w

Welcome

This is issue twelve

LPM has entered its third year of existence and there are some changes this year. Instead of releasing an issue every two months we are now a quarterly magazine, so a new issue is released every three months. We also are happy to welcome Annie Weible to our writing staff, we are psyched that she has joined our team. We will continue to bring you interesting articles and amazing stories.

Paranormal - true crime- horror

In this Issue

The Legends of Alcatraz

360 Cabin Update Part two

The Dybbuk Box

The Iceman

Aleister Crowley

The Haunting of

Horror Fiction

The visage of Alcatraz conjures visions of complete and utter isolation. The forlorn wails of intrepid seagulls beating against

the craggy shore. A stoic reminder of the trials of human suffering, the main rises stark against the roiling Bay. The Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary began its storied history in 1910 as a United States Army prison before transforming into a federal prison in 1934. Since its inception, Alcatraz held the distinction of being one of America’s toughest , often being touted as “escape proof”. During its time as an active prison, Alcatraz held some of the most problematic prisoners. Notable characters held in Alcatraz includes; Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelley and , among just a few. Alphonse Gabriel Capone, also known as Scarface, was an American . Scarface was known for his brutality following the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre in in which seven rival gang members were gunned down by Capone’s men. Brought in for tax evasion. Scarface served five years inside Alcatraz and played banjo in the inmate band there. Still, Capone had his struggles and ended up in “the hole”, or segregation, a total of three times during his stay at Alcatraz. George Kelly Barnes, also known as Machine Gun Kelly, was another significant American gangster during the era. Machine Gun Kelly pictured to the right. Kelly stayed in Alcatraz for seventeen years on kidnapping charges before being transferred to Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary.

Robert Stroud (pictured below), best known as the “birdman” of Alcatraz, was a convicted killer and diagnosed psychopath. Stroud was incarcerated at Alcatraz for seventeen years from 1942 to 1959. Stroud was nicknamed the “birdman” for a previous penchant for keeping birds at Leavenworth. Unfortunately, despite popular myth, while at Alcatraz Stroud kept no birds as the practice was strictly against the rules of the prison. Stroud was known as an aggressive and violent prisoner while at Alcatraz and spent most of his time in segregation from the other prisoners. Daily life in Alcatraz was intentionally structured for the prisoners it held. Prairie ghosts writes, “each of the cells in America’s "first escape-proof prison" measured 4 x 8 feet, had a single fold-up bunk, a toilet, a desk, a chair and a sink. An inmate’s day would begin at 6:30 in the morning, when he was awakened and then given 25 minutes to clean his cell and to stand and be counted. At 6:55, the individual tiers of cells would be opened, and prisoners would march in a single file line to the mess hall. They were given 20 minutes to eat and then were marched out to line up for work assignments. The routine never varied and was completely methodical.”

Alcatraz was closed in 1963 and all current inmates were transferred to other, newer, prisons around the country. For a brief period, a federation of Native Americans named, “Indians of all Tribes” or IOAT, occupied Alcatraz, claiming the land as rightfully theirs. In 1972 the Federal government reclaimed the land and made Alcatraz a part of the Golden Gate Recreation Area, and officially opened the prison for tourism. Alcatraz is well known for their spooks and specters, possibly due to the long history of the island as well as the prison. The prison alone was known to have abysmal treatments for their more violent prisoners. A 2018 visit to the prison from The Confessionals Podcast’s

Lindsay Merkel listed a few of these treatments, below:

- The Spanish Dungeon: Located underneath Cellblock A are cells is known as “the Spanish Dungeon.” Reportedly used during Alcatraz’s military prison era, the dungeon cells were used for the more “unmanageable inmates,” who would be taken below and chained to the bars of the dungeon, allegedly without clothes and food on some occasions.

- The single Strip Cell: Feared by inmates, the Strip Cell was a steel-encased cell with no sink or toilet where unruly prisoners would be locked, without clothes, in total darkness. Offenders were usually placed in the freezing cell for 1 to 2 days at a time. - The Hole Cells: The Hole cells were similar types of cells, where prisoners were isolated from others and provided with only the bare minimum to survive- bread, water, a low wattage light bulb- for sometimes up to 19 days.

If these punishment methods weren’t enough evidence of the brutality borne from a “tour” in Alcatraz, Prairie Ghosts writes of several specifically gruesome incidences of prisoners choosing to die rather than spend another moment in Alcatraz. Prairie Ghosts writes,

Rube Persful was a former gangster and bank robber who was working in one of the shops, when he picked up a hatchet, placed his left hand on a block of wood and while laughing maniacally, began hacking off the fingers on his hand. Then, he placed his right hand on the block and pleaded with a guard to chop off those fingers as well. Persful was placed in the hospital but was not declared insane.

An inmate named Joe Bowers slashed his own throat with a pair of broken eyeglasses. He was given first aid and then was thrown into the "hole". After his release, he ran away from his work area and scaled a chain-link fence, fully aware that the guards would shoot him. They opened fire and his body fell 75 feet down to the rocks below the fence.

Ed Wutke, a former sailor who had been sent to Alcatraz on charges, managed to fatally slice through his jugular vein with the blade from a pencil sharpener. It’s no big surprise that the spirits of former inmates may have never left. The book Ghosts of Alcatraz by Kathryn Vercillo recounts a particularly chilling experience by a former guard.

Not too far away, just off Cell Block C, is the Utility Corridor where three prisoners who attempted to escape (Coy, Cretzer, and Hubbard) were ultimately captured and grenaded to their deaths. In this same corridor, a welded shut door muffles the eerie sounds of the spirits on this cellblock . . . A guard who was watching the area at night heard odd noises coming from behind the door. It sounded as though something was knocking around in the corridor down there, but when the guard opened the door, he saw nothing that could possibly be making the sounds. He closed the door and was going to continue on his security rounds, but as soon as the door shut behind him, the noises started up again. Thinking that someone must be in there playing some sort of joke on him, the guard opened the door again and looked around the area extensively. He never found the source of the noise. When he closed the door again, the noises again resumed . . . Since that time, this area has been blocked off and that particular door has been welded shut. Other night watchmen who have patrolled the cell house, after the last of the tourist boats have left for the day, say that they have heard the sounds of what appear to be men running coming the from the upper tiers. Thinking that an intruder is inside the prison, the watchmen have investigated the sounds, but always find nothing. One Park Service employee stated that she had been working one rainy afternoon when the sparse number of tourists were not enough to keep all of the guides busy. She went for a walk in front of A Block and was just past the door that led down to the dungeons when she heard a loud scream from the bottom of the stairs. She ran away without looking to see if anyone was down there. When asked why she didn’t report the incident, she replied "I didn’t dare mention it because the day before, everyone was ridiculing another worker who reported hearing men’s voices coming from the hospital ward and when he checked the ward, it was empty." Cell Block D is the most famously haunted cell block. In 14D, one of “the Hole” cells, a prisoner in the 1940s once spent the night screaming that a creature with red glowing eyes was killing him. In the morning, the inmate was found dead by strangulation, and no person was ever discovered to be responsible for his death. From May 2 to May 4, 1946, inmates attempted to take over the prison. The 3-day fight and standoff resulted in the deaths of 2 corrections officers and 3 inmates, and the injury of 11 officers and 1 inmate. Two convicts who participated in the takeover were later executed (at San Quentin) for their roles in the officers’ death. Several of the guides and rangers have also expressed a strangeness about one of the "hole" cells, number 14D. "There’s a feeling of sudden intensity that comes from spending more than a few minutes around that cell," one of them said. Another guide also spoke up about that cell. "That cell, 14D, is always cold. It’s even colder than the other three dark cells. Sometimes it gets warm out here - so hot that you must take your jacket off. The temperature inside the cell house can be in the 70’s, yet 14D is still cold... so cold that you need a jacket if you spend any time in it." Oddly, the tour guides were not the only ones to have strange experiences in that cell. A number of former guards from the prisons also spoke of some pretty terrifying incidents that took place near the "holes" and in particular, Cell 14D. So, would you visit Alcatraz? If so, and you get evidence, please let Living Paranormal Magazine know. We would love to hear your, first hand, accounts!

To read the first part of this article read issue eleven

There is something dark in the Brick Rancher. We are not sure what it is but it has effected plenty of people in different ways. We have had seasoned investigators leave the house and then leave the property without telling anyone. Dennis Estlock (who runs the Cabin on 360 with me) told me a story about what happened to him on New Year’s Eve.

Picture to the right is the Brick Rancher. We had been investigating earlier that night inside the Brick House. But we decided after the ball dropped at midnight to just relax and have a good time. So I got my computer out and we started playing music and dancing around. Dennis later told me that as he was watching us have a good time he felt the urge to “take out his gun and shoot each one of us in the head…” He said as soon as he felt that way he went back to the house and told the spirit to never do that again. Because whatever was in the basement of the Brick House had gotten into his head. We’ve had a psychic come down for an investigation and get smacked in the face. You could actually see the hand print on his face. We have captured an entity that I cannot explain on a FLIR camera in the basement. People have seen shadow figures walking around the house. I have captured what sounds like a pig noise while doing an EVP session upstairs in one of the bedrooms. One time we went to leave the Brick House and we were dead bolted inside. There is just so much stuff that happened in there it’s crazy. Countless EVPs and personal experiences. Just be prepared if you do go in there.

We’ve had Dave Spinks and Sean Austin come down to do some filming on the 360 property. Dave Spinks has a YouTube channel called “Real Supernatural” where he travels to different paranormal locations around the country and documents the activity. Sean Austin was the host of “The Demon Files” on Destination America. So, they have seen a lot when it comes to the paranormal. They have been to all the “hot spots”. Dave Spinks called the 360 property “One of the most physically, mentally, and spiritually draining locations that I’ve ever investigated.”

Sean in this picture is second along, from left to right. He had this to say about his experience at the Cabin on 360.

The Cabin on 360 is a unique and unsettling paranormal experience to say the least when it comes to investigating. I call it the trifecta of paranormal energy; Considering its three profound sources of spiritual energy. When my friend and fellow investigator Dave Spinks told me about this place it sounded really interesting but I didn’t really know much about it until we got there and met Dennis and Ryan. They explained the whole story about the overall history with Melissa who was killed by her step brother. They presented evidence of alleged demonic entity that looks exactly like a demon from a Demonology Book. I myself have always been interested by the taboo corner of the paranormal which demonology for my own personal experiences. Dave and I started investigating the Cabin and immediately we’re getting nasty comments towards us. I could the energy in the main room on the first floor at the same time. A couple of questions back and forth and something threatened Dave and all of a sudden he like he was punched in the gut. He felt like he was going to puke so he ran outside and proceeded to throw up. The voice in the spirit box said he deserved it right afterwards. After getting sick Dave said he wasn’t willing to go next door to the brick house where the alleged demonic thing has shown itself. I’ve been to quite a few dark places locations and the Rancher is definitely up there with one of the worst oppressive feelings. I remember Sean talking about his fear of spiders while we were giving them the tour of the Brick Rancher he said he would rather face down a demon than a spider. One thing he learned is you better watch what you say inside the Brick house. Whatever is in the Brick House will play with your fears. It is cunning it will separate the individuals it can exploit from the rest of the group. It has sent people to the hospital. It can get in your head. So, be sure and use caution when you visit, because you never know what may happen. Next door to the Brick House is the Log Cabin. The Log Cabin was built in the early 1980s and it was meant to serve as a model home for a company called New England Log Homes. It’s had many different faces since then. It has been a doll shop, a gift shop, a thrift store, a gourmet dog treat shop, and a hair salon to name a few. One of the interesting stories about the Cabin concerns the hair salon. One day they just decided to up and leave.

I wonder what exactly happened to make them want to leave everything behind. There is a rumour that at one point they had used the Cabin as a brothel bringing in men to satisfy the women. That rumour kind of makes sense considering some of the EVPs (electronic voice phenomena) that have been captured upstairs in the back room. There is one in particular that got my attention I was upstairs doing a recording and you can hear a woman’s voice saying: “I’m naked.” It was clear as day and her tone was so nonchalant it was just amazing to me. We have had doors slam and people have seen shadow figures walk around. We have a doll, about the size of a 4 year old, that we named Katelyn; I put her upstairs in the loft looking down at the main living area of the Cabin. There are some nights that it looks as if Katelyn’s head is follows you. A few years back we had two women come down from Northern Virginia for an event we had the Cabin. The event didn’t wrap until after 1 am and they were going to have to drive back up north; so I told them they could stay in the Cabin overnight. They agreed and we left them out there. Maybe an hour or two after we had left I get a message telling Above is a me they had decided to go image of home. Turns out there was too Katelyn the much activity going on; they doll and to said they kept hearing what the left is a sounds like a bowling ball picture of the hitting the front door. I cannot front door to the Cabin. explain what that was. But, the best part is while they were there they called the police because they were too scared to go out and see what the noises were. Now, if a paranormal location scares you enough to call the cops then that is pretty awesome. The remnants of the regiment were formed and sheltered behind a fence (to shoot over) just outside of the parapet, and continued the unequal struggle, hoping for support that never came. But not so with the little red-cap color bearer. He stood erect within twenty feet of the muzzles of the enemy's guns and waved his flag defiantly in their faces. They must have hesitated to kill him in admiration of his bravery. Though finally a heavy gun was trailed on him not twenty yards distant. His little ‘red cap’ flew up ten feet, one arm went up one way, the other another-fragments of his flesh were dashed in our faces. They had ‘killed him, too. This is an excerpt of an article written in the “Southern History Society Papers” describing the death of a Confederate color bearer at the Battle of Bethesda Church. Our property lies right in the middle of where the battle was fought. The land our property sits on is ripe with paranormal activity. When you walk behind the Cabin and the Brick House into the woods it is like entering a whole other world. There are 7.2 acres of woods behind the houses. The woods are very peaceful especially during the day it is nice to walk out there and get away from society for a little bit. The first time we went into the woods we did some metal detecting and started digging up old Civil War Bullets. We found a “Love Always” broach which was given to a soldier by his wife or fiancé as a token of her love before he left for war. The thing about these items is that more than likely the last time they were touched was over 200 years ago. It’s crazy to have that kind of history in your hands. I love my walks thru the woods it helps clear my mind but there is something mysterious about those woods. It just feels like stuff happened back there. We found a “Love Always” broach which was given to a soldier by his wife or fiancé as a token of her love before he left for war. The thing about these items is that more than likely the last time they were touched was over 200 years ago. It’s crazy to have that kind of history in your hands. I love my walks thru the woods it helps clear my mind but there is something mysterious about those woods. It just feels like stuff happened back there. The woods behind the Cabin on 360 are rife with paranormal activity. We know for sure that there are soldiers still fighting their never ending battle in the afterlife. We have heard and captured cannon fire while in the woods. Musket fire is occasionally heard as well. There are children in the woods. I know from experience I had just finished doing an EVP session with a friend of mine in the woods. As I was about to start the playback to review what we may have captured we heard what sounded like a toddler scream with joy and then laugh. It was so close I thought someone had brought there kid into the woods and we were way back in the woods. My first thought was “who the hell is bringing their 4 year old all the way back here?” I get up to look around and there is nothing. There is no sound except for the birds chirping in the trees. And that is just one of the many examples of paranormal activity that has been experienced back there. The Cabin on 360 is a special place. It is more than just a haunted location. It has brought a family together. We have public investigations out there to raise money for charities. It is pretty much responsible for my family coming together. I met my girlfriend and the mother of my son at the Cabin. There is one person that brought us all together her name is Melissa Carol Elliott.

The Dybbuk box is a small cabinet said to contain a malicious spirit that has the ability to haunt and/or possess the living.

The storyh of the Dybbuk box is a fascinating tale that spans back to the days before WWII. The box first appeared in America with Holocaust survivor Havela.

Havela came into possession of the box in Spain before her immigration to America, where she would remain the sole owner until her death in 2003. After Havela’s passing her family held an estate sale where a local man, Kevin Mannis unknowingly purchased the box with a group of several other items. Later as Mannis went through his purchases he came across the cabinet, he believed it could have been a family heirloom that was unintentionally sold, at which time he reached out to the granddaughter who hosted the estate sale. The granddaughter insisted that he keep the box, explaining that it had been locked away from human contact for years because of the spirit that haunted the box.

What’s inside? While there is no absolute definition on what should be placed inside of a dybbuk box to conceal the alleged spirit, this list is what is typically found within its walls. -Two 1920’s pennies. The pennies are old and made entirely from copper, a substance that was believed to ward off and protect against evil.

-A small lock of hair. While there’s no way of knowing who’s hair is found in the box, human hair is a popular component in many witchcraft type rituals (aka the sealing of the box).

-A small chunk of stone engraved with the Hebrew word “Shalom” which simply translates to “Peace” making complete sense as to why you might choose this holy word to seal the spirit in the box peacefully.

-A small brass goblet (known as a Kiddush cup) which in Jewish faith is a cup made up of positive energies.

-One dried rose. While roses are typically associated with love, they also possess a strong energy for warding off evil.

-Last but not least a single small candle holder, symbolising a light in the darkness. Mannis would later go on to appear in an episode of Paranormal Witness about his experiences with the Dybbuk box.

In the episode Mannis gives us a glimpse into his life, he owns an antique furniture refinishing shop in Portland, Oregon. Not long after coming into contact with the box, he took his purchase into his shop and left it in the basement until he had time to thoroughly inspect it. He then left the store to run errands. No more than an hour later Mannis received a call from one of his employees, frantic the employee told Mannis that there was someone in the shop smashing things and swearing.

Upon returning to the shop, he found the basement lights had all been shattered and the room was heavy went the smell of cat urine. His employee left the shop and never returned. Convinced that it was nothing more than the result of an intruder Mannis went on to clean the box up and decided to gift it to his mother for her birthday. His mother came by and they went out to lunch, at which point he gave her the gift. Later that day, back at the shop, an employee came to grab Mannis explaining that there was something wrong with his mother. When he found her she was sitting still in a chair crying and unresponsive. His mother was rushed to the hospital where she was diagnosed as having suffered a stroke and was unable to speak at the time. Using a ‘spell board’ his mother expressed her hate for the gift. Not long after Mannis regifted the box to his sister who held it for no more than a week before returning it. He repeated this with his sister in law who kept it for only three short days, his brother then returned it to him and complaining that smelled strongly of jasmine flowers. Mannis then sold the box off to a middle aged couple who also returned it after just three days, telling him “This has a bad darkness.” After failing to be rid of the box Mannis eventually brought the box into his own home where he immediately began to suffer intense nightmares Above is the back of the same box picture on the previous page. Below is a eBay listing for another from which he would wake with Dybbuk box. There have been many boxes advertised bruises and marks on his body. and sold via eBay.

We do not recommend that you purchase one for two reasons. First of all it could be a con, and not a genuinely haunted Dybbuk box. Secondly, the opposite could happen You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for. You do not know who or what possibly haunts the box and it could be dangerous. I find myself walking with a friend, usually someone I know well and trust at some point in the dream, I find myself looking into the eyes of the person that I am with. It is then that I realize that there is something different, something evil looking back at me. At that point in my dream, the person I am with changes into what can only be described as the most gruesome, demonic looking Hag that I have ever seen. This Hag proceeds then, to beat the living tar out of me. - Kevin Mannis

Mannis as well as visitors to his home began to see shadows lurking in different areas of the home. At this point he resorted to placing the box in a outside storage unit. This action proved futile when he was awaken by a smoke detector going off inside the unit. Upon inspection there was no smoke, just the rank odour of feline urine once again. With no more ideas of his own on how to deal with the box, Mannis took to the internet in search of answers. At around 4am, while he scoured the internet, Mannis recalls the feeling of something breathing down his neck accompanied by a scent of jasmine perfume and shadows again moving just out of sight. Finally unable to handle owning the box any longer Mannis placed it for sale on Ebay where a student of Missouri University would purchase it and eight months later sell it again after his roommates complaint of insomnia and illness while in the presence of the box. Jason Haxton bought the box from the student for $280.00. Haxton claims to have experienced several paranormal activities while in possession of the box from welts and marks on his skin to what he claims was an ‘anti-aging’ effect. Haxton took a different approach to the box, bringing in scientist and researchers in to inspect the box. He even went as far as bringing in local witches to make the box more manageable. He believes that whatever is contained within the box plays off of what/who it comes into contact with. Haxton kept the box contained for some time before deciding to sell the box once more to ‘Ghost Adventures’ leading man Zak Bagans. To this day the box is on display in Bagans museum of haunted objects in Las Vegas. The box is not available to the public, and in order to see it you must first sign a waiver releasing Bagans of any and all liability from what may happen while viewing the box and anything that may happen after. Of course there are sceptics that believe anything that has happened while in possession of the box is solely mind of matter, it is hard to ignore all of the things that have happened to anyone who has owned the box.

Richard “The Iceman” Kuklinski Hired Hitman, or Cold Blooded Killer? It was a man and he was begging, and pleading, and praying, I guess. And he was ‘Please God’n all over the place. So I told him he could have half an hour to pray to God and if God could come down and change the circumstances, he’d have that time. But God never showed up and he never changed the circumstances and that was that. It wasn’t too nice. That’s one thing. I shouldn’t have done that one. I shouldn’t have done it that way The words you just read were spoken by one of the most prolific serial killers of the 1970’s and 1980’s in the United States, Richard Kuklinski. Kuklinksi was an American hitman and self-proclaimed serial killer, born and raised in New Jersey. Convicted of murdering six people, but boasting that his kills actually numbered in the hundreds, Kuklinski was a seemingly normal family man. However, behind closed doors, his violent outbursts were just one sign to those close to him that there was more to this man. Kuklinski’s dark side hid a man who later proclaimed he committed his first murder at 14 years old, boasting to media outlets and investigators. The question remains, who was Richard Kuklinski? What created this cold blooded killer?

Kuklinski was born in April 1935 in Jersey City, New Jersey. His father, Stanley, was a Polish immigrant, railroad worker, and a violent alcoholic. His mother, Anna, was born of Irish immigrants and was a staunch Catholic. Both parents abused their children regularly. Kuklinksi claimed that his mother would beat the children with a broom handle and other household objects until her weapons of choice were broken. His father, though, took abuse to another level. He would beat his children during drunken rages, inflicting numerous injuries. Kuklinski’s older brother, Florian, died at eight years old. Kuklinski later claimed that Florian died from injuries his father inflicted on him during one of these beatings, but when questioned by police, his father claimed Florian had fallen down a flight of stairs. Stanley Kuklinski left his wife and four children, but the damage was done.

Kuklinski dropped out of school during the eight grade, and claimed that in that year he committed his first murder, beating the town bully to death with a curtain rod. He slaughtered neighborhood animals for fun, stating that he would fantasize of murdering his father while doing so. Also of note, Kuklinski’s older brother Joseph was convicted of the rape and murder of a 12 year old girl, tossing her body and her dog from the top of a five story building after he committed his crime. Kuklinski’s response to his brother’s crime during an interview was, “We come from the same father.” Kuklinski was married twice and fathered four children. He and his first wife, Linda, had one son. While married to Linda, he began working in a warehouse and fell madly in love with 18 year old Barbara Pedrici. They formed a relationship and the situation quickly escalated. Barbara later recounted that she attempted to leave Kuklinski early in their relationship, but he drew a knife, stabbed her in the back saying, “This is an object lesson. Never leave me.” Shortly after, Kuklinski left his wife and he and Barbara were married. Kuklinski loved being a father to their three children, spoiling them with family vacations and Above is a picture of Kuklinksi aged 10 sending them to private schools. However, his fits of rage occasionally resurfaced and resulted in Barbara being severely beaten, Below is a picture of him with his wife and two daughters. leading to numerous broken bones and two miscarriages. Another factor behind Kuklinski’s crimes was his imposing size. Standing six feet five inches tall, he had the upper hand literally and metaphorically against those he fought. During the 1950’s, Kuklinski earned a reputation as a pool shark, and developed debts with some well-known local mobsters. Kuklinski claimed that his reputation gained him the attention of New Jersey’s mob Roy Demeo and the Gambino after he fell into a gambling debt with the mafia leader. The leader, surprised at how well Kuklinski handled the beating his men handed out to him, brought him on as an associate. Kuklinski became tight with the family, trafficking illegal pornography, staging and committing robberies, and physically threatening those who threatened his mob family. His crimes were not always linked to his mafia family, though. Even though he had been hired to dish out beatings to those who betrayed their name, Kuklinski began prowling City for new victims, unrelated to his mafia activity. When asked how he chose his victims, he stated that they were usually just people who annoyed him, or those he felt had taken advantage of him in some way. Other times, his victims were chosen randomly. Kuklinski left no patterns behind in his , choosing to kill victims in multiple ways in an attempt to throw off authorities. He shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, suffocated, beat and poisoned his victims. He claimed that he would often beat his victims to death “just for the exercise.” One of Kuklinski’s favorite murder methods was the use of cyanide poison, as he claimed it was not as messy as the other methods and was difficult to test through toxicology. Kuklinski’s methods of disposal of bodies changed often, as well. Some were dismembered and thrown in the Hudson River, dumped in oil drums, placed in trunks of cars and crushed in junk yards, even fed to rats, by Kuklinski’s claims. His favorite method though, and the one that earned him the nickname “The Iceman,” came into play after Kuklinski began freezing the bodies of his victims in an industrial freezer. He claimed he did this to keep the bodies from decomposing immediately, thus throwing off the timeline of the murders to investigators. Kuklinski continued his association with the mafia families for nearly 25 years, but their crimes began to separate the once tightly bound circles. Kuklinski began carrying out jobs on his own, running car theft and drug scams. He also became brazen in his murders, sometimes leaving victims in plain sight, just to prove a point to anyone watching. These acts gained the attention of the FBI, who began watching Kuklinski closely and piecing together his crimes. In 1985, the New Jersey Criminal Justice department formed a task force dedicated to Kuklinski’s arrest, calling it “Operation Iceman.” The officers were able to connect Kuklinski to the murders of five well known leaders, and decided it was time to send in one of their own under disguise. Agent Dominick Polifrone of the Department of Alcohol, Firearms, and Tobacco, worked with Phil Solimene, a long time friend of Kuklinski’s, to gain the Iceman’s trust. Polifrone told Kuklinski he wanted to hire him to commit a hit during a drug deal, and Kuklinski agreed. Polifrone provided Kuklinski with what he claimed was cyanide to commit the murder. However, Kuklinski became suspicious. Before the murder was to occur, Kuklinski took the “cyanide” to the streets and tested it on a stray dog. When the dog did not die, Kuklinski knew he had been set up, and aborted the mission. The FBI was watching, and Kuklinski was arrested during a roadblock hours later Prosecutors charged Kuklinski with five counts of murder, possession of firearms and robbery. It was discovered that he was hiding large amounts of money in Swiss bank accounts, and he had purchased an airline ticket to leave the country. In March 1988, Kuklinski was found guilty and convicted of five murders, receiving five consecutive life sentences.

During Kuklinski’s time in prison, he became well known for granting interviews to reporters, psychologists, criminologists and prosecutors. He claimed that between the years of 1948 and 1986, he murdered between 100 to 250 victims, all male. His only rule for killing, he stated, was that he never murdered women and children. Television network HBO aired three separate documentaries about Kuklinski’s life in 1992, 2001, and 2003. In October 2005, Kuklinksi was diagnosed with Kawasaki disease, an inflammation of blood vessels. He was moved from prison to a highly secured area of St. Francis Medical Center in New Jersey. He asked doctors to revive him if he went into cardiac arrest, not knowing that his former wife, Barbara, had signed a do not resuscitate order. As Kuklinski laid in intensive care, just a week before his death, the hospital asked Barbara again if she wished to change the order. Barbara declined. Kuklinski died on March 5, 2006 at the age of 70. He had spent 18 years in prison for his crimes. The true extent of Richard “The Iceman” Kuklinski’s crimes will likely never be known. His life of abuse and crime can best be summed up, though, in his own words: “By now you know what I like most was the hunt, the challenge of what the thing was. The killing for me was secondary. I got no rise out of it, for the most part. But the figuring it out, the challenge, the stalking and doing it right, successfully? That excited me a lot. The greater the odds against me, the more juice I got out of it.”

Born as Edward Alexander Crowley on October 12, 1875 in Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, England, Aleister Crowley was the son of extremely devout evangelical Christian parents- Emily and Edward Crowley. Edward was the owner of a family brewing business that has allowed him to retire before

Aleister was born. Emily had a difficult relationship with her son, actually giving him one of his monikers- ‘the Beast’. In March 1887, when Crowley was 11, his father died of tongue cancer, which Crowley recalled as a turning point in his life. Aleister idolized his father and his death was devastating. While attending Malvern School and Tonbridge College, Aleister started becoming skeptical of Christianity, pointing out inconsistencies to his professors and rebelling against the Christian morals he was raised with. Crowley was withdrawn from school and sent to study with a tutor at Eastburne College where he studied chemistry, chess, poetry and gained an interest in mountain climbing. On a visit to Sweden, he experienced a life-changing vision which persuaded him of his spiritual vocation, a calling which he marked by changing his name to Aleister, the Gaelic form of his middle name, meaning ‘man’s defender’. He referred to this experience as the first of two events that ‘put me on the road to myself’.

He recalled, ‘…my animal nature stood rebuked and kept silent in the presence of the immanent divinity of the Holy Ghost; omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent, yet blossoming in my soul as if the entire forces of the universe from all eternity were concentrated and made manifest in a single rose.’ Just one year later, in 1897, during a minor illness, Aleister began to contemplate death. Aleister searched for direction in this pursuit of knowledge of the unseen. He read The Book of Black Magic and of Pacts, by A. E. Waite, and wrote to its author asking for guidance. Waite suggested that he read The Cloud upon the Sanctuary by Councillor von Eckartshausen.

The summer of 1898 Aleister travelled to Switzerland. He spent his time there mountain climbing and reading the Kabbalah Unveiled by S. L. Mathers. One evening, Crowley was relating his interest in Alchemy to a group of men in the beer hall, and was overheard by a practicing Chemist and Alchemist, Julian Baker.

Baker introduced Crowley to George Cecil Jones, who agreed to sponsor Crowley’s initiation into the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, a secret society dedicated to the study of the occult (the symbol for which is pictured here).

Throughout the first two decades of his life, Aleister seemed to be aware of a void in his life; something is missing, something essential; he was searching, but not sure of what it was that he was seeking. The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn had the answer and was able to help him define his goal. What he sought was his own Divinity, his Holy Guardian Angel, the Holy Spirit within. This ancient abstraction of a part of man, which is one with the divine, goes back to antiquity. The Apostle Paul alludes to it in the Christian New Testament.

After traveling to Mexico, India, Burma, and doing some climbing in the Himalayas, in 1902 Crowley returned to Boleskine House, his home in Inverness, Scotland located on Loch Ness to attempt the Operation of Abramelin, a magical working for the purpose of integrating the Higher Self or Holy Guardian Angel. This mansion was later owned by Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin and burned down in 2015. The ritual required at least 6 months of preparation, celibacy and abstinence from alcohol. However, it also includes the summoning of the 12 Kings and Dukes of Hell, to bind them and remove their negative influences from the magician's life. Whilst Crowley was in the process of performing the lengthy ritual, he was called to Paris and, according to legend, he never banished the demons he had summoned, leading to strange happenings occurring in and around Boleskine House. Crowley later said that his experiments with black magic had simply ‘gotten out of hand’. In August of 1903 Crowley wed Rose Edith Kelly in a "marriage of convenience" to prevent her from having to agree to an arranged marriage; the marriage appalled the Kelly family and damaged his friendship with Rose’s brother, Gerald. While on a honeymoon in Cairo, they claimed to be a prince and princess and rented an apartment where Crowley set up a temple room and began invoking ancient Egyptian deities. According to Crowley, Rose began channeling and told him ‘they are waiting for you’. She explained that ‘they’ were the god Horus and led him to a museum, where she directed him to a mortuary stele known as the Stele of Ankh e fen Khonsu. Crowley thought that it was important to note the stele’s exhibit number- 666. According to Crowley's later statements, on 8 April he heard a disembodied voice that claimed to be that of Aiwass, the messenger of Horus. Crowley said that he wrote down everything the voice told him over the course of the next three days, and titled it the Book of the Law. The Book of the Law proclaims a new age for humanity, the Aeon of Horus. During the Aeon of Horus man will look inward for enlightenment. This is in contrast to the age of Osiris, in which man looked to religious leaders to teach him about the divine.

The main precept of Thelema, "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law." is often misunderstood and taken out of context. Used properly, it refers to the Will. This is our true and perfect path, on which our Holy Guardian Angel guides us when we have learned to hear and to follow our higher selves. For those who are called, it refers to the Great Work. "Do what thou wilt" does not mean, "Do what you like." It really means do what thou wilt -- then do nothing else. Let nothing deflect thee from that austere and holy task. Liberty is absolute to do thy will; but seek to do any other thing whatever, and instantly obstacles must arise. Every act that is not in definite course of that one orbit is erratic, a hindrance."

In 1920, he moved to Sicily, where he established the Abbey of Thelema as the headquarters for his new religion. He also continued to experimented with sex and drugs. In 1923 Crowley was expelled from Sicily, when an Englishman died in mysterious circumstances after a ritual during which he was said to have consumed the blood of a cat.

Although nearly penniless, disgraced, and with a severe heroin addiction, Crowley never lacked followers. He fathered several children, most of them illegitimately, and was still in demand until the end of his life, designing a new sequence of tarot cards and commentating on it at some length in his Book of Thoth of 1944. He died, in Hastings, in 1947. o Myrtles Plantation Photos by Josh Bender

The haunted mirror of

Myrtles Plantation

This story dates back to 1817 where the owner Sara moved in with her husband and their children; and being slave owners, a girl named Chloe was also a resident of the house under their employment.

Chloe was then caught eavesdropping on Clark, Sara's husband, and as punishment, he cut off one of her ears. In order to hide her mutilation, Chloe wore a green turban to cover up her shame and as she was determined to get back into her master's good graces, she was eager to make amends for her curiosity. She decided to make herself the hero in his eyes by saving his family from an ill fate - that she would set up - except it all went horribly wrong.

She decided to poison them with oleander leaves which she put in a birthday cake for the family, except she got the doses wrong killing Sara and her two children. Chloe confessed to the other slaves who were terrified that they would be killed by association, so they hung Chloe and hid her body.

Whenever a family member dies, tradition dictates that you're supposed to cover all mirrors in the house so that their spirits don't get lost or trapped. Poor Clark missed one mirror in the house and it is said that the four women are stuck there.

There have been sightings of the four of them, children's hand prints are seen in the mirror as well as the women themselves.

Al Capone is probably one of the most iconic and recognizable American in history. He was renown and one of the post powerful men in Chicago during the and . He employed over 1000 gunmen in his service, up to half of the city's police force was on his payroll, and he had dozens of aldermen, state's attorneys, mayors, legislators and even congressmen in his pockets. His crime organisation dominated Chicago and in many ways his power was absolute. To this day people leave gifts for him at his grave side, despite his ruthless past. Even when he was alive he was respected by a large population of Chicago, they would cheer for him at Baseball games as an example.

Capone, by the age of 26, had in his control a crime empire worth over $30 million, employing over 100 people with a weekly payroll of over $300,000. His secret of success was to limit the mob's activities to those rackets which had a strong demand; liquor, gambling and prostitution. He gave people what they wanted and they loved him for it. But he still had his enemies. September of 1926, a rival gang sent an entire convoy of cars loaded with men with machine-guns past Capone's Lexington Hotel headquarters. They poured over 1000 rounds of hot lead into the building but Capone escaped injury.

He appeared to be invincible but things started to change when he ordered the St. Valentine's Day Massacre in an attempt to get rival . The people of Chicago started to have enough of the savage bootleg wars and the US Government started to apply a lot more pressure to shut down this enterprise. In the end though, it would not be murder or the breaking of Prohibition laws that would get Capone but tax evasion.

Capone was sent to Atlanta U.S. Penitentiary in , aged 33. Upon his arrival at Atlanta, Capone was officially diagnosed with and gonorrhoea. He was also suffering from withdrawal symptoms from cocaine addiction, the use of which had perforated his nasal septum.

He was eventually transferred to the famous Alcatraz prison. At Alcatraz, Capone's decline became increasingly evident as neurosyphilis progressively eroded his mental faculties. He spent the last year of his sentence in the prison hospital, confused and disoriented. Capone completed his term in Alcatraz on January 6, 1939, and was transferred to the Federal Correctional Institution at Terminal Island in .

Alcatraz was a place of total punishment and few privileges, using terrible methods to punish inmates. One of the most successful methods of punishment was being put in the "holes". These were dungeons underneath the prison. Capone spent three stretches in the "hole" during his years at Alcatraz. Many of the Alcatraz prisoners went insane and Capone was possibly one of them. The attempts on his life, the beatings, a stabbing and the prison routine began taking a terrible toll on Capone. After several attempts on his life in the prison yard, he was excused from going outside. Gifts to Alcatraz inmates were forbidden, but musical instruments were allowed, so Capone's wife, Mae, sent him a banjo. He would often sit in his cell and play when the other prisoners were outside. Al Capone’s mind was starting to snap. There were times when he would refuse to leave his cell to go to the mess hall to eat. Sometimes he would crouchin the corner of his cell and babble to himself. Inmates also recalled that sometimes Capone would stay in his cell and make his bunk over and over again. He spent the last of his time at Alcatraz in the hospital ward as he was being treated for the advanced form of syphilis. This is also another reason why his mind was slipping away.

But was Al Capone haunted by the spirit of a Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre victim?

Inmates and guards a like also claimed that Capone would talk out loud to himself, or at least so it would seem. Was he talking to himself or a spirit? After his release, Capone stayed out of the limelight staying at his mansion in Beach. It was said that he spent the next eight years wavering between lucidity and psychosis. Some believe that it may have been the ghost who actually drove Capone to insanity. However it could of easily been his physical illness that was effecting his mental health, although it is said that he complained about being haunted by a ghost long before his mental health issues.

While Capone had once killed off most of his enemies, he could not get rid of one of the spirits. It was the ghost of James Clark, the brother-in-law of Bugs Moran and a St. Valentine's Day Massacre victim, who Capone claimed hounded him from 1929 to his grave. There were many times when Capone's employees would hear him begging for the ghost to leave him in peace... and this was in his lucid pre-Alcatraz days. On several occasions, his bodyguards broke into his rooms, fearing that someone had gotten to Capone, only to have their boss tell them of Clark's ghost.

Did Capone have a conscious? Did his mind create this spirit out of some sort of guilt that he felt? Or maybe it was the result of drug taking and drinking?

If the ghost was created out of Capone's madness then why did he contact a psychic named Alice Britt to get rid of the ghost; years before the ravages of the disease would affect his mind?

Many believe the ghost of James Clark followed Capone to his grave. The ex- of Chicago died on January 25, 1947 of bronchial pneumonia and a brain haemorrhage in . He was returned to Chicago and buried in Mt. Olivet Cemetery. Later, he was moved in secret to Mt. Carmel Cemetery, where he remains today.

Prey of the

Eyeless By lee A Forman

Beneath the stars I entered the forest, machete unsheathed. The idea of a gun rejected early in my search. It wasn’t personal enough. I wanted to sever its ability to escape and run my hand over its face—it had no eyes; I wanted to make sure it could see me. I needed it to know it was me who consigned it to death.

I pondered the irony of where the hunt would end. Years I searched to unmask the hidden wretch, my obsession. In that time I encountered many a sinful beast, but none so horrible as the eyeless thing that took my wife. Meryl’s expression held elegance even in shock, as its shiny, coal-dark arm wrapped around her throat and took her forever.

I sought out urban legends, overheard rumours in bar conversations, asked questions no sane person would dare. But none of the things I hunted turned out to be her abductor. I kept notes, made sketches, documented the unknown horrors that live in the wild. Parents tell you monsters aren’t real, but the wisdom of a child knows no suppression.

Would peace come of its destruction? Has it come to the victims of other felled nightmares? Maybe. Either way, I needed my closure.

As I stealthily navigated the woods I felt dreams and nightmares within my grasp, burning cinders of pain and hate. I’d scar my flesh just to be close; die to touch it. My hands trembled, heart pumped excited blood. A grin spread my chapped lips—I was closer than ever before. Every few steps I stopped to listen for movement. It was no ignorant beast I pursued; it was another hunter, just as cunning as myself, if not more.

A rustle to the side caught my breath. It seemed a deliberate tactic; a ruse to draw me in. So I kept still. It was trying to locate me. I waited, and my patience won out. I heard it stalking through the brush and followed silent as the night.

Flashes of Meryl’s terrified eyes drove nails into my heart, but I pulled them out and left them behind. I had to focus on my prey, else I’d become it.

Excitement turned to fear when I felt hot breath against the back of my neck. Somehow it tricked me. Somehow it won. In a last-ditch effort I turned and swung my blade with blind aim, but its slender fingers caught my wrist.

Its black, featureless face moved close to mine. The ebon flesh receded from its skull. From within came rows of pointed teeth. Its entire head snapped like the muzzle of an enraged mongrel. The serrated maw engulfed my skull but the teeth didn’t penetrate, only held firm against my throat. From deep within its gut, a meaty appendage extended and lodged itself in my oesophagus. I bit with force, hoping to do whatever damage I could before it killed me. But the flesh was too fibrous; my human teeth did nothing. It shoved itself further into my abdomen; I choked against the thick, sausage-like tube. All I wanted was to scream in pain, to release…anything.

But I could only writhe in agony while my chest hitched in a struggle for life. DOOMSDAY

RAIDER By David Holmes

Night was starting to fall in the woods….a bad thing out here. Wet snow swirled down from the darkening skies like a menacing swarm of large white horseflies, dogging the solitary figure, stinging his brown cheeks numb with icy barbed tongues while clinging annoyingly to his goggles, obscuring his vision, but at least he was warm, buried deep inside his caribou parka and leggings as he was. The deep drifts waved across the forest bed, it’s deep sucking snow made it an effort to walk through; his steamy breath filled the air, accentuating every step, giving him the appearance of a steam powered soldier, marching robotically off to war…he smirked to himself at the irony, because that’s exactly what he was…not a machine of course…but a man, a soldier in an army of one. He wore his gear... a backpack with dried rations and water, a Winchester Model 70 slung over his shoulders, a Jarhead clipped blade sheathed on his right hip, and a fighting tomahawk on his left... like some people wore religious symbols, their weight against his body filled him with comfort and determination, if not hope, as he marched on to stay alive one more day at the end of all days.

The solitary figure stopped suddenly in mid stride, held his breath, and listened to the howling winds, or rather.....the howling IN the wind. They were growing louder now…the moans…and more distinct, like asthmatics beasts gasping for air through clogged throats and nostrils. There were three of them….and now he could begin to make out their features when they slowly emerged from the tree line ahead. The first, a man, he could have been his traveling companion the way he was dressed: thick fur coat and pants, thick snow boots, and the coat’s hood drawn up over its head; almost the mirror of him… save his ‘reflection’ was covered in places with dried blackish-brown blood and shambled along with a decayed stump of an arm dangling useless by mere strands of rotted muscle cord at its side. The other two were female. The taller one was dressed in tattered blood stained rags, probably a beautiful flower print house dress once…a middle aged house wife.

If he hazard to guess…her thin, blackened arms and legs bare and unfeeling against the howling cold. The last one, the smallest, stumbled and fell a lot, tripped up by snow that was almost knee deep to it; it was a petite tweenager, no older than fourteen, with only what was once a white training bra for a top and red boxers on….a savage gaping wound the size of a basketball could be seen under her right arm where tendrils of rotting, shriveled intestine hung stiffly at her side like a frozen sash. Onward they shambled along, unaware of his presence, but moving closer to the lone figure none the less. Slowly he reached for the ice hammer that hung on his left leg, calculating his plan of attack….that’s when he heard the gunshot, off to his right behind a cops of trees; the zombies heard it too and charged off to investigate with carnivorous interest!

Lethargic groans turned to gurgling growls and the ghoulish family of three with renewed energy quickly closed the distance to the sound’s origin. “Oh, my GOD, Amy! Why didn’t you let them pass first?!?”, came a high pitched wail from a hooded parka wearing figure breaking cover to run. “Kyle, get back here! We can still take ‘em!”, shouted a second figure emerging into view….a woman… fumbling frantically with a gun. The silent observer watched the outback zombie split off to close ranks on the wailing figure…a man…who fell face first in the slippery snow and flailed around uselessly in an unsuccessfully attempt to get up; the tweener wailed in frustration as it too fell and struggled against the high snows trying to keep up with the dead house wife who was closing in on the woman. His choice made, the Observer ran to help the man who was now screaming at the top of his lungs and kicking desperately at rotted, clawing hands. “Shut up, you fool! You’ll draw more!”; he grabbed the deader by the hood, exposing the head, as the flashing tomahawk sliced through the gangrenous pate with a dull, ‘thuk’, splitting the skull like an overripe melon and releasing a nauseating stench that made the guy in the snow retch before the wind carried the fumes away. Two shots rang out from behind; the Observer whirled around in time to see the woman put down the struggling tweener with a third shot square in the forehead, the housewifer lay motionless at her feet. The woman stared at the bodies, panting heavily for a moment before kicking one in frustration, “Lousy FUCKS!”, and turning her attention and gun in the direction of the lone figure, who was now armed with his cocked rifle…and already aimed...right at her.

“Oh, my god; you saved my life, man…our lives…!”.

“I told you before to shut up. Get over there with your friend and put your hands where I can see them.”, barked their rescuer, “And the same to you, miss, after you drop the gun and step away slow. Move…!”.

The woman hesitantly dropped the weapon and slowly took a few steps back, her frightened partner falling in beside her, hands high; their captor cautiously retrieved the gun and placed it in his hip pocket, making sure to keep his eyes on them.

“Now hold on a minute; what if there are more of those…things… around here? We’re defenceless!”, the woman blurted.

“Uh, huh…”, was the Observers only reply; he couldn’t make out their features clearly because they were obscured by the hoods they wore and the blowing snow, but the woman sounded like she was in her mid-thirties and, if he was any judge of character, used to having her way; the guy, on the other hand, was not used to having his way and likewise sounded 30ish. “Are you bit? No? Okay, who are you people and what do you want? And be quick on the answers, we’re losing daylight out here….you don’t want to lose the light.”

“Relax! Relax, man!!”, pleaded the guy who was shaking more from fear than the cold, “We don’t want any trouble”, he rattled on desperately, “Look, we’ve been making our way North for several weeks now with some others and got trapped in town some miles back when our ride broke down; we…we… barely made it out alive, for god’s sake!”

“That how it go down, miss?”

“Pretty much…”, the lady replied in a cool, level tone, “We all got holed up in a auto garage trying to scavenge for parts; food and water ran out, people got desperate, and we decided to try and make a break for it. It….didn’t go so well. Can we lower our hands, or do you want to see some damn, I.D. now!”

The Rescuer allowed himself a brief grin, “Sorry.”, he offered, lowering his gun (Almost all the way, the woman noted.), “You can’t be too careful nowadays…but you two already know that, I’m sure. Alright, I guess we’re finished here. There’s a highway east of here, I’d avoid it if I were you, too many deaders; good luck.”, with that, The mysterious stranger began walking away.

“Wait! What are you doing?!?”, the woman demanded, “You can’t just leave us out here, you took my gun and it’s almost dark for chrissake!”

“She’s right! You can’t leave us like this we won’t survive the night!”, argued her companion, “Please..! We’re begging you…!”

The stranger looked hard at them for a few seconds, deciding, while the sun continued it’s slow decent over the horizon, the last dregs of daylight fading fast and ghostly night advancing with the wind bellowing ever louder, playing tricks on already frayed minds.

“Alright. I’ll take you in…for tonight; but I keep the gun and any bullets you have as payment for saving your boyfriend there and you go on your way in the morning; take it or leave it.”

“Fine, whatever you want.”, her companion blurted out before she could object.

“Keep up then, you fall behind, you’re on your own….”

The trek back, while not long, was hard going in the increasing gloom of night with each step taken in the calf deep sucking snow a test of strength and fighting the biting wind a testament of endurance with distant moans and howls of more than just the night winds spurring them on. Eventually they arrived to find the Rescuer’s cabin to be small, but impressive because it was made of stone and built into the side of a cliff; there were no longer any windows, the two that used to be present having long since been sealed with stone and mortar, the door was made of some sort of thick metal built into the frame that slid open easily on well concealed rollers once it’s owner quickly unlocked it in a fashion the woman and her companion were unable to see since he used his large frame to block their view. Once inside, their host slid close the solid door, bolting it with a comforting ‘Clack’ sound; the interior glowed into view seconds later from a hand held battery lamp sitting on the floor by the door. Four stone steps led down into a circular, sunken living room that had an unlit fireplace built into the far left wall and furnished with deep red and brown plush throw rugs covering most of the varnished hard wood floor; a natural wood grained cabinet stood against the right wall and another closed metal door stood opposite the entrance against the back wall. Cinnamon and lavender scents filled the air.

“Thank-you-Jesus; a place that finally doesn’t smell like rotten meat!”, the woman exclaimed; as she removed her parka her features became clearly visible for the first time. She was Asian, Filipino maybe, given her lightly bronzed tone and brown, almond shaped eyes; her long dark hair was tied in a bun; she was very fit and moved with the arrogance of an athlete used to winning and being the alpha on the court. Her companion was blond haired with blue eyes and while also fit, seemed more like the type used to having his mommy and daddy’s money do the talking for him.

“You two can sleep out her tonight, it’s chilly I know, but it’s better than outside.”

“Thanks. I’m Amy by the way,”, and nodding to her companion, “This is my husband, Kyle…”

“Hi…”, Kyle offered weakly, extending his hand to their benefactor who left it .

You’ll leave in the morning. There’s a bucket with a lid, some bottles of water, and a roll of toilet paper in the cabinet there in case you need it; be sure to close the lid tight when you’re done and wash it out before you leave.”

“This is the part where you introduce yourself,”, Amy quipped sharply.

The man stiffened for second then let out a deep sigh and a grin, shaking his head, “Alright, if it makes you feel any better, the name’s Ben.”

“Thanks…’Ben’…,,”, Amy offered, more relaxed and smiling a little herself now. Ben was an older man…with smooth medium brown skin, probably in his late 50’s, early 60’s Amy surmised, with a salt and pepper beard and silver gray hair…crew cut styled; he was muscular though despite his age, and from the way his body moved and how he handled himself out in the woods, it was obvious he was no stranger to danger and used to being on his guard. “Look, you been more than kind, but do you think you can spare some food along with that water?”

“Yes, please!”, chimed in Kyle, “It’s been two days since we had anything!”

“Food’s not a luxury; it doesn’t grow on trees….but I’ll see what I can do; you, girl come with me and bring the rest of the ammo for your gun; your man stays put.”

Amy cautiously followed Ben through the inner sliding door….and was floored by what she saw. The interior room was twice as large as the living room and carved right into the cliff side with a small alcove to the right that housed a shower and toilet, to the left, another door stood with a combination lock built into it; the whole inner chamber was lit with electric ceiling lights powered by an indoor generator that hummed softly in the corner,

“Why the hell are you wasting your generator like….!”

“Like I don’t need to worry about it? Because I don’t…not really; up above us, on the cliff face there? Solar Panels and wind mills…out of reach of most people and deaders…generating electricity with banks of hidden batteries to store it all; I have power to spare.”

“No shit.”, Amy stated, incredulous, “And the water?”

Ben tucked the rifle, handgun, and ammo she now gave him away in a metal weapon’s locker standing in the corner and secured it with a combination padlock, “Connected to an underground spring and cleaned through a recycling system, if you must know; let me get you that food, it’s getting late.”

Ben led her to the door with the combination lock and after deftly and secretly working the code into it’s whirling and clicking tumblers, slid open the door to reveal a long rectangular room, the flick of switch on the inner wall showcasing shelves and airtight storage bins, from floor to ceiling, lining both the walls on either side…Jars of peaches and apple preserves stood in neat rows like silent observers on one shelf, canned potatoes and spinach on another; bags of brown rice rice caught her eye, the scent of dried nuts, fruits, and beans titillated her nose, but it was the discovery of two items in particular that beat out all the others…

”Canned chicken….and Chocolate bars! Oh, my god, you have Chocolate! I’ll take these…!”

“You’ll take, this…”, Ben interrupted matter-of-factly, offering a medium sized dark stained jar with a worn label with two barley legible words scrawled on it….’Pickled Okra’

“You gotta be fucking kidding me! Why give us that when you have all this!?!”, Amy exclaimed incredulously, indicating the store room with its treasure trove of edibles.

“That’s right! I have all this, ‘Ben raged back, “foraged for by me at great risk….almost at the cost of my life and worse on occasion….and held on to because of enormous self-control. Why? Because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring…or NOT bring! That can of chicken you want so badly can feed me for three…maybe four days…why should I give my shit away?”

“Alright, relax…”, Amy said hurriedly, her hands raised submissively, “Relax, Ben…I’m…I’m not trying to take anything of yours….”, and then in a low, soft voice, smiling flirtatiously, “At least not for free anyways….”

“I’m…w-what now?”, he stammered, caught off guard for the first time since running into the pair.

She sidled up close to him and squeezed his arm reassuringly, “It’s like you said, food’s a luxury….but it’s not the only thing in short supply, you know what I’m saying here? Maybe...maybe we can work something out?”

“Aren’t you married? What about your husband??”, Ben questioned…suspicious…but unable to stop himself from wondering about the possibilities.

“Hey, you let me worry about that…We have a deal, baby?”, her hand now caressing his chest affectionately.

“Maybe…That’s my last can of chicken though, so that means you and I split it…alone. You can keep the pickled okra and a chocolate bar for yourself.”, he held out the jar to her, “That’s the offer.”

They regarded one another for a long tense moment, like merchants trying to get the upper hand on a deal of a lifetime; in the end Amy blinked first, accepting the jar….and the offer…before going out to talk with her spouse.

“Here, there’s only enough for one of us, so you take it.”

“Fucking okra?!? You shittin’ me, right? I can’t eat this slimy crap!”

“Don’t start, Kyle, be lucky he gave us that!”, she cracked, letting her words sink in before continuing in a softer tone, “Hey, try to get some rest; I’m a go talk to Ben for a while, okay? He has some maps and I talked him into showing me a couple of routes.”

“A couple of routes, huh?”, Kyle’s voice was rife with sarcasm, “Uh, yeah, okay..this shit again?”

Amy ignored the remark and went back in to Ben’s room without so much as a backwards glance, sliding the door closed behind her.

End of part one Part two in issue thirteen The Accidental demon By Allisha McAdoo

Growing up people used to think you needed special books or symbols to summon a demon, I did it by accident. Imagine everyone’s disappointment know that just a regular person summoned a demon without a special chant, symbol or even knowledge of doing so. I was no one special, hell most of the time I did nothing but play video games. There was literally nothing special about me, everything about me was average. My height and weight were a little bit on the small scale. Even my eyes were the generic brown that didn’t really jump out and grab anyone’s attention. I had never broken a bone, obtained any sort of scar, never had any sort of fight. My existence was boring and to be honest, I was ok with that. I didn’t even play demonic video games, as far as I was concerned God and the devil didn’t exist. I couldn’t stand horror, or paranormal, or demonic things to be honest.No, the only thing I played were hidden object games; hours and hours of hidden object games. I barely even left the house most of the time, even convinced my parents to let me finish high school online they were only too happy to oblige, it was less of a hassle to them. I never had a girlfriend, but then again I didn’t want one. I was perfectly happy with my games and didn’t feel the need to mess things up with being in a relationship. I had watched my what little school friends I did have make mistake after mistake chasing after relationships. The only thing I ventured out of the house for, was beef jerky. There was a store just down the street from my house where I could get wholesale beef jerky. I enjoyed chewing on the petrified pieces of meat while I was playing my video games.

I figured at least I was getting some sort of protein into my normal diet so what was the harm in it? As cliche` as it sounds, I made the decision to go to the store on Halloween night. My beef jerky stash was running at the lowest it had ever been on the account that I spent a week sicker than a dog. Which was funny since I rarely left the house, so me getting sick was a bit of a surprise. I still felt pretty weak but decided I felt well enough to make the run. “Hey Andy, your beef jerky shipment just came in last week. We put it in the back room until you showed up for it.” The store clerk said cheerfully. I merely nodded and waited for him to go grab them, he said the same thing to me every time I went. We never said much to each other, it was more of an inconvenience than anything.

I paid for the beef jerky and shoved a sample piece of a new meat in my mouth. It was spicy but made me drool it was so good. “I want to order a case of your sample for next time.” I said savoring the small piece. The clerk nodded and filled out the order form, all this time I was coming here, I never did know his name. When he wasn’t looking I stole a fistful of the sample and began to stroll out of the store hiding it carefully in my hand. I left the store and shoveled another piece into my mouth. I never did figure out what sort of meat was used in the sample all I knew is that it was the best thing I had ever tasted. Walking back home slowly I watched children run across the streets in their costumes. I had never gone trick or treating, I didn’t see the need to do so. I didn’t really like candy so I usually just spent Halloweens inside the house.

I just happened to look down the street as I neared my door and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. She had fiery red hair that flowed down her back to her narrow hips that swayed in a hypnotic way. I realized that she was completely stark naked just strolling down the street. I had never seen such a beautiful body before, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Every movement she made her body seemed to be made from water.

She glided with her hips swaying to the beat of music that only she heard. I set my beef jerky box down on the porch and began to walk towards her. This was the most exercise I had done in a very long time and was almost winded when I reached her.

I offered her my long jacket as the wind picked up twirling her hair all around her which she took from me but dropped on the ground. I didn’t care about the jacket so I just left it there. Her hair was so red it looked like she was on fire. “Hi Andy.” She whispered with a voice that sounded like an air hose hissing. “How did you know my name?” I asked not being able to take my eyes off of her. She was so mesmerizing that I felt like my entire body was made from concrete. “Follow me.” She giggled. She licked her ruby red lips and I swear her green eyes seemed to flash. I muttered ok and began to follow her. Before I could blink an eye I had followed her right to the edge of town to Abreims Forest. I had never seen so many trees but I kept following her. Soon we were in the middle of the forest and I was winded from all the walking. She began to shake her naked hips like that music singer Shakira and I found myself joining her in her dance. My body was awkward and didn’t have the grace she did, but I didn’t want to stop. It almost felt romantic both of us dancing.

My body was starting to hurt and seize up with cramps but still I couldn’t stop. I pulled her to me for a kiss but instantly screamed. Her skin was as hot as lava and burned me. Dark red, purplish blisters erupted on my body where I had touched her and my shirt caught on fire. The more I screamed, the more she laughed. “Help me! I am on fire!” I cried not even ashamed of the fact that I had snot running out of my nose. She kept dancing this time faster and faster until she became a blur. “You belong to me now. “ She said quietly. The fire fizzled out and the ground began to sink beneath me. She hugged me tightly as we both began to descend into the ground.

I could see lava pits that had screaming people in them. “You are a demon?” I asked trying not to show how scared I was. “Of course love, you are the last one for my quota for the month.” She laughed. My skin started to crackle loudly as it slowly peeled off my bones from the heat. A bent man with a huge hump on his back collected my skin and put it into a beef jerky bag. Terrific, I was going to end up like my favorite snack, was my last thought as my bones soon caught fire. Surprisingly, even though most of my body caught fire I was still intact.

I was taken to a small room that mirrored my old room but instead of my beloved video games, I was forced to watch the news on a continuous loop. The news kept showing my parents worried sick about me as they gathered up my beef jerky box. Even the clerk from the store came over with the latest shipment that read spicy hunan, but the lettering made it look like the word human. I had disappeared on Halloween night and no one saw me ever again. My parents arranged searches crying and pleading with the cameras to return me safely. I lay on a tiny cot unable to move or blink watching them break down on national television and burned. With any luck maybe I would turn into a demon or something, there has to be more to hell than this. I kept thinking, but mostly all I do is watch the news crying silently, watching everyone I had ever loved age all around me. I was left to the hell my mind created without the usual stimulation of video games. Every once in a while the pile of burnt flesh piles up on the floor and the hunched back man returns to shove more into beef jerky bags.

More merchandise available AT www.livingparanormalmagazine.com

Fin

All artwork, articles and stories are the property of either the artist or Living Paranormal Magazine. Please contact us for more information.