Please help...
Posted: Wed Dec 12, 2007 12:50 am
…
Um… I think I need some help here.
…
Last night… my world… came… to a horrible… screeching halt.
It is now about 0030 or 12:30 in the morning, for you civilian types, and I am drained, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Today… has been my worst day ever.
Last night my wife was murdered. I… Um… It wasn’t pretty, either. Right now I’m not sure whether the cops still think I may have had something to do with it, or not. I do know that none of the doors or windows had been opened or broken in or out. Of course, given the rest of the story, that really means about jack.
What I do know, is that what occurred was not normal or rational by any stretch of the imagination. Also I know that this was not my imagination.
Here is what happened.
Last night my wife and I called it an early night, and actually went to bed together, for a change. A little after four in the morning, I was awoken by Leslie getting out of bed. Figuring she was going to the bathroom, I was about to roll over and go back to sleep. Then something about the way she was moving struck me as odd, she seemed… stiff, almost robotic. I tried to ask her if she was ok, this is when I found I was unable to move or speak. It wasn’t paralysis, because I still had the sensation of touch, yet I couldn’t control my muscles or utter a sound. No matter how hard I tried to struggle, or scream, nothing happened. Some force had me pinned completely. I watched her stagger out of the room and I could do nothing to stop her, I couldn’t even call to her. Somehow I knew I was not dreaming and I was completely awake.
A few minutes later, I heard her speaking…
At first she seemed confused,
"What… Why am I…? George?”
Then she seemed to be talking to someone,
“Who are you?”
“What do you want?”
In her usual style she started getting belligerent,
“Listen… I don’t know who you are but…”
And then I heard… something that… still… shakes me to my core.
“No… NO… GEORGE!!!”
“OH GOD NO, GOD PLEASE NO!!!”
And she screamed and screamed and screamed. All the time I was pinned to the bed, unable to move, unable to call out. I think I may have cried, but I am not sure now. Then everything went quiet, so quiet I thought I may have gone deaf. Luckily I seemed also prevented from retching. Else I may have drowned in my own vomit.
I am not sure how much time passed after the screaming stop, until the figure entered the room. Other than the voice, there was nothing to identify the person as male or female. He was cloaked by shadows, even when the weak lights in our room should have highlighted his features; there was nothing to see but shadows.
I then realized he had something in his hand. I feared it was the same knife he killed Leslie with, but then the screen on my MP3 player flashed into life, startling me. It was currently recording.
Suddenly he stated simply,
“Your wife didn't have to die.”
This man who had just murdered my wife spoke as if… he was… talking about the weather or something,
“Blame Caliburn... It was he who you visited showing his precious secret hand sign.”
As he said this he signed the letters ‘Z’ and ‘R’ at me.
“He brought this destruction upon your house. It was his fault. He...ensured this would happen when he had a hand in destroying me...”
“Tell your new friend that he's a monster, for arranging this to happen...”
“Find Gabriel, and tell him that this is as much his fault as Caliburn’s.”
“While you're at it, tell the angel that her brother's blood was sufficient and that James didn't die in vain...”
“Tell the one who calls himself the 'stalker of shadows' that his friend's death served a higher purpose...”
When he stopped speaking the room was silent. He made no sounds. I couldn’t hear his breath, and his clothing didn’t even rub together. Then he continued,
“To answer your question...no, I am not Konrad. The ruse he is currently pulling off is...interesting. Give him my congratulations... To first reveal himself so boldly, and then suddenly pretend as if he was being framed...but we both know that he's only acting that way now in order to make you all think he's your ally, and a victim. Clever boy...”
“Incidentally...had your wife not called out to a false god, I would have spared her a great deal of pain...” <I think he may have sighed here. I can’t tell from the recording.> “She brought it down on herself.”
“You will live today, so that you can carry my messages to the others. I have...recorded our little conversation, in case you forget anything... we know how, exacting you like to be… Good night, Mr. Franks...”
He then set my MP3 player down on the nightstand by my head and disappeared. He didn’t walk out of the room. It was, he’s there one instant and then not there the next. As soon as he vanished I was free and because of the strength of my struggling I was literally launched out of the bed and on to the floor. Suddenly it was like a valve was opened and I retched and cried for what seemed like forever.
When I regained a little of my composure I felt weak and drained. I suddenly realized that I needed to ensure that I had a copy of the WAV file, because once the police were involved, I would be lucky to see it again. So, headless of what was going on downstairs, I plugged my MP3 player in to my computer. I copied off the WAV file, compressed it and password protected in emailed it to my G-mail, yahoo, hotmail, and work accounts as well as a friend of mine.
As I was leaving the bedroom I heard sirens. I found out later that a neighbor had been disturbed by the screaming. Something told me to protect myself, so, I avoided the kitchen and went to the front door. I opened it and was sitting on the lintel when the police finally pulled up out front.
To make a long story shorter, I saw the damage that he had done. It… was… horrible, to put it bluntly. Leslie’s body was on the floor in the kitchen. She was sliced up everywhere except for her face which was locked in a mask of horror. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the cabinets, the ceiling, it was on everything. There was so much blood. I was allowed to get dressed and taken from the house as more police were showing up.
I couldn’t come up with any reasonable lie to tell them, so I told the truth. I of course was the lead suspect, but after being tested for blood, given a polygraph, and what was most likely a psychological evaluation, I was let go. I can’t leave the city of course, and I have no clue when I’ll bet let back in my house. You know, its funny, I don’t have a toothbrush, or a even a change of clothes.
I did overhear one of the cops pondering the fact that there were no footprints or fingerprints in the blood or anywhere else in the house. Apparently there was no indication of where the murder was when he killed her. It’s like he was a ghost or phantom or something.
I am a wreck. I keep wondering if it is my fault for bringing this on my house. I don’t know…
I am so tired, I am going to bed.
Droopy
Um… I think I need some help here.
…
Last night… my world… came… to a horrible… screeching halt.
It is now about 0030 or 12:30 in the morning, for you civilian types, and I am drained, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
Today… has been my worst day ever.
Last night my wife was murdered. I… Um… It wasn’t pretty, either. Right now I’m not sure whether the cops still think I may have had something to do with it, or not. I do know that none of the doors or windows had been opened or broken in or out. Of course, given the rest of the story, that really means about jack.
What I do know, is that what occurred was not normal or rational by any stretch of the imagination. Also I know that this was not my imagination.
Here is what happened.
Last night my wife and I called it an early night, and actually went to bed together, for a change. A little after four in the morning, I was awoken by Leslie getting out of bed. Figuring she was going to the bathroom, I was about to roll over and go back to sleep. Then something about the way she was moving struck me as odd, she seemed… stiff, almost robotic. I tried to ask her if she was ok, this is when I found I was unable to move or speak. It wasn’t paralysis, because I still had the sensation of touch, yet I couldn’t control my muscles or utter a sound. No matter how hard I tried to struggle, or scream, nothing happened. Some force had me pinned completely. I watched her stagger out of the room and I could do nothing to stop her, I couldn’t even call to her. Somehow I knew I was not dreaming and I was completely awake.
A few minutes later, I heard her speaking…
At first she seemed confused,
"What… Why am I…? George?”
Then she seemed to be talking to someone,
“Who are you?”
“What do you want?”
In her usual style she started getting belligerent,
“Listen… I don’t know who you are but…”
And then I heard… something that… still… shakes me to my core.
“No… NO… GEORGE!!!”
“OH GOD NO, GOD PLEASE NO!!!”
And she screamed and screamed and screamed. All the time I was pinned to the bed, unable to move, unable to call out. I think I may have cried, but I am not sure now. Then everything went quiet, so quiet I thought I may have gone deaf. Luckily I seemed also prevented from retching. Else I may have drowned in my own vomit.
I am not sure how much time passed after the screaming stop, until the figure entered the room. Other than the voice, there was nothing to identify the person as male or female. He was cloaked by shadows, even when the weak lights in our room should have highlighted his features; there was nothing to see but shadows.
I then realized he had something in his hand. I feared it was the same knife he killed Leslie with, but then the screen on my MP3 player flashed into life, startling me. It was currently recording.
Suddenly he stated simply,
“Your wife didn't have to die.”
This man who had just murdered my wife spoke as if… he was… talking about the weather or something,
“Blame Caliburn... It was he who you visited showing his precious secret hand sign.”
As he said this he signed the letters ‘Z’ and ‘R’ at me.
“He brought this destruction upon your house. It was his fault. He...ensured this would happen when he had a hand in destroying me...”
“Tell your new friend that he's a monster, for arranging this to happen...”
“Find Gabriel, and tell him that this is as much his fault as Caliburn’s.”
“While you're at it, tell the angel that her brother's blood was sufficient and that James didn't die in vain...”
“Tell the one who calls himself the 'stalker of shadows' that his friend's death served a higher purpose...”
When he stopped speaking the room was silent. He made no sounds. I couldn’t hear his breath, and his clothing didn’t even rub together. Then he continued,
“To answer your question...no, I am not Konrad. The ruse he is currently pulling off is...interesting. Give him my congratulations... To first reveal himself so boldly, and then suddenly pretend as if he was being framed...but we both know that he's only acting that way now in order to make you all think he's your ally, and a victim. Clever boy...”
“Incidentally...had your wife not called out to a false god, I would have spared her a great deal of pain...” <I think he may have sighed here. I can’t tell from the recording.> “She brought it down on herself.”
“You will live today, so that you can carry my messages to the others. I have...recorded our little conversation, in case you forget anything... we know how, exacting you like to be… Good night, Mr. Franks...”
He then set my MP3 player down on the nightstand by my head and disappeared. He didn’t walk out of the room. It was, he’s there one instant and then not there the next. As soon as he vanished I was free and because of the strength of my struggling I was literally launched out of the bed and on to the floor. Suddenly it was like a valve was opened and I retched and cried for what seemed like forever.
When I regained a little of my composure I felt weak and drained. I suddenly realized that I needed to ensure that I had a copy of the WAV file, because once the police were involved, I would be lucky to see it again. So, headless of what was going on downstairs, I plugged my MP3 player in to my computer. I copied off the WAV file, compressed it and password protected in emailed it to my G-mail, yahoo, hotmail, and work accounts as well as a friend of mine.
As I was leaving the bedroom I heard sirens. I found out later that a neighbor had been disturbed by the screaming. Something told me to protect myself, so, I avoided the kitchen and went to the front door. I opened it and was sitting on the lintel when the police finally pulled up out front.
To make a long story shorter, I saw the damage that he had done. It… was… horrible, to put it bluntly. Leslie’s body was on the floor in the kitchen. She was sliced up everywhere except for her face which was locked in a mask of horror. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the cabinets, the ceiling, it was on everything. There was so much blood. I was allowed to get dressed and taken from the house as more police were showing up.
I couldn’t come up with any reasonable lie to tell them, so I told the truth. I of course was the lead suspect, but after being tested for blood, given a polygraph, and what was most likely a psychological evaluation, I was let go. I can’t leave the city of course, and I have no clue when I’ll bet let back in my house. You know, its funny, I don’t have a toothbrush, or a even a change of clothes.
I did overhear one of the cops pondering the fact that there were no footprints or fingerprints in the blood or anywhere else in the house. Apparently there was no indication of where the murder was when he killed her. It’s like he was a ghost or phantom or something.
I am a wreck. I keep wondering if it is my fault for bringing this on my house. I don’t know…
I am so tired, I am going to bed.
Droopy
