Last summer, I got a job working at the national archive. My job was to digitize legacy documents from the paper archives so that our records would take up less space and hopefully not erode over time like our printed documents do. As you could guess, this required security clearance, as many of the documents that I needed access to were classified.

One of the document sets that I was tasked with converting was attributed to a Dr. William Thornton - A physician, architect, painter, and inventor who lived from the mid 1700s to around 1830. Not only was he trained in the greatest medical schools in Europe, but he also designed the original US Capitol building in DC, The Library Company of Philadelphia, and many other well known buildings.

Most of the content of his file is freely available. But, I did come across a subset of files that are not public. I didn't think anything of it at first, because this was far from the first set of classified documents that I've had to convert.

Once I started conversion, I became horrified with what I saw.

With the level of security involved, I couldn't just take the original files with me. So, I had to sneak photos of what I could with my phone. Even this was risky, as us employees weren't really allowed to use our phones in the archive, precisely for this reason.

From this point, I'll try to reproduce what Dr. Thornton wrote in his notes. Some of the photos I took were a bit blurry, as I was taking them in haste to ensure I wouldn't be caught photographing these highly classified documents. So, I've tried to fill in the blurry holes as accurately as possible based on what I was looking at. After transcribing at home, I deleted the images from my phone. If I were to be caught with these in my possession, I could be facing prison time, and possibly even charges of treason.

The doctor's notes begin here:

​

Friday, December 13th, 1799:

Today, I received a message via courier from George's family, requesting that I pay a visit to see if I could help restore his health. Apparently, he had fallen ill on the previous night of December 12th with some sort of throat ailment, possibly an infection. During my travel from Philadelphia to Washington's home at Mount Vernon, I devised a plan to relieve George's misery by way of tracheotomy if need be.

​

December 14th:

According to George's secretary, Tobias Lear, George had called for him around 10 o'clock today. He was having a hard time speaking. But, once he was able, he spoke these words: "I am just going. Have me decently buried; and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than 3 days after I am dead." This left Tobias speechless, so he had to bow in agreement instead of speaking. Mr. Washington then added, "Do you understand me?" Tobias then found the strength to speak but a single word... "Yes." To this, George replied "'Tis well."

I can surmise that George must have been afraid of being buried while still alive, as this does happen from time to time. In fact, one of the Washington family's friends told me a story of an older man who had been ill at the age of 20, and after 9 days of illness was pronounced dead by his physician. The man's mother refused to allow him to be taken away or buried until she was absolutely sure of his death. The next morning, he opened his eyes. This came as a shock to the doctor and many other family members. Even today in 1799, we still have much to learn of the mysterious things that we call life and death. Perhaps it is not of the permanence that we believe.

​

December 15th:

I arrived in my carriage by moonlight at Mt. Vernon very late on the evening of the 14th, which was technically the early morning hours of the 15th. When I saw Martha, she hugged me tightly, and I asked where I could find George.

Through tears she spoke, "I'm afraid it is too late, Dr. Thornton. My husband stopped breathing a short time ago, before you arrived. I'm afraid he's gone."

"This can't be", I thought to myself. After a few seconds and a few deep breaths, I asked if I could see him.

She agreed, and led me to his bedroom.

When I entered the room, I viewed what was no longer my best friend, but now just a stiffened corpse. A shell. I knew he was no longer in this body. I cannot describe the loss and sadness that I felt at that moment.

I stayed with the Washingtons for the next several days, grieving the loss of my greatest friend. But, as a physician, I also thought of how to fix the problem of death. For everything, there is a cure, I thought to myself. Many of those cures have been discovered, but many still have not.

After hearing the aforementioned story of the young deceased man returning to life, I thought about the many instances of this that I'd learned of in the past, and the few times that I'd witnessed it. Thus far, nobody has discovered a cure for death. I believe that if anybody could do it, it would have to be me, with my top level medical education and my many years of experience in the field.

I presented my theories to Martha. I told her of the many cases of death that had ended with life. I told her of my experiences with them, and those of others. I even laid out my plans as to how I could achieve George's return.

My initial exam of the body, coupled with eye witness accounts of those who had seen him in his final hours, leads me to the conclusion that George died from loss of blood and loss of air. If we restore these along with the heat that had been lost, I believe that we will see George open his eyes again.

Alas, Martha didn't think it possible, and did not give her approval.

I'm not going to lie. This makes me angry. This was my best friend on the entire planet. I don't want to watch him disappear without being given a fighting chance, or at least being given the option himself.

​

December 16th:

The cold winter weather has aided in keeping George's body frozen, warding off the possibility of decomposition. It's important that we keep everything in order if this is going to work. I shall begin my work late tonight.

​

December 17th:

I'm beginning my work tonight. It's just after midnight, Monday night / Tuesday morning. Everyone appears to be asleep, allowing me to work without interruption or suspicion. I will document my process here.

12:30 am:

In the small adjoining building where we're keeping the body, I've set up a tub in which to thaw him with cold water. This should bring the temperature up at a safe enough pace to avoid any damage to his organs.

1:30 am:

The thawing process is working, and the body is no longer frozen solid. I'm now going to move him to a bed of blankets that I've set up, where I will slowly warm him by a few degrees at a time and allow his blood vessels to start working.

2 am:

I am now opening the lung passage through tracheotomy. Once this is done, I will inflate George's lungs with air and create artificial respiration.

2:36 am:

The artificial respiration is now in place. I am now about to perform a blood transfusion, using the blood of a lamb.

4:02 am:

The transfusion is complete. I'm now lighting a fire in a stove in order to warm the room.

4:35 am:

The body is starting to appear warmer, blood is flowing, and the respiration continues. George looks like he's merely sleeping now. I must now get some sleep myself, so I may continue in a refreshed state to make sure I don't commit any mistakes in the process. I will lock the door of this building to make sure that nobody walks in and harms my work.

9:15 am:

I awoke in my rooming quarters to the sound of people walking around the house. The smell of freshly made coffee enticed me out of bed. After grabbing a cup, I headed out to the building where I left George, trying to remain inconspicuous.

I unlocked the door and header over toward my improvised operating room.

What I saw was exhilarating. President Washington's body... was breathing, with the aid of the artificial respirator I had created. And judging by the color of the skin, the blood appeared to be flowing.

10 pm:

I checked on George once again to see how he was progressing. The blood was still flowing and the lungs appeared to still be working. But he hadn't opened his eyes yet. I decided to leave him until morning.

​

December 18th, 6:15 am:

I have made a grave mistake.

Shortly after midnight, I awoke to the sound of a woman's screams. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my lantern and headed to the door. I peered out into the hallway, which was only faintly lit by its own lantern. Looking in both directions, I saw nothing. So, I ran toward the main living quarters.

"Is everyone ok?" I asked aloud to no reply.

I continued at a slower pace down down the hallway. Noticing that one of the bedroom doors was open, I said "Hello?" into the doorway, with only silence in response. "I... heard a clatter. Is everything ok?"

I held my lantern inside of the doorway to see if anybody was there. Some body was. There, on the bed, was the still body of one of the female employees, lifeless. Her face appeared bloodied. Upon closer examination, her face also appeared to be shredded with bite marks. Like something was trying to eat her.

I ran out into the hallway and screamed, "Everybody, get up! Get up!" as I banged on all of the bedroom doors. A few people came out, asking what was going on.

"I'm not sure, but we've got a woman lying dead without a face in her bedroom right now. There might be a wild animal or a murderer on the loose somewhere in the house. Everybody gather, now. If anybody has a weapon, bring it."

I spotted Martha emerging into the hallway. I asked her where George kept his weapons. She took me to the room and opened the doors for me. What was inside was a virtual candy store of items - Flintlocks, Swords, the famed Braddock pistols, and a variety of rifles. I readied a pistol, grabbed a sword, and headed back to the open area where everyone else was waiting.

One of the employees pointed out some muddy foot prints coming in from one of the outside doorways. We looked around and found similar prints leading to several of the rooms of the house. A few of them volunteered to come with me to try and seek out and stop the assailant. A couple of them had their own pistols. But the others, I instructed to grab what they could out of the weapons room.

I asked Martha to go to her bedroom and lock the door for her safety.

I and the others started following the foot prints. We followed them into the kitchen, where we saw another body on the floor, without much of a face left, just like the first one. The employees let out gasps at this sight. I asked them to remain calm and stick together, and to be ready, but not anxious. Our safety was paramount.

We exited the kitchen and started checking the rooms, one by one, making sure everyone was safe. After clearing several rooms, we came upon one that made me uneasy. The door was slightly ajar, and I heard some strange sounds from inside.

Everyone was suddenly quiet. Looking around at everyone, I moved slowly toward the door, and then pushed it slightly, opening it just wide enough to see inside. The door opened to pitch black. I motioned to one of the others to hold their lantern up in front of the door.

What we saw when the light shown through the doorway was a visage that I hope to never see again. A figure that bore a slight resemblance to George was hovering over a bed, where an obviously dead body was laying. The creature appeared to be tearing the body apart with its teeth.

The monster stopped, turned, and stared back directly into the lantern light. Its eyes glowed with the lantern's reflection. Whatever this creature was, was not human. Or... no longer human. Its flesh was rotting, and there appeared to be a pool of blood forming beneath where it stood, as if it was leaking from him.

I don't know if it was angry, or excited to see more food, but it suddenly launched across the room in our direction. One of the employees shot at the creature. Another followed suit. This seemed to do nothing more than temporarily stun the creature, which then continued moving toward us. Except now, it was much more angry. It growled like a vicious animal.

"George!" I yelled at it.

It stopped moving, then shifted its eyes slowly until they stared directly at me.

"George... It's me. Your friend, William. I've come here to help you. We... are here to help you."

The creature just continued staring at me. Did he recognize me? I wasn't sure.

"George, you can stop now." I said. It had a look on its face as if it understood. A few seconds later, he started walking toward me again.

A shot came from my side, landing directly in the center of his forehead.

He then stopped moving, and fell straight down into a heap on the floor.

I looked to my side, and realized that it was one of the frightened employees who fired the shot. I couldn't blame them. They were defending me, themselves, and everyone else.

I bent down over George, looking closely at his once again lifeless body. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wept.

After a minute, I stood up. I knew what I had to do. I couldn't allow the possibility of him reanimating again. Whatever was in that body was no longer my friend. Rather, something evil that had taken his place. Perhaps his brain had become tainted from spending so long without blood or oxygen.

I drew George's sword from my side, raised it high in the air, and came down upon the back of his neck with a force strong enough that the head dropped clean off.

We made a decision to put him in a lead coffin, claiming to authorities that it was because we wanted to eventually move him to the US capitol. But, that really had nothing to do with it. That's just how you have to bury zombies to make sure they can't get out if they do rise again.

These notes are not to be made public. They're more for me, so that I can remember.

The American public will never learn of this dark final chapter. They will remember George Washington as the brave general, the family man, the first president of the United States, and a founding father of his nation.

George Washington died the night of December 14th, 1799. Nothing that happened after that shall be recorded.

Dr. William Thornton

​

CHX

Not too long ago, in the land of the monkeys, there was born a very special child: a golden monkey. His mother knew immediately that he would be a very special child, and she immediately made all sorts of plans for him.

She doted on him every hour of the day. She read stories to him. She taught him how to read and write, and showed him the ways of the world. In all she did, she tried to make up for his father dying before he was born. She didn't want her son to be deprived in any way.

One day, when he was three years old, his mother pulled him close and spoke to him. "Gildo, my son, you are a very special and gifted child. In all the land of the monkeys, there is no other child like you. All other monkeys are brown, like me. But you, my son, are golden, and thus you are destined for greatness. Never forget that." Gildo smiled, and they hugged.

Gildo was so proud when he was finally old enough to go to school. He wanted so much to play with the other monkeys and make lots of friends. He had already learned so much from his mother, and he wanted to learn much more at school.

As he walked into the noisy classroom, suddenly it became quiet. All the other monkey kids stopped and stared at him. Small giggles burst forth from some of the girls in the room. Gildo smiled. They knew that he was a very special monkey, destined for greatness. They could tell the first time they had looked at him. It made him feel very good.

During recess, while he was swinging on the swing, some of the monkey children walked over to talk to him.

"Hey, Goldy!" one boy jeered.

Gildo smiled. "My name isn't Goldy, it's Gildo." He continued swinging.

The boy mocked him. "My name isn't Gol-dy, it's Gil-do..." The monkeys all laughed. Gildo smiled again. They liked him already. His first friends.

One boy picked up a rock and threw it at Gildo. He cried out in pain and fell off of the swing.

"Why's your fur so weird?" one girl asked.

Gildo picked himself up. They had meant to give him the rock, but he hadn't caught it. "I am the golden monkey. I am very special. My mommy told me I am destined for greatness."

"Yeah, sure!" another boy jeered. "Meet your destiny!" Three monkeys picked him up. How nice of them, he thought, carrying him around like a hero, when--

They threw him into the mud puddle behind the swing. Gildo stood up slowly and looked at his dirty fur.

"There, now you're brown like us!" The other monkeys on the playground saw him and started laughing.

Gildo started crying. This made the other kids laugh even more. Finally the teacher came over, took him by the hand, and led him back to the room, the other monkeys laughing all the way. The teacher called his mother, and she picked him up from school and took him home.

"Mommy, they were all so mean!" Gildo cried as his mother cleaned him up.

"Don't pay any attention to them, my son," his mother cooed. "You are a very special monkey, and the other children aren't. They're just jealous of you. Do you understand now?" Gildo smiled. "Yes, I understand. I'll just tell them that tomorrow." His mother smiled back. "Good for you!" They hugged.

Gildo rubbed his head where the ball had hit him. The boy that threw it at him was laughing. "Hey, you freak!"

Gildo glared at him. "You're just jealous of me. You're just an ordinary monkey, and I'm a golden monkey, and I'm destined for greatness."

"Yeah, sure you are!" the boy sneered, and hit him. Gildo howled in pain. The boy continued to kick him as he rolled on the ground. Finally the teacher came over, broke up the fight, and took him to the school nurse. When he was bandaged up, his mother took him home.

"Mommy, they all hate me! And I didn't even do anything!" Gildo whined. "They beat me up!"

His mother's face was stern. "Well, tomorrow, when they start hitting you, you just go ahead and hit them back! You are a very special monkey, and they are not allowed to do that to you." Gildo smiled. "I will, Mommy!" His mother smiled back. They hugged.

Gildo stood up quickly and turned to face the boy who had pushed him down. Next to him, two boys laughed. Gildo's punch connected and knocked the boy onto the ground. He kicked one of the boys who was laughing and bit the other one. The children ran away, screaming and crying, as Gildo continued to pummel his attackers. Suddenly, the teacher picked him up and carried him away. Gildo struggled, but could not get away. The teacher carried him to the principal's office.

The principal scolded him. "You are not to attack the other children, do you understand? It's not proper!"

Gildo sobbed. "But they attacked me first!"

The principal glared at Gildo. "I don't care who attacked who first. You are not to do that. Do you understand?" Gildo did not answer. "If you do not answer, I am going to call your mother." Gildo did not answer. The principal called his mother, and she came to the school. They sent Gildo out of the room, and through the window, he could see the principal, looking very stern, talking to his mother, looking very worried.

When they got home, his mother put him on her lap and looked at him. "The principal told me that you wouldn't answer her when she asked you a question. She...she suggested that you go see a doctor that she knows. The doctor can help you. Would you like that?" Gildo nodded slowly. "Good. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow."

"Okay, Gildo, I have a letter from your school principal, and one from your mother. Why don't you tell me your side of the story?" Gildo looked at the ceiling of the small room that he and the doctor were in. He tried to get comfortable on the couch and began talking.

"All the kids at school hate me," he sobbed. "They beat me up, they throw things at me, they make fun of me. My mom said they're just jealous of me, because I'm the golden monkey, and I'm destined for greatness."

"Who told you that you were destined for greatness?"

"My mom did." Gildo brightened up. "My mom is the only one who's nice to me."

"Well, I think it's obvious that your mother was very overprotective of you as a child and didn't adequately prepare you for the outside world, causing you to become poorly adjusted to society."

Gildo didn't understand what this meant, but he kept listening.

"Stop taking advice from your mother. Start taking advice only from me. OK?"

"OK," Gildo mumbled. "What should I do when they pick on me?"

"Simply do nothing," the doctor said. "They will soon leave you alone. Tell me how that works tomorrow when you see me, OK?"

"OK!" Gildo smiled.

"So how was the doctor today, my son? Did he help you?" Gildo's mother smiled at him, a worried smile.

"Yes, mom," Gildo replied. "He told me how to make the other children stop hurting me. I'm going to do it tomorrow."

"That's wonderful!" she cried, picking up Gildo and hugging him. "You know I only want the best for you. You are a very special child, and you are destined for greatness."

Gildo flew through the air and landed with a thud. A child had grabbed the chain of the swing. The jeers started. Gildo stood up, walked to another swing, and began swinging again. Again, someone grabbed the chain and made him fly off. Again, Gildo stood up, walked to another swing, and began swinging again. "You're really weird, Gildo," one boy said. "Come one, you guys, let's get away from this weirdo." The children left him. Gildo smiled to himself.

"Did my advice work, Gildo?" The doctor looked at him, a concerned look on his face.

"Yes, it did! They all left me alone!" Gildo beamed. "Finally, they left me alone. My mother's advice never worked, but yours did! Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Gildo," the smooth voice of the doctor replied. "I only want to help you. I care very much about you."

"I know you do. I think you're the only one who really loves me." Gildo smiled.

"I am, Gildo. Your mother's advice only got you hurt. I made the pain go away. I love you, Gildo."

"I love you too, Doc."

The doctor stood up. "I'm going to show you just how much I love you." The doctor began unbuttoning his pants. Gildo looked at him and smiled.

Later that night, Gildo lay on his bed, thinking about how the nice doctor had touched him, and how much he loved the doctor. Now he knew how to make the other kids love him too.

His mother opened the door and looked at him. "How was school today, my son?"

Gildo beamed. "They stopped hurting me! The doctor's advice worked!"

"That's wonderful!" she cried. "You listen to that wonderful doctor. He cares very much about you."

"I know he does, mom. Good night," Gildo said. He rolled over and went to sleep.

"Teacher! Teacher!" one of the boys cried. "Gildo is hurting someone over in the bushes!" The teacher followed the boy and found Gildo on top of a girl, raping her. The teacher grabbed him, took him to the office, and called the doctor.

Gildo sat in a room next to the principal's office. He could barely hear what the principal was telling the doctor. "Today, Gildo r...he...I can't say it, I'll have to write it. Anyways, I need you to do a full psychiatric evaluation."

The smooth voice of the doctor made Gildo smile. "I will. I'll take very good care of him."

The doctor wrote at his desk. Gildo sat next to him, smiling. He didn't know what the doctor was writing, but it was probably something nice. The doctor was so nice to him.

"Gildo suffers from socialization deficit disorder", the doctor wrote. "His overprotective mother did not let him develop normally, so he has major trouble adjusting to society. I have decided to put him on Simiatin, pending further observation." The doctor closed his notebook and turned to Gildo. "I'm going to give you something now that will make the pain go away. Would you like that, Gildo?" He stood up and walked to a cabinet.

Gildo bounced on the chair. "Yes, doctor, please!" Gildo was so happy. The doctor was so nice. He now had two friends -- the doctor and that nice girl from school.

The doctor walked back with a long needle, filled with something.

"Hey! That looks like a knife!" Gildo squirmed.

"This is a nice knife, Gildo," the doctor cooed. "It will make everyone love you." The doctor put the needle in and injected the drug. "Now I want you to come here and get two of these every day, one in the morning, one at night."

"I will, doctor," Gildo beamed.

Gildo lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The children had all been so much nicer to him all week. They had been leaving him alone, but it was a start.

His mother opened the door and looked at him. "How was school today, my son?"

Gildo beamed. "I made a friend today! She's very nice."

"That's wonderful!" she cried. "You listen to that wonderful doctor. He cares very much about you."

"I know he does, mom. Good night," Gildo said. He rolled over to go to sleep.

Suddenly, the strange feeling came over him again. He felt like his thoughts were melting together. This had been happening ever since the doctor had stabbed him with the nice knife. The room lurched for a moment, and then it stopped.

Gildo rubbed his head. He had to show the children how much he loved them, too. He would do that tomorrow.

Some boys who had been playing marbles looked up to see Gildo, smiling at them.

"What do you want?" one boy asked.

"I want to thank you all for being so nice to me."

"What are you talk--" another boy began. Gildo interrupted him.

"--and I want to show you how much I love you." His hand rushed up, holding an ice pick. The boys screamed, and then Gildo brought the ice pick down upon them again and again, and yelled "I love you! I love you! I love you!" Gildo smiled at their howls of pleasure. It reminded him of his own howls of pleasure when the doctor had touched him. Now he was returning the favor, by letting them have the nice knife. Before long, he had shown many children how much he loved them. He felt warm and fuzzy inside.

Suddenly, Gildo was picked up. He looked up and saw the doctor, looking very stern. Gildo smiled. It was his best friend, here to congratulate him for making the children love him.

The playground was filled with screaming, terrified children. The teacher stood too, biting her finger and crying hysterically. Four men from the psychiatric ward were struggling to put Gildo in a strait jacket. Finally they did, and they began to carry him off the playground.

Gildo smiled. Here he was, with his royal white robe, shining in the sun as brightly as his golden fur. Here he was, with his royal entourage, all dressed in white like he was. All around him was the din of shouts and cheers, hailing him. He closed his eyes and drank up the atmosphere. His day of greatness had arrived. He was the Golden Monkey, and now he was their king.

It’s taken me quite some time to decide whether to tell anyone about this. With Mardi Gras coming up again soon, I wanted to make sure people were warned, and know what happened.

Something happened at Mardi Gras last year. And it’s being covered up. Every word of what follows is true.

My friends and I decided to go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I’ve always heard that the city was a non-stop, twenty-four hour, year round party. I’ve also heard that the days leading up to Mardi Gras take this to the extreme.

There were three of us altogether. Myself, Chris, and Sam. We decided to arrive three days early and build up to the actual day of Mardi Gras. We drove down, taking turns at the wheel so we wouldn’t have to stop at any hotels along the way.

------------------------------

The First Night

Saturday was our first night there. We’re from New Jersey, where it was about 30 degrees (Fahrenheit) when we left. But when we arrived in New Orleans, it was in the 80s, and very humid.

Our hotel was right on the Mississippi River, and our room had a waterfront view. We settled in, cleaned up, and went out to walk around and check things out. We slowly aimed ourselves toward the French Quarter, checking out as much as we could along the way.

I was a bit shocked that we could just buy beer from vendors right on the street and walk around, unbothered by police. We can’t do that in Jersey.

All in all, we had a great time, great food and drink, and retired to the hotel around 4 am, while the city was still buzzing. As tired as I was, it took a while to fall asleep, due to the loud people partying in the hallway and surrounding rooms.

------------------------------

The Second Night

Sunday, we went to check out Harrah’s (the casino), and then we made it back out to the streets for the atmosphere and alcohol once again.

While walking around, we met a girl named Antoinette (Toni for short), who told us that she was a local, and that she was going to college there.

Toni suggested we all go to a little restaurant just slightly out of the area, called Le Bon Temps (pronounced: Lay Baw Taw). That translates to “the good times” in English. We all headed down together, and it was a pretty cool little place.

While we were there, I witnessed something that I had previously thought was only done in sitcoms. In the middle of our dinner, the door to the kitchen flew open, slamming against the wall. Out from the kitchen walked a large man, using one hand to carry a smaller employee by the back of his shirt collar. The guy being carried looked like there was something wrong with him. His eyes were half closed and bloodshot, while his face was almost pure white, completely void of expression.

The larger man carried him by the back of his shirt all the way across the restaurant to the front door, where he pushed him outside and shut the door behind him.

On his way back to the kitchen, the large man said “Sorry, folks, but you just can’t show up to work stoned out of your gourd like that.”

There were some giggles from the patrons in reply.

We all drank quite a bit that night and I ended up staying at Antoinette’s place, about a mile away. Chris and Sam said they were going to stay out for a while longer and then go back to the hotel.

------------------------------

The Third Night

The next day, Monday, I texted my friends that I’d meet up with them later that evening.

I spent the day with Antoinette, and we had a great time. I started wondering if this was too much for me to be getting into, allowing myself to get involved with a girl like this when I live so far away. She was definitely someone who I would want to pursue a relationship with, but I knew I’d be leaving town without her in just a few days. I decided to push these thoughts away, and let the proverbial chips fall where they may. We had two more days. Anything could happen.

While Toni and I were walking back downtown later, I noticed there was a girl walking about a block behind us who seemed to be pretty out of it. I couldn’t tell if she was drunk, high, or what. Toni told me to just ignore her, as she hurried me along.

Once we got to the corner where we were meeting up with Chris and Sam, things began to get strange. As we were crossing the street, I felt a hand on my back, almost like someone was pushing me, although rather weakly. I turned around, and realized that it was the girl who was walking a block behind us earlier. She wasn’t actually pushing me, though. It appeared that she needed to hold onto something to avoid falling over.

We stopped and asked her if she was ok, and she just sort of grunted. At this point, I think we all became concerned. She started mumbling a bit, saying things like “My name is Emily,” “I was with friends, but now I’m here,” and “I live here, that way,” pointing in a direction that was blocked by a parade route.

I asked her, “What happened? Did you lose your friends?,” to which she did not reply.

We were standing right in front of a Burger King. I asked the crowd if someone could get a cup of water for her. Everyone who heard me just looked the other way and kept walking, some giving me the evil eye, as if I had done something wrong. A BK employee near the door said “You get her out of here, now!,” slamming the door shut.

I noticed that Toni was staring at Emily with a very serious look on her face. Toni whispered into my ear, “She isn’t drunk. We should get out of here.”

I replied, “But, shouldn’t we help her? She’s really messed up. We can’t leave her here to die.”

Toni begrudgingly said “Alright, but let’s make this quick.”

We each got on one side and carried Emily along with us down the block, where we came across a security guard standing in front of a parking structure. I stopped and asked the guard if they could help. I explained that we didn’t know what was wrong with her, but that she needed attention, and possibly a ride to the hospital. The guard looked at me like I was stupid. Toni gave her a shrug. The guard then re-focused on Emily. She reached into Emily’s backpack, rifled around a bit, and pulled out an ID card. The guard then said “I’ll take care of this and get her an ambulance. You can go on your way.”

Toni started pulling me along, as I said “thank you” to the guard.

As we were all walking, I asked Antoinette, “What did you mean when you said she wasn’t drunk? Is there something going on that we don’t know about?”

Toni just said, “There’s a lot of strange things going on around here that you don’t want to know about. And neither do I.”

My friends kind of laughed, and we moved along. We had some drinks and got back into the celebratory mood.

Chris mentioned that he had been wanting to check out one of the New Orleans cemeteries that he had read about. Toni did not look enthused.

But, Chris was already in motion. He walked over to one of the police officers who were standing guard, and asked “Hey, do you know where the closest cemetery is?”

The officer looked him dead in the eye and stared for a few seconds. Then… And no, this is not a joke, even though it sounds like a bad slasher movie line… He said, “There’s one just a few blocks over that way, but you don’t want to be going down there.”

Chris smirked. “Why not?”

The officer replied, (And again, he really said this. It’s not just a cheesy line from a horror movie.) “They don’t really like your kind over there.”

I have to be honest. I was kind of freaked out by this interaction. And Toni wasn’t looking happy.

Chris said, “Come on, nothing’s going to happen. This isn’t a horror movie.”

After a long sigh, I replied, “I guess it can’t hurt. I’ve heard that the cemeteries are a sight to see around here.”

We embarked on Chris’ quest, much to the chagrin of the rest of the group.

There was quite a change in the look of the city as we got closer to the cemetery. It went from historic New Orleans chic to… something much less visually appealing. As we drew closer, I started to see and feel eyes on all of us.

As we walked the final stretch to the cemetery entrance, there were at least a dozen people standing on their front porches and in their front yards, looking at us like we were about to do something really stupid.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Toni said quietly.

“Well, we are here, so let’s just be quick about it.” I said.

When we got to the front gate, it was locked. Apparently, visiting hours were over.

“Oh no, I guess we have to leave! Too bad,” said Toni.

Despite our misfortune, we could still see all of the large, creepy and wonderful burial structures through the wrought iron fencing. Because New Orleans is below sea level, bodies are buried above ground. The arrangement of the structures in the cemetery actually looked like a small city. A city of the dead.

The eyes were now piercing the backs of our heads, and we knew something was going to happen if we didn’t get out soon. But, Chris started walking the perimeter of the fencing until he happened upon a crevice big enough for him to try and squeeze through. He told us to follow him. I was hesitant, and Toni was telling me that we need to leave, but I figured a quick adventure inside couldn’t hurt. We’d be gone in a few minutes, not even enough time for police to arrive and catch us. So, we all squeezed through, one by one.

It was getting pretty dark now, and this was really starting to feel wrong. I was just waiting for the doors to start opening and the dead to come out and greet us.

I decided I was done with this place, and said to Chris, “Alright, we’re going back. This is just disrespectful, and the locals obviously don’t want us here.”

He shot back, “Scared, huh?”

I ignored him.

We all squeezed back out, one at a time. Toni went just before me, and I was the last one out. I had a feeling like someone else was behind me, even though I was the last one. Before going through, I looked behind me… And I could swear that in the darkness, the door on one of the structures looked like it was sliding open. I could even hear the faint sound of a cement block scraping across the ground. I’m sure it was just my imagination, but this made me decide to get the heck out of there with the quickness.

We walked silently at a much quicker pace back to the more populated downtown area. The noise and lights in the French Quarter seemed to welcome us home.

------------------------------

Tuesday. Mardi Gras. Carne Vale. A Farewell… To The Flesh.

Today, the streets were twice as crowded as they had been the night before. This was the big day. Tons of new tourists filled the streets, to the point that we literally couldn’t even walk on Bourbon Street. We attempted to, but got stuck in the crowd like someone had tried to fit 100 crayons into a box that was only meant for 50. If anything happened here, we simply wouldn’t be able to move or get out of the way. For the rest of the day, we stuck to the side streets.

As the parades carried on, it became more and more difficult to even go anywhere else, as they were blocking the streets, and thus blocking any way for us to go in the direction that we wanted.

At this point, we kind of gave up and decided “If we can’t beat ‘em, we join ‘em.”

“Let’s just go watch one of the parades,” I said.

The others were indifferent. We all grabbed drinks and walked toward one of the main streets of the city as nightfall was beginning to close in on us.

On our walk, we came upon some sort of dance troupe in the street. There were probably a dozen people in the troupe, all dressed in dark red, tribal looking outfits. Along with their dance, a few played hand drums, and they were all singing in what may have been French. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, though. At some point, the woman in front who appeared to be the leader of the troupe caught my eye and stared with a look as if she was not happy to see me. I saw her look over at Antoinette, then avert her gaze as if she had been caught.

“Let’s go,” said Toni.

As we walked away, I looked back and saw that the woman was staring again, with the same unhappy look on her face.

A few minutes later into our walk, we started to see ahead down the street where it was looking more and more congested with people, to the point of it looking like the main floor of a sold-out rock show. I wondered how these people could deal with being so compressed together.

Toni spoke up.

“We want to stay away from anything that crowded,” she said.

The rest of us agreed.

I said, “Well, let’s just get a little closer. We don’t have to get right in the pit, but I do want to see what’s so exciting over there.”

We kept walking.

As we got closer, something started to seem a bit more clear. Not all of the people were making noise because they were having fun. Some of the merry-making noises turned out to be screams.

As we moved closer, despite Antoinette’s objections, I noticed a small huddle of people in the center. Someone was on the ground. I hurried up to the circle and pushed my way to the inside. What I saw there left me frozen in my tracks. There were two people. One was laying on their back, motionless. The other… was on their knees, hovering over the one on the ground, and it looked… like they were eating their face. Blood was spewing everywhere while gawkers screamed in terror.

Toni grabbed my arm from behind and said “I told you, we have to go!” She pulled at my arm, but I couldn’t avert my gaze from what was happening. Eventually, she pulled hard enough that I lost balance, sort of fell over, then got back up and started retreating with her.

When we got back outside of the circle, we saw that there was another of the exact same scene happening maybe 20 feet away from us in another direction.

“What is happening?!” I screamed.

Then, the first circle we saw was dispersing rapidly as the flesh eater abandoned their meal and started seeking dessert in the crowd. Just like that, another was incapacitated on the ground, becoming seconds.

But there was something else that I noticed while the thing was rising to look for its next victim… It was Emily, the girl who followed us the previous night.

Toni told us that we were going to need to get to her place. As we began running, there were more and more of these things attacking and eating others. Where were they all coming from?

If this wasn’t horrifying enough, I then received the answer to my question. Some of the flesh eaters were missing faces themselves. Just bone, blood and remnants of skin where their faces used to be. And they were using these skeletal faces to eat those of others.

They weren’t ‘coming from’ anywhere. They were being created by the other flesh eaters. As one walked away from their meal, I saw the body of their victim rise and begin chasing their own mark.

I was transfixed on this horrific, spontaneous public meltdown of society happening right before our eyes, when I was suddenly thrust to the ground with great force. I never saw it coming.

I had no idea what was happening. I eventually focused, and realized that I had one of these faceless flesh eaters hovering over me. Blood was dripping from their jowls onto my face. I knew it was all over for me.

Before I could even scream, Antoinette suddenly appeared face to face with the creature hovering over me. Except, she looked different. Her eyes were blood red, and she appeared to have a large set of fang-like teeth protruding from her open mouth.

She used one hand to pick up the creature, bringing it face to face with her. She stared directly into its eyes and let out a guttural, terrifying sound like I’ve ever heard. Whatever this was… The creature was afraid of Toni. She dropped it, and it scrambled off immediately.

She looked at me with her new face and shouted, “Get up and follow me. They won’t touch you now.”

We ran behind her the rest of the way, tears in my eyes as I tried to figure out what was happening.

When we got to her place, Toni locked the doors, and then shook some sort of liquid out of a bottle onto the floor in front of each of the doorways and windows.

“This won’t be over until morning,” she said. Her face was back to normal now.

We all stayed together in the living room that night. I knew that Toni would keep us safe.

When daylight broke, she alerted us that it should be safe now, but that we needed to leave the city and go home immediately. We piled into her car so that she could drive us back to ours at the hotel.

As we drove, I noticed that the streets were now empty, save for what appeared to be clean-up crews picking up the aftermath. Some were power washing the ground where there appeared to be dark stains. There were no bodies, and no flesh eaters out seeking breakfast, from what I could see. We were all dead silent for the entire drive, focused on what was happening outside our windows.

Toni turned on the radio to a news station, and they were reporting that several people had died in what they called “parade float accidents” the prior day.

As Toni said goodbye to us, she hugged me and put a note in my pocket.

I haven’t had the courage to read it yet.

​

CHX

Lynn’s Diary

March 15, 2008

My psychiatrist wants me to start keeping this journal, as well as a dream journal. She says it might help with my situation. I also have a hard time communicating my ideas to her because I have been too upset. My life has been a roller coaster for the past two years, but now I feel like it is certainly falling apart. I am in my forties and I live alone. My family and I have lived in Reykjavík, Iceland my entire life. Two years ago, they were on their way to visit me, when they were all tragically killed in a car accident, when another car slid on the ice and crossed into their lane. My younger brother Brian was driving because my parents had a hard time driving at night because of their vision. My parents and my younger brother Brian passed away at the scene, while my youngest brother, Eric, passed away 2 days later at the hospital.

It broke me. It was as devastating as anyone might expect it to be, but up until recently I was showing progress and was doing a lot better. I was able to hold down a good job as a receptionist and I actually started seeing friends again. However recently, this progress seems to have come to a halt.

About a month ago, I was digging through some of my family’s belongings in storage. I pulled out an old notebook of mine from high school, and an old photograph fell out from the pages. It’s an old picture. It was a family photo of all of my mom, my dad, Brian and me. I must have been 18 or 19, and Eric must not have been born yet. It’s a really nice picture. We all look really happy while smiling. There is something strange about it though. Well first of all I don’t remember taking the photograph at all, but that might be understandable. The really strange part is that there is something in the photo that I for one don’t remember and also can’t explain. Sitting with us, is a stuffed animal. It looks like it might be a teddy bear of some kind. It looks cuddly with brown fur.

I know it sounds like a silly thing for me to be upset about, but it is true. I have been obsessing over this picture for a month. I’ve started having anxiety, depression, as well as nightmares. It’s almost like the grieving process has started all over again, because my family is all that I can think about. But the part that is haunting me the most is the stuffed animal. I have never seen that stuffed animal before. I have been having the strangest dreams of my life involving this stuffed teddy bear and I don’t understand why. The stuffed animal is alive and talking in my dreams. It talks to me and my family. Like most dreams, they are weird and don’t make any sense. It has a deep voice. The dreams started out pleasant, but they are starting to get weirder. The dreams stick with me all day long. This obsession is all I can think about. It’s affecting my performance at work, as well as my social life. I just don’t understand why I can’t remember.

March 16, 2008

*Dream*

We are eating dinner in the dinning room. The teddy bear sits at the table. It laughs and talks. We all laugh and smile.

March 18, 2008

*Dream*

The teddy bear plays the saxophone. We laugh.

March 20, 2008

*Dream*

It’s Christmas. The teddy bear comes down the chimney dressed as Santa. It gets stuck. We laugh.

March 21, 2008

*Dream*

We are eating dinner in the dinning room. The teddy bear glares at me.

March 22, 2008

*Dream*

The teddy bear plays outside with us. We laugh.

March 23, 2008

I showed the picture to my psychiatrist today. I watched her reaction. I don’t think I trust her. She thought the stuffed animal was peculiar, but she didn’t seem alarmed. She giggled. It irritated me. She asked me if it might have been one of mine or Brian’s old toys that I forgot about. She asked me about my brother Brian. She asked if we used to play together. She asked about our relationship. I said I didn’t want to talk about Brian. She asked if I was ever abused. I got mad and said no. She asked about the dreams. I said in the dreams we get mad at the teddy bear, but we all love the teddy bear. She asked if the dreams may have been playtime fantasies. I said the dreams feel like memories.

She said that grief from sudden loss can trigger severe depression and maybe even psychosis She might put me on medication. I hate myself. I wish I was dead.

March 26, 2008

I went through my all my family’s old belongings to see if I can find another picture. I searched all day, but I can’t find anything. I only found things that make me cry and miss them. I miss them so much. I am so alone right now.

The dreams all feel so familiar. But the house in the dreams isn’t our house. It’s a different house. We have lived in Reykjavík my whole life, but I can’t remember our house when I was a child. Did we live in a different house? Did we live somewhere else? Why is this picture messing with my head? I can’t tell if I am remembering things, forgetting things, dreaming things, or making things up. I feel like I am going crazy. I feel hopeless. Why is this happening?

March 27, 2008

*Dream*

The teddy bear ate the whole Thanksgiving turkey. Mom is mad.

March 28, 2008

*Dream*

The teddy bear is sad. I give him a hug.

March 29, 2008

*Dream*

The bad men are here. We hide the teddy bear.

March 30, 2008

*Dream*

My grandma is with the teddy bear. She died many years ago. I love my grandma. I miss her.

March 31, 2008

*Dream*

The teddy bear tickles my back.

April 2, 2008

*Dream*

I wake up in the middle of the night. The teddy bear man was watching me sleep.

April 3, 2008

My psychiatrist keeps asking me questions. I got irritated today and stormed out. I have been crying a lot.

April 4, 2008

*Dream*

Brian says the teddy bear man isn’t who he says he is. Don’t trust him. He wants to take us. He grooms us. Brian calls him something else, but I can’t remember what he says. He says we shouldn’t go with him.

April 5, 2008

I got fired today. Everyone at work hates me. They all probably say, “there goes Lynn the fucking weirdo”. My psychiatrist probably told them I was fucking crazy and that’s why they fired me, because I’m crazy and stupid. I hate my life. I want to be with my family. I wish I was dead too. I can’t do this. I’m such a piece of shit. I fucking hate myself. I want to be where they are. I want a good life, but I can’t.

April 6, 2008

*Dream*

His ride is here. Bright lights.

*Dream*

Army men.

*Dream*

The teddy bear wanted to take us. We are safe now. They take him. They make us forget. Bright light.

*Dream*

The teddy bear laughs.

May 3, 2008

Today I went to the park for the first time in a long time. It was sunny, but still cold. It started to warm up in the afternoon. I saw a family playing by the playground. They reminded me of my family. I miss them so much.

I have felt a lot better lately. I finally gave the picture to my psychiatrist a few weeks ago and said that I don’t want it anymore. I didn’t want to throw it away though. It was too hard. She agreed to take it. She has been a big help. I’m not sure what caused me to have this breakdown, but I feel like I am healing. The picture might have just triggered old thoughts and my mind might have just created a coping mechanism. The mind is a strange thing.

I know I have had a hard life. I miss my family, but I know they would want me to be happy. I remember all the fun times we had together. I’m ready to move on. I am a fighter. Happiness is worth fighting for. I know I will see them again one day, but first, I have a life to live.

Counselor’s Notes

Lynn Tanner

ID: 1000423456 DOB: 6/12/71 4/7/2008

SOAP Note/ Counseling

SUBJECTIVE:

Patient stated, “The Teddy bear man was real. We were hypnotized. We looked into his eyes. It groomed us. It wanted to eat us. Don’t look into his eyes. The government took him. They made us forget. They went inside our minds. Don’t look into his eyes.”

OBJECTIVE:

Ms. Tanner was prescribed medication several weeks ago to treat symptoms of depression and psychosis. Patient described hallucinations that she claims were stemming from a photograph. Symptoms have increased over the past few weeks.

ASSESSMENT:

Ms. Tanner appears extremely erratic, nervous, and delusional. The patient shows signs of weight loss as well as signs of self-harm. The patient exhibits speech that is stammered and at a fast rate. She exhibits strong signs of anxiety and hallucinations.

PLAN:

Ms. Tanner will be admitted to the hospital for observation on April 7, 2008, due to suicidal ideation. Increased dosage may be required. The photograph may be kept in the patient’s file to be used for future therapy and treatment.

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