Saturday, January 29, 2011

“The Horror of It All…In Fairmount!”

“The Horror of It All…!”

The race against time begins in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. Dead bodies were compounded from one side of the river to the other. From Alaska and down through Canada the dealers of death are pursued in the hope of bringing the killing to an end. The city’s officials are at odds with one another. The populace is on edge and demanding closure…an end to the terror that has the city in a grip of fear, turmoil, and a cold sweat of terror.

Anger, racism, and greed are exposed among the highest order. Philadelphia Police commanders are placed under tremendous strain to control its inner city workings to quell this evil overshadowing of the town. One Black Cop and the Native American Ranger are in the battle of their very lives and careers with the confrontation of white apprehension in the capture of the killer.

"Think about it. This thing on its hind legs could walk up to the average single-story house and could look on the roof at eye level." Many of the messages are from people who are skeptical and want confirmation of their doubts from the agency. About 30 percent of the messages come from hunters who are all but certain the tale is a tall one.

"I didn't want to see a photo of the body. I know it's bogus,” According to the biased reporter who stands with the status quo of city officials.

On day two of the group's hunt, the skies cleared at 8:30 a.m. The group of rangers set out to follow a creek bed upstream looking for tracks...some sign of the quarry. One of the trackers was carrying a .300-caliber Winchester Magnum. Glenn was carrying his significantly more powerful .338-caliber Winchester Magnum and a quiver of arrows with a bow in case the thing crossed their path.

The team continued following the creek upstream until they came to a small island ringed with thick brush in the middle of the Schuylkill River. Some end-of-season berries clung to the surrounding brush. In the middle of the island was a spruce tree larger than what Glenn or Genailia could fit their arms around. At the base of the tree were signs that something had tried to dig a hole…a large hole.

Suddenly, out of nowhere it lunged and snapped its jaws…another man was gone!

''We were sitting there concentrating when, a few seconds later, he pops up right in front of us, about 10 yards away and he was coming toward us,'' A tracker said. ''I don't know if the wind was in our favor or what. We were dressed in camouflage. It might not have seen us.''

''I put the scope on him. I wanted to hit him in the chest, but all I could see was nothing but head!

“Shoot! Shoot!” Said Murphy. ''I aimed for his left eye, but the bullet took an arc and I hit him about two inches low in the side of his muzzle.

''He buckled backwards and raised his head like he was going to howl at the moon, but nothing came out,'' Samuel said. ''I put two more rounds in the vital area, then three more after that. Shit, I hit him with Six total." 
A new Thriller...coming soon by Mr. Gregory V. Boulware
Anger, racism, and greed are exposed among the highest order. Philadelphia Police commanders are placed under tremendous strain to control its inner city workings to quell this evil overshadowing of the town. One Black Cop and the Native American Ranger are in the battle of their very lives and careers with the confrontation of white apprehension in the capture of the killer.

Read All About It the newest form of Terror that has gripped the City of Philadelphia…

The Fairmount Park Rapist became second fiddle to this latest horror in our city’s parkland…where no one is safe! No one is able to control, contain, or prevent the attacks of this killer that stalks the area…save one man who knows the inner workings of the mind of this murderer!

Enjoy the Park's Japanese Tea House at your own risk...

Gregory V. Boulware
"The Horror Of It All...!"

Release Date: 'Summer’ of 2013' - "Available Right Now!"

Anglers bitched and shook their fists as they rowed by, causing large ripples in the water where they dropped baited lines, anticipating the fish to bite.
Joggers were sucking it up as well and breathing the fresh crisp air. The weekend mornings were usually busier than workouts during the week.
Children were out collecting leaves and exploring the parkland. Parents, coaches, and other responsible adults were busy directing the young ones in organized game playing and such. Three boys, about the age of twelve ran by the busy groups of chess players, hikers, picnickers, bird feeders, and newspaper readers. Saturday morning was one of the best mornings for exploring and cliff climbing in the Fairmounts.

Sundays were good too.

“Hey you guys, come up here!” “You can see everything from up here!” The guys came running to the cliff in the hillside and climbed up to where Malcolm was standing. “What took you slow pokes so long?” “I should have left you.”      

“Aw shut up, we could’ve beaten you up here if we knew where you were sneaking off to.” Jason was Malcolm’s best friend and classmate. They lived on the same small block in North Philly near 30th and Lehigh Avenue. Lindsey was Malcolm’s cousin. He lived on the block too. Leon was another member of this band of merry fellows. They were usually inseparable. Leon had to go with his uncle to get new shoes. He was not able to make the traditional Saturday morning trek. He complained to his uncle. He even attempted to trick his uncle into letting him go out with the guys.
“Uncle Rue, we can go to the shoe store this afternoon just before dinner time. That way, you can make your stop at the barber shop and the liquor store on the way back.”
His uncle looked at him with a curious eye and replied, “No. We been puttin off this thing for a couple of weeks now. Its time to get you some new shoes for school…No need in waiting til the last minute!”

A thunderous roar erupted just as Lindsey placed his hand on the last rock in the cliff, pulling himself up onto the plateau. Dirt and shrubbery flew all around as if a strong wind-gust blasted through signaling a squall in a rainstorm or twister. The boy could not believe his eyes. He nearly fell backward off the ledge of the cliff. But he knew subconsciously, that he had to hang on. It’s about a twelve hundred foot drop to the bottom.     

Painful fear gripped his heart as he watched the massive tree-trunk sized object strike his cousin and lift him from the ground.

Captain Willice Samuel stood looking over the edge of the cliff, peering down onto the East river Drive. The screaming sirens of emergency vehicles filled the normally quiet environment of park life. Speeding past the stopped traffic below, the EMR vehicles made their way up the hill to the spot were the kids were playing. The Strawberry Mansion Bridge was at a stand-still as was the East River Drive traffic. Nothing and no one was being allowed to move through the area. Traffic backed up all over. Ridge Avenue was being over-run with the over flow of rush hour traffic. Both river drives, East and West, were backed up in the East Falls area of Midvale Avenue into Henry Avenue. The downtown out bound traffic was a mess. The local news on automobile radios reported the traffic mess as an accident in the park. They were not aware of the trouble that was amiss. Emergency vehicles were parked at the spot were the body of Lindsey Irvin lay at the bottom of the twelve hundred ft. drop from the cliff of the Strawberry Mansion roadway and bridge surface.

The first EMR personnel on the scene could not believe their eyes.

Gerald Glenn has been a Forrest Ranger for more than twenty years. Four of those years, his assignment had been the Northeastern Pennsylvania Region. Ranger Glenn knows everything about everything in the wild, from its greenery to the smallest of animals. Ranger Glenn pointed to something on the ground next to one of the Cherry Blossom trees, a print of something large was present. A few feet away in a southwesterly direction, off the roadway of Strawberry Mansion Drive, another large print was found. One of the CSI Investigators spoke to himself aloud, “What the fuck is this thing?”

The children’s parents and friends kept the cops at bay. The patronizing investigative detectives of the Central Philadelphia Juvenile Division, made every attempt to question the boys. They brought their cynical inquisition right at the parents. Implying child neglect, child endangerment, and reckless behavior on the adults - they are responsible for the dead and injured kids. Leon is 13 years old, Jason 12, Malcolm 13, and Lindsey would have been 15 on his birthday, November 5th. The attack occurred October 26.

Uncle Rue kept Leon close by his side during the funeral ceremony, his mother on the other. The Xavier Family kept Malcolm from outside influences as well. Relatives and friends continually gawked at the boys while whispering in the ears of one another…commenting and nodding continually. The air in the parlor was stifling. It was permeated with floral scents, perfume, cologne, body odor, and sweat. The air-conditioner was sorely needed although the ambient temperature was 32 degrees on the outside of the building.

Sally squeezed Genailia almost to the point of breathlessness, and made damned sure his crotch aligned perfectly with her soft but firm posterior. The professor took no notice due to the swift lift and rush from the ground and into a concession stand, away from the gunfire.
Once inside the shelter, she found herself back on the ground. Salestian kicked open the door. The door was designed to open outward. The blow shattered the doorway molding, locks and latches. He then shoved the beautiful professor inside and down to the floor beneath the counter of the booth.
The service window remained open to customers but the staff had flown the coop when the gunfire erupted. She began to take notice of Sally’s intent when she felt his gyrating hips on her ass. The man also brandished an immense erection while licking the blood off the side of her face. The feeling of his stiffness is what aroused her suspicions.

Armed to the gills, SWAT team and police officers swarmed and swooped down on the zoo area. Their attempt at restoring order only made a bad situation worse. The platform around the giant helium balloon caught some high-powered slugs as well. The pings, whistles, and whizzes combined with flying shards of marble and stone penetrated the air. The sharp flying debris made it highly dangerous and volatile for people scrambling for cover.

The mayor and the city commissioners all arrived upon the scene where Captain Noodles was killed. His remains, a pool of gore, was scooped into a jar and packed into a white box on one of the ambulances assigned to transport crime scene material. Willis, Glenn, and Reese did not wait around for them to show up. They had already started out for the area of The Philadelphia Zoo . 

The ivory white and razor sharp weaponry of the animal came to bear. Its target was easily at hand and ready to be served rare and meaty. The attendant was an individual of considerable stature. He stood 6’ 3,” weighed 2631/2 lbs. and was able to move like greased lightning. The massively built ebon frame once graced the grid iron of Franklin Field. His star position was a first line backer for Joe Pa’s famed ‘Nitany Lions.’
The star athletes’ speed and prowess allowed him to keep pace with the escaped young-uns; but could not save him from the jaws of death, as wielded by the ferociously dangerous and enraged animal. The beasts’ eye flashed red as its jaws opened wide. In preparation to snap shut on its savory victim, the pointed 7.5x3.1 inch molars swiftly clamped downward. The shrilled scream of the hapless morsel sounded like that of and ear-piercing siren. It filled the air and all of the eardrums in the vicinity.

Willis and Gerald stood staring at one another for what seemed like an hour. It was only for a few seconds before they were able to speak.
“Damn Man…he’s a big mutha, ain’t he?” That was all that Willis was able to squawk.
 We’ve gotta bag his ass…he’s just beggin for it!” Gerald’s eyes flashed when he made that statement.
“What do you mean by that?” Asked Willis.
“I’ve got something that’ll just tickle his fancy since ordinary rounds and arrows won’t kill him. I’ve got to treat him like Luthor treats Superman.”

“Well son, take a lesson…sometimes you just got to have a little bit of an imagination, especially when you’re dealing with the unimaginable.”
"The Horror Of It All...!"

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