Weird find! Send help!

Posted on by inkbiotic

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“This letter is posted as I need to find someone who can report what is written below into freemasonry/Illuminati and get it stopped.”

Today, we were working in the garden outside a posh boys’ club. When it came to break time, Pola (our Polish agency worker) held up a sheet of typewritten paper and declared she’d found it wedged in the railing and was confused.

‘Is it a letter? What are they talking about? It doesn’t make any sense.’

I had a read. It was a letter, more specifically a desperate cry out to the world, stating that:

“A person called Jack [full name removed] is getting abused and having his brain and body destroyed by a growing unofficial Illuminati abuse network. They have wired him with all the Big man and old abuse technology.”

‘It reads like a schizophrenic,’ I said, ‘although there’s a contact number and email, so maybe it’s a joke.’

‘Stay away from it!’ declared my boss, firmly. ‘It sounds like trouble, just throw it away.’

“O.C. has subtly abused Jack with the technology since he was really young controlling him and messing him up and making him seem like a bad person while blocking him from Freemasonry and lying about him.”

Pola was about to chuck it, but I asked if I could have it. My boss gave me a what-is-wrong-with-you? stare. But unusual things are important, aren’t they? That’s where the secrets and stories are.

“The person who has caused this and caused this to happen is a person called O.C. [full name removed] who is a psychopath.”

So that’s it for now. Tomorrow, I shall post up the letter, with the various names blacked out. Sorry this is short and unhelpful, I didn’t sleep at all last night and I don’t have the nuggets necessary to research stuff and organise myself. Tomorrow, I promise. Until then, if any of you have come across something like this, please let me know.

Letter from the Damned

Posted on by inkbiotic

Dear Sam,

I don’t have much time so I’ll keep this brief. Last night I slept for thirteen hours, that’s the longest yet. If I keep going like this, soon I won’t have to wake up at all. My phone has wracked up seven messages while I slept – I know most of them will be from my boss since I missed my shift this morning. It’s difficult to care.

You wanted to know what’s going on with me, you’re not the only one, but you’re the only one that might actually understand, I hope you can. The truth is, I started having these bizarre dreams about a year ago. Every night I would dream that these shadowy demon figures were gathered around my bed, just watching me. Nothing about them was clearly defined, even their eyes were dark hollows, and then when they moved I could see darker streaks shifting like muscles beneath the smoky nothingness. Sometimes they would talk, but I couldn’t understand them. Sometimes they would prod me, even lift up bits of my body, and I was powerless to stop them. I didn’t know if they were bad or good, or what they wanted from me.,  I’ve never talked about it, because you’d have all thought I was crazy, sometimes I’ve thought I’m crazy too. And I kept thinking about them all day, just wanting an explanation, a plan, anything. And then I heard about lucid dreaming. In fact I read a blog about it, about how you could just take control of your dreams, kind of be conscious while in that dreamworld. I thought if I did that I could get them to speak in English, I could get up and prod them.

Like I say, I was never really sure that they were bad, they didn’t do anything nasty, but we’re taught to be suspicious of mysterious shadowy demon figures, they’re in so many horror stories, aren’t they? So when I started the lucid dreaming – writing notes to myself to stay awake, training myself to be kind of conscious while asleep – I was also getting ready to fight them. But they didn’t need to be fought. It turned out they had only come to visit and were working out how to communicate with me. Once I was able to get up and talk to them, it was pretty simple.

“You didn’t respond,” one said, speaking clearly, it turns out they hadn’t known I was English.

“It was as if you weren’t properly there at all,” said another.

“Well, I guess I wasn’t, that’s what dreaming is for us, usually,” I said.

“Ah,” they all said in thoughtful unison, they’re really very mellow. Sometimes we just sit in silence, it’s peaceful, I’ve never really known that kind of peace before.

Thirteen hours doesn’t last long in their world. We have time for a game of chess, a chat about what I’ve been up to and then I wake up. It’s been going on for a few weeks, and it’s made me realise: waking life is such a drag. No offence, but all the rush and the needless drama, I’m sick of it. I want to be where my demon friends are (that’s what they say they are, but demons aren’t bad in the dream world) but it’s ok, because I’m getting there. Each night I’m staying longer, each day becomes more of a token visit. Soon I won’t have to wake up at all.

So that’s what’s been going on. Look after yourself Sam, you’re one of the good guys. If you don’t see me around anymore, then you’ll know where I am.

Joe