boardwalk

may 3 2008

May 3 2008
Now that I think about it, I don’t think that there’s been a time where I haven’t seen him during takeoff. He’s usually standing somewhere on the tarmac, so very out of place. And there he was yet again. He was following me to Noah. As soon as I felt the wheels of the plane leave the runway, this latent panic attack that had been creeping up on me, festering inside me like an inflamed appendix burst open. Half of me was committed to helping Noah, and the other half was screaming to run down the fuselage, unlatch the door, and just jump. Too easy. I was at war with myself, questioning if I should even be on that plane to Florida at all the whole flight. There wasn’t much turbulence, but every jarring tremor I prayed that the plane would just fall out of the sky and decide my fate for me. I threw up twice. Stepping out of the taxi to see Noah’s front doors once again, I was still overwhelmed with indecision. I had all this time to think, but the ever accumulating mass of internal distress had turned me to procrastination. I was just about to enter his damn house and I didn’t have a solid plan of action. Behind me, I felt that all too familiar sour sensation, like reality itself was rippling from a metaphysical stone toss nearby. He was already here. I took a deep breath, rang the doorbell, and opted to play things by ear. I felt that maybe hanging with my cousin like we used to in the good old days might clear my head. Should have known better at this point. Seeing Noah again was both a wonderful and gut wrenching experience, especially since he was so happy to see me. He pulled out a newly bought video camera and it felt like he had just drawn a gun at me. Could he have been seeing him already? No way I was going to interrogate him right then and there. Something instantly felt off as soon as I step foot inside this house. It was

may 3 2008

exactly like that funny feeling you get in the back of your throat right before you get sick, that same foreboding feeling. But it was walking down the hallway when I realized that I felt Mr. Slim within his house, like right beyond the walls. I tried my damndest to act like a normal human being, but knowing that he was only meters away from us had me drowning in anxiety. I’m convinced he was at least a room away from us the entire day. I already can’t wait to leave. I got settled in and we played some Paper Mario and watched Aladdin like when we were children, an eternity ago now. My thoughts were still as conflicted as ever. The Ouija board told me to show him, I’m assuming it was referring to Mr. Slim, but who knows who the hell this Firebrand spirit is? Just because he knew my favorite song doesn’t mean I should trust him. I kept trying to formulate some kind of strategy to segue our conversation into what I had traveled across the country to relay, but I was really at a loss. At least Noah’s presence managed to calm me enough to be able to enjoy myself, despite my mind being helplessly stuck in a death spiral of thought loops and the fact that a goddamn reality monster was observing us through the walls like rats in a maze. Noah had mentioned wanting to show me that park near his home since construction on that boardwalk had been completed last year. As much as I was frightened from all those visions of that damn Victor Park place, I had this morbid curiosity to visit it. If the powers that be have been showing it to me for a reason, might as well find out why. And when I saw the bastard himself peek out from the doorway at us, I was more than happy to leave that fucking house for a while. Noah let me fiddle with his camera

may 3 2008

as he drove, it was way nicer than mine was. Then an idea hit me. Since Slim is uncomfortably close now that we’re hanging out, if I’m able to catch him on camera and then show Noah… maybe I can wake him up again? Worth a shot. Plus, then I’ll have footage to show Garner. Two birds with one stone. And, since he hates having his picture taken, if anything I can shoo that fucker away, if only temporarily. It’s a win win. After lunch we stopped at the boardwalk and walked into the path between the walls of trees. As beautiful as it was, it was deeply unsettling walking around a place that haunted my nightmares years before it was even erected. Every step inward was accented with a hint of deja vu, and as we trekked further down the pathway, I was dismayed to realize that the place had the same exact threatening aura that Noah’s house had. The whole time I had this feeling of being followed, though no one was ever behind us. I felt it particularly strongly at the top of the boardwalk tower, and when I spotted his lanky silhouette poke out from amongst the trees and move toward us, the very same vision from one of my childhood dreams, I panicked and ran down. When I got a hold of myself, I tried to brush it off by recounting some classic anecdotes from years past. Reaching the end of the boardwalk, it felt so oddly quiet. There were some other people fishing at the pier, so I figured that maybe Slim retreated for now. But it was far too placid. Something wasn’t right. Sure enough, as we were walking back to the parking lot, the hair on the back of my neck shot up as I felt his presence return… but this time it felt like a tidal wave approaching from behind us, and fast. I lost my cool again and booked it back to the car. The sensation subsided

may 3 2008

once I reached the parking lot, but I collapsed to my knees in terror, completely consumed by just how much I felt affected by it. I only experienced that degree of impending doom once before, but it was from the safety of one of those boardwalk dreams. In real life, it proved to be so much more alarming. It felt that if we didn’t leave there at that exact moment, the trees themselves would come to life and spring downward, shutting on us like a snare trap… which is exactly what happened to me in the dream. I still have no idea why that damn place has any significance or why it has been so incessantly advertised to me in my sleep like a goddamn timeshare from hell, but there’s no doubt that there’s some kind of potent energy that envelopes it. The trip back home was awkward and silent. I had really confused Noah at this point, and I was in no shape to even begin to lie to him coherently about why I had spazzed out and ran off on him multiple times, so I saved face and kept up the act of aloofly pretending that everything was fine. But it really wasn’t. I kicked myself for not just taking the camera from Noah and filming Mr. Slim when I saw him. I won’t let that opportunity pass by again. I may have other chances to snag his image while I’m still here, in fact, I’m counting on it. As I write this entry, I can see him in my mind’s eye. He’s scoping us out like packages of meat at the butcher counter. But I’m scoping him right back. He’s not escaping the viewfinder this time.

*all of milo’s actions make complete sense now given the context of what he was experiencing, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept now that he’s gone.

summoning

april 26 2008

April 26 2008
One of the existential quandaries that has troubled me all my life is the uncertainty involving what happens to the self after death. Is there a next level of reality waiting for us, or does the mind just cease to be after falling into the void of eternal sleep? I’m not sure what to believe. Belief in general has been a fickle thing for me, something I continue to struggle with rationalizing to this day. Sometimes I wish I was carefree like Oscar, oblivious to the terrors of the world and perfectly content in his old age watching birds from the windowsill, his only worry being if feeding time is late. I’m certainly not a religious person, not because I’ve stopped attending a place of worship but because the tangible confirmations that the scientific method provides have always made more sense to me than unverifiable hearsay from sacred texts, and thus has been more mentally comforting. However, given all of the first hand paranormal experiences and direct contact with supernatural beings that I’ve had throughout my life, I can definitely say that I’m not an atheist. I used to think I was agnostic, but I’m not sure I can call myself that anymore since I have personal evidence of their handiwork and I can’t claim that their existence is entirely unknowable. But what does an agnostic call themselves when forced to acknowledge occurrences that transcend all reasonable logic? Uncertain? I guess the only thing I do truly believe in is the certainty of uncertainty itself. There will always be some level of uncertainty to all things and I’ve come to embrace it, because the quest for certainty requires

april 26 2008

tolerating this uncertainty. Not knowing is more terrifying than knowing, and to be comfortable with this notion is the only way to obtain knowledge in the face of a terrifying enigma. So, since the beginning of last year I’ve fought my fears by doing research on spirit boards and their proper use. Kevin and I didn’t use the board safely, and if I wanted to try again I didn’t want to make the same mistakes. We didn’t meditate beforehand, draw a salt circle, or use any protective measures. I think I’m a medium because I have a higher awareness to inexplicable phenomena, so I feel that I already have a better likelihood of making contact with transcendent entities. But this time I’m on my own. The last thing I want is to involve, or infect, anyone else. I felt like I had done an apt amount of research and planned for today to perform a proper summoning. Since Mom and John had planned to go out to some local concert in the evening, tonight was an ideal time to try it all again. I meditated in my room all day until they left and once they did I set up my room for incantation. Because I couldn’t find any real Ouija boards, I made my own homemade spirit board out of a pizza box and a shot glass. I lit some candles and sage incense, turned off the lights, and poured a circle of salt around the board and I. Flipping the board over, I drew the intersecting eye of protection, repeating the mantra, “protection against maleficent beings”. I cleared my mind and introduced myself to the board as a humble mortal with an affliction requesting connection with the

april 26 2008

spirit world for assistance. After a moment, I touched the glass and asked if anyone was out there. No response. After a few tries when I was about to try more meditation, the hair on my neck stood up. I felt a presence enter. The candles flickered and dimmed. I asked again if anyone was out there. I couldn’t tell if it was me or the glass itself, but it began to move and stopped on YES. I collected myself and asked who has joined me and the glass spelled out answers. FIREBRAND. What are you? ROGUEGOD. Are you friend or foe? The glass didn’t budge at first, but then spelled out SHADOW and slid upward, stopping between YES and NO. Ominous. I was speaking to a shadow person. My hands were trembling as I asked what the shadow people are. CURSEDSOULS. I asked why. SEVEREDFLESH. I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but I decided to keep going and ask more clear questions. Is Noah in danger? YES. If I am the current target, what is Noah? NEXT. Should I tell Noah? SHOWHIM. What happened to Kevin? COLLECTED. Why is he taking pictures of me? SPYING. For who? ARCHVASSAL. Why are they doing this to me? ENDSESSION. I wasn’t sure if this was an answer or a request to end the correspondence, so I asked if they wanted to end the conversation. NO. May I ask you more questions? YES. I was shocked at not only how well this was working, but how eager this being was to answer my questions. I wanted to try something a bit more dangerous. Since

april 26 2008

asking about Mr. Slim caused him to appear, I asked if it’s safe to ask about the big man. SAFEFORNOW. What is he? ADMINISTRATOR. What does he administrate? SESSION. What is the session? CURSE. How do I lift the curse? SACRIFICE. Sacrifice what? EVERYTHING. These answers were getting a bit heavy, so I went on a limb and asked something more challenging. How do you know all this? IKNOWALL. Can you prove it? ASKSPECIFIC. I thought for a moment and asked something only I knew. What’s my favorite song? BLACKESTEYES. I was stunned. I’ve never told ANYONE that Blackest Eyes by Porcupine Tree is my favorite song, but somehow this nebulous manifestation knew. At this point, the burning questions that I really wanted to know the answers to bubbled to the surface. Did Robert die in the fire? I started crying before the glass stopped at NO under my shaky fingers. I asked where my father is now. ORDER. What caused the fire? ARSON. I held my breath. Who set the fire? MARY. I screamed in anger. Why? SELFISH. Did she burn down Noah’s house too? YES. Screamed again. Why? TWISTEDMERCY. I felt nothing but white hot rage. Did she blow up the boat in 1995? ACCOMPLICE. What can I do to stop her? SAFE. Is there another key to open it? The board went silent. I asked again. Nothing. Then, it moved. SHECOMES. I heard the front door open. They were home early. Shit. I slid the Ouija pizza box under my bed, blew out the candles, and threw some clothes from the hamper on the floor

april 26 2008

to cover up the salt. Mom barged in and said that the concert was bad so they left and brought back Burger King, which fucking sucks because I’ve been completely turned off to Burger King since that awful lingering stench traumatized my nostrils in the car back when we went to Karl’s place. She complained about the smell from the incense and candles but was none the wiser of my seance. I kept my cool as best I could staring into the glassy eyes of the woman I call Mom, but with every fiber of my being I wanted to jump up from the floor and beat the fucking shit out of her. This witch of a woman destroyed our family. She burned down our homes. She’s an accomplice behind the boat incident, meaning she’s somehow responsible for the deaths of Tommy Henderson and Sonia Maxwell. She’s the reason why Dad isn’t here... but he’s still alive somewhere, something to do with “ORDER”. I need to get in that motherfucking safe, I know in my heart that there must be something dirty as shit in there that will incriminate her. But first, Noah. I have to tell him what’s just beyond the horizon. I have to prepare him for the storm. I have to show him the beast. One more week. I keep hearing whispers.