in Camilo’s arms. Félix went over and took him. Antonio seemed to wake up for a minute then was right back asleep.
“So, if you don’t need me for anything right now…” Camilo said hesitantly.
“You could help with the dishes,” Pepa said with a tilt of her head.
Camilo shifted to his Tío Bruno and replied, “I could, but that would be unlike me.”
“Honestly…”
Camilo shifted back to himself and added, “There’s something I need to talk to Mira about…for my show.”
In all the excitement yesterday, she’d forgotten about that. Isa was giving him a look, but Luisa said, “We’ve got it covered Tía.” Isa shifted her look from Camilo to her and Luisa just smiled as she turned Isabela toward the Casita. “See you later Mira, let’s go Sis, the sooner we get there the sooner we’ll be done.”
Mira looked askance at Camilo. Clearly, she had no idea what he was going on about but Camilo was looking meaningfully over at a group of kids their age then back at Mirabel and she said softly, “Oh yeah.” Camilo waved her over and Mira now bereft of her sisters left with Camilo for the other side of the plaza.
“Well, it appears the decision has already been made,” Pepa said to Félix watching them go.
“It’s good they can have some fun away from the old fogies.”
“Who you calling old…” there was a roll of thunder and Félix said, “Juli and Gus, obviously.”
Pepa quirked a smile and they both looked around when they heard startled shouts. Parce was carefully padding his way through the crowd and a few of the nearby townsfolk were reacting to the jaguar like he would eat them on the spot. The only way something like that would happen is if someone was silly enough to try to hurt Antonio. Pepa looked at her sleeping baby in her husband’s arms and shooed away the small thunderhead. Parce nudged her and Félix gently, she sighed and said, “Félix let’s get him home before someone does something foolish.” And together they headed up the path toward Casita.
1. Dolores
2. Camilo
3. Isabel & Luisa
4. Triplets pt1
5. Triplets pt 2
6. Triplets pt 3
7. Antonio
8. Despiertas
9. Profeta Fallido
10. Desayuno Sopresa