Life Diverted Part 1 Childhood Chapter 24 Cry Havoc
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"Get a message to Bob Zaglinder. Tell him it's time to feed the ducks. Noon today ... he'll understand," Presidential Chief of Staff Barnes called out to his secretary in her outer office.
"Right away, Chief. You've got that missile defense contract group coming in at 12:15. Do I cancel, or reschedule?"
"Tell them to go ... oh, never mind. Reschedule. Tell them to make it dinner, a free evening next week, on their dime. A really big dime or it isn't worth wasting my time."
"You got it, Chief!"
The two men sat at an isolated park bench near a small pond. Zaglinder was tossing dried bread chunks to the impatient, squabbling ducks.
"I think it's time to ramp things up," Barnes instructed. "Do you remember the ideas from our conversation with Bauer, the dirty tricks guy?"
"Yeh, I do ... but are you sure? That's a pretty extreme call, and it won't be cheap. Not even those psychos he's got on the string like ... doing stuff ... to kids."
"Get over it. We're in this for a lot worse than that, before this is all over. Tell him to use both ideas, but to make them happen close together. Make it happen in the same week. We want the backlash to erupt like a tidal wave of grief, anger, and retaliation. No halfway measures. We want the full impact. This is only step one of a much bigger plan. Bob, make sure that your dirty tricks guys pull this off. Offer them a fat bonus to be sure it comes off really big!"
"Okay..." Bob sighed. He tossed the last handful of dried crusts to the ducks. "I just hope this doesn't blow up in our faces. It's a pretty ugly thing, you know?"
"This is nothing, Bob. You have no idea how big an ugly thing will be coming. All in its own time, Bob ... all in its own good time."
Samantha Edgars and her friend Rebecca Jameson had just left the community playground on a mild Saturday afternoon. There was no traffic around their rural eastern Washington neighborhood, except for a dark van parked a short way down the street. They were laughing and giggling as they walked, and did not hear the van move up the street to pull alongside. The 'snatch and grab' operation happened so quickly that no one heard the brief squeals of fear and protest; the side door slammed shut and the van pulled slowly away. Moments later it was on the main highway leading out of town.
"This is KTCA-TV, five o'clock news for the Tri-Cities area. State and local authorities continue to investigate the apparent kidnapping and killing of two area children, ages 9 and 10, from their southside neighborhood. Few details have been released to date, but a source tells our reporter Kevin Lockwood that the girls mutilated bodies were found in an isolated area, and all signs point to devil worship rituals. Stay tuned for more details following this message..."
The news erupted in the region like a flash fire, and quickly spread to all the national news outlets. Tearful parents were interviewed who denied any knowledge of "devil worshipers" in their city, or of any possible reason for their girls to be taken.
"We've been faithful followers of the blessed Rev. Chase Evans McClayne and his holy God in Glory Church of the Primal Revelation, ever since that holy man started warning us--all God's faithful--about them heathen people, and that awful Utah cult, and those space aliens! God knows, we've always protected our precious Samantha," Mrs. Edgars sobbed. "It's awful, just awful. Our sweet child, taken by those monsters!" she cried. "We pray for her sweet soul ... we just know she's in the loving arms of Blessed Jesus ... and we know that God in Heaven will rain punishment and retribution down on those monsters who did this! I just know it, and I pray it will be SOON!" she screamed into the camera.
Every detail of the crime scene was played endlessly on national television. An elaborate altar of cemented stone was centered in a cleared area. A banner still hung between two small trees in the background, displaying an elaborate matrix of symbols. Stone slabs set in a circle around the altar seemed to be positioned for ritual participants. The ground all around was packed hard as if by many feet, and was swept clean of litter.
The cameras focused on the concave top of the stone altar where a thick residue of blood had collected. More blood had run down the sides. Feathered fetish objects, circles of beads and stones on leather thongs, were set around the edge of the blood pool atop the altar.
The crime and its location was called in on the county 911 line. It was an anonymous tip. Attempts to trace the call were unsuccessful.
"There is no doubt whatsoever," the commentator exclaimed. "We have independent verification from accredited expert witnesses that those blood-soaked fetish objects are of Native American origin, of a type commonly found here in the inland Pacific Northwest region. But even more baffling," the reporter intoned, staring angrily into the camera lens, "is the collection of symbols on the banner behind me. I'm informed that they are associated not only with Satanic cults, but are also commonly found embroidered into the sleeves and legs of Mormon undergarments, worn by all practicing members of that religion!
"This stinks to high heaven," Deputy Saunders commented to Sheriff Watkins, watching the latest newscast from the Spokane channel. "How did those TV guys get such free access to that crime scene? And how is it that all of that evidence ... that altar, the ground with its possible footprints, and ... my God, those fetishes and that banner, and all that blood! ... why was all of that left there, unprotected for those news guys to touch and tromp around in, shooting their video footage?"
We dozed for a long time, drifting in and out of a pleasurable nap brought on by the soporific afterglow of the pleasure we'd just completed. Not unexpectedly, I had dreams of a sexual nature. I held Kim's naked body against me; our spent sex organs nestled together at our groins, and my hand cupping one breast. Behind Kim, her daughter Crystal lay naked and tightly against her mother's body; one arm wrapped around and cupping Kim's other breast. Ellen had spooned behind me; her erect...
Monokuma giggled. With this new power and technology, he could make the game a lot more pleasurable. With this, he could install any kind of trigger into anyone! Passive triggers, active triggers, he could totally change the behavior of anyone! But using it to make murders happen is a little too easy. Why not use it for something else... something fun? Maybe even subject someone to a brand new game? Note for incoming writers: I highly encourage you to add chapters to my story. If you are...
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Book Three: The Rogue's Passionate Harem Part Three: The Crystalline Dildo By mypenname3000 Copyright 2018 Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this. Chapter Seven: The Crystalline Dildo Princess Ava – Az, Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch I gasped in shock at the Valyan acolyte kneeling before me. Why did she call me “Masterwork Craft”? What an absolutely unflattering thing to call me. Why not your highness? Or my lady? Or even your beatific? Masterwork...
While Crystal's Away Mice Will Play By Paul G. Jutras As Crystal finished packing her bags she stood looking her best in her red blazer, skirt, three-inch pumps and matching purse. A necklace brushed above her breasts and against her white blouse and her nude hose swished back and forth against her skin as she walked about the house for last minute thoughts. "Now I want all you girls to behave yourself." Crystal talked to her girls as she checked the alarms, fixed the temp...
The next morning, in his office, Jack was still nervous about the coming confrontation with Lansing. Besides that, he was worried because last night he didn’t dream about that ancient city. First, I worry about the dreams, now I’m worried because I didn’t dream, he thought. “Construct, how could I have one of those dreams before I found the crystal?” “Lord, as I told you, I know nothing of your dreams except what you have told me. Perhaps when the earthquake exposed the crystal, its power...
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THE UNKNOWN ARTIST AND THE CRYPT OF ANONYMITYFurthermore, I soon realized that I would need to "learn" the highly personnal vocabulary with which the Unknown Artist conjures up a world. And He said : All around passagers, faceless, nameless, Mister X, unspeakable news in brief, c***dren of the night (protect them), night a****ls (protect them), discreet avengers, anonymous photographers (yes, you are), burlesque, broken houses, grotesque, clandestine souls, invisible walkers, please come into...
“Well, it was going to happen sooner or later,” said Jack. “Yes, Lord. The only way you could have possibly prevented this was by taking control of each and every person that Solana and Lansing controlled. Their chief concubine was important, but unless you controlled them all, they would begin slipping from your control and begin acting independently. That is probably what they were able to detect.” Jack sighed. He had taken both Maria Solana and Caroline Hudson to delay the Order’s...
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Jack didn’t know what to say, and for once, neither did Construct. Instead, without the power that the crystals of the Order were providing, he knew people would begin to investigate what was happening in the bungalow. He needed to leave quickly. Jack used his handkerchief to turn the doorknob to open the front door. He stepped out and walked away, using his power to make anybody around ignore him. He continued through the hotel and out to the street, tossing the passkey into a garbage can...
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It was well after midnight when Jack felt himself stir awake. Sharley had done a magnificent job of wearing him out, and the bed was in the same wrecked condition they had left it that afternoon. She was now sleeping deeply, her nightie a thing of the past, and had collapsed finally in utter orgasmic bliss. Jack had slept soundly for a few hours but had woken shortly before two. “I seem to be sleeping less,” he commented. “Yes, Lord, that is to be expected. Your mental powers are continuing...
Jesse was alone in the motel room. On a road trip into the past, along old Route 66. Sitting and thinking back on the time when he had lived just a few miles from this very town. On this Friday evening he was studying nostalgia. He'd been only nine years old. And his world had shattered and then been put back together as something completely different. It wasn't his fault, but he had paid the cost. He still remembered the sense of loss and pain as he sat here in the room, listening to, but not...
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