Death was always apart of the Bargain

For the record, death was always part of the bargain. If that isn’t chilling enough, the woods between the pond and lake, evoke feelings of dread. State my name for the record? What’s in a name, identity, meaning, tradition? Undeniably names hold a great deal of pride, passion and pain. My name is Southern Yuppie Laurent. My father, an insatiable drunk who held his liquor quite well until he didn’t, named me. I assure you, as unfortunate as it has been for me to be called S’uppie, my entire life, it is my legal name. This is not for entertainment or enjoyment. This is to clear the air, set the record straight and answer directly any and all questions. My brother Jude is not tragically misunderstood, he is a chilling murderer. My mother will convince you otherwise, be careful. The statement posed was, “everyone loves a good horror story.” Certainly this is not a factual statement. My life is a horror story, I have not loved it. Is it a good horror story? You tell me. The wickedness that lurks inside my brother, scares his own shadows away. Yes, I meant shadows, one for each dark and demented personality trait he either possess or is possessed with. You decide. One of his imaginary friends ran away from home to get away from my brother Jude. His nightmares are too afraid to haunt him. Exaggerating, sir, I don’t have to exaggerate, create or imagine evil. I lived with, slept beside, broke bread with and shook its hand. Depravity, I can call it by name, and that name is brother. Could I share an example? I can do better, I can include a story or seven. You decide. The question is, do you have a psychotherapist on speed dial? You’ll need mental backup.

Do you want to know my address or the address? The address, 579 Jordan Drive. Who raised me? My parents raised me. I grew up on the back forty with my brothers. I do have a sister, I chose not to speak her name. Oh I understand, I must for the record. For the record, her name is Jacquelyn, Jackie. My brothers? Jude, Jude is the oldest brother. Tucker is the next in line. Of course then there is the unspeakable, Jackie. Eight years younger than me, our baby brother Shepard. I’m certain he was named after my father’s favorite dog. My dad fondly called him “Oops.” Yes the pond is on the back forty. It’s location? The pond was about a mile from the wooded area and the lake runs right behind the woods. The underground home or coffin, as it is now being called? It was somewhere between the pond and the lake. When did it come about? I really can’t say. It isn’t about the record your honor. I don’t know how or when Jude had the psychological or physical strength to tunnel, map out and create those paths to chaos and madness. The exact location, as I said, it was on the back forty, between the pond and the lake. A nod to our childhood no doubt. The media reported a lot of falsities. Parents, the ones that dutifully remind you or your children that it’s not real, or that it can’t hurt you. Wake from your slumber oh sleepers, it is real. All bodies of water have a primal lure, the pond however had a sexy haunting attraction to it.

State for the record how I escaped? Did I escape? Can anyone ever escape what has happened? Physically perhaps, but mentally, I will have to live in complete apathy to escape. Not allowing myself to be alone with my own thoughts, is how I escaped before I was captured. I left the parts of me, the parts that acted as an intruder, I discarded those parts. Oh and for the record, the victims weren’t forced to stay in the mazes or forced into coffins. In fact they found comfort and security in the tombs and with my brother Jude. I’m his favorite brother, though I have never been at ease in his presence. Do I believe it was a cult, or that my misunderstood brother is a cult leader? People naturally give him unquestionable obedience. Look at what he did, it is grandiose, this isn’t his imagination or an idea he had. It exist because of him. Jude built a community under water. To be honest, I don’t know if the name “cult leader” or “narcissist” reflect who he is. What best depicts who he is, the temperature known as absolute zero? I get goosebumps, not the the kind when you are scared or startled. It’s the kind you get when you hear a passionate performance, and you have to stand. When I start to get cold, I know that the cold blows from his icy stare and it flows through my veins. I remember the sun dancing on the water and reflecting in his eyes. Yes his eyes are the color ocean blue. Have I escaped? Will anyone escape, maybe when the twinkle flutters out of those eyes. Scientist have not created the coldest material on earth, my parents have. And when you run death through his veins, maybe then I will escape his icy soul.

As I was saying before, death was always part of the bargain. The words, until death do us part, was chanted at the beginning of scream-time. What was scream-time? Let your campfire imaginations run to the darkest and wildest parts in you. Scream-time was the most petrifying, nerve-racking, blood stopping minutes of each night. I tell you, even the woods screamed the highest pitched noises that echoed in your soul. I can hear the slow blood dripping into the lake when I close my eyes. You’ve heard water drip, blood sounds heinous. It was torture, and Jude savored the fear in each persons eyes. Scream-time wasn’t about jump-scares or gore for gore sakes. Jude wanted to live in their fear. Because everyone trusted him, the waters were fertile ground for intimidation and horror. There was no predicting what he would do, or ask someone to do. The people became as morbidly curious about their own deaths. There they begin to write out their last chapters. Jude would place him self in terrifying and dangerous situations just to feel others hearts pounding. He would close his eyes and instruct us to listen to the fear in the night air. Jude got off to others being scared to death. When we were children he would bring us to the brink of death quite often. My dad would brutally punish him. My mother argued he was tragically misunderstood. The people that followed him into the depths of the water, their stories weren’t original, or terrifying, nor were they horrific. The price was plain out their death stories in front of the panel of judges.

Jude inspired his people in those coffins to rise up and live, before they died. His intentions were that they have a chance at redemption. Dying would have been the easy way out. You have to grant my brother the same opportunity, a chance for redemption. The man whose hobby was killing children, Jude was the judge and jury. It was a gory task, one only Jude could see through to then end. Jude mailed each of his victims one of that mans body parts. My brother did not drowned anyone. It is true he would hold our heads under water, nearly drowning us. He loved near death experiences. We all have our own vengeful demons from our childhood. Judes never allowed any of us to see him. We could only feel him. When Judes demon entered we all had sleep paralysis. We could feel the the malevolent force hovering over us. The woods would scream for us. When did I first see this vengeful demon. When I was a child. I saw it every time adults ignored the wrong done to the innocent children. The last time I saw it, it was walking deep into the lake taking my brother with it. Maybe my brother was taking it with him. Either way, they were both happy to go into the waters. The moon light made it the perfect scene. See, I don’t need your tales of monsters to fuel my nightmares or daymares. I have my own. I wish it was only mythological.

Yes, this is real. Every word you are reading. Before you turn the page, remember don’t fall asleep. Because Jude is hunting the haunted. He will find you in your sleep. Your scream-time will be heard. You will not be able to move, or yell. You will only be able to watch and breath. Close your eyes and wait to feel the breeze climb down the back of your neck and around your shoulders. Feel the crush of its soul agains your skin. This is how you become a misunderstood tragedy. A lifeless soul. Now come to the water and step in. Jude and I will be waiting to greet you. We have already poured the cement for your coffin. What a perfect night to disappear from reality into the mind of someone else, becoming someone only imagined once. Yes walk away. I can see the goosebumps on you. Don’t blink, I’ll be gone and I am coming to get you. SO that you can live out your best bath story. Don’t be afraid we will with it together, you me and Jude. Practice makes perfect. Everyone loves a good horror story right. Come on in, the water feels great. Wait why are you locking me up behind so many walls. Why are you chaining me to cement blocks. You can’t escape this. If you wanted to leave, you would have stopped reading. You belong to our imagination now. Good-bye.