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Article #532 (Intercepted Email Transmission)

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  • Mathew Morrell
    Biographers are partly correct when they attribute overly rigorous meditation practices with the mental condition that William developed in Yelm. A condition
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 15, 2008

      Biographers are partly correct when they attribute overly rigorous meditation practices with the mental condition that William developed in Yelm.  A condition very similar to somnambulism did indeed arise in correspondence with the hours and sometimes days William spent in meditative trance states.  A split occurred in his personality as normally happens to somnambulists when they sleep walk, oblivious to their surroundings. 

                  The Akashic records were very clear concerning this.  

                  Mafiosose broke into his parent's basement and found William sitting on a bed in the cold darkness:  showing all indications of being immersed in one of these bizarre trances of his; inwardly oblivious to the disorder, coldness, and filth of his surroundings.  Art supplies, dirty cloths and garbage littered the bare cement floor.   

           "Only an animal could live in such a mess," one Mafioso remarked.

           "Or an artist," another interjected.  His nose wrinkled.  

           "Artists and animals.  Both live from their instincts, and both live in their own filth.  Vermin."

                  All that was required to break into the basement was a forceful push upon the door, and the men entered without requiring a pick lock.  Sun light cut into the haze of the basement and produced a sharp beam that fell upon the meditating somnambulist sitting upright in the lotus posture.  His face glowed in the beam and a draft stirred the feminine curls covering his ears and neck.

                  The over-sized Mafioso's glared curiously from the sunlit threshold. 

                  "Did you try waking him?" one asked.

                  "Did I ever!  I tried yelling too."

                  "I guess that didn't rouse him?"

                  "No, it didn't.  He didn't wake up even when I pricked his arm with a pencil.  He just sat there, like he's sitting there now, like some kind of circus freak."

                  The breeze eliminated what little warmth that was produced by a portable electric heater by the roll-out bed.  As they neared the bed, it became apparent that the boy was shirtless and donning an emo style hairdo; long bangs brushed to one side of the face, dyed black #1.  A skull tattooed his right shoulder.  He was wearing black leather pants and gold rings dangled from both nipples.  His eyes were rolled back into his skull so that only the whites were visible when a Mafioso lifted his eye lids, as if uncertain whether the boy wasn't playing possum.  Somehow the boy managed to retain the dignity of his posture, without actually being conscious of his body or the fact that the Mafioso's were ransacking the house. 

                  News had spread concerning the Pentakotic Gateway Series and the hundreds of canvases that accompanied the series as individual revelations bearing witness to the Anti Christ, some of which showed international figures veiled in extreme secrecy.  Above the dryer, hung on the bare cement wall, a canvas showed the horrific image of a blood-splattered surgeon operating upon a patient and holding a dripping scalpel.  Despite the surgical mask, it was possible to identity the surgeon in the oil painting; the hawk-like eyes, the long, sallow face, and the back slanted forehead left no question.  The features were rendered accurately enough to terrify those responsible for concealing his identity.  All the canvases were emptied from the basement and loaded into a refrigerated meat truck parked in the driveway.

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