zaccomstockhuman-blog

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

statement

My name is Zac Comstock. My writing began when I was a little kid and I sometimes wrote little tiny stories about stuff like farting cats and dogs, or someone called “future guy”. I only really started to write non-academic stuff more in the beginning of 2017, when I was enrolled in a creative writing class. Most of my inspiration for what I write has come from my own life, movies, TV, and books that I read. I like to write because I like to draw and I like to make music. My writing will be used for that in the future: i want to write some songs and make graphic novels. My hope is that as I practice writing I can get good enough at those things to create my own quality content that people will like to listen to/ read.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

“life’s a bitch and then you die, thats why we get high, cause you never know when your’e gonna go ” 

-Nas 

I like this quote because: 1. it’s from a great song, and 2. I like that it acknowledges that life sucks but you gotta make the best of it while your’e still alive.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

childhood memories

I remember vaguely my daily routines at preschool. My favorite place to play was the sandbox, where I would sink my hands into the sand. It was possible there to play without saying a word, and I liked that. The sand pit eventually got to be less fresh, whereas the sand was only half a foot deep before it became dirt. There was a blue metal tube - meant to serve as a tunnel, near the side door of the preschool. All of the kids would try to climb it- anyone who succeeded was a very impressive person. When I wasn’t in my sandbox phase, I also had a blue tunnel climbing phase. It was a very difficult object to climb. Made of slick metal with no handholds, and only about an inch shorter than myself, this playground objec was definitely going to be a challenge. I remember straining with all my might as a taller kid sat on top waiting for me. I tried to grip the seam where it had been bolted or welded together, but still slipped. I tried again, this time getting a jumping start, and I was finally able to get on top.

I remember when life was simple. In those earlier days when things had the likeness of a blur, because my memory doesn’t serve me well. I guess over time you forget the old days to make room for new memories. But things were easy, the problems that concerned us were small, like protesting Ki-Aikido class on a saturday. It would be nice to go back to those days. Back then no one worried any longer than their own attention span. Now we all deal with problems for a lifetime, like giving up on dreams, chasing them. So many people in my generation have to deal with chronic anxiety induced by this new world we live in.

I remember a mountain as tall as half the sky and the trees and the river floating by. The water is ice but the fish swim nice. Just my dad and I sitting by the riverside. I was trying to fix a net to the side of the water so that maybe i could catch something swimming downstream. Of course it didn’t work, but that also wasn’t a problem. We ate the dinner we packed with us. Nature and a short book was enough for me.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

incrementally shorter versions of the same story

When I was seven years old I found a magic conch shell that could tell the future and ward off evil spirits. It was wedged between two rough beachside rocks at the base of the jetty. I almost slipped and fell on the sharp underwater rocks, but James was there to help me steady myself. My friends and I marveled at its design and completeness: it looked like a sculpture or something out of a painting. Only a really good artist could make something as pretty as that. The pink and purple lines decorating its sides were brighter than those on any other shell we had seen before. The open side of the shell beckoned my ear to have a listen. I thought I would hear the ocean, but boy was I wrong. Inside the shell were a bunch of tiny voices, as if humans had been shrunk and trapped inside the shell. They told me about 9/11. That was when I knew they could tell the future, but my friends didn’t believe me. They said that they couldn’t hear anything except the ocean.

When I was 7 I found a magic conch shell. It could tell the future and ward off evil spirits. My friends and I found it in the rocks at the beach, and we agreed that it was probably the most beautiful shell in the world. The colors and shape of it were perfect and unweathered. Unexplainably, when I put my ear to it, instead of hearing the ocean, there were voices. The voices started accurately predicting things like 9/11. My friends told me they couldn’t hear anything, but I knew in my heart it was real.

There was a magical shell on the beach that I found, in all its glorious beauty, one sunny day. My friends thought it was cool, but they didn’t hear any of the voices. There were little people trapped inside for sure. I have carried it constantly with me since then, in my pockets or backpack.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

some dialogue

Jackson hated ethan.

“I was gonna say something like “did you not listen,” he said, “but that wouldn’t be mean enough.” .

“You don’t deserve to feel okay about yourself”

My gut instinct was to punch jackson in the face, but I knew that would only get me in trouble, and I would take all the punisment.

Ethan just mumbled, “little bitch” and tried to go back to browsing twitter.

“ I’m the bitch?! “

They were silent until the next day at school. They barged in together, yelling about some confusing shit.

“I didn’t want it to happen like that.” ethan said. “Then you started telling evereyone I was some sort of psychopath. Do you even know what that did to me? My life is shit!” He was starting to tear up: “ People have been yelling things at me. Monster, killer, life-of-the-party. They even spread rumors that I had raped my sister in the 7th grade.”

Jackson replied: “ I just told people the truth. You're an asshole who tried to kill my friend.”

“shut the fuck up”

“ you're lucky to be alive. I could go to the police right now. “ Jackson said.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

Character Sketch

James

The man emerged from his small, brick apartment building.  He gathered his earings, feeling around as his eyes adjusted to the dark. When they were fully adjusted, He could make out the road, the buildings, the houses, and no one else was outside.

He felt in the left pocket of his tattered jacket, and pulled out a flashlight. It was the third only light in the darkness: The moon, his flashlight, and a candle lit in the window across the street. His mornings  always started the same way: he would walk around the safe zone, patrolling it for people that weren’t supposed to be there.  Of course, he never saw anyone, he probably didn’t have to do this. He picked dirt out of his beard from the day before. Running through the wreckage of the world every day left him worn and dusty, too often to ever get clean. It just didn’t make any sense for him to wash off: they were low on water and the sweat and dirt would cake his body again within a day anyways. The man didn’t want to go back to sleep, but it was hard to pass the time. Especially with hunger pains tearing his stomach up. He noticed that he could feel his ribs through his jacket. It was a familiar feeling, the little bumps of his chest.

“We’ll need to start growin’ some food soon” he thought to himself.

But like always, he focused on what would come the next day. They would have to go farther out in search of supplies. He’d probably get some new scars from that. He passed by alice’s house . Everything looked normal, the lights were out. Alice liked to call him jayme for some reason, but His real name was James. Still he liked having a nickname. The world really wasn’t all bad. They had something meaningful in their community, and he knew that there was hope for the future.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

The Accident

I wish I hadn’t told macy what to do. We were just kids, trying to get a good life for ourselves. On days when when we didn’t have much to talk about we sometimes talked about our future. I had got the idea in my head that it was the perfect job. It didn’t require ten years of college like becoming a doctor would.

“I’ll give people shots for the flu. It’s a good job.”

“Yeah I think it’s a good ide-”

“I don’t do cutting into people. I can do anything else, not people.”

“..Where do you think we could work?”

“You can be a nurse anywhere. It’s easy. “

After high school I started working as a nurse and my best friend became a paramedic.

I wish I hadn’t become a nurse, but the money was important. Everyone needs money.  

Scalding hot protected in a layer of cuneiform golden ooze. burned black, brown, and red skin, the honey-mask that was not really protecting. It stuck to the skin like glue, forcing agonizing pain until we could pry or cut or wash it off.

I think the devil lives there in the honey, you can see him if you look close enough. The devil lives there but it is lifted up on the shoulders of the father of the son of the cousin of the holy ghost, well I don’t know the basics of religion. You can really see him, I can see something in the stuff, something with a soul.

A troupe of Apologists came in yesterday. You could tell which side they were on.

Burning the thin glaze through, burning the chests of the innocent, sinful creatures. They used to move freely along the banks of rivers or roads, like rabbits.

It still tastes sweet so they don’t stop. Even when their mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends say to them: “don’t let it in”, they take more in, everyone crying their fucking faces off.

~~~

A Golden light filled ball in the sky- it’s not the sun, it’s moving across the night sky at eight o clock. What could it be? Was it some sort of new weapon invented by the soviets? It was probably a dream, right? My wife woke up, tugged at my sleeve. She asked, “honey, what’s going on?”. I told her I didn’t know, but we needed to get to the basement fast. We were in the stairway next to a window when I saw the ball of light again, this time it was just about to hit the ground a block away. I thought I saw something in it. I imagined the souls of the dead collected in it. When it hit the ground they went out flying. Gravel, pavement, and dirt was shooting everywhere, then our neighbor’s house destroyed and splinters coming our way, hitting her face. She was dead. There were people watching on the street before, but now everyone was gone. Were they all dead as well? No, I saw survivors in the corner of my eye. A crowd of people walking the same direction. They were moving toward a stunning, beautiful light emanating from the impact crater. Immediately, I wanted to have a look for myself. The light was a perfect color, looking like heaven’s gates had opened up right there  in the ground. I didn’t notice the screams coming from people who had walked into the mess. That beautiful light drew me in. I didn’t notice the stuff seeping into my skin and coating half of my face and arms.

A hand grabbed my shoulder- I turned around and there was a woman who looked like she must be a paramedic. I noticed two ambulances were pulled up to the scene. How long had I been there? It would have taken atleast 20 minutes for them to get here from the hospital. The paramedic directed me into an ambulance and I sat down. The pain started. It got so bad that I collapsed and lay writhing on the floor of the ambulance.  There were about five or 6 paramedics running around the neighborhood, trying to stop people from touching that glowing stuff. No one listened to them until they started yelling or grabbing. Soon the Ambulances and a truck they borrowed from jeff were full. We sped away toward the hospital.

I spent 12 days in the hospital healing. I don’t remember much of the first four days. I was in and out of reality, passing out every time I woke up. In one weird coma dream I was back in my house, except this time I knew what was going to happen. I couldn’t move. I tried to jump in front of the piece of wood flying towards Helena. But I couldn’t. In the next dream the same thing was happening except I was licking up a bunch of that golden glowing stuff from my arms. It tasted like maple syrup infused with drugs. I woke up every once in awhile for around 2 seconds at a time, just long enough to stare at the ceiling or catch a glimpse of someone near me. The dreams kept coming, It felt like an eternity. On the third day i woke up for longer than normal, probably a full minute, long enough to talk to someone. There was a nurse there taking care of me who was very gracious and kind. Although my first impression of her was fine, the next time I woke up was different. On the fourth day of my stay at the hospital i woke up while I was being moved to make space for another person to share my room. I got a chance to have a conversation with the nurse and get a good look at her. She was a fast talker and didn’t seem to care very much about what I was saying. It got a little annoying, but being in the hospital, I was grateful to be alive and healing. I wondered why they had to move someone into my room.. It wasn’t a very big room, and the hospital would usually be half empty in a town like this. Before I could come to any conclusions or ask the nurse, I fell asleep. Over the next few days, I was awake much more often, now taking naps rather than taking “wakes”. My arms and face still hurt like hell, but the doctor told me that they were able to remove the substance from my body, so I shouldn’t have any problems with it. I tried to ask the doctor what had happened, but he didn’t reply. The nurse told me to focus on resting and healing, then set a tray of hospital food on my bedside stand. Right as she was leaving I realized who she was. I exclaimed: “hey, weren’t you a paramedic before? I remember you saved me that night , I was walking toward the light.” Her expression changed completely. She went from a fake cheery but really annoyed look to a very sincere somber expression. “ I’m not really a paramedic. “ she said. “I fill in for the paramedics now.. Most of the originals died… or are injured too badly to work.” . The room fell silent, she stood there, looking completely empty. I felt like asking another question would be pushing her too far, but this one was really urgent: “what was it that killed all those people?”.

~~~

Worki Torki the muthafucking greatest. She was an engineer and scientist known throughout the gladdasphere for her accomplishments in biological energy. Torki’s research and development could probably be considered the most influential scientific work of the past 100 years. However, Torki fell into disrepute last year when she mistakenly released a dangerous experiment she was working on for the Hukdistani government. Using the “souls” of human brains, she was able to create a completely autonomous AI, capable of accomplishing feats no species could do alone. The discovery had huge implications: the ability to use human consciousness to power machines would increase our technological ability tenfold. Her research was about halfway through, and after 5 years of work, she had been able to create a containment method for souls, involving a highly volatile palladium-infused 0.0001 degrees kelvin liquid. This liquid would later be the cause of one of the most deadly incidents in the history of the gladdasphere.

On may 5th, 2018, about 210,000 humans died after the soul AI, energy source, goo, whatever you want to call it, was accidentally released. A carbon compression chamber in the north side of Torki-sana research station was beginning to overheat at 2:00, PM. According to eyewitnesses, the foreman on that deck was enjoying a late lunch with his superior when the chamber popped, at 2:14 PM. Workers were unable to seal the gap or turn off the valve in time to save the machinery, and soon conditions were too hazardous for anyone to go inside the room. Meanwhile, the main soulcantene in the central compartment of the research station was beginning to fail. The loss of carbon supply to the central board was causing extra strain on the other compression chambers, and soon all of the carbon compression chambers had been overworked to the point of destruction. When the carbon supply was diminished too much, the entire facility broke down, and the ectoplasm inside was released in an explosion. It travelled in space along black matter currents for two days. Our military failed to deploy interception ships fast enough, and it struck earth. Initial casualties numbered in the thousands, but the real killer was the golden soul ooze. It began to be sold by criminals as a new drug - very potent and addictive. Users had a 90% chance of death, but the confusion and misinformation caused by the earth people made it so that far too many humans ingested the substance without knowing it’s effects. Ingestion would cause severe chest pain and internal bleeding, followed by an intense desire to take more, followed by an increased effect, until death.

Many sources have speculated about the causes of the accident. Some theorize that the government orchestrated it all to further their own anti-science agenda. Although this argument can be appealing, I have to be realistic. All of the evidence supporting it is far too weak and circumstantial to be considered. I agree with people who say that we should not have invaded the Hukdistan sector, but It is very unlikely that the accident was created to incite the Hukdistan war.

Worki Torki  survived the disaster and returned to the Hukdistan home planet. She was given asylum there, and protection from the Federation. She was captured on may 24th, 2019, a full year after the incident. Today she is being held in federal prison while a trial goes on to determine her fate.

Federation officials are working on creating a plan to help earth humans without alerting them to our presence.

One thing is for certain: we have learned a lot from the accident. Today, work with supernatural forces like the souls of the dead is forbidden in all federation provinces, and more detailed regulations have been placed on deep space scientific research stations.

~~~

“It was the devil” She said. “It took Macy, and it took brian, and it took so many damm people.” “ I saw him, I keep seeing him, It was the devil.”

“Lol ok” I replied.

I told her not to give me orange jell-O anymore.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

Poem

Fog hangs in the air

The windows are glazed with it

Everyone is cold,

But they aren’t sad about it.

It’s funny what they draw on

The fog on the windows

A crude simple symbol,

That makes me laugh despite its simplicity

The ride is bumpy

It’s an old bus

I like that it brings us together 

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

(satire)

Life Advice from a Successful Person

People often ask me “ hey Tai, how did you get so successful and happy in life?” And for a while, I was stumped. I just couldn’t think of a really good, accurate thing to tell them. So, last year, I took a few weeks off work to come up with the solution. I looked through myself and my many accomplishments, and came up with an easy method to create a beautiful, successful life for yourself.

The first thing I found was that all of the successful people I know have a perfect mindset. Having the right mindset at all times is key to being able to succeed in the modern world. You must be happy and excited. You must feel comfortable working at least 12 hours a day. You must be constantly social while focusing on your work. That is why I have designed  at my company a perfect work environment, with ping pong tables, video games, basketball courts, and giant piles of legos in each workroom. I also removed all conventional chairs, replacing them with exercise balls and beanbags. If you are not energetic, happy, social, and hard working at all times, I will not provide you with any solution, and I will expect you to change your behaviour on command. I am always pleased to see when one person asks the other: “ are you depressed? Hey, why don’t you get up, be happy! Why can’t you just be a fun person? “, and they both walk into the sunset together in cheery ecstasy.

The second thing I found was that all successful people have connections. This one is pretty straight forward - become friends with rich and influential people. This should be pretty easy, just ask your parents to meet some of their friends or something.

The third thing which you must absolutely know is that everyone can be successful. If you feel like you aren’t very talented, or smart, or hardworking, do not fear. I have recently created an inspirational video: my favorite part is where the guy says, “Just Do It! ™” . The message is clear - buy some nike clothes/shoes, but more importantly: your success is in your own hands: if you make the decision to be successful, if you decide to do it, it will happen. No preparation needed. Practice is for those other people who are stupid and unsuccessful. Pure willpower will push you through. And don’t worry, even if your willpower starts failing just remember; everyone else was able to be successful, you are a loser who will never amount to nothin’ ..

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

piece 1

Out the back door. The wind rattled the window, occasionally taking it to the brink of shattering. The view of the city from here made it look like everything was ok out there, like we could get together and have a picnic on the front lawn. We would lay out the white-grey sheet from my bed and eat from plastics of grapes and cheese. We could sit there, mostly quiet, me drawing some broken legs and you doing whatever you do.  But things weren’t hardly ever that good since they changed that day, more the next, and the next. Cycling through emotions like the spokes on a bike wheel.

I noticed how everything had changed permanently now. I had held on to hope fur months, even after you gave up. Now that you were walking down the alley, turning the corner, every inch of me gave up. Why had I believed in anything before? Without you, I ran out of plasma, I ran out of will. 

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

piece 2

Reduced to a jittering heap of flesh, the small man grasped for air, choking on his own blood.

Rayquan stood over the body and remarked to the near-dead corpse: “ I don’t know why you’re trying to breathe, I mean, no one’s going to help you. Look around. You're gonna die here. “

The man attempted some sort of scream or insult.

“Shut up” , Rayquan said. He bashed his skull in with a brick to finish the job.

“Let’s go”, he said. “It’s getting lighter”

A small group of people, silhouettes on the horizon, walked back home early in the morning. They all seemed somber, silent the whole way. It’s hard to have a friendly conversation after killing someone.

The group arrived at an old run-down farmhouse just outside of town. It sat on the side of the county highway and from the road looked almost unoccupied. It was a simple home, two stories tall, at least a hundred years old, just a white square with windows. The paint was chipping off and there were three broken down playsets thrown haphazardly next to each other in the side-yard. A man was asleep in a rocking chair behind the house with a radio and a beer bottle next to him sitting on a crate. From the way he looked, anyone would be wary of going near his house, possibly waking him up.

They approached the house and knocked on the door. No answer. A little annoyed, one of the group walked around to the backside and found the old man. He woke with a jolt.

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah we did it it, you got the money?”

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

piece 3

I spend life waiting to produce energy in the stomachs of humans, gestating, fermenting to perfection. The other foods are useless, they won’t be so good as me. 

Produce, cycles through the fridge, used up like trash.

A packet of cheeze stayed for four days.

I have a higher purpose.

Humans recognize my greatness. Too expensive, fancy, to be used for any old meal. 

Humans saving me for a special occasion.

The yogurt cup was thrown away

it cried all night, after learning it wasn’t good quality, it was disgusting. When it had mistaken itself for a fine wine aging for the right occasion, it had grown moldy and inedible. 

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

Flash Fiction

Every week, she walked down the same block togged her groceries at the wedge co-op. The tree-lines streets of her city were comforting now, she felt more at home there every time she walked.

Then one day when she needed some potatoes a jet plane roared overhead, and a few seconds later, another. And when a third jet flew by, a barrel shaped object fell out. There was barely enough time to process what was happening. Soon the air was filled with fire, then dust and rubble. The world was jumbled up, windows on the ground and floors uprooted onto walls. A big brick wall pummeled her almost instantly, and now she lay there covered in it. There was no light and the pressure too intense. 30 minutes after the Chinese planes tarting bombing U.S cities, then 30 minutes after U.S planes started bombing my hometown, I stopped hearing the low reverberations of barrel bombs and missiles. I peeked out my basement window, as the dust settled, there was a pile of rocks and wood and dirt across the street.

I couldn't believe what was happening, but I had to. I knew in order to survive I needed to be firmly set in reality. i waited a few minutes. Heard nothing. There was a foot sticking out from under a pile of bricks. It twitched. It took all the strength of my being to overcome the fear of what might happen or what I might see. The street was quiet for a few minutes, but it began to get louder, with babies and mothers crying on the street, people grieving over dead bodies. 

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

A poem i slammed

Someone like me can’t talk shit

See me in a crowd and i’m quiet

But don’t be confused i’m not silent

I just don’t wanna see nobody Crying, or lying

I’d rather talk about something more positive

Do you really think i know about appositives

Grammar ain't my strong suit but I’ll tell you what I can do

Is rap? Naw that’s probably not really true.

Get up on my level

Braggadocios like biggie and the “devil”

You know, it’s agent orange is in trouble

If he ever come near i’ll show him how I’m capable

To Send him to the morgue on the daily double

Say whatcha say i’m a bad man

Da ha ha ha i'm just the gingerbread man

Run around catch me if you can

i got a dell so i was never playing kick the can

This is how I chill from 16’ until, Afghanistan

Bush could never draft me i’d run away and kick my plans

I heard Canada’s nice this time of year can you take me to the land.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

I Found a Bunch of Money in my Neighbor’s Living Room

There was a quiet thumping coming from the apartment above me. I woke up and the sound stopped, but I heard an argument, no distinguishing noises to give a hint to what might be going on. It was annoying, but none of my business, so I did my best to go back to sleep. When it was quieter I managed to doze off. My sleep lasted only a few minutes, because there was soon more noise, this time louder. It sounded like furniture was falling over and hitting the floor. One of the people upstairs started groaning and the other was kept yelling something. I heard the word money come up a lot. There was a big crashing sound, then quiet, then footsteps through the house, down the stairs, and past my window to the building’s porch.

I went to call the police of course, but right as I had gotten out my phone I heard sirens coming in my direction. Several policemen and an ambulance arrived on the street outside and the police rushed upstairs. Watching out my window, I could see they had a lot of protective gear on like bulletproof vests and helmets. They were also carrying shotguns with flashlights attached, that occasionally shined through my window. I guess they didn’t know the perp had already left the house. After a lot of quieter commotion in the crime scene, a police officer knocked on my door. Opening your front door for the police is one of those things you never want to have to do. With the way I saw police, it was scary to open the only barrier between me and them. I opened the door. The police officer looked a little sleep deprived. She asked me to give my account of what had happened, so I told her about the noises I heard and when I heard them. Fighting around midnight and 12:30. The man who walked past my window was around 6 feet tall, the same height as me, and it was too dark to see what he looked like. She thanked me for my time and left.

I had known the guy upstairs pretty well. He was a weird guy, writing comics about random, strange, creepy stuff, and cooking mexican food to make his living. This guy - colin was his name - was on the surface a normal guy , but it was his personality and drug use that made him appear so interesting. My roommate and I met him for the first time when he came over to ask us if we were cool with him having a party. We live in an old house that has been sectioned off between first and 2nd floors to make two rentable apartments. We decided just to go to his party and have a fun time rather than tell him to keep it quiet or something like that. The weird college art major people crowd was the type of people to show up. I liked mixing with those type of people, although some of them were overloaded with their philosophy, art, edginess. So anyways, by the time it was morning the police were gone and I still had to go to work. My closet was full of stuff to wear. There were clothes. And a shirt. I liked that shirt. Well dang, might as well wear it to work. But there was my shiny white uniform.

The room where the front door of my apartment and the front door of colin’s apartment both intersect was cold, damp and a little foreboding. The door was open to the hallway and a strong winter wind blew itself into the room. Dang, that was cold. I had to turn my head away, and I when I did so I noticed: Colin’s apartment was wide open. There couldn’t be anyone in there - he was in the hospital, and he didn’t have a roommate. I started getting really curious about it. What did it look like in there? Did people clean up the mess? It felt like the wrong thing to do, but still, the curiosity got to me. THe next thing I knew I was walking straight through his house. It looked like some of the furniture had been removed, probably after getting broken. I was about to leave again,  when I noticed something hiding in the air vent across the living room. The grate was hiding it, but I saw something was in there. I stepped closer to the vent and squinted my eyes right up on the grate. It looked like stacks of money. The vent was screwed on with only two halfway in screws. I removed them, and took off the cover. Inside was probably 12 or 13 stacks of money, filling up half the space. Probably left some space for air to keep travelling through. Was this the money the guy had been yelling about?  It was hard to believe he hadn’t found it. Probably one of the worst decisions of my life came in the next 30 seconds. I thought it would be a good idea to take this money, maybe just to count it and see how much my neighbor had. It was $200,000. And there was a note hidden in between two hundred dollar bills. The note was on a crumpled and dirty sticky-note. It read: 45-23-16 . 907 Boulevard ave.

My mind went off thinking about what could be hidden at 907 Boulevard ave. There could be more money there , maybe a stash of drugs. I still had to go to work though, but maybe I would look at the place tommorow.

The corner of boulevard and rosemary st. contains an old run down structure of unknown origin or function. It looks like a gazebo combined with a bank. There is a bland two-story tall windowless block attached to it. I walked down the boulevard until I reached the corner. It was the same address. It confused me that the note would point here, where there wasn’t any place to put a combination lock on. It was a really sketchy area, at the bottom of the hill where the buildings were all run down and most of the stores were closed down, except for gas stations, pharmacies, and liquor stores. I was wary of walking through the place, but I really didn’t have much to do, and I consider myself a brave person. I started exploring the little building. I guessed that it really was a bank at one point, but that most of it was torn down. There was a small, singular safe right there on the ground in the old doorway. It was locked with one of those cheap locks you might see at a gym. I tried the combination. It worked. I carefully lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a bunch of my little pony fanart about some stuff that I would rather not share with anyone. Why this would be locked away in a box in the middle of an abandoned building I do not know.

The curiosity of my neighbor colin was, to say the least, racking my brain for weeks. After a few weeks in the hospital recovering from his injuries, colin moved back into his apartment and did his best to go about his daily life like normal. Apparently, the police had caught the assaulter a few days after the incident, he told me. I was a little skeptical about their detectiving abilities, but I accepted it. My stash of cash  - now 197,000$ was starting to make me feel really quite bad. I knew that it was probably colin’s money. After a while when he had probably checked his vent, I heard him yell and run off. But I know that he thinks some affiliate of his attacker had gone back into his apartment and searched the place. Or something like that.

My friends and I were keen on making up theories about what happened. The most obvious one was of course that colin was a drug dealer and he just happened to have worked a long time and saved up the money. Some guy probably found out how much he had saved and decided to have a go at it. But something told me that there was more to it. Sure, we knew he had drugs in his possession. However, upon further review of the drugs he had: I found that there had actually been only a small bag of weed found in the apartment. I questioned myself, my reasoning to think that he was a dealer. Sure, that is the most logical source for a giant stack of cash in one’s vents, but maybe it was something else. Yesterday, I was taking the bus to work, when I saw a large man much similar to the person I saw out of my window that night. When I got out of the bus and followed him a bit, he ended up right at the corner of boulevard and rosemary. And he came out with the box. Maybe I missed something really important in there.

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

mini song no. 1

A good friend of mine rolled up

said do you want a fruit rollup

can even dip it in ketchup 

but first you'll have to catch up ,

to the car, as it moves. 

 that’s why it never felt alright

things are happening strange tonight

best if people just stay inside 

Take shelter from the sounds , 

as we rock, and we groove .

[zaccomstockhuman-blog]

mini song no. 2

oh, what’s it like 

actin that way all the time

I more like a compromise but

you I sympathize with. 

A little bit jealous if