#LIKE THEY ONLY FOUND HAPPYNESS IN THE AFTER LIFE AND NOT WHEN THEY WERE ALIVE

[jaime-in-chaos]

Why the hell am I crying over gay robots with depression and sick cats.......

[leo-dooley-lab-rats]

Who I am

Once upon a time, a long ago, I had a very different life. That all changed when I moved in my step-dad. That was the day I stumbled into the lab. The day I met my family. The day I let Adam, Bree, and Chase into my heart and, I have never let them go since.

Over past eight years or so, some crazy stuff has happened but, some things never change. Adam and Chase always bicker and fight with one other. Bree always try to keep the peace between the two of them. As for me, I am the one who always have their backs no matter what.

If there’s one thing about me; it’s I don’t give a darn what happens to me just as long as my family is safe and alive. Maybe that makes mad man. Adam, Bree, and Chase, are heroes. Not just any old heroes, but bionic heroes. While they are so busy saving the world and everyone in it, who is going to save them? I am. That’s who.

Anyone person can save the day. That’s easy. There are very few who can save the world. My brothers and sister are part of few that can and have saved the world. I don’t know if I could ever save the word. I am always too busy saving my family on missions.

I am my family’s backup. Someone has to watch out for them. Maybe I’m not the most qualified to do, but someone has to do it. It seems that I’m the only one that is willing. I live in their shadows because that choice. It used to bother quite a bit. Now, it doesn’t matter. Keeping my family safe is more important than any glory or praise I could get.

Before, I was lonely kid living in one bedroom apartment with only my mom. Then, in the course of one day, I gained a family. A family that wasn’t just my mom and me. I love my mom, but something was always missing when it was just the two of us.

Growing up, my mom was often busy with work. Wasn’t her fault really. She was a single mom trying to provide for me, her son. It was lonely childhood. My friends were TV shows and movies as I was branded the “weird kid” at school.

All that changed the night my mom brought home Big D. I was skeptical of the man at first. Strange for thirteen year old boy to be skeptical of his mother’s boyfriend. I know. I love my mom and I hoped that this man that brought home that night was the one. Experience told me that it wasn’t going to be easy.

It was always hard for my mom get man to actual want to met me. Most men when they found out about would just reject my mother. I hated that. It was like I was ball and chain in the way of her happyness. Why was it so hard for men to understand that she had kid? In the long run, it was for the best.

The night he came over was one filled with anxiety and fear. As night went on, that fear and anxiety would be replaced with hope for the future. I had soften to the man as left that night. As no one has ever made mom smile like Big D. Except maybe me.

Soon, my mom and Big D got married. Moving in the palace that Big D called a home was shock at first. Then I stumbled into the lab. I met Adam, Bree, and Chase then. Everything from that moment was different. I had family. I had friends. I had everything I had wished for as kid.

Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like, if I have never met Adam, Bree, and Chase. Where would have life taken me? At the same time, I cannot imagine a world where we never met.

I often wonder, if Adam, Bree, or Chase even think about what my life was like before we met. They never ask. Nor do I bring it up. It is like unwritten rule to never bring up my past. The past isn’t all that important. It is just a past, but I know many things about their past. My family, outside my mom, doesn’t know it.

The day I met Adam, Bree, and Chase was one of the greatest days of my life. That is fact that will never change. I made my way into the lab by accident, and I am so glad I did. I don’t know if I had as big impact on my family as they did on me. I’d like to think that I did.

Since the day I met my family, I looked out for them. Whether that be at school or in the field. I have always tired to kept my family safe. Adam, Bree, and Chase don’t seem to notice this. That doesn’t matter though. All that does matter is keeping my family safe.

Sometimes, I feel like my family doesn’t notice me at all. I suppose it doesn’t matter. They might not always listen to my ideas or take me seriously, but I know at the end of day none of it matters. I love them and they love me. That’s what really matters.

Over the years, the family has grown to include Douglas, Daniel, and Namoi. Douglas was once a villain, but I have come to realize is a big softie. Daniel and Namoi are a new brother and sister. Family changes over time as do the seasons.

One night, Big D when was stitching up a cut I had obtained on a mission. I had withstaned the injury while pushing Bree out of way of falling debris. I often get injured on missions, but I will never forget the conversation that was had in the lab that night.

“Leo?”

“Yeah, Big D, what is it?”

“You could have killed,” he stopped working on the stitch to look me dead straight in the eyes “You know that right?”

“I didn’t die.”

“That isn’t point. You could have.”

“So, could have Bree.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe?!”

“For the love of all! In case you haven’t notice, she’s less breakable than you,” silence followed that last statement.

Big D wasn’t completely wrong about me being more ‘breakable’, but my sister needed me and that’s was all that mattered. Maybe, I am crazy. I have often wondered that. I do run headfirst into danger not giving a second thought to what will happen to me.

“Leo, your my son and I can’t lose you,” Big D doesn’t often call me his son and that’s how I know he was he was upset. “Especially if it’s on stupid idea that you’ve got something to prove, because you don’t... you don’t, Leo.”

“That’s not the reason, I did it. I know I don’t have anything to prove.”

My step-dad sighed and went back to patching me up, “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand you.”

I laughed at that. I still do. I know I’m strange. I always been that way. I used to hate it. I wanted to fit in. Now, I’ve come to embrace it.

“Leo, I didn’t mean to shout,” he told me after what felt like hours of silence.

“I know.”

“I just worry about you.”

“I know you do, but you shouldn’t.”

After that statement, I swear I hear Big D almost telling that ‘I’ll always worry, so stop asking me not to.’ He didn’t say that. Oddly enough.

“Look, Leo, can you do me one favor?”

“I guess.”

“Next time you want to do something this reckless and stupid, promise me that you’ll be little more careful?”

I lied to Big D that night. I said I’d be careful. Careful is not in my nature. Not when comes to protecting those I care about. I know shouldn’t have lied, but I wanted to have some kind of peace when I went into field. If that conversation taught me anything, then I don’t want nor need the credit for what I do.

I know. I know. Sounds nuts, but I don’t need anyone worrying about me. I can take care of myself, for the most part. It might be nice after save one of them to get a thank you or something, but to be honest I don’t need it. Knowing my family is safe and alive is all I need.

My family will always be the best part of me. It always be the part of me worth protecting. I won’t ever stop. How can I? Where ever and whenever, Adam, Bree, and Chase need me that’s exactly where I’m going to be. No matter what.

I will never stop looking out for and protecting my family. I may never get a thank you, but I will always be the protector of my family. Even if it gets me killed one of these days.

My name is Leo Dooley and that is my story.

[the-sierra-world]

Can’t let it go // Midnight blues

There are some songs that are sad by their nature, but back then when I listened to them I didn't feel those emotions. I didn't feel the pain they could cause or intensify, I just enjoyed the melody and that was possibe because I was happy. I wasn't going through the scenarios described in those songs so I didn't mind the lyrics. Actually, I felt glamurous walking down the street during the night coming back home from the P. I was alive. But now when I listen to those songs I feel the emotions from them themselves, but also from the nostalgia for the memories that I have to leave behind. Even thought I knew well that some day it will be over, I still gave myself all the way to those happy moments and emotions. Those were warm feelings, feelings of safeness, certainty and love… and they were only the beginning of a magical period of my life. Even the nights were magical for they weren't so cold and lonely anymore. I had that spark in me that was driving me. I will always look back at those times and see it through the same lenses; it was the time when my happyness came to me after depression being stuck with me for so long. I could feel that relief; the anxiety leaving my body for I have finally found something in life that started the fire. The fire that's been out for so long.

I see myself walking down that street in that town during the night and feeilng like I am going somewhere. It wasn't just a pointless walk, it had a purpose. I had a purpose. My god, it hurts now. To feel like I am forced to let go of all of that. But those times were lost a long time ago. It's been a whole year since then. My god, this spring outside is killing me. It makes me nostalgic so bad. The weather is so nice, yet it makes me sad for it reminds me of everything that I had, but am losing now. The walks that I used to take during sunny, warm weekend days weren't lonely because he was here. Am I losing him? Am I losing everything? I am scared. The weather outside is sunny and it's daytime, but I feel like this is my midnight blues.

[lesbeansoup]

Tale of Thrones (Long live the King) [#1]

Tale of Thrones is set in a world where war between humans and monsters is about to break up. Asgore and Toriel are King and queen of a realm in which both races coexist, although some tension can be felt in the air.

The story follows a different Gaster from the shady, quiet character we all know. He’s talkative, outgoing and nice to every single one of the people he meets. He has a talent to be loved, a perk when it comes to talking people into what you want. He’s happily married to a human lady named Lucy and has a son named Brandon, who is nineteen years old and serves the royal army, as every kid of his age.

He’s trusted, he’s loyal and would do anything to stop the war that threatens both races. He may find the way to do so.

(This is chapter one, I’ll write more if I feel like it. Hope you enjoy!)

                                                     ***

Asgore looked at him severely. Another council, another disappointment. He wouldn’t keep stability in his kingdom if things kept on being like that. Riots, thievery and murder were a common thing in the streets, despites the efforts of the queen to keep in touch with the people and their needs while her husband took care of the royal matters.

Even when Toriel got out of the castle and spoke to the people, offering company and understanding. No matter the race, people was never happy. Like if monsters weren’t as human as those “men”. Some were even more human.

—The council is over. You may go now if you wish.— Gaster stood up from his chair. His robes didn’t annoy him at all: he was used to dressing them and he wasn’t planning on getting rid of them either. He loved those clothes too much.

—Thanks for everything, G. Good job as always.—Gaster shrugged the compliment off and grabbed the folder he always held under his arm, giving him a profesional look, in contrast with his white scarred face.

—Oh, please, As. Don’t even mention it. It’s my job. Now, if you excuse me, I’d like to go home!—He smiled gladly at Asgore. Even when things seemed desperate, they had to stand tall and don’t let go off their hope. A smile could work wonders if you knew when to use it. And Gaster knew when to use it.

G loved his job. As the royal treasurer, he had lots and lots of contacts. Like a huge spider web that covered the whole realm, he had eyes and ears in every corner, and knew every little secret, every little gossip, every little joke that was told even in the smallest of places.

And he loved jokes. He loved knowing everything. Having everything under control, and knowing which area was most problematic, so he would focus investing money in that hospital, in that village, in that mansion, in that square.

He left the room in company of Alphys and Muffet. The royal council. A Trinity of monsters that had always been by the king’s side, and were worthy of his trust, even in times when even that was a hard thing to find.

—E-Er…I-I hope the king’s not too mad about all this, y’know…b-because of the whole “I am responsable for this”, a-and ssstuffff…—Alphys spoke in a trembling, shy voice, that was barely understandable for foreigners, but not for those who knew her well. It was a good thing that her only job was being locked in her lab, brewing all kinds of who-knows-what liquids, and supervising any kind of construction or work in progress that had to do with numbers.

—Aw, Alphy, don’t worry. He’s our King, isn’t he? He will stay determined! I’m sure of it!—Gaster tried to cheer her up. Although he knew it was going to be almost useless: the shy monster was not only nervous and talkative, but stubborn as a mule too.

—Yeah! And also, he’s got Tori by his side, right? Tee-hee!—Cheerful and optimistic, Muffet came to the rescue. Gaster smirked at her with complicity, and her responded by blinking two of his five eyes. Some people assured that she was able to make inventory of everything in the realm with all of them at once.

The three monsters walked together, chatting until they arrived to the main hall of the castle. There, they didn’t wave goodbye at each other. They knew where to find each other if needed. And they were gonna see each other more sooner than later.

G’s thoughts scratched the walls of his mind, trying to get out somehow. He walked down the street, straight as a stick, scanning with his eyes every single thing he saw. He liked to see the little details in everything.

That little spider on the Wall, happily building his trap next to a doorstep. That house was going to be well protected against mosquitos that summer, he though. The small river of water from a human’s house doorstep that was flowing with ease through the dirt, darkening its color.

Some kid was going to be in trouble for breaking that pipe.

It wasn’t until he had been walking for almost half an hour that he heard a voice calling his name. It was low, but hight pitched at the same time, like a two year old dog.

But Gaster knew exactly who did that voice belong to.

He turned around and saw his son walking to him in Company of two skeleton-like monsters, dressed in a beautiful, shiny armor. They were all sweaty: certainly summer was going to be cruel with soldiers this year.

—Dadster! Dadster!—His son happily chanted with his manly voice as he walked to him along with the two skeletons. Gaster laughed and  covered his face of laughter.

—Tell your cousins to take those off! They’re going to boil alive!—One of the two skeletons laughed and snapped his fingers, making both his and his brother’s armor dissapear, making Brandon the only one wearing armor.

—SANS! I WAS ABOUT TO LOOK COOL IN FRONT OF THE ROYALTY SO THEY WOULD LET ME IN THE ROYAL GUARD!

—Don’t worry, pal. I’m sure they’ll let you in. Someday. I feel it in my bones.—Said the shortests of the skeletons with a grin in his face.

Papyrus grunted.

—Come on, bro. Don’t be like that. I’m so humerus.

Papyrus started thigtening his mandibles, making his teeth let out an annoying noise.

—Don’t worry, G. We were just showing your kid some shortcuts, and took him to the Philosofer’s rock.

—Oh really? What’s Philosofer’s rock? I’ve never heard of it.—Answered Gaster confused.

—Oh, well. Yeah. You know. I’ve just baptized it. It’s a rock where I created the most meaningful of meaningful puns…—He got his hands of his pockets, like getting ready to run away from something.

—Sans, don’t even…

—TIBIA OR NOT TIBIA, THAT IS THE QUESTION!—Even after he could finish saying that phrase, Paps started running after him with an angry look on his face. Gaster and his son laughed as they saw  them get lost in the distance. After they were done laughing, G talked to his son.

—It’s getting late you little monster, wanna go have dinner?

—Don’t call me little monster! I’m not a kid anymore!—He answered, prideful.

—So is that a yes?—He asked with a smile.

—Sorry Dad. I’m afraid I can’t. Captain Undyne called us not long ago for a nightwatch.

Gaster wrinkled his nose, and then let him go. He was a man now, he thought, he had to take care of his duties. He still remembered when he was little, his Little cheeks, and his fighting games with that wooden stick in company of his cousins…

That nostalgia was washed off as son as he entered home. The wooden door opened with a noisy “SCREEEEEK”, and as soon as he layed a foot inside his house, someone hugged him from behind. Someone entered the house at the same time as him. And someone kissed his cheek as he closed the door behind his back.

—Good evening, honey.

Lucy was astonishingly pretty that day. Her wild red hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall of fire and flames, framing an innocent, cheerful face. An uncommon contrast that gave life to her face in an indescriptible manner.

—Good evening, dear. May I cook today?

—Isn’t Bran coming home?—Suddently asked Lucy, slightly worried. Gaster calmed her with an unworried gesture of his hand.

—Not today. He’s a little man with lots of big duties.—Lucy wrinkled her nose like G had done moments ago. Then, she shrugged and headed to the kitchen.

—I said I was cooking toda - - -

—YOU SAID. I didn’t allow you to. — She said with crossed arms and a grin in her face, as she grabbed a cooking pot and a spoon.

—Alright, the I guess we’ll - - - —Lucy spanked her husband in the butt with the wooden spoon, making him smile and allowing himself to express surprise. After some time to regain composture, he and his wife cooked dinner. Even more: they had fun while doing so.

It was not uncommon for Gaster to have fun doing things. But doing them with his family was a different kind of fun. A fun that fueled his soul and his heart to a limit he couldn’t describe by using just words. It gave him strength, determination to stay by Asgore and Toriel’s side in thos hard times. They had happy lives: people in the streets didn’t. But that didn’t matter when him, her and Bran were smiling. Happy. Blooming flowers in a world about to tear itself apart.

He forced those thoughts out of his head before he started becoming pessimistic and enjoyed dinner, note ver letting go of the expression of happyness that had formed in his face. He had a happy life.

As they were doing the dishes, there was a knock on the door.

“Strange.” Thought Gaster. He knew his son always carried with him a full set of keys. He dryed his hands with a towel and walked up to the door. He opened it, expecting anything.

What he found at the other side was a monster. A familiar monster. One tall, White as snow, female goat was at the porch with a face of sadness.

—Tori? What’s wrong?—He then noticed her hands, stretched and crossed in a way that made him feel weird.

—Gaster…I tried to save him… I’m so sorry…

 End is importat in all things.

 —May I come in?—She asked with a trembling voice. Something was horribly wrong with the queen. It wasn’t uncommon for her to visit random houses, but it seemed like she had something to say.

 And like the Jester said to the King…

 —It was an accident, G.

 There is bad news that I bring.

 —Your son is dead.—With a muffled voice, more a silence than a phrase, she let go the deadliest bullet a person possibly could shoot to a father’s heart.

—T̷hi̴s͠.͝.͠.t̵his ͟ḿưst be͘ ́a ̵m͝istake, ̶he͞ ̀ca̧n̡'̶t̶ ̀b̡e͜..̧.—Out of his throat came, in Company of his words, a white noise, comparable to a radio’s static.

—I’m so, so sorry, Gaster. I tried to save him. We all tried. But the injures were too…—Toriel decided to stop speaking as he saw Gaster’s face become shadier and shadier, like he was drowning.

He was drowning. Because a child who loses a parent is an orphan, and a wife who loses her husband is a widow.

But a father who loses his child is a disgrace.

Tears streamed down his face as his wife ran from the kitchen and tried to confort him. They took the conversation to the living room, where Toriel explained what had happened as softly as she could, trying to minimize graphic details, conforting his friend and servant, one of his most loyal companions.

Killed. A trident went through his heart. Asgore’s trident. Rookie’s armor looked a lot like the troublemaker’s and in the middle of a riot, Asgore had confused him with an enemy.

—H̗e̶̠̦̱͙.̭.̶.̯͍̥h̲̝͇ḛ'̪͓s͚͇̖ ̙ḏ̳̣̰̱̦̮ḙ̫̭̤͔̩a̪̖͉d̘ ͓̞͔̰͚L̳̙̪u͉̫̭͔̕cy̸̹͖̭̻͍̥͖.͙̼̘̠̦̱͙͞.̮̣̹.T̨͙͙̦̤̦͎o̩̠̪̪̣͖r̠̞i̡͇̪̭̞̠ę̠̬͖͓͖l͎̲̯̹̀,̙͔̣̤͉ͅ ̭̩w̖̰̗̠̲̯̥e̹̜ ͚͉͕̪̹c̨͓͖̺̜̙̙a̟ṇ̞̪̜͙̜̕ ̵̙̖̯̹f̬̖͍̰̘̮̯i͍̦͉̪̪̟̰͞x͈̹͠ ͕̺͚i̹̫̟͎̲t̳͈̘.̷̫̤͙̹̩̱̘.͖͇͕͍̹̰̗.̗̯̘̮̠͎r̢i̫̻̤̳̼̮͔g̼͍̭͚̩̱̣h̡͔̫͔͈ṯ̴̤͇͇̲͈?͏͚̰̣͍͎—Deep down he knew it couldn’t be fixed. But hope pulled him away from all logic thinking.

Dead. He would never feel his soft, warm cheeks against his skull, hear his laughs or play with his cousins hide and seek. And lose every time in purpose to make Papyrus laugh.

The war took him away. It was an accident.

Gaster and his wife cryed their son’s death for one whole moon cycle. In that time, friends came to visit and give condolences.

War didn’t take him away. The humans did. With their grabby hands, stealing armors and putting them on, they made the King confused and made him stab his kid. The whole war was a slaughter, and no one was doing anything to fix it. Even when they tried their best at their job, nobody could be always happy. Too many people, too many lives to spare.

Asgore had killed his child. That was the only truth. It may had been an accident, but that was it. Violence, and more violence. That was the solution of our beloved King. He thought he was his friend. His beloved friend. He could have called him a brother if someone had asked him to.

Incompetent, naive King. Your battles and your crusades took away his happyness. There had to be a way to stop this madness. A way to make everything end…

There was.

There was a way.

If he sat in the throne next to his wife, wouldn’t monsters and humans be more sympathetic ones with the others, seeing a monster and a human sitting in the throne? Wouldn’t that make things easier for everyone?

So he took his decision. He knew the rules of the game he was about to get into. A game played between four walls, with a throne in the middle. There’s no trust, there’s nobody that would help him. There’s nothing written, and the only winner is whoever is the last one standing.

                                                           ***

After a month, Gaster finally got up from his bed and opened the curtain. He kissed his wife in the cheek, softly, and left her sleeping. She looked like an angel, he thought. So sweet.

He walked up to the door, grabbed his robes and put them on. They didn’t annoy him at all: he was used to dressing them and he wasn’t planning on getting rid of them either. He loved those clothes too much.

He put his folder under his arm, opened the door and headed to the castle for another day of hard work.

He smiled.

Long live the King.

[borisartamonovblog]

The Soviet Trojan Horse in Islam and the September 11.

Once on the Russian national television was a program dedicated to the problem of extremist fascist groups in Russia today. Under the evil-minded connivance by the state, what I'm no doubt in, members of these gangs committing crimes of varying severity, including especially grave ones. Some of them arrested and sentenced to life in prison, behaved unexpectedly: they have adopteded Islam, the religion of those whom they hated and killed. At once I have to let know beforehand a reader about my personal belief in God, which fits quite enough with majority of the universal knowns religions but if one examine it at greater length, in detail, my belief is divergent in one or another aspect practically with all them. I described my faith in the book "Highlands"(Высокогорье); it is a separate issue. Here I'd like to say that with respect to the the majority of known religions, I am quite tolerant, with sympathy and understanding, but I'm not joining any of them with, because I doubt that I can count on reciprocal tolerance and understanding. The main tenet of Islam with: "There is no God besides Allah and Muhammad is Prophet of Him" - I quite agree: there is the Jewish word "Elohim" in the Bible which is translated into Arabic as Allah. And Muhammad - is one of the Prophets and Teachers of mankind as Jesus (Isa), Moses(Musa), Buddha, Krishna, Rajneesh and others Enlighteneds men, in other words, the born from Heaven accordingly the Christian terminology, or who was reached the state of Samadhi in the terminology of the Hindus. It seems that one would like to be happy: the ennemies and criminals have repented and found the true faith and embarked on the path to turn over a new leaf. It would be so if there aren't of the doubts about their repentance. It is not really often that Slavs become Muslims, but sometimes it happens. The Koran and the Muslim style of life turn out after certain people's heart, and this may be only welcome, if somebody finds the truth in that form, which it is the acceptablest in for him. Indeed the general tendency of adoption the Islam by Slavs is not observed. But in the given event showed on the Central TV one and all have adopted the Islam. It looks paradoxically, provokes the astonishment, questions and suspicions are arised. Certainly, if it is a sincere repentance and finding of the faith, than everything is all right and it would leave these facts with a joyful feeling. But if it wasn't a sincere repentance, than what it would be? If it is an unfair play, then what the game is it? The believing Muslims, are they want such "Trojan horse" at their place? Let's we look at the history. When Jesus Christ had brought His doctrine for humanity, the forces of evil attempted to destroy the doctrine and its followers. But it did not turn out. Then the enemies started to penetrate into ranks of the believers and to misrepresent it beyond recognition. "They had made the oppressive Catholicity out of the liberating Gospel" (A.I.Herzen-author's note). The veritable belief began to turn into its antipode. That is what Prophet Muhammad came to Earth for stop this process which led to the disgracefuls crusades and fires of the Inquisition. But there was not a hunting of witches in the new religion. Afterwards the voices of the protest began to multiply in the Christianity too which led to the Reformation and corrected Christianity, that is to the Protestantism. The Catholicity was forced to improve its standard after the Protestantism for don't fail the competition. Here is an essence which is the general principle of enemy: "If you cannot strangle somebody - embrace him". That is if you can't destroy something - carry out destructive ideological work, embed your own people, etc. And in 1917 the most dangerous enemy came to Earth - this is communism who promised the land for farmers (then farmers were shooted and dispossessed) and others goods, peace and progress, equality and happyness. Then all of this turned out a lie and turned the opposite things. Only one promise was executed: they eradicated the faith in God and did it on-barbarously with brutality, with method of the same Inquisition, but for this once it was openly atheistic. The Christians, they who hadn't time or who didn't want to run abroad, they died for their faith courageously in the torture chambers of cheka (Here the events after Civil War are meant). The Muslims here and there showed merited resistence to enemy. Detachement of the resistance were created, the people leaved for mountains, forests and deserts. The Soviet power understanding that it is impossible to get the better with only negatives measures, it began to feed those people influential, whom one can feed, bribe, those who will not fight to the bitter end. One can find humans like this among every people and there aren't any exceptions. In churches and mosques the soviet communist propaganda began to be heard oftener and oftener, like a poison added into the healing spiritual food. However, the foreign policy of USSR in Afghanistan in the second half of the XX century, it represent an especially interesting thing, which the principle "If you cannot strangle somebody - embrace him" appears in as clear as never. In the newspapers the "friendly" visits into Afghanistan were reported oftener and oftener, flattery about this country and its king who ruled that time was reported too. Builders, land surveyors leaved for there oftener and oftener for missions help to build different constructions at the close of the 1960s years and at the beginning of the 1970s. At the same time in the Muslim country a group of atheists-rebels of the communist trend was increasing. The Greatest Teacher Jesus Christ taught us to know the tree by its fruits. The moral decay of a part of the Muslim population was found as fruits of the tree of the soviet "friendship", the same fruits were unbelief and finally the revolution and seizure of power by communist Amin who was a tyrant operating with methods of the medieval obscurantism. There were even cases of people burnt alive by a new power, as mentioned in one of the programs of the Central Television. After repression the resistance such methods with Amin stopped to be needed for the Soviet gouvernement and was eliminated. The peoples of Afghanistan who had enjoied the "fruits" of the communist doctrine, they didn't want to see more the communists in their country on no account, so much the more this soviet marionette Babrac Karmal. Soviet Union, understanding that his antipopular power will not kept by its own forces, had brought troops into the country. This anti-Islamic move had provoked the just indignation not only among the Muslims, but among all the progressive humanity. For don't plunge the humanity into the Third World War and do with the lesser victims the United States began to give help to Mujahids not direct, military help, but indirect one. And what about satanic Soviet Union? Was it disappeared? If to answer definitely, of course not! It lost the armament drive in favor of America and was forced to split, to reduce to the size of the RSFSR. It became less harmful, less agressive, however all of this only for the survival. It took not quite the right name: Russia (In fact the real Russia was destroied irretrievably in 1917). It passed the pro-Western constitution, so as not to observe it wherever possible, but the essence: it retains its satanic nature. Who had doubt about it, he had possibility to receive evidence at the end of the 1994 when had begun the first war in Chechnya, the bombing residential districts in Grozny, the maltreatment of the peaceful population and crimes against it. The same style. One has to recognize a bird by its flight. The evil became weaker but its direction is not changed. Instead of one bugbear KGB, now there are others: skinheads who was organized for ordinary people would are afraid to speak truth about the State in the street and contract murderers from "patriotic" organisations for elimination more skilled partisans of the liberty and the democracy like Starovoytova, Politkovskaya and others victims of their hands. There is an infinite number of accusations which the Muslim world would can bring against of the soviet world. Now, back on topic about the United States of America! Is any religion in this country ever been banned? Is persecuted Muslims? Was people herded into freight cars at gunpoint, to evict from their land and to create conditions that not all survive? Is burning alive in a barn those who was left, whom was not evicted in time? Nothing of the kind in the United States has never been and could not be. The only complaint that can bring Muslims to the United States - it's support for Israel in the conflict with the Arab world concerning the disputed territories of Palestine. But the harm caused to the Muslim world by the Soviet Union many times outweighes all the bad fruits of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Now let's imagine a sage hermit who has spent a few decades in solitude and knows nothing about events of the 20th century, but he has kept the precise mind and the ability to reason adequately. Imagine that you have informed him about all the above mentioned facts and after this you tell him that in the 11 September 2001 several planes were taken off with Islamic suicide bombers on board, don't tell him where flew these planes but ask him to guess it. What he will answer to you? Have you divined? I know what have you divined about and you have too. And how shocked he will be if he will learn that in fact the planes flew for blowing up the Trade Center in New-York and the building of the Pentagon! He is most likely to exclaim: "It is probably that Soviet Union had brought its Trojan Horse into the Islam!" Or: "It is possible that a stool pigeon infected the Islamic world who uses his ostentatious faith as a cover and plays an unfair play!" Neither bin Laden and his people, nor the rulers of modern Russia all they never say aloud that, in fact, they have common interests. But it is enough to trace the chronology of the attacks, reflecting on each occasion, who benefits, and everything falls into its place, it is becoming clear. Including, it becomes clear whom the majority of skinheads is seeking to join with, the same one can say about murderers sentenced to life imprisonment and hypocritically accepting the Islam. I do not believe in their sincerity not all, of course, but most of them. They have a wonderful opportunity, being covered with the flag of Islam, continue to serve the interests of the red fascist Sovietism. It is written in the Coran a few times that there are true believers and hypocrites and Allah well distinguishes one from another. I was not abroad , but I can confidently say that in modern Russia there are most of all true believers Muslims in the republic of Ichkeria. There is less alcohol, less criminal camp morale, fewer police lawlessness. That is why, in my opinion, the war was unleashed against this Republic. Material interests, oil and mafia interests - all can be there, but in second place. In the first place this is a war against people of faith, to "subdue" the Caucasus, planning to make it a fully pro-Soviet. But neither Brezhnev's ally of Saddam Hussein nor Osama bin Laden, judging by their actions,they weren't moved by the fate of Ichkeria. After all, the crimes committed by the Soviet Union against both domestic and foreign Muslims, these crimes do not go to any comparison with the Arab-Israeli conflict. However, all attention is focused on the Arab-Israeli conflict, and Soviet and pro-Soviet atrocities in Afghanistan before, and most recently in Ichkeria as if they would not exist. This is direct evidence of the foul play, a double standard. No religion approves of such action as, figuratively speaking, bite the hand of his benefactor, and I mean the United States, which only recently, that is during the Soviet aggression in Afghanistan they have provided assistance and support. And these people, both customers and the executors of the crime of the century committed in the September 11, 2001, if they appear in Saudi Arabia, where devout Muslims perform the hadj, I do not think there'd be patted on the head, they'd will probably be executed. And let don't be upset devout Muslims. In our turbulent times, pro-Soviet totalitarian monster had stretched their tentacles completely in all religions. In Russian Orthodoxy the enemy even more firmly entrenched. It is sufficient an example that "priest" who proposed canonization as a saint, the monster of the human race Stalin, remains in the same position, among the parishioners there is a significant fraction of outright Nazis, and murderers Alexander Men and their customers remain unexposed. Another example is the Church of Evangelical Christians-Baptists (AUCECB) in the spring of 1993 a presbyter, having been in Canada, spoke about this a free country all sorts of nasty things, contrasting it with Russia, where in fact, in contrast to pure Canadian north, in Russia the tundra ant the taiga are flooded convict camps, criminals and "prison guards"(who aren't better than criminals). I have no doubt that such a distortion of the sermon, as they say, with the blame on others, was carried out to order of the pro-Soviet security services. I would advise to all believers, not only to Muslims, reading the Koran (Bible, the Bhagavad-gita) rely solely on your own mind and, of course, develop it and improve. Otherwise, why such a divine mind God gave you, not for you to listen to other people who are not beings of a higher order, but just the same people, like you, who may or mistake, or to foul play. If you rely only on your own mind, in the worst case, if you do not develop and improve it, you run the risk of responding to God, but only for your own sins. If you put your mind aside and rely on others, whatever that may be influential people, you risk to be responsible for the sins of others, or even worse, become a pawn in someone else's satanic game. And in the Christian Bible says, there are the words of Jesus (Prophet Isa) that "And if the blind guide the blind,both shall fall into a pit." And I write all this not for you listen to me. I just would like that each of you listened to God and your own heart. And do not be afraid of freedom. Allah had created man, and wished that he was free and listen to Him. If Allah did not want to see a person free, he would have forbidden tree surrounded by barbed wire or any other way would make the tree unavailable. If Adam did not listen to another person's Eve, he would not plucked the forbidden fruit. The Quran says that God - a God of Ibrahim, Ishaq, Yakub and Ismail, that is, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Ishmael. So in conclusion, it is quite acceptable to glorify God with the words: Allah Akbar! Amen.February 2010 Translated into English in the 27 of May 2012

The original Russian text

[eatghostjerky]

A Fortune in My Confession

I suppose my confessions must begin, in any attempt to make clear my actions, with my childhood. I was birthed to a pig farmer and his unwed mistress in a barn in the foothills of Regendorf in the year 1760. Whereas it was a cold winter’s eve and my father, being so poor to maintain enough kindling to keep his small farmhouse warmed in such climate, left my mother with me to shelter in the hay in the sty on for a week after my birth. There I did suckle my mother amongst the piglets alike, drawing my sustenance in the dirt like any other common animal. My father, when after some weeks was satisfied that my mother and her newborn wouldn’t freeze to death in the cold if abandoned, he did gift my mother a shoat to sustain us or to barter for shelter. I feels I must recount this portion so as to demonstrate my perturbations did not manifest from some mental disturbance developed later in life but instead from detriment sustained by me upon the moment of my birth.

At age nineteen I was to become employed by Loretz Fränkel, a keeper of a small inn in Regendorf. Two weeks after my hire, my mother did see it fit to move back to Poland to take care of her ailing father, of whom she never otherwise spoke. I heard no more of my mother after then, nor made any hearted effort to inquire after her. Having not the luxurys of finer inns in the area, the mattresses Fränkel operated were straw stuffed and not wool. I was charged with the duty of stuffing and stitching the mattresses, and readying the accommodations for the nightly travelers. It was whilst working at the inn that I did meet a woman by the name Anna Kleiner. One year past our first meeting, Anna and I would be married. Each year for three years after we found ourselves having a daughter. All was well and we were quite content raising our daughters. On one occasion, Fränkel caught me taking straw from the cellar to stuff one of mine own mattresses but upon learning it was for my three small daughters sharing the mattress, Fränkel capitulated and never spoke furthermore of my infraction.

After five years working the inn, Fränkel’s orphaned nephew came to live with him and thus I was forced out of employment. Needing a way to sustain my family and being of limited skills and means, I turned to fortune telling. As a child, my mother had spoken of her mother on several occasions being able to tell the fortune of people by looking at the lines in their palms. She said the talents run in the bloodline of the Romani and I concluded that I should use it to support my household. I then did speak with the chandler who kept shop next to the inn and he agreed to let me rent a small space of his shop for a weekly sum of my earnings. Being agreeable to the terms and also having no other prospects, Anna made a small sign advertising my fortune telling services and I set to work the following Tuesday. I earned well from the travelers staying at the inn and heard no objections to my methods, being they true or not. I mainly told fortunes of good will and happyness, as most are only concerned with their own health and futures. Soon I was able to to move into my own small space and so forth it went, for many uneventful years and I developed a small name for my self.

On an afternoon whilst reading a woman her fortune, she presented me with a curious question. She, not being content with my telling her that she would find her future husband within a year hence, asked if there was a way she could see her future husband’s visage so she may know him when the time of their meeting was upon her and therefore not miss her opportunity. My initial reaction was that indeed she could not, but I pondered a moment longer before answering. I wondered, mayhaps, if there could be a way to build a contraption so that my patrons may be led to believe that I could see the person in question and relay the features of that person’s countenance back to them. After my final readings of the day, I set about building a convincing prop of sorts. I fashioned a wooden frame wherest upon stood a counterbalanced swing arm holding a piece of curved glass. It appeared sufficiently whimsical that I hardly doubted any of my most believing patrons would question its purpose or authenticity. It so happened that indeed this device was ultimately the tool with which my demise began.

Word spread over the course of a few months that I was able to help young women seek out the men they would marry and my appointment book began to fill up quite rapidly. It was during this time that I was able to build a small addition onto our home and I began to work out of this space, thus saving the rent and, not having to travel into town, being able to spend more time amongst my family. In the summer of 1806 my dear Anna received word that her father had taken ill while summering in Kelheim and I urged her to take the girls and go see him. She left the following day for what was to be a month. It was in the first four days of their leaving that Barbara Reisinger came to me to have her fortune read.

Miss Reisinger heard of my abilities through an acquaintance and wished to know who she was to marry and when. As was my custom, I told her that she must be blindfolded and have her arms bound behind her so that she would not interrupt the process of my clairvoyance and may receive a most accurate reading. She willingly obliged, as many other had and I asked her to remove her outercoat so I may set about restraining her. She removed and handed me her coat which I noted was of a fine fabric and craftsmanship and thought Anna may like a coat as such. Whilst I was kneeled behind her binding her wrists I caught her scent. She smelled of pine and flowers and had a sweetness as honey. This instantly reminded me of Anna and was altogether different as well so that I was confused in both head and heart.

Regathering my sensibilities, I went ahead blindfolding Miss Reisinger and explained how I would proceed. A moment or two into the session she began to smile what could only have been a nervous smile and the sight of her lips stretched across her teeth, the stained linen across her eyes, the paleness of the exposed skin at her neck, the way she smelled, and the exquisite material of her dress that clung to her full bosom made something in my head twist so darkly that my hands began to tremor. I stammered for a moment and she questioned me if I had seen something wrong with her future husband. I assured her everything was in order, that sometimes the readings aren’t as clear as other times and excused myself for a moment. I went into my home and fetched a knife, my fire axe, and an iron poker.

Upon reentering the room, I did strike Miss Reisinger about the head with the poker, rendering her unconscious on the first blow. Her head slumped forward onto her chest and blood began to pour forth from the wound above her ear. To prevent her dress from being ruined, I removed my shirt and pressed it to her scalp. When I touched her I did hear Miss Reisinger gurgle and saw her clench her jaw. I took the linen from her eyes and tied it about her mouth, so should she wake her noises may be stifled. I then removed her dress, unbuttoning it from the back and pulling it over her head. Once the dress was at her wrists and unable to be removed further I lay Miss Reisinger on her stomach on the floor of my small shop and untied her wrists. I removed her dress fully and hung it next to her jacket on the wall. At this time, she was still unconscious and I was unsure of what I may do with her. I removed her boots and undergarments, folded them and placed them beneath her overclothes. On viewing the exposed Miss Reisinger I achieved an erection and then did have intercourse with her while she still lay on the floor. While I believe at the time I was convinced she was breathing, I do now believe that Miss Reisinger had already expired and the force of my body expelling the air from her lungs made me believe she was indeed alive.

When I completed the act of intercourse with Miss Reisinger, I stood above her and reclothed myself. It was then I accepted that the girl was in truth deceased and contemplated a way to rid my self of the body and any culpability. I ventured out behind our home and paced out one hundred metres to the base of the mountain. There, I dug a hole for Miss Reisinger to occupy which I believed of sufficient depth and breadth to hold her entire corpse and remain undisturbed by passersby or wildlife. Returning to the shop, I opened her breast and with a knife cut through the fleshy parts of the body. Then I arranged the body as a butcher does beef, and hacked it with an axe into pieces of a size to fit the hole which I had dug up in the mountain for burying it. I may say that while opening the body I was so greedy that I trembled, and could have cut out a piece and eaten it.

I wrapped the pieces in a length of burlap and carry’d them to the hole. Inside the hole I placed the pieces and shoveled on top of them dirt mixed with feces to dissuade any wild creatures from attempting to exhume the pieces. After finishing the burial I then washed the floor of my shop of the remaining blood and pieces of meat and bone that had scattered during the hacking. I then wrapped Miss Reisinger’s clothes in a piece of linen cloth and tied the package with piece of twine. I sat that night by candlelight staring at the package, fixated on the sounds Miss Reisinger made while I was performing my task of disrobing, defiling, and dismembering her. They rang in my ears for some time until I was able, at last, to sleep.

Only a few days passed before I took another woman. In the time my family was gone I took three more and because they were all travellers they went unnoticed. In the years after, I became obsessed with the acts I developed on Miss Reisinger. Sometimes a travelling friend or other acquaintance would stop by looking for them but I would state that they had left after our session and I had not heard or seen anything that raised my suspicions. My family was unaware of my actions and I acted alone in all instances. I kept the clothes of the women in a chest inside my shop, under an iron lock. On occasion I would have a coat or dress altered for Anna or one of the girls so they may have a nice piece of fashion to wear to church or to a special gathering. Mostly, however, the clothes were mine.

A coat of Catherine Seidel’s was being tailored for Anna and was duly identified by her visiting sister. Miss Seidel’s sister inquired after the tailor from whom he received the coat and he identified me as the customer. After notifying police, they did search my property and found the remains of the women I killed and bury’d. At once I was arrested and now am waiting to stand trial for the killings. If not for Miss Seidel’s sister I undoubtedly would have continued abducting women until my natural death or until I was unable physically to do so.

As I am likely to not see my family or freedom ever again, below are listed the names of the women made deceased by my hands and to whom I owe a great apology:

Barbara Reisinger Renate Blum Siglind Schmadel Jana Bleich Margret Stuhr Anna Rohr Lilly Wirths Katja Oppolzer Adelgunde Cassirer Stephanie Roehr Doris Hasselmann Cordula Dannecker Fiona Bähr Melina Seelman Auguste Nadelmann Eugenie Sack Hildegard Hersch Michelle Scheller Isabell Kaltenbrunner Irina Gross Maria Kissling Karina Kohlberg Dagmar Hopfer Freya Stein Marta Hoehman Hilde Augenstein Silke Christmann Karina Sperber Anne Knauer Margit Haas Elfriede Dorfmann Sieglinde Goldenberg Catherine Seidel Janine Bötticher Frauke Latzke Angelika Herrlein Florentina Klopstock Erna Wahrmann Jaqueline Röthke Friederike Rosenbaum Dietlinde Schulman Rita Tilgner

Accept this as my confession that my soul may be cleansed of my deeds and that I may be permitted acceptance into Heaven, should God see fit to allow it.

Admittedly, Andreas Bichel

-WDK