I suppose I should put some kind of explanation here, just in case this does end up making it's way to the outside world. Not that I hold out much hope for that, but at this point there isn't much else for me to do.
I wish I could tell you exactly how I ended up in this awful place. I really do. The last coherent memory I have is driving home at night down Route 81 with my wife Catherine in the passenger seat and my eight year old son Benjamin asleep in the back. After that there is this blur of impressions. Something about a road closure, a vague sense of nervousness, and then boom, I'm in this awful cell.
Monday, November 27, 2017
Not every tribe of the first people made their way into the history books. While some of our cousins traded and warred with the white man when he arrived on our shores, some of fell back into the wilderness, far beyond the reach of his colonies. Centuries later, when the sprawl of the big cities pushed too close for comfort, we simply and quietly merged in with the rest of the population. I hear stories that there are still some of us living our native way of life deep within the forests of the northern U.S. and Canada, where the endless timber is still enough to conceal them from even the electric eyes floating in orbit.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
The song "Gloria" holds the rare distinction of entering the canon of essential rock songs on two separate occasions. The original version by Them is a stripped-to-the bones torrent of raw sexual passion that paved the way for punk rock, and Patti Smith's version adds layers of depth to the song while maintaining its raw, primal, power.
Like much of the punk music it would influence, Them's "Gloria" is built on three chords, intermixed with a couple of open strums (when the strings of the guitar are struck without any of the frets being pressed), and, like the music of the punk bands that would follow in its footsteps, the song is a showcase for the amount of expressive power that a simplistic chord structure can produce.
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
I'm guessing none of you wanna read a bunch of bullshit about who I was and what led me to end up in the situation I am about to describe, so I'll keep it to the stuff that matters.
My name's Ted. About a month ago me and the boys went on a camping trip to a place called Blackriver Point up in the Pacific Northwest. Don't bother trying to Google it, you wont find anything, and I'm sure as shit not gonna tell anyone how I heard about the place. All you "here's a video of my visiting this crazy haunted site" types can look elsewhere, cuz this place is the real deal and I won't have the blood of idiots on my hands.
Sunday, October 29, 2017
Alright so I'm not totally sure what I should be doing with this, but I've asked around a bit and people keep pointing me to this community. It's probably no the best place in the world for a data leak but it's not like I got Julian Assange's number locked in my phone either.
I work for the Sheriff's Department at Elder's Ridge, Montana, doing any small time administrative tasks that they need from me. Most of the time this makes me a glorified secretary but today things are a bit different.
You see, we encountered something yesterday that is well beyond the capacities of a county with a combined population of a little over a thousand people, so all of a sudden I've gone from getting coffee to being responsible for digitizing all the documents that appear to be relevant to the events what happened in Fallen Pine.
Normally I'd never dream of being one of those people who endangers an investigation by leaking crucial information online, but the thing that nobody over at the station knows is that at my last job, doing basically the same thing down at River's End, some of the boys encountered something real similar to this. The department down there isn't much bigger than ours, so of course the sheriff sent word down the line just like we did earlier today, and when the big boys responded the only thing they would tell us to do was catalog every piece of evidence for submission and immediately halt our own investigation of the case.
At first we thought the just didn't want a bunch of small town podunk cops getting in the way of the FBI investigation we were sure was coming, but all that ever happened was a couple people who weren't even affiliated with any force or agency came down and took what he had collected, scoped out the crime scene and then disappeared without so much as a peep about finding a culprit.
I knew Red and Lorraine. Not well, but I'd seen them around town, and they always seemed like nice people. There's no way they deserved what happened to them and they damn sure don't deserve to have their case swept under the rug by some pencil pushers. That's why I'm putting this up here. That and the fact that people need to know about who or whatever it was that did this.
Friday, October 27, 2017
God, I don't even know where to begin. So much has happened in the past couple days that it feels overwhelming to try and get it all down. I don't hold any more hope for my own existence, but I just have this compulsion to let someone know about what happened. I doubt that many of you will believe me, but I suppose that the best chance I have of winning over those few among you who are inclined to take this kind of thing seriously is to start from the beginning.
I work at a little restaurant in downtown Philly. Just off of Arch St if you know the area, though if you do I suggest adding as much time to your commute as it takes to avoid that it at all costs. I don't know if it would have helped if I had taken a different route to work that day, but if you truly believe anything I am about to tell you then you'll understand that no precaution is too great.
Monday, August 14, 2017
It seemed like such a routine day when I first heard the screaming. I woke up just like any other morning, showered, brushed my teeth, got in my car, and stopped for coffee and a bagel on the way to the lab. I walked over to my station at the far end of the 50ft x 100ft room where all the audio people were set up. I was the first one in that day, so the normally buzzing bank of computers along the wall had that almost startling quiet morning people so love. It is an amazing thing to think about: that if I had shown up fifteen minutes later my life would still be normal. Oh well, dwelling on past failures never accomplished anything. That's not why I'm doing this.