I crawl through the dirt, the mist and grime. On hands and knees I creep ever closer to the great mosolium. I castle of death, centered around this vast and full cemetary. The stench of death perfectly mixed with the moisture of the air assaults my nose, overwhelming as it is, I continue on. Crawling passed graves and crypts. Each looking ancient and forgotten, dirty and barely legible. I see the faint glow of candles and I can feel my journey reaching its climax. I feel the presence of the great castle, the sense of a looming tomb, the home of death himself.
I think and reflect on my life, knowing all I know very well many end here. My wife, my daughter. I find strength to my resolve and continue on, I have to make it back to them. I cannot let them win like this. I recite my speech in my head like a mantra, it’s short but to the point. A simple request of Death. To return to the land of the living, my time can’t be up so soon. I can’t lose my family, abandon my family like this. I feel warmth trickle down my face while I crawl onward. The tears cloud my vision but I follow the candlelight, blurred as it may be. The impending feeling of the castle is so powerful, so potent in the air I could get there blind at this point. I briefly shift my attention to the headstones lining the great walkway, how many of these poor souls made this journey? How many actually convinced Death for a second chance? Is this all for naught? I shake my head trying to convince myself there is hope for me, I can’t give up without even trying to get back. I pause a moment to steady myself, calm my breathing, wipe my tears and then I continue on my knees.
I reflect on my conversation with the gatekeeper, that hooded man that guided me to this journey. Remembering his words so clear it’s inspiring me to continue on. On bloody knees I move on towards the blurred candlelight, picturing my family in my mind to motivate me through to pain and sorrow. To see this journey to its end. To embrace my family once more.** **The man at the gate told me this would be my eternal resting place, to sleep here at peace just as each soul the passed has before me. I remember how desperate my pleas to return were, how pathetic I must have come across. But he reassured me all the same, I was not the first, I will not be the last and to seek an audience with Lord Death. To show humbleness and crawl to the very heart of his domain, his castle amongst the dead. I mustn’t stand, for that would be seen and rude and I surely would never see this journey end, my fate would be eternal walking to a place I could never reach. But if I stay true and crawl the entirety of the journey, he would see me, listen and judge fairly. He watches over the dead, the souls laid to rest, ensures they are cared for and at peace, but if a soul cannot find peace in death, and they approach him with respect and humility, he gives them a chance to plea their case to find true peace. Even rarely granting a second chance at life for those taken too soon.
Suddenly and immediate the mist begins to disapate, I can’t recall how much time has passed now, how long I’ve been crawling towards this place. But with now clear eyes I see rising above me, so high and grand I cannot make out the top. I see a grand staircase lines with ornamental bones, bejeweled and beautiful. Handrails made of femurs, interlaced tibias make the frame for the handrails. Each end post adorned with a pure white skull with sunken and black eye sockets. They do not frighten me, but give an aura of peace, of welcoming. As if inviting me to join them here forever. I shake the feeling and begin climbing the great stairs on my knees, the icy cold steps burn my raw knees. I hadn’t realized how accustomed to the jagged and sharp gravel walkway I’d become until now. The steps seem as if they rise too heaven itself and I feel my body growing weary, begging me for a break. yet I don’t give in, I am so close now, I can’t afford to take breaks. I shake my head and steady my resolve to continue forward, continue my assent to Death.
It feels as if hours have passed up these stairs, and on they go. I feels my legs wanting to give out, my body wants to fail me. Yet I press on, pausing only for a moment’s rest. This has to be a test of some sort, a proof of my devotion to this task. I must see it through, I cannot waiver. My thoughts race only to continue to convince myself of this, to refuse to accept defeat here. I’ve come entirely too far to quit, to rest, to lose. And just as I feel myself stopping, as I feel at my limit, I see just a few steps above lays a grand door. “I’m here”, I weep, as I hurriedly climb the remaining steps. Pausing to calm my breath, calm my nerves and prepare myself to meet Death. As I try to steady myself I finally realize I can smell a comfortable and familiar smell. the smell of my wife’s cooking, of our fireplace roaring and I swear I can even hear my daughter’s laugh. I feel tears begin to stream down my cheeks, overwhelmed with joy but suddenly ruined by the realization that they cannot be here, that I’ve made this journey to return to them back on Earth, not here in Death’s domain. Without drying my eyes I stand and grasp the heavy brass doorknob. I turn it and the door gives way, opening to a cold and dark hall, a throne stands at the far end of the room, and I hear his voice. “Welcome to my home. You’ve certainly earned your audience with me. Passing my trials, my tests, and holding true to your mission. Please come in and speak with me.” I step one foot into the cold room before it bursts into warm candlelight. Chandiliers lining the ceiling come alive with fire and I can see the beauty, the intricate design work of each molding, each groove in the hardwood floors, the walls lined with art I’ve never imagined possible. For a moment I am completely awe struck. How can a place so full of loss and death be so unimaginably beautiful?
I step slowly into the hall, nervous steps echoing across the room. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, nerves so inhumanity alive knowing I will be face to face with Death in but a moment. The walk through the hall is short compared to the journey to took to get here, I almost try and slow my pace to procrastinate the meeting, to calm myself before gazing upon him. I see his figure, massive and grand. Adorned with a beautiful black cloak, a hood obscuring his face. All the legends and storybooks describe him as a skeleton the very end stage of our bodies. But mere feet from him now I can assure that is anything but true. His face is mine, identical to me in every way, his face is my wife’s and my daughters and everyone’s. I cannot put into words to describe him beyond that, a calm comfort washes over me as I see each loved one’s eyes stare back at mine. Not a shapeshifter mind you, more a void filled by memories. A void in a humanoid body. A reflection of life.
I bow deeply upon reaching him, awaiting his acceptance of my virtue. “Rise my dear fellow, rise and speak your story. How may I be of service to you?”. I whimper, the thoughts race, reflecting on my journey, reflecting on my mission. Reflecting to my family and my life. Each memory flashes before me, so fast I can’t enjoy it, there is no time to savor each beloved memory. “Please sir, you have to send me back. I have to go back to my family, they need me!” I beg, mustering the strongest voice my wreck of a body can muster. “Please”. I pause and await his response, yet no words come out. I look into his void of a face, at each of my loved ones faces reflected back at me, and sob. My voice cracks, as tears fall yet again. “Please, won’t you say something?!”. There is a pause broken by a deep sigh, “You’ve come so far, fought through pain, exhaustion, and maintained your resolve all this way. But you do not remember dear boy. You cannot remember for my kiongdom won’t allow it. Here all souls lay to rest, souls broken, battered, exhausted. Those are the ones you’ve seen on your journey here. Restless spirits, that this land allows peace, allows them to forget what keeps them clinging to life. And you’ve made it all the way here and deserve answers before it is your turn to rest.” Shocked and angry I yell, “I was told you could send me back! I don’t want to forget my family so I can just sleep for eternity!”. Another pause before he replies, “look into my eyes, and you will remember what brought you here”. I look into his void, my family’s faces disappear, only blackness, nothingness until a light shines. Suddenly I feel guilt, overwhelming guilt. This is it, the memory, the moment that lead to my death. The moment that lead me here.
I watch through horrified eyes at the lifeless bodies of my wife and daughter. Killed in the car accident I caused. “I was distracted!” I cry out. But the memory continues. Watching as I turn right without fully checking, distracted by my favorite song on the radio, by my daughter’s voice singing along to it. Then blackness fades as I loose consciousness, hit, T-boned by a semi-truck. The memory comes back with me being gurnied away by the paramedics. Begging to know if my family is okay, while I see them being zipped into body bags. The last time I ever got to see their beautiful faces. Then blackness again. Recovering in the hospital with ease physically, because somehow I left the wreck with some cuts and a fractured rib. But the guilt was overwhelming. I went to grief counseling, to therapy, to drinking. Nothing helped. Nights I’d lay away, haunted by that memory, by that scene. The booze helped me sleep but only because I’d pass out. Until finally I slipped the noose around my neck to join them. I survived a whole year in hell, in my own self torture. Racked by guilt, self loathing and self hatred. An accident, but it was still my fault.
“No..” I sob as I fall to my knees, the memories clear in my head. Quietly I weep to myself, bloody knees on the once again cold floor. The lights have dimmed and gone out now. Death stands from his throne and kneels beside me. “It was not your fault, being distracted is a lie you convinced yourself a long time ago. Surviors guilt they say. But that truck driver was high. He barreled into your car while you were safely stopped at a red light. The memories you saw just now were those that haunted you this whole time, but not the truth. Your untimely end however was real, and it brought you to me. Looking for them. Alas you cannot find them here, but you may rest with the memories of them, the happy and joyful ones. You’ll forget the loss and finally be at peace.” His voice soft and calming now. He extends his hand and I take it. Together we walk outside to see the vastness of his kingdom. And quietly we walk down the steps, now significantly shorter a trip. He guides me to my plot, my new home. Another resident of the kingdom of Death.
I cling to the mind with hooked talons. I dig in and guide their lives backwards, hindered and miserable. They know I am in complete control. They know they shouldn’t be so totally under my thumb, they know it’s irrational, and yet I win again and again. They think it is fear, but I am so much more. There is a sickness inside each one of them and I feed on their suffering. I manifest in different ways for each of them, sometimes similar but sometimes disturbingly unique. It’s almost funny how they rationalize me, almost as if they need me, or I make sense in their lives. I am a corrupted version of a natural emotion. And they feed me well, my gluttony knows no bounds however. I need more, I affect more while they try to “cure” me. But there is never really a cure, just learn to cope but continue to quietly feed me. They create interesting names for each fear I embrace within them; Acrophobia, Aracnophobia, Triscadecaphobia, the list feels endless. Endless just as I am, I evolve to embrace hate, feeding off other emotions and corrupting their minds. They may avoid whatever I so choose them to, starve themselves, hurt themselves. All for my enjoyment. I revel in their suffering and terror. Some have the pleasure of seeing my true face in their sleep. They awake unable to move, forced to gaze upon my forms. I am eternal. I am feeding off of someone you know, someone you love, and there is nothing you can do for them. They see and think exactly what I want them to. They are my puppets until I grow bored of them and throw them out with the trash. Disposable insects, existing to feed me. Pray you never experience my embrace, pray you never see my form. For you will know endless horrors, you will belong to me until I end you. Rejoice you don’t know me yet. But you all that do, those that know me. That have met me. Thanks for the meal.
My person is the best in the world. He feeds me the best meat all the time, and always lets me out to play and hunt the other people, usually female people that don’t seem to want to play. He makes sure I know its all just play and I’m always rewarded for a good play with fresh meat! Sometimes they cry and it feels real, but he always assures its all in good fun. His laughs when I catch them always make me feel so much better and he always tells me how good a job I’m doing. I am glad I don’t ever actually hurt them, its all just play and they go away. Sometimes I play a little bit too rough and they go limp, but he always says to them to stop acting and get ready for the real fun times they get to look forward to. I am jealous I never get to play those games, I always hear his laughing in the basement, but I’m not allowed down there. When my games are done his begin, I wonder what they do down there. I want to visit downstairs so badly, I may try and sneak down to watch his games sometime soon. They say curiousity killed the cat, but nothing about how it affects a dog, ha ha ha. Though I am scared, sometimes I hear the loud sounds of his tools, they always scare me when he uses them around the house. But I want to be brave and see my favorite person happy and playing. He always smiles so big when he carries my new friends downstairs and away from me. That smile always makes me feel so warm inside.
I’ve decided the next time I play that I’ll follow him downstairs, or at least try to. And he’s been saying tonight we should have a new friend visiting. I think its so exciting just how big his smile gets every time, he gets more excited for playtime than I ever think I could. I can’t help but wag my tail so hard ever time I hear his laugh and see his smile. I bet when its his turn to play with all of our friends, his smile is so big and bright! I’m very excited to see that for myself. My mind drifts and wanders thinking about what his games could even be. I mean the basement seems so small in comparison to the forest I chase and play with our friends. Maybe its tug-of-war, they always sound like they are struggling and I’ve seen him bring ropes downstairs before. It’s probably that, and I love playing tug-of-war so hopefully he’ll let me play too, he is really strong so I can’t imagine they ever have much chance and that can’t be too fun. But they must be so tired of losing at his games, they never come back around. I used to I miss certain ones, there’s been so many now it feels normal to not see them again. Maybe if I can join in, one of them will stay and play with me all the time! Having a new friend that sticks around sounds exciting!
Just like every game night, as he likes to call it, I swiftly catch her scent as he starts the same start to each game of hide and seek. She tends to beg like I do for dinner scrapes when the meat stockpile gets low. Then as soon as he takes off her leash they always run straight into the trees. I wait for his special words, “go get her” til “I’m bounding into the treeline behind her. They never get very far, I’m very fast and good at this game. I like to let them get away the first time so we can play longer. But I always find them too fast and excitement gets the best of me, I Always end up jumping on them and playfully biting them until my person can walk up to us and pat my head, he calls me a good boy and pats my head. Then he drags her to start his games. he always starts talking to them, but my heartbeat pounding in my ears always makes it hard to hear what he says. But down the stairs they go. This time I follow them close behind, I don’t think he noticed me. He was too excited for his game.
My first time down the stairs I can’t believe the toys he hides down here. All neatly hanging on the walls. He must cut up the meat for me here too because I can smell the old blood smell all around. I can’t help but feel my stomach growling at the scent. She begs him to not do this and I don’t know why, games are fun, but she isn’t smiling like I always pictured them to. But my person is so it must be okay. She’s probably just nervous to lose like she did to me. I mean I wouldn’t want to lose a game either. But then he does something shocking, he grabs one of the toys off the wall and it cuts her, I smell the fresh blood leaking out of her but she’s screaming much more intensely than any game I’ve played. It scares me, I didn’t think she would get actually hurt. These are just fun games after all. But the second cut feels even more wrong than the first and I can’t help but bark in protest. He noticed I followed and he ordered me back updstairs and to wait for dinner. But leaving her feels wrong for some reason. I stand my ground and another growl comes out. He approaches me, and he isn’t smiling anymore. She is crying on the floor holding her red arm and he’s walking at me, no smile to be seen. He actually looks angry with me so I whimper a bit but still can’t make myself do as he says. Next thing I know he hits me and I guess instinct takes over and I bite him. Not terribly hard, but I actually bit him! I feel awful but he hit me first!
I run over to the lady and stand between the two of the, growling. He pulls out a much bigger toy off the wall and points it at me. Driven by pure instinct I jump at him and bite his neck, I must have caught him off guard because he barely was able to defend. With a firm hold of his neck I tug a bit, tasting blood. But suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my side, followed by a warm wetness. I feel my person going limp as I continue to tug and tare, but I’m starting to feel sleepy myself. He hugs me as I drift to sleep on top of him, embraced my my favorite person in the world we both go to sleep.
Walls of dark surround me A sea of negativity Responsibility and obligation cloud happiness The world is filled with evil Greed, hate, lust Beaten down by reality I scream in silence My smile is a lie Fabricated to survive Every time to plead for help I’m met with empty apologies Only ever prescribed words, no treatment from friends or family Consume pills to numb myself from the world An empty bottle is my best friend I survived another day.
Blind dates, missed connections I’d given up on love or even friendship Then I meet you And my world changed Genuine conversation and care Positivity, a foreign concept, consumes me I fall asleep smiling as we say our good nights You are the warmth in an icy heart The Yang to my world of Yin You teach me to see beauty in the vast dark of the world Help me claw myself out of the grave I’ve dug myself into Ease the pain and hollowness
I vow myself to do the same for your Always To become your rock that weathers the storm Your ray of light in an overcast sky The person you can be vulnerable with Everything you’ve been for me
If I die tomorrow It will be a life well lived thanks to you You saved me Threw a Life preserver While I was drowning in my own self pity You saw me, flaws and all and accepted me Never tried to change me, simply taught me how to be a better version of myself
“Have you ever heard the story of the Blind Watcher?” Sally asks me with a playful yet menacing tone while we get our backpacks out of our lockers. “The Blind Watcher?” I reply confused but willing to play along with her little Halloween story. Sally smirks but tries to quickly hide it with a facade of seriousness. “Yes, you know they say he comes out the week before Halloween to pick his next list of victims. He stalks them in the shadows, or broad daylight. It doesn’t matter for only his chosen few will ever actually see him. Some say he’s a ghost, some say a demon, but what everyone that’s seen him agrees exactly how he looks. A tall figure, greyish blue in color. Almost as if he is a corpse risen from the morgue. His nose isn’t there, simply the hole of where it once sat. His eyes clouded over and grey, dead. He stands with a hunch and is a tall slender build. His toothy grin hidden by a wool scarf, his sunken features still clearly visible even with a heavy pitch dark overcoat, accented with an electric blue flower on the lapel. He’s said to stand outside his victim’s home in the pouring rain huddled under a large black umbrella, hands playfully clutching it as his blind, dead eyes stare towards the home.” I cut her off, “And how is a blind stalker supposed to be dangerous exactly?!” She does her best to hide her growing grin, clearly pleased that her story is getting under my skin. “Well he is a harbinger of death, his gaze causes untold amounts of rotten luck and accidents to start happening to the victims. Progressivly getting worse and more dangerous or painful. He causes horrible nightmares and hallucinations even. Until that unfortunate soul inevitably takes their own life.” I feel my skin shiver as goosebumps creep over my arms,”as if Sally! You’re just trying to scare me back after that Halloween prank I totally got you with last year!” I defensively spit out. “Just watch your back next week, he’ll be out there as Halloween approaches and his next lucky victim may just be…..YOU!” She yells that last word making me jump and fall back. “You jerk, I almost fell!” I say catching my balance. She finally loses all composure and busts up laughing, “God! You shoulda seen the look on your face!” She points and continues laughing. “You were about ready to piss yourself!” She continues. ‘Was not! I was just acting so you’d be all proud of your lame story!“ “Whatever you say you brave boy you” she teases. We finish getting our things together and start our walk home from school, stepping outside into the cool autumn air, leaves all shades of orange, red, brown and yellow. As we start our journey home down residential streets all decorated for Halloween Sally continues jabbing me with “Ooh I think I just saw him!” Or “What was that?!” And I can only playfully laugh at her, but for some reason I can’t shake the feeling we are actually being watched. The overcast sky slowly starts to darken with what could only be incoming rain and before we know it we are running the rest of the way home using our backpacks as shields from the rain. Laughing we run under the front patio roof of her home, “see you tomorrow!” She yells as I start walking down her driveway “Unless the blind watcher gets ya!”. Ignoring her joke I shout back “see you tomorrow!”. I start walking home from Sally’s, its only about five minutes away. Her and I have been best friends our entire lives, our parents were always good friends and we were practically raised together. As I head down the street, trying to use the trees as cover I notice a dark figure in the corner of my eye. As I turn to look across the street where I could have sworn I saw it, I’m greeted only to heavy rain on an empty sidewalk.
John is awoken by a hard scratching sound from the basement again. “Every night for a week straight, I swear this sound will drive me mad. It’s time to finally man up like Dad would say and ghost down there.” John speaks quietly under his breath as if psyching himself up, but trying to not wake his still sleeping wife. John blindly grabs the oil lantern and matches on the side table and leaves the bedroom before striking a match and lighting the light, making sure to keep the shutters mostly closed so as to be as stealth as possible. His footsteps are light and the only sound is the gentle scratch of his slippers on the hardwood floor, and his nervous breathing. After heading down the hallway, then the staircase, cold but comfortable, he pauses to listen. Scratch, scratch, scratch, he hears clear as day muffled only by distance down the stairs and the old basement door. “Now or never’ he whispers to himself as he descends the stairs towards the kitchen. He looks into the dark kitchen, signs of his wife’s cooking from dinner earlier still linger, he swears he can still smell the roast she surprised him with, briefly distracting him from the mission at hand. He slowly approaches the basement door after shaking his reminiscing of the warm and lovely night he had with her. He hesitates as he reaches for the basement doorknob. Slowly turning the brass knob he tries to avoided that blasted squeak the door always makes. “I really need to fix the squeaking” he thinks trying to distract himself further from his nerves. But he is quickly brought back to reality by the scratching, so loud he flinches. A sudden burst of bravery overtakes him as he swings the door open. The squeaking hinges barely audible over the relentless scratching. He opens the lantern shutters more to illuminate the dark basement stairs. A sudden wave of icy air greets him ,”I hate how cold it is down here” he can’t help but to think as he calls out, “Who is down here?! I’m armed so let yourself be known now!” He bluffs. The scratching suddenly stops and the silence can only unnerve him further. He begins down the stairs, more vigilant than he’s ever been in his life. Suddenly a massive figure runs to confront him at the bottom of the stairs. His beam of light reveals a massive rat nearly the size of a teenager, and John can’t help but to let out a blood curdling scream as the rat leaps to him with unbelievable speed. It’s yellowed teeth sink deep into his cowering arms and he can only think of the danger he’s just put himself and his family in.
Harrison, Timothy please head to the next stage of the examination, a stoic agent says not looking up from her clipboard. He gets out of his seat with his first test in hand, “Where should I turn this one in?” He asks nerves on full blast. “You can leave it with me, but don’t keep the board waiting this is your practical exam.” She says extending a hand still refusing to look up from her clipboard. Timothy quickly hands in test and heads through the heavy wooden door, before him is a table with various bloody instruments, clearly makeshift weapons of common household items. A single stage light focuses all attention to the table and a bound man with a bag over his face, clearly unconscious. From somewhere over a loud speaker he hears a booming and powerful voice ,”choose whatever tools you’d like on that table or around the room, demonstrate your abilities to incapacitate and eliminate your target, a buzzer sounds as the metal restraints unlock from the man as he quickly tears his hood off his face. He blindly charges Tim and all Tim can think before acting on pure instinct is how this is his opportunity to solidify his position as an agent. Grabbing what could only be a table leg Tim swings wildly at the mans head, but is met with a swift duck and a hard punch to the jaw. Spun by the attack Tim realizes this won’t be such an easy task.
The sound of the speed boats combing the lake rattled me back to my senses. Five bodies so far have been discovered at the bottom of the lake, all with signs of recent decomposition. “I got another two bodies down here!” Shouts one of the diving team. Seven fucking bodies now, what kind of a monster came to this little town?! I stand with the coroner while he examines the first two bodies we brought up from the depths, “Can you tell COD yet?” I ask almost impatiently. I hate this part, standing around waiting for evidence to cling to and start following any lead the evidence unearths. “I won’t know what actually killed them until we get back to the lab, but it absolutely was foul play, you can see obvious signs of bludgeoning and stab wounds hidden under the clothes. The state of decomp unfortunately makes time of death rather recent, can’t determine exactly when until later, but if they are all in this state, the was a mass killing, one after the other likely”. “Jesus, seven vicious murders all under our noses and zero leads so far, no witnesses except that one hobbiest diver that discovered the first two bodies”.
I approach the diver knowing he doesn’t know a damn thing about this but protocol and hope guide me. I need some small bite to hook into and follow. “Mr. Evans? I’m Detective Green, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” “I suppose so, but I don’t know anything, and I already told the other officers everything I know.” Mr. Evans says trying to keep himself calm and collected. “Thank you Mr.Evans” I start. “Please just call me Jeff.” “Of course Jeff, so can you tell me how you came across the first bodies?” I ask as I pull out my notebook, reviewing his response to the report he already submitted. “As I told the other officer, I came to do some amature treasure hunting, you know, looking for stuff people lose off their boats or whatever. You can pawn some of that stuff for a pretty penny sometimes, usually I just find some trash and I try to clean it up as I can while I’m down there ya know?” “Do you do this often?” I ask not looking up from my notes. “The occasional weekend I’ll come out here and dive and fish, just escape for a bit, I got a family and sometimes a man just needs a break, ya know?” He replies with sincerity. “I get that Jeff, got a wife and newborn myself. But could you be a bit more specific? How many times a month would you estimate you come here?” I look up from the notes to show my understanding of his explaimntion. “Probably once a month, twice if I can manage.” He quickly replies with an honest politeness, “I’m sorry, I wish I could be more helpful, but I didn’t see anything strange at all, drove up here early, sun was up by the time I parked just up the road at the dock. Got right in the water and after finding a knock off Rolex I realized it was attached to a wrist, a human fucking wrist!” He exclaims progressively getting more worked up as I’m certain he’s reliving that trauma of finding not one but two human corpses. “Thank you Jeff, that’s really helpful” I interrupt and put a hand on his shoulder, “its okay, you don’t need to continue. You left your context info with the other officers so we will reach out if we need anything else. Thank you again Jeff” I shake his hand and turn to head back to the coroner. “Wait!” Jeff yells and runs to catch up to me. “Yes, what is it Jeff?” “I just remembered something, there was a boat docked, I thought nothing of it, I mean people leave their boats docked here all the time, I do even. But” he points up towards the dock, “it isn’t there anymore, and I haven’t left anywhere besides going underwater.”. “can you describe this boat?” I ask feeling the first bit of real hope in this case begin to flood over me. “It was pretty unremarkable, grey or faded black maybe, white stripes. Looked pretty beat up and old, not really cared for a whole lot. That’s really all I can remember about it” Jeff says alm,ost rushed so as to not lose the mental picture. “Thank you Jeff, this is a bigger help than you know” I say shaking his hand with much more vigor.