Ode to Dracula
Searching, longing, wanting and patiently I have waited…
God why have you forsaken me?
Broken promises… Broken dreams…
Pale and cold to the touch
No more heartbeat…
No more shall I sleep
The darkness that I have become…
Lurking in shadows dark and damp
I fight this hunger as long as I dare
Holding her in the moonlight…
Quite beautiful she is under my trance
Emotions swirling, thoughts in my head begin to dance
A mother, A wife, A sister she could be
Pulsing, Pounding… how rhythmic the sound
Deep and penetrating… I taste of her essence
Through her sacrifice I live on
God why have you forsaken me?
This monster I have become
I welcome death but fear it may never come
Losing your soul in stormy weather
We began as one and were separated at conception
A lifetime spent searching because we believe the deception
Selfless submission is our foundation
Selfish vain desire spreads from nation to nation
We see no purpose in our creation, only survival, the purpose of evolution
Separate and divorce call it freedom and we sing revolution
Dog eating dog like a rat devouring a mouse
Each of us throwing stones from our own glass house
We are the children of a carpenter, made to build, not destroy
We play with each other’s lives like a kid with a shiny new toy
Are we able to rekindle a fading star?
From Adam to Atom some say we have evolved far
I do not wish to evolve, I was created perfectly, in the image of my father
Vanity plates, Vanity mirrors, look deeper… why even bother
We bought the book because it had such a beautiful cover bound in leather
If only we had read it before boarding a plane doomed to crash in stormy weather
Looking through this Keplerian like Johannes Hevelius… So many hidden symbols: Argo Navis… Linguistically I'm new to this game but never been a novice… Living life on the edge Argonautica…
Appolonius Rhodius rolled it out like Rhodimus Prime… This epic is not only for Jason and his Argonauts… An adventure reaching unequivocal heights… Setting the bar for today's astronauts…
The heavens a mystery to one without a sextant… Medea the treasure of my heart, you know I'm gonna sex that… Fleeced over golden desires with Hellenistic intent…
Uncle Pelias made too many a promise… Intolerable deviant behavior and he turned yellow like Jaundice… I Landed on Lemnos and found heaven for a G… Damn, if star gazing ain't heavenly.
Tell the Truth I
Where do I begin with such an American experience of reality, dreams, and nightmares? Streets paved in gold, concrete, and blood… My only options were to survive, get locked up, or die… I guess it all starts like every great story does; with a woman, a romance, and a death.
January 1988 was one of the coldest winters in history. I had just turned 13, growing up in small town West Virginia... CAP city. My father was a mystery to me even though he and my mother were married till the day he died. Nevertheless, I never knew much about him. He constantly worked or was at social events with the local mob families outta New York. My mother was a 3rd generation witch from a Cherokee tribe. Her grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee medicine woman and her mother was hard as stone, cold as ice, and strong willed. So growing up in my mother’s—Mary's—house, I would find voodoo dolls, old leather-bound spell books, and tarot cards instead of the usual jewellery, porn, and cash that other kids found hidden around the house.
My first experience with violence: I was quite young, barely old enough to walk and still old enough to remember. My mother came into my room and picked me up from my bed. Holding me as she carried me from my room to my parents' bed and laying down cuddled up to me. I remember her sweet smell, the warmth of her caress, and the feeling of love and comfort. My father always came home early in the morning around 4 or 5 a.m. I could hear him walk in and the front door shut… I woke up excited because I rarely saw my dad. I opened my eyes when he turned on the bedroom light. As I rolled over, I saw the glimmer from a long butcher knife being pulled from underneath my mother's pillow. I heard dad say, “Hey baby, I'm home," Mary turned over and drove that butcher knife through dad's left hand all the way to the hilt. I was horrified as blood splattered and poured from his hand. Unforgettable, that experience created the raging monster that grew inside of me for the rest of my life…
Tell the Truth II
Listen Jacob, "I really think we have had a breakthrough today!"
“Why, Doctor Richards, whatever do you mean?”
"Well, we’ve already established that your displaced anger comes from all the violence and abuse your mother put you through with all the rituals and beatings."
Doctor Richards continued, "I believe that you murdered all those people because of this pedophilic relationship with this prostitute Cookie and the fact that you felt betrayed when she died from AIDS."
Jacob sat up straight as a wooden board and replied in a slow, devious tone. "Well, no shit… that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you for over a year, darling."
Jacob clenched his teeth and almost snarled as he continued, "I killed those men and women because they were wicked, just like my mother.”
Dr. Richards could see that Jacob was getting agitated because he was making fists with his hands, clenching his teeth, and his breathing had shallowed. Dr. Richards insisted in a calming voice, "Jacob, just relax... this is a safe place... try to breathe like we've been practicing.”
In an attempt to ease the beast inside of Jacob White, even though he remained in handcuffs during their weekly psychiatric visits, Dr. Susan Richards was terrified of this man. The more she learned about Jacob White's history and his mental state, the more terrified she became. With most of her patients there was always a little light at the end of the tunnel—a little hope that they could reform, change or at least repent…
This was not the case with Jacob at all. There was no doubt, if given the slightest chance he would kill again, and again, and again without mercy or remorse. Jacob White had one solitary purpose in life—kill every woman who reminded him of his mother or every man that reminded him of a guy that had sex with Cookie. The best Dr. Richards could hope to do was medicate Jacob and keep him as calm as possible until his execution.
The Last Confessions of Jacob White
WARNING! This story contains descriptions of physical and sexual violence that some survivors may find particularly unsettling.
That sound again, beeep… beep… beep…
The radio turns on.
“This is Tony Tucci, The Tiger, welcoming you to Rock 105. Let’s get our day started with some classic ’80s Poison… ‘Every rose has its Thorn.’”
I faintly hear the music in the background as my eyes begin to slowly blink open, revealing the same one room apartment I’ve been renting for the last two years. Then it hits me… Today is such an important day that it makes me spring to my feet, which are already in motion.
I make the bed exactly the same way I’d done ever since my first week of boot camp at Fort Lejeune, tucked in nice and tight. I grab the quarter from the dresser and flick into the air with my right thumb and snatch it mid-flight slamming it back on the dresser. I look down, and of course it’s heads yet again.
As I walk into the bathroom, I take off my boxers and grab a rag from the rack hanging on the back of the door. Then, I open the glass shower door and turn on the hot water. I stand there watching the shower and bathroom begin to steam up. I can’t help but to think about our last conversation.
The way he looked at me… The way a starving lion looks at a bright-eyed baby gazelle from a distance. I could see both the struggle and the thirst for blood in his eyes as he gave me the once over that had become the usual ritual at the beginning of our interviews.
Jacob looked quite at home in his orange jumpsuit. He was smiling as he watched me take my seat at the table across from him. I motioned to the guard and asked him to please remove Jacob's restraints. He quickly began rubbing his wrists one at a time. He reached into his pocket, retrieving a pack of Newport cigarettes and a lighter.
Jacob thought to himself, “Looking at Michael sitting across from me I can see the excitement in his eyes. It’s our last little talk the day before my scheduled execution by the state of Alabama.” He lit his cigarette and smiled to reassure those pigs watching on camera that he intended poor Michael no harm.
Jacob greeted Michael in a jovial tone, “Aww yes, my young reporter friend, it would appear this will be the last of our meet’n greet sessions, no?”
Michael nodded as he turned on his recorder and placed it in the middle of the table.
“Well Michael, shall we begin”? Jacob said inquisitively, to which Michael nodded once again.
Jacob began speaking slowly…
“It was mid-October—I still remember the smell of decaying life mixed with the morning dew in the mountains of Greenbriar County, WV. I had been hiding in a small wooden cabin I discovered fleeing from the nationwide manhunt. It was day 44 and I had been there for 3 days living off of the few items I found in the refrigerator and cabinets.
I had grown quite bored and decided I needed a little exercise, so I went for a morning stretch, hiking through the forest, but I could feel the hunger of the beast raging inside of me. Mesmerized by its voice, I could faintly hear it growling in my head… Feed me, feed me more. L-u-c-k-i-l-y, that cabin wasn't far from civilization.
As I neared the edge of the forest, I could hear a man and woman arguing. Apparently, the lady was angry because she found some message on her boyfriend’s phone. She couldn't have been older than 25, and she was very easy on the eyes…
Her shorts left little to the imagination—I must admit, she gave me one hell of a hard on. Without warning, she drew her right hand back and slapped his face with such ferocity that I could have sworn I felt it too. The little man-pussy started to tear up. I almost laughed out loud, but thankfully I caught myself before someone noticed me.
I watched as he turned and walked away from her. The beast inside of me urging me on, I followed her as she walked in the opposite direction, still bitching to herself. I remained silent, hiding in the brush of the forest, watching as she plopped down on a fallen tree and began to sob uncontrollably.
Closer... Closer... Slowly, I made my way down to her… As I got closer, I could smell the sweet decadence of her perfume. I almost had her within my reach… Just one more step. Suddenly I heard a twig snap beneath my left foot and so did she. She started looking around with her eyes blinded by those beautiful tears.
I quickly grabbed her in a rear naked choke hold and dragged her into the woods. She kicked and squirmed frantically before she passed out. I pulled out my blade and sliced her throat, severing her vocal cords. I spotted and grabbed some hanging vines and cut them down from a nearby tree and restrained her feet and hands.
Just as I began cutting her clothes from her body, I heard the familiar voice of her boyfriend, yelling, “Amanda!” I'd have to say that she heard him as well, because it was at this moment that her eyes opened. I looked down at her from my knees, stroking her hair as I straddled her.
She had a look of complete terror, and her eyes were filled with bewilderment and fear as tears began rolling down her face once more. I looked her in the eyes and smiled as I put my finger up to my mouth as if telling her to be silent. She was quite beautiful as the blood from her throat leaked down the front of her shirt and around her neck. The blood mixed in with her bleached hair, creating red highlights.
I grabbed her by the throat, leaned forward, and whispered in her ear… Don’t worry Amanda, it will all be over before you know it. Before I could finish the sentence, I had drawn my knife into the air above my head. With one singular stroke I penetrated her chest cavity, severing her aorta. I watched as each beat of her heart sent blood gushing out from the wound.
I wanted to savor the kill, so I left the knife in her chest for a moment while I stroked her hair.
Finally, she stopped breathing, and I pulled out my blade and tasted the still warm blood on the cold, stainless steel. I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back to my hideout.”
As Jacob finished the story, I could feel the goose bumps forming on my arms. I was again gripped by fear, no matter how many times I’d sat in this very room and listened to the gory details of Jacob's murders… Oddly, it was the thought of never hearing his stories direct from the horse’s mouth that scared me the most. In some eerie way, Jacob White had become my one and only friend…