A Leaving Reality Story
by Jeremy Gladstone
Case File #Y7JSS914 - Stuart Styron - Investigation Notes On Location 2:20AM-6:40AM from Sunday 02/01/2015. Findings and notes recorded & reported by investigative journalist Jeremy Gladstone who has hereby sworn that all accounts, writings and submissions here are completely 100% based in fact.
I’m not going to start this off by telling you it was just a night like any other night or I wouldn’t be writing this at all. I had recently been on vacation in Germany...I had actually made a conscious decision to put this pen and paper DOWN for a moment; and for about five or so days there, I had managed to enjoy myself somewhat. It’s not easy for me...I live in a dark & dank world full of grimy people that should know better than to do whatever it is they’re up to when I show up. But for a moment there...F*** it. This isn’t about me and what I want; never has been.
At approximately 2AM in the morning I came out of the Fratbrau, a ridiculous nightclub in Germany with ancient strippers that looked as if each time they bent over they’d never stand up straight again... I might have had a few beers...maybe a scotch or two...nothing I couldn’t handle and it certainly doesn’t change a single minute of what I was about to see.
As I stumbled through the dark alley behind the club, I walked by the desolate and hopeless as I began to stumble back to my hotel...people trying to stay dry from the rain...basically living in carved-out holes in the side of these buildings in the alley...disgusting...
Up ahead to my left...I saw the dense & dark shadow of a tall mysterious figure I couldn’t quite make out through the downpour of rain that was increasing with my every step toward it, as if to tell me through nature itself to stay away. Through the mist and haze of the alley...I could make out the tail-lights of a parked vehicle...a van of some sort. The back doors of the van were open...as I got closer I could hear a God-awful idea of what ‘music’ was supposed to be coming from the stereo...
I felt like I was pressed up against the side of the alley so hard I was a part of its very structure as I moved slowly through the alley. The shadow-man was loading something into the back of the van...I’m still not sure what it was, even now. The cases were large and they looked extremely heavy; the figure would struggle as he piled case upon case upon case into the back of the van. Even through the rain & mist I can smell the guilty...that’s my job. And as he’d load these cases with each walk back and forth his head looked as if it was on a swivel as his eyes checked for intruders in the alley...but he can’t seem to spot me moving slowly against the building walls toward him. He was coughing horribly. He sounds as sick and disgusting as the music I could hear.
There was a moment when I thought the sauce had gotten the better of me. As I became extremely close to the van I tucked myself away in a shadow and hid in the safety of the dark to observe. My instincts told me that something was beyond-wrong here...that the chill in my spine came from much more than the cold callousness of this heartless alley. I looked up to a neon-glow breaking through the dark-haze being quickly turned out as another bar in Germany was closing up for the evening. It was called The Rembrandt...and I got the license plate of the van...HH0482...just in case...
The shadow-figure was much closer now...and not scary at all when you could get a good look in the daytime I bet. Looked like one of them metro-sexual types. As he carried one last massive case to shove into the back of the van...I swore he looked straight at me and that we locked eyes for a moment. I froze...and thankfully, two other people came out of the door behind this guy and into the alley, pushing the door closed with a haunting creaking-sound and massive bang as it clicked shut.
“Great show tonight Styron,” one of them said sarcastically as he began to walk down the alley, leaving the other two to stand there at the tail-end of the van.
“F*** you,” said the figure I presumed was ‘Styron.’
“Forget him,” said the other looming-figure, “did you get everything you needed to out of there? You’re not coming back here again.”
“F*** you too,” said Styron, and spat on his shoes. The looming-giant swung a punch to Styron’s gut so hard I thought his kidney would land next to me. Something shiny dropped from his pocket and onto the dirty alley floor as Styron dropped to the ground. The beast picked him up by the back of the jacket and tossed him against the back of the van doors, slamming him into it like a two-vehicle accident. It looked as if the van itself began to bleed...like there was something dripping out of the back doors where he was thrown up against.
“Do you f**** understand? You’re not welcome here. You’re a f**** freak, your music is sick, twisted and unlistenable...but the worst part is that you make every single person that crosses your path completely uncomfortable. People feel like they need to have a shower after only standing NEXT to you...that’s how disgusting and f**** untalented you are.” The hulking man-beast was shouting two inches from Styron’s face...the van continued to bleed...and safe in the shadows I watched and took shots from the flask I’d been holding onto for the walk back to the hotel.
“Get the f*** out of here. And don’t come back, ever,” the larger shadow slapped Styron across the face and led him to the driver’s side of the van...I couldn’t see the rest now without giving myself away. I would be roughly half the weight and size of this massive maniac...that’s not a risk I was willing to take...
The van roared to life and the terrible music that was playing stopped for a blissful moment as the engine came on...then right back to the god-awful sounds of whatever was playing from the stereo. The large figure turned and left...leaving the alley to the right and into the darkness...and the van, carrying this mysterious-figure known as ‘Styron’ pulled out slowly and drove at a pervert’s speed down the alley and out onto the street away from view.
I tried to think about what a train-wreck of a performance he must have put on for a bouncer to get that enraged and basically ban him from ever coming back as I finished off the end of whatever liquid was in my flask. And I laughed to myself as I got up, realizing I had taken all of this way too far in my mind. That’s the problem with us sensationalist-journalist f***; if there’s not really a story to be had...we just make them up. If anyone else was in the alley at that time, they would have sworn I was the madman as I rose to my feet and started towards the middle of the alley where the van had been parked; I was laughing hysterically at this point...at myself entirely for being such a fool...and perhaps I was a little drunk.
As I approached the center of the alley, something shiny caught my eye through the grime of the alley-floor...it looked like a card or a piece of paper...it was covered in something...
I bent down to take a closer look and to pick it up...it looked like an ID card of some sort...it was face down in something sticky and gross, looked like it had been stepped on several times as the giant was beating upon ‘Styron.’ Whatever it was laying there in, was spread out all over the alley floor the more I looked around...leading away in a thin line the same direction that the van had driven off in.
I felt sick to my stomach as I reached down and pulled this card out of the liquid. It was so f*** dark that colors didn’t exist at this hour...but I knew as soon as I turned it over and held the light of my phone to it what I was about to see...
Blood. Everywhere. Unexplainable, thick and coating the entire side of the alley right around where the van had been parked...much much more than ‘Styron’ would have bled out taking those punches... This was an entire person’s-worth of blood soaking here into the alley floor. Careful not to step in it and become part of this impending crime-scene...I reached in with the tips of my very fingernails to retrieve the card and turned it over in my hand.
Wiping away the blood...it was a security card of some kind...the business name simply read SLR. Who knows what they did...at the moment I didn’t care. At the moment, for the first time I was looking directly into the cold steel-eyes and blood-smeared face of a man I now knew for a certainty, to be Stuart Styron.
I know his name now...but I don’t have much to go on. I only have this ID card and the endless pool of blood...
But there’s no way I can leave Germany now, I have to follow this up...this could be the very break I was looking for....
...to be continued
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