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CONTINUE!

So lets take the bike or the horse or whatever for the next destination for the l
ast journey. Lets be incredible and memorable, lets this book to start at 15 and t
o 16 years old. This to be the age, so how far the book goes the story will be t
he same, the years will be the same and it will be like stuck in time. So this j
ourney will be very useful one!

As whole
"Negative mindsets can really destroy a person. So I ll try to stay positive in
all kinds of situation."
How To Stop Negative Thinking: 6 Ways To Fine-Tune Your Mind

BY LEWIS HUMPHRIES

If you are prone to negative thinking, you may feel as though this is an innate
quality which will impact on you throughout your life. It is this misconception
that drags many people down in their lives, as they allow negative thoughts to c
onsume them and overwhelm their mind-set.
In fact, negative thinking is a habit that can be challenged and changed through
knowledge, strategy and behaviour. As we understand the cause of our negativity
and change the way in which we perceive situations, we can develop a more posit
ive outlook that delivers huge rewards in our personal and professional lives!
6 ways in which you can stop negative thinking
So, here are six simple and actionable ways in which you can stop negative think
ing and develop more positive behavioural habits:
1. Develop a consistent sleeping cycle
Negative thinking is a symptom of depression, and as such it is often exacerbate
d by a lack of sleep or an irregular sleeping cycle. The link between negativity
, depression and sleep deprivation has been explored at length during numerous s
cientific studies, including the 2005 Sleep in America pools which discovered th
at subjects diagnosed with depression or anxiety were more likely to sleep less
than six hours each night.
To negate this and ensure that you are well-rested, you should commit to develop
ing a healthy and sustainable sleep cycle over a prolonged period of time. This
must enable you to achieve a full eight-hour sleep every evening, so create a ro

utine based on the time that you need to rise for work in the morning.
2. Write down your Negative Thoughts in a Journal
The issue with negative thoughts is that they are usually formless and ambiguous
in our minds, making them hard to quantify or resolve through verbal reasoning.
They can also hide the real source of our angst, so it is important that we are
able to process these thoughts and understand their various triggers.
The best way to achieve this is to write down your negative thoughts in a journa
l, translating them into words and affording them actual meanings. Start by reco
rding your thoughts quickly and directly, as you focus on expressing yourself ra
ther than attempting to phrase your thoughts logically. Once they have been comm
itted to paper, you can then begin to review them and identify specific triggers
or common themes.
This process also helps you to develop the habit of expressing your thoughts in
an open manner, making it easier to manage relationships and resolve inter-perso
nal issues.
3. Stop thinking in extremes
Life is far from black and white, and those of a rational mind-set are able to f
actor this into their everyday thought processes. The same cannot be said for th
ose who are prone to negative thinking, however, as these individuals tend to th
ink in extremes and imagine the worst case scenarios when they are faced with a
problem.
Unfortunately, this prevents you from embracing the subtle nuances of life and c
onsidering the positives that can be drawn from any situation.
In this respect, the key to challenging a negative mind-set does not lie in cont
riving a forced and completely positive mind-set. Instead, you should consider t
he various positive and negative possibilities that exist within any given scena
rio, committing these to paper and creating a list that can guide your thought p
rocesses. This will instantly afford your brain viable alternatives to the extre
me negative, without forcing you to suddenly alter your mind-set in a moment.
4. Deal with facts and stop mind-reading
On a similar note, negative thinking also makes you incapable of dealing with an
y kinds of uncertainty. So when you are placed in a stressful or unfamiliar situ
ation that has a potentially negative outcome, you have a tendency to pre-empt c
ertain events and apply meanings to them without any significant facts. This can
be described as mind-reading, and it is only likely to foster further negativit
y.
This can be easily resolved with a change in behaviour, as you look to gather fa
cts and details relating to the situation and use these to make an informed judg
ement. The key is to start with a scenario and state all of the logical explanat
ions in order of their relevance, using either a pen and paper or verbal reasoni
ng. If a friend has not replied to a text immediately, for example, this could b
e due to a number of reasons such as their battery dying, their presence in a me
eting at work or the fact that their handset is on silent and the message has no
t been read.
By listing these realistic explanations, you can avoid the temptation to pre-emp
t negative outcomes and react impulsively. Over time, experience will also teach
you that logical and reasonable explanations are usually more likely than the w
orst-case scenarios which play on your mind.
5. Accentuate the positive and embrace it when it does happen
One of the main issues with negative thinking is that it clouds your judgement a

t all times, even when a scenario ends with a positive outcome. This can either
cause you to minimise the positive outcome and the impact that it has in your mi
nd or prevent you from seeing any positivity at all.
Lets say that you are afforded a pay-rise at work, for example, but one that is l
ower than some of your colleagues. Instead of focusing solely on this single neg
ative element, it is far better to celebrate the offer of a pay-rise in the firs
t instance and recognise the fact that there are others who have received less.
This introduces perspective to any situation and provides definitive facts to co
ntrast your negative thoughts.
Perception is the key here, as you look to view negative occurrences as temporar
y and specific rather than permanent and pervasive. Instantly look to balance a
negative thought or observation with a contrasting positive, as this will enable
you to get into the habit of developing a far greater sense of perspective.
6. Re-frame your circumstances and actively seek out positives
While there are scenarios that clearly deliver both positive and negative effect
s, there are others that may be instantly perceived as being wholly negative. Th
is is the worst nightmare for anyone who is prone to negative thinking, as they
are presented with a situation which feeds their pessimistic mind-set and offers
no immediate hope of resolution.
You may be at an airport when your flight is delayed, for example, which is a ne
gative scenario that forces you to panic and consider a number of opportunities
that you may be missing out on.
The way to resolve this is to actively seek out positives, initially by re-frami
ng the circumstances and reconsidering a perceived problem as a potential opport
unity. So rather then focusing on what you may be missing out on, why not list t
he other things that you can achieve while waiting for your flight? Whether you
complete work tasks or enjoy some relaxed retail therapy, the key is to distract
yourself from negative thoughts by searching for positive resolutions and optim
ising your time.

10 Signs Youre Exceptionally Smart Though You Dont Appear To Be


by VLADIMIR ZIVANOVIC
You could say that there plenty of not-so-bright people walking around, but its n
ot that there are so many of them, its just that they are usually the loudest. Th
ere are a lot of extremely intelligent people out there, but they simply dont adv
ertise the fact that they are smart. It comes natural to them, and they try to l
ive their lives freely and without consciously drawing attention to themselves.
You can call it modesty or plain old good manners, but these people tend to look
and sound quite average, until they surprise you with a gem of wisdom. Here are
some of the tell-tale signs that you might be one smart cookie, without appeari
ng so.
1. Youre a night owl
Internet Addiction
As recent research suggests, those who prefer to stay up late, and do their best
work at night, average higher IQ scores than morning people. That being said, s
taying up late wont magically hack your brain into being smarter smarter people a
re just more likely to work and party during the night, and sleep in. While all
your friends are fast asleep, you are browsing the web for information, reading,

learning to play the guitar and finishing up different projects since this happ
ens behind the scenes, your knowledge and skills will often be a surprise to peo
ple.
2. Youre the silent type
Youll find plenty of misconceptions about quiet people, e.g. being labeled as int
roverts, socially awkward and so on. This isnt necessarily true, and while not al
l quiet people are necessarily smart, highly intelligent people will often refra
in from speaking if they are accessing a situation. They will take some time to
think about what was said and prepare an adequate response, and they find silenc
e better than pointless small talk.
3. You face your problems
You may find yourself faced with a bunch of difficult problems, but a smart pers
on wont let that bring them down. A very smart person will know how to prioritize
and deal with problems as they arise, before things even get a chance to start
spinning out of control. If you are the type of person who faces problems and we
lcomes challenges, always dancing on the age of your comfort zone, chances are t
hat you are fairly intelligent.
4. You hang out with smart and creative people
The company you keep is a good reflection of who you are as a person. Exceptiona
lly smart people will tend to hang out with people like them, i.e. smart, creati
ve and cultured. There are always some exceptions, but if about 80% of the peopl
e in your life are intelligent and interesting, you probably fit that descriptio
n as well.
5. You strive for perfection
Perfectionist
There might not be anything that hints at great intelligence in your appearance
or speech, the way you conduct yourself is an excellent indicator. Intelligent p
eople always strive for perfection, so each time you see them youll be able to no
tice a few small improvements. They are always a bit different than before. This
perfectionist mentality is applied to all aspects of life, from trying to look
their best or working on being a great speaker, to spending hours practicing the
ir golf swing or dart throw.
6. You tend to be quite self-critical
There are plenty of narcissists out there who sometimes lie to themselves and ot
hers about how good they are at something, so its a breath of fresh air to see so
meone being self-critical and accepting critique. Although someone might not be
actively trying to impress and come off as smart, the ability to acknowledge ones
own faults and the willingness to work on correcting them can give their intell
igence away.
7. You like to stay informed
Intelligent people like to be up to date with the latest development in a number
of different fields, always trying to improve themselves bit by bit. A smart pe
rson will stay up to date with local and global news, as well as try to learn al
l he or she can about topics that are directly related to their life or are inte
resting to them. Gathering information, learning new things and developing usefu
l skills is a lifelong goal for highly intelligent people, and they will always
have a way of keeping themselves busy.
8. Youre constantly occupied with tons of different projects
Speaking of keeping busy, a good indicator that you are dealing with a very smar
t person is the fact that they always have a few projects that they are working
on. They might be brushing up on their French and learning a few useful Mandarin
phrases, reading up on DIY home repairs, taking dancing lessons, working on som

e new recipes in the kitchen, or compiling a book on early medieval architecture


. While a lot of people like to keep busy, a smart person will fill their free t
ime with activities that help them improve in one way or another. Not all smart
people are very productive, but it can be a good indicator of higher intellect.
9. You ask all the right questions
Questions
When talking to a smart person who doesnt blow his or her own horn, youll notice t
hat they dont try to hijack the conversation or start long monologues. They will
actually sit there quietly and listen to what you have to say, allowing for a fe
w moments of silence here and there as they think things over. However, once the
y ask a question it really hits the spot. They actually give helpful advice or e
ven get you to come to the right conclusions on your own. If your friends enjoy
talking to you and tell you that you are a good listener, you are probably a goo
d friend, and an intelligent one at that.
10. You dont think that you are exceptionally smart
Due to something called the Dunning-Kruger effect people with a low level of com
petence will tend to overestimate their abilities, whereas highly competent peop
le will tend to sell themselves short. This is due to the fact that the more int
elligent, informed and skilled you are, the more you realize just how much space
there is to further improve and you are not satisfied with your current knowled
ge or skill level.
True intelligence cannot really be hidden away or masked effectively, nor is thi
s the point of exceptionally smart people who appear seemingly normal. They wear
their intelligence proudly, but they dont flaunt it, although these ten signs ar
e a dead giveaway.

Science Explains How Camping For A Week Can Largely Change Your Productivity
by JAY HILL

Camping More Than Just A Vacation Option!


Millions of us make camping trips each year, usually as a way of escaping the st
resses of daily life and having fun with family and friends. However, camping is
nt just a fabulous way to spend your vacation time. Research has demonstrated tha
t switching your routine and aligning yourself more closely with nature can help
you get into the habit of keeping regular, healthier sleeping hours and boost y
our productivity as a result.
How Camping Helps Improve Your Sleep Pattern
Have you ever noticed that when you camp, you feel more inclined to rise early i
n the mornings? Camping allows us to get back in touch with the world around us,
reset our body clocks and help us face each new day with renewed energy and pur
pose. Many of us have an unnatural sleep pattern because we expose our bodies to
lots of artificial light. As a result, instead of waking up with the sunrise an
d feeling sleepy as the sun sets, we manipulate our bodies into an artificial sl
eep schedule that can leave us feeling tired and lethargic in the mornings.
Research published by Kenneth Wright and colleagues in the journal Current Biolog
y found that abstaining from artificial light sources for a week helps even those
who consider themselves to be night owls to get up early in the morning as the su
n rises. Volunteers took a camping trip and gave up all exposure to manmade ligh
t sources, including torches. This forced them to sleep in accordance with natur
es rhythms, and within days they had begun to wake naturally at sunrise. Just ima
gine what you could get done and how much more efficient you could become at wor
k if you started to awaken naturally in the early morning!
Rise Early, Be Productive
This research has exciting implications, because studies have shown that rising
early in the morning is associated with greater productivity. Jens Bonke from th
e Rockwool Foundation Research Unit published a paper in the Annals of Economics
and Statistics demonstrating that those who find it easier to get up early in t
he morning or to describe themselves as morning people tend to earn more money tha
n those who prefer to get up later. He suggests that because western society is
set up to favour, encourage and reward those who work eagerly from the start of
the working day rather than wait until the afternoon or evening to pick up momen
tum, morning people enjoy greater overall success, greater productivity and ultima
tely earn more compared with those who prefer to go to bed late and start their
most intense work mid-morning or later.
Additional Benefits
If you suffer with insomnia, a camping trip free from all artificial light sourc
es could be just what you need in order to get into a healthier sleep-wake cycle
. Research by Susan Bolge and colleagues published in the journal Quality of Life
Research demonstrates that a lack of high-quality sleep significantly impairs no
t only life satisfaction in general, but on work productivity. Therefore, if you
find it difficult to get enough sleep and feel as though your job performance i
s suffering as a result, try cutting down on artificial light and spend a few da
ys in nature!
The next time you feel the need to take a trip away, consider packing a tent rat
her than picking out a hotel. Not only is it generally a cheaper option, but you
could enjoy the benefits of your vacation long after you return. If you cant fin
d the time to take a whole week off, a couple of days or a long weekend is still
better than nothing and offers you other benefits too such as fresh and the opp
ortunity to relax in a natural setting.
5 Ways Forgiveness Can Benefit Your Life
HEALTH LIFESTYLE BY AMANDA RICHARDSON
Take a moment and ask yourself what are you holding onto? Its a question we dont
often stop to consider but we should, because too many of us are shouldering ang

er or resentment, a slight that we just never got over. And its apparent in our s
tress levels and health. Simply put, its hurting us.
It doesnt have to be like this. We can help to stop the damage with a single act.
We can forgive.
Too often we hold onto unpleasant memories long
to forgive. After all, who can forget that girl
fe miserable? Or that boss who passed them over
served? A father who maybe wasnt there when he

after we should because its hard


in high school who made their li
for a job promotion that they de
should have been?

But ask yourself what are these memories doing to you? How are they affecting yo
ur body and health? As Dr. Karen Swartz stated, There is an enormous physical bur
den to being hurt and disappointed.
Forgiveness may be difficult, but its positive effects on our physical and menta
l health are mounting. And it can be cultivated through practice. Need reasons t
o give it a try? Here are five that you can check on.
1. It reduces stress and stress-related disorders.
Research has repeatedly shown the negative impact of stress on our health. But e
vidence is accumulating on the positive role forgiveness can play in disrupting
this cycle.
For example, a recent study of 338 adults showed that greater forgiveness was as
sociated over time with less stress and, as a consequence, better mental health.
Another study by the same author found that forgiveness caused the relationshi
p between stress and mental illness to disappear. In a recent interview, the lea
d researcher stated that If you dont have forgiving tendencies, you feel the raw e
ffects of stress in an unmitigated way. You dont have a buffer against that stres
s.
Given the immense problem of stress in our society, forgiveness may be one way t
o reduce its impact and help out our health in the process.
2. It can lower depression.
Carrying around unresolved anger, pain, and resentment can take a toll on our me
ntal health. Research suggests that forgiveness therapy, which is intended to fost
er forgiveness, can be helpful in alleviating depression.
Forgiveness of oneself is also helpful in reducing depression, as an earlier stu
dy also reported that self-forgiveness decreased depression and, consequently, a
lso reduced the rates of suicide. Considering forgiveness as a two-sided process
one aimed at forgiving others and another at forgiving yourself may help bolste
r mood and emotional health.
3. It protects your heart.
We feel this both physically and metaphorically. Numerous studies have found tha
t forgiveness lowers blood pressure, and a recent one showed that it also improv
ed a marker of coronary perfusion.
Forgiveness can help prevent damage to the heart but also reduce problematic sym
ptoms in those with heart disease. One study analyzed individuals with coronary
artery disease who experienced anger-recall induced changes in myocardial perfus
ion. They divided subjects into two groups a control and a forgiveness group. Not
surprisingly, they found that those in the forgiveness group showed decreased a
nger-recall induced myocardial perfusion defects. In other words, the function o
f their heart improved. And, of course, no data can quantify the effect on ones h
eart when we release the burden of anger.

4. It can strengthen relationships.


Even the best of relationships can suffer from miscommunication, perceived sligh
ts, and insult. We can hold this close to us, vowing never to forget, but that d
oes nothing to allow a relationship to grow. Furthermore, it is likely to skew o
ur perspective of the others intentions and feelings towards us. What starts as s
omething small can then snowball into a much bigger problem.
Rather, learning to forgive and even understand anothers viewpoint can foster the
growth of a relationship. For example, a study found that forgiveness was the o
ne variable that predicted growth following an infidelity. Forgiveness is crucia
l to letting go and moving forward.
5. It can help you reach your potential.
We all have dreams and aspirations but are often quick to beat ourselves up for
the poor choices we made, the missteps we took, and the people we naively truste
d. And too often we dont forgive ourselves for our perceived wrong-doings. This b
ecomes a heavy weight to carry. It colors our trust in ourselves, confidence in
our abilities, and belief in our future. It can materialize as depression and an
xiety, low self-worth, and an unwillingness to take risks and put ourselves out
there.
If we dont practice self-forgiveness, we may limit our potential. We may undercut
our abilities and second-guess our decisions. We may never summon the courage t
o do what we really dream of doing. We may never give the world the unique gifts
we have to offer.
Forgiveness is healing for our body and mind. If we all were to dedicate ourselv
es to cultivating it, the world might be a much better place.
3 Small Businesses You Can Jumpstart Right Now
Many people dream of quitting the 9-to-5 grind to start their own business. Succ
ess as an entrepreneur can mean a life of financial independence and freedom. Bu
t with all the added responsibilities of having to juggle kids and family, payin
g household bills, and not to mention the massive start-up costs involved, many
are left dreaming from the sidelines.
Im not going to pretend that starting a business is easy or cheap, but there are
cost-effective measures to jumpstarting a small business without breaking the ba
nk. Here are three small business ideas you can start right now.
1. In-home tutoring business.
If youre passionate about education and love to be around kids, why not start a t
utoring service in your community. There are plenty of parents looking for knowl
edgeable and affordable tutors to teach their children after school.
Related: 12 Low-Cost Business Ideas for Introverts
In fact, one of the first businesses I started was a math tutoring company in Ne
w York City. In addition to inspiring young kids to learn math and science, I wa
s able to help struggling college grads pay off their student debts with good pa
ying tutoring jobs. If youre looking to make a real positive impact in your commu
nity, then this is definitely a great business to start.
When beginning a tutoring business, you should try to recruit tutors at your loc
al university campuses. To gain new customers, you can leave fliers outlining yo
ur tutoring services at nearby libraries, preschools, doctor offices, public sch
ools and any other family-oriented places you can find. Make sure to also attend

local school events and network with community leaders to build your reputation
.
2. Ecommerce retail store.
Retail sales for ecommerce have been growing steadily year-by-year, while tradit
ional retail has faltered. In a recent article by the Wall Street Journal, onlin
e retailers were found to be the overall drivers for retail sales for more than
a year, while traditional department store sales declined.
So what does this mean for entrepreneurs? It means the playing field is leveling
out, and there is a growing opportunity for small online niche brands to break
into the competitive retail scene. As a manager at a digital marketing agency, Iv
e seen a considerable amount of capital poring into new ecommerce startups.
Its now easier than ever to import products from overseas and sell them online. E
ver heard of Alibaba or Aliexpress? If you havent, they are the largest wholesale
marketplaces on the internet. You can order custom goods securely on your compu
ter and have them shipped free from China straight to your doorstep. Wish, one o
f the latest retail startups, is using a similar business model, but in the mobi
le commerce arena.
With the vast number of unique items available, you can virtually start any onli
ne retail business selling smartphone accessories, handbags, fashion jewelry sho
es, clothing apparel -- the list goes on.
Related: The 6 Best Ecommerce Platforms for Small Businesses
3. Maid cleaning service.
This was actually a business I was interested in starting, but I eventually back
ed out after too many cleaning startups began raising overvalued evaluations. I
hate to sound like Donald Trump here, but the market for cleaning services is hu
ge.
Yes, the margins in this sector are razor thin, and the field is filled with ple
nty of competition to go around. However, the demand for cleaning services is st
ill high and cash flows are relatively consistent. Think about it for a minute.
Both households and businesses are in constant need of weekly cleaning services,
and that can translate into generous customer-retention rates.
Although most of the current venture startups in this market are racing to becom
e the next Uber of Cleaning, there are still opportunities for local cleaning busi
nesses to carve out a small slice in this overwhelming market. Believe it or not
, small businesses do have surprising advantages over well-financed startups. Ca
ll it a story of David and Goliath.
To jumpstart a local cleaning business, its important to recruit only experienced
cleaning staff. Most freelance cleaning maids are hard-working immigrants who w
ould be more than happy to join a company for a modest and consistent paycheck.
Although competition for cleaning services is stiff, there are still ways to adv
ertise on a low budget. To gain customer traction, target middle-class to wealth
y residential neighborhoods in your local area and leave your discount fliers on
every doorstep.
Related: 10 Businesses You Can Start From Your Dorm Room
A second source of strategic revenue is to provide small businesses with cleanin
g services. Doctor offices, salons, preschools and tutoring centers are all exam
ples of local businesses that can benefit from such a service. If you manage to
sign a commercial building, then youve hit the jackpot. The most effective method

to gain new business clients is by cold calling. Simply call a neighborhood bus
iness -- preferably right before closing time -- and ask if they might be intere
sted in outsourcing their cleaning services to your company.
As you continually gain new customers, you will slowly receive referrals and, be
fore you know it, your small business will be booming.
These 2 Hidden Habits Will Hinder Your Success!
LIFESTYLE BY KIRSTIN ODONOVAN
I remember when I first started working for myself and one of the things that I
realized very quickly was I had many habits that just werent friends of success.
When you break away on your own you may realize, your time is now yours and ever
ything you do from here is going be what you get back!
It became very obvious that if I was going to work for myself, I had to change a
few things. Its clear that the extent of success is the ratio of good and bad ha
bits you have in life. It was an easy way to double check if I was headed in the
right direction. It sparked a deep desire I had to learn all I could about habi
ts, how to create, break, and change them!
It led me down the world of discovery, how we as humans are made up of so many h
abits, smaller ones, bigger ones, dangerous, harmless and weird and why we form
them.
The truth is that we are constantly looking to create a habit out of anything we
do; it is the way our mind is wired. So we need to be very aware of the habits
we decide to take on, because remember that we have so many types, you might no
t even realize you are harming your results. We have obvious habits and we also
have underlying hidden habits that undermine our success, confidence and happin
ess every time.
Working with many clients for different challenges there always seems to be one
sore point that creates it all: a lack of confidence. This slowly poisons the m
ind and your results, and many people cant understand why they feel so bad about
themselves. Confidence and habits feed off each other.
Here are the two hidden habits that will hinder your success:
Not following through on your word
Not being congruent with yourself.
What does that even mean?
Not following through on your word:
Think about the last time a friend, family, colleague or loved one let you down,
they said they were going to do something and they didnt.
How do you feel about other people when they dont follow through on their word? W
hat do you think you are thinking about yourself then?
When you say you are going to do something and then you follow through on your w
ord and you do it whether it is waking up at 6:00am, picking up that phone or do
ing that favor for a friend, you build your confidence. You stick to your word;
you respect your promises.
Every time you say you are going to do something and you dont, you lower your con
fidence, without even realizing!
Setting goals and not following through or taking action. Promising yourself you
will do something and you just dont.

Ask yourself honestly: How many things to do you say to you yourself that you ar
e going to do and you never take action on? How many times have you set yourself
a small goal, but then not risen to the challenge?
Success requires staying true to your word, being authentic. To everybody, but e
specially yourself!
If you know you are going to find it difficult to follow through on something, a
djust the commitment. Be careful, confidence is a key ingredient to having succ
ess in any area of life; so dont sabotage yourself indirectly with false words an
d commitments.
Habitually not being congruent with yourself:
Everyone wonders what is the key to achieving goals and what you want in life an
d its almost impossible to reduce it to a set formula, but if we had to, I think
it would look something like this:
Setting the right goals, with the right actions and habits, with the right minds
et consistently.
If any part of this equation is out of alignment, you will find it hard to reach
the goal! That is the story for most people. If you have the right goals, and y
ou take the strategic actions to reach it but your mindset is not aligned, guess
what, you will find it hard to reach your goal. And vice versa.
What comes up is a lot of incongruences and therefore mixed results. Your habitu
al way of doing things isnt working.
Lets say that you lack confidence in doing something, but you really want to do i
t because you know it will be good for business. Because you lack confidence in
that area, you take actions from a place of being less confident, because that i
s how you feel, it might even start to become a habit. By being less confident y
ou are being congruent with your limited belief about how you think you are and
of course, you are going to feel horrible about yourself.
But it is double-sided, there is also another part of you that knows you can be
confident in doing that thing, and so when you find yourself listening to your l
ess confident voice, you feel horrible too because you are not being congruent w
ith the part of you that knows you can be confident.
So its like a vicious circle you dont even know you are playing in.
What are the most important take aways?
Watch out for actions and mindset beliefs that are incongruent and become habits
its an immediate block to results! If you are not getting the results you want
where are you not being congruent? What part of your goals, habits and your mind
set is not aligned?
Dont make promises and commitments you wont follow through on not matter how small
they may seem! And vice versa; if you want to build confidence every day; set
yourself an intention and take action on it and you will feel amazing!!
Remember that you might be blind to your biggest areas of growth and harming you
r results unwillingly.
Change your story around today! Live by your own words and be congruent with who
you know you can be!

#Book
1. The ABCs of Success: The Essential Principles from America s Greatest Prosper
ity Teacher
(It s sometimes sad when you finish a book, you start and you look how long it w
ill take. It s one long
book... as always such thoughts come in your moment, yesterday still reading and
the privous day and now one moment you just finish it. I won t lie, I hate to r
epeat something which I have recently check out even I have check it out and aga
in to do it... it s like listening to the same music again and again... you don
t do it?
You listen to Dubstep, Chillstep and to rap and some other types but you don t r
epeat them again and again. Probably once, twice okay third for luck it s okay.
But from where have you taken the "Luck"? As Sherlock Holmes says in "Elementary
", luck is for idiots. So you get it!
As far in this book were repeated and materials which I have already check out f
rom the Bob Proctor channel and some other channels so it was kind a interesting
to revise something which I have forgotten and to have access to all stuff in o
ne place. Like a collection!
So well made, a lot of stuff shared about interesting topics from which that far
I have searched and books for deeper looking some topics like success like auth
ors like Earl Nightingale, Napoleon Hill and many others. I m glad that in the s
ame time I found stuff which build me some kind of confidence, I get some kind a
knowledge and even I had a chance to meet and with some other interesting autho
rs, people and films which I have watched and are used as an example. - That far
well made!
Without knowing Bob Proctor just from the book I learn a lot of stuff about him
+ from the youtube videos a lot of I just learn for a Canadian person who I have
never met and even talk. He just made me to look deeper in his stuff, he is one
interesting guy like using as an example "The Matrix" - wow that s one of my fa
vourite movies. And many other kind of stuff, if somebody is knew and don t know
Bob Proctor here you can meet him in all his colours there are some revises mad
e in the audiobook so you can had the chance to listen to him in about 2 days or
one day all day. To his voice and to think freely.)
2. Riding the Bullet

by Stephen King
( Pretty interesting film, one well made story. There are a lot of twist every t
wist have twist... wow that s awesome as far as I can tell. One moment there and
there... then you see that you are dreaming then somebody is after you... then
again you are dreaming wow, wow incredible... from world to other world without
any limitation. incredible ending, such books and works should be made year afte
r year, that s one awesome story ending suprising. Choices which are hard to be
made and even re-thinking about death... to think about death. It s incredible!)
3. The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games #1)
by Suzanne Collins
(I have read and better books than that it s like American soap this film. The m
usic in the film is boring, after all the film isn t interesting and the story a
s far as from the film is again boring... So not big deal!
There are a lot of authors men and women but men is very different writes better
stories than the women. As far from here I only jump in such kind of authors li
ke Suzanne Collins very borring as work is Hunger Games. I thought something mor
e it can be saw but it went in the sea not under and to see the secrets which ar
en t solved.... but somewhere above the sea... in other words in the air. Everyo
ne knows the air not interesting, of couse somebody work hard on it.)
4. Ring (Ring #1)
by Kji Suzuki
(As far from the film, the film should be fixed this with the light is horrible.
Even when I m near to the screen and watching the movie I still can t see some
pictures they are like blur even near to streched. That s horrible to can t see
the favourite stuff of your characters, when somebody is afraid it s awesome to
look his face, his body and everything. It s just incredible, on this part shoul
d be paid attention. However, I never thought that Japan writer will write such
a incredible novel. So that far for Japan writer and for a nation for which I re
ally don t watch their stuff, that far with American made wow, wow that s really
well far. From here I can see that he is somewhere on the top, and that is very
good. So at first Kji Suzuki, well made novel keep it up and Bravo!
As far from the story, I
not. That s really fine,
rmal the right is horror
let s put it.
Some people tell me that
hat it s based on novel.
u enjoy this category.

really enjoyed some scary moments, then not again then


so If I must judge the novel by a line the middle is no
and the left is some kind a place which is not normal this story is scary, most of them doesn t really know t
The story is counted as a horror, but the type which yo

I like how the first goes in the unknown, you think that you know what this pers
on wants..., but then "boom" and what?? You really don t know what he really wan
ts. A story based on true facts and pretty interesting story from which is build
that, some kind a fantasy and horror. They are like the door and key. The door
is horror, whatever to put as horror which is not fantasy is flat with fantasy y
ou open the door and you go beyond that.)
5. Ring (Ring #2)
by Kji Suzuki
(I won t check out any other litature based on The Ring... I will wait for the f
ilms 3 and 4 based on the last 2 books. I like films mostly you can see more tha
n in the book, in the book you describe the people, you describe where and so on

and so on. But in reality you can t focus on everything to see their faces smil
e, horror, terrified, how they eat, how they speak, how they think, who are the
people around them??... and there are so many questions and stuff which you can
t see in the book and it s kind with loads of obstacles and after all from the b
ook your head will hurt, but from the movie not. The person who will get headach
es will be the people which will work in building the movie. So the problem is t
heir not mine...
Spiral, is pretty interesting it goes new stuff learn about the people, new vict
ims new signals. More complex and many other stuff, some stuff were just unbelie
veable. So well made!)
As far I wnat to tell you I have reached 131 books, ahead with 109 books, but it
really doesnt matter how much I will share them here and I will review them with
you here. If I have reviewed them get it like you have read them!
6. A Slight Trick of the Mind
by Mitch Cullin
(Mr.Holmes the film was based on this book. It was made wondeful, story in story
and also writer in story. Sherlock Holmes was 93 years old guy already an old m
an and loses memory. The people near to him one by one have died, just incredibl
e view. A lot of people around him there aren t and... as far it was kind a adve
nture story.)

7. Hearts in Atlantis
by Stephen King
(These years are comming incredible stuff, starting from awesome films 2015,2016
... so far the stuff these years therea re and pretty interesting stuff can be f
ound. In 2015 it was published the book by Stephen King... Finder Keepers #1...
then Mr. Mercedes #2 and now End of Watch #3... again by Stephen King books part
of the series Bill Hodges. Just incredible the finder keepers I started reading
somewhere in the 11 page out of 300- something and it s pretty interesting one.
I really like it, the jokes, the describing of the picture, the events the stuf
f which happen. I have read these days a lot of books but not all influences me,
there are and some which go slow and slow deeper and slow, the other few storie
s from Thiller.... I still remember it a story which sounded like a gay who want
s his slaves to make him a blowjob.... - OMG... Omg this gross!
For god sake who is this idiot who has gave that idea to be used for a story. In
Thriller 2 I met some pretty interesting stories... authors and some stuff whic
h I found I will be interested in... so so far I just find them by reading books
to make choice... So for this story, it s really well made one one powerful ima
ge, full anger, memories, past vs future, and what??
One move cots a lot of... Stephen King has shown what people are capable of, and
he started watching them a view from the body Bobby... then a view from his gir
lfriend, then view from the guy abuse them, offense them and so far a view from
some kind a guy who have abilities which are supernatural. The Film is wonderful
in about 2 hours the films goes and in the film are shown the best aspects from
the story, as much as possible caught from the story from the book and put in t
he film. If somebody doesn t know what s life is it... how it goes as far I thin
k that this film can prepare people for the drop called it self "life" or if it
isn t the film let s be the story. It really doesn t matter how you will get acc
ess to it, just try to have access to it.

The story is awesome as far as the facts which can blow your mind!)
8. Hart s War by
John Katzenbach
(So what to say!? My father is dead, I finished some interesting stuffs I started
playing chess and my birthday has came and has ended, it was in June 19 now is is
July
This is another work which => after all makes a actor to suicide
- Another very brutal work. A lot of blood, a lot of dead people, just a
picture of Second War. I can t get it why people keep on doing such stuff... th
is book is real example what s a world. Already there is and a film, one actor j
ust playing in the film few days later hang on in his home, so far take it like
he suicide.
YOu want this??
Blood?
Innocent people die and many other people, the fight is between the goverment, t
hat president and that, not between soldiers, not between some people which play
the protection chess. So far I see the world like this, mos people say like in
Person of Interest, If I see it like this I should die.... But that s the true,
we live in this Matrix.
The world is a matrix of chess, everyone can see it. A lot of books have written
about that, why we don t change the road??
I think so far the road is dirty and it s very messy!
As a conclusion the author is very familiar with the second war, and extremely g
ood details.)
I can say, so far find your books or films and start reading or watching them or
listening What I found is extremely powerful, 2 days from the holiday have passe
d and I have utilize them First day I used to learn some interesting stuff about
chess, the second which will mean today I just used to learn some new stuff, to
take a look at some old stuff and then to make practice, so far Im 5 level vs the
computer and Im trying to reach the last level. As for me books shows a lot of s
tuff, which most people miss or

Money transform in object.


If you think little deeper and more deeper you will find that all your life you
have taken money as important and the other is useless like relationship, friend
ship... Of course these days you can by a car, buy a Tv, buy a woman for fucking
her in the ass..., mouth and even and the pussy... a lot of stuf lf these days
you buy to go to school it isn t free sonebody else pay it, to read a book you a
gain give money... "How about, tje porn on the internet??, or the other pirate s
tuff..." Off, that s easy you again pay to see them ypu,should give money for la
ptop or computer or smartphone or something else with these extras you pay the p
roduct + the internet. The product depends from how do you take care for it, the
internet is every month you pay it. So it s not free!
As you see so far from service.., you get money you give them for a product and
again and again and again... you do so you can see so far that money become pro
duct and product become money... and logically they transform!

Like
You know that feeling you like that and that this computer,.. this sister after
all because she is dirty woman, big boobs, deep throat, large as size, hot and s
exy blondy with, deep pussy,... and so on and so on. If you look,at first most l
ikes are because other like it, people like jerk off ..."So do I", people hate n
erds ..."So do I". People say that girls who have glasses or which a born to wae
r them, make incredible blowjobs ..."So do I" (In other words you agree... you d
on t look other aspects... you even want to be like them,... you believe in what
they say!
Fucking woman in the legs it s incredible,... to put your face in the deep pussy
it s incredible..., feetjob + blowjob it s incredible. To lick my pants with cu
m is awesome... you always agree... and believe and like (it s too far isn t it?
?)
You like stuff which you don t understand it, but you share it because you think
it s awesome and you will become awesome. You share, read and understand the st
uff but you never take in use from it. You don t use it.
So my question is why you do it???
....
The answer which you will say it s no wisely!

Romance?? Horror??
It really doesn t matter on romance am not so interest it s like the chapter "Lo
ve" from "The life of kid 1", contents what has happen... (As far as for me I wa
s tricked by somebody, then relationship in matter of joke and what more??? A f
irst kiss at 7-i8 and the person who I had kiss now is fatty girl looks like gyp
sy like the once which are Bulgarian black...)... it s boring people just can di
e from romance "Vintage Death" story appear in "Thiller 2" ot sounds like foolis
h work, full of details a lot of... Kind a drama and what?? A matter of characte
r you will die... I can tell this!
Probably out there, there are and thrillers which are romance, but I don t like
these days pornography have the same effects. As for me I don t have time for lo
ok the known and to go and look the shitty. There are and horrors which aren t i
nteresting... vampires???
What can you think suck, blood and victims... Not big deal, but why is made cate
gory for such works?? Which is "Dracula" or "Vampires"
Horror can be taken as these works in which the victim suffer, Criminal Minds: S
uspect Behavior, the best aspect in this film you can take a look at the killers
and victims faces. CHained, Collection, Collector, It, Carrie, American Horror
Story (kind of, it s kind of interview, horror and relaxing film as far as I ca
n tell!).
As far from these paragraphs I can tell the style, the type are the important as
pects of choosong well made work. A lot of out there like horror, but they like
different once!
Than the others in most cases for example sampbody could be afraid of the americ
an horror story, but others will be afraid of Wrong Turn....!

I see the death of everyone I meet.


Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got booted out of class for telling the new
girl Abigail that she smelt bad. I remember it vividly a bloody-burny-boozy smel

l that hit me the moment she came in. Abigail burst into tears and I got a stern
lecture on telling lies. But it wasnt a lie.
My little nose had leapt forward ten years into the future, where a teenage Abig
ail would drunkenly plough her parents Mitsubishi straight into the front of an o
ncoming bus. When we met again in middle school I smelt it a second time, along
with the song shed be playing on the radio five seconds of a generic disco beat.
The last thing shed hear.
I know its bad to say, but I think theres something sacred about it. Theres nothing
more personal then someones last moments of life. I try not to take it for grant
ed. Its hard, sometimes, though, especially once I got older and better at it. Al
ong with smells came sounds, sights, and even feelings, though that last one was
rare. In this day and age most people go to their death with pastel colours and
blinking machines and a faint whiff of hand sanitizer, their brains too fizzled
to know whats about to happen. There are exceptions. Like Abigail, or my middle
school gym teacher, who was going to die with a deafening bang in a rush of mad
courage. I couldnt hear a word of his opening lecture because my ears were still
ringing. Suicide will do that to you.
Have I ever told anyone? Of course not. Can you imagine? Even if they did believ
e me, which I doubt, it wouldnt be long before curiosity got the better of them.
Theyd want to know what I saw in them. Which is fine for the heart attacks and th
e quietly-in-their-sleeps, but what do you say to a murder? And no you cant chang
e it, dont ask me because I already tried, I already fucking tried and you cant be
at the system. You just cant. I already lost someone to that.
Her name was Phoebe and she was in my History class at community college. It was
a pretty small place and I knew most of the other kids there except for her. We
werent on speaking terms because every time she came within a few feet of me I g
ot the urge to vomit. It was motion sickness, but also something worse fear. Her
s was the worst fear Id ever felt in another human being. I could hardly stand to
be in the same room as her. I managed to avoid her for a couple months, until o
ne day when she arrived late to class. She apologised and looked around, before
striding to the back of the room and sitting beside me.
There was nothing I could do. I felt it all. The nausea, the terror, and a visio
n too, of me stuck fast in my seat as I hurtled headlong flaming out of the sky
the ocean rushing up towards me screaming, then
Smack.
Nothing.
When I came to she was glaring at me.
What the hell is your problem? she whispered.
What? I asked, the queasiness subsiding. I dont
If you dont like me then just say so, asshole. Quit pretending to be ill all the t
ime.
Huh? I sat up, trying to get a better look at her. Wed never been this close before
. She was pretty. I hadnt thought about how I must look to her, running away retc
hing every time she got close. I swear its not on purpose. I said. Im sick a lot. It
isnt you.
Sure. she said, looking back towards the front of the front of the class.
Honestly. I said. Let me let me make it up to you.
She raised her eyebrows. Seriously?
And that was the start of it. Within a month we were official. It was the happie
st time of my life. The sickness didnt go away, but it subsided after a couple mi
nuets, and she stopped taking it personally after a while. Dashing to the bathro
om became part of the routine on dates. We did everything together, all the dumb
couple things movies, dinners, walks. It was my first serious relationship. I c
onvinced myself that her death whatever it was was still years into the future.
For a while, anyway.
At the start of the summer she told me she was going to visit her grandparents o
ut of state. The flights on Monday. I wont be gone much more than a week.
Flight? I repeated.
Yeah. she replied. Hey, whats wrong with you?
I convinced her to take a road trip. I cant remember the exact excuse I gave. Som

e nonsense about expenses, life experience, our carbon footprint. How it took me t
hat long to guess it was a plane crash Ill never know. I was in too deep, I guess
. But whatever it was I said she must have seen I was serious. She rented a red
mini from the local garage and, after wed packed it up, I kissed her goodbye and
said it was the right decision. Okay. She laughed. Weirdo.
Straight after she left I got the urge to call her, but I told myself I was bein
g overprotective. I worked for a few hours, then flopped down in front of the TV
. I watched bad reality shows until I got bored, then flicked to the local news
station just in time to see the breaking story of a twelve car pile-up on a susp
ension bridge, when a truck driver dozing at the wheel had strayed out of his la
ne, clipping the corner of a passing car which swerved into another, triggering
a chain of collisions which ended tragically when some viewers may find this foo
tage disturbing a red mini was forced over the side, plummeting into the ocean b
elow.
So a couple of days ago I got this email.
The writer he didnt give his name had read my story, and said he remembered the i
ncident when Phoebe died from the news. He said he lived in my city. He said he
was sorry.
He said he had the same power.
I wrote back are you serious?
He said yes.
We kept writing. He told me stories about his life. None of them were particular
ly happy. It would have been a miserable existence even without his ability. Lik
e this one passage
I was always sick as a little boy, forever coughing and wheezing and clutching my
throat. It infuriated my father. I got the belt for it. He thought I was preten
ding, because the doctor said there was nothing wrong with my chest. Psychosomati
c, he told my father, who translated it as weakness. As if a child would choke fo
r attention. Nobody noticed how it was triggered by my brothers presence. When I
was twelve and found him dangling in the garage that was the day I realized I was
gifted.
Im sorry. Ive never told anyone this before. I thought you might understand.
There were others as well, like the proposal he turned down because she smelt of
carbon monoxide. I loved her, he said, but I couldnt live in the same house, knowin
g Stuff like that.
We kept messaging. I havent gone out much since Phoebe died. Having someone to ta
lk to was nice. It was strange, and morbid, and overly personal, but at the same
time such a relief. Knowing I wasnt alone. That even within the city limits ther
e was someone else going through the same thing I was.
Eventually he sent me this: We need to meet. There are things you should know, an
d I can only tell you them in person. I know a good place...
So thats how, yesterday afternoon, I found myself sitting in a grubby little caf o
n the wrong side of town. It was practically empty probably why he chose it. Les
s death to deal with. I ordered a coffee from the smiling waitress (a stroke, al
one in her living room, Storage Wars on TV) and watched the window. Someone touc
hed my shoulder. Are you..? a voice asked. I looked up.
He was a middle aged man, thin and shabbily dressed, his bald spot poorly disgui
sed by a greasy comb over. The death hit immediately. It was violent. Really vio
lent. Some kind of blunt weapon shoved repeatedly into the abdomen the sight of
his own blood spreading across the tiles, the sound of a slamming door. It passe
d. He was studying my face.
So you sensed it? he asked, sitting across from me. He was very soft spoken. I nod
ded. You too?
Of course. he replied. The waitress came by and asked to take his order.
Tea. he said, not meeting her eye. She frowned at him, then shuffled away.
Storage wars. he said, and his upper lip curled ever so slightly in disgust.
We talked for a long time in that little caf, reminiscing about the people wed los
t. Well, I talked. All the things Id never been able to discuss about came rushin
g out. He seemed content to listen, flinching every time someone walked past the

table. Eventually, he spoke again.


We need to go somewhere private. I live not far from here. Lets go.
I hesitated, but not for long. I couldnt risk losing out on hearing what he had t
o say. To have even the slightest understanding of my ability the chance wouldnt c
ome again. I agreed to come. He lived in a shabby apartment building a few block
s from the caf. It was a real shithole every surface was peeling and mouldy. The
cheap yellow light in the hallway flickered on and off as we entered.
Not a lot of people come through here. he explained as we climbed the stairs. Thats
how I like it.
His apartment was even worse. I felt my first real doubts when I saw the layer o
f grime covering his only window. The floorboards were covered in bloated, overf
lowing trash bags, and the smell how could he live with the smell?
I dont normally have guests. he said with a forced chuckle. He led me through to th
e kitchen, practically empty except for a plastic table and a couple chairs. Mor
e crap on the counters: loose cutlery, bad food. Flies crawling everywhere. We s
at.
Now, he began, I think its time we discuss the real reason youre here. I didnt respond
Young man, Id like you to tell me my death, please.
I shook my head. Thats thats a bad idea.
Just tell me. He reached across and squeezed my hand. I resisted the urge to recoi
l. Whats it going to be?
I looked at him. There it was again the pool of blood. The slamming door. He was
disgusting, but I did feel bad for him.
Im sorry. I said. Fighting only makes it worse.
You think I dont know that? he said. Do you think that I would defy Death?
Dont you want to? I asked.
Only a fool disobeys death. Death is lord and master. Death is the one true god.
He has chosen us.
All of this he said as quietly as before, his milky white eyes fixed on mine, wi
de and reverent. I tried to stand up, but he pulled me closer. Please, he said. Ple
ase dont leave me.
I cant stand to spend another day like the rest of them. Living in ignorance, in s
tupidity. His yellowing nails dug into the skin of my forearm as he spoke, until
tiny beads of blood rose to the surface. We are just sacks of flesh. We rot from
the day we are born, even in growing there is rot, rot, rot so little weight to s
nap a bone. So little flesh to burn the skin. But us, were special. We ought to k
now our destinies. He chose us us, for his purpose.
I shook my head mutely. I felt frozen in place. Purpose? What purpose?
Young man. He said to me, his voice as soft as ever. Do you know how it feels to me
et someone you know will die at your hand?
I said nothing.
Of course you do. Youve already killed once. Already you have been a servant. My f
irst was my father. One day he was beating me, when in his eyes I saw my own fac
e, contorted in rage I couldnt escape it. I tried. I did, honestly but no man is st
ronger than his Death. He rules me now. I see who to take and I take them, just
as Death tells me.
This is mad. I said. I didnt know what else to tell him. Youre mad.
No, my son. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. The stench of h
is breath filled my nostrils. I am enlightened.
No. I yanked myself free, not noticing his other hand rush towards me until it was
too late. The bottle exploded across my temple. I crumpled into the wall, only
just dodging another blow to the face.
TELL ME! he screamed, stabbing the broken bottle neck. I grabbed his wrist, and ye
lled back
Fuck you!
You know what the worst part is?
There were better ways I could have done it. Nicer ways. Its not like the butter
knife was the closest thing to hand. I saw it lying on the counter and made a da
sh for it because I knew, that was what would kill him. Not something sharp. Not
something heavy. I didnt even have to push it in the first time. I was holding i

t in both hands and he slammed right into me. But I remembered from the vision m
ultiple stabbings. So after he fell I shoved it in again and again until it was
so slick with blood I couldnt get a good grip.
He looked at me, his eyes wide, trying to say something. All he could manage was
a wet gurgling sound. We stared at each other for a second. Then I walked out,
slamming the door behind me. I keep telling myself it was self-defence. The firs
t stab certainly was. But the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth
Anyway. Thats all that happened. Im not answering any more emails.
Here is another great story! This time by Stephen King - A short Story!
I AM THE DOORWAY
Richard and I sat on my porch, looking out over the dunes to the Gulf. The smoke
from his cigar drifted mellowly in the air, keeping the mosquitoes at a safe di
stance. The water was a cool aqua, the sky a deeper, truer blue. It was a pleasa
nt combination. You are the doorway, Richard repeated thoughtfully. You are s
ure you killed the boy - you didn t just dream it? I didn t dream it. And I di
dn t kill him, either - I told you that. They did. I am the doorway. Richard si
ghed. You buried him? Yes. You remember where? Yes. I reached into my br
east pocket and got a cigarette. My hands were awkward with their covering of ba
ndages. They itched abominably. If you want to see it, you ll have to get the d
une buggy. You can t roll this - I indicated my wheelchair - through the sand.
Richard s dune buggy was a 1959 VW with pillow-sized tyres. He collected drift
wood in it. Ever since he retired from the real estate business in Maryland he h
ad been living on Key Caroline and building driftwood sculptures which he sold t
o the winter tourists at shameless prices. He puffed his cigar and looked out at
the Gulf. Not yet. Will you tell me once more? I sighed and tried to light my
cigarette. He took the matches away from me and did it himself. I puffed twice,
dragging deep. The itch in my fingers was maddening. All right, I said. Last
night at seven I was out here, looking at the Gulf and smoking, just like now,
and J.. Go further back, he invited. Further? Tell me about the flight. I s
hook my head. Richard, we ve been through it and through it. There s nothing The seamed and fissured face was as enigmatic as one of his own driftwood sculp
tures. You may remember, he said. Now you may remember.
Do you think so?
Possibly. And when you re through, we can look for the grave. The grave, I sa
id. It had a hollow, horrible ring, darker than anything, darker even than all t
hat terrible ocean Cory and I had sailed through five years ago. Dark, dark, dar
k. Beneath the bandages, my new eyes stared blindly into the darkness the bandag
es forced on them. They itched. Cory and I were boosted into orbit by the Saturn
16, the one all the commentators called the Empire State Building booster. It w
as a big beast, all right. It made the old Saturn 1-B look like a Redstone, and
it took off from a bunker two hundred feet deep - it had to, to keep from taking
half of Cape Kennedy with it. We swung around the earth, verifying all our syst
ems, and then did our inject. Headed out for Venus. We left a Senate fighting ov
er an appropriations bill for further deep-space exploration, and a bunch of NAS
A people praying that we would find something, anything. It don t matter what,
Don Lovinger, Project Zeus s private whiz kid, was very fond of saying when he
d had a few. You got all the gadgets, plus five souped-up TV cameras and a nift
y little telescope with a zillion lenses and filters. Find some gold or platinum
. Better yet, find some nice, dumb little blue men for us to study and exploit a
nd feel superior to. Anything. Even the ghost of Howdy Doody would be a start.
Cory and I were anxious enough to oblige, if we could. Nothing had worked for th
e deep-space programme. From Borman, Anders, and Lovell, who orbited the moon in
6~ and found an empty, forbidding world that looked like dirty beach sand, to
Markhan and Jacks, who touched down on Mars eleven years later to find an arid w
asteland of frozen sand and a few struggling lichens, the deep-space programme h
ad been an expensive bust. And there had been casualties - Pederson and Lederer,
eternally circling the sun when all at once nothing worked on the second-to4ast

Apollo flight. John Davis, whose little orbiting observatory was holed by a met
eoroid in a one-in-a-thousand fluke. No, the space programme was hardly swinging
along. The way things looked, the Venus orbit might be our last chance to say w
e told you so. It was sixteen days out - we ate a lot of concentrates, played a
lot of gin, and swapped a cold back and forth - and from the tech side it was a
milk run. We lost an air-moisture converter on the third day out, went to backup
, and that was all, except for flits and nats, until re-entry. We watched Venus
grow from a star to a quarter to a milky crystal ball, swapped jokes with Huntsv
ille Control, listened to tapes of Wagner and the Beatles, tended to automated e
xperiments which had to do with everything from measurements of the solar wind t
o deep-space navigation. We did two midcourse corrections, both of them infinite
simal, and nine days into the flight Cory went outside and banged on the retract
able DESA until it decided to operate. There was nothing else out of the ordinar
y until. DESA, Richard said. What s that? An experiment that didn t pan out
. NASA-ese for Deep Space Antenna - we were broadcasting pi in highfrequency pul
ses for anyone who cared to listen. I rubbed my fingers against my pants, but i
t was no good; if anything, it made it worse. Same idea as that radio telescope
in West Virginia - you know, the one that listens to the stars. Only instead of
listening, we were transmitting, primarily to the deeper space planets - Jupite
r, Saturn, Uranus. If there s any intelligent life out there, it was taking a na
p. Only Cory went out? Yes. And if he brought in any interstellar plague, th
e telemetry didn t show it. Still - It doesn t matter, I said crossly. Onl
y the here and now matters. They killed the boy last night, Richard. It wasn t a
nice thing to watch - or feel. His head. . . it exploded. As if someone had sco
oped out his brains and put a hand grenade in his skull. Finish the story, he
said. I laughed hollowly. What s to tell? We went into an eccentric orbit aro
und the planet. It was radical and deteriorating, three twenty by seventy-six mi
les. That was on the first swing. The second swing our apogee was even higher, t
he perigree lower. We had a max of four orbits. We made all four. We got a good
look at the planet. Also over six hundred stills and God knows how many feet of
film. The cloud cover is equal parts methane, ammonia, dust, and flying shit. Th
e whole planet looks like the Grand Canyon in a wind tunnel. Cory estimated wind
speed at about 600mph near the surface. Our probe beeped all the way down and th
en went out with a squawk. We saw no vegetation and no sign of life. Spectroscop
e indicated only traces of the valuable minerals. And that was Venus. Nothing bu
t nothing - except it scared me. It was like circling a haunted house in the mid
dle of deep space. I know how unscientific that sounds, but I was scared gutless
until we got out of there. I think if our rockets hadn t gone off, I would have
cut my throat on the way down. It s not like the moon. The moon is desolate but
somehow antiseptic. That world we saw was utterly unlike anything that anyone h
as ever seen. Maybe it s a good thing that cloud cover is there. It was like a s
kull that s been picked clean -that s the closest I can get. On the way back we
heard the Senate had voted to halve space-exploration funds. Cory said something
like looks like we re back in the weather-satellite business, Artie. But I wa
s almost glad. Maybe we don t belong out there. Twelve days later Cory was dead
and I was crippled for life. We bought all our trouble on the way down. The chut
e was fouled. How s that for life s little ironies? We d been in space for over
a month, gone further than any humans had ever gone, and it all ended the way it
did because some guy was in a hurry for his coffee break and let a few lines ge
t fouled. We came down hard. A guy that was in one of the copters said it looked
like a gigantic baby falling out of the sky, with the placenta trailing after i
t. I lost consciousness when we hit. I came to when they were taking me across t
he deck of the Portland. They hadn t even had a chance to roll up the red carpet
we were supposed to ve walked on. I was bleeding. Bleeding and being hustled up
to the infirmary over a red carpet that didn t look anywhere near as red as I d
id... I was in Bethesda for two years. They gave me the Medal of Honor and a lot
of money and this wheelchair. I came down here the next year. I like to watch t
he rockets take off. I know, Richard said. He paused. Show me your hands.
No. It came out very quickly and sharply. I can t let them see. I ve told you
that. It s been five years, Richard said. Why now, Arthur? Can you tell me t

hat? I don t know. I don t know! Maybe whatever it is has a long gestation per
iod. Or who s to say I even got it out there? Whatever it was might have entered
me in Fort Lauderdale. Or right here on this porch, for all I know. Richard si
ghed and looked out over the water, now reddish with the late-evening sun. I m
trying. Arthur, I don t want to think that you are losing your mind. If I have
to, I ll show you my hands, I said. It cost me an effort to say it. But only
if I have to. Richard stood up and found his cane. He looked old and frail. I
ll get the dune buggy. We ll look for the boy. Thank you, Richard. He walked
out towards the rutted dirt track that led to his cabin - I could just see the r
oof of it over the Big Dune, the one that runs almost the whole length of Key Ca
roline. Over the water towards the Cape, the sky had gone an ugly plum colour, a
nd the sound of thunder came faintly to my ears. I didn t know the boy s name bu
t I saw him every now and again, walking along the beach at sunset, with his sie
ve under his arm. He was tanned almost black by the sun, and all he was ever cla
d in was a frayed pair of denim cutoffs. On the far side of Key Caroline there i
s a public beach, and an enterprising young man can make perhaps as much as five
dollars on a good day, patiently sieving the sand for buried quarters or dimes.
Every now and then I would wave to him and he would wave back, both of us non-c
ommital, strangers yet brothers, yearround dwellers set against a sea of money s
pending, Cadillac-driving, loud-mouthed tourists. I imagine he lived in the smal
l village clustered around the post office about a half mile further down. When
he passed by that evening I had already been on the porch for an hour, immobile,
watching. I had taken off the bandages earlier. The itching had been intolerabl
e, and it was always better when they could look through their eyes. It was a fe
eling like no other in the world - as if I were a portal just slightly ajar thro
ugh which they were peeking at a world which they hated and feared. But the wors
t part was that I could see, too, in a way. Imagine your mind transported into a
body of a housefly, a housefly looking into your own face with a thousand eyes.
Then perhaps you can begin to see why I kept my hands bandaged even when there
was no one around to see them. It began in Miami. I had business there with a ma
n named Cresswell, an investigator from the Navy Department. He checks up on me
once a year - for a while I was as close as anyone ever gets to the classified s
tuff our space programme has. I don t know just what it is he looks for; a shift
y gleam in the eye, maybe, or maybe a scarlet letter on my forehead. God knows w
hy. My pension is large enough to be almost embarrassing. Cresswell and I were s
itting on the terrace of his hotel room, sipping drinks and discussing the futur
e of the US space programme. It was about three-fifteen. My fingers began to itc
h. It wasn t a bit gradual. It was switched on like electric current. I mentione
d it to Cresswell. So you picked up some poison ivy on that scrofulous little i
sland, he said, grinning. The only foliage on Key Caroline is a little palmett
o scrub, I said. Maybe it s the seven-year itch. I looked down at my hands. P
erfectly ordinary hands. But itchy. Later in the afternoon I signed the same old
paper ( I do solemnly swear that I have neither received nor disclosed and divu
lged information which would . . . ) and drove myself back to the Key. I ve got
an old Ford, equipped with hand-operated brake and accelerator. I love it - it m
akes me feel self-sufficient. It s a long drive back, down Route 1, and by the t
ime I got off the big road and on to the Key Caroline exit ramp, I was nearly ou
t of my mind. My hands itched maddeningly. If you have ever suffered through the
healing of a deep cut or a surgical incision, you may have some idea of the kin
d of itch I mean. Live things seemed to be crawling and boring in my flesh. The
sun was almost down and I looked at my hands carefully in the glow of the dash l
ights. The tips of them were red now, red in tiny, perfect circlets, just above
the pad where the fingerprint is, where you get calluses if you play guitar. The
re were also red circles of infection on the space between the first and second
joint of each thumb and finger, and on the skin between the second joint and the
knuckle. I pressed my right fingers to my lips and withdrew them quickly, with
a sudden loathing. A feeling of dumb horror had risen in my throat, woollen and
choking. The flesh where the red spots had appeared was hot, feverish, and the f
lesh was soft and gelid, like the flesh of an apple gone rotten. I drove the res
t of the way trying to persuade myself that I had indeed caught poison ivy someh

ow. But in the back of my mind there was another ugly thought. I had an aunt, ba
ck in my childhood, who lived the last ten years of her life closed off from the
world in an upstairs room. My mother took her meals up, and her name was a forb
idden topic. I found out later that she had Hansen s disease -leprosy. When I go
t home I called Dr Flanders on the mainland. I got his answering service instead
. Dr Flanders was on a fishing cruise, but if it was urgent, Dr Ballanger - When
will Dr Flanders be back? Tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Would that - Su
re. I hung up slowly, then dialled Richard. I let it ring a dozen times before
hanging up. After that I sat indecisive for a while. The itching had deepened. I
t seemed to emanate from the flesh itself. I rolled my wheelchair over to the bo
okcase and pulled down the battered medical encyclopedia that I d had for years.
The book was maddeningly vague. It could have been anything, or nothing. I lean
ed back and closed my eyes. I could hear the old ship s clock ticking on the she
lf across the room. There was the high, thin drone of a jet on its way to Miami.
There was the soft whisper of my own breath. I was still looking at the book. T
he realization crept on me, then sank home with a frightening rush. My eyes were
closed, but I was still looking at the book. What I was seeing was smeary and m
onstrous, the distorted, fourth-dimensional counterpart of a book, yet unmistaka
ble for all that. And I was not the only one watching. I snapped my eyes open, f
eeling the constriction of my heart. The sensation subsided a little, but not en
tirely. I was looking at the book, seeing the print and diagrams with my own eye
s, perfectly normal everyday experience, and I was also seeing it from a differe
nt, lower angle and seeing it with other eyes. Seeing not a book but an alien th
ing, something of monstrous shape and ominous intent. I raised my hands slowly t
o my face, catching an eerie vision of my living room turned into a horror house
. I screamed. There were eyes peering up at me through splits in the flesh of my
fingers. And even as I watched the flesh was dilating, retreating, as they push
ed their mindless way up to the surface. But that was not what made me scream. I
had looked into my own face and seen a monster. The dune buggy nosed over the h
ill and Richard brought it to a halt next to the porch. The motor gunned and roa
red choppily. I rolled my wheelchair down the inclined plane to the right of the
regular steps and Richard helped me in. All right, Arthur, he said. It s you
r party. Where to? I pointed down towards the water, where the Big Dune family
begins to peter out. Richard nodded. The rear wheels spun sand and we were off.
I usually found time to rib Richard about his driving, but I didn t bother tonig
ht. There was too much else to think about - and to feel: they didn t want the d
ark, and I could feel them straining to see through the bandages, willing me to
take them off. The dune buggy bounced and roared through the sand towards the wa
ter, seeming almost to take flight from the tops of the small dunes. To the left
the sun was going down in bloody glory. Straight ahead and across the water, th
e thunderclouds were beating their way towards us. Lightning forked at the water
. Off to your right, I said. By that lean-to. Richard brought the dune buggy
to a sand-spraying halt beside the rotted remains of the lean-to, reached into
the back, and brought out a spade. I winced when I saw it. Where? Richard aske
d expressionlessly. Right there. I pointed to the place. He got out and walked
slowly through the sand to the spot, hesitated for a second, then plunged the s
hovel into the sand. It seemed that he dug for a very long time. The sand he was
throwing back over his shoulder looked damp and moist. The thunderheads were da
rker, higher, and the water looked angry and implacable under their shadow and t
he reflected glow of the sunset. I knew long before he stopped digging that he w
as not going to find the boy. They had moved him. I hadn t bandaged my hands las
t night, so they could see - and act. If they had been able to use me to kill th
e boy, they could use me to move him, even while I slept. There s no boy, Arthu
r. He threw the dirty shovel into the dune buggy and sat tiredly on the seat. T
he coming storm cast marching, crescent-shaped shadows along the sand. The risin
g breeze rattled sand against the buggy s rusted body. My fingers itched. They
used me to move him, I said dully. They re getting the upper hand, Richard. Th
ey re forcing their doorway open, a little at a time. A hundred times a day I fi
nd myself standing in front of some perfectly familiar object - a spatula, a pic
ture, even a can of beans - with no idea how I got there, holding my hands out,

showing it to them, seeing it as they do, as an obscenity, something twisted and


grotesque - Arthur, he said. Arthur, don t. Don t. In the failing light his
face was wan with compassion. Standing in front of something, you said. Moving
the boy s body, you said : But you can t walk, Arthur. You re dead from the wais
t down. I touched the dashboard of the dune buggy. This is dead, too. But when
you enter it, you can make it go. You could make it kill. It couldn t stop you
even if it wanted to. I could hear my voice rising hysterically. I am the door
way, can t you understand that? They killed the boy, Richard! They moved the bod
y! I think you d better see a medical man, he said quietly. Let s go back. L
et s -, Check! Check on the boy, then! find out - You said you didn t even kn
ow his name. He must have been from the village. It s a small village. Ask I talked to Maud Harrington on the phone when I got the dune buggy. If anyone i
n the state has a longer nose, I ve not come across her. I asked if she d heard
of anyone s boy not coming home last night. She said she hadn t. But he s a lo
cal! He has to be! He reached for the ignition switch but I stopped him. He tur
ned to look at me and I began to unwrap my hands. From the Gulf, thunder muttere
d and growled. I didn t go to the doctor and I didn t call Richard back. I spent
three weeks with my hands bandaged every time I went out. Three weeks just blin
dly hoping it would go away. It wasn t a rational act; I can admit that. If I ha
d been a whole man who didn t need a wheelchair for legs or who had spent a norm
al life in a normal occupation, I might have gone to Doc Flanders or to Richard.
I still might have, if it hadn t been for the memory of my aunt, shunned, virtu
ally a prisoner, being eaten alive by her own ailing flesh. So I kept a desperat
e silence and prayed that I would wake up some morning and find it had been an e
vil dream. And little by little, I felt them. Them. An anonymous intelligence. I
never really wondered what they looked like or where they had come from. It was
moot. I was their doorway, and their window on the world. I got enough feedback
from them to feel their revulsion and horror, to know that our world was very d
ifferent from theirs. Enough feedback to feel their blind hate. But still they w
atched. Their flesh was embedded in my own. I began to realize that they were us
ing me, actually manipulating me. When the boy passed, raising one hand in his u
sual noncommittal salute, I had just about decided to get in touch with Cresswel
l at his Navy Department number. Richard had been right about one thing - I was
certain that whatever had got hold of me had done it in deep space or in that we
ird orbit around Venus. The Navy would study me, but they would not freakify me.
I wouldn t have to wake up any more into the creaking darkness and stifle a scr
eam as I felt them watching, watching, watching. My hands went out towards the b
oy and I realized that I had not bandaged them. I could see the eyes in the dyin
g light, watching silently. They were large, dilated, goldenirised. I had poked
one of them against the tip of a pencil once, and had felt excruciating agony sl
am up my arm. The eye seemed to glare at me with a chained hatred that was worse
than physical pain. I did not poke again. And now they were watching the boy. I
felt my mind sideslip. A moment later my control was gone. The door was open. I
lurched across the sand towards him, legs scissoring nervelessly, so much drive
n deadwood. My own eyes seemed to close and I saw only with those alien eyes -sa
w a monstrous alabaster seascape overtopped with a sky like a great purple way,
saw a leaning, eroded shack that might have been the carcas of some unknown, fle
shdevouring creature, saw an abominated creature that moved and respired and car
ried a device of wood and wire under its arm, a device constructed of geometrica
lly impossible right angles. I wonder what he thought, that wretched, unnamed bo
y with his sieve under his arm and his pockets bulging with an odd conglomerate
of sandy tourist coins, what he thought when he saw me lurching at him like a bl
ind conductor stretching out his hands over a lunatic orchestra, what he thought
as the last of the light fell across my hands, red and split and shining with t
heir burden of eyes, what he thought when the hands made that sudden, flailing g
esture in the air, just before his head burst. I know what I thought. I thought
I had peeked over the rim of the universe and into the fires of hell itself. The
wind pulled at the bandages and made them into tiny, whipping streamers as I un
wrapped them. The clouds had blottered the red remnants of the sunset, and the d
unes were dark and shadow-cast. The clouds raced and boiled above us. You must

promise me one thing, Richard, I said over the rising wind. You must run if it
seems I might try. . . to hurt you. Do you understand that? Yes. He open-thr
oated shirt whipped and rippled with the wind. His face was set, his own eyes li
ttle more than sockets in early dark. The last of the bandages fell away. I look
ed at Richard and they looked at Richard. I saw a face I had known for five year
s and come to love. They saw a distorted, living monolith. You see them, I sai
d. hoarsely. Now you see them. He took an involuntary step backwards. His face
became stained with a sudden unbelieving terror. Lightning slashed out of the s
ky. Thunder walked in the clouds and the water had gone black as the river Styx.
Arthur - How hideous he was! How could I have lived near him, spoken with him
? He was not a creature, but mute pestilence. He was - Run! Run, Richard! And h
e did run. He ran in huge, bounding leaps. He became a scaffold against the loom
ing sky. My hands flew up, flew over my head in a screaming, orlesque gesture, t
he fingers reaching to the only familiar thing in this nightmare world - reachin
g to the clouds. And the clouds answered. There was a huge, blue-white streak of
lightning that seemed like the end of the world. It struck Richard, it envelope
d him. The last thing ~ remember is the electric stench of ozone and burnt flesh
. When I awoke I was sitting calmly on my porch, looking out towards the Big Dun
e. The storm had passed and the air was pleasantly cool. There was a tiny sliver
of moon. The sand was virginal - no sign of Richard or of the dune buggy. I loo
ked down at my hands. The eyes were open but glazed. They had exhausted themselv
es. They dozed. I knew well enough what had to be done. Before the door could be
wedged open any further, it had to be locked. For ever. Already I could notice
the first signs of structural change in the hands themselves. The fingers were b
egin-fling to shorten. . . and to change. There was a small hearth in the living
room, and in season I had been in the habit of lighting a fire against the damp
Florida cold. I lit one now, moving with haste. I had no idea when they might w
ake up to what I was doing. When it was burning well I went out back to the kero
sene drum and soaked both hands. They came awake immediately, screaming with ago
ny. I almost didn t make it back to the living room, and to the fire. But I did
make it. That was all seven years ago. I m still here, still watching the rocket
s take off. There have been more of them lately. This is a space-minded administ
ration. There has even been talk of another series of manned Venus probes. I fou
nd out the boy s name, not that it matters. He was from the village, just as I t
hought. But his mother had expected him to stay with a friend on the mainland th
at night, and the alarm was not raised until the following Monday. Richard - wel
l, everyone thought Richard was an odd duck, anyway. They suspect he may have go
ne back to Maryland or taken up with some woman. As for me, I m tolerated, altho
ugh I have quite a reputation for eccentricity myself. After all, how many exast
ronauts regularly write their elected Washington officials with the idea that sp
ace-exploration money could be better spent elsewhere? I get along just fine wit
h these hooks. There was terrible pain for the first year or so, but the human b
ody can adjust to almost anything. I shave with them and even tie my own shoelac
es. And as you can see, my typing is nice and even. I don t expect to have any t
rouble putting the shotgun into my mouth or pulling the trigger. It started agai
n three weeks ago, you see. There is a perfect circle of twelve golden eyes on m
y chest.

33 Miners, Buried Alive for 69 Days: This Is Their Remarkable Survival Story
Almost half a mile underground for 69 grueling days, a group of Chilean miners h
angs on to hope. Here is the incredible true story of their ordeal and rescue.

By HECTOR TOBAR
FROM THE BOOK DEEP DOWN DARK also famous as The 33!
The ramp, the main tunnel in the San Jos Mine in Chiles Atacama Desert, begins abo
ut a mile above sea level near the top of a round, rocky mountain. From the 16-b
y-16-foot entrance, the Ramp corkscrews into the mountain through a series of gr
adually narrowing switchbacks. Men driving dump trucks, front loaders, and picku
p trucks use the winding path to gather minerals collected by the workers who mi
ne small passageways for ore-bearing rock.
On the morning of August 5, 2010, some men are working almost 2,500 feet below t
he surface, loading freshly blasted ore into a dump truck. Another group works a
bout a hundred feet above them, fortifying a passageway, while still others are
resting in the Refuge, a room carved out of the rock some 2,300 feet down. The R
efuge, with its cinder block walls and heavy metal door, was supposed to be a sh
elter in the event of an emergency, but it also serves as a break room; fresh ai
r is pumped in from the surface to offer respite from the heat.
A little after 1:00 p.m., Franklin Lobos is driving a pickup truck down to the R
efuge, where a group of miners waits for a ride up to the surface for lunch. Ano
ther miner, Jorge Galleguillos, is riding with Lobos when, at about 2,000 feet b
elow the surface, he suddenly says, Did you see that? A butterfly.
What? A butterfly? No, it wasnt, Lobos answers. It was a white rock.
It was a butterfly, Galleguillos insists.
Lobos cant believe a butterfly would flutter this far down in the dark. But he do
esnt argue. Suddenly, the two men hear a massive explosion. The passageway fills
with dust as the Ramp collapses behind them, hitting the men as a roar of sound,
as if a massive skyscraper is crashing.
Below them, the blast wave throws open the door to the Refuge, and the miners wa
iting on the Ramp for the lunch truck run into the room. Soon about two dozen me
n are huddled inside as the mountain caves in on itself. After a few minutes, as
the noise dies down, the men decide to run for safety, heading out to the Ramp
to try to scramble to the surface.
Luis Urza, the shift manager, and Mario Seplveda, who is operating a front loader,
are near the Refuge when they hear a crash and feel the pressure wave that pass
es through the tunnel. Florencio valos, Urzas assistant, pulls up in a pickup truck
and tells them that the mine is collapsing.
The three men quickly drive to the Refuge to pick up anyone there on lunch break
, but the room is empty. Then they head downhill because hey know there are work
ers deeper in the mine. Its Urzas responsibility to get every man out.
About 150 feet below the Refuge, Mario Gmez and Omar Reygadas, two mining veteran
s, are loading gold-and-copper-laden rock into the back of a truck. They both fe
el a burst of pressure, but Reygadas just thinks the shift supervisor has ordere
d some routine blasting. When their truck is loaded, Gmez begins to drive toward
the surface but gets only a few hundred feet before hitting a thick cloud of dus
t. Soon he can see only a few feet in front of his vehicle. He points his steeri
ng wheel straight, driving blindly. Then Urza appears in front of him, gesturing
for them to stop.
CONTENT CONTINUES BELOW AD
Gmez and Reygadas jump into the pickup, and valos manages to drive back up to the
Refuge. The men trying to escape during a lull in the explosions have now retrea
ted to the Refuge. When they see the truck, they rush toward it, squeezing into

the cab and jumping into the back. Go! Go! Lets get out of here! At the wheel, valos
heads toward the surface.
The truck sags under the weight of the men. When the dust once again becomes too
thick to see through, Mario Seplveda gets out and walks ahead with his flashligh
t, guiding valos forward. They meet up with several mechanics who have been worki
ng higher up in the mine, and they, too, climb aboard. Advancing farther into th
e dust, they meet the truck coming down with Franklin Lobos and Jorge Galleguill
os.
Seplveda shines his light on the two men and sees the blood-drained look of morta
l fear. Lobos and Galleguillos recount the collapse they just escaped. Then Urza
orders them to turn around, and they all head higher up the spiral, more debris
appearing on the roadway of the Ramp, as if they are getting closer to the scene
of a battle.
Eventually rocks block their way, and the men get out and walk. Adrenaline and a
vision of the midday sun at the top of the Ramp urge them up the arduous climb.
They follow the lights of their headlamps and flashlights until the beams strik
e the gray surface of a stone slab. After the dust settles, the full size of the
obstacle becomes apparent. The Ramp is blocked, from top to bottom and all the
way across, by a flat, smooth sheet of the mountain, as tall as a 45-story build
ing and weighing 700,000 tons.

NO WAY OUT
At five feet three inches tall, Alex Vega is the smallest of the miners. He slit
hers on his stomach and stares into a tiny opening beneath the immense gray ston
e. Vega tells the men he thinks he can squeeze through.
No, Urza says. He thinks its a crazy thing to do.
But Vega insists, and finally Urza tells him, Just be careful.
Vega squeezes his small frame into a crevice of jagged rock. With his lamp in ha
nd, he crawls about ten feet into the crack, until he can advance no farther.
Theres no way through, he announces after he crawls out.
For some of the older miners, the sight of the stone and Vegas words bring an ove
rwhelming sense of finality. Some have been trapped in mines before, by rock fal
ls that a bulldozer could clear in a couple of hours. But this gray wall is diff
erent.
Galleguillos thinks hell never see his new grandson, and he feels tears running d
own his cheeks. Gmez, who lost two fingers in a previous accident, realizes that
hes pushed his luck too farfirst his fingers, now his life.
The trapped miners turn their backs on the curtain of stone and split into two g
roups. Eight men search the mines matrix of tunnels for a passageway to the surfa
ce. The main purpose of these shafts is to allow air, water, and electricity to
flow into the mine. They are supposed to be fitted with ladders to provide an es
cape route, but the San Jos Mine is a shoestring operation. The owners have cut c
osts by ignoring some of the safety measures, meaning only a few of the chimneys
have ladders.
CONTENT CONTINUES BELOW AD
The rest of the group heads back to the Refuge. As the two groups split up, Flor

encio valos, the second in command, quietly tells one of the older miners, Take ca
re of the provisions. Dont let the miners eat them yet, because we may be trapped
for days. He speaks softly because he doesnt want to panic the men.
At the Refuge, the miners note that the connections to the surfacethe electricity
, the intercom system, the flow of water and compressed airhave been cut. The fir
st few hours pass slowly, punctuated by rumbling stomachs and the continuing thu
nder of rocks falling somewhere in the dark spaces beyond the weak, warm light o
f their headlamps.
Meanwhile, the eight-man escape expedition drives a jumbo lifter to the chimney,
opening a hole in the ceiling. Raising his head into the hole, Seplveda is surpr
ised to see a ladder, built from pieces of rebar drilled into the rock. He begin
s to climb, with Ral Bustos behind him. The dust makes it hard to breathe, and th
e walls are slippery with humidity. Halfway up, one of the rebar rungs breaks of
f, and the metal strikes Seplveda in the front teeth, sending a rush of blood int
o his mouth. He shakes his head in pain but keeps going.
Seplveda reaches the top of the chimney and sweeps the beam of his flashlight acr
oss the blackness. He stands up, and when Bustos reaches the top, they walk up t
he Ramp, hoping that after the next curve in the spiral, the route to the top wi
ll be open. Instead their light beams strike the shiny, smooth wall blocking the
ir way. Seplveda feels the hope draining from his body, leaving him with a cold,
clear vision of what is happening to them.
The two men turn and walk downhill, past the chimney they just scaled, and go ar
ound another curve to find the same gray wall blocking their path again. When th
ey look for the next chimney opening, the one that might lead them up to a highe
r level, their flashlights reveal that in this one, there is no ladder at all.
This way isnt going to work, Seplveda says. What are we going to tell los nios?
Lets tell them the truth, Bustos says.

THE SEARCH FOR HOPE


At the bottom of the chimney, Seplveda and Bustos deliver the news to the small g
roup of men. The Ramp is blocked on other levels too. There is no way out.
The men look at Urza, the shift supervisor, but he says nothing. He looks drained
and defeated. He knows that men are sometimes buried alive in mines and eventua
lly die of starvation. And he knows that after six or seven days, if the rescuer
s dont find you, they usually give up. Hed like to say something to give his men h
ope, but he refuses to lie to them. So he says nothing. Later, at the Refuge, Ur
za announces to the men that he is no longer their boss. Theyre all stuck together
, he says, and they should make decisions together.
Seplveda has a different attitude. His life has been one struggle after anotherhis
mother died delivering him, and he grew up one of ten children of a hard-drinki
ng father. Fighting to stay alive is when he feels most like himself. And so, de
spite his lack of standing in the mining hierarchy, Seplveda tries to take contro
l of his own fate and that of the men around him with optimism and a focus on su
rvival. When Urza and Seplveda and the men from the failed escape attempt arrive a
t the Refuge, they find a scene of disarray. Some of the hungry men have broken
into the food supplies and grabbed packages of cookies and cartons of milk. Theyr
e sitting in the darkness, crumpling plastic wrappers and chewing cookies.
What are you doing? Seplveda says with his raspy voice. Dont you realize we might be

down here for days? Or weeks?


Then he and Bustos reveal the truth about what they learned higher up in the min
e. They are trapped. There will be no easy escape or rescue.
Seplveda leads a tally of what is inside the emergency cabinetcans of peaches, pea
s, and tuna, along with 24 liters of condensed milk and 93 packages of cookies.
But the men will not die of dehydration. There are several thousand liters of wa
ter in nearby tanks, to keep the engines cool. The water is tainted with small a
mounts of oil, but it is still drinkable.
A few men go back up to the caverns to try to alert people on the surface to the
presence of men belowhonking the horn of a front loader, banging the arm of the
machine against the wall. They hear nothing in return.
Around 10 p.m., the men in the Refuge begin looking for a place to lie down. Oma
r Reygadas, a widower, thinks about his children and grandchildren. He begins to
cry, so he steps out of the Refuge. He finds a front loader on the Ramp and sit
s inside, remembering the moment of collapse. Tons of rock have fallen, yet no o
ne is hurt. He thinks it carries a hint of the divine.
CONTENT CONTINUES BELOW AD
Meanwhile, Urza has surrendered his authority, but he has not given up completely
. Some of the men are restless and go back to the base of the chimney that Seplve
da and Bustos climbed. They set fire to an oil-soaked air filter and a small tir
e, hoping the smoke will drift up and reach the surface, sending a signal that t
here are living men below.
They use a front loader to try to move the rocks in some of the galleries. Maybe
if they clear a space, there will be an opening that leads upward. But every ti
me they lift out rocks, more fall from the top of the pile.
At noon on the second day, all 33 men gather as Seplveda divides and distributes
their daily mealone teaspoon of canned fish mixed with water, and two cookies for e
ach man. That single meal at noon, containing fewer than 300 calories, has to ho
ld them until the next day.

SURVIVING UNDERGROUND
On the day the miners are trapped, men on the surface hear the explosions and se
e the dust spewing out from the mine entrance. One rescue team descends in a pic
kup truck until, about 1,500 feet below the surface, the men come to the flat gr
ay mass of mountain blocking the Ramp. Another team brings ropes and pulleys to
descend into the chimneys, but at each level, they find the same obstruction.
Calls go out to the local fire department, the National Geology and Mining Servi
ce, and the disaster office of Chiles Ministry of the Interior. The mining compan
y puts off contacting the families of the men, but wives and girlfriends and par
ents and siblings soon find out and congregate at the mine. Several times during
the first few days, the mountain rumbles as if it is going to explode again.
Underground, the miners huddle inside the relative safety of the Refuge, making
the heat and humidity even worse. The room fills with the smell of their sweatin
g, unbathed bodies. They have no idea how long theyll be down there, so they must
conserve the water. It is too precious to use for bathing.
To keep from feeling hopeless, they talk and joke and tell stories. One miner, Vc
tor Segovia, starts a diary. There is a great sense of powerlessness, he notes. We

dont know if theyre trying to rescue us, because we dont hear any machines working.
Another miner, Jos Henrquez is a devout Evangelical, and he leads the men in praye
r. We arent the best men, but Lord, have pity on us, he says. They kneel and ask Go
d to guide their rescuers to the tiny room where they are waiting.
Henrquez also has a cell phone. There is no service, but the men can use the phon
e to record events. Mario Seplveda narrates a short video of the men making a mea
l. Tuna with peas! he announces. Eight liters of water, one can of tuna, some peas.
So we can survive this situation.
After the meal, a few of the men get excited because they say they can hear the
sound of distant drilling. Its a lie, someone replies. You cant hear anything.
The discussion goes back and forth, until even those who say they felt that fain
t and possibly imaginary vibration concede that it has stopped, or has disappear
ed, or may have never existed.
Segovia writes in his diary that the men feel the monster of insanity welling up i
nside them. Four days underground now. He draws stick figures of the men lying o
n the ground; he lists the names of his five daughters and of his mother and fat
her and himself and then circles a heart around them. Dont cry for me, he writes.
At 7:30 p.m. on August 8, some 78 hours after being trapped, Segovia records the
sound of something spinning, grinding, and hammering against the rock. A drill.
Do you hear that? Seplveda shouts. What a beautiful noise!
Those drills can make 100 meters a day, says one of the miners.
Everyone does the math. It will be another five or six days, if nothing goes wro
ng.
THE RESCUE PLAN
Once
the
the
the

the plan was in place, it took a 46-ton drill more than a month to complete
nearly half-mile-deep rescue shaft. On October 12, 2010, Florencio valos was
first miner to reach the surface in the capsulepainted white, blue, and red,
colors of the Chilean flag.

buried alive rescue capsule


BRYAN CHRISTIE DESIGN FOR READER S DIGEST
buried alive rescue diagram
BRYAN CHRISTIE DESIGN FOR READER S DIGEST

DESPERATE DRILLING
The first drill platform arrives at the San Jos Mine on Sunday, August 8, on a ve
hicle as long as a gasoline tanker. The rescuers consult the blueprints for the
mine and begin drilling for the Refuge. The grinding and pounding spit a cloud o
f dust from a chimney pipe and send a flow of wastewater over the ground. Nearby
, other teams begin to drill as well. Eventually nine drills will be workingrescu
ers are firing nine bullets at the target, hoping one will hit. A borehole to th
e Refuge would allow rescuers to deliver food and other supplies to the trapped
miners.

By this time, all of Chile is watching. The countrys president puts his minister
of mining in charge of the rescue effort, and the president him- self makes a vi
sit to the mine. The drilling proceeds for a fourth, fifth, and sixth day. Shrin
es arise on the mountain, built by family members, with candles affixed to the r
ocks. Prayer is their only defense against the growing sense of hopelessness and
finality.
The night of August 15, the miners 11th day underground, a drill hits an open spa
ce 1,653 feet below the surface but still about 650 feet above the Refuge. All t
he drills are halted as rescuers put their ears to a steel pipe theyve lowered in
to the shaft. They hear a rhythmic noise, a tapping. A camera is sent down the b
orehole. There is nothing. Just a space of empty rock. The tapping sound? The po
wer of suggestion. They want someone to be down there, and so they hear things t
hat arent there.
The days pass, and pessimism grows. Some people say the miners are all dead. Oth
ers report strange occurrencesclaiming to see spirits of the 33 men wandering aro
und the neighborhood.
In the Refuge, some of the men play checkers with a set crafted from pieces of c
ardboard. They all tell stories; they talk about food. They conclude that if the
y die, their families might get between $80,000 and $120,000, or nearly a decades
worth of wages for an average Chilean worker.
The drilling grinds on and then stops, often for hours at a time, leaving a crue
l silence. Some men decide they cant just sit and wait for the drills to reach th
em. The rescuers will eventually give up without a sign of life from below, the
miners reason. So they renew their efforts to send a message to the top. They co
llect some dynamite and some fuses and walk up as high as they can. They wait fo
r the drilling to stop. Then they light the fuse. The dynamite explodesbut they a
re 2,300 feet underground. How could anyone on the surface hear?
CONTENT CONTINUES
On August 16, the
t they are losing
of our faces, and

BELOW AD
12th day underground, Segovia notes in his diary the signs tha
hope: Hardly anyone talks anymore. The skin now hugs the bones
our ribs all show, and when we walk, our legs tremble.

Their metabolisms are slowing down. Even the most energetic among them are sleep
ing longer than normal, and there is a haze drifting over their thoughts. Severa
l men experience a strange side effect of prolonged hunger: Their dreams and nig
htmares are unusually long and vivid.
On the 16th day, the men share their last peach. Several men start writing farew
ell letters, in the hopes that a rescuer might one day find their final message.
They are starting to feel weak. For some, it seems as if the next time they fal
l asleep, they might not wake up. Some need help to stand up and walk down the R
amp to go to the bathroom. The older miners, especially, are beginning to resign
themselves to their fate. Only Omar Reygadas keeps insisting, Theyre coming for u
s.
On the 17th day underground, the men hear another drill getting closer, the rata-tat-tat sound getting louder, holding the promise of either liberation or anot
her disappointment. Segovia cant allow himself to believe the drill will break th
rough. Instead, he asks Seplveda, What do you think dying is like?
Seplveda says its like falling asleep. Peaceful. You close your eyes; you rest. Al
l your worries are over.

A BREAKTHROUGH
At 6 A.M. on August 22, several men on the drill platform are asleep. But one dr
iller notices something oddthe steel tube is starting to stutter. Suddenly the du
st coming out of the chimney stops, and the pressure gauge drops to zero. He sto
ps the drill.
Far below, there is a small explosion just up the tunnel from the Refuge. The gr
inding stops, and there is a whistling of escaped air. Two miners jump up and ru
n toward the noise. They see a length of pipe protruding from the rock. A drill
bit lowers and rises and lowers again.
One miner begins pounding with a wrench on the pipe protruding from the ceiling.
He strikes it against the pipe with joy and desperation. Were here! Were here!
Soon all 33 miners gather around the pipe and the drill bit, embracing and weepi
ng. Jos Henrquez, who, after 17 days underground, has been
transformed into a shirtless and starving prophet, looks at the drill bit and pr
onounces to everyone:
Dios existe, he says. God exists.
Up above, the drill operator feels the pulse in the steel and puts his ear to th
e shaft. He hears a frantic tapping. Its them! he calls out.
The other drills on the mountain stop. Calls go out to Chilean officials. The dr
ill team raises up the bit and removes the steel tubing from the shaft. The mine
rs have painted the bottom of the tube. A note announces: We are well in the Refu
ge. The 33.
A camera and a microphone are lowered into the borehole, and soon the sound of t
he miners cheering and yelling comes over the speakerphone on the surface. The n
ext tube lowered down contains small bottles of a glucose mixture. A note warns
the miners not to drink it too quickly, but of course the men swallow it in one
gulp, and several feel their stomachs cramp up painfully.
CONTENT CONTINUES BELOW AD
More glucose is sent down, along with medicines and eventually real food. Then t
he miners receive the first letters from their families.
On August 30, twenty-five days after the miners were trapped, the rescue team be
gins drilling a rescue hole. The plan is to excavate a 15-inch pilot hole, then
widen it to 28 inchesroom enough for a small capsule to bring the miners up one a
t a time. Because of the groups location and the danger of another collapse in th
e 100-year-old mine, the rescue could take months. God willing, Chilean president
Sebastin Piera tells the men, well have you out before Christmas.

THE NIGHTMARE ENDS


july aug 2015 buried alive rescue
JUAN MABROMATA/AFP/GETTY IMAGES
Sixty-nine days after the miners were buried, on the night of October 12, rescue
r Manuel Gonzlez descends in a capsule to coordinate the evacuation. Florencio val
os is the first to go up. Well see each other up on top, he tells the other miners
as he enters the cage. valos rises through the shaft. It takes 30 minutes to get
to the surface.

By the end of the next day, all 33 buried miners are brought to the surface. Res
cuer Gonzlez is the last man out. None of the men sustains serious injury, though
most of them suffer lingering psychological and emotional issuesnightmares, depr
ession, and alcohol abuse.
Today, most of those problems have begun to heal. The men received pensions from
the Chilean government, enough that the older men could retire. Most of the you
nger miners are back to work, though, several in aboveground jobs with the natio
nal mining company; one is a truck driver, and another has a fruit business.
None of the miners got rich from their adventure or the publicity surrounding it
. But they are all still alive.

That s one true story, full of hope and so suprising. So far there is a book fam
ous as The 33 even Deep Down Dark you can check out the story with more details
and also you can check out the film The 33 it s 2 hours and something but it s i
ncredible. What s suprising they are one big family, so far like brothers... It
was said in the film "They remain brother to this day!"...

#Keep
Keep searching, keep digging you have missed something what you have missed it s
already here so enjoy!

The 4 Dumbest Money Mistakes People Make and How to Stop Making Them, According
to Shark Tank s Mr. Wonderful
What does it cost you to be alive? If you dont know the answer, you could be headed
for a financial trainwreck. If not now, probably soon, says Kevin OLeary.
When it comes to his own money, the shrewd, sharp-tongued Shark Tank star has lo
ng managed it meticulously, even when he was a shy kid growing up in Montreal, C
anada. The young Mr. Wonderful, now a silver-haired 61, carefully scrimped and sav
ed a percentage of every dollar he accrued, whether earned or gifted. And the mu
lti-millionaire mutual funds magnate still does.
Recently, on the set of Shark Tank, we asked the frugal finance whiz what he thi
nks the worst money mistakes people make are and how to best avoid them. Heres wh
at he said:
The mistake: Spending on

crap clothing you wont wear.

Most people buy more crap than they use. This includes men and women alike, espec
ially when it comes to clothes. They love the feeling of clothing shopping, but
the truth is, if you actually look at your closet, you probably wear the same 20
percent 80 percent of the time, and the rest of the stuff you bought is wasted.
"
Related: Shark Tank s Kevin O Leary: Having Dyslexia Is a Superpower inof time
thinking about, and that youre actually going to use. Save your money and put it
toward quality items and be very selective. Itll pay off in the long run. I wear
the same suit every day. I have 20 of them, so I dont have to worry about my sty
le anymore. I travel with four at a time and I burn them out Then I throw them o
ut or give them to charity.
The mistake: Not knowing your monthly nut.
What I find so remarkable, and this includes very wealthy people I know, is nobod
y knows what theyre monthly nut is. Whether youre single, married, a single parent
or otherwise, most people dont know what it costs them to live every 30 days, an
d thats living on the edge.
Related: Shark Tank s Kevin O Leary Says Married Entrepreneurs Must Do This or R
isk Divorce
The solution: Calculate your cost of living and budgeting accordingly.
Write down everything. All of your habits of spending. All of your income. All of
the extra ways you make money. Capture it, down to the penny, over a 90-day per
iod. Do it with pen and paper. You dont even need a computer for this. Then do wh
at needs doing -- budget accordingly and stick to it. Business
The solution: Invest in high-quality clothes and wear them out.
If youre going to buy clothing or fashion accessories, make it something really go
od thats going to be timeless, that youre going to spend a lot of money on and spe
nd a lot
The mistake: Spending more than you make.
Not knowing whats coming in and whats going out puts you at risk, in a state of nev
er getting ahead. Most often, youll find youre spending more than what youre bringi
ng in.
The solution: Tighten your belt and fast.
Its simple and requires discipline: Spend less and save more. Adjust your lifestyl
e because overspending manifests itself usually in credit card debt, which is so
expensive that it buries you.
Related: 10 Questions to Ask When Working With an Accountant
The mistake: Racking up credit card debt.
A credit card is a horrible thing. Under no circumstances should you have one, le
t alone more than one, not unless you can fully pay them off each and every mont
h. Even then Id avoid them.
The solution: Ditch those bad cards for good.
Pay off your credit cards, then cut them up. You wont regret it. Its the best thing
you can do to put yourself in a better financial position right now.

Yeah, sometimes I hate some stories for example the stories like with a lot of n
ew words so far for me or stories which aren t put together well. But I mostly e
njoy facts so far 159 facts I have read yesterday and some of them have just bl
own my mind. I really like the Gotham series, when is about music my favourite a
re by Token, FarEastMovement and Waka Flocka, if I haven t said yet, I will say
it now I m now 17 years old, before few pages I was just 16 it s just incredible
! - It s unbelieveable the effect, so far my mind it s blown!
So here is some interesting short stories from Creepypast, which I enjoyed yeste
rday and when I read them they just get alive!
- You
The next time you go to the library, be sure to keep an eye out for a certain bo
ok. There is no other book like it, and no copies. It can turn up anywhere in th
e library. It can be on any shelf, any table, in the hands of any person. The co
ver is made of leather, and the book is titled YOU.
Once you find the book, dont open it. Go to the librarian to check the book out.
The librarian should give you a strange look and utter Oh that one.
Bring the book home. You may be tempted to open the book, but make sure you dont.
At midnight, step into your closet, book in hand, and shut the door. Make sure
that all you see is darkness, and that the only noise you can hear is your heart
beat.
Open the book. In the book contains all of the knowledge of your past, present,
and future. As you flip the pages of the book, moving from past events to presen
t events, stop once you reach the end of the present events. You will know when
to stop when you see yourself in the closet, reading the book.
Before you move on to read future events, think about whether you REALLY want to
know about the future.
If you decide not to read further, close the book, leave it on the floor in your
closet, and leave. Be sure to keep the book INSIDE the closet. You will notice
in the morning that the book is gone.
If you decide to read your future events, begin to turn the pages of the book. I
t is extremely important that you DONT scream when you read about your death. Dont
take your eyes off the book when you see yourself being dragged into the depths
of darkness that was once your closet. Dont blink as you see yourself being torn
apart by a hungry beast, the bloody book laying on the floor next to your sever
ed limbs. Dont be surprised when you feel the beasts hand on your shoulder
- Arms
(This story was very real, I think that I saw a ghost which scared the hell out
of me!)
I remember when it started. The woman next door was strangled to death in her be
d, with no sign of forced entry. Although her window was open, she lived on the
fifth floor without a fire escape. The killer was never found, and the apartment
remained vacant.
Some time after she died, I started having night terrors. I would awaken suddenl
y, gasping for air. One night I opened my window and stuck my head out to take s

ome deep breaths. Thats when I first noticed him. A man was standing in the windo
w of an apartment across the street. It was the only one with the lights on, and
his body was just a silhouette. I couldnt really make it out at first, but he se
emed to be outstretching his arms toward the window.
The next night, I awoke again in a panic. This time it really felt like someone
was choking me, but there was no one there. I assumed the incident with the woma
n next door was just making me paranoid. For the first time in my life, I was a
little scared to be alone. As I opened the window for some fresh air, I noticed
him again. Just as the night before, there was one apartment across the street w
ith a light on, and a man standing in the window with his arms outstretched.
Is that all this guy does? I muttered to myself. Maybe hes not right in the head. I h
ad an eerie feeling that he was looking right at me, but it was hard to see. I c
losed the window, pulled the shades, and went back to bed.
I was getting curious about the man in the apartment across the street, so I bou
ght some binoculars. During the day, I watched his window to see if there was an
ything strange going on. There was no activity; not even any furniture that was
visible from the window. Had he moved out since last night? I watched until the
sun went down, but no light in the apartment ever came on.
That night I dreamed there was a man at my window. Like my late neighbor, I live
d on the fifth floor and there was no fire escape. It was hard to see his face,
but I could feel his eyes examining me. His presence was thick and suffocating;
almost intoxicatingly so. I struggled to avoid his gaze as I ran to the window,
attempting to close the shades. Before I could scream, he reached right through
the glass and put his hands around my neck.
I awoke terrified and convulsing. The window was open, though I had closed it ea
rlier. Coughing and wheezing, I stuck my head out and took in the night air. It
was unusually quiet; no cars on the road. Looking down at the street, there was
a long stretch of light penetrated by a looming shadow. Reluctantly, I panned up
to find the source. Again, there was one apartment across the street with a lig
ht on, and a man standing in the window with his arms outstretched. I grabbed my
binoculars to get a closer look. Immediately, I was petrified. He was most defi
nitely staring at my window, and his arms seemed to be reaching for me. I locked
the window, pulled the shades, and hid under the blankets.
Each night I became more paranoid. I stopped looking out my window, and kept it
locked at all times with the shades drawn. Even so, I could feel him staring at
my apartment. I thought about calling the police, but I still wasnt sure if it wa
s all in my head. Then came that horrible night.
As usual, I awoke in hysterics. My window was still locked but the shades were u
p. I looked across the street, and the man with his arms outstretched had his wi
ndow open. This was my chance. If he could hear me, maybe I could get a response
out of him.
What the hell are you looking at?! I shouted, but there was no reply. The man rema
ined silent and motionless; his arms extended slightly beyond his open window. I
thought he would at least be startled, but he showed no sign of acknowledgement
. Why do you stand there every night?! Still nothing. Just as I turned away, his l
ight went out. I looked back to see if he was still standing there, but it was t
oo dark. I slammed the window shut, locked it, pulled the shades, and turned on
the TV. There was no way I was going back to sleep. Or at least, thats what I kep
t telling myself until I started to pass out. I couldnt help it, so I shut off th
e TV and climbed into bed.
Later that evening I had another night terror, feeling like I was being strangle

d. The sensation didnt stop, however. This time I really was being strangled! Two r
eal hands were clasped around my neck, attempting to squeeze the life out of me.
As I struggled to break free, I tried to get a look at my attacker. I followed
the arms, expecting them to lead to a body, but they just kept going. They stret
ched all the way to, and through, my open window. I couldnt believe it! Arms were
reaching into my fifth story window, all the way to my bed, and were choking me
!
I flailed around, trying to wrestle away from the freakish extremities. Kicking
and scratching didnt phase them, and the grip was so tight that it hurt to move.
I reached out in desperation for the knob on the nightstand drawer, as brittle n
ails dug into my skin. I managed to get it open, but trying to reach inside made
the choking even more painful. Frantically, I felt around for anything sharp. I
grabbed a pen and began stabbing the left arm with every ounce of strength in m
y body. I dont know how many times I stabbed it, but eventually it pulled back a
little, removing the left hand from around my throat. I grabbed it, pulled it to
my mouth, and bit down as hard as I could until I drew blood.
The arm shook violently, trying to pull its hand from my jaws. Choking on blood,
I unclenched my teeth. Both arms began retreating while I spit and gagged. I st
umbled to the window hoping to slam it down on them, but I just grazed the finge
rtips. I watched in horror as the arms, which had stretched all the way across t
he street, retracted back to their source. My heart stopped when I saw who they
were attached to. They were his arms. I couldnt look away as the hideous limbs wobb
led and whipped, returning to their normal length. He put them down at his sides
, and the light went out. This time I didnt just lock the window, I moved the boo
kcase in front of it.
I sat on the floor shaking, trying to get my thoughts together. What was I going
to tell the police? A man reached into my window from across the street and tri
ed to strangle me? Theyd surely think it was a prank call, but I needed someone t
o check out that apartment or I would never be able to sleep again. I decided to
make a quick, anonymous call about a domestic disturbance.
Eventually, two officers pulled up to the building across the street. They went
inside, and a light soon came on in the window. I waited for something to happen
, hoping I didnt just send two unwary men to their deaths. After mere minutes, th
e light went out and the officers returned to their vehicle. Their voices just m
anaged to carry up to my window, and I heard them say what I was hoping they wou
ldnt. Nobody lived there.
A few weeks later, I saw a moving van outside the building. Someone was moving i
nto that apartment. I was relieved, though my night terrors had already stopped.
One night I couldnt sleep, so I turned on a light and looked outside. I noticed
someone across the street looking out their window. For some reason I felt compe
lled to reach for them. Im still trying.

What is dead?
I write this as an apology to those who are affected by my mistakes. I hope that
you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, though I will understand if you c
ant.
My wife was terminally ill and, a few month ago, she died. I was very sad at the
loss as she was a marvellous, caring woman. She was kind, and everyone that met
her said their lives were better for it. I couldnt bear the pain though, so I di
d something terrible.
I will not tell you how I did it or how I learned to, for enough damage has been
done, but I found a way to bring her back. To raise her from the dead. I could
no longer bear to be alone, and I made a terrible mistake in my loneliness.
When I finished the ritual, nothing happened. Not at first, anyway. I was about
to re-bury her when I first started to hear breathing. With an understandable me
asure of joy, I realised that the sound was emanating from her mouth. I had done
it. At the time I could not fully understand what it was, but, in my blissful ign
orance, I carried her home.
She was not the same. She was no longer caring, but a primal, instinctive beast.
She howled and screamed, snarled at me whenever I passed. I was worried, nt for
my own sake but for hers. SHe could escape. She could go out and do something t
o get hurt.
Let the record show that it was for her own good that I locked her in my basemen
t. I never meant to keep her that way. I never knew that my actions would set a
chain reaction of unfathomable horrors into action.
I kept her there for as long as I could, but her screams grew more and more desp
erate. I was chilled to my very core by the screams of my betrothed, and before
long I stood on the rain slick precipice of insanity. I needed to do something.
As it so happened, I was not the only one to hear the screams. My neighbours beg
an to show interest, eventually sneaking onto my estate to snoop around. I caugh
t them in the act, and as I had no explanation for what they may have seen, I at
tacked them. I didnt kill them, but they were unable to leave of their own accord
and, as I feared the consequences of letting them go, I locked them in the base
ment with my wife.
This was my second mistake. The first, of course, being that I raised her in the
first place.

That night I knew the sound of crunching bone.


Upon my awakening in the morning, I went down to check on the neighbours. One wa
s gone, the other was wide eyed, cowering in the corner and covered in blood. So
mething else was off, too, though at first I did not know what. Then it hit me.
The screams had subsided. My wife was asleep.
She had fed, and now she slumbered. All this time, the screams were of hunger. I
shut the door, and went to lie down.
She lasted a few more days, obviously feasting on the other neighbour. It seemed
that she only needed to eat once every few days.
Now, Im not proud of what I did next, but I didnt know what else to do.
I went out at night every few days, around the time that only a few people would
still be around. I stalked the streets and attacked people who walked alone. I
would take them back to my wife and leave them in the basement. I would often wa
ke from my slumber to hear their screams, cries for help. This would always rous
e the beast and would never last longer than a minute or so. 10 minutes of crunc
hing and gurgling pleas later the deed would be done and I could rest easy for a
nother few days.
Although I did now kill anyone, I may as well have. It was my actions that broug
ht about the deaths of so many, and my actions that robbed so many of loved ones
, of closure. How many torn and bloodied rags did I have to burn? How many perso
nal affects were destroyed by my hands? I lost track of the numbers, but surely
even one is too high a number!
I was kept awake the its screams and it shall henceforth be referred to as it, for
I have come to the conclusion that this monster is NOT my beloved so I fed it.
A night of rest for the lives of so many.
Day by day it grew stronger, its strength either increasing or returning, for I
know not what horrible beast is now in possession of my wifes body, and as time w
ent on I was forced to bring home more food. Bigger people. Men. 2 women. A woma
n and a man. Eventually it was eating a full grown man every day.
I knew, in some dark corner of my mind I knew that this could not go on forever.
I could not keep taking people. I was in danger of being caught, and, though I
deserved to be, fear took hold of me and that, I suppose, is why I let that char
ade go on for as long as it did. So I decided to flee.
I had just packed my bags when I heard a knock on my door. The police had found
a trail of blood leading through the woods up to my estate and were inquiring as
to whether Id seen or heard anything suspicious. I managed to keep a cool head a
nd talk my way out of what could have potentially been a very unpleasant situati
on.
I know not why, only that I deserved it. It began to scream. It screamed louder
than I had ever heard it scream before, and it sounded mad. The police instantly
drew their guns and went in, thinking perhaps some horrific predatory beast had
made its way into my home. They eventually found my basement door and threw it
open. Slowly, ever so slowly, they descended the stairs. I was at a loss for wha
t to do, so I did the only thing I could think of in the heat of the moment.
I shut the door.
Throwing the bolt across, I ran to my quarters and grabbed my bags, making for t
he door. The screams of the police haunt me to this very day.

I heard the sound of splintering wood as that thing burst out of its cell. It wa
s now loose in the house.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me out of there, out into the streets of th
e town I had stalked, into a train and I left that place far behind.
My old home is a ghost town now. Splashed with blood, yet no bodies remain. How
I long to return to my estate, to gather up all of my research and burn it so th
at this might never happen again. I have made many an attempt to do so, in fact,
though every time I get near I hear that beasts wild howls, screaming for flesh.
I know it haunts my home now. I know it wears my wifes skin, but the worst part o
f all this?
I let it happen.

Quotes by DeYtH Banger


Let s try to stuck and unstuck from time with little wisdom from me DeYtH!
My favourite thing is when my mother goes in the other to go and to talk to the p
hone, I use that moment for wisdom.
Deyth Banger
People a lot of times say that they live one life, say that we all live one... no

you are in mistake so far


I can say that 10 games I have played in which I have died and reborn, then 197
books I have read, 6 more are waiting to be finished, 197 books = 197 lifes, so
far!
407 films = 407 lifes so far 197 + 407 equal 604... Every dramatical moment in w
hich you have survive like car crash or others such type are equal +1 life... so
far it looks like I have lived a lot of. Every Year in the tree branch with the
branch...
Deyth Banger
Accepting ourselves, okay I like such type of girls, I like watching porn, I like
such kind of music, okay I like such kind off books like horror and sci-fi, I l
ike deathstep as a music... It should be find I should accept myself people shou
ld accept me as the guy who I am truly, people should accept themselfs also.
Deyth Banger
Alone and lonely are two different words.
- Get it?
Different alone is nothing, lonely is like disease you get it and there isn t ge
tting rid off it.
Deyth Banger
Just by doing what rich do... can make you also rich... Rich drink coca-cola so y
ou can too!
Deyth Banger
I hate today, today is everyday.
- I think something is going on most cases I m wrong others I m right...
Deyth Banger
Mankind have angels and devils, this thing is called balance!
Deyth Banger
Hell is so bloody thing, but with Lucifer from Lucifer series, hell is like comed
y.
Deyth Banger
Say "No Evil", do no evil.
Deyth Banger
(My favourite quote is this from Gotham Series Say "No Evil", do no evil... and
after few minutes you see a person who is laughing and who has removed his eyes
and he is closed in his cell the Oswald Cobblepot is scared from this... YOu sho
uld check out Gotham series I finished them month July and so far they are very
interesting already two season available and even the Joker was there a brand ne

w!)
Some people like bees, always can get out and always can start chasing you.
Deyth Banger
It s not going well!
Deyth Banger
So bloody massacre, so nasty, so brutal he just starts to eat alive people flesh.
Deyth Banger
A party, isn t party without an a entertainment!
Deyth Banger
The best stories will come from jail, the people which are in the prison, also an
d from the victims.
Deyth Banger
The best characters which always say the truth
reality are the villiance, like The Joker, the
rom the Storm of the Century, but not only they
he 33, The story of the Mr.Nobody, Unbroken the
people are in this category!

and show it and somehow put you in


guy from The Shinning, The guy f
the victims also the people in T
power of will... and many other

Deyth Banger
(SO you are asking "What do they mean???" YOu answer you said that you are cleve
r there isn t doubt in your knowledge is it?... Probably scared to dead?
But who gives the fuck? The guy who pays the fuck! :D :D)
I m sure for that comming there was a reason, but what s going to happen with tha
t reason and Gotham?
Deyth Banger
From a killer to victim, what a twisted thing!
Deyth Banger
Yeah you were lucky, you had your chances to don t get shoot, but after all you d
one it for your girlfriend, but what kind of love is that?
So far you got lucky a lot of shoots touched you, so far you are the lucky shoot
y victim.
Deyth Banger

Congratulations, to the people which made gotham series, still need some more and
extra work!
Deyth Banger
Failures and mistakes are lessons, keep study school doesn t deserv a penny to gi
ve what you remember from school is just the worst stuff.
Deyth Banger
(I can say from here as a note, that it was a great day to meet you, you still c
an t know me as a character what I know here isn t the all and I can t know what
I know :D!
Confuse is something normal. I Can say that I have shared as much as possible re
views, but I can t handle all of them. SO far be glad and for this! - Brand new!
...
I can t liee this book went very messy even this...!)

The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings #1)


by J.R.R. Tolkien
After all, it was a long journey!
I always had some kind of not interesting such books then interested, then not a
nd such combination I had for years, months, weeks and days. It was pretty stran
ge!
I had the same feeling and for Harry Potter and never thought about reading it a
nd never wanted to read it somehow the story to go and view it, I was frighten t
o open the door of this story. Probably I didn t had skills for that or who know
s?
It was a strange feeling, and now I had it but it was small, some how it has red
uce, but how? Why?
I really can t answer!
Harry Potter Reminds for this story, harry potter was the same but some how adva
nced and +past here it was little advanced and more from the past. It s not bad,
but something the story needed something was missing, it s difficult to find gr
eat stories which are translated I am sure that this story probably it s not tra
nslated and if it s translated it won t be the same ghost from the first languag
e the horror, the emotions some how the editors in translating the work in most
case lose this and some how you say to yourself "I Can read it", "I will read it
, for few days, even today I can finish it"... but after all something loses you
r interest.
The film was great, a lot of details were very well shown, I can t imagine to im
agine so well the picture, always the films will give the best picture. I don t
know how, but some how I have problem, I can t imagine something which I haven t
saw, most cases what I compare most stories which I read is with details from f
ilms and outside pictures outside from the films, this I use them to put the cha
racters the killers are the people from the documentaries, from pictures on the
internet from the films and so far somehow like this I build everything. It s st
range I know but what to do?

In the film the guy who played the old guy with the beard famous as Dumbledore h
e played again as the magician but this time as Gandalf, the battles were very w
ell made in the film, I am sure that in the book are very well described if the
book sucks and the film sucks - That s the logic, it s rare a film to suck and a
book to be awesome!
You know hen you have a toy you give all emotions and when you give them you som
ehow you are not interested any more and somehow to you this toy is indifferent,
the same is done and to people and many other things and when this done so far
for me everything goes indifferent once is that stage I really don t care will i
t be broken or not. But this sounds like the shit we everyday eat as a breakfast
it s not a real shit which mean something which taste awful but something which
taste stage "Okay", but we have eaten it so many time so we find it indifferent
. Sherlock holmes the book by Charles DIckens it was very bad this book it wasn
t bad if there was something bad this had taken star (1), so now it s 4 out of 5
.

Thats a crazy story, its called


Jeff THe Killer
After weeks of unexplained murders, the ominous unknown killer is still on the r
ise. After little evidence has been found, a young boy states that he survived o
ne of the killers attacks and bravely tells his story.
I had a bad dream and I woke up in the middle of the night, says the boy, I saw tha
t for some reason the window was open, even though I remember it being closed be
fore I went to bed. I got up and shut it once more. Afterwards, I simply crawled
under my covers and tried to get back to sleep. Thats when I had a strange feeli
ng, like someone was watching me. I looked up, and nearly jumped out of my bed.
There, in the little ray of light, illuminating from between my curtains, were a
pair of two eyes. These werent regular eyes; they were dark, ominous eyes. They
were bordered in black andjust plain out terrified me. Thats when I saw his mouth.
A long, horrendous smile that made every hair on my body stand up. The figure s
tood there, watching me. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he said it. A
simple phrase, but said in a way only a mad man could speak.
He said, Go to sleep. I let out a scream, thats what sent him at me. He pulled up a
knife; aiming at my heart. He jumped on top of my bed. I fought him back; I kick
ed, I punched, I rolled around, trying to knock him off me. Thats when my dad bus
ted in. The man threw the knife, it went into my dads shoulder. The man probably
wouldve finished him off, if one of the neighbors hadnt alerted the police.
They drove into the parking lot, and ran towards the door. The man turned and ran
down the hallway. I heard a smash, like glass breaking. As I came out of my roo
m, I saw the window that was pointing towards the back of my house was broken. I
looked out it to see him vanish into the distance. I can tell you one thing; I
will never forget that face. Those cold, evil eyes and that psychotic smile they

will never leave my head.


Police are still on the look for this man. If you see anyone that fits the descr
iption in this story, please contact your local police department.
***
Jeff and his family had just moved into a new neighborhood. His dad had gotten a
promotion at work, and they thought it would be best to live in one of those fan
cy neighborhoods. Jeff and his brother Liu couldnt complain though. A new, better
house. What was not to love? As they were getting unpacked, one of their neighbo
rs came by.
Hello, she said, Im Barbara; I live across the street from you. Well, I just wanted
to introduce myself and introduce my son. She turns around and calls her son over
. Billy, these are our new neighbors. Billy said hi and ran back to play in his ya
rd.
Well, said Jeffs mom, Im Margaret, and this is my husband Peter, and my two sons, Jef
f and Liu. They each introduced themselves, and then Barbara invited them to her
sons birthday. Jeff and his brother were about to object, when their mother said
that they would love to. When Jeff and his family are done packing, Jeff went up
to his mom.
Mom, why would you invite us to some kids party? If you havent noticed, Im not some
dumb kid.
Jeff, said his mother, We just moved here; we should show that we want to spend tim
e with our neighbors. Now, were going to that party, and thats final. Jeff started
to talk, but stopped himself, knowing that he couldnt do anything. Whenever his m
om said something, it was final. He walked up to his room and plopped down on hi
s bed. He sat there looking at his ceiling when suddenly, he got a weird feeling
. Not so much a pain, but a weird feeling. He dismissed it as just some random fe
eling. He heard his mother call him down to get his stuff, and he walked down to
get it.
The next day, Jeff walked down stairs to get breakfast and got ready for school.
As he sat there, eating his breakfast, he once again got that feeling. This tim
e it was stronger. It gave him a slight tugging pain, but he once again dismisse
d it. As he and Liu finished breakfast, they walked down to the bus stop. They s
at there waiting for the bus, and then, all of a sudden, some kid on a skateboar
d jumped over them, only inches above their laps. They both jumped back in surpr
ise. Hey, what the hell?
The kid landed and turned back to them. He kicked his skate board up and caught
it with his hands. The kid seems to be about twelve; one year younger than Jeff.
He wears a Aeropostale shirt and ripped blue jeans.
Well, well, well. It looks like we got some new meat. Suddenly, two other kids app
eared. One was super skinny and the other was huge. Well, since youre new here, Id
like to introduce ourselves, over there is Keith. Jeff and Liu looked over to the
skinny kid. He had a dopey face that you would expect a sidekick to have. And hes
Troy. They looked over at the fat kid. Talk about a tub of lard. This kid looked
like he hadnt exercised since he was crawling.
And I, said the first kid, am Randy. Now, for all the kids in this neighborhood the
re is a small price for bus fare, if you catch my drift. Liu stood up, ready to p
unch the lights out of the kids eyes when one of his friends pulled a knife on hi
m. Tsk, tsk, tsk, I had hoped you would be more cooperative, but it seems we must
do this the hard way. The kid walked up to Liu and took his wallet out of his po
cket. Jeff got that feeling again. Now, it was truly strong; a burning sensation
. He stood up, but Liu gestured him to sit down. Jeff ignored him and walked up
to the kid.
Listen here you little punk, give back my bros wallet or else. Randy put the wallet
in his pocket and pulled out his own knife.
Oh? And what will you do? Just as he finished the sentence, Jeff popped the kid in
the nose. As Randy reached for his face, Jeff grabbed the kids wrist and broke i
t. Randy screamed and Jeff grabbed the knife from his hand. Troy and Keith rushe
d Jeff, but Jeff was too quick. He threw Randy to the ground. Keith lashed out a
t him, but Jeff ducked and stabbed him in the arm. Keith dropped his knife and f
ell to the ground screaming. Troy rushed him too, but Jeff didnt even need the kn

ife. He just punched Troy straight in the stomach and Troy went down. As he fell
, he puked all over. Liu could do nothing but look in amazement at Jeff.
Jeff howd you? that was all he said. They saw the bus coming and knew theyd be blame
d for the whole thing. So they started running as fast as they could. As they ra
n, they looked back and saw the bus driver rushing over to Randy and the others.
As Jeff and Liu made it to school, they didnt dare tell what happened. All they
did was sit and listen. Liu just thought of that as his brother beating up a few
kids, but Jeff knew it was more. It was something, scary. As he got that feelin
g he felt how powerful it was, the urge to just, hurt someone. He didnt like how
it sounded, but he couldnt help feeling happy. He felt that strange feeling go aw
ay, and stay away for the entire day of school. Even as he walked home due to th
e whole thing near the bus stop, and how now he probably wouldnt be taking the bu
s anymore, he felt happy. When he got home his parents asked him how his day was
, and he said, in a somewhat ominous voice, It was a wonderful day. Next morning,
he heard a knock at his front door. He walked down to find two police officers a
t the door, his mother looking back at him with an angry look.
Jeff, these officers tell me that you attacked three kids. That it wasnt regular f
ighting, and that they were stabbed. Stabbed, son! Jeffs gaze fell to the floor, s
howing his mother that it was true.
Mom, they were the ones who pulled the knives on me and Liu.
Son, said one of the cops, We found three kids, two stabbed, one having a bruise on
his stomach, and we have witnesses proving that you fled the scene. Now, what d
oes that tell us? Jeff knew it was no use. He could say him and Liu had been atta
cked, but then there was no proof it was not them who attacked first. They could
nt say that they werent fleeing, because truth be told they were. So Jeff couldnt d
efend himself or Liu.
Son, call down your brother. Jeff couldnt do it, since it was him who beat up all t
he kids.
Sir, itit was me. I was the one who beat up the kids. Liu tried to hold me back, b
ut he couldnt stop me. The cop looked at his partner and they both nod.
Well kid, looks like a year in Juvy
Wait! says Liu. They all looked up to see him holding a knife. The officers pulled
their guns and locked them on Liu.
It was me, I beat up those little punks. Have the marks to prove it. He lifted up
his sleeves to reveal cuts and bruises, as if he was in a struggle.
Son, just put the knife down, said the officer. Liu held up the knife and dropped
it to the ground. He put his hands up and walked over to the cops.
No Liu, it was me! I did it! Jeff had tears running down his face.
Huh, poor bro. Trying to take the blame for what I did. Well, take me away. The po
lice led Liu out to the patrol car.
Liu, tell them it was me! Tell them! I was the one who beat up those kids! Jeffs mo
ther put her hands on his shoulders.
Jeff please, you dont have to lie. We know its Liu, you can stop. Jeff watched helpl
essly as the cop car speeds off with Liu inside. A few minutes later Jeffs dad pu
lled into the driveway, seeing Jeffs face and knowing something was wrong.
Son, son what is it? Jeff couldnt answer. His vocal cords were strained from crying
. Instead, Jeffs mother walked his father inside to break the bad news to him as
Jeff wept in the driveway. After an hour or so Jeff walked back in to the house,
seeing that his parents were both shocked, sad, and disappointed. He couldnt loo
k at them. He couldnt see how they thought of Liu when it was his fault. He just
went to sleep, trying to get the whole thing off his mind. Two days went by, wit
h no word from Liu at JDC. No friends to hang out with. Nothing but sadness and
guilt. That is until Saturday, when Jeff is woke up by his mother, with a happy,
sunshiny face.
Jeff, its the day. she said as she opened up the curtains and let light flood into
his room.
What, whats today? asked Jeff as he stirs awake.
Why, its Billys party. He was now fully awake.
Mom, youre joking, right? You dont expect me to go to some kids party after There was
a long pause.

Jeff, we both know what happened. I think this party could be the thing that brig
htens up the past days. Now, get dressed. Jeffs mother walked out of the room and
downstairs to get ready herself. He fought himself to get up. He picked out a ra
ndom shirt and pair of jeans and walked down stairs. He saw his mother and fathe
r all dressed up; his mother in a dress and his father in a suit. He thought, wh
y they would ever wear such fancy clothes to a kids party?
Son, is that all your going to wear? said Jeffs mom.
Better than wearing too much. he said. His mother pushed down the feeling to yell
at him and hid it with a smile.
Now Jeff, we may be over-dressed, but this is how you go if you want to make an i
mpression. said his father. Jeff grunted and went back up to his room.
I dont have any fancy clothes! he yelled down stairs.
Just pick out something. called his mother. He looked around in his closet for wha
t he would call fancy. He found a pair of black dress pants he had for special o
ccasions and an undershirt. He couldnt find a shirt to go with it though. He look
ed around, and found only striped and patterned shirts. None of which go with dr
ess pants. Finally he found a white hoodie and put it on.
Youre wearing that? they both said. His mother looked at her watch. Oh, no time to c
hange. Lets just go. She said as she herded Jeff and his father out the door. They
crossed the street over to Barbara and Billys house. They knocked on the door an
d at it appeared that Barbara, just like his parents, way over-dressed. As they
walked inside all Jeff could see were adults, no kids.
The kids are out in the yard. Jeff, how about you go and meet some of them? said B
arbara.
Jeff walked outside to a yard full of kids. They were running around in weird co
wboy costumes and shooting each other with plastic guns. He might as well be sta
nding in a Toys R Us. Suddenly a kid came up to him and handed him a toy gun and
hat.
Hey. Wanna pway? he said.
Ah, no kid. Im way too old for this stuff. The kid looked at him with that weird pu
ppydog face.
Pwease? said the kid. Fine, said Jeff. He put on the hat and started to pretend shoo
t at the kids. At first he thought it was totally ridiculous, but then he starte
d to actually have fun. It might not have been super cool, but it was the first
time he had done something that took his mind off of Liu. So he played with the
kids for a while, until he heard a noise. A weird rolling noise. Then it hit him
. Randy, Troy, and Keith all jumped over the fence on their skateboards. Jeff dr
opped the fake gun and ripped off the hat. Randy looked at Jeff with a burning h
atred.
Hello, Jeff, is it? he said. We have some unfinished business. Jeff saw his bruised
nose. I think were even. I beat the crap out of you, and you get my brother sent t
o JDC.
Randy got an angry look in his eyes. Oh no, I dont go for even, I go for winning.
You may have kicked our asses that one day, but not today. As he said that Randy
rushed at Jeff. They both fell to the ground. Randy punched Jeff in the nose, an
d Jeff grabbed him by the ears and head butted him. Jeff pushed Randy off of him
and both rose to their feet. Kids were screaming and parents were running out o
f the house. Troy and Keith both pulled guns out of their pockets.
No one interrupts or guts will fly! they said. Randy pulled a knife on Jeff and st
abbed it into his shoulder.
Jeff screamed and fell to his knees. Randy started kicking him in the face. Afte
r three kicks Jeff grabs his foot and twists it, causing Randy to fall to the gr
ound. Jeff stood up and walked towards the back door. Troy grabbed him.
Need some help? He picks Jeff up by the back of the collar and throws him through
the patio door. As Jeff tries to stand he is kicked down to the ground. Randy re
peatedly starts kicking Jeff, until he starts to cough up blood.
Come on Jeff, fight me! He picks Jeff up and throws him into the kitchen. Randy se
es a bottle of vodka on the counter and smashes the glass over Jeffs head.
Fight! He throws Jeff back into the living room.
Come on Jeff, look at me! Jeff glances up, his face riddled with blood. I was the o

ne who got your brother sent to JDC! And now youre just gonna sit here and let hi
m rot in there for a whole year! You should be ashamed! Jeff starts to get up.
Oh, finally! you stand and fight! Jeff is now to his feet, blood and vodka on his
face. Once again he gets that strange feeling, the one in which he hasnt felt for
a while. Finally. Hes up! says Randy as he runs at Jeff. Thats when it happens. Som
ething inside Jeff snaps. His psyche is destroyed, all rational thinking is gone
, all he can do, is kill. He grabs Randy and pile drives him to the ground. He g
ets on top of him and punches him straight in the heart. The punch causes Randys
heart to stop. As Randy gasps for breath. Jeff hammers down on him. Punch after
punch, blood gushes from Randys body, until he takes one final breath, and dies.
Everyone is looking at Jeff now. The parents, the crying kids, even Troy and Kei
th. Although they easily break from their gaze and point their guns at Jeff. Jef
f sees the guns trained on him and runs for the stairs. As he runs Troy and Keith
let out fire on him, each shot missing. Jeff runs up the stairs. He hears Troy
and Keith follow up behind. As they let out their final rounds of bullets Jeff d
ucks into the bathroom. He grabs the towel rack and rips it off the wall. Troy a
nd Keith race in, knives ready.
Troy swings his knife at Jeff, who backs away and bangs the towel rack into Troys
face. Troy goes down hard and now all thats left is Keith. He is more agile than
Troy though, and ducks when Jeff swings the towel rack. He dropped the knife an
d grabbed Jeff by the neck. He pushed him into the wall. A thing of bleach fell
down on top of him from the top shelf. It burnt both of them and they both start
ed to scream. Jeff wiped his eyes as best as he could. He pulled back the towel
rack and swung it straight into Keiths head. As he lay there, bleeding to death,
he let out an ominous smile.
Whats so funny? asked Jeff. Keith pulled out a lighter and switched it on. Whats funn
y, he said, Is that youre covered in bleach and alcohol. Jeffs eyes widened as Keith
threw the lighter at him. As soon as the flame made contact with him, the flames
ignited the alcohol in the vodka. While the alcohol burned him, the bleach blea
ched his skin. Jeff let out a terrible screech as he caught on fire. He tried to
roll out the fire but it was no use, the alcohol had made him a walking inferno
. He ran down the hall, and fell down the stairs. Everybody started screaming as
they saw Jeff, now a man on fire, drop to the ground, nearly dead. The last thi
ng Jeff saw was his mother and the other parents trying to extinguish the flame.
Thats when he passed out.
When Jeff woke he had a cast wrapped around his face. He couldnt see anything, bu
t he felt a cast on his shoulder, and stitches all over his body. He tried to st
and up, but he realized that there was some tube in his arm, and when he tried t
o get up it fell out, and a nurse rushed in.
I dont think you can get out of bed just yet. she said as she put him back in his b
ed and re-inserted the tube. Jeff sat there, with no vision, no idea of what his
surroundings were. Finally, after hours, he heard his mother.
Honey, are you okay? she asked. Jeff couldnt answer though, his face was covered, a
nd he was unable to speak. Oh honey, I have great news. After all the witnesses t
old the police that Randy confessed of trying to attack you, they decided to let
Liu go. This made Jeff almost bolt up, stopping halfway, remembering the tube co
ming out of his arm. Hell be out by tomorrow, and then you two will be able to be
together again.
Jeffs mother hugs Jeff and says her goodbyes. The next couple of weeks were those
where Jeff was visited by his family. Then came the day where his bandages were
to be removed. His family were all there to see it, what he would look like. As
the doctors unwrapped the bandages from Jeffs face everyone was on the edge of t
heir seats. They waited until the last bandage holding the cover over his face w
as almost removed.
Lets hope for the best, said the doctor. He quickly pulls the cloth; letting the re
st fall from Jeffs face.
Jeffs mother screams at the sight of his face. Liu and Jeffs dad stare awe-struck
at his face.
What? What happened to my face? Jeff said. He rushed out of bed and ran to the bat
hroom. He looked in the mirror and saw the cause of the distress. His face. Itits

horrible. His lips were burnt to a deep shade of red. His face was turned into a
pure white color, and his hair singed from brown to black. He slowly put his ha
nd to his face. It had a sort of leathery feel to it now. He looked back at his
family then back at the mirror.
Jeff, said Liu, Its not that bad.
Not that bad? said Jeff, Its perfect! His family was equally surprised. Jeff started
laughing uncontrollably His parents noticed that his left eye and hand were twit
ching.
Uh Jeff, are you okay?
Okay? Ive never felt happier! Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaa, look at me. This face goes p
erfectly with me! He couldnt stop laughing. He stroked his face feeling it. Lookin
g at it in the mirror. What caused this? Well, you may recall that when Jeff was
fighting Randy something in his mind, his sanity, snapped. Now he was left as a
crazy killing machine, that is, his parents didnt know.
Doctor, said Jeffs mom, Is my son alright, you know. In the head?
Oh yes, this behavior is typical for patients that have taken very large amounts
of pain killers. If his behavior doesnt change in a few weeks, bring him back her
e, and well give him a psychological test.
Oh thank you doctor. Jeffs mother went over to Jeff. Jeff, sweety. Its time to go.
Jeff looks away from the mirror, his face still formed into a crazy smile. Kay mo
mmy, ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa! his mother took him by the shoulder and took him to get
his clothes.
This is what came in, said the lady at the desk. Jeffs mom looked down to see the b
lack dress pants and white hoodie her son wore. Now they were clean of blood and
now stitched together. Jeffs mother led him to his room and made him put his clo
thes on. Then they left, not knowing that this was their final day of life.
Later that night, Jeffs mother woke to a sound coming from the bathroom. It sound
ed as if someone was crying. She slowly walked over to see what it was. When she
looked into the bathroom she saw a horrendous sight. Jeff had taken a knife and
carved a smile into his cheeks.
Jeff, what are you doing? asked his mother.
Jeff looked over to his mother. I couldnt keep smiling mommy. It hurt after awhile
. Now, I can smile forever. Jeffs mother noticed his eyes, ringed in black.
Jeff, your eyes! His eyes were seemingly never closing.
I couldnt see my face. I got tired and my eyes started to close. I burned out the
eyelids so I could forever see myself; my new face. Jeffs mother slowly started to
back away, seeing that her son was going insane. Whats wrong mommy? Arent I beauti
ful?
Yes son, she said, Yes you are. L-let me go get daddy, so he can see your face. She
ran into the room and shook Jeffs dad from his sleep. Honey, get the gun we.. She st
opped as she saw Jeff in the doorway, holding a knife.
Mommy, you lied. Thats the last thing they hear as Jeff rushes them with the knife,
gutting both of them.
His brother Liu woke up, startled by some noise. He didnt hear anything else, so
he just shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. As he was on the border of
slumber, he got the strangest feeling that someone was watching him. He looked u
p, before Jeffs hand covered his mouth. He slowly raised the knife ready to plung
e it into Liu. Liu thrashed here and there trying to escape Jeffs grip.
Shhhhhhh, Jeff said,Just go to sleep.

Hello To Nobody
by DeYtH Banger

Hello or hi???
Am I right here please tell me, because I have started feeling that everything w
hich I say is written somewhere, If it doesn t happen or promise is broken it hap
pens that because it s written.
But this is nothing. Compare with guilt. I feel guilty from nothing it s like this
(Is "0" - something. - Answer "No". but if I put 1 before 0.. it s "10" but how
nothing with 1 or 1 with nothing makes something??? - Very confusing, so my ques
tion is when you are going to ask yourself the question about your own existent?
) My guilt is more likely something like Paradox.. . Seeing stuff which I haven t
done but my mind convinces me that I have done them.
I even started forgetting stuff like data like my mind is a computer and SOMEBODY
deletes my files which collecTed all. make memory (Sounds pretty impressive, doe
s it?) with that started coming problems with my NATIVE language.. ( A lot of
American and English time spent and less time on my NATIVE language it starts mak
ing me even if you were on my place... to forgot stuff first 1 then 2. 3.. 4..5..67.
With that started and a strange paranoia, of losing that afraid posting something
on too less places. Mainly afraid of losing it. (OFFFFFFFFF COMMMON. NOT NOW. PLE
ASE. GIVE SOME FUCKING SPACE.. . IN REPLACE FOR SLAVE I HAVE A LOT OF - WTF THAT S PR
ETTY SHITTY. OFFF. OFF BE QUITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE)
Sometimes I have some kind of vision of doing stuff, which are horrible I just se
e it while I am awake. I always have been afraid to be first and last, I HAVE ALW
AYS WANTED to be in the middle. I have been always afraid of say my opinion

P.S. As for now I try to work in the shadows as much as possible.

181818
1
8
1
8
1
8
If you see in 3 times 18 like that 18 18
18 better go away... add it in the blacklist... block it... and remove it. Never
answer, it s for your own good. 18...18... let s called it takes a lot of money
when I asked how much... with little bit wait like 2-3 minutes and reply someth
ing like "I don t know... sweety..."
- but I doubt about that! I am sure that she knows more than she says... I BET
that she get s money from doing this to be more accurate as for you folks for no
w she or he... I am not sure but "it" was pretending to be "she". Which if it i
s true, it s a nice start... but probably it s a lie everything have the feeling
of smoothness... softness and even dryness... which makes stuff like "K" "care"
... if they aren t said in the perfect way or the way they should be... they sou
nd like "Don t care".. "Whatever..."... "Fuck off.. .". I am studying emotions
and I can say so far Facebook, Skype and even real world all they have one in co
mmon faking emotions but in real
These type of people like to go slow that s why she ignored some stuff out of tha
t changing that being more random. And what silence people fake and laugh, as for s
ciencetist some of them COULDN T find who was laughing animal or human so If this
has happened add it like 1 level chaos
. so far what it made me impression
1. My phone went out of money after 23 message.
2. My tablet went out of money after 64 message.
3. Both went wrong after saying ... "Be dirty with me... say some dirty words to
me... I like that.."
- Probably being dirty means some extra cash... probably if dirty and specific t
o something = something which = means something.
But "ok" "ok" sounds kind of fucked up imagine that you are Spanish or Russian guy a
nd your mother says "ok" it s kind of confusing but 400 $ to give ...already happe
n which is on the track "If it has happened how could you allow it to happen again
?" how. How .????? could possible do it? Are You Right with your mind". even Now is
500$ cash costs for devices tablets, phones... and this type of stuff... - OMG
To be honest I played 2 people!
- After all.. different identities...... ages... like 22 and 20... probably 2...
2... pattern... but who gives a shit about that... you spot it... but he and th
ey didn t... So let s once and forever and ever never and ever.... be you!

What did I get on my phone there was something dirty and even asking kind of ser
ious question... in the second it went different like "I don t care"... Even she
didn t added me in her Facebook.. she said "Later"... and later sounds most lik
ely... 1... or 2 hours period rough said... but from then up to now it s more th
an 1... 2.. hours
But this is the same in 1... I wasn t added - So Fake.. so fucked up ... 500$ For nothing!

That s like hours most likely 1 or 2 is the smallest problem and the biggest is
(64 + 23 =. Hmmm.. .. 87 messages which cost 500$ to understand better my positi
on in my country you get 100 or 150 or up to 300 and some cases up to 400$ and
now to talk about 500$ - WTF!? and this money are given from the government or yo
ur boss for a month and something like with 6 people to live..). (Note: Sadly time
goes fast get fast naked not you man I am not a gay but you. The woman the redhead sw
ety pff time 22:03 Friday!)
.
As for what do I know from 87 messages twice asked for name. Where do I live most m
essages even like. Okay whatever and something like that.. take the messages or SM
S s like 5$ each reply sounds expensive or not?
200$ salary or 300 or 400 and so much money you should give.
Unfortunately, I am still alive not in big trouble and 10$ for a week I get. But i
t s horrible image.
What do I don t see???
It s FUCKING horror that I give 400$ and I don t get and some awesome extra stuff
sucking pussy.. . FUCKING pussy, feetjob, footjob, booking and so on and so on ju
st 87 replies mader by me and here messages sent to me are "Free" and that s all
which after all is Fucked up "How much does it cost?" silence no reply fROM THE FU
CKING BIATCH IT WAS A QUESTION ABOUT HOW MUCH SHOULD I PAY TO FUCK HER."ADD ME IN
FACEbook" IF SILENCE... OKAY IGNORANCE IF "OK" AND NOT DONE NOT ACCEPTABLE NOT SERIO
US - WANNA RESPECT BIATCH!? SUCK MY COCK AND WATCH ME IN THE EYES DON T MOVE THEM. I
F YOU DO IT right YOU GET MT RESPECT IF NOT PROBABLY YOU DON T NEED THAT FACE DO YA
?
Probably some cakes to make from your body it will deserve I to pay for that shi
t...
There were some ideas to go out
a BIATCH which I don t know and
E. BUT IN THE END TO BE ON THE
D PLEASURE BLOWJOB FEETJOB AND
AL MY MONEY WITHOUT DOING WHAT I

Notes out of my Direction!


But it s hammer day.

but how to go out???? 17 years old goes out with


who knows what s going to happen. PLEASURE. PLEASUR
SAME TOPIC SHE WILL WANT MONEY SHE WILL SAY YOU WANTE
SO ON AND SO ON NOW GIVE MONEY OR ROBBERY PROBABLY STE
WANT... VERY CONFUSING. VERY!

1. Life Chapter (Robin Sharma)


- I lost my data on that topic.
2 Jokes (Haha)
- What to say??
Jokes which are made on twice thinking... or something on wrong way said in odd
or strange way... That s all.
3. DeXteR
- He always knowe who is the killer. I am in season 4 episode 5... 10/30/2016. A
nd he knows the killers from the shadows from the darkness.
4. CashBall
- I lost my data on that topic.
5. Minus 1 Book
- I lost my data on that topic.
6. Truth
- Hurts... even more when you find you are the main reason.
7. Fucked Up
- It s going to be fucked when they find your real "You". When they reveal you.
... all this faces can be saw on Breaking Bad, Person Of Interest and Dexter.
This is going to blow my mind on Dexter... so perfect killers, so gruesome.... J
ust no Wods Season 4 episode 5 - 46:15.
8. Secret 2 Level.
- Nobody can predict the perfect killer... no one... in the end the conclusions
are wrong... "He is like me" - like Dexter.
Secrets and secrets... without a reasons Person Of Interest and Breaking Bad up
to 5 season... ans both end in 5 season.
-Other data mainly from you is lost - sorry bro!

Humans
by DeYtH Banger
I hate them, I know the fact that I am one of them... But I really can t live li
ke that and eith that thought. So logically If I am a human... it means the bad
souls should be caged in the animals, some kind of God work - Of Punishment. It s stupid conclusion!!!!!!!??????? But what do u want from 17 years old?
Or it s not stupid and... that s true... and to know it and to don t know it...
Aliens won t come they know that we are stupid and that we are under their level
. Even the aliens on the movies aren t real... I still have difficulty creating
a Alien in my mind which is reading a book... watching TV.... I always get them
in my mind something like out of Stephen King works.
Let s play with this... If aliens are alive... what If they use us as dolls and
they pull the strings!? This could explain a lot of... or even to be inside of g
iant computer which will explain the fact 1969 or 1977 the computers... how they
came out... from nowhere. Even fit with us... here is another to use it as a to
y... and to play with it... Since 12 years old "You"... and 22 years old "you"..
. there is differences... but you couldn t take a picture of the "Differences"..
. I mean the day you woke up without any hair in your ass... inside of your pant

s... Or or on your legs... I mean perfectly the "Whole beginning"...

But after all books... should be wise and humans or mankind to be stupid. Becaus
e in one book there are so much words that as for man he will say all this words
in about 2 years... (But still is strange that I insult humanity or mankind and
... I kind of make author and humanity two different creatures)... But I still c
an t explain this fact.
I have always been fascinated from women a lot of from them - it s rare to see a
woman to be in distance... and to talk little ...
as for men I have saw few... and that s kind of fascinating how they talk so mu
ch...
Whatever on that phenomena,... men = few ... = rare... let s try on women probab
ly 500 Pages book are in about 3 months... words for their... they talk so much
... but it won t be... 1 year or it s possible 500 pages one year talk from them
looks like...
( I hear that I tear up people... how is that possible?????? I CAN T exPLAIN THA
T...and now people which pretended to be my friends... with fucked up reasons..
. skip it up... By itself, words sound strange... all languages as possible... "
so"... sounds more likely... "Sol".. "Sun"... more likely "Son"... there are out
there and others!)
But I am sure in one that for 1 year they say somewhere there in about words.. .
After all words = sentence = sentences = texts = pages. But in their case it s
something flying not written down.
Probably films/series.. As for books I still don t have theory... They are like
chess... you have everything as details... only the speech is left and the chess
players... and the most important part is knowing who is first and second.. 1st
= White, 2nd =Black... Probably and real life is like that. But somebody else i
s pulling the strings.
But we all know what happens... to be honest with someone means that one day whe
n you go to bed you won t wake up... or one day when you wake up you will see th
at you have a lot of enemy... (But it s 2016, you already know that... it s the
basics of life and survival)... Or even If you wake up without friends. If = Not
Possible
If = Possible = Killer.... which as a task mean if you become a killer... you kn
ow since you started... and now you are master you gonna become a victim soona..
. So paranoia comes to control your whole life... Even you can be a victim in
the hands of your students... Or enemy.. Or you will know that your days are cou
nted...
If = Possibility = Childhood = Same = Place, it means that you live a life of re
petition... to be honest almost 18 years... I am staying here... where my mother
grew...her sister also... her daughter also .. and now "I".
But even removing this above tasks... just to be more easy... for reading and un
derstanding... you could wake up in illusion... you even could wake up one day i

n heaven and say "What a nightmare... and it was so long..."...


What "If" you find out that God is the right and the left side... Hell and Heave
n - Tell me did that changed you as a character.
What will happen if you find out that you want to stop something... like alchoho
l or drugs... or films watching... Or non stop staying on your computer (After
all some of them create great depression and anxiety) - But here it s my "Horror
"... study on human behavior... it s not too long and it isn t too complex... We
just dive under the water few times.. to have fast look... to see what s deep d
own in the ocean and then we get out. If I am wrong...it s... my problem.. (As f
or honesty... the 1 video or the second 2 = music was bad... As for the 3... it
s kind of ...in it s own way better.)... However, it s not possible to don t kno
w!?... That if you are a the problem, you aren t the solution.
But you know old habits are comfort zone.. so that explain... why you go baco, b
ut what confuses me that I can t understand why I can kill a pig... which is fat
... and it s legal and why I can t kill a fat human... If I kill him... first I
am a killer... second a murder... third cannibal... If I start eating him/her An
d and as last it s illegal.
And as a End why a water in glass.. . Isn t ocean or river or lake??... and why
outside from your house... Or inside...And If... it s more than a glass of water
... cup of water... bowl of water.. bucket of water... it s a pool???

BackFire Effect
An interesting psychological word, it s a word which means... No Matter whay I s
ay... Facts or something else about against your opinion about any topic... you
think that you are more and more right.
James and Dean
James: I hate sex... so useless... even if you train as a boxer and making at ho
me sex with your wife or girlfriend... it makes you at some places very weak. An
d even it s nothing different than jerkoff... What s a pussy?? - just Nobody...
after all to be honest... we really don t know really does down between women le
gs is "Pussy"... Who has said that it s "Pussy".. I can call it "Slutter" or "Cl
utter" or "Cussler"... Or whatever... that I have said that doesn t mean that it
really means that..
Relationship are nothing... everything is just going like sex buddies...
Dean: Wtf.. .Wtf... I can here point you something... Sex isn t useless.. If if
sex didn t existed you wouldn t be here...however and I..
James: So what... I don t see any big deal of that.. now wanting to control our
minds... our dreams... our choices... and privacy is privilege.
Dean: Off.. off here is difficult to debate!
As boxer probably is a fact... But... but your generation and survival... is cou
nting on your dick and one woman = hole... the hole in front of her...

James: Pfff... big deal!


Dean: Sex is all about love.. .that why you get married...
James: And what s love??? Can you explain me... kissing???
I could kiss a BIATCH.. . Whore... prostitute.. But but this doesn t mean that I
love her...
I could fuck them... again doesn t mean that I love them.
Dean: Hjjhu... But in marriage you have engage ring.
James: So what... I could give it to my BIATCH and to say to her to play a role
= wife or my affair... you Dean forgot to point that there are and papers which
are signed...
Dean: Kind of right.. but yeah I forgot to point that fact... with the papers.
James: For God Sake it s fucking... paper.. I can get from a shop some 25 or 100
pages... and to sign before fucking...
Dean: But there is the church guy... Who makes the marriage official.
James: And the BIATCH or the prostitute could go official... few videos on the n
et... and SOMEBODY playing the church guy...
Dean: No Comment
James: If you don t know life is about roles... as much you can play as better y
ou become..
Dean: However, words are words... that s how you are coded.
James:This could explain the pervert people... they are just coded like that...
nothing else...
Dean: Pfff.. . PFFF DON t change the topic..
..
James: Tell as much shit you want...but ...
Dean:... So I can t convice you... can I?
James: Nope, you can t!

Me und Doubt
Me on stupidity!
I really don t know how to call this... is it paranoia... Or part of depression.
. . Or some kind of outcasty or FUCKING syndrome or who knows. Let s get over it
!
Have you ever had "Wonder" feature... a feature which makes you ask... "Are you
pretty fast on words.."... "Do you wanting too much"... "Is it suppose to be th
is right... in right direction.."... "Who is right... is my grand/mother/father
or mother and father right here or wrong...!?"... "Is it a great Idea to start w
ith... bonjour" ( Which from French translated to English means = Hello)... Or t
o start with "Hallo".. ( From Germany to English again it means = Hello)
Or to start with "Hey"... But it sounds kind of bitchy... like ... "Hey.. hey
.. what a big dick..."... "Hey, Hey can I suck your dick..."
(It kind of reminds me for Mia Khalifa... a Pornstar in a lot of sites number on
e... also nice ass and ugly face... starts her career as Pornstar at age 18...)

But even saying ""... ( - If I am right something like that on Russian is "Hello"
n ""...(On language BG.. PRETTY SURE THAT THIS MEANS "Hello")
- If it s about sounds... I am pretty sure that by itself in their own way - the
y sound strange.
So my questions are, am I wrong? And Am I on the right direction?

Sex
Oh,Oh once I think I was here... it was along time ago... I didn t went far... B
ut I could go to the shop, couldn t I?
My Germany teacher said "If you talk too much about sex... it means that you can
t make it".... - Wow, wow bullshit... you think that we can t?...... open your
FUCKING mouth for daily milk... from my dick bitchy teacher... As for breakfast.
.. As for lunch suck my balls and as for dinner sucking your feet after 1.... 2.
.. 3.... 4... times feetjobs.
Depression in pressure, fear as primal.. dear friend.
"So far what I see... he hasn t got a big dick"
(Laugh...laugh)...- Germany teacher joke!
- How to don T LAUGH? IF U DON T WANT THIS JOKE TO REPEATED... IT S KIND OF OCCU
PATION HAZARD...
(Of... did I said that on loud... does SOMEBODY knows my thoughts of killing SOM
EBODY?? ?.. Or my brain is making tricks?)
But what do you want from older teacher as a joke... some dead jokes... sign tha
t they are still alive and putting signature on their coffin... coffins.
But what s idea of blowjob... my wife can do it... my girlfriend can do it... a
whore.... a prostitute can do it??? - So they love me???... I mean all of them?
Or what are the differences...
Between a whore and prostitute?... A girlfriend and wife...???
The way they play with their tongue?... the way I own them... the first 2 are fo
r 2-3 hours time... and the second 2... are forever....!?
-Bullshit
BULLSHIT

BULLSHIT

BULLSHIT

But if we look women shape... God has made them perfect for sex... not only they
have hole... which is big = pussy in their body... but they have feet/Foot and
legs... which are very stretchy... and the stuff which can do with a dick... are
likely you are going to heaven.... they just give you few hours a journey to he
aven....
But what does it make them normal?.... eating semen?? ???. More likely eating ba
bes.. .1 state before they got born....they have boobs.. something like pussy...
But it s out.... not inside of their body.... they have feet which get s full o
f cum.. . Which they duck out of their feet and foot... they get cumshots on the
ir faces... mainly from their cocky philosophy.
"Using the face like pussy"... But in the end that in the feet is 1... 2.... 3..
.. 4.... 5... baybes.. . Also in their face there is again something like that =
baybe/ baybes.. . So if you have baybe why you don t suck her/his body... the w
hole????...I mean like a cat to act???... Because logically a baybe is something
bigger and semen is something more in quantity and quality... and microscopycal
ly... there is a baybe.
They have lips... - women... however and men, but why?
Kissing a dick after a blowjob... but there isn t anything blowy in that... just
a job of mouth... in which a dick dick as code as a virus or not... get s inser
ted....
(OFF...Still nowhere)

Chapter Limit
It s A Chapter Limit. Do you feel it do you feel the limits when you can t get out
or move you think about it but you can t execute it. It s like a command which is
not correct written.
But I am sure somewhere in your code there is a limit you don t see it feel it. Bu
t one day from the shallow it go on the top. Like hell and heaven.

You feel it and now bored is something near to limit in life . boring as overall i
n this overall road it s a FUCKING limit.

When you can t find something, can t feel something, can t get in that crowd. Th
at s a limit that s your own limit.
Knowning something is or nothing or not enough means a limit.

Perfect Mother
Probably sounds like a dream.. romance or who knows we both as overall have diff
erent understanding of family and even and mother. You don t know what I am goin
g to talk. Is it about irony to go so on the top that the people under me will d
ie from not having supply air or who knows?
Negative or Positive?
Me in as a background: I am guy - male who has moved for 1st time in a new schoo
l from 1 up to 7 even elementary school I was in 1 school after 7 grade I moved i
n a new school as for patterns 44 - 23 = 21. VERY Very confusing what s more confu
sing my dad died 44 years old, mostly likely suicide proffessionals don t get kil
led they kill their self but the question is what this pattern does mean 21 23 44 wha
t the fuck does it mean????
44 = My father s dead. - This slot is taken!
23
= Slot 2&3- Not Taken
21
And what s all about?????
(Mysteries mysteries and mysteries I just love it).
Confusing
What confuses me is that the person who is the best moral = A person who has slep
t with one.. with my father (I mean my mother = female as a character) a person w
ho is against for the deepest pervert stuff about sex = My mother is going to ta
lk to me about that buying me a BIATCH.. . Which I am going to fuck in her bed and
there is more very strange stuff ( I am sure that you get the image) sometimes I
feel fucked up when I have in mind thought like tell to this person to act like m
y mother to be more specific person = Woman. it gives me chills up today.
Today I had such thing like FUCKING my teacher - WT F.. . IS THE BEST suitable w
ord how TEACHER am I going to fuck for god sake?

I even take a girl or woman look as sign she wants to fuck her it s more likely w
hen she look me strange and as conclusions comes this.
How it started?
It was from a side from my mother, she started
Most likely with abuses.. she was abusing me ( I was small at that age I didn t k
new a lot of stuff probably small = stupid = stupidity, but to be honest some pe
ople grow and become people with mind others not)
But to be small doesn t mean that SOMEBODY comes from future or with magic and t
ells you everything. I started by my own self to start finding answers about thi
s just exploring!
What really happen!? It was something like 2 kisses on both chicks then very wet
and nasty kiss on my lips... I was taking that as normal, after all she is 29 ye
ars old which mean that in this her big head there is something more than a cockr
oach!?
(To be on the same topic I mean under cockroach brain)
But after time the image was getting more horrible and more and more. Like touchi
ng my private place - dick. As much I can recall, it was when I was 11 or 12 year
s old then it started something from pleasurable in a nighmare it was transforme
d
Touching first my pantsevery time before I go to sleep sometimes it happen like I
have went in bed to sleep and I am already sleeping and one moment I woke up just
from a strange feeling one moment I think.. it s dream as normal then as a nighmar
e then I put my hands right where my dick is and I feel something wet and then I
open I just see her there in the darkwith lights out long red hair both chicks kind of
hot most of the details I was founding them by touching her touching her face I kn
ew one if my mother can betray meso and my mind was on the same track
After all if there is PLEASURE.. .. hot. Sexy. And good sucker my mind doesn t give
a fuck... But I had last chance using my hands after all they probably don t bet
ray or they will do?
But what was strange was if I have pissed myself or .. is there something like s
emen on
my pants
It even depended on her mood sometimes with 5-6 times in a day she was doing tha
t first putting the lamp on and gives me chance to watch how she shakes her ass th
en she licks her fingers one at a time one after another I mean the whole fingers a
nd watching me right in my face and she is very near to me and then when she fini
sh sucking her fingers and they are enough wet using as advantage her finger nai
ls she puts her fingers one by a time inside my pants and slowly touching my dic
k.. her hand and starts touching my cock making it very wet with her licked finge
rs
(Sounds strange but my father gone when I was 7 Under gone I mean he is dead sin
ce I was 7)
Sometimes she had the habbit making it FUCKING dirty by sucking my cock and slap
ping me and even sometimes I was sleeping with her pussy in front of me and stand

ing in such position so to can look it Even in her mouth was my dick sleeping with
this the awesome was I never needed to go to the toilet. Mainly from that she sa
id to me "If there is emergency with your dick you know where to do it"
I even started while she is sleeping to jerkoff and she wakes up there is so much
sperm that she takes it like a fact and she always say to me
- "I am a BIATCH.. . Soona I am going to be your BIATCH... so teach me and I want
more and more and more of your dick in my mouth.".. - She talks about herself
She had big nails .. probably that s how I know who to choose. I remember how sh
e wasn t giving me to play with her she was saying
"Nott now, sweety you are too young for that you can t do it".
From me just open mouth and watching her there wasn t even answer if there is answ
er from her.. what s the reason to ask?

-Kind of Confusing!
Sometimes I was playing with my dick when she saw me she said..
"MAMAMA WILL BE happy if you don t do leave this work to me"

Even sometimes which was rare she was saying that "To play with your dick is GEY
ISH YOU AREN T A GAY YOU SIT AND RELAX I AM GOING TO FINISH THE WORK"

When I become 17 my mother was very happy with me and I started feeling more okay a
fter all I have a woman I could ask her and to marrie to me or who knows what mor
e. but as for now she is saying
"Good morning sweety... remove your pants.. "
"REALLY"
It was amazing on my 17 I was FUCKING my mother and if sex was going to be amazi
ng I probably could be free from school
It started very gEntle she really knew how to make my dick.. .. As wood sitting o
n it and jumping on it and shaking ass.
When I cum in her ass she was putting her fingers and slowly licking her ass
she started sitting wit her naked as on my dick. First she made a blowjob just to
make the dick wet... I said to her that I wanted to piss.. . She said If you wa
nt puss in my ass it was difficult at first but I made it her ass was wet I said to
her if she could put her glasses and to make a blowjob. "SURE SWEETY, AS you wis
h and she started slow doing the blowjob...

Stories FRom DeYtH Banger world

All around the overall world. the continue you cant find it anywhere
Write and Overall
I want share that truth hurts but if you are full of lies. In the end we both kn
ow where you go.
Writing can help a lot of with emotions, but what will happen if emotion go in l
evel "You can t control"!?
I am really fucked up... sometimes confuse others out of level understanding.. .
- OKAY THAT BIATCH OR THAT MAN WAS TALKING ABOUT SOMETHING BUT I COULDN T UNDER
STAND IT... I BET THAT THE FACTS WERE AWESOME BUT I HAD TO DO FEW BACK S TO BE
ON TRACK... THIS FUCKING TEACHER GOES OVER ON EXERCISE 4 WEEKS AND DO AS MUCH PO
SSIBLE STUFF AS MUCH CAN BE DONE... EVEN THIS BROKEN ENGLISH IN SCHOOL... FUCKS
ME UP.... GRAMMMAR...GRAMMAR FUCKING FUCKING GRAMMAR.. I DON T MY OWN NATIVE LAN
GUAGE GRAMMAR AND TO TALK ABOUT THIS LANGUAGE GRAMMAR... GIVE IT AGAIN AND AGAI
N BUT REMEMBER... AS MUCH YOU REPEAT IT AS MUCH I HATE IT MORE AS MUCH I WON T
STUDY IT MORE... THE SURGEON LOST MY INTEREST... SO MUCH DETAILS LIKE READING RE
CIPE OF A PRODUCT WITH PURPOSE TO BE DONE AS MUCH LONG AS POSSIBLE - screaming..
.. pretty confuse most people answer on this like "It s the way how they talk"
...but I will answer... I am not screaming... I am writing peacefully... even I
am dead REMEMBER that here I am 11 grade ... age 17.. and in the overall world
which is that in which I am writting I continue that... As for the screaming...
you are reading in scream so If you are screaming... can you share and te ll me
Why?
To be odd and creative friends... be honest with me... I will be honest with you
... so here it s my turn...I want to tuck dead body of female... I want to be co
ld. So if somebost whi you know and it s gender she .. and have of course pussy
and hot face... and she is dead PLEASE call me... I want to be really freezaaaa.
I know that humanity is upgrading scream as for information... the nation is pre

tty ignorant as for now here is something which you can do... Type.... TYPE.....
TYPE....
I am Man of my word... jerkoff is my addiction...btw when is about stress,depres
sion,hot,cold in the end the result is pretty confuse to think.... take it as ve
ry fucked up to think and you feel guilt to be honest. So please report... that
if you don t end this story.... I am going to kill ya..... I know where you live
.... age.... name.....

.....
Hahahahaha.... it deserve this to do... what a face.... you should see you face.
...
Btw, I am joking!

Care
I don t care about my character I live in my character with posOrion "I don t ca
re".

Ask
Why to ask... After all it s all about not about the money... more about the dat
a....
Books
I have so much collected so much said that you don t have so much hair on your h
ead.
School
Just screws you up... As a character.. ... Let s try your favourite game... but
this time I take the main role... I will ignore you... so start saying stuff....
. and what I am going to do is to act in state "Don t care"... and "Fuck Off"...
..
.....
....,.....
Do you feel the pain!?

(Part 2 - Someone as Overall)

Sharing
Sharing... sharing what!? lies or truth... rights or honesty - Very suspicious a
s non senseless human being! Here is a fast thought
"I hate you"... wow - 12 are now out from this chat but we can be even... I wan
na this people back.
"I AM VEry skeptical, my books sucks and stories" - Sounds like we are even... +
12 back ....but why do you make this noises?
Whatever... it s your private zone..., I am not selfish.... but let s talk about
me...I have a strange feeling... first of all I can t stop. That s who am I. Bu
t I want read not "Past"... But "Now"... So how do you do it...!?
As for me if seconds ( in rough way said) have been passed ... like 1.... 2... i
t means "now" is over... so for you what s now??
Something more than few seconds??? Something more than few minutes!????? Somethi
ng more than few hours..... something more that few days??????
-Honesty, as recipe I am glad that I have specific type of choosing women... spe

cific data I need so to take a woman my bed. Sounds like somebody s code - Here
once and forever to be right.... But If I did a mistake... then it s kind of fuc
ked up.. . A suicide is a great idea... following my father s lead. After all 44
years on this Planet... living are a lot of....
I am very curious how much time did you spend sleeping... probably two times on
ce from night up to morning and then from afternoon up to night... something lik
e 22:00 - 7:30..... 15:00-18:00. -Pretty impressive from 3 times up to 4-5 times
eating in a day - Max. As for now I am kind of glad that you didn t knew me...
but Why do I know that and that!???... Do I keep it in silence??? Or what???...

Silence is wise thing probably... Soona I am going to use a gun with muzzle to c
lear my vision... to take myself out of my misery - But still = "Boom, Boom, Boo
m, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom,..." There isn t any FUCKING mystery just Boom and that s all... so far I like puzzl
es... I like mysteries I like kind of math if I have as possibility in my brain
-Recall.... recall.... recall... recall the FUCKING information. I like riddles.
.. specific music like you...But before that
- Wake up..
ng the same
ormation...
4,5 and 6"

.. wake up.... wake up... everything is with reason recall it... doi
as daily... = Nothing random... I like random numbers and random inf
but not having random is "One,Two and Three".... "Why not to add and
- Just for strength... nothing else -Are you confused!?

We are here with reason to share, or not???


Rules are mein?
If... OKAY.. .
1. If you are girl and you are hot... remove your pants
2. Not for gays
3. I wanna fuck you biatch - I mean a girl.
Forms
What if a woman by it s own soul is man... man are pervert... this explain every
thing... logically ...FUCKING a woman in the mouth is most likely blowjob from
a man... Hmmm???
Did I made you think?
No!?
Let s dig deeper in conclusion as for Green Grendery or whomever is my FUCKING n
ew teacher I wanna a bitcha a knife in your throat... I wanna see you suffering,
If = Possibility you are late for god sake... if you want lights out... I can d
o a kind of paintfully and forever damage by removing your eyes balls!????
-Wanna???
- Still silent like GreenHollyWood, I am not impressed, should I be?
But still I don t have memories of slicing your brain for silence... or I have d
one it.... Hey Mr.... tell something .... Come On....haaaaa....Come On..... Haas

.. ..Come On..... booooooo.... Come On.... Come on...... haaa.. .


I am serial killer.... Come On.... Come on... no move nothing.... nothing.......
Off...I miss this fucking jokes... ops I don t miss them. I miss your screamin
g mainly I like your security of your system... how it reacts....

Aaaaaaaaaa..... then oooooookllk... -Pretty impressive as being able .. as possi


bility of ability of being human or humanoid!?
... Off dead like dead... whatever!?
...
What if the real form of woman is being outside a man and inside a woman... not
very accepted from the people this feature... But the other is outside woman and
inside a man - Leaving a Confusion to blow your mind forever and ever as loop.

Short Stories
On short stories, now is going to come short stories with (Series - Name ((Deepe
r Level #1) )... Don t forget to follow me on social media like
Twitter: https://twitter.com/GordanFreem
- You can find there, pictures, quotes, movies which I am going to watch or I ha
ve watched, or which "Now" I am watching. Awesome app s which I am using,
books and many other stuff.
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14928754.Deyth_Banger
- Great Site... read few books add them there and you "Auto" going to get sugge
stions for what next to read, what you don t like you just click "Not INterest"
and you can find the best.... But don t forget to put your favourite genres and
as for good choices to get... read something which you think is great.
- As for now follow them on Goodreads... you gonna see all my works which I have
written, I have read and even my favourite quotes, authors and even quotes from
me.

Fresh Mind
Keep on the track of reading... don t stop and now and after...
- Dark Places
by Gillian Flynn *

It s difficult to give a rate in case that there were features 5 out of


5 and featuresd 4 out of 5 and features 2 or 3 out of 5... which in the end both
can change dramatically the rating of the book.
I could give 3 and a half but if there isn t such possibility... but if it s abo
ut a nice and not very scary story and to be enjoyable I can poin this story. It
s well written!
4 stars out of 5 = My Rate!
- 113 Minutes
by James Patterson (Goodreads Author), Max DiLallo
"Then the presidential bandits head for the entrance.
Holy shit, I think. We pulled off step one!
Outside, the coast looks clear. Hank is just rolling up in the black Taurus.
The vehicle that was supposed to be my sons first rideis now our getaway car.
I push open the banks door.Were so close.
When I hear behind us a trembling voiceand the chambering of a bullet."
James Patterson said... that If the book doesn t makes you to get interested...
if there isn t something new/ to be learn... so there isn t reason to continue..
. I went very far... but somehow I lost interest....
....
- Probably one star out again.
....
To keep your mind fresh... a book is a good idea for that and a word like "Thank
you" is another great example. Today people you see them on the street or at sc
hool but in the end... nobody wants to get out from his comfort zone... jokes...
- Ok.... but another step out there isn t...
But this book could do something more... I am sure about that.
....

...
"...And his friends loved Alex right back. Sometimes, when hed have a few pals st
ay the night, Id creep down the hall and stand outside his bedroom door. Not to e
avesdrop, just to hear them laugh.
Is there any sound more perfect to a parents ear than her child expressing joy...
"
"....Were gearing up for our hit on Golden Acres. But this time, we wont be going

in wearing president masks. Just the mugs we were born with.


Completely unarmed, too.
Good Lord, Debbie says with a laugh. Is this what I have to look forward to?
Shes finishing Hanks makeup. Her husband actually shaved the top of his head, to m
ake it look like he was balding, and topped it off with a pair of fake Coke-bott
le glasses. She holds her compact mirror out so Hank can see for himself.
DamnI look just like Pa, he says, blinking in disbelief.
Our father died of a heart attack a few years back at the age of sixty-seven. Ha
nks not even forty. But in this disguise, the resemblance is spooky...."
"...As I continue my search, I hear a horse stomping and braying in a nearby pen
. I know I dont really have the time, but something about the sound just calls to
me.
Part of me still has a sixth sense for animals in distress, an instinct I picked
up as a teenager when I used to ride. A friend of my fathers, named Angus, owned
a few horses on a farm a couple of miles away. Hed let me exercise them, as long
as I cleaned and fed them and swept the stable.."
Were gonna hunt yall down! Im gonna hunt yall down for this!
"But last night felt different. I couldnt just keep lying there"
- Sometimes we find that life is short 8 seasons could be a number like 30 years
.... 80 years also.

"Trinity"
- sounds like the killer from Dexter - The Trinity Killer.
- Sometimes Repetition is... like hell... so I want out of limit... out of hell.
..
- Telling... something to SOMEBODY... to be a change... it s useless...
"...But then, my brother and my might-as-well-be-my-brother reappearcarrying a le
ather bag the size of a violin case. They rejoin us. They unzip it.
Inside is a cache of high-tech assault rifles fit for a team of Navy SEALs..."
- A story by itself already told probably if thought = -1 star.
3 stars out of 5 = Mein Rate
- $10,000,000 Marriage Proposal
by James Patterson (Goodreads Author), Hilary Liftin (Goodreads Author)
"Hahaha... up to Chapter 8... and it blowes my mind... well written."
"If it s about data - I really lost my words!
...
As for now I can say is bad work... after all one staras overall. If it s someth
ing boring, it s a fact... I leave it.
...
But what s Thriller??
Something like drill...?

Or what something like 2-3 genres in one place??


- Kind of confusing!"

"There is more than you see in the shallow."

"Black and white or whatever. The same or not.... but whatever.


100,000,000 is awesome choice. For max up to 2-3 weeks you can
. As always you need something with which to focus on something
s shown the women world. How they talk... what they talk about.
sting place to enter - Entering Women Logic!"

If you are bored


finish this book
else, here it wa
So that s intere

Notes
"It was six pages long and reminded her of the online dating profiles shed helped
friends create now and then. The top of the form had a number of basic question
s about her appearance, educational background, religion, and lifestyle. Then ca
me the more open-ended"
"Brendan laughed. I know it. A bit crazy, right? Thank you for bearing with it. O
kay, so the reason Im asking is simply because the way we talk about love says so
much about how we see ourselves and what we hope for in life. In some ways we a
re driven to repeat our relationships. We are attracted to the same qualities. W
e make the same mistakes. We make choices that are reactions to what weve learned
in the past. When you talk about an important relationship, its a good way for m
e to absorb all this stuff about you. There was a sparkle in his eye. Plus, I migh
t learn the way into your heart."
"Ive always saidkids hate school and adults hate work. Thats where we go wrongmaking
work into a chore. We need to find our passions.
Right! Except of course there are jobs it would be very hard to love. I mean, per
sonally I would hate being a sanitation worker, Suze said."
"Thousands of dollars, you say? eBay here I come! Caroline grinned"
And I come and with notes from my progress, but still I won t change my opinion
4 out 5 is my rate. Still it s not the best...
But jokes aren t forgotten, the humor is still out here. James Patterson, didn t
totally ruin this book, but what fascinates me and it will be interesting... is
Stephen King Opinion on this here work or on the author James Patterson.
As for soap, I don t like soap films... if something is going to be made let s b
e pertext or almost not made something which under this.

Here what can be found, first of all some lessons and as second always can help
keeping your mind fresh. It s impresive James so old on age and such great mind.
"No matter what else had gone on and would go on surrounding their meeting, they
were still just two people who hadnt met each other, and in that simple equation
there was a whole world of possibility."
"I havent been a total hermit. Ive tried to date. But it never seemed to work out.
Maybe someone else could appreciate this kind of success by himself, without a p
artner, but thats not how Im wired. Love is the most important part of life."
"This ten-million-dollar thing was a crazy scheme. But there was always a possib
ility that it could work, that I would meet the right woman. And if it worked, i
t would all be worth it. So that brings the two of us to the present, right here
, right now."
- Darkly Dreaming Dexter (Dexter #1)
by Jeff Lindsay
5 out of 5 stars = Mein Rate
- Probably I thought that killing other people which are out of your family is i
nsane... but killing your family ... here is insane... so sad so awesome going w
ith so much mystery and in the end what?
Just killing his own brother.... OMG!
- The Scattered and the Dead (Book 0.5)
by Tim McBain *
4 out of 5 stars = Mein Rate
- Interesting way of making this book, so far I enjoy it listening to it
!

Aluien
Naah, I double check it s not "Alien" it s "Aluien".As a background I am male, wi
th big and large cock to be honest?
I am from the planet Aluien and I am 15 years old Alien. I have a lot of dreams
these days but here I am going to put one and to go as overall. My first dream is
to study your race understand it like whitish black and yellowish. To be more acc
urate and you to understand me well read this carefully.

(I am naked now, I lied being male mainly from my second dream which is to have c

ock. I have always wanted to be male, it s so awesome. First of all you are on t
he top if you ask me we play BIATCH and playboy. You will be the guy who is up or
relaxing and I am doing the FUCKING stuff making your pants wet sucking your coc
k then suckng my feet and doing so much other stuff which in the end I feel like
dirty and fillty woman which doesn t have confidence.
If you see me I am the woman with the blue-blonde hair, purple lipstick, with pi
ercings on my tongue (wait and wait one by one I am going to explain everything)
and my pussy. I wear T-Shirt with text "I am FUCKING cunt" the text is with litt
le effect and white colour as background and I like to put a lot of make up on m
y face also and hight heels I like to have on my feet but to be colour red
So let s go on the other stuff don t put me as gender shemale it s not bad once
a shemale fucked me in the pussy it wasn t bad sex, but I am not such type. I am
real female!
Also as for the piercing.. I put it because of the blowjob it makes the blowjob
incredible and I get extra money. As for the pussy and I want feel something.. c
an t I?
So here is how I do it, I like to be slow. I more like first to be on the table
laying and a man to suck my pussy I like orgasm. When I get it second level comes
he sucks all my juice and then he start playing with my titsI like drinking my ow
n milk or milk dick to go in my mouth as for now I can say I am very dirty BIATC
H I have thin body and big and large boobs .. As for age you should know that I ha
ve 18.

But being BIATCH means a woman without mind probably, I am such type who knows.
I like sperm to be on my whole body it s incredible feeling. I like also and dick
s to kiss I am the girl which takes 4 cumshots and gives a kiss. I like the sperm
to be over my lips. I like also to be on my pussy and ass. I DON T GIVE A SHIT
ABOUT SAFETY)
OFF look a guy I want to kill him. Not to kill him but most likely to torture him s
o I am going to make him to come after me just by playing little dirty
Hahaha... he took it that s called an idiot I just dropped my bra and he found it an
d he is after me
I am going to make him to be mine.
He was going after me and in his hands there was a bra after few seconds he said
"Hey miss miss you dropped this"
- And he showed the bra
I said
"Oh thanks sweety"
- And touching his cock slowly
Then I said
"Ohh..DO YOU have car"

He asked
"WHY"
I answered
"I am little drunk I want to go home safety.. And I am little bored..And now my
pants are very wet!"
Then I made a bubble gum balloon and then
"OKAY COME WITH ME"
.
We were going to the car and I non stop was touching his cock he was non stop rem
oving my hands.

Then we entered the car and I started making his dick easy acessable.. . While m
aking bubble balloons.. when it was ready I started sucking it slowly and kissing
it It was slowly getting wet he even made a first cumshot.

.
Off.. . What pervert mind I am not a woman I lied I wanted to see how much focused
you are but I should cut few fingers
- uni
- mini
- to

"AHAAAAAAAA" To be honest I took one human and I wanted study it s fears and face s
o far this scream sounds like. He is getting big cock in the ass.
To be honest I have four fingers as for now can you give me you r adress to send
you one.
As for now I AM working on survillant system 7.0 which is the best and as for no
w as a alien I want to study every reaction done by you.

Piece and Piece


So I will be polite and I will start with Hello, after all this message is from
the future and the previous what you have read is a bit older. First of all my d
ad died, - I gonna start one by one, piece by piece like the series Person Of In
terest and Lost, the 1st ( which means person of interest), I just finished it b
efore few days, it s sad that I finished it so fast, but out there, there many o
ther worlds which aren t explored... I have explored in rough way 1199 data, sho
rt stories and helpful source on YouTube, however to don t miss 217 books I have
read so far up to now 24.09.2016. I am kind of sad that my father is dead, but
my face can t get sad - so I am inside sad. However and realising that this abov
e numbers are nothing that you have 1 GB or 12 GB - awesome for you but from my
perspective it s nothing 100 TB is something what is going to blow my mind.
My father are suicided, no letter left, what I take... banks gonna take it... so
after all the present from him is a mouse which It just stopped working on the
computer, a phone which is going to die. As for now I am on a new the old one I
have it from 2 years... It was Samsung Galaxy S3 Mini... Now I am with some kind
of Samsung which is 2015 year made... J5. But what am I talking!?
Who are you to give you my data for my world... Isn t it strange... what I wante
d to say one more time or few more times... I have already said that... even the
crazy parts are that 7 or 8 Volumes I just made in The Life of One Kid... I nev
er had a image that my father one day or few years later I am going to lose him
like that... yeah he is alcoholic, sometimes mad and crazy who knows from which
game which he is playing. Is it the game real world... on the way the time... th
e boss who kills everyone in the end... ( Repeating is very helpful.... it impro
ve memory let s give a try to make a new circle shall we?)
who knows in which game he was and what he was playing was it from games music,
films and so on and so on... or something else. But what I see is important...
we are nowhere but we have went very deeper, didn t we!?
But still it doesn t answer why wise and clever person won t leave a message. Go
odbye is a nice end... I have kind of paranoia on what to say as a end and as a
start... if you say "Bye". It kinda sound like it s forever. - You understand me
or not!?
To be honest, after few volumes or after this volume you are going to leave me a
lone, won t you. I am afraid of staying alone in the dark, who knows who in the
fucking world is going come out of there, that I have in my pocket 1199 videos a
nd 217 books?
It s a small light which won t last longer!
(Probably I should be glad that now I have speed up tech... I feel incredible.)

Honesty is important, I will be honest I have problems with books... with choosi
ng too much with the mindset that is small, with the videos the same problem. Ev
en I feel now that you don t care what I tell who knows where are you... but I w
as in the Mall, bus, train, underground... and many other vehicles. The essentia
lly is that we both know that you are reading this for losing time. On games you
ask me how am I so good at them... but on Skype you are silent and you ignore m
e. So tell me a reason why not to block you?
First of all you ignore me, second don t care, third you go in such details like
you want we to meet - For god sake there is a line in cyber world is cyber, soc
ial world is social.
You go like you are the only one who was sad, like you have only this problems..
. tell me to go on!?
- Yes or No
First time
...
No answer!
.....
- Yes or No
Second time....
...
....
No answer...
Is there reason to continue?
We both know that you won t answer You said "yes"... but the rules are mein... I
can change them every time when I want, I have money... so as overall what s th
e feeling not having chance to do something... to be freezed?
Btw, my name in cs is Freeezaaa!

Diaries

Diary but what s the purpose of them. I haven t ever had a such thing, probably
now gnotes have possibility to be some kind of diary. As overall it should be so
mething full of daily notes... like "Who I like".. "How he/she looks like"... "K
illing thoughts"... probably something like GoodReads, FaceBook and Twitter. But
more private. (Privacy is great word isn t it!? So far on Alan s book What s my
Purpose... I am on 134 page out of 1111.)
I will be honest, this time I won t be jerk probably some people like my irony..
. but it s like hacking one day I am going to go in hell of a lot of troubles.
But If I am killer, that s who I am - Why to change myself... why? That you don
t like me I should change myself?
(Btw, I just finished Stranger Things serie Season 1... sadly Limitless serie it
s one season... but the awesome thing is that Rob Duke has made a YouTube chann
el with incredible videos like Anatomy Of Murder, which I just finished today. A
wesome killers!)
If I am hacker, ... I still don t see what will be my Purpose of being this stat
e. But let s give a try shall we?
- Probably doing it for money like
Hacking banks, making viruses, ruining people s life s. - Who knows!?
- Probably fighting with purpose privacy... which will mean my emails, mails, gm
ails and other such type of stuff to be private my information to not be sold to
stranger.
...
We go so deeper, I even lost up to where am I... But I see something... where yo
u love now and where you read now there is light... it s morning probably 12:30
, or something like that but as for it s 22:03..., sadly might and school is on
the way. ( I have a lot of ideas... topics which to write about, but my mind is
with speed 20000 and I am slow ): ): .)
It just pop up in my mind!
I started when I was 13 or 14 a diary but after few days I just left it. I just
found it useless, losing my time and afraid if losing data, somebody reading it
and so on and so on. But you here 20% there is to know me and even could be lowe
r as %. After all I won t reveal myself. What suprises me a lot of is why do we
try to act as it is said somewhere. You have this sign.... so you are going to b
e that, going to act like that and you don t have luck. And for his sake who are
you to tell me I won t be that, I won t go there, I won t have luck??
I won t be an a actor, writer??
And even telling me where to go!?
Another impressive thing is when you found that what you but you use it max up t
o 2 - 3 weeks and then you leave it.
Present!?

- You have reached up to here... and I think after so much reading you deserv a
reward??? What will you say about give you the best authors or best sellers free
???
Just download and then you read???
From here you can download it
Download #1
- http://www.filedropper.com/present1
Download #2
- http://www.megafileupload.com/c5lm/Present__1.zip
(Little info... I will give few "#"... if you can t download from the 1... or th
e second to have more choices... and Enjoy)
Download #3
- http://jmp.sh/PpKijtt

World s Best-Selling Author James Patterson On How To Write An Unputdownable Sto


ry

They call it beach readingthe kind of ultra-accessible mass market paperback that
nestles inside canvas bags all summer long. (And on airplanes year-round.) Cons
idering how addictive James Patterson s books are known to be, and their inescap
able popularity, the wildly prolific author is probably directly responsible for
more sunburns than incidents of non-waterproof sunscreen.
Patterson recently earned the distinction of being the best-selling author since
2001. Just to be clear, one of the author s books wasn t merely declared "the #
1 bestseller," a blurb that pops up on front covers regularly. Rather, James Pat
terson is the top selling author in the world for the last 14 years. An estimate
d one out of every 17 hardcover novels purchased in the United States is his, dw
arfing the sales of both Harry Potter and the sparkly Twilight vampires.
The secret to this success isn t Patterson s uncommon productivity (he publishes
at least three books a year, and as many as 13) or his range (spanning thriller
s, nonfiction, children s books, and beyond). It s his colloquial storytelling s
tyle that grabs a hold of readers early on, instilling an insatiable need to kno
w what happens next. While preparing to unleash a full slate of 2014 titles, the
author recently spoke with Co.Create about how to write the kind of unputdownab
le books that cause shoulders and backs to get scorched by the sun.
WRITE STORIES THE WAY PEOPLE TELL THEM
I think what hooks people into my stories is the pace. I try to leave out the pa

rts people skip. I used to live across the street from Alexander Haig, and if I
told you a story that I went out to get the paper and Haig was laying in the dri
veway, and then I went on for 20 minutes describing the architecture on the stre
et and the way the palm trees were, you d feel like "Stop with the descriptionwha
t s going on with Haig?" I tend to write stories the way you d tell them. I thin
k it d be tragic if everybody wrote that way. But that s my style. I read books
by a lot of great writers. I think I m an okay writer, but a very good storytell
er.
MAKE IT AN EXPERIENCE
I try to put myself in every scene that I m writing. I try to be there. I try to
put the kind of detail in stories that will make people experience what the cha
racters are experiencing, within reason.
SHORT CHAPTERS KEEP PEOPLE READING
Im a big fan of these two novels Mrs. Bridge and Mr. Bridge by Evan S. Connell Jr
. Theyre both very eloquent, but they have short chapters. And then Jerzy Kosiski
wrote a few books like The Painted Bird and Steps that have very short chapters
and I just love that style. Its a style I evolved to. It was actually on (his 198
9 novel) Midnight Club. After I read the first 100 pages, I was planning to fles
h them out more, but then I thought, "I kind of like this." Its that more colloqu
ial style of storytelling where things really just move along. That became my st
yle.
IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE REALISTIC
I don t do realism. Sometimes people will mention that something I ve written do
esn t seem realistic and I always picture them looking at a Chagall and thinking
the same thing. You can say, "I don t like what you do, or I don t like Chagall
, or I don t like Picasso" but saying that these things are not realistic is irr
elevant.
OUTLINE LIKE YOUR BOOK DEPENDS ON IT (BECAUSE IT DOES)
I m a fanatic about outlining. It s gonna make whatever you re writing better, y
ou ll have fewer false starts, and you ll take a shorter amount of time. I write
them over and over again. You read my outline and it s like reading a book; you
really get the story, even though it s condensed. Each chapter will have about
a paragraph devoted to it. But you re gonna get the scene, and you re gonna get
the sense of what makes the scene work.
BE OPEN TO CHANGES DURING THE WRITING, THOUGH
I know what the overarching story is when I start outlining; then I just start p
utting down scenes and I don t really know what the order s going to be yet. The
ending almost always changes in the writing, though. Its because I learned to li
sten to the characters. I change things. One of the drafts I do, I ll decide tha
t okay, it went this way, but it doesn t feel very interestingwhat if this happen
ed instead of that? And rarely do I know the ending. Occasionally, but mostly no
t.
WRITE WITH CONFIDENCE, EVEN IF YOU DONT FEEL CONFIDENT YET
I have confidence that Im going to be able to tell a good story, and that hasnt al
ways been the case. I remember, I won an Edgar Award when I was 26 for Best Firs
t Mystery, and even though I knew I won, on the night of, I was worried. I felt
like there might have been a mistake. Thats the kind of lack of confidence you ca
n have early on. Youre writing this thing and you hope people like it. Youre rewri
ting and rewriting and get lost in the sauce. Confidence is a big thing.

KNOW WHO YOURE WRITING FOR AND WHAT THEY WANT


People want to be glued to the page. They want suspense, and suspense to me is a
lways about questions that you must have answered. I try to pretend that there s
somebody across from me and I m telling them a story and I don t want them to g
et up until I m finished. John Grisham always plants a really powerful hook earl
y, that question that makes you want to know what the hell is gonna happen to th
is guy or this woman. But part of it is, who are you talking to? What have you g
ot for them? Its useful that if you tell somebody in a paragraph what the story i
s and they go, "Ooh ooh, I cant wait, tell me more," as opposed to they were just
kind of nodding politely. Well, then that just puts so much stress on the writi
ng. That means that the style has to overcome the fact that you dont have much of
a story.

Now through May 5, Fast Company readers can get 45% off on James Patterson s lat
est thriller, NYPD Red 2, at Zola Books.

- so you have a present from me... if you liked probably now you want to know ho
w to write like me... I mean the places which I write about, so far here are few
tips
1.
2.
3.
4.

Watch a lot of movies


Play games
Read Short Stories
Read Books

....
P.S. - That was a crazy episode and it is a crazy episode season 2 episode 24 Castle. A mind blow game!

In one of my favorite Stephen King interviews, for The Atlantic, he talks at len
gth about the vital importance of a good opening line. There are all sorts of the
ories, he says, its a tricky thing. But theres one thing hes sure about: An opening
should invite the reader to begin the story. It should say: Listen. Come in here
. You want to know about this. Kings discussion of opening lines is compelling bec
ause of his dual focus as an avid reader and a prodigious writer of fictionhe doe

snt lose sight of either perspective:


Weve talked so much about the reader, but you cant forget that the opening line is
important to the writer, too. To the person whos actually boots-on-the-ground. B
ecause its not just the readers way in, its the writers way in also, and youve got to
find a doorway that fits us both.
This is excellent advice. As you orient your reader, so you orient yourself, poi
nting your work in the direction it needs to go. Now King admits that he doesnt t
hink much about the opening line as he writes, in a first draft, at least. That
perfectly crafted and inviting opening sentence is something that emerges in rev
ision, which can be where the bulk of a writers work happens.

Stephen Kings Top 20 Rules for Writers


Revision in the second draft, one of them, anyway, may necessitate some big changes
says King in his 2000 memoir slash writing guide On Writing. And yet, it is an e
ssential process, and one that hardly ever fails. Below, we bring you Kings top twe
nty rules from On Writing. About half of these relate directly to revision. The
other half cover the intangiblesattitude, discipline, work habits. A number of th
ese suggestions reliably pop up in every writers guide. But quite a few of them w
ere born of Stephen Kings many decades of trial and error andwrites the Barnes & N
oble book blogover 350 million copies sold, like them or loathe them.
1. First write for yourself, and then worry about the audience. When you write a
story, youre telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is takin
g out all the things that are not the story.
2. Dont use passive voice. Timid writers like passive verbs for the same reason th
at timid lovers like passive partners. The passive voice is safe.
3. Avoid adverbs. The adverb is not your friend.
4. Avoid adverbs, especially after he said and she said.
5. But dont obsess over perfect grammar. The object of fiction isnt grammatical cor
rectness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story.
6. The magic is in you. Im convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing.
7. Read, read, read. If you dont have time to read, you dont have the time (or the
tools) to write.
8. Dont worry about making other people happy. If you intend to write as truthfull
y as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.
9. Turn off the TV. TVwhile working out or anywhere elsereally is about the last th
ing an aspiring writer needs.
10. You have three months. The first draft of a bookeven a long oneshould take no m
ore than three months, the length of a season.
11. There are two secrets to success. I stayed physical healthy, and I stayed mar
ried.

12. Write one word at a time. Whether its a vignette of a single page or an epic t
rilogy like The Lord of the Rings, the work is always accomplished one word at a t
ime.
13. Eliminate distraction. Theres should be no telephone in your writing room, cer
tainly no TV or videogames for you to fool around with.
14. Stick to your own style. One cannot imitate a writers approach to a particular
genre, no matter how simple what that writer is doing may seem.
15. Dig. Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world. The writ
ers job is to use the tools in his or her toolbox to get as much of each one out
of the ground intact as possible.
16. Take a break. Youll find reading your book over after a six-week layoff to be
a strange, often exhilarating experience.
17. Leave out the boring parts and kill your darlings. (kill your darlings, kill
your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribblers heart, kill
your darlings.)
18. The research shouldnt overshadow the story. Remember that word back. Thats wher
e the research belongs: as far in the background and the back story as you can g
et it.
19. You become a writer simply by reading and writing. You learn best by reading
a lot and writing a lot, and the most valuable lessons of all are the ones you t
each yourself.
20. Writing is about getting happy. Writing isnt about making money, getting famou
s, getting dates, getting laid or making friends. Writing is magic, as much as t
he water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink.

The Stoner Arms Dealers: How Two American Kids Became Big-Time Weapons Traders
The e-mail confirmed it: everything was finally back on schedule after weeks of
maddening, inexplicable delay. A 747 cargo plane had just lifted off from an air
port in Hungary and was banking over the Black Sea toward Kyrgyzstan, some 3,000
miles to the east. After stopping to refuel there, the flight would carry on to
Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan. Aboard the plane were 80 pallets loaded with
nearly 5 million rounds of ammunition for AK-47s, the Soviet-era assault rifle
favored by the Afghan National Army.
Reading the e-mail back in Miami Beach, David Packouz breathed a sigh of relief.
The shipment was part of a $300 million contract that Packouz and his partner,
Efraim Diveroli, had won from the Pentagon to arm America s allies in Afghanista
n. It was May 2007, and the war was going badly. After six years of fighting, Al
Qaeda remained a menace, the Taliban were resurgent, and NATO casualties were r
ising sharply. For the Bush administration, the ammunition was part of a despera
te, last-ditch push to turn the war around before the U.S. presidential election
the following year. To Packouz and Diveroli, the shipment was part of a major a
rms deal that promised to make them seriously rich.

Reassured by the e-mail, Packouz got into his brand-new blue Audi A4 and headed
home for the evening, windows open, the stereo blasting. At 25, he wasn t exactl
y used to the pressures of being an international arms dealer. Only months earli
er, he had been making his living as a massage therapist; his studies at the Edu
cating Hands School of Massage had not included classes in military contracting
or geopolitical brinkmanship. But Packouz hadn t been able to resist the temptat
ion when Diveroli, his 21-year-old friend from high school, had offered to cut h
im in on his burgeoning arms business. Working with nothing but an Internet conn
ection, a couple of cellphones and a steady supply of weed, the two friends one
with a few college credits, the other a high school dropout had beaten out Fortu
ne 500 giants like General Dynamics to score the huge arms contract. With a sing
le deal, two stoners from Miami Beach had turned themselves into the least likel
y merchants of death in history.
Arriving home at the Flamingo, his sleek condo with views of the bay, Packouz pa
cked the cone of his Volcano, a smokeless electronic bong. As the balloon inflat
ed with vapors from the high-grade weed, he took a deep toke and felt the pressu
res of the day drift away into a crisp, clean high.
Dinner was at Sushi Samba, a hipster Asian-Latino fusion joint. Packouz was in e
xcellent spirits. He couldn t believe that he and Diveroli were actually pulling
it off: Planes from all over Eastern Europe were now flying into Kabul, laden w
ith millions of dollars worth of grenades and mortars and surface-to-air missile
s. But as Packouz s miso-marinated Chilean sea bass arrived, his cellphone rang.
It was the freight forwarder he had employed to make sure the ammunition made i
t from Hungary to Kabul. The man sounded panicked.
"We ve got a problem," he told Packouz, shouting to be heard over the restaurant
s thumping music. "The plane has been seized on the runway in Kyrgyzstan."
The arms shipment, it appeared, was being used as a bargaining chip in a high-st
akes standoff between George W. Bush and Vladimir Putin. The Russian president d
idn t like NATO expanding into Kyrgyzstan, and the Kyrgyzs wanted the U.S. gover
nment to pay more rent to use their airport as a crucial supply line for the war
in Afghanistan. Putin s allies in the Kyrgyz KGB, it seemed, were holding the p
lane hostage and Packouz was going to be charged a $300,000 fine for every day i
t sat on the runway. Word of the seizure quickly reached Washington, and Defense
Secretary Robert Gates himself was soon on his way to Kyrgyzstan to defuse the
mounting tensions.
Packouz was baffled, stoned and way out of his league. "It was surreal," he reca
lls. "Here I was dealing with matters of international security, and I was halfbaked. I didn t know anything about the situation in that part of the world. But
I was a central player in the Afghan war and if our delivery didn t make it to
Kabul, the entire strategy of building up the Afghanistan army was going to fail
. It was totally killing my buzz. There were all these shadowy forces, and I did
n t know what their motives were. But I had to get my shit together and put my b
est arms-dealer face on."
Sitting in the restaurant, Packouz tried to clear his head, cupping a hand over
his cellphone to shut out the noise. "Tell the Kyrgyz KGB that ammo needs to get
to Afghanistan!" he shouted into the phone. "This contract is part of a vital m
ission in the global war on terrorism. Tell them that if they fuck with us, they
are fucking with the government of the United States of America!"
Packouz and Diveroli had picked the perfect moment to get into the arms business
. To fight simultaneous wars in both Afghanistan and Iraq, the Bush administrati
on had decided to outsource virtually every facet of America s military operatio
ns, from building and staffing Army bases to hiring mercenaries to provide secur
ity for diplomats abroad. After Bush took office, private military contracts soa
red from $145 billion in 2001 to $390 billion in 2008. Federal contracting rules
were routinely ignored or skirted, and military-industrial giants like Raytheon
and Lockheed Martin cashed in as war profiteering went from war crime to busine
ss model. Why shouldn t a couple of inexperienced newcomers like Packouz and Div
eroli get in on the action? After all, the two friends were after the same thing

as everyone else in the arms business lots and lots and lots of money.
"I was going to make millions," Packouz says. "I didn t plan on being an arms de
aler forever I was going to use the money to start a music career. I had never e
ven owned a gun. But it was thrilling and fascinating to be in a business that d
ecided the fate of nations. Nobody else our age was dealing weapons on an intern
ational level."
Packouz and Diveroli met at Beth Israel Congregation, the largest Orthodox synag
ogue in Miami Beach. Packouz was older by four years, a skinny kid who wore a ya
rmulke and left his white dress shirts untucked. Diveroli was the class clown, a
n overweight kid with a big mouth and no sense of fear. After school, the pair w
ould hang out at the beach with their friends, smoking weed, playing guitar, sne
aking in to swim in the pools at five-star hotels. When Packouz graduated, his p
arents were so concerned about his heavy pot use that they sent him to a school
in Israel that specialized in handling kids with drug problems. It turned out to
be a great place to get high. "I took acid by the Dead Sea," Packouz says. "I h
ad a transcendental experience."
Returning home, Packouz drifted through two semesters at the University of Flori
da. Short of cash, he studied massage because it seemed like a better way to mak
e money than flipping burgers. Nights, he sat around with his high school buddie
s getting high and dreaming of becoming a pop star. He wrote angsty rock ballads
with titles like "Eternal Moment" but it was hard to get a break in the music i
ndustry. With a shaved head and intense blue eyes, Packouz was plenty smart and
plenty ambitious, in his slacker fashion, but he had no idea what to do with his
life.
Efraim Diveroli, by contrast, knew exactly what he wanted to be: an arms dealer.
It was the family business. His father brokered Kevlar jackets and other weapon
s-related paraphernalia to local police forces, and his uncle B.K. sold Glocks,
Colts and Sig Sauers to law enforcement. Kicked out of school in the ninth grade
, Diveroli was sent to Los Angeles to work for his uncle. As an apprentice arms
dealer, he proved to be a quick study. By the time he was 16, he was traveling t
he country selling weapons. He loved guns with a passion selling them, shooting
them, talking about them and he loved the arms industry s intrigue and ruthless
amorality. At 18, after a dispute with his uncle over money, Diveroli returned t
o Miami to set up his own operation, taking over a shell company his father had
incorporated called AEY Inc.
His business plan was simple but brilliant. Most companies grow by attracting mo
re customers. Diveroli realized he could succeed by selling to one customer: the
U.S. military. No government agency buys and sells more stuff than the Defense
Department everything from F-16s to paper clips and front-end loaders. By law, e
very Pentagon purchase order is required to be open to public bidding. And under
the Bush administration, small businesses like AEY were guaranteed a share of t
he arms deals. Diveroli didn t have to actually make any of the products to bid
on the contracts. He could just broker the deals, finding the cheapest prices an
d underbidding the competition. All he had to do was win even a minuscule fracti
on of the billions the Pentagon spends on arms every year and he would be a mill
ionaire. But Diveroli wanted more than that: His ambition was to be the biggest
arms dealer in the world a young Adnan Khashoggi, a teenage Victor Bout.
To get into the game, Diveroli knew he would have to deal with some of the world
s shadiest operators the war criminals, soldiers of fortune, crooked diplomats
and small-time thugs who keep militaries and mercenaries loaded with arms. The v
ast aftermarket in arms had grown exponentially after the end of the Cold War. F
or decades, weapons had been stockpiled in warehouses throughout the Balkans and
Eastern Europe for the threat of war against the West, but now arms dealers wer
e selling them off to the highest bidder. The Pentagon needed access to this new
aftermarket to arm the militias it was creating in Iraq and Afghanistan. The tr
ouble was, it couldn t go into such a murky underworld on its own. It needed pro
xies to do its dirty work companies like AEY. The result was a new era of lawles
sness. According to a report by Amnesty International, "Tens of millions of roun
ds of ammunition from the Balkans were reportedly shipped clandestinely and with
out public oversight to Iraq by a chain of private brokers and transport contrac

tors under the auspices of the U.S. Department of Defense."


This was the "gray market" that Diveroli wanted to penetrate. Still a teenager,
he rented a room in a house owned by a Hispanic family in Miami and went to work
on his laptop. The government website where contracts are posted is fbo.gov, kn
own as "FedBizOpps." Diveroli soon became adept at the arcane lingo of federal c
ontracts. His competition was mostly big corporations like Northrop Grumman, Loc
kheed and BAE Systems. Those companies had entire departments dedicated to selli
ng to the Pentagon. But Diveroli had his own advantages: low overhead, an appeti
te for risk and all-devouring ambition.
In the beginning, Diveroli specialized in bidding on smaller contracts for items
like helmets and ammunition for U.S. Special Forces. The deals were tiny, relat
ively speaking, but they gave AEY a history of "past performance" the kind of tr
ack record the Pentagon requires of companies that want to bid on large defense
contracts. Diveroli got financing from a Mormon named Ralph Merrill, a machine-g
un manufacturer from Utah who had worked for his father. Before long, Diveroli w
as winning Pentagon contracts.
Like all the kids in their pot-smoking circle, Packouz was aware that Diveroli h
ad become an arms dealer. Diveroli loved to brag about how rich he was, and rumo
rs circulated among the stoners about the vast sums he was making, at least comp
ared with their crappy part-time jobs. One evening, Diveroli picked Packouz up i
n his Mercedes, and the two headed to a party at a local rabbi s house, lured by
the promise of free booze and pretty girls. Diveroli was excited about a deal h
e had just completed, a $15 million contract to sell old Russian-manufactured ri
fles to the Pentagon to supply the Iraqi army. He regaled Packouz with the tale
of how he had won the contract, how much money he was making and how much more t
here was to be made.
"Dude, I ve got so much work I need a partner," Diveroli said. "It s a great bus
iness, but I need a guy to come on board and make money with me."
Packouz was intrigued. He was doing some online business himself, buying sheets
from textile companies in Pakistan and reselling them to distributors that suppl
ied nursing homes in Miami. The sums he made were tiny a thousand or two at a ti
me but the experience made him hungry for more.
"How much money are you making, dude?" Packouz asked.
"Serious money," Diveroli said.
"How much?"
"This is confidential information," Diveroli said.
"Dude, if you had to leave the country tomorrow, how much would you be able to t
ake?"
"In cash?"
"Cold, hard cash."
Diveroli pulled the car over and turned to look at Packouz. "Dude, I m going to
tell you," he said. "But only to inspire you. Not because I m bragging." Diverol
i paused, as if he were about to disclose his most precious secret. "I have $1.8
million in cash."
Packouz stared in disbelief. He had expected Diveroli to say something like $100
,000, maybe a little more. But nearly $2 million?
"Dude," was all Packouz said.
Packouz started working with Diveroli in November 2005. His title was account ex
ecutive. He would be paid entirely in commission. The pair operated out of a one
-bedroom apartment Diveroli had by then rented in Miami Beach, sitting opposite
each other at a desk in the living room, surrounded by stacks of federal contrac
ts and a mountain of pot. They quickly fell into a daily routine: wake up, get b
aked, start wheeling and dealing.
Packouz was about to get a rare education. He watched as Diveroli won a State De
partment contract to supply high-grade FN Herstal machine guns to the Colombian
army. It was a lucrative deal, but Diveroli wasn t satisfied he always wanted mo
re. So he persuaded the State Department to allow him to substitute Korean-made
knockoffs instead of the high-end Herstals a swap that instantly doubled his ear
nings. Diveroli did the same with a large helmet order for the Iraqi army, pushi
ng the Pentagon to accept poorer-quality Chinese-made helmets once he had won th

e contract. After all, it wasn t like the military was buying weapons and helmet
s for American soldiers. The hapless end-users were foreigners, and who was goin
g to go the extra mile for them?
The Pentagon s buyers were soldiers with little or no business experience, and D
iveroli knew how to win them over with a mixture of charm, patriotism and a keen
sense of how to play to the military culture; he could yes sir and no sir with
the best of them. To get the inside dirt on a deal, he would call the official i
n charge of the contract and pretend to be a colonel or even a general. "He woul
d be toasted, but you would never know it," says Packouz. "When he was trying to
get a deal, he was totally convincing. But if he was about to lose a deal, his
voice would start shaking. He would say that he was running a very small busines
s, even though he had millions in the bank. He said that if the deal fell throug
h he was going to be ruined. He was going to lose his house. His wife and kids w
ere going to go hungry. He would literally cry. I didn t know if it was psychosi
s or acting, but he absolutely believed what he was saying."
Above all, Diveroli cared about the bottom line. "Efraim was a Republican becaus
e they started more wars," Packouz says. "When the United States invaded Iraq, h
e was thrilled. He said to me, Do I think George Bush did the right thing for t
he country by invading Iraq? No. But am I happy about it? Absofuckinglutely. He
hoped we would invade more countries because it was good for business."
That spring, when mass protests broke out in Nepal, Diveroli frantically tried t
o put together a cache of arms that could be sold to the Nepalese king to put do
wn the rebellion heavy weapons, attack helicopters, ammo. "Efraim called it the
Save the King Project, but he didn t give a shit about the king," Packouz says.
"Money was all he talked about, literally no sports or politics. He would do any
thing to make money."
To master the art of federal contracts, Packouz studied the solicitations posted
on fbo.gov. The contracts often ran to 30 or 40 pages, each filled with fine pr
int and legalese. As Diveroli s apprentice, Packouz saw that his friend never re
ad a book or a magazine, never went to the movies all he did was pore over gover
nment documents, looking for an angle, a way in. Diveroli called it squeezing in
to a deal putting himself between the supplier and the government by shaving a f
ew pennies off each unit and reselling them at a markup that undercut his compet
itors. Playing the part of an arms dealer, he loved to deliver dramatic one-line
rs, speaking as if he were the star of a Hollywood blockbuster. "I don t care if
I have the smallest dick in the room," he would say, "as long as I have the fat
test wallet." Or: "If you see a crack in the door, you ve got to kick the fucker
open." Or: "Once a gun runner, always a gun runner."
"Efraim s self-image was as the modern merchant of death," says Packouz. "He was
still just a kid, but he didn t see himself that way. He would go toe-to-toe wi
th high-ranking military officers, Eastern European mobsters, executives of Fort
une 500 companies. He didn t give a fuck. He would take them on and win, and the
n give them the finger. I was following in his footsteps. He told me I was going
to be a millionaire within three years he guaranteed it."
At first, Packouz struggled to land his own deals. Bidding on contracts on fbo.g
ov was an art; closing a deal was a science. At one point, he spent weeks obsess
ing over an $8 million contract to supply SUVs to the State Department in Pakist
an, only to lose the bid. But he finally won a contract to supply 50,000 gallons
of propane to an Air Force base in Wyoming, netting a profit of $8,000. "There
were a lot of suppliers who didn t know how to work FedBizOpps as well as we did
," he says. "You had to read the solicitations religiously."
Once a week or so, the pair would hit the clubs of South Beach to let off steam.
Karaoke in a basement bar called the Studio was a favorite. Packouz took his pe
rformances seriously, choosing soulful music like U2 s "With or Without You" or
Pearl Jam s "Black," while Diveroli threw himself into power ballads and country
anthems, tearing off his shirt and pumping his fists to the music. Between song
s, the two friends would take hits of the cocaine that Diveroli kept in a small
plastic bullet with a tiny valve on the top for easy access. Packouz was shy aro
und girls, but Diveroli cut right to the chase, often hitting on women right in
front of their boyfriends.

All the partying wasn t exactly conducive to running a small business, especiall
y one as complicated and perilous as arms dealing. As AEY grew, it defaulted on
at least seven contracts, in one case failing to deliver a shipment of 10,000 Be
retta pistols for the Iraqi army. Diveroli s aunt a strong-willed and outspoken
woman who fought constantly with her nephew joined the two friends to provide ad
ministrative support. She didn t approve of their drug use, and she talked openl
y about them on the phone, as if they weren t present.
"Mark my words," she told Diveroli s mother repeatedly, "your son is going to cr
ash and burn."
"Shut up!" Diveroli would shout, the coldblooded arms dealer giving way to the p
issed-off teenager. "You don t know what you re talking about! I made millions l
ast year!"
"Crash and burn," the aunt would say. "Mark my words crash and burn."
In June, seven months after Packouz started at AEY, he and Diveroli traveled to
Paris for Eurosatory, one of the world s largest arms trade shows. Miles of boot
hs inside the Paris Nord Villepinte exhibition center were filled with arms manu
facturers hawking the latest instruments of death tanks, robots, unmanned drones
and serving up champagne and caviar to some of the most powerful political and
military officials on the planet. Packouz and Diveroli were by far the youngest
in attendance, but they tried to look the part, wearing dress pants, crisp shirt
s and sales-rep ties. "Wait until I am really in the big time," Diveroli boasted
. "I will own this fucking show."
At a booth displaying a new robotic reconnaissance device, Diveroli and Packouz
met with Heinrich Thomet, a Swiss arms dealer who served as a crucial go-between
for AEY. Tall and suave, with movie-star looks and an impeccable sense of fashi
on, Thomet had blond hair, light-blue eyes and an eerily calm demeanor. He spoke
fluent English with a slight German accent, adding "OK" to the beginning and en
d of every sentence ("OK, so the price on the AKs is firm, OK?"). He seemed to h
ave connections everywhere Russia, Bulgaria, Hungary. Serving as a broker, Thome
t had created an array of shell companies and offshore accounts to shield arms t
ransactions from official scrutiny. He had used his contacts in Albania to get D
iveroli a good price on Chinese-made ammunition for U.S. Special Forces training
in Germany a deal that was technically illegal, given the U.S. embargo against
Chinese arms imposed after the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989.
"Thomet could get body armor, machine guns, anti-aircraft rockets anything," Pac
kouz recalls. "He was one of the best middlemen in the business, a real-life Lor
d of War."
Like Diveroli, Thomet had been in the business since he was a teenager, and he r
ecognized that the two young upstarts could be useful to him. Thomet was singled
out by Amnesty International for smuggling arms out of Zimbabwe in violation of
U.S. sanctions. He was also under investigation by U.S. law enforcement for shi
pping weapons from Serbia to Iraq, and he was placed on a "watch list" by the St
ate Department. Given the obstacles to selling directly in the United States, Th
omet wanted to use AEY as a front, providing him an easy conduit to the lucrativ
e contracts being handed out by the Pentagon.
With Thomet on their side, Diveroli and Packouz soon got the break they were loo
king for. On July 28th, 2006, the Army Sustainment Command in Rock Island, Illin
ois, posted a 44-page document titled "A Solicitation for Nonstandard Ammunition
." It looked like any other government form on fbo.gov, with blank spaces for na
mes and telephone numbers and hundreds of squares to be filled in. But the docum
ent actually represented a semi-covert operation by the Bush administration to p
rop up the Afghan National Army. Rather than face a public debate over the war i
n Afghanistan, which was going very badly indeed, the Pentagon issued what is kn
own as a "pseudo case" a solicitation that permitted it to allocate defense fund
s without the approval of Congress. The pseudo case wasn t secret, precisely, bu
t the only place it was publicized was on fbo.gov. No press release was issued,
and there was no public debate. The money was only available for two years, so i
t had to be spent quickly. And unlike most federal contracts, there was no dolla
r limit posted; companies vying for the deal could bid whatever they wanted.
Based on the numbers, it looked like it was going to be a lot of money. The Army

wanted to buy a dizzying array of weapons ammunition for AK-47 assault rifles a
nd SVD Dragunov sniper rifles, GP 30 grenades, 82 mm Russian mortars, S-KO aviat
ion rockets. The quantities were enormous enough ammo to literally create an arm
y and the entire contract would go to a single bidder. "One firm fixed-price awa
rd, on an all-or-none basis, will be made as a result of this solicitation," the
tender offer said.
The solicitation was only up for a matter of minutes before Diveroli spotted it,
reading the terms with increasing excitement. He immediately called Packouz, wh
o was driving along the interstate.
"I ve found the perfect contract for us," Diveroli said. "It s enormous far, far
bigger than anything we ve done before. But it s right up our alley."
The pair met at Diveroli s apartment to smoke a joint and discuss strategy. Supp
lying the contract would mean buying up hundreds of millions of dollars worth of
ammunition for the kind of Eastern Bloc weapons that the Afghans used. Because
such weapons were traded in the gray market a world populated by illegal arms de
alers, gun runners and warlords the Pentagon couldn t go out and buy the ammo it
self without causing a public relations disaster. Whoever won the contract to ar
m the Afghans would essentially be serving as an official front operation, laund
ering shady arms for the Pentagon.
Normally, a small-time outfit like AEY wouldn t have a shot at such a major defe
nse contract. But Diveroli and Packouz had three advantages. First, the Bush adm
inistration had started its small-business initiative at the Pentagon, mandating
that a certain percentage of defense contracts go to firms like AEY. Second, th
e fledgling arms dealers specialized in precisely the sort of Cold War munitions
the Pentagon was looking for: They had the "past performance" required by the c
ontract, and they could fulfill the order using the same supply lines Diveroli h
ad developed through Thomet. Third, the only requirement in the contract was tha
t the ammunition be "serviceable without qualification." As Diveroli and Packouz
interpreted it, that meant the Pentagon didn t care if they supplied "shit ammo
," as long as it "went bang and went out of the barrel."
For the two friends, it was a chance to enter a world usually reserved for multi
national defense contractors with armies of well-connected lobbyists. "I knew it
was a long shot," recalls Packouz. "But it seemed like we might be able to actu
ally compete with the big boys. I thought we actually had a chance. If we worked
hard. If we got lucky."
Bidding on defense contracts is a speculative business laborious, time-consuming
, with no prize for second place. As they passed a joint back and forth, Diverol
i decided it was time for Packouz to step up and take on a larger role.
"I don t really have time to source all these things," he told Packouz. "But I v
e got good contacts for you to start with. I want you to get on the Internet and
get a price from everyone and his mother. Any new sources you bring to the tabl
e, I ll give you 25 percent of the profit."
This was Packouz s big chance. That night, he went online and searched defense d
atabases for every arms manufacturer in Eastern Europe he could find Hungary, Bu
lgaria, Ukraine, any place that might deal in Soviet-era weapons. He e-mailed or
faxed or called them all. The phone connection was often bad, and Packouz had t
o shout to be heard. If the person who answered didn t speak English, he would s
ay "English! English! English!" and then spend minutes on hold while they tracke
d down the one guy in the outfit who spoke a few words. "Da, da," they would tel
l Packouz. "You buy, you buy." When he managed to make himself understood, he to
ld the manufacturers that the ammunition had to "work." It also had to "look goo
d," and not be in rusty boxes or exposed to the elements.
For six weeks, Packouz worked through the night, sleeping on Diveroli s couch an
d surviving on weed and adrenaline. He located stockpiles of ammunition in Easte
rn Europe at good prices. At the same time, Heinrich Thomet sourced a massive am
ount of ammunition through his Albanian connections. As the date for the final b
id neared, Diveroli agonized. He paced day and night, a cloud of smoke over his
head as he smoked joint after joint, muttering, worrying, cursing.
"Efraim was conflicted about whether to put a nine percent or 10 percent profit
margin on top of our prices," Packouz recalls. "The difference was more than $3

million in cash, which was huge but with either margin, profits were going to be
more than $30 million. He figured everyone else was going to take 10 percent, b
ut what if another bidder had the same idea as him and put in nine percent? So m
aybe he should go with eight percent. But then we might be leaving money on the
table God forbid!"
Finally, at the last possible moment, Diveroli went for nine percent. He scribbl
ed a number on the form: $298,000,000. It was an educated guess, one he prayed w
ouldn t be undercut by the big defense contractors. There were just 10 minutes l
eft before the application deadline. The two friends jumped in Diveroli s car an
d sped through the quiet residential streets of Miami Beach, making it to the po
st office with only seconds to go.
The Pentagon can be a slow-moving bureaucracy, a place where paperwork goes to d
ie. But because the Afghanistan solicitation was a "pseudo case," it had been de
signed to move swiftly. On the evening of January 26th, 2007, Packouz was parkin
g his beat-up old Mazda Protege when Diveroli called.
"I have good news and bad news," Diveroli said.
"What s the bad news?" Packouz asked.
"Our first order is only for $600,000."
"So we won the contract?" Packouz asked in disbelief.
"Fuck yeah!" said Diveroli.
The two friends, still in their early twenties, were now responsible for one of
the central elements of the Bush administration s foreign policy. Over multiple
bottles of Cristal at an upscale Italian restaurant, the pair toasted their amaz
ing good fortune. Throughout the meal they passed Diveroli s cocaine bullet back
and forth under the table, using napkins to pretend to blow their noses.
"You and me, buddy," Diveroli said. "You and me are going to take over this indu
stry. I see AEY as a $10 billion company in a few years. These fat cats in their
boardrooms worrying about the stock prices of their companies have no idea what
is about to hit them."
"General Dynamics isn t going to be too happy right now," Packouz agreed.
Despite the celebratory air, they both knew that their work had just begun. They
had already managed to clear three different government audits, hiring an accou
ntant to establish the kind of basic bookkeeping systems that any cafe or corner
store would have. Now, a few weeks after winning the contract, AEY was suddenly
summoned to a meeting with the purchasing officers at Rock Island.
Diveroli asked Ralph Merrill, the Mormon gun manufacturer from Utah, to come alo
ng. An experienced businessman in his sixties, Merrill had provided the financia
l backing needed to land the contract, pledging his interest in a piece of prope
rty in Utah. Diveroli had also shown auditors his personal bank balance, by then
$5.4 million.
The meeting with Army officials proved to be a formality. Diveroli had the contr
acting jargon down, and he sailed through the technical aspects of the transacti
on with confidence: supply sources, end-user certificates, AEY s experience. No
one ever asked his age. "We were supremely confident," says Packouz. "I just thi
nk it never occurred to the Army people that they were dealing with a couple of
dudes in their early twenties."
In reality, the Pentagon had good reason to disqualify AEY from even vying for t
he contract. The company and Diveroli had both been placed on the State Departme
nt "watch list" for importing illegal firearms. But the Pentagon failed to check
the list. It also ignored the fact that AEY had defaulted on prior contracts. I
nitially rated as "unsatisfactory" by the contracting office, AEY was upgraded t
o "good" and then "excellent."
There was only one explanation for the meteoric rise: Diveroli had radically und
erbid the competition. In private conversations, the Army s contracting officers
let AEY know that its bid was at least $50 million less than its nearest rival.
Diveroli s anxiety that his bid of nearly $300 million would be too high had fa
iled to consider the corpulent markups employed by corporate America when it dea
ls with the Pentagon. For once, at least, taxpayers were getting a good deal on
a defense contract.
The first Task Order that AEY received on the deal was for $600,000 worth of gre

nades and ammunition a test, Diveroli surmised, to make sure they could deliver
as promised. Make a mistake, no matter the reason, and the Pentagon might yank t
he entire $298 million contract.
After their celebratory dinner the night they received the contract, the two fri
ends headed for Diveroli s brand-new Audi. As Diveroli arranged a line of coke o
n the dashboard, he warned Packouz not to make any mistakes with the grenades.
"You ve got the bitch s panties off," Diveroli said, adopting his best movie-sta
r swagger. "But you haven t fucked her yet."
Diveroli and Packouz needn t have worried. They had barely gotten started on the
order for grenades when the second Task Order arrived. This time, it was for mo
re than $49 million in ammunition including 100 million rounds of AK ammo and mo
re than a million grenades for rocket launchers. There was no question now. The
Pentagon was ecstatic to award the contract to a tiny company like AEY, which he
lped fulfill the quota set by Bush s small-business initiative.
Packouz calculated that even with the tight margins, he stood to make as much as
$6 million on the contract. But he wasn t so sure that AEY was going to be able
to deliver. Diveroli had already hit the road, traveling to the Ukraine, Monten
egro and the Czech Republic in search of suppliers. So Packouz would have to ten
d to most of the Afghanistan contract by himself a job that any conventional def
ense contractor would have assigned to dozens of full-time, experienced employee
s.
In February 2007, saddled with a gargantuan task, Packouz went by himself to the
annual International Defense Exhibition in Abu Dhabi to look for suppliers. "It
was bizarre," he says. "I was just a kid, but I was probably the single biggest
private arms dealer on the planet. It was like Efraim had put me into the movie
he was starring in." To look the part of an international arms dealer, Packouz
carried a silver aluminum briefcase and wore wraparound shades. He also had busi
ness cards printed up with an impressive new title, considering he was part of a
two-man operation: vice president.
In Abu Dhabi, Packouz hoped to find a single supplier big enough to meet most of
AEY s demands. The obvious candidate was Rosoboron Export, the official dealer
for all Russian arms. The company had inherited the Soviet Union s global arms-e
xporting empire; now, as part of Vladimir Putin s tightly held network of oligar
chic corporations, Rosoboron sold more than 90 percent of Russia s weapons. The
firm was so big that Packouz could have just given them the list of ammunition h
e needed and they could have supplied the entire contract, a one-stop weapons sh
op.
But there was a catch, the kind of perversity common in the world of arms dealin
g: Rosoboron had been banned by the State Department for selling nuclear equipme
nt to Iran. The U.S. government wanted Russian ammo, just not from the Russians.
AEY couldn t do business with the firm at least, not legally. But for gun runne
rs, this kind of legal hurdle was just that a hurdle to be jumped.
Packouz went to the main Russian pavilion every day to try to get an appointment
with the deputy director of Rosoboron. The giant exhibit was like a souk for ar
ms dealers, with scores of Russian generals in full-dress uniform meeting with b
usinessmen and sheiks. Finally, on the last day, Packouz was given an appointmen
t. The deputy director looked like he was ex-KGB big and fat, in his sixties, wi
th thick square glasses. As Packouz spoke, the man kept surveying the pavilion o
ut of the corner of his eye, as if he were checking to see if he was being watch
ed. Packouz showed him the list of munitions he needed, along with the quantitie
s. The director raised his eyebrows, impressed by the scale of the operation.
"We have very good interest in this business," he said in a thick Russian accent
. "You know we are only company who can provide everything."
"I m aware of that," Packouz said. "That s why we want to do business with you."
"But as you know, there is problem. State Department has blacklist us. I don t u
nderstand your government. One month is OK to do business, next month is not OK.
This is very not fair. Very political. They just want leverage in dealing with
Kremlin."
"I know we can t do business with you directly," Packouz said. Then he hinted th
at there was a way to get around the blacklist. "If you can help us do business

with another Russian company, then we can buy from them."


"Let me talk to my people," the Russian said, taking one of Packouz s newly prin
ted business cards.
It was the last Packouz ever heard from the Russian. Several weeks later, as he
was arranging supply routes for the deal, Packouz was informed that AEY would no
t be given overflight permission for Turkmenistan, a former Soviet satellite tha
t had to be crossed to reach Afghanistan. "It was clear that Putin was fucking w
ith us directly," Packouz says. "If the Russians made life difficult for us, the
y would get taken off the American blacklist, so they could get our business for
themselves."
Packouz managed to obtain the overflight permission through a Ukrainian airline
but the episode was an ominous reminder of how little he understood about the bu
siness he was in. "There was no way to really know why the heads of state were d
oing things, especially when it came to something like invading Iraq," he says.
"It was such a deep game, we didn t know what was really happening."
With the flights to Kabul arranged, Packouz hit the phones looking for more ammu
nition. The cheaper the better: The less the ammo cost, the more he and Diveroli
would pocket for themselves. They didn t need quality; antique shells, second-r
ate mortar rounds all of it was fine, as long as it worked. "Please be advised t
here is no age restriction for this contract!!!" AEY advised one potential suppl
ier in an e-mail. "ANY age ammunition is acceptable."
Of course, if the Pentagon really cared about the Afghan National Army, it could
have supplied them with more expensive, and reliable, state-of-the-art weapons.
The Bush administration s ambivalence about Afghanistan had manifested itself i
n the terms of the contract: The soldiers of Kabul and Kandahar would not be aba
ndoned in the field, but nor would they be given the tools to succeed.
Packouz sat on the couch in Diveroli s apartment, bong and lighter handy, and ca
lled U.S. Embassies in the "stans" the former Soviet satellites and asked to spe
ak to the defense attache. Deepening his voice and adopting a clipped military i
nflection, Packouz chatted them up, made them laugh, asked about how things were
in Kazakhstan, described how sunny it was in Miami. Whenever possible, he threw
in military lingo designed to appeal to the officers: He was working on an esse
ntial contract in the War on Terror, he explained, and the United States militar
y was counting on AEY to complete the mission. "I said it was part of the vital
process of nation building in the central front of the War on Terror," Packouz r
ecalls. "Then I would tell them the specifics of what I was after mortar rounds,
the size of ammo, the amount. They were all eager to help."
Every day, Packouz spoke with military officials, sending volleys of e-mails to
Kabul and Kyrgyzstan and the Army depot in Rock Island. The contracting officers
he dealt with told him that there was a secret agenda involved in the deal. The
Pentagon, they said, was worried that a Democrat would be elected president in
2008 and cut the funding for the war or worse, pull U.S. troops out of Afghanist
an entirely.
"They said Bush and Rumsfeld were trying to arm Afghanistan with enough ammo to
last them the next few decades," Packouz recalls. "It made sense to me, but I di
dn t really care. My main motivator was making money, just like it was for Gener
al Dynamics. Nobody goes into the arms business for altruistic purposes."
It didn t take long for AEY to strike cut-rate deals that vastly improved its pr
ofit margin. The nine percent planned for in the original bid was soon pushing t
oward 25 percent enough to provide Packouz and Diveroli with nearly $85 million
in profits. But even such a jaw-dropping sum didn t satisfy Diveroli. He scoured
FedBizOpps for even more contracts and landed a private deal to import Lithuani
an ammo, determined to turn AEY into a multibillion-dollar company.
To cope with the increased business, AEY leased space in a larger and more expen
sive office building in Miami Beach. The company hired an office manager and two
young secretaries they found on Craigslist. Diveroli brought in two more friend
s from the synagogue, including a guy fluent in Russian, to help fulfill the con
tracts. "Things were rolling along," Packouz recalls. "We were delivering on a c
onsistent basis. We had suppliers in Hungary and Bulgaria and other countries. I
had finally arranged all the overflight permits. We were cash positive."

Packouz had yet to be paid a cent, but he was convinced he was about to be serio
usly rich. Anticipating the big payday, he ditched his beater Mazda for a brandnew Audi A4. He moved from his tiny efficiency apartment to a nice one-bedroom o
verlooking the pool at the Flamingo in fashionable South Beach. Diveroli soon fo
llowed, taking a two-bedroom in the central tower. It was convenient for both th
eir drug dealer, Raoul, lived in the complex.
"The Flamingo was a constant party," Packouz says. "The marketing slogan for the
building was South Beach revolves around us, and it was true. There was drink
ing, dancing, people making out in the Jacuzzi sometimes more than just making o
ut. Outside my balcony there was always at least a few women sunbathing topless.
People at parties would ask us what we did for a living. The girls were models
or cosmetologists. The guys were stockbrokers and lawyers. We would say we were
international arms dealers. You know the war in Afghanistan? we would say. Al
l the bullets are coming from us. It was heaven. It was wild. We felt like we w
ere on top of the world."
In the evenings, Packouz and Diveroli would get high and go to the American Rang
e and Gun Shop the only range near Miami that would let them fire off the Uzis a
nd MP5s that Diveroli was licensed to own. "When we let go with our machine guns
, all the other shooters would stop and look at us like, What the fuck was that
? Everyone else had pistols going pop pop. We loved it. Shooting an automatic m
achine gun feels powerful."
The biggest piece of the Afghan contract, in terms of sheer quantity, was ammuni
tion for AK-47s. Packouz had received excellent quotes from suppliers in Hungary
and the Czech Republic. But Diveroli insisted on using the Swiss arms dealer He
inrich Thomet s high-level contacts in Albania. The move made sense. The Albania
ns didn t require a large deposit as a down payment, which made it easier for AE
Y to place big orders. And Albania s government could certainly handle the volum
e: Its paranoid communist leaders had been so convinced they were going to be at
tacked by foreign powers that they had effectively transformed the nation into a
vast military stockpile, with bunkers scattered throughout the countryside. In
fact, AK-47 ammunition was so plentiful that Albania s president had recently fl
own to Baghdad and offered to donate millions of rounds to Gen. David Petraeus.
The structure for AEY s purchase of the Albanian ammo was standard in the world
of illegal arms deals, where the whole point is to disguise origins and end-user
s. It was perfectly legal, but it had the stench of double-dealing. A shell comp
any called Evdin, which Thomet had incorporated in Cyprus, would buy the ammo fr
om Albania s arms-exporting company. Evdin would then resell the rounds to AEY.
That way Thomet got a cut as broker, and AEY and the U.S. government were insula
ted from any legal or moral quandaries that came with doing business in a countr
y as notoriously corrupt and unpredictable as Albania.
There was only one snag: When Diveroli bid on the contract, he had miscalculated
the cost of shipping, failing to anticipate the rising cost of fuel. The Army h
ad given him permission to repackage the rounds into cardboard boxes, but gettin
g anything done in a country as dysfunctional as Albania wasn t easy. So Diverol
i dispatched another friend from their synagogue, Alex Podrizki, to the capital
city of Tirana to oversee the details of fulfilling the deal.
Despite the hands-on approach, signs of trouble emerged immediately. When Podriz
ki went to look at a cache of ammunition in one bunker, it was apparent that the
Albanians had a haphazard attitude about safety; they used an ax to open crates
containing live rounds and lit cigarettes in a room filled with gunpowder. The
ammunition itself, though decades old, seemed to be in working order, but the ro
unds were stored in rusty cans and stacked on rotting wooden pallets not the pro
tocol normally used for such dangerous materiel. Worst of all, Podrizki noticed
that the steel containers holding the ammunition known as "sardine cans" were co
vered in Chinese markings. Podrizki called Packouz in Miami.
"I inspected the stuff and it seems good," Podrizki told him. "But dude, you kno
w this is Chinese ammo, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Packouz said.
"The ammo is Chinese."
"How do you know it s Chinese?"

"There are Chinese markings all over the crates."


Packouz s heart sank. There was not only an embargo against selling weapons manu
factured in China: The Afghan contract specifically stipulated that Chinese ammo
was not permitted. Then again, maybe AEY could argue that the ammunition didn t
violate the ban, since it had been imported to Albania decades before the embar
go was imposed, back when Albania s communist government had forged an alliance
with Mao. There was precedent for such an argument: Only the year before, the Ar
my had been delighted with Chinese ammo that AEY had shipped from Albania. But t
his time, when Diveroli wrote the State Department s legal advisory desk to ask
if he could use Chinese rounds made prior to the embargo, he received a curt and
unequivocal reply: not without a presidential decree.
Given the deadline on the contract, there was no time to find another supplier.
The Hungarians could fill half the deal, but the ammunition would not be ready f
or shipment until the fall; the Czechs could fill the entire order, but they wan
ted $1 million. Any delay would risk losing the entire contract. "The Army was p
ushing us for the ammo," says Packouz. "They needed it ASAP."
So the two friends chose a third option. As arms dealers, subverting the law was
n t some sort of extreme scenario it was a routine part of the business. There w
as even a term of art for it: circumvention. Packouz e-mailed Podrizki in Albani
a and instructed him to have the rounds repackaged to get rid of any Chinese mar
kings. It was time to circumvent.
Alone in a strange city, Podrizki improvised. He picked up a phone book and foun
d a cardboard-box manufacturer named Kosta Trebicka. The two men met at a bar ne
ar the Sky Tower in the center of town. Trebicka was in his late forties, a wiry
and intense man with thick worker s hands. He told Podrizki that he could suppl
y cardboard boxes strong enough to hold the ammunition, as well as the labor to
transfer the rounds to new pallets. A week later, Podrizki called to ask if Treb
icka could hire enough men to repack 100 million rounds of ammunition by taking
them out of metal sardine cans and placing them in cardboard boxes. Trebicka tho
ught the request exceedingly odd. Why go to all that trouble? Podrizki fibbed, s
aying it was to lighten the load and save money on air freight. After extended h
aggling with Diveroli back in Miami, Trebicka agreed to do the job for $280,000
and hired a team of men to begin repackaging the rounds.
As he worked at the warehouse, however, Trebicka grew even more suspicious. Conc
erned that something nefarious was happening, he called the U.S. Embassy and met
with the economic attache. Over coffee at a cafe called Chocolate, Trebicka con
fided that the ammunition was covered in Chinese markings. Was that a problem? N
ot at all, the U.S. official replied. The embassy had been trying to find the mo
ney to pay for demolishing the ammunition, so sending the rounds to Afghanistan
would actually do them a favor. AEY appeared to be in the clear.
But greed got the better of Diveroli. In a phone call from Miami, he asked Trebi
cka to use his contacts in the Albanian government to find out how much Thomet w
as paying the Albanians for the ammunition. AEY was giving the Swiss arms broker
just over four cents per round and reselling them to the Pentagon for 10 cents.
But Diveroli suspected that Thomet was ripping him off.
He turned out to be right. A few days later, Trebicka reported that Thomet was p
aying the Albanians only two cents per round meaning that he was charging AEY do
uble the asking price, just for serving as a broker. Diveroli was enraged. He as
ked Trebicka to meet with his Albanian connections and find a way to cut Thomet
out of the deal entirely.
Trebicka was happy to help. The Albanians, he thought, would be glad to deal wit
h AEY directly. After all, by doing an end run around Thomet, there would be mor
e money for everyone else. But when Trebicka met with the Albanian defense minis
ter, his intervention had the opposite effect: The Albanians cut him out of the
deal, informing AEY that the repackaging job would be completed instead by a fri
end of the prime minister s son. What Trebicka had failed to grasp was that Thom
et was paying a kickback to the Albanians from the large margin he was making on
the deal. Getting rid of Thomet was impossible, because that was how the Albani
ans were being paid off the books.
Diveroli flew to Albania and tried to intervene to help Trebicka keep the job, b

ut he didn t have enough clout to get the decision reversed. Trebicka was stuck
with the tab for the workers he had hired to repackage the rounds, along with a
warehouse full of useless cardboard boxes he had printed to hold the ammo. Furio
us at being frozen out, he called Diveroli and secretly recorded the conversatio
n, threatening to tell the CIA what he knew about the deal. "If the Albanians wa
nt to still work with me, I will not open my mouth," he promised. "I will do wha
tever you tell me to do."
Diveroli suggested that Trebicka try bribing Ylli Pinari, the head of the Albani
an arms-exporting agency that was supplying the ammunition. "Why don t you kiss
Pinari s ass one more time," Diveroli said. "Call him up. Beg. Kiss him. Send on
e of your girls to fuck him. Let s get him happy. Maybe we can play on his fears
. Or give him a little money, something in his pocket. And he s not going to get
much $20,000 from you."
When Trebicka complained about being muscled out of the deal, Diveroli said ther
e was nothing he could do about it. There were too many thugs involved on the Al
banian end of the deal, and it was just too dangerous. "It went up higher, to th
e prime minister and his son," Diveroli said. "This mafia is too strong for me.
I can t fight this mafia. It got too big. The animals just got too out of contro
l."
With things up in the air in Albania, Packouz was starting to feel the pressure.
He was stressed out, working around the clock, negotiating multimillion-dollar
purchases and arranging for transportation. It felt like AEY was under siege fro
m all directions. So when the cargo plane had finally taken off from Hungary on
its way to Kabul loaded with 5 million rounds of ammunition, Packouz had breathe
d a sigh of relief. Then the plane had been abruptly seized in Kyrgyzstan and Pa
ckouz had been forced to swing into action once more, working the phones for wee
ks to get the ammo released. Fortunately, AEY had friends in high places. When P
ackouz contacted the U.S. Embassy in Kyrgyzstan, the military attache immediatel
y wrote to the Kyrgyz government, explaining that the cargo was "urgently needed
for the war on terrorism being fought by your neighboring Afghan forces." Two w
eeks later, Defense Secretary Robert Gates traveled to Kyrgyzstan on a mission t
o keep supplies flowing through the airport there. Under pressure from top U.S.
officials, the ammo was eventually released.
"I never did find out what really happened, or why the plane was seized," says P
ackouz. "It was how things were done in international arms dealing. The defense
industry and politics were extremely intertwined you couldn t do business in one
without dealing with the other. Your fate depended on political machinations be
hind the scenes. You don t even know whose side you were on who you were helping
and who you were hurting."
With the plane released and the Albanian supply line secured, Packouz and Divero
li thought they finally had everything under control. Cargo planes filled with a
mmunition were taking off from airports across Eastern Europe. The military offi
cials receiving the ammo in Kabul had to know it was Chinese: Every round is sta
mped with the place of manufacture, as any soldier knows. But the shipments were
routinely approved, and there were no complaints from the Afghans about the qua
lity of the rounds. The ammo worked, and that was all that mattered. Millions of
dollars were being transferred via wire from the Pentagon into AEY s accounts,
and the $300 million contract was moving along smoothly. Diveroli was rich. Pack
ouz was going to be rich. They had it made.
But it didn t take long for success to drive a wedge between the two friends. Th
e exhausted Packouz no longer had to work 18 hours a day to track down suppliers
. He started coming in late and knocking off early. Diveroli, who owed him commi
ssion but had yet to cut a check to his partner, started to argue with him about
his hours.
"Efraim started looking at me differently," Packouz says. "I could tell he was w
orking things over in his head. There was real money in the bank millions and mi
llions. He was about to be forced to pay me a huge chunk of change. He said he d
idn t want to give me all that money. That was how he put it. Not like I had e
arned the money."
One day, Diveroli finally made his move. He wanted to renegotiate the deal. Pack

ouz knew he was in a bad bargaining position. The money coming in from the Army
went directly to AEY. Packouz had no written contract with Diveroli, only an ora
l agreement. The handshake deal they had made was worth just that a handshake.
In an effort to protect his interests, Packouz demanded a meeting with lawyers p
resent. Before the session, the two friends had a quick exchange.
"Listen, dude, if you fuck me, I m going to fuck you," Packouz warned.
"Whatever," said Diveroli.
"It s going to be war," Packouz said. Then he played his trump card. "You don t
want the IRS starting to come and look around."
Diveroli s face went white.
"Calm down," Diveroli said. "Don t throw around three-letter words like IRS. We
can find a settlement."
"I know all of your contacts, and I can send them the actual documents showing w
hat the government is paying," Packouz said. "You ll lose your entire profit mar
gin."
"Take it easy," said Diveroli.
"We both know you re delivering Chinese," Packouz said.
A deal was struck, with Packouz agreeing to a fraction of the commission he had
been promised. He figured he had something more precious than money: He knew how
to work FedBizOpps. To compete with his former partner, he opened up his own on
e-man shop, Dynacore Industries, claiming on his website that his "staff" had do
ne business with the State Department, the Pentagon, and the Iraqi and Afghan ar
mies. "Sometimes you have to fake it until you make it," Packouz says. "People w
on t do business with you unless you have experience, but how can you get experi
ence if they won t do business with you? Everyone has got to lie sometimes." Fea
ring that Diveroli might decide it was cheaper to have him killed than to pay hi
m, Packouz also bought a .357 revolver as insurance.
It turned out that Packouz had bigger things to worry about. Winning the Afghan
contract had earned AEY powerful enemies in the industry. One American arms deal
er had complained to the State Department, claiming that AEY was buying Chinesemade AK-47s and shipping them to the Iraqi army. The allegation was false, but i
t had apparently triggered a criminal investigation by the Pentagon. On August 2
3rd, 2007 the very day Packouz was supposed to sign the settlement papers with D
iveroli federal agents raided AEY s offices in Miami Beach. Ordering everyone to
step away from their computers, the agents seized all of the company s hard dri
ves and files.
The raid led agents directly to the e-mails about the Chinese markings on the am
munition from Albania, and the conspiracy to repackage it. "The e-mails were inc
redibly incriminating they spelled out everything," Packouz says. "I knew once t
hey saw them we were in trouble. We were so stupid. If we didn t e-mail, we coul
d probably have denied the whole thing. But there were the names and dates. It w
as undeniable. I realized I was going to get caught no matter what I did, so I t
urned myself in. When the agents came to my lawyer s office to interview me, the
y were joking about how they had seen all the e-mails and notes. They were laugh
ing."
To avoid indictment, Packouz agreed to cooperate, as did Alex Podrizki. But Dive
roli went right on shipping Chinese ammo to Afghanistan and the Army went right
on accepting it. By now, though, the repackaging being done in Albania was getti
ng even sloppier. Some of the crates were infested with termites, and the ammuni
tion had been damaged by water. Tipped off by an attorney for Kosta Trebicka, wh
o had begun a crusade against corruption in Albania, The New York Times ran a fr
ont-page story in March 2008 entitled "Supplier Under Scrutiny on Arms for Afgha
ns."
Before the Times story ran, Packouz had been led to believe that he wasn t going
to be charged for shipping pre-embargo Chinese ammunition. But after the articl
e appeared, he and Podrizki and Diveroli were indicted on 71 counts of fraud. Fa
ced with overwhelming evidence, all pleaded guilty. The Mormon gun manufacturer
from Utah, Ralph Merrill, pleaded not guilty and was convicted in December. Hein
rich Thomet simply vanished; according to rumors, he was last seen somewhere in
Bosnia.

After the story broke, Kosta Trebicka traveled to the United States to talk to c
ongressional investigators and federal prosecutors in Miami. He soon became terr
ified that the U.S. government was going to indict him as well. But back in Alba
nia, he also became the lead witness in a case that targeted Albanian thugs and
gangsters with ties to the prime minister. Then one afternoon in September 2008,
Trebicka was killed in a mysterious "accident" when his truck somehow managed t
o flip over on a flat stretch of land outside Tirana. He was found alive by vill
agers, but medical crews and the police were slow to arrive. One of the first of
ficials on the scene, in fact, was the Albanian prime minister s former bodyguar
d. "If it was an accident," says Erion Veliaj, an Albanian activist who worked w
ith Trebicka, "it was a very strange kind."
Through all the chaos, Diveroli and Packouz had done a huge amount of business w
ith the U.S. military. All told, AEY made 85 deliveries of munitions to Afghanis
tan worth more than $66 million, and had already received orders for another $10
0 million in ammunition. But the fiasco involved more than a couple of stoner ki
ds who made a fortune in the arms trade. "The AEY contract can be viewed as a ca
se study in what is wrong with the procurement process," an investigation by the
House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform later concluded. There was a
"questionable need for the contract," a "grossly inadequate assessment of AEY s
qualifications" and "poor execution and oversight" of the contract. The Bush ad
ministration s push to outsource its wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, in short, had
sent companies like AEY into the world of illegal arms dealers but when things
turned nasty, the federal government reacted with righteous indignation.
In January, Packouz was sentenced to seven months of house arrest after he stood
before a federal judge in Miami and expressed his remorse for the "embarrassmen
t, stress and heartache that I have caused." But his real regret is political: H
e believes that he and Diveroli were scapegoats, prosecuted not for breaking the
law but for embarrassing the Bush administration. No one from the government ha
s been charged in the case, even though officials in both the Pentagon and the S
tate Department clearly knew that AEY was shipping Chinese-made ammunition to Af
ghanistan.
"We were the Army s favorite contractors when we got the deal poster boys for Pr
esident Bush s small-business initiative," Packouz says. "We would have saved th
e government at least $50 million. We were living the American dream, until it t
urned into a nightmare."
In January, dressed in a tan prison-issued jumper, Diveroli came before Judge Jo
an Lenard for sentencing at Miami s gleaming new federal courthouse. The court w
as packed with his friends and relatives, but they didn t exactly give him the s
upport he was hoping for. "Efraim needs to go to jail," a local rabbi told the j
udge. Even Diveroli s mother concurred. "I know you hate me for saying this," sh
e said, addressing her son directly, "but you need to go to jail." Diveroli s sh
oulders slumped.
Diveroli described his contrition to Judge Lenard. When prison guards saw his fi
le, he said, they asked in amazement how such a young person had managed to win
such a huge military contract. "I have no answer," Diveroli told the court. "I h
ave had many experiences in my short life. I have done more than most people can
dream of. But I would have done it differently. All the notoriety in my industr
y and all the good times and there were some cannot make up for the damage."
Judge Lenard gazed at Diveroli for a long time. "If it wasn t so amazing, you wo
uld laugh," she said. Then she sentenced him to four years.
The hearing was not the end of Diveroli s woes. As a convicted felon, he was bar
red from so much as holding a gun, let alone selling arms. But while he was awai
ting sentencing on the fraud charges, Diveroli couldn t stay out of the business
he loved. He contrived to act as a consultant to a licensed importer who wanted
to buy Korean-made ammunition magazines. The deal was technically legal the mag
azines only fed ammo into the guns, so Diveroli wasn t actually selling weapons
but it put him in the cross hairs of another federal sting operation.
An ATF agent posing as an arms dealer spent weeks trying to wheedle Diveroli int
o selling arms. Diveroli refused, but he couldn t resist bragging about his expl
oits; as agents recorded his every word, he talked about hunting alligators and

hogs in the Everglades with a .50-caliber rifle. Finally, the ATF agent lured Di
veroli to a meeting, asking him to bring along a gun so they could go shooting t
ogether. Diveroli didn t bring a weapon he knew that would constitute a felony.
But the ATF agent, who had thoughtfully brought along a gun of his own, handed D
iveroli a Glock to try out.
The temptation was too much. Adopting his best tough-guy swagger, Diveroli clear
ed the chamber and inspected the weapon. As always, the 24-year-old arms dealer
was the star of his own Hollywood movie. No matter what happened, he told the ag
ent moments before his arrest, he would never leave the arms business.
"Once a gun runner," he boasted," always a gun runner."
A great story!

Thoughts

If something is twisted thats interesting, this deserv observation.


The bullshit is the real shit!
Time to focus
Chess is interesting game, a lot of answers are out there!
Deep down is the great story, above are just the emotions.

I don t insult your intellect, what I say is that you go selfish as character an
d school system with this school facts is going to fucked up your mind.

Nah, I won t go for nothing and getting nothing what s the idea?
Oh we are friends awesome but why,how and who?
Off off outside very wise you go outside to smell bad to do shitty stuff and what mo
re?
To lower your IQ!
Okay probably you are right you get more wise you find out about sex toys more ear
ly from man mainly from you like sex more than man You have pussy you can put a c
ock real or fake who gives fuck?? ?
In the end both dicks.. . Can get wet!
So let s get it like that you can have dry and wet dick, however for more fun yo
u can find out and more toys so yeah you are wise in sex.
You are woman right!? PLEASE tell me I am on the right direction!?

So do you know the cocky or dicky philosophy!?

Hey, GreenHollyWoodrattffAa hey hey.. .Of my mistake I have forgotten that you have
blocked me.
Naaaahnaaah that s wrong, so now you ask "Which is right?" you are going now in ri
ght direction, so be wise.
It s very salty. I to be here honest.
Sexsexsexsex I am on 17 level or take it as years old and I want really to fuck and
fuck But so far I have fucked a biatch in my dreams.
Understand, everything is about understanding. If you don t understand me there i
sn t reason to continue.
Okay 10 or let s be 16 or not to be accurate 17 but still not fully a fully year i
s from birthday up to birthday... In the end this is the time being on Planet Ea
rth.
The world is like a banana you remove the top and survival chances are going very
lower.
So awesome.. . So unreal so real
That s a dream, If not a lie or most cases something which has happen mainly fro
m money.

That s typical and stupid what I search is what s going to go in the missing plac
es.
As for presents "On what to buy.."
.. a book is nice but to be specific genre is important.
Oh oh oh that cliche "Woman get first wise can do more things"
- That s shitty you woman wise!.
t

You laugh on shit.


You can t stop laughing.
and god knows what more but as overall I bet in one wise people do one in perfec
way woman do 5 in screw up way.

As for Uniqueness, we all are unique colour, size, male or female.. .


From DeYtH Banger

Books
- Lets take the last breathe
Miss Peregrines Home for Peculiar Children(Miss Peregrines Peculiar Children #1)
by Ransom Riggs

Let s see throw the eyes of Ben the life of Mark Zuckerberg, who is he!? How it
happen!? When it happen!? Why... By who and so on and so on... to be honest here
I Have heard a little about the story... but not so good as this here it was to
ld... what I read... was more likely a piece from all and this here is more than
a piece... it s fucking everything from the whole beginning.
"Wow...wow... I didn t knew that... so it must mean... I should be the next Mark
Zuckerberg?, Bill Gates!?"
"Probably this POV is mind blow... we should explore it... shouldn t we?"

"Let s see how much deeper you can go!?"

Blood Father
by Peter Craig
A tragedy... blooody... very true... real... happening - THis are the keywords!
The Man Who Knew Infinity: A Life of the Genius Ramanujan
by Robert Kanigel
Bringing Down the House: The Inside Story of Six M.I.T. Students Who Took Vegas
for Millions
by Ben Mezrich *
Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life (Midde School, #1)
by James Patterson *
Inferno (Robert Langdon, #4)
by Dan Brown *

The Night Manager


by John le Carr

Profile
Is it a nice word and suitable to use this word.. as for now what I am going to
talk about??
I started talking and I made a short story on the topic "Care". Now it will be f
or ProfIle.
Who doesn t hate gossipers, the people which hear stuff around them... like this
woman is making affair... this woman is biatch... or they just see stuff and th
en they exaggerated this woman is fucking slim... In the faces of the gossipers.
.. everyone has his own unique name and description. But unfortunately we are sa
d... we are alone... so logically we want share our pain by ruin somebody else r
elationship.
- Don t we want that!? I wasn t like that... they weren t like that... just the
world helped them a little to become that type of people and the feature "IGnore

" and look they suffer now and they want to make and other people to suffer that
s how they find empathy. We both know that... we are enough old to have discove
red and experienced such thing... we feel very jealous... when somebody has the
best and we have the worst... like the stuff around their family (Like what s ha
ppening!? ... What do they get for Christmas... presents... and so on and so on.
. what they can do!? What they can t do!?)
It s something which for 2016 - 20 Century it s the possibility... not a science
fiction... truth hurts but and lies to be rummored like the series... Breaking
Bad Season 6... is comming... Person Of Interest it will have two more seasons a
fter 5 season... on the internet you can see that... but this days outside is li
ke inside.. not big deal... always somebody after you... and even if you are a
guy who is famous... To be in such possition is fucked up... they know how you l
ook... they are after you... it s a nightmare a lot of people have faken their d
ead just to be alone... to be like the other people... I call that "The Grey Ma
n".....
Such type of people are like a BIATCH.. . BIATCH makes blowjob.. . Feetjobs...
But I bet that she isn t a surgeon or who knows what... biatcHES.....!?
As for school it s all about the gossip.. if you know that this guy is gay... yo
u gonna spread that because you have "Aim"... running his life nothing else...WH
ich somehow makes you pleasure and makes you famous in school... doesn t it!? Sc
hool is like the journalist... If you have the best news you gonna be the best
journalist .... you on Care??????
Really???
You don t care... what s Care?? ?
Something to care on your back as a bag??
...

Notes out of my Direction!


But it s hammer day.
1. Life Chapter (Robin Sharma)
- I lost my data on that topic.
2 Jokes (Haha)
- What to say??
Jokes which are made on twice thinking... or something on wrong way said in odd
or strange way
... Jokes sometimes can ruin everything.

I haD and more but i lost that data!

(MORE LIKELY A NIGHTMARE)


Killing a Character, Name "Geisaha"
Time for killing a character from a character. Outside it s pretty cold outside,
as for now I m naked... it s winter 13 December, the temperature is below the z
ero... You don t stop asking. Who am "I"... "I" for you or for me???
I can tell you I am Geisaha, my real name was Richard Packman. Short name as alw
ays was Dick.
But how am I naked???
It s one long story, but I will share it with you, it was 2011 year, the year wh
ich changed everything. My father started to abuse me, he even sucked my dick he
wanted to fuck me and it was done...Nobody was home... I was the perfect victim
of my my father, you know how much cops are fucked up, do ya!?
If you kill him, it will more likely look like you are the person who has starte
d everything if you touch him... he could take that as trying to attack him...
He even cummed in my mouth... (It was the most fucked up thing which I have ever
had in my life) "Hey, sonna from a biatch...one mouth open, will went in status
once open and never ever closed again. Be smart kiddo!"
What he was meaning was that if I open my mouth.... he will kill me (Like to say
my parents what he really did... WHATTTTTTTTT THIS FUCKING... SICK MONSTER FUCK
ING DID... HOW HE JUST RAPED ME... WITHOUT THEY EVE KNOWING...) he is a cop...
a guy who is twisted at home he is different at work he is different... that s j
ust the perfect disguise, every day from that year the stuff were repeated, from
once at week it goes twice... his mind was going very twisty and very pervert n
ew stuff he was discovering which he was doing them on me...
...
Then three times,... fourth and nothing I could do....until one day in which he
was fucking me in the mouth, he cummed in my mouth and he said.... "Oh, oh you a
re one slutty, blutty biatch... open the mouth to see.... is it... empty and the
n he leaves me alone in the room by locking the door and before that saying that
I hav 10 minutes to dress... if i don t get dressed... it will go very... VERRY
YYYYY BAD... (with a SMILE IN HIS FACE HE SAYS THAT... HE FUCKING LIKES THAT)...
It was great that I made him to trust me and I gave him a blowjob... and withou
t even knowing... while I am doing the blowjob on his dick i just bite it very..
. very bad... which makes him to fall and to go in a circle.. (AS a time... I ha
d enough so to run away...) I was running from home as much fast as possible...i
t was the month of winter... I was fucking outside and I was naked....
- As I was walking I found a group which was with boys and girls... they looked
me and after few minutes... (You can t believe they were dieing from laugh...)..
. They were laughing very hysterically, I was fucking afraid... I was getting ve
ry embarrassed and shy...

SO FRIENDS, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays we gonna see each other very, ver
y soon in some other stories.
12/26/2016