Among the Fallen: Resurrection

Read Among the Fallen: Resurrection Online

Authors: Ross Shortall,Scott Beadle

Tags: #Splatter horror, #splatter, #toxic shock publishing, #Terror, #ghosts, #science fiction, #Cannibalism, #alexandra beaumont, #part one, #Horror, #ross shortall, #among the fallen, #Demonic Possession, #supernatural, #scifi, #Satanic Stories, #epic, #Thriller, #Torture horror, #B-Movie Horror, #Action-Adventure, #zombie, #scott beadle, #resurrection, #scary, #Paranormal horror, #Psychological horror, #Macabre, #Reincarnation, #Suspense, #Gothic, #zombies

BOOK: Among the Fallen: Resurrection
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AUTHORS WORDS I – SCOTT BEADLE

I aint a writer, story teller or novelist, and you may find some truly bizarre use of words and some strange sentence construction. It’s not done to annoy you I promise, I simply write as I speak; maybe I will play with words a bit to avoid repetition – but that’s as far as it goes. I do not read books, so I have no idea how a good book is crafted, all I have done is crafted my salvation.

Even as a child I remember being a tad peculiar, I had imaginary friends that bore wounds and sad faces; which stayed with me right through my teens. I would see people walking through my room, walking passed bus stops and mingling with real people blindly. I suffered with sleep paralysis, night terrors and nightmares beyond a child’s imagination, all were put in my head by the one imaginary friend that I could communicate with – ghostly stories of demons, ghosts and the afterlife; memories and experiences that as a six year-old were not my own. At seven, I had already accepted our eventual death as a way of life, trying to get my head round the conscience level of life and what happens to it after. I’m still plagued by the nightmares and the sleep paralysis even to this day, all the dreams remain the same and the characters almost haunt me. Among the Fallen is a gallery of events, a log of my many nightmares all strung together loosely into a story, which too is a nightmare that I have constantly.

Originally, I was going to create a graphic novel, but after the first few chapters I found it impossible trying to put over the atmosphere I wanted; people loved the artwork and its construction, but that wasn’t what I was trying to put over – the images took away the theme, so with my friend, Ross – I stepped into a whole new pond and pissed in someone else’s pool.

Among the Fallen, probably only just scratches the surface, with all four books combined it merely taps into about ten percent of the shit going through my mind. I’ve been looking at the reviews on websites of other books and I know it’s a harsh world and I fully expect and appreciate that this book is likely to get slammed and shit on, that’s life. But the purpose of Among the Fallen is not to get rave reviews; I merely wanted to share my thoughts and nightmares to those who are interested.

Alex in the story is me, in my nightmares, I have seen the places she finds, I experienced the things she sees, I walked the same streets she has – she is also based physically on my imaginary friend who I had as a child. When I was growing up, I feared Alex, her stories terrified me and I just wanted her to go away and leave me alone, and she did. But now, I regret exiling her and I miss her terribly.

Now my adult mind can deal with her, I want her back – I want those stories and I have so many questions I need to ask her. Who knows, maybe one day she will return, maybe she will forgive me for growing up and casting her aside like I did.

This may come as a shock to some, but not if you know me. Ex-girlfriends will tell you how I walk around at night; they spend their sleeping cuddles mostly alone. I choose nightshifts over nine-to-five, I have eyes like a raccoon most days; for me, my night-time world is a curse. Sometimes I wonder if there are multiple realms as told here, if they do exist – is it possible that some really unlucky people walk both words?

AUTHORS WORDS II: ROSS SHORTALL

Well who would have thought it, me and Scott writing a book? Well, anyone that knows us will probably say we have the imagination for it but to actually pull it off? Well, that’s another story, or another book maybe.

There a few reasons why I decided to co-write this story, my imagination and thoughts are a bit warped and disturbing but that’s just normal I think. I’m a fan of horror of any other media, but we got distressed at what has been passing itself off as horror these days, so we thought we would write something that we would want to read or watch. I have had a lot of time alone with my thoughts and imagination, which, with a mind like mine is a good thing, but also bad. I spent most of my life in hospitals due to my medical condition and let me tell you, in hospital you see the happiest times in people’s lives and also the darkest and saddest, experiencing both from a very young age. I have also been in immense physical and emotional pain, pain that is impossible to describe when the one thing that you want to do is either scream from any rooftop, any words or noise that would come out; or run away and hide in a dark corner so nothing else can be done to you. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even move in my bed due to the pain and medical equipment, so I had to go to my mind and my own little world.

People who read our story will probably say we are not right in the head, well actually some people say it to us now, but this story, the people and its demons have been with us for years now, so it’s part of our lives. That is why it’s not about making money or becoming famous; it is very personal and therefore special to us. Scott has, as you have probably read before this; his own dark issues and atonable reasons for writing it, but mine are a lot more vengeful.

Also, it’s a big fuck you to anyone that has made Scott or myself feel like shit and worthless, and trust me, it’s happened a lot to us; our ex-girlfriends, and yes, they know exactly who they are, I hope they are reading our story and enjoying it.

I say many times that I don’t like humans, by which I mean the way that most of them are, the way they think they deserve everything, the way they think we are alone in the universe (as if we are so special?). But there are some humans who I love unconditionally, which are my family who I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for them and my friends; trying infernally to make me feel normal, when in fact, inside I couldn’t feel more different.

So here it is, I hope you enjoy and now we have written it some of our ghosts and demons will leave us alone… for a while at least.

Chapter One: Blackwater

“So that you, your children and their children after them may fear the LORD your God as long as you
live by keeping all his decrees and commands that I give you, and so that you may enjoy long life”

Deuteronomy 4:9

The small suburb of Blackwater was one of Americas finest showcase cities. Heavily funded by the Beaumont Corporation, the city incorporated some of the world’s most cutting edge and largely experimental technologies in known existence. It had pretty much the same as most cities these days; shopping malls; hotels; banks; nightclubs and even its own highly-developed industrial estates; all finely and methodically secured into the Corporation’s super servers, monitoring performance and profit margins to the finest of details. Some would argue that the Corporation spies on both small and the larger businesses that are involved in the
Trident Program
mainframe, but then there are those who claim the Beaumont Corporation’s business advice is crucial to Blackwater’s economic results.

All the people individually were somewhat normal; babies still cried; children ate sweets; adults worked themselves to death, and teenagers were still as ungrateful as they were born to be. But as a population, the citizens were something more; a well-organized workforce that maximized their potential to make the city a very well-oiled and unofficial Corporation syndicate, which loyally followed the Beaumont Corporation’s strategies in return for heavy financial gain. Very few of the residents had debts due to the corporation’s chains of self-governed banks, building societies and profit initiatives; which worked with the businesses and helped structure their marketing schemes rather than against them, as more mainstream banks seem to do these days.

The city itself was hidden away in a bowl of forests and mountains and sat for centuries with no real room for expansion; but that didn’t stop it. Alternatively, the city built upon the island and expanded that further over the lake instead. There were over the years, many projects to expand the city through the protecting woodland and green areas, but the city officials and dwellers enjoyed the seclusion and protection the far-flung woodland offered them. As well as the natural protection, the city was protected by a thirty foot high security wall that was built by the corporation in early 2009. It’s primary purpose was protect Blackwater from immigrants, making it only possible to access the city by just one very well guarded route into the city.

Lake Naccoon was a vast salt water lake which spread for more than a hundred miles around the back of the city, and eventually joined with neighbouring towns and cities and then into the sea just a few miles to the East. The Cross river is the longest in Blackwater, which went through the park and led to Naccoon Lake and from which the city drew the largest part of its drinking water via the Westgate subterranean reservoir. The Circular river ran through the city literally dividing it into West and East, separating the city’s large array of cultures and classes in an unintentional divide that most simply accepted as part as way life. The lake front was mostly man-made and now is home to the city’s rich, a Sea-Life Centre and a vast island of mansions with its own security force, industrial area and another shopping Centre; accessed from the city by a ground-level bridge built in the early sixties when the island was under development. Furthermore, there was a cable car that took a slower, yet more scenic route and a metro train network that weaved in, around and above the city.

The city also had an extensively developed monorail and subway system, designed by the Parker Brothers in 1923. The monorail system serves largely uptown and the Bloom district, with Blackwater Station acting as the central hub taking a more charming route both above and below Blackwater. The underground subway system was known to have eight stops, although before the outbreak, it was at risk of closing due to decreasing passenger numbers.

In 2011, the Beaumont Corporation took over the monorail system and replaced the entire track with the greatly experimental and Beaumont funded floating technology. Basically, both the track and the grappling that held the train to the rails were both highly magnetized, which forced the magnetic fields away from each other while equally holding it to the track, with a near flawless travelling experience. Opponents to the project claim it was just another one of the Beaumont Corporation’s attempts of showcasing their technology, but the truth was; the city of Blackwater is one of the most advanced cities in the United States and almost futuristic in its initial appearance.

Before the island’s current expansion, it was not even a mile wide; it was just a small island that was home to Blackwater Abbey, which was sat there untouched and unused for hundreds of years. Part of the Abbey remains there and is still dark and quiescent now more than ever; yet these days, it is mostly a mere home to the Beaumont family with a morbid history of torturous devil worshiping, slavery and abuse.

One of the more notorious settlers who came to the newly-named Blackwater in the 17th century was a Lucius Beaumont, who had escaped England before he could face trial for practicing witchcraft and religious homicide. Lucius, according to historic documents, built Blackwater Abbey on Nacoon Island, continuing his alleged devil worship. Rumours also claim he was buried somewhere on the island; however, privately funded excavations have found nothing; yet even to this day his body has never been found.

In 1976, building contractors working on Blackwater Island unearthed a metal chest containing the preserved heart and diary of Lucius Beaumont, solidifying his existence and confirming his place in Blackwater’s history. In the diary, which is currently kept in the Blackwater Museum, are descriptions of rituals and sketches of devices that were far beyond the capabilities of some of the best scientists even of today. It would seem that apart from a blood lust of heinous proportions, Lucius was also a highly accomplished and advanced engineer capable of machinery and other elaborate feats of construction. The diary itself sent ripples through history and baffled historians with its predictions of the First and Second World War, Adolf Hitler, the Middle East and the events of nine-eleven. Along with other future events, was the hint that a second Bible existed, referred to only as the Bible of the Dead, which historians and Vatican have claimed doesn’t exist and are the ramblings of an insane man.

Back in the year of 1867, a servant to the Beaumont family, Mafio Sulluci; murdered eight members of the servant’s staff and one member of the Beaumont family. Only then was it revealed after further investigation and research that the estate was built on land previously owned by Lucius Beaumont, a name that was at the time, speciously scrubbed from Beaumont archives. The legend of Lucius Beaumont is widely believed to be the reason behind the city’s rather higher than normal murder record, not so much as stabbings or gangland shootings, but more targeted and creepier murders such as serial killings. Every generation has its serial killer in Blackwater, some more accomplished than others and some remain uncaught to this very day. These days due to science and advances in criminology, the last five were caught and executed as Blackwater still retains its Capital Punishment license as a deterrent, but this does not seem to stop these serial killers appearing every twenty years or so.

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