CHAPTER ONE Poor Ricard

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Richard was a part time criminal with a full-time drug habit, and one who had been in and out of prison because of it. He had just completed one year served, on a two-year term, for dealing to an undercover narcotics officer. His parents had money, and access to expensive attorneys, but with Richards obsessive addiction, it was difficult for even them to keep him out of trouble.

This was tragic because Richard was not your typical troubled rich-kid gone bad. He was highly intelligent, heavy into philosophy, the arts, and music (especially the guitar), which he learned to play at an early age.

Richard had always been a quiet child, and his parents worried about him developing social skills, they did not want him spending his afternoons brooding away by himself in his room alone. Not healthy.

His parents enrolled him for guitar lessons at the local music store, a posh, trendy, expensive venue, and thought music might be a positive outlet for Ricard when he started having problems adjusting in the fourth grade. And he kept up with his lessons, now he was quite good.

He even joined a band in high-school. And playing in a band gave Richard the opportunity to make friends, even if his parents didn’t always approve of them, which was important because playing in a band gave him a chance at an otherwise unobtainable social life.

It would surprise many of his “rocker” friends, to know that when he was home (usually grounded), Richard would watch documentaries, like those featured on the History Channel. This was something he would never do if his friends were over. Or admit too if he was caught, as they showed up often, and unannounced, especially when they knew his parents weren’t home.

Richard had developed two personalities, not a split personality. One public and one private. And despite his appearance of ripped jeans, black T-shirts, and canvas tennis shoes, there was much more to Richard than his “I don’t give a fuck about nothing rebel attitude.” Because he did.

In fact, he felt more, not less, than the average teen (or the average person for that matter) and he contemplated things on a much deeper level. He read a lot when he was alone, and he never wasted a moment of his intellect in or out of school. But he kept it well hidden. Richard was highly intelligent, if not highly motivated.

One weekend Richard caught an episode of the History Channel featuring Allister Crowley, the wickedest man who ever lived, which was quite a title considering that Adolf Hitler was also alive at the same time, and responsible for the extermination of six million Jews.

After that episode, Richard became fascinated with Crowley. The episode was ambiguous at best, superficial, sterile, and glossed over, but Richard started doing his own research on his personal computer.

No one could have guessed, that the computer would have surpass even the television in its popularity. Crowley was a shadowy figure to say the least, but his practice in Satanism and Black Magic was more about power, than evil done for evil sake. Ironically, Richard and Crowley, had several things in common, the first of which, they both came from a family with money.

Two, they both lost their father at an early age. And three they were both raised Catholic, which they hated. Fucking Hated!!! Richard never worshiped the Devil, but he had sympathy for the Devil. God was the one responsible for the misery of creation, not the Devil, the Devil was just the scrape-goat.

The Devil never created, the bible alludes the Devil cannot create, only destroy. And who was his enemies, enemy? Richard could appreciate the hypocrisy that Crowley exposed in the Catholic and other religions. Crowley considered the Catholics the most superficial, if admittedly, the most practiced.

Compared to other’s religions like the Amish, who practiced their faith as a living community, who actually helped each other survive, all day every day, the Catholics didn’t even pale by comparison. The Amish congregation was more of an extended family, and there was no “weakest link,” that concept didn’t exist in the Amish Community. A lot to be said for that.

Catholics by contrast had priests who molested and raped Alter Boys, and when exposed were protected by the church, not punished. Then those same priests were transferred to other parishes to avoid legal prosecution, bad publicity, and expensive settlements. The families were either payed off, discredited, or ostracized. But Crowley was not just another disgruntled altar boy, with a secret, he argued that Free-Will itself, was an illusion, and that no one had a choice about existence, life was forced upon us.  And so were our circumstances.

That made free-will itself was an illusion. There was a theory, the basis of Satanism, something that originated long before Crowley, that there was a hole in the soul of every sentient being, an emptiness, a pit, a void. A microscopic black-hole. Some could recognize it, others could not. But the effects of the void were there regardless. And many tried to fill this void without even realizing it. Alcohol, Food, Gossip, News, Movies, Murder, Politics, Sex, Television, Technology, Violence, and War.

Some might describe these obsessions to fill the void, as the basis as the seven deadly sins: Anger, Greed, Gluttony, Lazy, Lust, Pride, and Vanity. And all to avoid the truth. The truth was ugly, they tried to fill instead of facing it, because the truth was too disturbing. Maybe overwhelming. But it was this truth that was also the underlying reason for all the other problems that plagued the human condition.  And what was this “truth???”

It was the “Why???”

“Why was I created???”

And the reason all the other conditions the plagued the human condition existed. And No religion could answer “The Why, ???” so they avoided it. Even the Buddhists, most humane of any religion said, “Life was Suffering, way before the Satanists like Allister Crowley popularized it.

Like Crowley, Richard had an intelligent sensitivity, and a cynical disposition. Even as a youth in church Richard wondered why? Why, if God truly loved man, would he set him apart from Heaven and into the such a horrible world where he was destined to fail in the first place?  That’s what Crowley meant with his “Do What Thou Wilt” “If you can find any happiness, then find it, Crowley proclaimed!!!” Or said another way, the pursuit of happiness.

Crowley was considered an evil man, and rightfully so, but it wasn’t mass murder, or mass orgies, that was the biggest enemy of human kind. He thought that boredom was the biggest problem that plagued the human condition.

Boredom wasn’t a sin, it was worse than a sin. Boredom led you to the conclusion that life itself had no purpose. This underlying feeling of “no purpose,” created boredom, and that’s why the seven deadly sins were invented as distractions from facing the truth.

Finally, Richard, like Crowley, considered himself superior to the rest of the human’s population, an exception, despite his short-comings. It wasn’t anything that he had or did, but something rather innate.  If anything, he was aware of his circumstances, most other people didn’t even have a clue, or didn’t have the intelligence to understand when you tried to explain it to them. Most didn’t want to be bothered.

They wanted to live in denial. But Richard like Crowley had the “awareness,” and that’s when he superiority was seeded.  Most didn’t even have a clue. Awareness was the beginning of real power.

Richard was looking for an edge. Something to give him a realistic advantage, some esoteric power or knowledge that nobody else knew or could understand, that would compensate for the things he lacked.

He would build from there. Richard had the both the time and luxury of indulgence because he had a very comfortable upbringing provided by his wealthy parents. They were both professional people. His father was a doctor, and his mother owned a successful business in her own right.

Ella, his mother had even gone to school but never opened her own restaurant because she got pregnant with Richard before she graduated. But she was good. David, his father was a doctor, a workaholic, who was never home. And Ella his mother spent most of her time home alone because of it.

When Richard went at home, taking care of him was enough, but after he started school, she had too much time on her hands.  Her husband didn’t want another child. So, she kept her self-busy with her friend and then charity work, but she was so dedicated that if she was going to work, why didn’t she get paid for it.

Now as she got older the years seem to fly past, and she found herself, more and more alone with the passing with each of them. Ella needed to distract herself from her marital problems, the emptiness of always being alone.

She knew something was wrong, but she didn’t know what it was. Doctor Poor had been having an affair with a very attractive nurse half his age. The rumors had got back to her, and when confronted, he denied it. Ella wanted her husband home more, and she even threatened to start her own catering business.

She had always wanted to open her own restaurant one day. But Ella, put all her dreams on hold to be a good wife and mother instead, and when her husband David called her bluff what choice did she have but to go thru with it.

With both his parents gone, it made it much easier for Richard to stay out of sight. When he wasn’t home he didn’t have to answer questions, make excuses, or lie. When he was older, he would usually do his homework upstairs because that’s where his computer was anyway, in his bedroom.

Or where he would practice his guitar lessons for the week, or when he would study “The Satanic Bible.”  He had every verse memorized. But he only kept them on his computer, he never printed them out or bought any books. No evidence and nothing that could be traced.

They were all ways to avoid small talk, that would just lead to other questions, what Richard considered an interrogation. In fact, sometimes Richard thought his father should have been a police detective instead of a surgeon.

Richard avoided arguments, at home and in school, and avoided getting into trouble in general for the most part, and it worked when he was younger.

But as he got older he had a penchant for being at the wrong place, at the wrong time. And then one day his parents were called into the Principals Office, when it was discovered that Richard was using, he was discovered higher than a kite by one of his teachers. Richard thought he had it well hidden, but this teacher had a child that had overdosed and died, ten years earlier, so she knew the signs the other teachers missed, and notified the principle. He was only in the ninth grade.

A doctor’s son. The school kept it quiet, but he was suspended for the rest of the week. The trio didn’t say a word on the car ride home, but both parents were crying hysterically but the time they got home. Doctor Poor was so distraught that he really wasn’t fit to drive. Richard in the back, his high long vanished. When they were in house, his mother Ella, begged her husband David to calm down, and wait at least an hour before he punished Richard.

She was always protecting him, always enabling him, that’s why he was fucked up now, so he gently pushed her into a hall closet and locked her in, so she could not prevent or watch him, while he did what needed to be done.  Richard was shocked he had never seen his father put his hands on his mother let alone lock her in a hall closet, then he realized how much trouble he was in.

Doctor Poor said calmly to his son, “I have to give to something to clean that junk out of your system, please lay on your bed, and give me your arm.” Richard did so, his father was a doctor after-all, so after he cotton swabbed his arm gently, with the alcohol prep pad, he injected him with a drug similar to Atracurium, which paralyzed his body, so he couldn’t move, but allowed him to breath, and allowed him to feel. The Army called it “The Torture Drug.”

Richard couldn’t even talk, and that’ when his father undressed him head to toe, took out a rubber hose about 18” long coated in latex, and beat his son mercilessly. In the army right after he graduated medical school, he had to torture “detainees” captured during the war for information.

The tube did not leave any marks and any bruises would be internal, but he hit Ricard so hard in the jaw that it cracked one of his molars in half, and it started bleeding, the blood flowed just enough so that Richard was able to swallow it without choking.

His father locked his bedroom door from the inside. Then he opened the closet door, the one his wife had been screaming her son’s name thru the entire time. When he opened the door, she fell to the floor like a heap of junk that had been piled up on the other side, and when she looked up pathetic and helpless, she shields her eyes, looking up at him, blinded by the light.

I gave Richard something to clean out his system, he’s asleep now, and I do not want him disturbed until I get home, I want to discuss Military School, as an option, this drug problem of his could destroy my reputation, my practice, everything I worked so hard for, if this continues, I may never be able to work as a doctor again, my reputation destroyed, a doctors son a junkie!!!”

Then he let her go, and she just collapsed on the floor again, sobbing miserable, until she heard him walk down the steps and listened for him to leave through the front door. A week later when Richard was back at school, his father called his wife from the Hospital, and decided to meet her early for lunch at the house to sit down again, and calmly discuss what they wanted to do regarding Richard.

Ella said that it was the influence of his friends and the music he listened to, all that distorted heavy-metal, suicidal grunge, ghetto rap, and nihilistic punk rock. God only knows what else he was in too???  They went through his room with a fine-tooth comb, under the matrices, on top of the ceiling panels, and threw everything out that was drug related, and everything heavy metal or hip-hop related as well, gansta rap had re-emerged a second time.

DVDs, Posters, Lyric Sheets, Guitars, Amps, Everything. All his extra money was confiscated, and the even his computer was thrown out. When they were done his room was barren. It looked like he was robbed. He didn’t have any books on Black Magic, or Devil Worshiping, because he had accessed much of that from the Internet, and his father had confiscated that.

There would be no loopholes. His friends were no longer allowed in the house, nor was he allowed to associate with them outside of school. He was told that he was going to a drug treatment hospital, Rehab, even if that meant leaving school early, and when he refused, he was warned that the only other option his was a military correctional school, because his behavior threatened his fathers’ practice, and they couldn’t have that. Even his mother agreed.

Richard was their only child, and after she bore him there were complications, so she couldn’t have any more children. David, his father was a doctor, but he was not responsible for that, obstetrics was not his specialty, he had not been the delivering doctor, or even assisted, which would have been against hospital policy anyway. His mother said something was wrong and this was his cry for help.

“A cry for help?” David Poor mused, Unlikely. “We’ll get him the help he needs, please don’t send off my only son off to Military School, she begged her husband.” “Even if it saves his life, he replied???”

Ricard was sent to a private hospital a month before his summer vacation that specialized in problematic youths with substance abuse and was diagnosed with clinical depression. The doctors suggested several popular and well known, medications to help him.

They clinic had an excellent reputation, they were a private hospital, very expensive, who sincerely wanted to help Richard, and they did!!! Now Richard developed an even bigger network of contacts, and he had access to pharmaceutical grade medication, which was the best. Especially when combined with alcohol because it burned much more evenly.

There was a brief period when Richard’s only took his prescribed medication as directed, with no street drugs. But when he did, he didn’t feel depression, he didn’t feel anything. Least of all human, the medication affected him in unexpected ways. It flipped his depression to anger and gave him unpredictable and sometimes violent mood-swings.

Richard didn’t like the medication, not because people on medication where all thought to be crazy, even when they weren’t. It was because the medication with its side effects was worse than the illness itself. He felt “high” on the street medication, he felt “nothing” on prescription medication.

And that wasn’t fair, like a punishment, and a huge disadvantage for someone just trying to live a normal life. That’s was why Richard started using street drugs in the first place, to feel better. He was simple self-medicating.

Richard instinctively knew something was wrong, he didn’t need any doctors to tell him that. Maybe to a lesser extent that’s why he was searching for answers, even thru Black Magic. He thought his “Clinical Depression” was a punishment from God, where you had to take pill just to want to stay alive.  Why bother??? God set you up to fail.

Richard didn’t love the Devil, but he hated God. He would never worship so merciless a being. Creation was a form of slavery, based on suffering, and only the genius could see that. He kept his black magic practice a secret from everybody, including the staff at the hospital he was attending.

Some of the female members in his group-therapy admitted that they practiced Wicca (Witchcraft), but Black Magic was not the same thing, even thou it was thought to be so. When he was released Richard told his friends that he had been in rehab as opposed to a mental hospital. Same difference.

After things settled down and the new school year began, things were back to normal, and everything was seemed to be on tract again. After he attended school the next year, none of his friends knew Richard practiced black magic, but they frequently commented on his back luck. Richard Poor became Poor Richard, the Cursed. He would only laugh.

His friends still couldn’t visit him at his house, but he saw them at school, and sometimes he could get away long enough to get high at their houses, a few of his friends were even at the same hospital he was at, but they were only in for a couple weeks, and not the entire summer like he was.

After he was discharged, he still had to attend outpatient once a week. But this was the only alternative to keeping him out of Military school. Richard’s father was a military man, an officer. And he wanted Richard to follow in his footsteps. Instead he had grown up to be the complete opposite. He let his hair grow long, dress sloppy, and developed a slacker disposition.

Richard the rebel, did not fit into his father’s military mold. But after he graduated the Military would change all that. Richard already decided that he would never join the Military as he had already made up his mind how the Military (and the rest of the world worked for that matter), he just hadn’t shared that wisdom with his father yet. The Military was a tool of The Globalist and they extorted money by starting wars all over the world and selling the same weapons to both sides.

To date we were in the longest war in the history of the world and one designed to never end. Why start and stop a war every twenty year when it was so much easier to just perpetuate an existing one??? Population control was the only real objective, a smaller population was so much easier to control than a larger one. War was just another safe-guard to help keep the people who were in power; stay in power.

The timing of events that happened next could not have been worse if they had been prescribed. Doctor Poor who was a Captain in the Army soon received word that would be returning to active duty. Now besides calling in the reserves, they had even reinstated the Draft. Dr. David Poor had gone to medical school on the G.I Bill with the possibility of reassignment, this was a condition of the Military paying for his education, after he enlisted.

Doctor David Poor, after his reinstatement had been near the front line in Iran, less than six months, when  the entire Medical Compound, was overrun by Jihadists, less commonly known as religious terrorists, and one of the rebels with a bomb strapped to his chest ran into the operating room and jumped on top of the patient (an American soldier eighteen years old with a head wound), Doctor Poor was operating on, just before it exploded.

Dr. Poor and the rest of his medical team were killed instantly. Richard found out when he was still in school that day, he was taking a math test when he got the announcement over the intercom.

The Principals secretary had that undertone of doom in her voice, as she requested him to the office. Richard sat in the back so everyone in class could turn around to look at him before he collected his books and walked up the aisle. He knew something terrible had happened, but what?

“Lucky, one of his idiot friends said as Richard walked up the aisle, apparently referring to getting out of taking the math test in progress, one that Richard had already aced.” In the hallway, when he was alone, he thought to himself what the worst possible thing that you could think of, His father dying of course.

While he was walking down the empty hallway he stopped at the hall adjunct. He could turn left or right, and for a moment he wanted to run in the opposite direction, the one that led away from the principal’s office. Maybe if he did, he could change the outcome. Whatever that outcome was.

His father’s death of course!!! Just run out the side door of the school. Run home to your mother, he thought. She would be waiting for him at home, and he could forget whatever was waiting for him at the office.  And deal with that another day, tomorrow maybe, or the day after or maybe the next. But of course, he did go to the office, because that’s where his mother was waiting, and he knew it.

And just before he opened the office door, he saw her thru the long, thin, vertical, window, that was crisscrossed with thin wire mesh (for some unknown reason). He studied her, she had been crying, his worse fears had been confirmed. He waited for what seemed like an eternity before he twisted the knob. Then he took a deep breath, because he knew he had to be strong for his mom, and after he walked him, both his mother and aunt (out of sight at the time), waiting for him, burst into tears in synchronicity. He tried not to cry but he could not stop himself because to see his mother in such grief was so horrible and overwhelming.

She became near hysterical shortly afterward, trying to explain what happened. It was easy to blame his father’s death for his continued substance abuse but everyone who knew Richard, knew that he was already into drugs, way before his family’s tragedy. And his father’s death was simply the nail in the coffin. No pun intended.

After his father’s Death, his drug abuse become more severe, as drug addiction is a progressive disease. But even if his father had lived, there were many who doubted that he could have prevented Richard from being an addict. Many people who weren’t his friend, who didn’t know him, did not have any pity for him, and thought of him as an embarrassment to his family.

The black sheep. Before the funeral, Richard cut his hair, bought a suit, and wrote a small Eulogy that he had written himself; and it rivaled that of the Catholic Priest, his father would have been proud of him in Death, if not in Life. Richard figured that all his father ever saw in him was the worst, Richard never had a chance to show him the best. Now he had lost that chance forever.

And that too was a tragedy. After he graduated high school, he started college, and joined some of the Satanic Underground Meetings surprising somewhere held on campus, but he found most members, if not all, to be depraved.

Poor, desperate, violent, lost and mentally ill misfits who didn’t fit or could function in any aspect of society, rather than true believers of the faith. He was very disappointed and continued his studies on his own.

Richard himself never sacrificed animals, killed babies or ran around naked in the woods, in fact, he didn’t even like to go hunting with his dad, who kept a loaded rifle in his bedroom closet. But he studied the under-lying principals behind Satanism, Black Magic, and Witchcraft. And many other sacred teachings from all over the world. Richard was into the power behind the evil.

Evil just seemed to be a catalyst that seemed to bring results faster, much faster than prayers. He was a technical person, maybe he even fancied himself to be the next Allister Crowley.  But many of his old friends avoided him, because they sensed a change in him, and they thought he was cursed.

He would get in trouble easily three times as often as any of his friends doing the same thing. And after a series of minor infractions, one weekend was the straw that broke the camel’s back, Ricard had been arrested in a raid for substance abuse.  A very attractive female who worked as an undercover narcotics officer, had infiltrated the group for months.

Attractive females were always welcome, and trusted much more so than their male counterparts, under any circumstances. She dealt drugs, slept with members of the same cliché, and orchestrated everything, right up until the night of the raid, the night everyone was arrested including Richard.

So even after high-school, Richard had not seemed to make very much progress with his studies, because his pattern of arrests continued, until he eventually landed himself in prison.

Ella, his mother had lost both her husband and her son, and now she was alone, just like she felt she had been, and under the advice of her family attorney, she very reluctantly decided that if she couldn’t save her husband maybe she could still save her son. And instead of getting him out, she let him stay in, even thou it killed her to do so. She wouldn’t even take his calls from Prison.

He had made the same mistake once too many times. And now she wanted to finish teaching him the lesson that her late husband had started. And then the next winter, while Richard was still incarcerated, she came down with a case of pneumonia, which normally is not serious, but she had complications, and that led to other problems, and one night her weakened heart failed her, and she died.

Some say she died of a broken heart instead of a heart attack. Richard was still in prison when he found out his mother had died. He petitioned the state, but he was denied him furlough, too many previous arrests. They keep him in solitary for a month to prevent him from finding a way to commit suicide or get himself killed intentionally.

 

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Authors Note:

This novel is based on actual events that happened to me.

I never believed in haunted houses; until I owned one, I was a real-estate agent who bought a house the owner had died in. It was cheap, and run down, and needed repairs so I figured that I could do most of them myself, and then flip the house later for a quick profit.

One night I was working in the house alone, when the lights suddenly went out. I took my flashlight and went downstairs to the breaker box to reset the switches. Suddenly my flashlight dimmed like all the juice had been sucked out of the batteries, and then died completely. These were new batteries that I had just put in.

I went over to the basement windows and pulled back the curtains, anything to let some light in. The sky outside was completely black, we don’t have anymore stars because of all that shit they spray overhead, the “human pesticides” that are more popular known as chem-trails.

If you doubt me, go out tonight, or right now if its dark and look up, you won’t see one star. The sky out the window was completely black, midnight with no moon to speak of either. It was either cloudy, or a quarter moon phase, I don’t know,

But I could not see anything in the dark, Then I walked back and I fumbled with the switches in the dark, looking for the main breaker. My eyes had a hard time adjusting to the dark, but suddenly I saw or detected movement somewhere just in front of me in that ocean of darkness that was the basement, and it was completely unexpected.

There was no one else in the house, I came alone, and no one could have gotten in. You ever have anyone sneak up on you? Like a prank, It was like that.This was the most scared I had ever been in my life.

How scared?

I read about people who described an out of body experience when they died on the operating table or at the scene of an accident before they were brought back.

I was so scared that before I could fully comprehend what had happened, my body was body was scared stiff but my soul tried to jump out of my body to escape whatever it was downstairs with me.

I don’t know what it was, I ran screaming all the way up the steps, and out the door and I did not look back until I was at my car. When your that scared you don’t piss or shit yourself like they say you do in books.

My soul jumping out of my body, was like stepping on a tack, it was something you realize after the fact, not before, and your body tells your brain what happened after you central nervous system steps off the tack, and not the other way around.

After that I quit real-estate because I didn’t want to sell houses anymore. I only did that to get the money I needed to make the proto-types necessary for my inventions, which were very, very expensive. Now I was also a great story teller but first and foremost a inventor by trade, finally someone said, Rath, you have to write about this shit, and I said, “No one would believe me.”

And they said, if anyone could make them believe it would be you…

Hell that sounded like a bet, so I did, and after almost fifteen years this fifth book is completed, and the first five chapter are available as a preview. Why don’t you read for yourself and you be the judge???

-Rath

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