A year ago, I took a black & white photography class as an elective. In this class we used old cameras to shoot black and white photos, then developed the film with water and chemicals in a special room called the dark room.
It was actually a pretty cool class. I felt like I did decent.
Now, the reason I bring this up is because I found something. While cleaning out a deceased hoarder's possessions, I stumbled across some rolls of film. See, my close friend Felix bought a house recently and asked me to help clean it up. He explained that this house belonged to a 91-year-old man who kept mountains of garbage and stuff in his house. Now that he passed away, his daughter put the house on the market and left the cleanup to the next idiot that wanted to buy the house.
That idiot was my friend Felix.
Felix asked me if I could help him clean and throw all this guy's sh*t away. Payment included of course. I said yes since I've been low on cash and needed anything to keep me afloat, including emptying a house of its earlier residents' garbage.
Felix and I were discussing the situation and I thought, "well, who knows? Maybe we'll find a box of gold. Or some authentic jewelry. Or a never before opened Nintendo game. First edition Pokémon cards?" Only one way to find out, I guess.
So, there I was, in the basement, sorting through the boxes and choosing what's trash and what's treasure. By that point, we have already cleared the living room and bedroom upstairs. Unfortunately for us, there wasn't much treasure.
The guy was a massive hoarder. He kept some of the weirdest things for whatever reason. Stacks of newspapers from 2002, old broken toys, board games from the 80's with missing pieces and cards, old dirty cassettes and records from the 70's and so much more. I've even seen some real nasty stuff like old diapers and dirty napkins. Felix nearly threw up.
Not gonna lie, even though clearing the house of the stuff was a huge pain in the ass, I found some of it oddly fascinating. There's something about going through old stuff that isn't yours that's so intriguing. It's like a time machine especially when the stuff dates back to before you were born.
Felix wasn't as interested as I was. Taking out all the stuff in bulk was heavy work. He just wanted the job to be done so he could move in, but occasionally, if he found something strange or cool, he'd hand it to me.
We made it to the boiler room of the basement which had stuff in there too. Felix sighed, "is there a single room in this house that DOESN'T have sh*t in it?" In the boiler room, there was this rack full of boxes nearest to the door and we began there.
I pulled a box from the top rack. There was so much dust on the lid, and it blew into the air as I removed it. At the top of the box there was an old disposable camera. After I had examined it and set it aside, I dug deeper. Past all the papers and junk, I found two tiny yellow canisters. Film. "Woah", I thought, "I haven't seen one of these in a while".
I rotated each film roll in amazement. Then, I shook one roll and heard a rattle. Then I shook the other and heard it again. I thought, "wow, they haven't been developed yet". I looked over at the disposable camera sitting only a foot away from me. Looks like the old man did some photography.
"What pictures are on these film rolls?"
Suddenly, I hear, "the trash containers' almost full can you believe that?" Felix walks in as I'm holding the film. "What's that?"
I look at him and say, "these are rolls of film. Found them in this box". I held the camera up to him, "Here's the old camera the guy probably used. This is really cool! Like, what could these pictures be of?"
Felix's reaction was kind of the opposite of mine, "I mean, they're just pictures, man. Everybody takes pictures. But I guess if you want to keep it then that's fine". He turned and walked out to continue throwing more stuff out.
I guess I'm not too surprised at his reaction. Taking that photography class taught me to appreciate how people used cameras before smart phones existed. If I hadn't taken that class, I would've thrown the camera and rolls into the garbage bag.
I'm just so curious. I want to know what these pictures are of. It reminds me of this guy named John Maloof who became a millionaire after finding photos taken by Vivian Maier. Vivian had died in 2009 and her stuff was being sold at an auction. Fortunately, John Maloof bought her photos and negatives and showed the world some of the best photographs we've ever seen.
...
Later that night when I came home, I took the film rolls out of my pocket and just looked at them. I knew what I had to do. I had to go back to my university and use their dark room just one more time. I decided to do it the day after, right before work.
Developing film can be quite a long process, especially if you haven't done it in over a year like I had. I had to look over my old notes to get a refresher on it.
...
As soon as I walked into the dark room, I searched for the light switch using my phone's flash as a light source. It's incredibly hard to see in there even with a light.
See, the purpose of a dark room is to develop film in complete darkness. Film cannot be exposed to any light whatsoever when being developed. If even a tiny bit of light exposes the film, then the entire roll could be ruined. Phones and smart watches should be set aside in case it lights up from a call or notification.
I flipped the lights on and began setting up at once. At my station, I had everything that I needed for the first step, which was to unroll the films and put them into these special canisters to be developed.
The thing is, I had to do the first step in complete darkness.
I always hated this step because it gets so dark that you can't even see your hand in front of your face. So, imagine trying to grab stuff and put it in places while you can't see.
I was hesitant to turn the lights off again. I got the chills whenever it got completely dark. It’s not so bad when there’s someone else with you, but this time I was all alone.
Then I figured, "let's just get this over with" and then turned off the lights. In the dark, I walked over to my station while feeling around for stuff to not bump into. Once I knew I was at my station, I quickly found the film rolls and then got to work.
So far, it was going smoothly, and I was starting to calm down. Until it happened.
I was just about to finish. I had the canister with the film inside in my left hand, and my other hand was feeling around for the lid. I swear, as soon as I touched and grabbed onto the lid, I had the most unnerving sensation on my skin.
Something cold was making contact on my neck and I winced. I slapped my neck where I felt it and yet nothing was there. My hair stood on ends, and I had no idea what was happening. I was almost too afraid to move and continue, but I was so close. I didn't want to turn the light on yet because the film would get exposed.
Then, a few seconds later, I heard a *HUFF* and felt a huge gust of air hit the back of my head. It sounded like a horse when it blows air out of its nostrils. The wind blow was so strong it pushed me forward and I dropped my canister and film on the floor.
I quickly dropped to the floor to try to grab the film and canister but then another gust hit me from above.
*HUFF*
Now I was motionless in a fetal position unable to see what the f*ck was happening. But then, I heard something rolling on the floor and then felt it hit my elbow. I waved my hands along the floor and grasped the object with my left hand. It was the canister with the film still inside. Thank God. I just need to put the lid on and then I can turn on the lights. I got up slowly.
As I was pulling myself up, I bumped my shoulder on the counter and then it happened once more. *HUFF*. I instantly dropped back down. And then again. *HUFF*. Then again and again. *HUFF *HUFF* *HUFF* *HUFF* *HUFF*.
It was happening even faster and just wouldn't stop. I didn’t know what to do. I was sitting on the floor holding onto myself and just waiting for something to happen. If I was going to be attacked, I just wanted it to happen already.
After about a minute of me just sitting there, I felt the floor shake in a rhythm with a boom. Each time the floor shook, it was less intense and quieter than the last. The rhythm got faint until I couldn’t feel it anymore. It was as if the beast thing walked away from me on two legs.
It took me about a minute to regain my composure and I didn’t want to sit there for a minute longer. At that point, I didn’t care about the film, I just needed to turn those lights on and get out of there. Whatever that thing was, I did not want it to come back.
“Where’s my phone? I need my flashlight”, I thought, but I remembered that it was still on the counter. I had to get up.
I started with positioning my legs forward. My palms were on the floor as I pushed myself up while making no noise whatsoever. When I was half way up I placed my hand on the counter for balance. Then I placed the other but felt something round. The lid.
“There you are”, I thought. I now had the lid, but not the canister. It was still on the floor but at least I knew where it was. I reached down and picked it up. I thought, “Finally. I have them both”. Unfortunately, when I tried to put the lid on, I did not account for the noise it would make.
*POP*
Not even a second after, I felt something under my feet. Vibrations. It started off faint but got more noticeable as it started to make the floor shake. It got so violent I felt like it was going to knock me off my balance.
I walked towards where I thought the light switch was but as soon as I heard those huffs, my walk turned into a full on leap. As I leaped, my hand was stretched in front of me, hoping to find that damn light switch. My hand collided with the cold flat wall and nothing else.
I started to panic and frantically glided my hand against the wall for the switch. Right as I could feel the wind of the *HUFF* right on me, my ring finger caught a bump on the wall, and I violently pushed against it.
*CLICK*
*Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*
My eyes were closed but I saw the light piercing through my eyelids. I heard the buzz of the fluorescent lights. I opened my eyes slowly. I was sitting on the floor with my arm raised above my head and my other arm gripping the canister against my chest.
I looked around the room. It looked the same as before I turned the lights off the first time. What the hell happened?? I swear I wasn’t the only one in this room when the lights were off. Who or what was with me in the dark?
The film is ready to be developed. I still don’t know what’s inside and I don’t know if I’m supposed to. Should I continue?

I tried to remember NYC in the 80's, not the safe and clean playground it is today. NYC was sketchy and grimy when the casque was buried. Brooklyn was a burned out toxic wasteland, not a hipster haunt. Coney Island was a red-light district; "Coney Island whitefish" was slang for a used condom found on the beach. Ellis and Liberty Islands required a ferry to reach, meaning poor people couldn't search, and nobody could bring a shovel. The casque is in Manhattan.
"Rhapsodic mans soil" is a reference to Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. Gershwin Theater in Manhattan wasn't renamed that until after the casque was buried, and Gershwin Park in Brooklyn (now Linden Park) was in the shadow of one of the largest garbage dumps in NYC, not the "grey giant" we want. Also, Rhapsody isn't even Gershwin's most famous song. But, Rhapsody in Blue was first performed in NYC, in Manhattan, at the Aeolian Hall. The Aeolian Hall is directly across the street from . . . Bryant Park.
Bryant Park is literally shadowed by the main branch of the NYC Public Library. That library, while dwarfed by the surrounding buildings, is a GIANT of book lovers - it is a cathedral for writers, like Trinity College Library Dublin or the Beinecke at Yale. It is also gray. Bryant Park is "in the shadow of the gray giant." Also, relating to the image for NYC, someone has already pointed out the lion face hidden in her dress - the NYC Library main branch has two giant, and incredibly famous, lion sculptures in front.
Draw a line due north of Bryant Park, and eventually it intersects Broadway. The most famous "B" in all of NYC. And where, exactly, does that line intersect Broadway? At Columbus Circle, an "isle" in "B."
Rhapsody at the Aeolian, within sight of Bryant Park. The lions and gray giant of the Library adjacent to Bryant Park. The most famous island in Broadway due North of Bryant Park.
So, who is Bryant? William Cullen Bryant was a poet and writer, who also spent 50 years as the editor of the New York Evening Post - the paper founded by everyone's favorite "indies native" Alexander Hamilton. In the early 80's nobody was humming "not throw away my shot." Most people didn't know Hamilton at all, or not much beyond "treasury guy that got offed in a duel." Only historians and longtime New York Post editors, or tricky game designers, would have known of his birth in the west indies. Also, Bryant's works were traditionally published in 6 volumes, his letters and his poems. But his poetry, itself, was available in "3 Hardcover volumes."
The park features a statue of Bryant, sitting, one hand in his lap and one on the armrest. "The arm that extends over the slender path" is his right arm, extended, and above the narrow path around the base of the statue. Just the right arm, importantly, because the statue's arms are one of only a few small asymmetries in Bryant Park. It was designed in a classical style, symmetrical, borders around a rectangular center lawn, with a fountain opposite the Bryant statue. The fountain is on a promenade that is an extended rectangle ending in a perfect half circle,, exactly like the architecture of the top of the associated painting. One other asymmetrical feature of Bryant Park is a stairway at one side of the park opposite the Bryant Statue, the right side, with the stairs entering the park making a perfect "v."
22 paces east of that stairway is where I think, in the wooded border of the park among the "simple roots", was the casque. Unfortunately, Bryant Park was complete redesigned in the late 80's and early 90's. The ground was stripped and dug up 5 feet deep or more, all the trees and shrubs gone. It's all gone, the casque with it. Or at least that's my best guess.

Hello, I'm just a random guy, from PNW part of the west coast. While I own a popular outdoor wagon, it's clean and could use more dirt from road trips around Oregon/Washington. It's you who wants to help get it dirty and maybe go touch some outdoor things.
I'm an avid photographers, a foodie who can back up their snobbery, enjoyer of weed and the occasional cocktail. I can't say I'm much of a gamer, though I do dabble in a few games. I can't say I'm into much anime, but I have seen all the Ghost in the Shell movies and shows, so there's that. I'm not looking for Player 2. I'm looking for something more than just appeasing my own interests.
I've been known to DJ Drum and Bass in Seattle on a regular basis. Into all forms of Metal, Indie, Rap. Currently into Icelandic rap music. I'm fuckin cultured.
I have an adult job, work mostly normal hours in a research/pathogen lab. Im not well traveled internationally, but I know my around Queens NY. I'm full of dark humor, snazzy clap backs, slight Gen X cynical chip on my shoulder, but I swear it makes me funny. I'm trying to learn German, so if you speak or are also learning, let's connect.
No harmful past baggage, just the usual shit from living life. I'm tall for my age, thin framed, but working on those gains. Maybe you are an avid baker and need someone to taste test. A polite way of saying, help with those gains.
What I'm looking for is someone whose into the idea of holding hands at a show, making dumb jokes over charcuterie, into being outside as much as blending into the sofa. Active, but not a gym rat. Maybe you already rock climb or are getting into it, because I am too! Im in a place where the space I have to offer includes emotional availability. I hope you offer the same in return. I'm not looking for someone with the exact same interests as me. Diversity adds to depth.
Please be addressing your traumas, into direct communication of your needs and can express boundaries.
I'm hoping for local-ish, but also very open to a LDR, preferably in the USA for ease of travel. Please be open to exchanging photos sooner than later. Attraction goes both ways and I don't want to waste either of our time.
Send me more than a hi. Shoot your shot. I'm pretty cool, so my friends say. Chat works best for me.

Hello, I'm just a random guy, from PNW part of the west coast. While I own a popular outdoor wagon, it's clean and could use more dirt from road trips around Oregon/Washington. It's you who wants to help get it dirty and maybe go touch some outdoor things.
I'm an avid photographers, a foodie who can back up their snobbery, enjoyer of weed and the occasional cocktail. I can't say I'm much of a gamer, though I do dabble in a few games. I can't say I'm into much anime, but I have seen all the Ghost in the Shell movies and shows, so there's that. I'm not looking for Player 2. I'm looking for something more than just appeasing my own interests.
I've been known to DJ Drum and Bass in Seattle on a regular basis. Into all forms of Metal, Indie, Rap. Currently into Icelandic rap music. I'm fuckin cultured.
I have an adult job, work mostly normal hours in a research/pathogen lab. Im not well traveled internationally, but I know my around Queens NY. I'm full of dark humor, snazzy clap backs, slight Gen X cynical chip on my shoulder, but I swear it makes me funny. I'm trying to learn German, so if you speak or are also learning, let's connect.
No harmful past baggage, just the usual shit from living life. I'm tall for my age, thin framed, but working on those gains. Maybe you are an avid baker and need someone to taste test. A polite way of saying, help with those gains.
What I'm looking for is someone whose into the idea of holding hands at a show, making dumb jokes over charcuterie, into being outside as much as blending into the sofa. Active, but not a gym rat. Maybe you already rock climb or are getting into it, because I am too! Im in a place where the space I have to offer includes emotional availability. I hope you offer the same in return. I'm not looking for someone with the exact same interests as me. Diversity adds to depth.
Please be addressing your traumas, into direct communication of your needs and can express boundaries.
I'm hoping for local-ish, but also very open to a LDR, preferably in the USA for ease of travel. Please be open to exchanging photos sooner than later. Attraction goes both ways and I don't want to waste either of our time.
Send me more than a hi. Shoot your shot. I'm pretty cool, so my friends say. Chat works best for me.

Hello, I'm just a random guy, from PNW part of the west coast. While I own a popular outdoor wagon, it's clean and could use more dirt from road trips around Oregon/Washington. It's you who wants to help get it dirty and maybe go touch some outdoor things.
I'm an avid photographers, a foodie who can back up their snobbery, enjoyer of weed and the occasional cocktail. I can't say I'm much of a gamer, though I do dabble in a few games. I can't say I'm into much anime, but I have seen all the Ghost in the Shell movies and shows, so there's that. I'm not looking for Player 2. I'm looking for something more than just appeasing my own interests.
I've been known to DJ Drum and Bass in Seattle on a regular basis. Into all forms of Metal, Indie, Rap. Currently into Icelandic rap music. I'm fuckin cultured.
I have an adult job, work mostly normal hours in a research/pathogen lab. Im not well traveled internationally, but I know my around Queens NY. I'm full of dark humor, snazzy clap backs, slight Gen X cynical chip on my shoulder, but I swear it makes me funny. I'm trying to learn German, so if you speak or are also learning, let's connect.
No harmful past baggage, just the usual shit from living life. I'm tall for my age, thin framed, but working on those gains. Maybe you are an avid baker and need someone to taste test. A polite way of saying, help with those gains.
What I'm looking for is someone whose into the idea of holding hands at a show, making dumb jokes over charcuterie, into being outside as much as blending into the sofa. Active, but not a gym rat. Maybe you already rock climb or are getting into it, because I am too! Im in a place where the space I have to offer includes emotional availability. I hope you offer the same in return. I'm not looking for someone with the exact same interests as me. Diversity adds to depth.
Please be addressing your traumas, into direct communication of your needs and can express boundaries.
I'm hoping for local-ish, but also very open to a LDR, preferably in the USA for ease of travel. Please be open to exchanging photos sooner than later. Attraction goes both ways and I don't want to waste either of our time.
Send me more than a hi. Shoot your shot. I'm pretty cool, so my friends say. Chat works best for me.

Hello, I'm just a random guy, from PNW part of the west coast. While I own a popular outdoor wagon, it's clean and could use more dirt from road trips around Oregon/Washington. It's you who wants to help get it dirty and maybe go touch some outdoor things.
I'm an avid photographers, a foodie who can back up their snobbery, enjoyer of weed and the occasional cocktail. I can't say I'm much of a gamer, though I do dabble in a few games. I can't say I'm into much anime, but I have seen all the Ghost in the Shell movies and shows, so there's that. I'm not looking for Player 2. I'm looking for something more than just appeasing my own interests.
I've been known to DJ Drum and Bass in Seattle on a regular basis. Into all forms of Metal, Indie, Rap. Currently into Icelandic rap music. I'm fuckin cultured.
I have an adult job, work mostly normal hours in a research/pathogen lab. Im not well traveled internationally, but I know my around Queens NY. I'm full of dark humor, snazzy clap backs, slight Gen X cynical chip on my shoulder, but I swear it makes me funny. I'm trying to learn German, so if you speak or are also learning, let's connect.
No harmful past baggage, just the usual shit from living life. I'm tall for my age, thin framed, but working on those gains. Maybe you are an avid baker and need someone to taste test. A polite way of saying, help with those gains.
What I'm looking for is someone whose into the idea of holding hands at a show, making dumb jokes over charcuterie, into being outside as much as blending into the sofa. Active, but not a gym rat. Maybe you already rock climb or are getting into it, because I am too! Im in a place where the space I have to offer includes emotional availability. I hope you offer the same in return. I'm not looking for someone with the exact same interests as me. Diversity adds to depth.
Please be addressing your traumas, into direct communication of your needs and can express boundaries.
I'm hoping for local-ish, but also very open to a LDR, preferably in the USA for ease of travel. Please be open to exchanging photos sooner than later. Attraction goes both ways and I don't want to waste either of our time.
Send me more than a hi. Shoot your shot. I'm pretty cool, so my friends say. Chat works best for me.

The Stay On Main hotel, referred to by its former title of the Cecil, stood tall before me. Its brown brick front loomed. I walked through the main entranceway with my suitcase in hand.
I made my way into the empty lobby and approached the front desk. The inside had glossy black and white tile flooring. Stanchions with red ropes led to the check-in counter.
The clerk looked up at me from his phone with a side-eyed glance. He had wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. He resembled a surfer more than he did a night manager.
“I’m looking to stay here for a week,” I said as I handed him a wad of cash.
“This is an affordable housing unit for the homeless,” he said. “You’re well dressed and have an Irish accent. I’m guessing you’re a journalist or documentary filmmaker. Either way, it wouldn’t feel right to let you stay here when you can afford somewhere else. You’d be taking up space someone of greater need could use.”
“This should erase guilt,” I said as I handed him another stack of hundreds.
The man accepted the bribe and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. He then slid a room key over to me after I gave him a false name and a credit card that did not belong to me. He mentioned the complimentary breakfast available in the morning.
“I’m Scottish by the way,” I corrected him as I made my way onto the elevator.
There were fifteen floors and my room was on the fifth. I pressed the button. The sounds of the creaking wires holding the platform stable reverberated above.
It dinged and let me off. I went down the hallway, which had wooden ground and drab white-painted walls.
I entered my room and saw it was not much better than the corridor. There were a few places I had stayed at with my wife around Loch Lomond far above such a decrepit den as this.
The first thing I saw was the view of skid row outside. Its wandering figures resembled the madhouse painting by Goya. Street lights, neon, and litter were everywhere.
The desk drawer had the to-be-expected Bible. Shock coursed through me as I saw the completed works of Alfred Tennyson next to it. A highlighted passage got my attention:
‘and this gray spirit yearning in desire to follow knowledge
like a sinking star, beyond the utmost bound of human thought.’
It was well-known that Tennyson was a part of my agency when the organization was first founded.
I laid my piece of luggage on the bed and opened it. I took out a leather-bound journal, an EVP recorder, external microphones, and a few mini cameras. I placed the items in each corner.
I waited and retrieved my ledger. I scribbled about my findings later in the morning.
EXCERPTS FROM FIELD NOTES/SURVEILLANCE MONITORING, FEBRUARY 16th AT 0439 HOURS:
There is a streak of blood underneath my mattress. It is faint, very old, and would not even be noticeable to the average eye due to its faded quality. I would not have found it had I not spotted and attempted to kill a roach that scurried across the carpet. The insect has disappeared. I presume it to have fallen between the cracks into another dreary unit below. I have not observed strange or unusual sounds within my space in particular. I have not seen any visions, ethereal or cerebral, which would sound any alarms. Screaming, honking horns, and drunken babbling seep through the boundaries. The wind seemed to flow through the rafters at an unusual pace around those noises. By that, I mean it whistles a song of its own in perfect rhythm.
*
I awoke the next day to the sound of my phone. It was the landline in the room. I answered it and pressed the receiver to my ear in a groggy state, entangling my neck in the wire.
“Meet me at the Civilization Cafe,” a familiar woman’s voice said. My response would have been irrelevant since it was an order and not a question. I placed it back on the hook and managed to get out of bed.
I showered, dressed, and made the walk to the coffee shop.
Dani sat outside with a steaming mug in hand. She did not acknowledge me with anything more than a quick nod as I took a seat across from her. She scanned her surroundings to make sure no one was within earshot.
“Why did you rent the place for a week?” Dani asked between sips. “We agreed on one night.”
“You know why,” I said. I tried to remind myself to remain assertive without being hot-tempered. I did not want a write-up for insubordination.
“We need you to find out what’s wrong with this place," she said. "Report your findings soon. Otherwise, what happened to the last occupants could very well occur to the next civilian.”
“Please don’t put pressure on me like that,” I said. “Catching a poltergeist in a place with so much suffering is almost impossible. It's like summoning the ancients and asking them about the order of their calamities.”
“Could you at least streamline it by sending us emails instead of relying on a pen and notebook?” Dani’s voice became an aggressive whisper. “We’re getting tired of hiring an administrator to sort out your papers. Keeping your intelligence on point is a full-time job.”
“Writing it out by hand gives me a closer connection to the source material. I have to trust my way, or I’ll make mistakes by breaking my habits. You wouldn’t want that.”
She looked down the road. She finished her drink, slung her purse over her shoulder, stood, and pushed her chair in.
“Stay safe,” she said as she walked to a black cherry-painted Honda parked near the sidewalk. "Take care, Graham."
EXCERPTS FROM FIELD NOTES/SURVEILLANCE MONITORING, FEBRUARY 17th AT 0345 HOURS:
There has been one odd synchronicity after another. My window, accumulated so much mist that I reasoned it must have been pouring. Of course, it was bright out. Some of my filming devices have readjusted without me having touched them since set up. The towel rack in my restroom bent at its center. I guarantee it was not that way beforehand. I have taken this as a lesson to take photographs of every square inch of the place. This is for future reference in my studies. After observing these anomalies, my body fell into a lethargic sensation. I was reading a book titled The Origins of the World’s mythologies by EJ Michael Witzel before it fell out of my hands. As sleep enveloped me, something tendril-like moved in my periphery. It disappeared when I tried to stare at the illusions. I fell off of my mattress after having a nightmare of a lion chasing me through the Serengeti. I hit the floor. I looked to the side and saw a fog creep through the small crack at the bottom of my door. I went to investigate where this was coming from. I did not see anything as the remnants of the precipitation evaporated completely. In the hallway was an orange feline. She scampered away into a grimy stairwell.
*
I walked outside after I finished the report. I stepped into my rented vehicle and drove to a liquor store to pick out a bottle of whiskey. There were so many evenings when I was comfortable in my sobriety. This was no longer one of them. I had an uncontrollable urge to drown myself in the brown liquid that had been a scar on my life for so long.
I passed by a few markets that were teeming with too many suspicious people outside to risk going in. It took a while until I found one that was quiet and clean.
I went across the parking lot and saw a mural of Venice beach on the wall. It brought back memories of walking along the sands of Prestwick, with Lynsey.
Her eyes were emerald and her hair was darker than any cave I had explored in my youth. We had met at the Old College Bar in Glasgow at an age we kept secret from the bartenders with our fake IDs. We had a competition to see whose fraudulent driver's license was the most convincing.
I do not remember if I fell in love with her at first sight. I do recall being in disbelief that she even bothered to give me the time of her day. I can remember kissing her for the first time. The scent of her blossom honey perfume lit my body up.
I snapped out of my reminiscences and purchased a bottle of Glennmorangie blue label.
I was back at the Cecil in minutes. I imbibed two highballs and passed out. My tolerance level had weakened compared to the binging of my younger days. When I awoke, I analyzed what had occurred in the room during my sleep.
EXCERPTS FROM FIELD NOTES/SURVEILLANCE MONITORING, FEBRUARY 18th AT 0116 HOURS:
I am feeling hungover but alert. My 450-milliliter friend is half gone, but I am seeing straight right now without any problems. In other words, I am sober with a grudge. I hope my Supervisors at the Providence agency will forgive my conduct on the job. I do not believe they will blame me. A cobalt-hued smoke emanated from one of the corners. Jazz music is playing around me, whereas it never has before for the duration of my stay. It sounds so old and improvised. The notes are as unfamiliar to me as they would be to a new listener in the Flapper era. Worst of all is how out-of-tune it sounds. My tub has overfilled itself with brackish water. I have not even bathed yet, so I know that was not by my hand. A piece of the footage shows a silhouette moving across the room. Before it reaches my sleeping body, the camera lens shattered.
*
I ran out of pages and my hand cramped. I wrote new entries within the margins. I also started to hear things other than old tunes from a bygone era.
Human wails seeped in, each one more agonized than the last. Within a few minutes, I differentiated how there were two different voices. One male, the other a woman. I attempted to record them, but it was useless. All my mics picked up were static and the hum of the air conditioner, despite how they plagued my ears like tinnitus.
I lit a circle of candles and created a makeshift altar in the center of the room. I drew the circle with salt. I sat in the lotus position, closed my eyes, and endeavored to remain open to any visions. Seances were always my last resort.
I fell into a dream. I saw a couple, both from the decade of prohibition. They were lounging in the same room as me. The man had a copy of the completed work of Alfred Tennyson in his hands.
It all seemed like a peaceful scene until an argument commenced between the two. The man retrieved a blade from his vest and advanced toward her. He stabbed her. She turned the knife on him by gripping the sharp edge in her palms and hoisting it towards his midsection. He tried to claw towards the door, but failed and instead made his way under the bed.
EXCERPTS FROM FIELD NOTES/SURVEILLANCE MONITORING, FEBRUARY 19th AT 0026 HOURS:
I now realize I have not met my intended goal. I was hoping to receive some answers why my wife took her own life in this place. Instead, I came in contact with a murdered couple from the 1920s. They killed one another, but the woman acted in self-defense. Following research, I have learned the female is an ancestor of my departed wife, Lynsey. They share the same name. Her family immigrated here in the 1850s. She had mentioned this to me over dinner on more than one occasion. I never knew they had made their way here, to the exact spot I am sitting.
I am grateful to these organizations for allowing me to make an effort at settling this matter. I hope I have completed my duties with integrity. Unfortunately, I was unable to contact her. I will revisit this place one day soon since I have no intention of giving up.

DELAWARE’S CHANCELLOR ANDRE BOUCHARD UP TO HIS USUAL, UNUSUAL TRICKS IN CHANCERY COURT?

04/29/2020 By Judson Bennett📷
OPINION
Dear friends,
I’ve been following Andre Bouchard’s rocky career since the day he took office as the new Chancellor in Delaware’s Court of Chancery, and I wrote about the way he handled the Sussex County Register of Wills Office in his first year, which I thought was abhorrent. I’ve been extra critical of him through the TransPerfect trial, which ended years ago, and somehow, court-payments linger and his old buddies at Skadden Arps are still collecting nearly six-figure monthly paychecks, thanks to Bouchard’s atrocious handling of the case.
I wonder which one of his friends could possibly get paid off this time because, in my opinion, the TransPerfect case has been milked for huge amounts of money for the benefit of Delaware’s Good-Ole-Boys Legal Club, aka friends of the Chancellor???
I’m seeing similar suspicious patterns in a new case covered by The Law360 story below, where he’s again being shortsighted, in my view, during a court-supervised sale, which sounds similar to me to the TransPerfect case. where he was, in my opinion, continually attempting to bully the sides into a settlement, rather than just doing his job as a judge.
The Law360 story, says it best, “Chancellor Bouchard, a veteran of epic — and unfinished — battles arising from the liquidation of TransPerfect Global Inc. after a falling-out between its founders.”
I would love to hear your thoughts on this one. In my opinion, this guy, who was never a judge before, somehow through his Democrat politics, getting the chief role at the Chancery Court, is not even learning on the job. Time for him to go!
Respectfully Yours,
Judson Bennett-Coastal Network
PLEASE CHECK OUT MY WEBSITE at : coastalnetwork.com
See the Law360 story:
Chancellor Rips Critics Of Pharma Sale As ‘Incredibly Naive’
By Jeff Montgomery
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Law360 (April 20, 2020, 11:40 PM EDT) — Delaware’s chancellor branded some challenges to the court-supervised sale of drug developer Inspirion Delivery Sciences LLC as “astounding” and “incredibly naive” on Monday, noting that a court order had given a liquidating trustee broad latitude to complete the job.
The comments by Chancellor Andre G. Bouchard during a sale hearing teleconference followed arguments by Michael Yoder of Reid Collins & Tsai LLP that a new auction effort could have produced a better result than the offer of $4 million in cash and up to $10 million in future payments from OHEMO Life Sciences Inc. from royalties on anti-abuse opioid drug compounds.
Yoder, who represents former Inspirion members Raymond DiFalco and Manish Shah, argued that it made little sense for a trustee to “simply accept the first offer from a company insider,” referring to OHEMO, which has ties to IDS member Stefan Aigner.
Chancellor Bouchard, a veteran of epic — and unfinished — battles arising from the liquidation of TransPerfect Global Inc. after a falling-out between its founders, asked if Yoder had fully examined Delaware law and trustee discretion on the issue.
“I really find that astounding. You didn’t even address the standard of review in your papers,” the chancellor said. “I find equally astounding the notion that you didn’t think insiders would be able to bid. Do you know how most of these contests end? Typically somebody involved with the company buys the other side out.”
Yoder said he was not arguing that insiders could not participate, but said that his clients did not participate because they hoped for a successful sale to a third party and were unaware there were no third parties in the running until recently.
“That just demonstrates extraordinary naivety,” Chancellor Bouchard said. “It all seems so last-minute for your client to walk in here not prepared to do something, and I find it very hard to believe that if they wanted to make a bid, they couldn’t do it all along.”
Differences between Shah and DiFalco and member Aigner over approval and marketing of key anti-abuse drugs MorphaBond and RoxyBond hobbled the business, with Aigner attempting to remove DiFalco as president of IDS.
The court ordered a liquidation after a three-day trial in November 2018, although further disputes and market issues extended the process. The proposed winning bidder was OHEMO, based in Puerto Rico, a company championed by Aigner before the liquidation order as a replacement for the Shah and DiFalco-aligned production operation.
Cerovene Inc., controlled by Shah and DiFalco, made an offer valued at up to $15 million but missed a key deadline for the submission earlier this month, according to Donna L. Culver of Morris Nichols Arsht & Tunnell LLP, counsel to liquidating trustee Derek C. Abbott.
Culver said Cerovene argued that the COVID-19 crisis and a lack of wire transfer specifics kept the business from making a required bid deposit, but not until “literally minutes before deadline” did the prospective competing bidder “give any indication he could not comply with the deadline.”
Nothing prevented DiFalco and Shah from getting involved through Cerovene earlier, Culver said, adding that the sale opponents also had not shown how the trustee or process represented an abuse of discretion.
Peter B. Ladig of Bayard PA, counsel to Aigner, Acela Investments LLC and two other companies that hold Aigner’s interests in IDS, said the business already had worked through a several-month marketing process, with 81 potential buyers approached, before choosing to move ahead with OHEMO for lack of a better offer.
“This is not, as I think the objectors would have the court believe, a question of having an auction just between the two insiders,” Ladig said. “This was an auction process that ran for months, and it’s really the end of the second process.”
Ladig said nothing in the case record supported claims that Aigner maneuvered the trustee into setting the final, 48-hour window for receipt of a competing offer for the business.
Chancellor Bouchard said he would take the arguments under advisement.
Aigner is represented by Peter B. Ladig and Brett M. McCartney of Bayard PA.
Shah and DiFalco are represented by Carmella P. Keener of Cooch and Taylor PA and William T. Reid IV, Michael Yoder, Jordan L. Vimont and Ryan M. Goldstein of Reid Collins & Tsai LLP.
Liquidating trustee Derek C. Abbott is represented by Donna L. Culver of Morris Nichols Arsht & Tunnell LLP.
The case is Acela Investments LLC et al. v. Raymond DiFalco et al., case number 2018-0558, in the Court of Chancery of the State of Delaware.
–Editing by Aaron Pelc.
About Judson Bennett
📷Captain A. Judson Bennett was a life- long resident of Lewes, DE. He served the maritime industry for 33 years, primarily as a Delaware River Pilot, guiding large ships to the Port of Philadelphia. Captain Bennett has been an active and consistent entrepreneur over the years.
He was elected as a Lewes City Councilman for 6 years. Afterwards he ran for the Sussex County Council as a Republican, and with 20 thousand people voting, lost Delaware’s closest election by 3 votes to an 8 year incumbent. Abandoning his personal political ambitions, he became the Republican District leader, advocating conservative values. Captain Bennett became a lobbyist in the state legislature advocating among many ideas, financial literacy concepts in education. He managed several political campaigns, including one for Governor of Delaware and one for the US Senate against VP Joe Biden. He is now the owner, operator, and writer for the Coastal Network which communicates regularly with over 6000 people throughout the State of Delaware.
Captain Bennett is a graduate of St. Andrew’s School in Middletown, DE (where the movie “The Dead Poet’s Society was filmed) and also graduated “Magna Cum Laude” from the University of Delaware with a BA in Criminal Justice and an MA in Liberal Studies.
He is now a Widower, living in West Palm Beach, Florida. Captain Bennett has one son, three grandchildren, and one great grand-daughter, all who live in Richmond, Virginia.

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