@^ @f02@tc@cTHE PHANTASMA by RokDaZone @f00@t61. SETTING @t5Bogart-like beige hat. Conventionel tie. Long black trenchcoat. Fairly fashionable grey trousers. Conservative black shoes. "So, you want to get information about the case? O.k., You'll get'em." Dark short Cigarillo into thin pale lips. Fire. Center of 100 * 150 yards green field, surrounded by unidentifyable trees. High atmospheric humidity falling down as slight mist. Grey the sun covered by clouds. It is getting cold. "Won't you follow me Sir, will you? ... No, it's not far." Pressurized voice caused by deep inhalation of light grey smoke. Nicotin running in his blood. @^ @t5Concrete nervousity. "You see, Sir, it's of abnormality to find severe cases of ritual outbreaks in this region. Here, however, it's quite special." Voice shivering by unpleased flashback. About 55 years of socialized self confidently stoicism ruined by horror beyond the ordinary. @t62. JORDAN @t5It was a quite normal day, nothing special. I just went back from lunch into my office with a terrible taste of an old fishermans glove in my mouth - spaghetti bolognese. Even my lovely ex-woman has been a better cook and this means a lot (especially when it is me, saying this and not one of my @# @^ @t5slimy cousins at her 41. birthday party ). I was able to hear the telephone ringing when opening the door to the little room that I am allowed to call my OFFICE,but somehow there was something quite abnormal in it. A mood of urgency. I nearly was able to see the waves coming out of the small bell (in 1969 there were no melodically sinuswaveform beeps but those brainwarping chimes still remaining ) and these waves told me that there was something unpleasant going on, something that will force me to get out of my neat bureau in the fiveth floor of the local police headquarter. One last try to prevent any bad news:"Damned, Miss Birdie. I told you, I don't wanna be disturbed for the next..." Snappy voice clanging from the other side destroying my @^ @t5train of words, " Firstly, Comissioner Jordan wants to talk to you. He says it's urgent..." My head started hurting as everytime I hear this name. Jordan? This means trouble! " ... secondly, SIR, my name is NOT Birdie but Burgly, SIR." I was not in the right mood for discussions and therefore my rough,"Where's the difference?" abruptly stopped our nice chat. About 10 seconds later the door got opened and Jordan came in, as always wearing one of his unbelievable shrilling ties and his everlasting impertinent grin. "Hello, how'r ya doin'?" He shouted and my headache got worse: "Since you are here not that well." I replied, trying to create the impression of a funny remark. "Hey, still the same joke?" Before he was able to show another glamorous piece @# @^ @t5of his witty joke collection, I asked what was up. Suddenly his grin disappeared and his skin nearly got the same colour as the clouds outside. The story he then told me could have been taken directly out of one of those STEPHEN KING horror stories. @t63. THE FLEXIBLE BULLET @t5Headache grows an glowing needle rammed through my right eye directly into my brain. Now getting nearer to the small forest. Need cigarette badly, although having stopped smoking three years before. Margy told me some day you will die of cancer. The pain makes it difficult to think. "Sir, don't you feeling well?" He has not talked for five (ten, twenty?) minutes. "No, it'll be alright. The food at the cantine..." Laughing. @^ @t5Tells me, he knows how I'm feeling. Small leather-covered bottle. "Here, take this one. It shall help you." Warm explosion in my stomach. The pain reduces, but the effect won't last for long. Whiskey? Gin? I don't know. The only thing I know is that this could lead to my suspension. "... insanity is comparable to a flexible bullet." Awaking from a small journey aside. Lost my thin red line, but the very last expression made the way from my ears to the spheres of conscience, "What was that?" He repeated and somehow I realized the similarity to the case. Madness, the flexible bullet? A bullet in ones head may cause a lot of certain reactions - Dead is just one. "Hmm, it was Marianne Moore saying this first. Right?" Small signs of @# @^ @t5reflection on his face: "Don't know. I've read it in a book of STEPHEN KING." Stephen again? Well, I shall get used to it... @t64. BACK TO THE OFFICE... @t5After Jordan told me the whole story, I knew that there would be no way out of the case. This was too severe to give it in the hands of the "normal" police squad. This was top secret. Even the press got no single word about what happened in the forest and this as you probably know is indeed unusual, because normally the police is getting informed by the press and not the other way around. Therefore, I had to agree to do the job and you can believe me, I did not enjoy it. About 30 minutes later, I already sat in my car and drove to the place where @^ @t5the impossible happened to do what a bureaucrat can do, when he faces something beyond the ordinary: Big words but nothing effective. @t65. THE FOREST @t5Headaches got worse again. Stumbled. Fell. Saying,"Be careful, Sir,there are a lot of traps in here." Haha, already realized. Need break badly. The trees are still unidentifyable. The atmospheric humidity makes it difficult to breathe. Shadows getting longer. It will rain this night, I am quite assure. Just a few birdies are singing. Ma, where are the neat squirrels going to? Giggle. @t66. ROPES @t5After some further minutes of walking, we finally met an officer asking us @# @^ @t5for our permission to pass. He shows his identity card and we were allowed to pass. I really wondered why the people are standing far apart from the real centre of event and soon I got the answer. Although, I got prepared by Jordans formal information, the shock was unbelievable. Do not get me wrong, I am working for the state since 1951 and I thought that I got used to see torsos of murdered people, but this was quite special - as everything in this damned case. Later, I was told that only the doc, the photograph and of course some policeman were allowed to get nearer to the place of the ritual murder - and they all showed the same reaction as I did. Parts of human bodies and in two cases even the whole body were hanging in the trees like ill-mannered @^ @t5flowers, building a perverting contrast to the otherwise beautiful surrounding. Flashing blue lights from police cars made me realize the bloody ropes - holding arms and legs in the air just slightly moved by weak breezes - for a friction of a second. Blood on the ground. Blood on the trees. Blood on the improvisated altar, covering t he runes of nordic gods and small voodoo-like dolls. Flys, starting their dirty job on nearly unidentifyable heads. The smell of already rotting human flesh hit my stomach. The most horrifying impression - I got before running away to puke - was the poor guy, standing in the centre of this macabre celebration of death. He was leaning on a sharpened stem, rammed into the ground. Maybe leaning is the wrong @# @^ @t5expression, because in fact, the sharpened side was drilled through his throat directly into his brain which was now crusted around the hole in his skull. His eyes were glancing at me with an unspoken accusation: "Why, didn't you told them to stop. It hurts so bad. You had to protect me. Is there anyone out to help me. It hurts so bad. Why don't you take my captive bonds. Can anybody hear me. It hurts so bad-IT HURTS SO BAD!" This was the moment when I was not able to keep my mask of undestroyable selfconfidence anymore. I just turned around and ran away like a child, searching for protection by his mother, who will never fail. I ran about 100 metres, than stumbled and fell, got up again, ran and again stumbled and fell.My legs were @^ @t5aching.My head was near to explode. My stomach got the ventile for the overpressure inside my body and soon I was able to see, how spaghetti look like after 2 hours of digestion. Than I crawled to the next tree, bend myself into the embryonal deportment and waited for sleep to come. @t9TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT ISSUE... @t3>>> RokDaZone <<< @@