The Houston Files: Fact or Hoax?

 

The Houston Files: Fact or Hoax?

Aug 4, 2016 

Greetings friends, I want to share with you while I can a story that has been forced upon me by various happenstance. I shake steadily as I attempt to put this to paper. I sleep little, and find no peace these days, but the story must be told. I must put this forth before I am overcome so that others might be warned of what lies beneath us. I will begin at the beginning…

I have lived in Texas my whole life, mostly West Texas, but all over the state at various times. About twelve years ago I was working in the home reclamation business in the Houston area near Sugarland, north of the city. We got the keys to a couple of abandoned homes on Clodine road and so we headed out. My partner that day was Jack Mason, an older man who knew the area well. Jack was old school, lean, leathery skinned and an ex-army sergeant. He dressed in overalls, with a white t-shirt underneath, a can of skoal snuff in the chest pocket of his bib. He spoke with a Cajun drawl, and most disconcerting to me, he had an odd eye. His left eye, it seemed to protrude slightly and was covered in a greenish white film. I did my best not to stare.

I had just met Jack a couple of days before we got the job. I had been working out in Odessa Texas when I got a call from Thomas Mann to come out to Houston. Thomas was an old family friend who kept up with me and offered me good work from time to time. More about Thomas later.

So, we rumbled down the road through Houston traffic in Jack's 80's model Ford pickup. I swear that truck looked like it was held together with tape and bailing wire. The day was hot and muggy even though it was early, around 8:30am, we stopped to pick up a trailer then headed to Clodine.

We arrived at the first house around 9:15 and set about gutting it. Our business was to totally strip the house, so that Thomas could send in folks to renovate it and then resell it. We went in room by room and starting with any furniture, then appliances, then fixtures, then carpet and drapes, we gutted the place. Anything that the previous tenant left behind was fair game. Most furniture and appliances could be refurbished and sold off, everything else went to the junkyard. The exception to all of this was minor possessions, a forgotten watch, the odd piece of silverware, books, movies, toys, etc. These items would often "disappear", as reclaimers would keep them as a boon for their hard work.

And hard work it was. Clearing an old house, in Houston heat and humidity, no electricity, no fans, plus the houses were often old, dusty, full of mildew and cat shit, so it always made for hard, nasty work. Our first house took us until nearly 2pm to finish, so we stopped for some lunch and then headed to house number two. This one was further down towards the more industrial part of town. It was a small one bedroom, with an attached workroom/shed. I was happy to see that it was smaller, as the humidity was really getting to me.

As we pulled up a strange smell assaulted me, a watery, putrid, almost acidic odor. As I exited the truck I stumbled, dizziness assailed me, and I had to lean against the door to keep from falling. "Y'all rawt man?" Jack asked as I tried to keep upright. "Yeah, just got lightheaded, I'm alright." I said with no conviction. "Ya need some water boss, this here heat'll kill a man who ain't used to it." I nodded, the smell seemed to fade, and my balance returned. I made my way to the truck bed and the big aluminum watering can. I drank about 5 paper cone cups full of Lukewarm water. Jack was stuffing his lip with skoal, as he looked at me. "Yont a dippa snuff boss?, it'll put the bounce back in yer step." He offered me the open can. I shook my head, "no, thanks Jack but I think I'm good to go."

We grabbed our tools and headed for the house. The next thing that struck me weird was the yard. A short pipe fence surrounded the house on all sides. It appeared to have been painted white at one time but had seen a lot of abuse, it appeared to have been regularly used by graffiti artists as it was covered with symbols and words etched into the old paint. A lot of these old abandoned houses end up as clubhouses and make out spots for the local teenagers. We stepped inside the fence and my boot sunk a half inch into the grass and mud. The ground all inside the fence seemed to be swampy. "Hey Jack, is this normal?" I said as my boot made sucking noises as I pulled it from the mud. "Ain't rained inna couple days, maybe there was a water main bust sommers." he said this as he nonchalantly stepped around me onto a flagstone path. I freed myself from the muck and followed him in.

The interior of the house was no better. The floors were covered in a half inch of water, and the smell of rotting carpet and wood was only made worse by the swarms of mosquitoes we stirred up. The only saving grace was that there was little furniture and only a few rusty appliances. Jack took it all in and then waved a leathery hand at me. "I'll start workin in here, you go checkat shed and see what's there." I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, anything to get me out of this hell hole.

I went back outside and found that the flagstones branched off and went around the side of the house to the shed door. The door was off it's upper hinge and just hung open slightly. I pushed it in and the entire door fell into the room, making me jump back, startled. As I did several small black snakes fled across my feet and into the yard, I panicked slightly and let out a yelp. I heard Jack hollering from the house, "You alright out dere Wesstexas?" I glanced around looking for the snakes, but they had vanished. "Yeah, I'm cool!" I yelled back, not feeling cool at all. Jack mumbled something but I ignored it and ducked inside the shed.

The interior of the shed was pitch black as it had no windows. I flicked on my flashlight and could make out the interior of this roughly ten by ten room. A cot, rotten and torn, a couple of small tables with mildewed papers scattered on them, an old army style footlocker and a concrete slab with what appeared to be a steel hatch cover in it. A heavy chain and pad lock sealed the hatch. The floor here was also water covered, but the water seemed black and oily, either because it was, or it appeared so because of the dim lighting. The acid stench suddenly became overwhelming and I wretched a few times before I could calm myself. I was considering bolting, but I wanted to see what was in the chest. Perhaps it has some small treasure to make this nasty job a little more worthwhile?

I got myself calm and started breathing through my mouth. I squatted next to the trunk and managed to pry it open. Inside I saw, in the top tray a tarnished Zippo lighter, several empty pints of whiskey plus one unopened bottle, and a box of swisher sweets cigars. I pocketed the lighter and pint of whiskey, but the cigars were mildewed. I pulled out the tray, which mostly fell apart, and underneath was stuffed with papers. Mostly maps, blueprints or what have you, by the look of them. I continued digging tossing the papers in the cot. Beneath them I found a book, a leather-bound journal. A faded sticker on the cover read, " Houston files, my story, by E. Feldman." I had no interest in the book, so I put it back and prepared to leave. There wasn't much to clean in here, so I decided to go help Jack, but as I turned to leave, and I shit you not, I heard breathing, right behind me. My hair stood on end and I instantly felt freezing cold. I felt paralyzed, like I couldn't breathe, or speak or run, then an even colder sensation, like a cold finger ran up my back around my neck and across my face. Then, everything went black.

Jack said he found me by the truck, slumped over with my upper body on the passenger seat, but I don't remember getting there. He gave me water and a salt pill and drove me back to Thomas' warehouse. They told me to rest, I had had heat stroke. So I propped myself on the couch in Thomas' lounge and ate pickles and drank kool aid and I started to feel better. Thomas and Jack had gone out to unload the truck while I rested, so I sat alone recuperating. It was then I noticed it, the feel of cool leather in my hands. I guess I had been holding it the whole time, but I am sure I put it back in the chest. But there it was, in my hands, it's leather cracked but the tag still firmly attached. I started shaking again, sipped some kool aid and took a breath. I flipped open the cover and saw a note scrawled in jittery writing, on the inside cover.

June 18, 1974

My name is Eric Feldman and I am of sound mind, at least now. What I have written here is my record of the strange events that surrounded the building of the gulf freeway, interstate 45. What I saw, and what saw me, I must make clear before I die. There is something below us, something inside us. Whatever they are I have fended them off for nearly two years, but I am tired now. They know I know, and I know they are coming again, the water is back. I'm not going to fight this time. Just gonna drink some whiskey and sleep.

I know the names.

Aug 16, 2016

I'll say now that I have a hard time telling this story. I have spent twelve years trying to forget it, but I feel like if I don't tell it now, I might never. I needed a place that wasn't going to judge me, and this place seems the best bet. I know a lot of stories get told here, and many are strange and frightening, so maybe this one will fit in and perhaps give warning of what’s out there. Assuming I'm not crazy and this is for real.

I don't remember much about the rest of that day. Thomas and Jack finished unloading and came in to find me napping on the couch. Thomas gave me the next day off and told me to rest and get acclimated to the Houston weather. He drove me back to my motel, a cheap rat hole off of I-45. I lay in bed watching baseball that evening and trying to grasp what happened at the shed. Finally, I gave up and remembered the pint of whiskey I had claimed. I cracked open the glass bottle, and poured myself a glass, then another and finally drifted off to sleep.

The wakeup call I had requested came at 7am, but since I was off for the day, I just hung up the phone and rolled over and went back to sleep. I jerked awake about 11:15 am, concerned I had missed work, then remembered and relaxed a bit. I decided to get out of bed and look for some lunch but as I started to move, I felt something heavy on my feet. I sat up partially and could see a mass of black laying across my feet and the end of the bed. At first it just seemed like a blanket or jacket, but I had put neither there the night before. I shifted slightly and the mass moved. A sleek black scaled face, glassy black eyes reflecting alien thoughts stared at me. The snake must have been at least twelve feet long, and its head rested between my feet, staring coldly in my face. I froze, being from West Texas I had learned a strong respect for snakes at an early age. "Don't move." I thought, "and it will go away." But that is not what happened. It moved, but not away. It slowly moved up between my legs, never taking its eyes off mine. I swear I could hear it breathing. My heart was racing, and I felt the adrenaline pumping. I jumped directly off the bed and rolled up into a low squat in the floor. The snake was gone.

I awoke, and the clock said it was 11:15. I quickly glanced at my feet, but nothing was there. I shook off the dream and got up. A quick shower and I found myself walking a couple of blocks down to a waffle house. A few bucks for a decent breakfast and I made my way back to my motel room. I had a whole day to do nothing, so I decided to read a bit of the leather book I had acquired. I had left the book lying on the side table when I had left, but when I returned to the room it was on the bed. "Strange." I thought and picked it up. A cold chill ran up my back and I could faintly smell the acid smell form yesterday. I tossed the book back on the bed. My head reeled from the strange smell, and the memory of the dream was still fresh. I stared at the book as it lay there. Did I really want to read it? I stepped out of the room and walked down to the corner store, I grabbed a bottle of soda and some chips to snack on.

Upon returning to the room I grabbed the book and a cup of ice and changed into some swim trunks. I decided that if I am going to read this book, I will need full daylight, and people around to make me feel a little better. I walked out to the pool and found a lounge chair. I made myself at home their and flipped open the cover, smelling the old, stained paper and hearing the creak of the dry leather.

The first part of the book seemed pretty sane. After the note on the inside cover, the first several pages where dated from August of 1970. Eric Feldman had been in the Marines and had served two tours in Vietnam as a recon specialist. The journal was a way for him to deal with his demons, as his therapist had said. He had joined the Marines as a fresh-faced kid of eighteen in 1969, signed up because he didn't want to be drafted. He trained at Parris Island, South Carolina and did well in the military life. During his two tours he saw combat on several occasions and was eventually wounded and sent home on May 5th, 1971.

After returning to Texas he attempted going to college for a business degree but dropped out after the first semester. He felt like college wasn't for him. He ended up in Beeville Texas with three dollars in his pocket and no plans or assistance. Now this part here really tells you the character of this guy, Eric Feldman, so I am gonna just transcribe what he wrote, so you get a good picture of who he was.

I had landed in Beeville after leaving Corpus Christi because that’s all the ticket money I had. I had saved myself back three dollars and knew I would need a job quick. So as soon as I got off the bus I started looking around. I found a diner down a half mile or so from the bus stop and went inside. The waitress was named Betty and she was a fox. We made eyes at each other as I ordered lunch and after I had eaten and paid, we talked a minute. She had grown up in Beeville, and her dad owned a construction outfit called Piebald and Sons. She was as sweet as honey and I knew that I had to take some time to get to know her. I told her that I was in town looking for work and she said her dad was needing hands. So I got the address from Betty and beat feet down to Piebald and Sons to get a job. Once I got there, I found a small building and lots of heavy equipment. I combed my hair and went inside. The old man inside look kinda gruff, no nonsense and so I strode right up and looked him in the eye. I asked for a job and he asked if I could load a dozer on a truck. I said sure, no problem (even though I had never drove a dozer or loaded one). He had me follow him out back and there set a dozer and a tractor trailer. I took a deep breath and climbed into the dozer cab. I glanced at the controls and decided to play around with them for a second. Didn't take me but a minute to figure out how they worked and within ten minutes I had that dozer on the back of that trailer. The old man hired me on the spot, and a shot at gettin to know Betty had just blossomed.

The more I read about E. Feldman the more I liked the guy. I had been worried that the book contained, I don't know, some weird stuff, but so far it was pretty decent, and I felt happy for Feldman and his turn of luck. I sat by the pool for a couple of hours reading, then had a short swim. Ended up going back to the room and napping until later that evening. Went down to the nearby burger King for some supper and then back to the motel to have a few more drinks and then sleep for the night.

The next morning found me back at Thomas' warehouse and heading out again with Jack. We were going back to Clodine to finish dealing with the shed house and we had two others lined up in Houston proper for later in the day. Jack seemed concerned as I climbed into the truck. "You awright Wesstexas? I don't need you dropping on me again today youngun." I winked at Jack, "I am fine today, some rest and some whiskey and I'm a new man." He seemed to like that answer and we drove the rest of the way to Clodine in silence.

As we got closer to our destination I began to feel off, just a little at first, but the feeling built until it was full on anxiety by the time we arrived. As we pulled up at the residence, I could feel my heart beating a mile a minute, but I took a deep breath and kept my nervousness hidden from Jack. He hopped out and got the dollie. "Lets get them 'pliances outta the house first, then we can clear that shed." he ordered. I agreed and we spent the first half hour getting the rusted fridge and stove out of the house and onto the trailer. Jacked wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at me across the water jug, "I looked inat Shed yesterday and I figure we need to see what’s in that cellar, don't you?" His question was right on point as I had been wondering about the hatch since I was here last. "Sure." I said, but it’s got a chain and lock on it, not sure if we can get into it." I said, somewhat hoping we could not. Jack smiled and pulled up a pair of bolt cutters from the back of his truck. "I already done thought of that Wesstexas, ain't no chain gonna keep us out." He grinned so wide I could see the black snuff in his teeth. I grabbed the flashlight and we headed back into the shed.

The shed interior was just as I had left it, nasty and forlorn. we threw out the cot, tables and trunk and made room to get the dollie in if we needed it. Jack strained heavily at cutting the chain on the hatch but after several attempts it finally gave way and we were able to remove the chain and lock. The door was heavy and took both of us to open, the smell that came up form below I can only describe as pleasant. I know that sounds strange considering the surroundings and all, but it was true. The smell of expensive and often used incense drifted up the concrete stairwell that led down into the cellar. The room below was small, maybe twelve feet long by eight feet wide. Our lights revealed two bookcases on either side of the room and a small table against the far wall. The bookshelves held books and what appeared to be jars containing snakes...preserved...in something? I was feeling very anxious now, and even Jack seemed spooked. The table bore a rotting tablecloth of stars and moons, and upon it sat a brass bowl and a knife and some sand or dirt. On the wall behind the table where drawn weird pictures, symbols and words I could not read. The books on the shelves seemed to be about unusual topics like, the Bermuda triangle, ghosts, monsters and stuff like that. They definitely did not make me feel better about my current position. Jack broke the silence, "Hey Wesstexas, you ever seen anythin like this afore?" I shook my head, "Maybe inna horror movie." I said. Jack laughed and picked up one of the jars. "I done seen stuff like this in them Voodoo shops in Nawlins, smells the same too." My anxiety was getting the better of me and I told Jack that we needed to hurry up. He instructed me to empty the books into a trash bag and then we could carry the bookshelves upstairs. I was in no mood to argue so I did as he said.

Things seemed to be going fine until Jack was attempting to load several jars into a bag. He had just lifted one and was closely examining it when it seemed to slip from his hand. It hit the concrete floor with a crash and the small snake fell into the putrid water covering the floor. Jack seemed miffed that he had dropped the jar and began attempting to pick up the broken pieces. It was then that I noticed the movement. A quick flicker of agitation in the water, I reacted by attempting to push Jack away from the glass, but I instead forced him into a sitting position in the water. A small black snake struck towards his outstretched leg, at the open skin between his sock and overalls. It bit him, I thought, but then it seemed to just be disappearing into Jack's leg. He was screaming bloody murder and I lost my shit. I hate to say it but I ran, ran as fast as I could up those stairs and through the shed and out into the sunlight. I must have tripped and knocked myself silly, because I woke up lying face down in the muck. I felt drained and although I wanted to keep running, I had no energy. I lay there in the swelter and felt as if I was being sat upon by my fear.

I'm not sure how long I laid there, but the next thing I remember is someone grabbing my legs. I tried to turn over, but I felt sluggish and subdued. I could hear whistling, a tune, but slightly chaotic. I finally managed to turn my head up and I saw Jack dragging me by my legs towards the truck. He seemed deeply focused and was whistling this weird tune. I tried to mouth words, but nothing came and then he was lifting me into the passenger seat of the truck. I sat in stunned silence as he easily and quickly brought out the bookshelves single handedly and loaded them into the truck, he then went back and returned with the table and bowl. After a few minutes he climbed in the truck and we backed out and headed into town. The cool air seemed to bring back some of my energy and after a few minutes I was able to speak. "Hey Jack?" I said timidly. He glanced at me with his bulging eye. "Hey man, are you okay? It looked like that snake bit you." I said, looking down at his leg. He smiled a wry smile, a little longer than was comfortable. "Naw, don't you worry Wesstexas, that ol' snake was dead and didn't bite me at all. You just sit over there and relax, and we will get this load back to Thomas' place." I sat back in my seat. Somehow, I felt this was wrong, I couldn't understand what I had seen or felt, but it shook me to my bones. I leaned my head against the truck door and tried to push it out of my mind.

Oct 12, 2016

I hope you all can forgive the writing and bad composition. I am not a writer, or even that smart of a guy. I just have a story to tell and want to get it out. I work in the fast-food industry now and so I cannot write as often as I would like due to the long hours. The housing glut has forced me into work I don't like but I gotta pay the bills somehow. Anyways, I am gonna continue my story and I will try to keep things as organized as I can. Thank you for your patience.

Jack and I made it back to Thomas' place and took a couple of hours for unloading and lunch. I walked across the street to a little Mexican place inside a gas station. Got some damn good tacos and a Gatorade. I was feelin' bad about bailing on Jack and was trying to come up with a proper apology. I sat outside of the warehouse on a bench and ate my food. I had just finished when Thomas came out with a woman named Miriam Custer. She was a financier that helped keep Thomas' business afloat. They spoke for a minute and then Miriam left in her BMW.

I threw away my trash and was heading inside when Thomas stopped me. "Hey, you got any idea what’s up with Jack?" He said as he shot me a questioning look. "No, ...well...actually there was something that happened at the Clodine house, I pushed him down, I thought a snake was about to bite him." Thomas' eyebrows went up and his brow knit in thought. "A snake...did it bite him?" I shook my head, "No, I don't think so, it was preserved in a jar...I thought it looked like...maybe it...no I don't think it bit him." I said, wavering in my conviction of what I know I had seen. Thomas motioned me close, "Look, Jack is a man of habits, and every day he goes and gets some Whataburger and comes back and eats and then heads out. Today he has just been setting there, in his truck, waiting on you to get back. That is very unlike him. Keep an eye on him will ya?" He said this like a mother hen counting her chicks. I nodded, "Sure Thomas, Jack is a good guy, maybe he is just upset that I pushed him down? I will talk to him, it will be fine." I said this and conveniently left out the fact that I had acted cowardly. I felt like I knew exactly what was wrong.

I walked inside and went back to the loading bay. Sure enough, there was Jack just sitting in his truck. I hopped off the bay and walked over to the driver’s door. "Hey Jack." I said trying to keep a jovial tone. Jack didn't look at me, he just kept his gaze straight ahead. "Listen man, I'm sorry about back in the cellar over there. I just got freaked out man, you were hollerin' and I just took off. I'm sorry if I upset you?" He still did not turn to look at me in the face, but he spoke. "Dammit Wesstexas, why'd you do that...I felt like...you left me to die. I ain't no puss but shit man...I expected better of ya." I hung my head, I already felt bad, now I really felt like scum. "Jack, it ain't like that brother. I just had a weird day the other day and those snakes really got on my nerves. Are you sure it didn't bite you?" He finally turned to look at me, his face was grimaced, and the veins of his neck were standing out. He opened the truck door and slid his leg out and pulled up the overall leg. "See there Wesstexas, not a scratch." I looked down at his leg, and sure enough, it was fine. I didn't know what else to say. He slammed the truck door and faced forward again. "Get in boy, we still got work ta do." I did as he said and dropped the conversation, I didn't feel there was anything else I could say to make him feel better.

Our next house to clear was off of Eldridge East, and so we headed out. The drive there was relatively short and the house easy to deal with as it had very little to clean. After about an hour and a half there we headed out again to our third home for the day. Jack had maintained his silence throughout the job except for barking simple orders. I did notice a time or two where he seemed to be in pain, but he blew me off when I asked about it.

The final house was on further in town, off of Consuela drive. We were on the way there and Jack was continuing his silent treatment. I was getting anxious again, and so I finally had to speak. "Look, Jack, damit...I am sorry I ran out on you. I realize it was a cowardly move, but I just lost it man. This silent treatment crap is for kids. Can we just bury the hatchet?" I said this in a pretty warbly voice as I am not good at confrontation. Jack was quiet for a few more minutes, then he pulled up at a red light. He turned his head to look at me. His funky eye was bulging more than usual, a bit of red showing in the corner. He neck and face looked incredibly tensed. His mouth moved before any words came out. When he finally spoke his words were drawn, low, and erratic. "Wesstex...I...you gotta...I don't wanna..." His voice trailed as his hands shook on the steering wheel. A trickle of blood began to snake down his cheek as a crimson tear from his bad eye. I wasn't sure what to do. I raised my hands in mock surrender, "Look if you don't wanna talk about it that's fine. Let’s just get our job done." I hoped to try to alleviate his tension but no such luck. He had his bottom lip tucked under his teeth and I could see, hear, him bite through it. Blood ran down his chin and his good eye seemed to jump wildly in its socket. His mouth opened and I could barely make out his words. "Wes...wes...gotta do this...gotta stop this...you need to go...go...GO! The last word was a gurgling mess as blood erupted from his bad eye socket dropping a crimson ribbon across his cheek and into his lap. I swear I saw something dim and grey move underneath his skin near his right temple. I stammered, "No Jack, I am not going to go. This isn't...why are you bleeding? We need to go to a hosp..." My words trailed off into the squealing of tires as Jack gunned the truck through the red light. The old Ford was faster than she looked, and we sped away, steadily gaining speed. We cleared the intersection without incident, but Jack's head was hanging down now, as if he were sleeping. I grabbed for the wheel but could not move it as if Jack's strength were suddenly ten times my own. I glanced ahead, screaming at Jack to stop the whole time. I could see a curve coming up and cars where rushing to get out of our way. Horns were blaring and Jack seemed completely unconscious to it all. I remember trying the door right before we took the curb, it apparently didn't work.

The next thing I remember is a man in a striped shirt hollering in my face. His face looked very concerned. I tried to speak but my mouth seemed to be disconnected from my body. My eyes closed and then I woke up in a vehicle...an ambulance. The medic was asking me my name. I mumbled, incoherently and then closed my eyes again. I don't know how much time passed after that, but the next thing I remember is opening my eyes and staring at a white ceiling, a fluorescent light humming gently above me. I lifted my head and could see I was in a hospital bed. I had an IV in my arm and I could hear the soft beep of a heart monitor. The room I was in seemed dark and empty beyond that. I struggled to maintain my consciousness. I felt myself sliding back into oblivion, so I reached over and pinched myself hard. The shock of the pain brought me fully around. I forced myself into and sitting position as my brain fought for balance and lucidity. I took a few deep breathes and finally found the call button. I pressed it multiple times.

I didn't have to wait long for a response. A slight dark-skinned woman appeared in my doorway; she wore a nurse’s uniform. "Can you tell me what happened? Why am I here?" I was full of questions and out of patience. She gave me a smile. "I'm surprised you're awake, how are you feeling?" I gave a slight nod. "I will feel a lot better when you tell me what happened." My clarity was returning, and I felt aggressive. She shook her head and feigned a certain sadness that I took to mean only one thing. "Jack...he's dead, isn't he?" I asked with some assurance. She put her hand on my covered leg and looked at the floor. "Yes, your friend didn't make it, the EMT's said he died on impact." I lay back and just tried to keep my shit together. She asked me a few questions, name, date, bullshit...etc...etc. I didn't want to talk now, I just wanted to know what had killed Jack. She told me to rest, but that was the last thing on my mind. Jack was a down to earth kinda guy...not someone who would just flip and drive us into a tree. I could not wrap my head around this, it just did not make sense.

I don't know if she gave me drugs or I passed out on my own but when I opened my eyes again it was night. The light was off, and darkness hung outside my window. I could see light from the hallway outside my door. I lay there and stared at the ceiling. Okay, what did I know for sure? Jack was dead. I had seen the snake ... bite him? Go into him? I had seen...I had seen...none of it made any goddamn sense! I was angry, confused and currently in pain. My head was killing me, my chest and right shoulder were on fire and my right knee was pulsing in agony. "No!" I thought, "I cannot let the pain interfere with my thoughts, what the fuck has happened to me? Why is Jack dead?" I wanted to get up, to get out, to talk to someone about what I had seen, what I had felt. I sat up, forced the pain down and I was determined to get out of bed. I tried to move my legs, okay, they seem to work. I began to slowly shift them to the edge of the bed. That's when I heard the breathing. I knew it immediately, the anxiety welled in my chest and I couldn't breathe. I could feel the head of the snake, next to me in the bed. Its tongue slipped past my ear and its scales felt cool against my skin. "Resssst, manchild, resssst because we will need you ssssssooooon. Ressst and all your query's will be anssssswered." I tried to scream but everything faded to black.

Nov 13, 2016

It is becoming harder to write these. My mind seems erratic and I am always tired. I feel like I must complete this, but it is such a strain. The dreams have started again, and I haven't slept well in the last few days. Sorry for any mistakes.

The stay at the hospital was longer than I had wanted. I had planned to leave the next morning, but my doctor came in and explained my injuries. Four cracked ribs and a bruised lung, mild concussion and a torn tendon in my knee. They had given me blood thinners to help prevent clots forming in my lung, so I needed to be in the hospital for observation at least until my lung healed some. I argued with the doctor and Thomas but to no avail. Thomas was taking care of my medical bills and said he would pay me for my time off. I assumed it was because he didn't want me to sue him since one of his employee's had tried to kill me.

I relented and settled in for a few days of boredom. The hospital food sucked, watching t.v. sucked and no booze sucked, although the pain medicine was nice. I laid about, feeling sorry for myself and trying to put the recent weirdness out of my head. Thomas popped in later in the day and brought my stuff from the motel room. We chatted for a few minutes then he left. I lay back in bed and was pondering a nap when I heard water running.

I looked around, checked the t.v. but the sound wasn't coming from anywhere I could see. I buzzed the nurse. She appeared at the door shortly. "Yes, what do you need Mr...?" her voice trailed off as she heard the splashing. "I don't know where it's coming from." I said with a shrug. She stepped in the room and walked to the bathroom door. She gasped and stepped back, splashing the black oily water that was now seeping under the bathroom door. "Nasty!" she muttered under her breath. "I'll get maintenance up here right away, looks like the toilet is backed up.' She turned and exited quickly, her shoes squeaking as she walked away. I glanced at the water and shuddered. No one had used that bathroom as far as I knew, and the slightest twinge of acid smell drifted across my bed. I wanted to panic but the meds kept me at a calm anxiety. I glanced at the door and could see something black and squiggly wriggling underneath it. I was considering pulling my I.V. and running but I felt entirely to weak and tired. I lay there contemplating whether or not the little squishy beasts could get into my bed. "Perhaps I'm dreaming again?" I thought.

The loud squeal of a shoddy mop bucket snapped me back to reality. A Hispanic fellow came through the door pushing the bucket and smiling. His name tag read, "Rodrigo." I languidly pointed towards the bathroom door and tried to say "snakes", but all I managed was a long s sound. Rodrigo nodded, "Si, el bano." I wanted to wave him off, but my hands were not working. "No, no, no, ssssss..." I said. He grinned at me. "Don't worry, I'll clean it up hombre." He opened the door and flicked on the light. He then stood there staring into the bathroom. Finally, he turned to me with a confused look. "Hey man, there's no water in here, and the toilet looks fine." He reached over and flushed it. I gave him my best, "beats me" look and he wheeled his mop bucket back out the way he came.

I forced myself into a sitting position in spite of my haze. I visually examined the floor and bathroom door area. Nada, nothing, zero. I could hear Rodrigo arguing with the nurse. They came in and he showed her the bathroom. Still nothing. She shook her head and looked very confused, then they both exited. I shook it off and started to lay back down when something caught my eye. The stuff Thomas had brought, the leather book was peeking out of the pile. I managed to shift in bed, lean over and just reach it. I pulled it up onto my tray and opened it.

Several months had passed with little to write about. E. Feldman was spending his time working for Piebald construction and wooing Miss Betty. He recounts several of their "encounters" and talks a bit about work but little else. I skip forward a bit and find some juicy reading.

January 12th, 1972

I love her, there ain't no doubt about it. I feel like I would go through hell or high water just to get a glimpse of that woman. We been going at it hot and heavy for a while now, but I felt like it was time to take the next step. I got paid a couple days ago so I decided to go into the big city and find a ring. I've been able to save up a little and I figured Houston would be the place to find a ring for my Betty. I spent a whole day in town, shopping and eating good food. Can't say I would want to live in the city but it's sure nice to visit. I found a nice gold ring, kinda plain but with a quarter carat diamond set in it. It set me back damn near all my savings, but Betty is worth ten times as much.

We got back into Beeville about eight that night and I decided I needed to talk to old man Piebald to seal the deal. I called him up and we decided to meet for a few beers at the quarry. I got there before he did and sat at a back table. He came in a few minutes later looking serious as usual. He sat down, we ordered some beers, and we chit chatted for a minute, then I decided it was time to get down to business.

"Mr. Piebald, I been working for you awhile and I hope you can see I'm as honest hard-working man. Me and Betty have been dating for some time..." He held his hand up to stop me. He took a drink of beer and got an even more serious look than normal. "Eric, you are a good worker, and you seem honest enough, but I know what you are going to ask me, and I must say no." I was confused and a little bit angry. I raised my voice slightly. "You know sir, that I spend every day bustin' my hump and every other moment with your daughter. I came to ask for her hand in an honorable fashion, and you're just gonna say no?" He gave me the hard stare. "I like you son, but I want the best for Betty. You're a hard-working man just like me, but I also know what that means for Betty. Long days without you around. You come home busted, too tired to tend to her, too tired to play with your kids. I want her to have a better life than that. You show me that you can give her that better life and I'll give you my blessings."

Needless to say, I left there angry and sad. I could not imagine my life without Betty. For the next week or so we fretted and fumed and had even worked up a plan to elope. That's when I got a call from Mr. Piebald. He asked me if I was serious about marrying Betty. I told him I was as serious as a heart attack. He said "Alright then. I just got off the phone with Floyd Weathers, he is the head man of the new freeway construction crew. They gonna put a freeway up through Houston. Its government work and pays well above what you can make here. I put in a good word for you and told Floyd I'd send you down tomorrow. The contract is two years, that oughta get you and Betty money for a house and car and maybe some savings. What do you think kid?" I was stunned to say the least, but the old man was trying to help me out, so what could I say? "I'll do it Mr. Piebald, and I'll prove my worth to you and Betty." I hung up and smiled, life was about to get good.

I read for some time then eventually dropped off to sleep. "No more bad dreams." I thought and hoped, like E. Feldman, for life to get better. I couldn't have been more mistaken.

Nov 21, 2016

I was trying to sleep but the nightmares are keeping me awake, so I guess I must write more. I am almost sorry I started this tale, now I feel compelled but the more I remember, the worse things get.

I awoke the next morning feeling a bit more refreshed. The leather book lay across my chest as I had left it. The nurse brought me breakfast and I ate the powdered eggs with some gusto. She said the doctor would be in later to give me an evaluation, and then she left. I spent the morning with a respiratory therapist, I remember his name being James. He was a serious stoner, and fun to talk with. We chatted as he went through his routine and made sure my lung was working properly.

"Are you from around here James?" I asked as he was tapping on my back. He nodded his head in my periphery. "Yeah, I grew up in Galena Park, and moved into the city a couple of years ago." His voice was calm and smooth and made me feel relaxed. "So, let me ask you a weird question, you ever have any weird shit happen to you around here?" He was pushing himself around on his stool, checking my pulse and such. "Nothing super crazy I guess, what do you mean by weird?" I shifted uncomfortably as he placed the cold stethoscope against my bare chest. 'Like weird stuff, tiny snakes, ghosts, ...I don't know...just weird shit." He looked up at me, his eyes seemed heavy lidded and his voice deep and calm. "Nah man, I think I saw a UFO once, but my bro says it was just a plane or something." He laughed at the memory and finished up my check. "Your lung seems to be healing fine, maybe the Doc will let you go tomorrow man." I nodded and thanked him for his time. He left the room whistling some Bob Marley.

I had a couple of hours at least before the Doctor was going to show up so I decided to read some more. E. Feldman took a job with the Texas Highway commission as a heavy equipment operator. His work was going to be on the north end of the Interstate 45 project, connecting the Gulf Freeway in the south to a northern route that would give access to the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. Apparently at the time there were protests because the Freeway project was going to claim land that some folks didn't want to give up. The first few weeks of work were on and off as protests often shut down construction. After about a month or so Feldman was transferred to a tunneling crew just north of the city. It was here that Feldman's writing really takes a turn for the weird.

February 26th, 1972

We have been three days digging into the side of a large hill near a place called "The Woodlands." Things had been going pretty well until earlier today when one of the tractors got stuck in the south face wall. We spent a couple of hours with two dozers trying to pull the tractor out when we realized that it was sinking. The foreman came on and set us trying to shore up the tractor. Three other guys and I had gotten a couple of support beams and were carrying them in the short tunnel when it happened. We heard a rumbling, sucking noise and the whole forward portion of the tunnel collapsed underneath the tractor. Bill Wallace, Justin Ramos and I where dragged into the sinkhole as the tractor disappeared ahead of us. The fall was about 20' I would guess; I went in ass first and landed on my butt and back. The mud mostly broke my fall. I rolled quickly to the side to get away from the falling slabs of mud and the timbers we were carrying. My ears were ringing as the sound of the tractor falling in was thunderous. I saw Ramos roll past me, and then I heard the visceral splat and cracking of bone as one of the timbers caught him straight to the chest. His hardhat flew off and his flashlight was buried in the mud. I only caught a glimpse of his mangled body before my flashlight was covered in mud as well. I was buried up to my waist in mud at this point and my only thought was to keep my head above the mud to keep from smothering. Slowly the falling mud began to stop, and I tried to calm myself and keep my head.

It was a few minutes before folks from up top could get close enough to the edge of the sinkhole to check on us. Ramos had been totally buried by mud the best I could tell, and I could hear Bill struggling somewhere off to my left. I spoke as calmly as I could to Bill, "Hey, Bill, relax man. The more you struggle the more you will get stuck." Bill continued huffing and puffing for a few moments and then I heard his breathing come under control. "Feldman, is that you?" His voice was low, and I could hear his fear. "Yeah, it’s me Bill, take some deep breaths and relax, the guys will get us out." I said this, hoping I was correct. I took my own advice and breathed deeply and tried not to think about Ramos. I could hear talking from up above us, and see lights moving around. Bill started hollering, trying to get someone’s attention. They must have heard him cause it got quiet. Then we could hear the foreman's voice. "Bill, are you okay, can you hear me?" Bill responded in the affirmative. "Can you tell me who is down there Bill, you and who else?" Bill shouted up my name and Ramos. "Okay, is everyone else okay?" I interrupted Bill's reply. "Boss, I'm fine but I think Ramos is dead, one of the beams fell on him. He is close to my position." I could hear Bill's breathing quicken at the news. "Breath Bill, we can't do anything for Ramos now, just breath."

It seemed an eternity before the Foreman called down again. "Okay, if you guys are stable, we are going to back the dozers up as close as we can safely get to the hole. We will tie on ropes and lower a couple of guys down to get y'all out. Do you understand?" Bill and I both answered in the affirmative. The lights and voices receded, and Bill and I were alone in the hole. At this point I had managed to get my flashlight free of the mud and clean it off a bit. It wasn't putting out full light but enough so I could see. The sinkhole was quite large, maybe 50 yards across and 80 yards long. We had dropped down about twenty to twenty-five feet into an underground cavern. The support wall I could see looked to be limestone, but I couldn't make out much more with my shoddy flashlight. It was then that I heard the noise, low, barely audible, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere. A slow breathy inhale and exhale. It wasn't Bill, I could still hear him struggling to stay calm. No, this was pervasive, I could feel it in my chest. A deep anxiety seemed to well up in me, I focused and knew that in this situation I could not afford to lose my cool. Years of military life kicked in, and I kept my head.

I listened to the breath for what seemed like forever. The crew had not come back yet, and I did not want to alarm Bill more than he already was, so I kept my silence. I could not fathom what could cause such a sound down here, it did not seem machine made, nor from the mud or water. I flashed the light around in my area. Its feeble light showed me very little. I carefully examined my space and that's when I noticed it, a dark blue, or maybe black stone, a few feet to my three o'clock. It seems scratched or marred, but what attracted me was that it was so out of place. It seemed almost translucent, like some kind of crystal. It was large, about three feet by three feet on its upper surface, and I had no idea how deep it went into the mud. As I watched, it pulsed, a deep blue light, very faint, but I know I saw it. The pulses came slowly, one every few minutes. I almost felt transfixed by each pulse and had to dig deep mentally to stay in the here and now.

I decided to check on Bill. "Hey, Bill, how you doing over there buddy?" His reply came back slower than I expected. "Hey Feldman, I don't feel right. I am tired, feeling really drained. I don't think we are gonna get out of here man." I could feel his fear rising, his want to give up. "Bill, listen, the guys are coming, things are gonna be fine, just keep your chin up man, no wimping out on me Bill." I said this with a laugh, hoping it would lift his spirits. He did not answer. I was about to speak again when I saw the first one, a small black sliver seemed to break away from the stone, then another. They squiggled in the mud and then moved off towards Bill's position. I watched as several more fell off into the mud. I felt the immediate need to run, to get away, but I knew that wasn't going to be an option. I hefted my flashlight but had second thoughts as it was my only light source. I glanced around near me, rocks and mud and ... and... a root, a big root. I set the flashlight down in front of me and thrust my hand into the mud. I pushed down until I could get to my pants pocket. I managed to fish out my pocketknife. I worked quickly to cut the root loose into a decent sized club.

When I looked back there were at least twenty of the things squirming in the mud. A few had made towards my position. I readied the club and waited, but as soon as they got near my range, they would flee. I saw several more head off in Bill's direction. "Bill, Bill!" I called out loudly. Again, a slow answer. "Yeah, Feldman, I am here. Just trying to stay calm. We gonna get outta here right, Feldman?" He was almost in tears by this point, and I wrestled with the idea of whether or not to tell him about the slugs. They might be harmless, but something told me they were not. "Bill listen, there are some things coming your way, little worms, or snakes or something. Find a stick to fend them off!" I could hear Bill moving around but he did not reply. "Bill, did you hear me, find a stick or rock or something." I listened carefully. Bill became still, his breathing steadied. "Bill, can you hear me?" His voice was low but seemed to be more chipper. "Yeah, Feldman, I can hear you. The snakes are not snakes, just worms man, attracted to our body heat. Relax, Feldman, there is no reason to fight." I was confused at his response. "Bill, what the hell are you talking about man, don't let those things near you." He laughed lightly and I swear I could hear him whispering in the dark.

Our moment of intensity was interrupted by two work lights coming on facing down into the hole. Damn near blinded me and Bill seemed to scream a bit, perhaps out of surprise. "Hey guys, we have the dozers in place, I'm sending down two guys to get y'all out." I was so happy I would have laughed if I had not been so freaked out. The men made fast work of it, and both Bill and I where soon pulled from the mud and sitting well away from the hole. Bill was quiet, a slight grin creeping across his muddy face. I patted him on the back and asked how he was doing. "Oh, I'm fine Feldman, just fine. As a matter of fact, I don't think I have felt this good, this ... alive in a very long time." He said this through that heady grin, and something about him didn't seem right. I shook it off as nerves and a hard day. I walked back to the dozers and watched them pull up the mangled body of Ramos. It was hard to see, hard to stomach, but knowing what I know now, he ended up the luckier of all three of us.

My reading was interrupted by the Doctor coming in to do my checkup. He agreed with James's diagnosis from earlier and told me that I would be discharged after lunch tomorrow. Thomas showed up around the same time and after the Doctor left, he offered me a couple of weeks off to recuperate in a house he owned in Westfield, rent free. All I would need do was pay the bills and stock the fridge. That sounded good to me and so I agreed. After everyone left, I decided that I had had enough of Feldman's adventures for the day and drifted off to sleep.

Dec 5, 2016

When I awoke from the ragged half hour sleep this afternoon, I could hear water running. It only took me a few minutes to discern where it was coming from. I turned off the bathroom sink spigot. The black, oily water was already on my floor, the smell made me gag. I left the house and am now sitting in a local coffee shop. I have been trying to avoid writing, trying to forget, but now I know the time is short.

I had been at the house in Westfield for about four days. I had taken a lot of time to just relax and try and recuperate. I wanted to forget about Jack, forget about what I had seen, or dreamed or whatever. I spent the days napping, watching t.v. or just sitting on the porch swing and relaxing. It was late evening on the fourth day, I had just come in from the porch. I poured myself some sweet tea and sat down for some evening sports. The t.v. fuzzed out, then came on, then fuzzed out again. The lights in the living room flickered, and my ears started ringing like mad. I jumped up, thinking I was losing my mind. I started for the door when I heard a ragged sound, like a raw breath from someone in great pain. I turned and saw the snow on the t.v. It seemed to coalesce into a partial face, its mouth agape. I stared at it in disbelief and started to back away. "WESSSS...WESSS...GOTTA GO...GOTTA GO...GO!!!" I fell over myself getting out of the house. I stumbled through the screen door and practically fell off the porch. I had made it to my car before I realized I hadn't been breathing. I took a huge breath and sat there dumbfounded, gasping and shaking.

It took me a good hour to calm down. I was considering leaving, just getting my shit and driving back to Odessa, but I couldn't escape the thought of Jack dying, and I wanted to know what happened. I finally found the courage to go back inside. I found the book, packed away in my backpack. I sat down and opened it.

April 15, 1972

Feldman decided not to take any time off of work. He did go to Ramos’s funeral, but was back to work the next day. He and Betty put down money on a house in north Houston and were settling in, as Betty found work as a secretary. His entries are pretty mundane for the next couple of months, until he gets a call from his foreman. A crew laying drainage pipe for an area of overpass near north Vista drive, had encountered a problem. While digging their tractor had broken through the top of an old pipe system. The tractor had become stuck and the foreman wanted Feldman to go and assess the situation, that's where we pick up his story.

I argued with the boss for at least thirty minutes on the phone. I didn't feel like I was the man for the job. He insisted that I handle it though and to make matters worse he wanted me to take Bill with me. I had done my best to avoid Bill since the accident. He seemed strange, and his whole demeanor changed after getting out of that hole. A few weeks after the accident he and his wife got a divorce and she took his kids and went back to Minnesota. Since then he had been quiet, taciturn and even stranger than before. I wasn't happy about any of it really. Betty and I were trying to buy furniture and get our house set up and this was sure to turn into a lengthy affair.

Bill met me at the truck. His eyes seemed sunk in and he had dark circles like deep crevasses around them. He walked slowly and seemed to be drunk, or uncoordinated. I loaded what equipment I thought we would need and then we took off. As I drove out onto the road south, Bill kept his gazed fixed straight ahead, his neck muscles bulging as if he were stressed. I gave a nervous laugh and turned to look at him. "Good to see you Bill." I lied. He kept his eyes straight ahead. "Yeah, its been awhile Feldman, how are you?" I noticed his hands seemed to twitch, involuntarily. "I been alright Bill, I was sorry to hear about you and your wife. I know that has to be hard on you." He half looked at me, his face seemed a mix between frightened, and angry. "I don't want to talk about it." He said flatly, and then fixed his gaze straight ahead again. We didn't speak a word the rest of the trip.

We arrived at the site, and I was introduced to the crew chief, a man named Buddy. He took me to where the tractor had partially fallen into a four-way concrete section. The concrete box was buried about ten feet underground and was about twenty-foot square. It served as an intersection of four pipes that carried either sewer or drainage water out of the area. He had several maps and diagrams laying out but said that he could not find the intersection on the maps. Some of these old pipes had been here many years, and perhaps the maps didn't go back far enough. I took a look at the intersection and tractor. The tractor had broken through the top of the box and had both wheels stuck inside. There would be no way to get it out without further damaging the intersection. I told Buddy that I thought we needed to see if these old pipes were still functional, so we would know if we needed to repair the intersection or just tear it down. He agreed and asked if I was willing to explore the pipes myself. I really didn't want to but no one else jumped up to volunteer, so I said that I would.

Bill followed me back to the truck as I grabbed our waders, flashlights and some flares. He was still just staring off into nothing and fidgeting with his hands. I broke our silence, "Hey Bill, if you're not up to going down there its cool, I can handle it myself." I hoped to relieve his tension a bit. He looked down and then straightened his shirt. "No, Feldman. I am okay to go down with you. It just brings back bad memories, that's all." I nodded and patted him on the shoulder. "Okay Bill, but if it gets to much just let me know." We walked back to the intersection and set up our rope.

A couple of crewmen lowered us down into the intersection. It was about fifteen feet deep and the floor was covered in about a foot of water. I lit two flares and placed them in an "X" pattern on some stones which were above water. We could see that three of the four tunnels where open but the fourth tunnel, facing north was just capped off. The water on the floor appeared stagnate, dark in color with a viscous texture. I wanted to make sure that each section was indeed not functional, so I suggested we try the east passage first and work our way around. Bill nodded and so we struck off down the east passage. The tunnel was about eight foot in diameter and so we could walk inside with no real problem. The water on the floor seemed still, and tunnel was quiet except for our slogging through the muck.

We had walked down about three hundred feet when I first heard it. A deep, breathy inhale, then slow exhale. It seemed to permeate the walls and floor. I felt the anxiety rise in my chest, as I knew this sound. I stopped, and tried to quell my nerves, I heard Bill pull up short behind me, the light from his flashlight playing across my back throwing wild shadows ahead of me. I wanted to speak, to say something to Bill but the words stuck in my throat. My chest felt heavy, an incredible fatigue seemed to settle over me and I could not move. Bill's flashlight turned off, and in a whisper, I could hear him mumbling. I looked down into the water and could see many wriggling forms moving about my legs. Needle like pin pricks assailed my legs as I watched the wriggling, black worms moving through my pants leg. The fatigue was so heavy, so massive, it seemed I was breathing through water. I tried to calm myself, to move, to run but my whole body felt as if an elephant were laying on top of it.

My mind flashed back to my squad, in the bush, mortar fire coming in. We had been caught between two V.C. ambush points and shit was hitting the fan. My platoon leader was screaming in my face. "Corporal, it's either die trying or die crying!! What’s it gonna be?" I snapped back to reality, took a deep breath and forced my calm to settle. Suddenly, my legs, which had been in reverse since this had begun, kicked in and I threw myself backwards into Bill. I felt his arms wrap around me, but they were cold, and so strong! I wrestled loose and focused my flashlight on Bill. He stood there, shaking. His arms had elongated, become black, shiny, and his hands had melded into snake like heads. He was smiling widely, then his face split horizontally at the corners of his mouth. His upper jaw and head flopped backwards and out of his neck came another black tendril. I didn't know whether to shit or die right there. I backed away, swinging my flashlight wildly. His arms, snakes? Flailed forwards and slapped the light from my hands, the second caught me across the chest and knocked me back into the wall. I fumbled about trying to stand and search for the light when I remembered the flares I had brought down. I grabbed two out of my belt and pulled the caps. Bill thing was moving towards me, and I could hear, sense, a voice in the darkness. "Feldman, you have seen usssss...you know ussss...we cannot let you sssstaaaayyy...we cannot reccccycle you. Do not ressssissst usssss." I struck the flares against the tunnel wall and saw them come to fiery life. "Whatever you are...to hell with you!!!" I screamed as I stabbed the flares into what used to be Bill's face. An incredible squeal came forth, like a hundred nails being dragged across a chalk board. Bill fell back, the flares sticking out of his neck burning white hot. I pushed past him and bolted down the tunnel, scraping the skin off of my arms and hands as I went.

I finally burst forth into the intersection, falling face first into the water. I could hear the crewmen above me hollering, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. The next thing I know they were down with me, putting the rope around me and pulling me out. I was so happy to see daylight I cried. The rest is a blur, but the men were able to retrieve Bill's body. No snakes, no worms, but it was obvious I had attacked Bill with the flares. The police came, I told them Bill had attacked me, had tried to drown me. My foreman confirmed that Bill was under heavy stress and had been acting weird. It took a couple of weeks to straighten out but in the end, it was deemed I had simply defended myself against a madman. The only problem was, I know what happened, and I felt more like the madman than Bill. My sleep became erratic, and I was having a hard time focusing on anything but what happened. I finally decided that I needed to get to the bottom of this thing, so I started doing some research.

I shut the book, my eyes had grown heavy and I wasn't sure if I could stay awake any longer. Feldman's story was starting to match up with my own, and now I was beginning to understand that I too needed to know more about what was going on. I hoped that Feldman would enlighten me, but I also felt like I needed to talk to someone who might know something about weird shit like this. The only problem was, I didn't know anyone who wouldn't think I was certifiably bat shit crazy.

I am sorry friends; I can no longer stay awake. Three days with no sleep and I am so tired. I will write again soon, assuming they will leave me be.

Oct 12, 2020

Greetings Friends,

I know it has been over 3 years since I have been able to speak to you. I will try to explain my absence the best I can. Two days after my last post my brother found me passed out in the front yard of my apartment complex. I was unresponsive and was taken to the local hospital. They told my brother that I was catatonic and that I was suffering from exhaustion, severe dehydration and Sepsis from a rampant Sinus infection.

I am not sure how long I was in the hospital, but after I was released my brother had me transferred to a mental health ward in the small town where he and his wife lived. I remained in the catatonic state for nearly a year and a half by his recounting. I remember almost nothing of the time, just snippets of horrible dreams, and the constant sound of dripping water.

Mt. Zion mental health was not a terrible place. You always hear how bad mental wards are but the people there where nice and the therapy really seemed to help me. I couldn't really function well at first, and it took some time before I could talk, and my memories are even now very spotty in places. It was only about 6 months ago that I really began to become functional again. Of course, it was also then that the memories and nightmares began to flood back in.

I had sat down in the common room one evening to watch television and they were watching some kind of Sci-fi movie. The movie was dark and very high tension, with a strange alien hunting the main characters. I awoke from my long internal slumber with the force of a megaton explosion, losing my shit all over common room, crying, screaming and getting wrestled to the floor by the white shirts. It was the next day that I decided I needed to get out, to continue this writing.

I decided to play it cool and toed the line to make them believe I didn't need to be here anymore. I contacted my brother and asked to be re-evaluated. The Doctor who had overseen my case was a very nice, older fellow and he really wanted for me to return to normal life. He was concerned about my outburst in the common room, but I was able to play it off by telling him the movie had frightened me and that as I was regaining my cognitive abilities it was just a big shock to my system. He released me later that week.

It has taken me some time to get a job, and an apartment and finally internet access to continue this story. It is now the driving force of my life. What is going on in the world around us is distinctly connected to Feldman's story and what I have seen and experienced. I am trying to remain stable, to use the techniques taught to me by my therapists. I must continue this at all costs.

Finally, two days ago I was able to get into my brother’s storage building. He had most of my stuff stored there from my apartment in Houston. I dug through the mess, trying to remain calm as my brother was observing me, but inside my mind was going a thousand miles per hour! As I grabbed clothes and some CD's and such my hand brushed across it! The feeling of ants crawling all over my hand, up my arm, let me know I had found it. I brushed back a pair of sweat bottoms and there in the box was the leather-bound book. Feldman's testament. The Houston files where back in my hands. I wrapped the book in the sweats and gathered my stuff.

I have not yet brought myself to open the book. I will, when my hands stop shaking and my mind calms down a bit. I can hear the water dripping in the bathroom. I will write more soon.

Oct 17, 2020

I opened the book today and I was immediately drawn back in. My curiosity was constantly at odds with my fear. Shaking a bit, I chewed my lip and continued reading...

May 1, 1972

Feldman's Breakdown

It has been almost two weeks since the incident with Bill. The memory of it, the interviews with the police, the company Ombudsman, and finally the funeral were tearing at my insides like a dog wanting to get outside. I could hardly think of anything else, and more importantly I could not sleep or function with any kind of normalcy. Betty was tore up because I was tore up. She could see the pain in my eyes and feel the growing fear in my voice. She did what she could to comfort me, but I couldn't explain to her, did not want to explain to her the things I had seen.

I was up early on a Friday morning. I was on paid leave for 10 days. I grabbed some coffee and the newspaper. Sat down to try and get my head moving in the right direction. The paper said that the I-45 construction was moving forward slowly due to recent safety concerns and riots that had broken out over neighborhoods being cleared out to make way for the construction. I almost chuckled at the depth of that understatement. Betty came in, looking pretty but worried. She poured herself some coffee and sat down. "How are you feeling today hon?" she said, hoping that my answer would lighten her mood. "I'm alright today, so far. I don't want you to focus on me Bett's...I will get through this." She looked down at the Yellow Formica dining table. "I worry and I know you are trying to be strong, but so much tragedy in such a short time, that would weigh heavy on anyone. I spoke to Arlene at the office, she says she knows a Psychotherapist that helped her and her husband after they lost a baby a few years ago. Would you be willing to see someone like that?" I could tell by the passivity in her voice that she was hoping not to strike a nerve. I sipped my coffee and though long and hard about what she was asking. I noticed her growing anxiety as I stalled and she started softly humming to herself, a nervous tick she has when she is impatient. I lifted my head from the paper and took a sip of coffee and smiled a weak smile. "I would like to talk to someone I said, do you have his information?" Her anxiety faded, and she quickly dug in her purse and offered up a piece of office letterhead with the Doctor's information scrawled on it. I took it, she got up and swiftly surrounded me with a flurry of hugs and kisses. "I just want you to feel better, I can’t stand seeing you like this!" I got up and gave her a full hug and looked into her pretty eyes. "If it makes you feel better, then it makes me feel better." She grabbed her stuff and headed out the door, obviously feeling a bit of hope after weeks of uncertainty. I watched her go and looked down at the paper. Doctor Zane Embry, his office was off of Bell street, downtown, not far from where I-45 would be passing through. I finished my coffee and headed out the door.

The office was across from the Law College, and the buildings here were new and shiny. The day was rainy and gray, but otherwise not bad. I parked and made my way up to the office. The receptionist wasn't expecting me, and I only assumed that I would be making an appointment but after I filled out a bit of paperwork, she smiled up at me, "The doctor has an opening if you would like to see him now?" I stuttered my reply as I was a bit taken aback by how quick this was all happening. "Su...sure..I guess..Is...is he okay with right now?" She giggled a bit and took my paperwork and put it in a brown folder. "Yes, his earlier appointment cancelled. Dr. Embry does not like to be bored." she got up and walked me down a wood paneled hall and up to Dr. Embry's door. She knocked and I heard a calm, baritone say, "Comon in!" As the office door opened, I was embraced by the smell of a fine cigar. Dr. Embry was sitting behind a desk strewn with books and papers. He was of middling age with a mostly bald head, but a well-trimmed, salt and pepper beard. He was of African descent and had a large stogie hanging out of his mouth. He removed it, stood and shook my hand with a firm grip. He motioned for me to set down as he took the brown folder from the receptionist. He glanced through it for a few moments as I got comfortable in the leather high back chair. The receptionist closed the door and Dr. Embry looked up at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Seems to me Mr. Feldman, as I read through this that you may be suffering from the recent trauma that you have experienced, as well as some left-over combat shock from your time in Vietnam. I'm guessing, anxiety, lack of sleep, nightmares and so forth? Does that sound about right?" He sat the folder down and took out a pen and notebook. "To tell you the truth Doc, I am really not here to see you, at least not in the way you think." His eyebrows raised and he sat the notebook down as he leaned towards me. "Ok, well then, if you are not here to see me about your current troubles, what then? You have my attention Mr. Feldman."

I was shaking at this point, the nerves coming on full steam. His face appeared genuinely concerned and I felt a sort of calmness coming from his eyes. "I..I need help finding out about something that is ...uh...very ...uh...very unusual. I have seen things, strange things happening that I cannot get my head around Doc. I am a pretty levelheaded person, not someone prone to letting my head get the better of me. I did serve in Vietnam, and although it was full of horrors, I slept well after I returned. I understand doing dirty work, whether it’s with a gun, or a shovel. I try not to let such things get to me. But what I have experienced recently...well...it goes...uh...way beyond ...anything I know about. I am talking about weird sci-fi kinda stuff Doc, way out there." He leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses and picked up his stogie. "I'm all ears Mr. Feldman." He said as he leaned back and prepared to listen.

I'm not sure why, but I told him everything. Every detail that my addled brain could remember. He listened, intently and never once reached for his pen and paper. He puffed his cigar, and he nodded from time to time, but for nearly an hour and a half I just poured out every piece of weirdness that had been happening to me. As I finished with Bill's death and the nightmares and sleeplessness since that night, I sat back in the chair and exhaled a huge sigh.

Dr. Embry sat forward, dabbing out the now stub of his stogie in the ashtray. He leaned towards me onto his elbows and smiled. "You are a brave man Mr. Feldman. To come to me, a Psychiatric Doctor, and weave a story like that. Did you not make the assumption that I would assume you crazy and put you away in a hospital?" A wave of pure peace and calm came over me, and sleepiness was at the back of my eyes. "Sir." I said, as I leaned back in the padded chair, eyes half closed. "You just might do that, but the truth is I am not sure that I'm not crazy. So, in the long run it seemed to make sense to come here. My main concern is for my wife's safety and sanity. If I'm crazy, then you will put me some where to get help and my wife will be safe. If I'm not crazy then perhaps you know someone who can help me or can at least point me in the right direction. Hopefully also keeping my wife safe and sane. To be honest, I am to tired and to wore out right now to fight you about it." He looked at me, carefully, closely and then sat up in his chair. "You need rest Mr. Feldman. Go home and rest. I will call tomorrow and let you know what I believe about this and what steps I think need to be taken. Is that a deal we can agree on? I sat forward, shook his hand, and he walked me to the door. I left my contact information with the receptionist and left in a daze.

The drive home was a gray mist of half sleep. I pulled into the driveway and ambled up to the house. I made it to the couch and lay down, sleep coming on full force now. As my eyes began to slide closed, I could hear breathing, slow in and out, and a faint voice deep in my mind. "We sssssseeeeeee you Feeelddmannnnnssss...weeee sssseeeee you and weeee comesssss for you." The darkness of sleep enveloped me, and I heard nothing else.

Nov 1, 2020

Reading the book again immediately set me on edge. It has been so long, and I had almost forgotten the smell of the rotted leather and stained paper, the tingle of the fear at the turning of each page. The struggle in my mind is wanting to read it, out of want of knowledge. Wanting to read it out of the want to warn others, and the wanting to burn it, drown myself in alcohol and forget it ever happened. I am forcing myself forwards, to what end I do not know.

I want to relate to you yesterday's events. I had slept in until about 9 am and groggily got up and made myself some breakfast. Took my daily medications to keep my sanity, and then sat back and watched some television. This did not last long, as Television bores me to death, and so I went and sat outside and smoked cigarettes and watched people in masks and gloves walk around the apartment complex. The current "stay at home" order affects me very little, as I rarely leave home except for work, but it is strange to hear the world so quiet now.

Afternoon I had an appointment with my therapist. We spoke over skype and that session seemed to help me center myself. I, of course, did not mention the book or my new delving into it. Instead we focused on my progress with meditation, and how I had been feeling. After that I decided that I needed to work out. My therapist and I had talked about maintaining my physical as well as mental health. I have always been a physical person, working with my hands and outdoors since I was very young. So, I changed clothes and headed over to our apartment's gym facility. Thankfully they have not closed it yet due to the virus.

I left the house and made my way across the apartment yards towards the gym. As I was walking, I saw up ahead of me a young man walking his dog. A white boxer type with a black splotch across his face. The dog had spotted a squirrel which it had chased to the edge of a tree. The dog was barking, and its prey was hanging off the side of the tree taunting it. The guy was oblivious as he was on his phone and trying to keep the dog from dragging him around. I continued walking past, until I was almost even with the tree. It was then that it happened.

The Dog had just lunged hard towards the tree, almost pulling the man off his feet. The dog jumped up almost to the level of the Squirrel and suddenly yelped very loud! The man jerked hard on the leash and the dog basically fell back towards him, but I could see that it was still yelping and rubbing at its face. The body of the squirrel fell off the tree and lay motionless at the base. The man stopped for a second, checked out his dog, and then walked over to the unmoving tiny body. He stood there, staring at it, and shaking his head. The dog was now in full retreat struggling to pull the man away from the area. Finally, the guy started backing away, continuing from time to time to look back at the area.

I waited till the man and his dog were out of sight before I approached. I was wondering what happened to the dog and what the man was staring at. As I walked up on the tree, I could see the body, lying in the grass, its brown fur spattered with blood. The head was missing, and I could see several pieces of skull and fur laying on the ground near the body. It was then that I noticed the first movement. The legs of the squirrel twitch and the skin near the abdomen humped up and then deflated, almost like a breath, but not exactly. I squatted to look closer. Out of the neck stump I saw more blood spurt, then a long, thin black ... worm...tentacle...thing, then another, then another. The three ... tentacles...they dug into the dirt, and began to drag the body towards a small puddle of standing water near the foundation of the apartment building a few feet away.

I threw myself backwards, falling on my backside into the grass behind me. I could not take my eyes off of this very bizarre scene. The thing drug itself, jerkily, slowly towards the water, then as it reached its goal, the little black slivers detached and disappeared into the water, leaving only little rings of waves to mark their departure. I immediately flipped over and jumped up. I ran all the way to the Gym and went inside. I was shaking, nauseous and could not think straight for several minutes. I just sat down on a bicycle machine and hung my head. My brain was going a million miles an hour...what the fuck was that? Was that real? Was I hallucinating? Could this be my medication? I had no answers.

After a bit I finally got my head together. I forced my mind to focus on the task at hand. I worked out very hard, until I was entirely exhausted. As I made my way back to my apartment, I knew I would pass the tree again. I stopped and peered at the area of the water, just past the tree. No squirrel, no worms, nothing except manicured grass and some standing water. I breathed out heavily and relaxed a bit. After I got home, I showered and took some time to read, meditate and eventually decided to make some supper for myself. Cooking seemed to always be a way for me to relax, so I set about making some Meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

After Supper, I sat down to watch some more Television. I switched channels endlessly it seemed, as I could find nothing to watch that seemed interesting or intelligent. I finally came to rest on some sort of cartoon. Its bright colors and happy music seemed to lift my spirits. It was about some sort of sea creatures all yellow and pink, living in some undersea city. I left it on in the background and set about reading a bit more for the evening. I was tempted to walk down to a liquor store and get some Whiskey, but I felt that might not be safe with my current medications. So, I just tried to focus my mind on something else.

I am not sure how long I had been reading, making notes about what to tell you from Feldman's journal. I was yawning when I saw it, just under the edge of the front door, a slight movement. It had been raining on and off the last few days and I had been having some issues with water seeping under the front door, so that was my first thought, but as I stood to grab a towel I was horrified to see a black sliver slide beneath the door and begin to slither towards me. Its movement across the tile was faster than I would imagine such a creature being able to maintain but maintain it did. I ran into my dining area, I had no table and chairs, just a bunch of stacked boxes that I had yet to unpack. I climbed upon them as quickly as I could.

I sat there staring down looking for this thing and almost laughed. Such a tiny thing, this slug, sliver, worm. And I, a grown man, sitting atop some boxes like a woman in an old movie who's seen a mouse. But I remembered what had happened to Jack and I shivered. I couldn't see it, from my position but I knew it was below me somewhere. Then I heard it, the sound of popping, very slight like cereal crackling in a bowl. Down below the creature came into sight. Its black form bubbling and shifting, and I saw a hundred little legs come out of the sides of the thing. Long, spindly legs, like a daddy long legs. It then immediately started to climb up the box. I screamed at it came up over the edge of the box. I clambered backwards as quickly as possible and fell into a hole in between the boxes. The tiny creature now loomed above me, its many legs waving in the air. Then I awoke.

I was still sitting on the couch, the Television playing bright and shiny cartoons. I had been dreaming...at least ... I thought that was what it was. A dream? I don't know, I can't make that assumption at this point...I am not sure what is real anymore

Dec 12, 2020

I have taken some time to calm down, and now I would like to continue with Feldman's story. I have stuffed towels under my doors and can hear the rain beating down outside. I have sequestered myself in my bedroom and have some necessary supplies to stay here for a bit. I want to continue, need to continue, but the pressure of it gets to me...the knowledge that its right around the corner, waiting for my next failing to sneak in on me. I shiver at the sound of water, a glance at a black wire, or black scuff on the floor sends me into a panic. But I must focus and finish this, so that you will know.

Feldman goes on to talk about how he spoke again to Dr. Embry a day or two after his visit. The Dr. was convinced that Feldman wasn't crazy but had had some sort of genuine encounter with something very strange. Dr. Embry suggested that Feldman get in touch with a friend of his. A professor of historical and mythological studies at Louisiana State University. Professor Emilia Miles was her name, and the Dr. believed that she might be able to shed some light on what Feldman was going through. I will begin the reading here.

May 7, 1972

Feldman's trip.

I had taken out some money to purchase the plane ticket. A round trip to New Orleans that leaves later this afternoon. I was afraid that Betty would notice the money missing, so I just told her the truth. I was going to New Orleans to meet with a professor, someone who might know about what I was experiencing. I of course, did not mention what I had seen or felt, just that this person might be able to help me with my stress. She did not take it well that I did not invite her to come along, but how could I, and not involve her any more than she already is? I felt bad, but at the same time relieved, especially after she dropped it and sulked off.

I packed my stuff for a day trip, stopped and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and made it to the airport. Checked in and sat and smoked cigarettes and read magazines in the lounge until it was time to board. I have only flown a few times, mostly in combat situations and on helicopters. Flying still bothers me. I sat in the middle row and asked for Whiskey to keep the nerves down. The flight is only a couple of hours, but I really needed the rest. The flight went well and I slept on and off, we landed at New Orleans, and it was raining. As I exited the airport, the standing water caused me concern.

I took a cab in to the university and stood outside the History building having a smoke before committing to telling my story to yet another stranger. The drab sky and misting rain made for a gothic feel standing among the old buildings of the university. I could distantly hear muffled music coming from somewhere, but I couldn't make out the tune. I mashed out my cigarette and ducked into the building. Taking my cues from the directional board set up near the entrance I made my way to the second floor via the stairs. As I walked down the shiny wooden hallway I watched as college age students passed on both sides. These kids, they have no idea what is waiting out there for them, in more ways than one.

I found the door, brass plaque read "Prof. Miles", I knocked and waited. After about a full minute I knocked again and waited some more. I felt a tap on my shoulder. A long-haired young man, full, but scraggly beard was eyeballing me from behind thick glasses. "Hey Man, if you’re looking for Professor Miles, she is in the Mythology room, Its 263 down the hall to your right." He stood blinking at me. "Thanks, are you one of Professor Miles students?" I asked as I blinked back at him. "Oh man, I wish. She is the most far out Professor here, but I'm undergraduate history, so no man, no go." He grinned a big toothy grin then loped off in the opposite direction I needed to go.

I made my way down to room 263. The door stood partially open and I could hear talking from inside. I peeked through and I could see a dark-skinned woman, I guessed in her mid-forties. She was conversing with an older man, pale skin, balding pate, and well-trimmed goatee. I caught part of their conversation.

"There are certain parameters for teaching accepted mythologies Miss Miles." He sounded stern yet also cautious. She raised her hand and turned away from him. Dr. Alberts, my title is Professor and what I teach as part of my syllabus is my own choice. You do remember that I have Tenure?" She moved to his side and picked up several very old looking books off the table and placed them in a stack in front of herself. The old man let out an indignant harrumph and started to walk away, then turned to stare at Professor Miles back. "Be careful Professor, that you don't delve too deep into things these young ones don't need to know." He then turned and somewhat startled by my standing there, moved passed me and into the hall.

I coughed as I stepped into the room. Professor Miles turned and looked at me. Her gaze was strong, knowing, and also slightly comforting. She picked up the stack of books off of the table and walked towards me. "You must be Mr. Feldman, I presume?" I nodded yes and stepped towards her. She immediately handed me the stack of books. They were heavier than I had imagined. She stepped passed me and into the hall. "Follow me Mr. Feldman, and we will be needing those books." I dutifully followed behind her as we made our way back towards her office. She unlocked the door and ushered me inside. She motioned for me to put the stack of books on the edge of her desk.

The interior of her office was something to see. Bits and Pieces, nick-nacks from all parts of the world, statues of Greek Gods in miniature, Tribal masks, Native American drawings, all sorts of things from all sorts of places. I stood and just took it all in, and as I gawked Professor Miles put her hand on my shoulder. "Beliefs, rituals, rites, gods and goddess's and everything else. That's what you see around you. My field is History and Mythology Mr. Feldman, and I have immersed myself in it since I was very young. Would you like to take a seat?" She motioned to a chair near her desk. I continued craning my neck to look at everything, it was fascinating. I finally seated myself and looked over at her. She looked steadily into my eyes. "I want you to answer a question for me, Mr. Feldman. Do you know what is real?"

I almost expected her face to break into a smile, for her to acknowledge how strange that question sounded. But instead she just continued to stare steadily at me. "Uh, well, I guess I do. I mean I am a pretty practical sort of guy. meat and potatoes dig in the dirt sort of person. Real to me seems to be what I can see, hear, touch, taste and smell." She nodded, and finally broke eye contact. She motioned to all the many bits and bobs on her shelves and desk. "All of these things, where real to someone at some time. Did you know that Mr. Feldman?" I half nodded, kind of surprised at the thought of it. "I mean, I guess people have believed in all kinds of things throughout history. But that doesn't necessarily mean those things were real. At least not real in the sense that I am saying."

She leaned back in her chair and plucked a pair of intertwined Snakes carved from dark wood off of the shelf behind her. "People believed so fully in many of these things that they would sacrifice their time, their crops, and sometimes even their loved ones to please them. Reality in a very Jungian way, is what we perceive, accept and act on. Whether or not it meets your criteria of being sensed or not doesn't seem to affect the equation Mr. Feldman. Many sacrifices have been made to that which could not be sensed." She sat the statuette down on the table, the dark, smooth wood formed into the slightly oval bodies of the snakes. I felt the hair stand up on the nape of my neck.

For a second, just a brief second, I could have sworn they moved, just ever so slightly. I startled upright into a standing position. She removed the statuette and replaced it with a small crucifix on a chain. I gave her and it a questioning look. "The snakes seemed to speak to you Mr. Feldman, but this crucifix is closer to what you know about gods and mythology. Does it move you?" I sat back down. "I was raised a Christian, if that's what you’re asking, but I've never really kept up with religion. The war kind of took that out of me." She put the crucifix away and smiled across at me. "Have you ever heard of a man named Gottfried Leibniz?"

I shook my head. "No ma'am I have not, and I don't understand what all of this is about. I came here under the impression that you could help me. Dr. Embry assured me that you might know something about what I have been experiencing. So, do you?" I was aggravated, and feeling out of my element. I had taken a trip here, made my wife mad, and now I was totally clueless as to what this woman was trying to tell me.

She sat back forward in her chair. "OK Mr. Feldman. I understand this is a strange time for you. Let me say something that you can understand. What you have been seeing, experiencing. It is very real, and very old, and now that you know about it, you will never be free of it. I am going to take you somewhere, to show you the truth. Is that ok?" At this point I didn't feel like I had much choice other than going home empty handed. "Sure, Lets go." She turned and picked up the snake statuette and one of the books then handed it to me. "We will need this, and we will take a cab." She grabbed her jacket and an umbrella, and we walked into the hall. She locked her office door and then looked at me intently. "There is no turning back from here Mr. Feldman." I felt the anxiety rise up inside, but I pushed it back down and followed her out.

The cab ride took us deep into the city. We bypassed all the tourist areas and finally found ourselves in a dilapidated, shady looking neighborhood, near one of the water breaks. The place was as seedy as you might imagine, rundown buildings, graffiti was the prevailing art form, and no one I could see looked like they were enjoying their lives. Professor Miles gave a tip to the driver and told him to leave. He seemed to gladly do so. As we stood on the cracked sidewalk with weeds growing up out of the crevasses, all I could smell was dirty water, and hot concrete. Miles waved me forward and began walking towards several squat buildings across the street. The buildings where painted in bright colors, compared to the drab surroundings nearby, but still appeared rotten and near needing to be condemned.

She approached the door of the building and then held her hand up to signal me to stay put. She knocked and after a few seconds I saw a large dark-skinned fellow with a shiny bald head open the door. A smaller, weasley looking white guy with at least two days scruff on his chin gave Miles the once over and then stepped up to speak with her. I couldn't make out their conversation, but it implied that she was convincing him to let me and her in the building. After a minute or two of talk and the exchange of some cash the squirrely little guy motioned me forward. He squinted at me and looked me up and down. "Y'aint gonna like this Tex. Y'aint gonna like this at all." He said as the big man's stick came down on the back of my neck.

I awoke in the trunk of a moving vehicle. My hands tied behind my back and my feet tied together. I was laying on my stomach on top of what must have been a spare tire. All I could smell where gas fumes and oil. The car jumped as it hit bumps in the road and the tire jammed into my ribs hard. I groaned and tried to adjust me eyes to the dark. Glancing around I could not see much of anything. The car continued to bump and jostle about as it seemed to pick up speed. I was able to turn on my side and give myself a better view of my surroundings. I could see the latch mechanism of the trunk as well as what appeared to be a tire iron in the area between the Spare and the rear of the compartment. I wiggled my way towards it and was able to get an idea of its position in my head.

I then worked on flipping the opposite direction, to put my hands in place to try and grab the Tire tool. It took a few minutes of frustrating flopping about and straining my hands and shoulder, but I finally got a grasp on it. Using the sharp end of the tool I managed to start scoring into the Tape that was tying my hands. After several minutes I was able to cut through the tape and free my hands. I flipped over and started on my feet. It was about this time that I felt the car starting to slow down. I could hear that we had turned off on a gravel or dirt road. I furiously worked at untying my feet and keeping my head.

The little shifty guy was the one who opened the trunk and got the tire iron right in the side of his head. I rolled out of the trunk and then reversed direction and rolled underneath the car. The ground around me was sloppy wet and making squishing noises below me. I could see the big guys feet as they hit the ground from the rear driver’s side door. A solid shot to the right ankle brought big boy to the ground, hollering loud and cursing like a sailor with a broken ankle. I rolled out from under the car just in time to come up and see Miles getting out of the Passenger side front door. She turned and smiled at me.

I took a step towards her, tire tool raised on high. She raised her hand out of her jacket and I saw the pistol there, a little .32 Caliber black piece. She motioned for me to put down the iron and back up. I did so, reluctantly. She moved forward and kicked the tool away from my reach. She smiled again and looked into my eyes with that steady intensity. "You have made a mistake Mr. Feldman; we were not going to harm you. It’s just that to bring you here it had to be in full secrecy." I felt the lump on the back of my head. Short and shady was still snoring at the back of the car, and big boy was trying to pull himself up on the car frame and grunting in pain for the effort. I backed away and turned myself so I could keep an eye on all three. "You could have just blindfolded me or asked me to keep it quiet. The lump on my head tells me you are lying about harming me. Where are we, and why bring me out in the middle of the damn swamp?" I was getting very angry at this point.

She told big boy to sit down, and scoot over and check on the little guy. She then motioned for me to move off to my right. I complied, still positioning to keep them all in sight. She picked up the Tire tool and then walked around and handed it to big boy. "Keep this and keep an eye on Randy till he wakes up. Don't let a gator sneak up on you." She gave these instruction as she kept an eye on me. She then returned and put the gun down to her side. "Do I need this gun Mr. Feldman? Or do you really want to know what is happening to you?" I put my hands up in front of me. "Right now, lady, I'm half way to wringing your neck, but I am also wanting to know what this is all about. Give me some answers and maybe I will rethink my position!"

She smiled again and took on a more relaxed pose. "Alright, understandable in the situation. She nodded over her shoulder. "Walk this way Feldman, just through those trees over there, and you will see why I brought you out here and why it needs to be kept secret." I followed her motion, about 30 yards away was a slight downhill turn and past that a copse of Willow trees. I walked past her, turning slightly to keep an eye on her. She followed about five feet behind me. "Just keep going towards the trees. Once there it will be obvious, and I will answer your questions, as best I can." I grunted out an obscenity or two and then waded through the knee-high grass down the hill. The stinking swamp mud squelching under my boots. I wanted to run or fight but I didn't feel I could get far in this mud and muck.

As I reach the edge of the trees, I caught a movement off to my left. Several large black shapes moving along at ground level. Snakes, three at least, 6 to 8 feet long each. They were on a parallel course for the trees. I pulled up short, and pointed to them, making it clear I did not want to get any closer. She waved her hand and motioned me forward. "Don't worry about them, just black snakes, harmless." She laughed at my fear. I was not so sure they were harmless, so I skirted a bit to my left to avoid entering where they had disappeared. I step through the tree branches, moving them aside as I carefully scanned for more creepy crawlies. It was as I made my way into the center of the circle of trees that I saw it.

Black and shiny, slightly pyramidal at its top and having four shear sides. The thing was about 6 feet high sticking up out of the muck and mire of the black water standing around it. Several Black snakes where coiled in the grass surrounding the pond that was home to this...thing. I could see movement in the water, little shoots of activity, little black slivers of terror, hundreds of them. I remembered this...down in that pit. I quickly started to scramble backwards, losing my breath and my mind as the horror of it took over. Miles was there, she caught me as I fell backwards. She whispered in my ear, "Don't run, just breathe. Look at it, you wanted answers, so look at it and face your fear."

I lay there, water seeping into my clothes, and fear into the deepest part of my brain, and I tried to breathe. I'm not sure how long it took for the fear to fade enough for me to speak. "What ... what is it?" I half whispered; half barked. Even though she had me at gunpoint just a few moments before, Miles words where soothing, if for no other reason than she was human, she was like me and not this alien essence that permeated my vision. "They were here long before us. This is a node, a sort of transport system for them. There are many of these, all over the Earth, so they can move back and forth easily."

I turned so I could see her face, I wanted her to be lying, I needed her to be lying, to laugh in my face and tell how absurd it all sounded and that it was a joke...and she was just looking at me, calm, stony faced. I pushed my fists into the mud and tried to stand, slid and fell back down. "We gotta burn them out, destroy them...do you have gasoline in the car? A gas can or motor oil!? I was screaming this at her face as I tried to get up again. She just sat there, looking at me as the water soaked into her clothing. A few stray tears ran down her face. She put her hand up to my face, slightly caressing it.

"Mr. Feldman, you can't stop them. Even if you burn this node, get a hammer and crush it, kill everything within a mile radius...you don't understand. They are everywhere! They are in everything, any contact you have with water, puts you in contact with them. They are small, but are mentally very strong, capable of infecting our dreams, our thoughts and eating away at our hopes. That's what they do you know...they feed on us. Not our flesh, but they feed on our negative emotions, fear, sorrow, anger, hopelessness...it is sweet to them, it is the reason they keep us around.

The nausea and vomiting lasted most of the night. I had read the ending to Feldman's journal before, years ago, but rereading it just brought back the horror in a rotting fresh way. I am functional enough now that I think I can finish this story. I took an Uber downtown earlier, had some business to tend to, and bought some drink. I know it may not play well with my meds, but at this point I don't really care. I made my way back home with my new purchase and fortified myself in my room again. I have turned off all water to the apartment and have stuffed the toilet and drains with rags and towels. I bought some silicone caulk while I was out, to do the doors with, and the sliding glass to the patio.

I want to finish telling the story of Feldman, it didn't quite end where I left off. Though the rest is very hard to read. He made his way back home after learning what he could from Professor Miles. She believed the entities to have been from the very earliest epochs of Earth's history, perhaps even of alien or other dimensional origin. Feldman was overwhelmed by it all and not having any real education in such ideas he really didn't know what to think or do. Professor Miles made sure he understood that once he knew that he would never be free of them.

Feldman flew back to Houston and did the only thing he could think of to protect the people he loved. He disappeared, took what he could and left in the night while Betty was sleeping. He cut off all contact with anyone he cared about, and he eventually found himself in the house on Clodine road. The one where our stories would cross paths. I'm not sure what happened to his body, but it was clear that he had given up, allowed the entities to overtake him. I shivered and dry heaved at the thought.

I for one, would not let that happen to me. I would not become a puppet for these insidious creatures. I understand now, the creatures have an agenda, they keep us at each other’s throats. The government, religion, politics, the economy, the wars, racism, and hate are their tools. They have been among us since the beginning, we are their cattle, their produce and our earth is their shopping mart. They squeeze from us every ounce of sorrow, apathy, bitterness, anger, hatred and violence, and drink its sweet nectar to fill their ever-starving bellies.

I know their names now; I know them, and they are aware of me. They have been called soul, and ego, and in us, they have wiggled and crawled from the muck and tainted blackness of our history and planted themselves in our heads...they are hubris, and greed, gluttony and strife and their King is fear and their Queen is deceit. We cannot be rid of them. Do not drink! Do not bathe! Do not Swim! They connect to us through water and destroy us from within. I will stay here, I will allow myself to desiccate, until I have purified myself...and I bought a shotgun this morning...Just in case.

Beware friends...for now, you know the names.