Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Huygens Vs. The Werewolf

Blind with range, Raymond Eawest leaped over the cemetery wall to track down the taunter. In the confusion, tiny Joe, intensely adventurous for his age, broke from his mother's grasp and escaped in the dark to wander further down the road, soon finding the cemetery gate.

Peering through the black bars was an older boy. He looked almost as old as Joe's babysitter's brother. The boy frowned and shouted, "We've been teasing a little boy! I think we should stop now."

Joe gaped further and started sucking his thumb and behind the youth there soon appeared a very shaggy man. He almost looked like a werewolf, but more sad than scary. He soon looked even sadder as he, too frowned.

Joe let out a small gasp as a robed figure leapt from the shadows at the... werewolf?... crashing him to the ground. "Christiaan!" the man—growing ever furrier!—shouted. "I swear it wasn't me! I'm not your enemy!"

But before this stranger could reply, yet another figure entered the fray. It was Daddy, Raymond Eawest. Still too furious to think, his thoughts short-circuited and he was more concerned with causing harm than the fact that one of these men struggling on the ground had not been his tormenter. And Raymond Eawest knew many ways to cause harm.

Jens, meanwhile, after his centuries of dealing with other people, knew many ways to size a man up, and even in the gloom, he quickly intuited much of the character of his unlikely savior Raymond Eawest. He also knew much about making the impression he needed. All he didn't know how to solve was the enormous inconvenience of lycanthropy and its occasional transitions, like the one he was undergoing right at this moment.

Standing up more falteringly than he needed to, moving subtly a bit further into the darkness, brushing off his thankfully-formal attire, he said "Thank you, good sir," in a practiced voice that was both stately and contrite.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Building #334

"It was Auschwitz-Birkenau's dirty little secret. It was a place more heinous than any Holocaust historian would ever know. Because it and all paper traces of its existence would be destroyed far before any Allies arrived. There were, among the Jews and other prisoners, of course, those who could be made to do the unspeakable to stay alive. To do the unspeakable against their own people. Against their own blood. For this they would receive food and some luxuries, and would not be mistreated by the guards, too harshly.
There was a large hanger inside the south end of the building, and many trucks came and went all the time, hauling..."waste". I was standing guard on the northwest door of Building #334. I was issued a semi-automatic pistol and this electric cattle prod. It was my job to keep everyone in the building. That included the workers. My job and the job of the other two guards who had the other doors. One door was the garage door that the trucks entered and exited from. Outside this door there sat a menacing machine gun nest, wherein sat Hans Gerlach, leaning on a deceivingly slim automatic assault rifle called the FG42, the Fallschirmjagergewhr. He loved that gun, even though it was a paratrooper gun and he was just sitting in a nest waiting. It was situated opposite the garage door, and for some reason, pointed not away from it down the road that led back to the main Birkenau complex, but toward the garage doors. Apparently there may be a need to fire in that direction?"

Glenn looked at Jens and chuckled. He felt like a schoolboy being read a fascinating adventure story by some really wise and excellent storyteller.

Jens eyes grew dark.

"I have never spoken about that building to anyone. Being a lycanthrope for hundreds of years has its share of blood and brutality, but it is closer to the instinctive actions of a beast than what we are talking about at Birkenau, and especially in Number Three-Thirty-Four. German scientists have always been brilliant, but most have been of weak stomachs and have never been able to deal with the guilt that accompanies proper research on human subjects. That is why most had opted for using rodents and monkeys and such, as they do in the West. That all changed during the war. Suddenly the scientists and doctors had labor to do their dirty work. They could act clinically and guilt free from a distance while their experiments were being carried out and documented by some of the prisoners. Slave labor. So the most extreme of these "experiments" occurred at # Drei Drei├čig Vier. It was a lot to put up with even if I had plenty to eat all the time and lived the luxurious life of German oppressor."

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Verse 23

"09. 07-15-20. 01. 04-01-20-05. 23-09-20-08. 04-09-12-12-09-14-07-05-18-19. 19-03-08-12-15-14-07."

End Of Transmission.