(70) Vlad Tepes

(70) Vlad Tepes.

My account of the following events covering a span of 60 years remains a mystery.

It ends, in every way, with the impossibility of ever recovering the information missing to understand what really happened, what were the real motives involved, real issues at stake and how they are definately connected to the events in my account.

In all certainty though, it begins in my home town. To support the war effort, a powder factory was built during the 40's.

The next part of the information was given to me by my parents, as what an explosion occured, caused by some accident.

There was damage. Some odd looking cement pillars with heavy square flat tops are aligned in 2 short series along the road of a busy intersection, preserved as historical evidence.

The factory became converted into a high school bearing a name forever remembering the factory. As you would know, some parts of it were never destroyed and kept either as architecture, artefact or monumental decoration.

The most important detail at this point are the pillars as I'd see them once a week on our way and back from chapel, as a boy of 5. I left town 5 years later and came back in my early 20's to seize a work opportunity while on a visit.

This is what brings me to the second part of my account. Being back in town, I got a chance of getting near the pillars again and felt drawn to them the same way I ever was. I got much closer, and if it wasn't for the fence around them, I would have walked directly to one and posed a hand, palm to cement, to feel something, and would have gladly walked around them to observe carefully evey detail. I

held back regretfully and turned to explore the grounds instead. The highschool was lucky to have an immense stretch of woods going south-west, with many paths opening on its westerly rim. Judging by all the trash and garbage littered everywhere, I doubt the students at that school didn't see anything there lucky enough to keep clean.

The southerly stretch was mostly lined with fence and cars driving by all day. Before entering a path, I went to examine some two old cement squares on the open court and a two stepped cement square, of large proportions. It reminded me of a smaller scale Mexican style pyramid!

There was another big square on it made of pushed in bricks. I shall never forget this moment. Pleasantly suprised as I was to discover it for the same time, these historical features, it was absolutely also the beginning only of what I was going to find out and of the change in my life forever, only just right before it did and did.

I shall never forget that the pillars, the school, the immediate grounds I surveyed on that day was before I knew anything at all I was drawn in by an ominous sense of mystery.

. I walked along the rim and saw a well open trodden path. Furthur along the trees got smaller, distanced and there were but a few pines among all those thin birch everywhere. Some parts of these woods were still squishy underfoot from the last melted snows of april.

For an easier hike I went back to the first open path. Right away I came across nice pieces of bright brick, authentic, with a slight inward curve. Some had letters precisely carved. On one piece I found, well too walked in the ground to remove with my fingers alone were the letters "eck" plainly visible.

Finally, there was brick everywhere, like from ruins. These were ruins! Of the factory? Even a preliminary observation reveals construction materials of two different projects undertaken at two areas especially, that stood out oddly.

To the left, before I even reached it, I saw the cement outline of a modest rectangle foundation a few steps from the path. Two thin thin birch had begun growing within the rectangle.

A greening thick growth covered even some parts of the foundation, common in those days, thick massive stone cement. There was however, two smaller sqaures of cement foundation within the large rectangle, like this:(use your imagination).

I wondered if this once was a small house, and the small squares, what had they been? For one thing, the bigger of the two squares was neatly covered with a pretty thick growth and leaves, twigs, and rocks.

All very interesting. I helped my self with pieces of branches and flat rocks to dig in this bigger square. I rubbed my fingers to clear the surface and continued. With strong twigs I could loosen rocks and earth. With the sharp edge of the flat rock I traced out the perimeter of.a.square, cut in rows like a chessboard.

With so much activity on the school grounds I couldn't take the chance of being seen searching that spot. I would return before sunset, a more fitting time to walk the paths than when it get dark. A flahlight would also risk giving me.away.

I did bring with me a few small useful tools, like a small spade and a brush. When I reached the school, I felt as though an invisible magnet was compelling me to approach, to discover.

The wooded area was shrouding more than an old factory. There was wisdom in this concealment, like the protective wingspan of Isis affectionately comemorating something of value.

When I reached the mysterious foundation, I stood a while soaking in the sight and breathed in deeply and slowly. I had a flash at precisely that moment.

For something possibly shorter than a split second, I saw in my inner mind, from up close, an open wooden coffin, a skeletal hand sticking out from an army colored jacket.

I went back to work clearing the top soil of the smaller square. There was nothing of interest, except a piece of brown glass. Before leaving, I cleared the last bit of a section I traced in the big square foundation.

there was some annoying lengths of thick dark gray cotton material that reminded me of a scarf, but shaped like a long Christmas guirland. At one point, the "scarf" , had a closed pouch. There was a rectangular box shaped object in the pouch kept fastened closed with the help of many black strings with a red pearl hanging at the end of each.

they looked like drops of blood. Nothing else noteworthy could be described except perhaps the austere and plain nature of what he found. The only point of interest was the rectangular box. It was light, and made no sound handling, the contents, if any, were not loosely rolling around.

I put the oddity in my reusable bag, placed many long branches full of leaves over the section I worked in.

I walked hurriedly home,eager to see the contents. The only appeal was tje obvious fact a box was there, and the red pearls. The only correlation I saw was in traditional and folkloric customs.

I was correct about this, I learned much later. Though I would have been at a loss trying to identify traits with any known first nations artefacts.

When I was finally ready at the table with the odd woolen garlande. I took small scissors and carefully freed each string from its stitches keeping the box enclosed.

It was indeed a lightweight wooden box. No rattling sounds! The only feature the box offered as noticeable are all the signs of use and handling it had been subjected to.

There were plenty of scratches and scrapes, but no other pearl, markings or symbol. I was clearly under the impression the purpose this served was as a weight, although not heavy, could still be used to keep the long scarf from loosely dangle if it was hung from the ceiling.

The box was not locked but had a roll of twisted leaves placed in the circle openimg keeping the lid closed. They were so dry they practically disintegrated when I pulled them out. Only a.stub was left.

I lifter the lid. The inside was filled tight with a dense lightweight foam material. Completely dry to the touch. The surface was uneven, but what stood out were the four round holes that were made.

I put my index into one and about halfwayI found something!

I must have known, there was an inexplicable mystery behind it all, that was growing thicker and more forebading by the minute. This is how I'm connected with something otherwise wholly unrelated to me, in history, but as I've realized, somehow in spirit.

Over myself in awe, joy and mystery, I closed the object in my hand and closed my eyes.

I saw again in my mind's eye, brief glimpses that past this foundation, there were a few more, but seemingly of a type of installation would need to function in its duties related to the powder factory.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a chunk of a dirty

There was even a small round cement hearth, the bottom of a chimeny tower., but covered with growth and what looked like recent human intervention to keep the stove in use. The semi circle opening was black with recent ashes and several piles of long thin birch bundles ready nearby. The overall foundation was constructed on the length, narrow, and seemed to be made for heavy work, again related to the factory. Numerous parts were destroyed, by the explosion itself? Promising myself to come back, I left in a hurry to check out my treasure. Even if it had been only rocks, it was still a treasure to me, but it turned out to be that exactly. In the silver metal case were gems that looke so perfect, I knew they must be extremely valuable both financially and historically. I had no idea where they came from, what country or time. They felt like they were but pieces of much greater hoard. I never told anyone this before, my found treasure, and that I have become most wealthy. The same night I contacted a reliable friend who contacted another, needless to say, in the utter most secret, on order to sell the gems to a truly serious aknowledged collector. Well the same night, my friend took my case of gems to someone. 15 minutes later, he came back empty handed, but with the news my gems are authentic, bought, and the agreed amount alresdy deposited in my checkings account. It was true. If that in itself so far, isn't suprising enough, there was, the very next day an extraordinary turn of events. Sometime in the morning, my friend knocked and entered, followed by a lawer type guy. Their was a slight change. Before I could nearly die of exclamation point shock, he explained I'm just as wealthy, I'm just needed to allow yesterday's client to take his money back. The gems weren't his to keep. He entrusted them to the right hands and will now only recuperate his money. His payment will be replaced by a slightly larger amount by those who restored the gems to the rest of the "man's" belongings, to whom belonged the foundation and the installations around it. This is where I first started to research on my own. The foundation and the installations were not related to the factory the same way I had thought. They were built before! Before the war, purposely ruined to recreate destruction by explosions of war all while leaving his own living quarters barely intact. Immediately after, in 1935, he left for europe to wait for the war to begin, for the fighting to start. He's the one who initiated the building project for the factory and funded it. He came back 10 years after the war, in 1955 to isolate himself inside his "home" and around his "works". He was a wared man, bruised in ruins before a war, worse than ever, and when he died, his doctor contacted his notary who in turn had all his belongings removed from the house and installations. These were put into wooden crates and taken away. I never found out who exactly did the job. 2 years later, in 1957, again in accordance to his will, the house and installations were further demolished. A lot of rubble was removed, but plenty remained. The rest are ruins that are himself, or so I learnt he hoped, that they would come to be known, and represent his all his former identity now merged in the ruins. This new fortune of mine could never disassociate itself in my mind with the man and his life. All unmentioned details are unknown to me. Finding this so mysterious, I resolved to find out more, and the information on this part of my account was researched by me again. This is about another's history. It turns out the man really had 2 treasures. I had found one of them. No one knows why he buried it. I was granted a very generous offer for this find of mine and of their recovering it. The other treasure was taken from the house in 1955, at the same time as the rest of all his belongings and objects. It hadn't been buried. This one wasn't gems either. Documents. His other treasure was several documents. There was for certain a very esoteric history and foundations of a brotherhood. This was retranscribed from originals now destroyed. His other document9kms included for certain an exteremly important evidence of human misanthropy on global existencial level willingly supressed from public and even governmental knowledge. Sparked by what he witnessed especially at a precise time at war in europe. Also for certain, and considered just as priceless as the previous, is a tape, for audio playback. It is only known he mentioned the post return to old battlegrounds. Why? He mentions hate, about hatred, descriptions reminiscent of occult practices, and incredibly, a summoned invokation of a beast, the recorded sound of roaring grunts, gutturals that sound crocodile like, savage, wild and furious. There's more, much more. But this is the all closest I could ever get to the contents of that treasure. This man has no known relatives, saw no one, this is why this part of the account opens another history. It is not known who the people in the will are, how they are connected. Over time I think and feel more and more that the "man" served as somekind of founding figure for "them", somehow once connected, parted till the terms of the will reunite them again as objects in crates. They apparently never returned to visit him in his guise as ruins, bruised and collapsed. It is certain they are in europe and form a brotherhood, directly inspired from some different ancient textes. Although rites of initiation appear certain and something involving a little bloodletting, notions of a certain sacrifice, the bulk of their practices are philosophical in action. Though unusual, it is felt violence and deaths occured among them or to others. Brothers chose a name found in the textes, representing a spiritual being or occult phenomena mentioned in the textes. It is not certain if this was an obligation to all, but many expressed the philosophy concerning them to music. All about those pieces would be thoroughly authentic, of historical documentary worth, for(?), a perfection in sound, vocals, construction, typicality. The brothers seem like individuals strongly characterized. There is a female member. She is deeply involved(in what?) and forms part of the nucleus, the original founding members(with the "man"?). She knows everything, all the secrets. For some reason causing dissent, and this isn't at all clear--she would have made their most cherished secrets publicly accesible,, along with documentary evidence, pictures of areas in the textes where names were derived, and even, for the very first time, she would have made accesible to other ears many audio files, that figure as the only existing examples of this most refined of art. Like in a damaged manuscript you can't make out anymore and miss out on invaluable information depriving you in some cases of the very meaning or outcome of an event, so are the events in this part of my account, more uncertain than any other part of it, because of so many unanswered questions. This breach of information was percieved as treason by the brotherhood. She definately was in some big monastery like building out in the country somewhere, and she constantly retreated from a mob of murderous brothers. Did she die? I don't know what happened but the brotherhood was hurt, the information given unintended in the highest degree. Some went on to form a tighter, grimmer brotherhood while others joined the underground scenes and remained obscure. I never would have thought on the day "I'll never forget", before I knew anything at all, at all, that there was yet still another history involved even harder to connect to the previous 2, but some scant elements are there. For this part of my account, I used the help of my trusted friend. In eastern europe, close to the western border, there is a small resistence group. Quite humble, guerilla type. More like an armed family. They have a few powerful weapons. They are threatened by a racist group. This part again is badly damaged by holes of missing information: documents again--series of small "books"? Something about including some family somewhere (in the prints?) There is a culmination of tension, time is pressing. A confrontation is scheduled. Help should come through allies. A youth got shot by the racists. Although they left (?), and did not obtain what they wanted (?), they aren't defeated but it's a victory for the eastern resistence group. For some reason, musicians like the ones of the brotherhood were involved directly in battle or officially stating position as racist. Some musicians in particular have chronicled these last events, in all certainty, in song. The musicians involved in these last events are believed to be connected with the brotherhood previously mentioned. Nothing ever more could be recovered to supply missing history. It is, to conclude, absolutely certain that much much more is implied then was recollected through my research. It is certain that there was infinately more implied. These last events led me though, to a string of connections down another path. Having done so ended my research. It also concludes that part

of my life, my account, that I was willing to contribute.