Crown Towers Sydney 5-Star Luxury Hotel in Barangaroo

Prince Rainier III (1923-2005)
Rainier’s mother, Princess Charlotte, was actually illegitimate. Her father Louis II, getting older and with no legitimate children, legitimized her and made her his heir. She never took the throne, and in fact renounced her rights to her son, Rainier, the day before his 21st birthday.
Rainier became the Sovereign Prince of Monaco upon the death of his grandfather in 1949.
During WW2, Rainier served in the Free French Army. During the 40s and 50s he was in a long term relationship with the French film actress Gisele Pascal. Rainier’s sister, Princess Antoinette, wanted her own son to ascend to the throne, and spread rumors that Pascal was infertile. The rumors along with her treatment by the press and public ended their relationship.
After the war Monaco, a country who made its money primarily as a gambling origin, was in crisis as wealthy Europeans found their funds diminished after the war. To restore Monaco’s treasury Rainier decided to promote Monaco as a tax haven, and he personally took control of SBM (the company who owns the Monte Carlo Casino, Opera, and Hostel de Paris) in 1964. Prince Albert still retains a large share of the company and profits from it today.
Marriage:
Everyone knows this one. Rainier married American film star Grace Kelly in 1956.
Their marriage is rumored to have been turbulent. It is said that Grace struggled with adjusting to royal life, regretted ending her film career, and that Rainier had extramarital affairs. Her children have stated that though she was a loving mother, they spent more time with nannies than with their parents.
Grace's dress is iconic, but here you go if you want to revisit some photos from that day.
Rainier smoked up to 60 cigarettes per day, and in the last years of his life his health steadily declined. On March 8th, 2005 he entered the hospital for a lung infection and by the end of the month he was on a ventilator suffering from renal and heart failure. On March 31st he officially announced his son Albert, as regent, and on April 6th he died.
The Constitution
Monaco’s constitution stated that Monaco is a constitutional monarchy ruled by the hereditary princes of the Grimaldi. If the reigning prince were to die without leaving a male heir, Monaco, according to the treaty, would be incorporated into France. In 2002, realizing he had a 43 year old bachelor son, Rainier amended the constitution to allow the crown to pass to his daughters should Albert not marry.
Grace, Princess of Monaco (1929-1982)
Grace was born in Philadelphia to an affluent and influential family. Her father was an Olympian and a Democratic nominee for Mayor of Philadelphia and was appointed by President Roosevelt as National Director of Physical Fitness. Her mother taught physical education at the University of Pennsylvania and coached women’s athletics at Penn.
Her Uncle, George Kelly, was a Pulitzer prize winning dramatist, screenwriter, and director and used his influence to gain Grace admission to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York. Grace became one of the biggest movie stars of her generation.
In 1955 she was sent to the Cannes Film Festival and invited to appear in photos with Prince Rainier. After a year-long courtship, they were married in 1956.
Grace was not allowed to continue her acting career after her marriage. She instead devoted herself to her role as Princess, become heavily involved with the Red Cross of Monaco and the Rainbow Children Coalition.
On September 13, 1982, Kelly was driving back to Monaco after spending time at her country home. During the drive she had a stroke, lost control of her vehicle, and drove off the mountainside. She died a day later.
An article on their relationship
Prince Albert II (b. 1958)
Prince Albert is one of the wealthiest royals in the world with a net worth at more than $1B. He attended Amherst College in Massachusetts, studying political science, economics, music, and English literature, and completed his education with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Political Science. He toured Europe in 1979 as part of the Amherst College Glee Club.
Albert competed in the bobsleigh for five consecutive Winter Olympics on behalf of Monaco, and was their flag bearer at the 1988, 1994, and 1998 Olympics. He is also a judo black belt.
He became Prince of Monaco when his father died in 2005.
Marriage:
Prior to his marriage his status as a bachelor was a hot topic of discussion. He was known to date well-known fashion models and actresses, however at age 53 had never married. It was rumored that Albert was gay, something he expressed great frustration with in the press. In 2006 he attended the opening ceremony of the Torino Olympics with South African swimmer Charlene Wittstock. They were engaged in 2010, and married in 2011.
There are rumors that Charlene tried to flee the country the day before their wedding. It is reported that the future bride, after discovering Albert may have fathered yet another child during their relationship, attempted to flee as many as three times before their wedding, however was always intercepted at the airport. It is also said she attempted to seek refuge at the South African embassy, and that officials in Monaco ended up hiding her passport so she could not leave the country.
Moreover, during their wedding, Charlene openly cried at parts, and Prince Albert was caught on camera begging her to kiss him. Honestly, she looked pretty miserable the whole time. The palace has denied all of these claims.
During their honeymoon, they stayed in separate hotels
Here's everything you ever needed to know about their wedding
Watch it
Prince Albert is passionate about the environment and an avid sportsman. Prince Albert speaks French, English, German, and Italian. He speaks English with basically no accent thanks to his American mother.
Illegitimate Children
In 2005, the day before Prince Rainier died, Albert publicly acknowledged he had fathered a son out of wedlock. In 2006, he confirmed he had also fathered a daughter. These children were barred from the line of inheritance because of a 2002 constitutional amendment requiring an heir’s parents to be married.
Alexandre (b. 2003)
Alexandre’s mother (Nicole Coste) was a flight attendant for Air France and met Prince Albert when he was a passenger on a flight. He asked for her number, the beginning of a years-long affair. The relationship ended at the insistence of Prince Rainier. Albert visited Alexandre and Nicole often, however when he refused to acknowledge Alexandre publicly, Nicole sold an interview and pictures to the media. Albert was in mourning for his father and made no public comment, but later did acknowledge paternity. Alexandre and Nicole live in France at an estate given to them by Albert.
Jazmin (b. 1992)
Jazmin’s mother, Tamara, met Albert while working as a waitress. Albert knew of Jazmin and visited her, however did not acknowledge her publicly until she was in high school to protect her identity. In 2006 the French magazine Voici published photographs of Jazmin and her mother on a visit to Monaco, outing her as Albert’s daughter. She has attended events with Albert and Charlene, and is listed as a sponsor for her father’s royal foundation.
An interview with Jazmin
Princess Charlene (b. 1978)
Born in Zimbabwe, Charlene’s family relocated to South Africa in 1989. She represented South Africa at the 2000 Sydney Olympics, finished fifth in the 4x100 meter relay.
Albert and Charlene met at the Mare Nostrum swimming competition in Monaco in 2000, however were not seen together until 2006.
Charlene converted to Roman Catholicism for her wedding, and has learned French and Monegasque after her move to Monaco. She is an ambassador for the Special Olympics, patron of the South African Red Cross, and is passionate about sport.
In recent news, she completed “the crossing” water bike challenge, a 180 kilometer water bike race for charity.
An interview with Charlene and Albert on the 1st birthday of their twins
Albert and Charlene have 2 children:
Hereditary Prince Jacques *twin* (b. 2014)
Princess Gabriella *twin* (b. 2014)
Gabriella was born 2 minutes before her brother, however because of the constitution her brother will inherit the throne. They are super sweet together and you see them at events often.
Princess Caroline of Hanover (b. 1957)
Caroline is the eldest child of Rainier and Grace Kelly, however because of the constitution her brother, Albert, sits on the throne of Monaco. She served as de facto first lady of Monaco until the marriage of Albert and Charlene.
Until the birth of her niece and nephew she was heir presumptive to the throne, although she had only held that title since 2005 after the change of the constitution to include female heirs.
Caroline received her French baccalaureat in 1974, and received a degree in Philosophy from Sorbonne University. She is fluent in French, English, Spanish, German, and Italian. Her hobbies include horseback riding, swimming, and skiing.
Marriages:

Marriage 1: Philippe Junot

Married Phillippe, a Parisian banker, in 1978. The couple divorced in 1980 with no children.

Marriage 2: Stefano Casiraghi

Married Stefano in 1983, the sportsman heir to an Italian industrial fortune. The two had to marry in a civil ceremony rather than a religious ceremony because Caroline, a Catholic, was divorced. Caroline was 3 months pregnant at the time of their wedding.
They have three children:

Andrea Casiraghi (1984)

Married to Tatiana Santo Domingo and has 3 children

Charlotte Casiraghi (1986)

Married to French producer Dimitri Rassam and has two children

Pierre Casiraghi (b. 1987)

Married to Beatrice Borromeo and has 2 children

Note: The Casiraghi’s are all very beautiful and very fashionable but I don’t want to go much into them here because they are so far down the line of succession. They’re fun to follow for their fashion if you have the time to check them out.

Marriage 3: Prince Ernst August of Hanover

Married Ernst August, a Prince, in 1999. They have one daughter, Princess Alexandra.
Caroline is thus a Princess twice-over, through her family and through her husband. She and Ernst August have been separated since 2009 however are still legally married, thus she retains the title of Princess Caroline of Hanover.
Read about all of her weddings here
See her speaking in English around 12:00 here
Princess Stephanie (b. 1965)
Stephanie was in the vehicle with her mother when Grace died. She suffered a fracture of the neck.
She has studied classical dance and piano, and competed in gymnastics and horse riding. She interned at Christian Dior and debuted as a model in 1984. She has a swimwear and perfume line, and owns cafes and stores in both Monaco and Barcelona. She also has sold more than 2 million copies of her song, Ouragan, and sold 1.5M copies of her album Besoin. She recorded “In the Closet” with Michael Jackson, however is listed as “mystery girl” in the credits.
Marriages/Relationships:

Marriage 1: Daniel Ducruet

Stephanie married her former body guard, Daniel Ducruet, in 1995. When Rainier learned of their relationship Daniel was not only still his employee, but had a pregnant girlfriend too. Stephanie gave birth to their two children “out of wedlock” because Rainier refused to grant permission for them to marry, however eventually relented. The two divorced a year later after Ducruet was photographed naked with a stripper.
Read more
They have two children:

Louis (b. 1992)

Married Marie Chevallier in 2019

Pauline (b. 1994)

Relationship 2: Jean Raymond Gottlieb

Stephanie and Jean never married, however have a child together. He was Rainier’s Head of Security. She did not identify him on the birth certificate and it was not confirmed that he was Camille’s father until she confirmed it herself on her Instagram.
More about Jean

Marriage 3: Franco Knie

Stephanie met elephant trainer (yeah, you read that right) when she presented him with the award for “best animal tamer” at the Monaco Circus Festival in 1997. Franco, a decade older than Stephanie, was married with two children at the time. Franco left his family for Stephanie, moving her and her three children into his circus caravan in Zurich. Marrying in 2001, their relationship lasted 18 months until their divorce.
An interview with Stephanie in English in 1990
Why is he a Prince and not a King?
From vogue:
It goes back deep into the history of Monaco. Monaco has always been a tiny nation, and, for protection, allied itself with (or, at some points, was flat-out annexed by) big powerful countries, with big powerful rulers—aka kingdoms, or, a nation ruled by a king or queen. So Monaco’s rulers styled themselves as prince and princess. That, by definition, made the nation a principality, or one ruled by prince or princess.
Regardless, Albert actually plays a bigger role in the day to day operations of the country than most of his European peers. Legislative power is divided between the Prince who initiates the laws, and the National Council who votes on them. Executive power is retained by the Prince, and he has full judiciary powers.
Jewels
See their tiara collection
I think the Ocean Tiara, gifted to Charlene for her wedding, is particularly interesting. You either love it or you hate it.
The Grimaldi Curse
What do you think?

Australia Goes Back to the 1980s With Its Economy Closed to World

Australia’s success in curbing Covid-19 infections is allowing it to slowly ease some restrictions even as it remains largely closed off from the rest of the world, taking its economy back to the pre-globalization era.
Mining and agriculture continue to support exports and a government-sponsored group is looking at ways to revive manufacturing. But the flow of foreign tourists, students and immigrants has been frozen, pinning hopes for a rebound on local consumption.
The closed borders and domestic reliance has the economy harking back to the 1980s, before the lifting of tariffs opened up trade and Paul Hogan offered to put another shrimp on the Barbie for international visitors.
Services Driven Nearly two-thirds of economic output from service industries
Australian Bureau of Statistics
Nominal gross value added, 2018-19
The capacity of services to quickly turnaround and the fact Aussies aren’t blowing savings on holidays abroad could help the nation fare better than many developed-world peers. Much will depend on the mood of households as unemployment rises, with a poor construction outlook adding to headwinds.
What Bloomberg’s Economists Say “Close to 1 million Australians per month traveled overseas in 2019. They will now be looking for a change of destination, heading to Noosa instead of Nusa Dua; Port Douglas, not Penang; and catching up with friends at bars in Melbourne Laneways, instead of Hong Kong’s mid levels. Containment measures change the economics of international travel.”
James McIntyre, economist
Household consumption, which makes up around 55% of the economy, has been boosted on the one hand by people stocking up on essentials during the lockdown, but hammered on the other as they couldn’t eat out or go to the movies. Shops and restaurants are gradually reopening but, for consumption to drive any rebound, households must put aside concerns over job security and debt to drive spending. That may be tough.
Wesfarmers Ltd. is seeing shift in consumer behavior across its retail portfolio. Home improvement and office products stores, Bunnings and Officeworks, have seen significant uplift in sales, while general merchandise stores, Target and Kmart, have seen sales slow.
Pessimistic households have consumption outlook seeming bleak Even before Covid-19, Australian households were among the most indebted in the developed world, with debt almost double disposable income. The threat of unemployment to people’s ability to meet their debts is now key, and the Reserve Bank of Australia has long acknowledged it as a major risk facing the economy.
The unemployment rate is currently 6.2%, with the central bank expecting it to peak at around 10%. Banks are offering repayment holidays to help tide homeowners over and have quadrupled provisions for an expected surge in bad debts.
Australia Passes Massive Stimulus Measures as Virus Spreads People wait in line outside a Centrelink office in the Bondi Junction suburb of Sydney, March 2020.Photographer: Brendon Thorne/Bloomberg The absence of skilled migration due to closed national borders will also hit pause on what had been steady stream of profitable mortgage lending for the banks. That could flow through to housing prices if sustained.
Commonwealth Bank of Australia said its base case is for an 11% fall in home prices, though in a prolonged downturn a cumulative 32% slump is possible. National Australia Bank Ltd. said in a severe downturn, prices could plummet 21% this year.
Uncertainty and job insecurity impacting property market Residential construction typically closely follows house price movements, and the sector was already scaling back activity following the previous flood of new stock still working its way into the market.
The RBA earlier this month said that indications from the initial stages of the development process suggests demand for new housing “has deteriorated significantly.” It expects dwelling investment to plunge 17% in the 12 months through June and remain a drag on growth until 2021.
Property investors have been hit by the six month moratorium on tenancy evictions during coronavirus. Without renewed interest from investors, it’s challenging to get a new apartment development, particularly of any size, into construction.
The same holds for business investment. Unless the project was already underway, or is related to creating a covid-safe environment, capital expenditure plans have been parked until demand returns.
Natural Endowment Things look brighter as you leave the cities. Internationally, Australia is known as a commodity powerhouse. While it accounts for just 10% of output, it is a key source of export income and prosperity in the country.
Iron ore shipments from Port Hedland, a key export hub, hit a record for April, while gold sales from Perth Mint -- the main refiner -- also surged. Fortescue Metals Group Ltd. lifted its projected annual iron ore shipments in a wager on China’s recovery. “We are selling everything we can possibly produce,” Chairman Andrew Forrest says.
Net exports important source of economic growth It’s less rosy for the liquefied natural gas producers. Just as the coronavirus sent the global economy into lockdown, Russia and Saudi Arabia began a standoff that sent oil prices tumbling below zero.
Top producers Woodside Petroleum Ltd. and Santos Ltd. have slashed spending plans and deferred flagship growth projects -- worth over $15 billion -- in line with drastic steps by energy majors worldwide to hunker down during the pandemic.
On The Sheep’s Back Virus Fears Grow In Sydney As Growing GDP Expected To Be Hit Rolls of toilet papers sit in an empty section of a supermarket in Sydney, March 2020..Photographer: Brendon Thorne/Bloomberg As supermarket shelves were stripped bare, a panicked nation was reminded of the sheer mass of food the country’s farmers produce. Domestic food production services more than 90% of fresh produce sold in supermarkets and still is able to more than match that amount in exports.
The industry could also become an unexpected source of employment. Backpackers and workers from Pacific Islands flock to rural areas to pick up work with seasonal tasks, but with borders shut and jobs being lost across the economy, farmers are likely turn to the local community for the extra labor.
Other producers have greater worries. Barley and meat exporters have been caught in China’s crosshairs in retaliation for Australia’s public call for an independent investigation of the coronavirus outbreak, while the wine industry is looking on nervously.
It’s been a tough year for wine, even before the virus. Clonakilla winery in New South Wales, north of Canberra, decided against producing a 2020 vintage after analysis showed unacceptably high levels of smoke taint from wildfires over the summer.
Exploring Our Own Backyard Australia's China Reliance Backfires as Virus Fallout Spreads Students sit on the grass at the University of Sydney, Feb. 2020.Photographer: Brent Lewin/Bloomberg The education industry was one of the first to feel the pinch from coronavirus restrictions. When the government imposed travel bans on flights from China in February, around 100,000 international students were unable to enter Australia to begin the academic year and left universities bracing for a costly fallout.
The University of Sydney, where students from China represented nearly one-quarter of the total student body, projected a A$470 million loss this year. Other institutions, including the University of Melbourne and Monash University, are bracing for similar hits. Even smaller regional institutions that don’t attract nearly the same level of international students have been affected.
With a lot of money at stake, there could be a relaxation of international border restrictions for students to study in Australia, before leisure travelers are allowed. But for businesses catering toward an offshore audience, demand is unlikely to snap back.
Qantas Airways Ltd. is currently operating just 1% of its network and has canceled overseas fights until at least the end of July. Its main competitor, Virgin Australia Holdings Ltd., collapsed into administration in April.
Virgin Australia Collapses After Pandemic Halts Air Travel Virgin Australia check-in kiosks inside a deserted Sydney Airport, April 2020. Photographer Brendon Thorne/Bloomberg Crown Resorts Ltd. and Star Entertainment Group Ltd., which both target big-spending visitors from Asia, were forced to close their casinos in Australia as the country locked down. Crown is just months away from completing a A$2.2 billion luxury gaming resort in Sydney.
The tourism industry was already reeling from the wave of cancellations following the December and January wildfires. The silver lining is that Australians will have no option but to spend holidays on home soil once inter-state travel is allowed again.
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-05-19/australia-goes-back-to-the-1980s-with-economy-closed-to-world?sref=s0L1qQ1H

Live Discussion: 2018 Brownlow Medal

List of Las Vegas Casinos that Never Opened

List of Las Vegas casinos that never opened
Over the years there have been several casinos and resorts planned for the Las Vegas Valley that never opened. The stages of planning may have been just an announcement or groundbreaking.[1][2][3]
Asia Resort and Casino
Where the Palazzo Casino and Resort currently stands (adjacent to the Venetian Hotel and Casino and the Sands Expo and Convention Center), an Asian themed casino was proposed but was rejected for the present Palazzo project.[4]
Alon Las Vegas
A proposed luxury hotel and casino located on the Las Vegas Strip on the former site of the New Frontier Hotel and Casino, announced in 2015.[5] The project was put in doubt after Crown Resorts announced in late 2016 it was suspending its involvement in the development.[6] Crown announced in December 2016 that it was halting the project and seeking to sell its investment. The remaining partner Andrew Pascal announced he was seeking other partners to proceed with the project. However in May 2017, the land went up for sale.[7] The land was later purchased by Steve Wynn.
Beau Rivage
Steve Wynn, who had purchased and demolished the Dunes hotel-casino, had originally planned to build a modern hotel in the middle of a man-made lake. He later built the Bellagio with a man-made lake in the front of the hotel.[citation needed] The name was later used by Wynn for a resort built in Biloxi, Mississippi.
Caribbean Casino
In 1988, a sign for a proposed casino was erected on a fenced vacant lot on Flamingo Road. Standing near the sign was a scale model galleon. For several years, that was all that stood on the property. The empty lot was the source of many jokes by the locals until the ship, which was later damaged by a fire started by a homeless person, was torn down in the 1990s and the lot became the site of the Tuscany Suites and Casino co-owned by Charles Heers, who has owned the property since the 1960s.[8]
Carnival
In 1990, the Radisson group proposed a 3,376-room hotel next to the Dunes, with a casino shaped like a Hershey's Kiss.[9]
Cascada
A proposed resort that was to have been built on the site of El Rancho Vegas. The parcel is now partially taken by the Hilton Grand Vacations Club and Las Vegas Festival Grounds.[4]
City by the Bay Resort and Casino
A San Francisco-themed resort was proposed for the site of the New Frontier Hotel and Casino. The project was rejected in favor of the Swiss-themed Montreux, which was also eventually cancelled.[4]
Countryland USA
A country music-themed resort was planned for construction of the site of the former El Rancho Hotel and Casino. For some years, the El Rancho sign stood with the words "Coming Soon - Future Home of Countryland USA."[10][11]
Craig Ranch Station
Main article: Craig Ranch Station A Mediterranean-themed hotel-casino for North Las Vegas, proposed by Station Casinos in March 2000.[12] The project faced opposition from nearby residents,[13][14][15] which led to the proposed location being changed to a vacant property on the nearby Craig Ranch Golf Course.[16] Residential opposition to the new location led to the project being rejected by the Nevada Gaming Policy Committee in March 2001. Station Casinos still had the option to develop the project on the initial site,[17][18] but the project was cancelled entirely in July 2001, following a weak financial quarter for the company.[19]
Crown Las Vegas
Main article: Crown Las Vegas Formerly known as Las Vegas Tower, the Crown Las Vegas was to have been a supertall skyscraper built on the former site of a Wet 'n Wild water park. In March 2008, the project was canceled and the property was put up for sale.[20]
Desert Kingdom
In 1993, ITT Sheraton purchased the Desert Inn casino, and had announced plans to develop the large parking lot into a Balinese themed resort to complement the Desert Inn. The project was never developed and the site is now the location of Wynn Las Vegas.[4]
DeVille Casino
After building the Landmark Hotel and Casino on Convention Center Drive and selling it to Howard Hughes, developer Frank Carroll built the DeVille Casino across the street from the Landmark at 900 Convention Center Drive in 1969. Chips were made for the casino (and are sought-after collectibles), but the casino never opened.[21] The building was renovated in 1992 as a race book parlor named Sport of Kings which closed after nine months.[22] It became the location of The Beach nightclub, which was demolished in 2007 to make room for a planned 600-unit tower[23] that was never built.[24] The land sits currently empty.
Echelon Place
Main article: Echelon Place An announced project by Boyd Gaming planned to have a hotel built on the property of the former Stardust Resort & Casino. Construction was suspended on August 1, 2008 due to the Great Recession. In March 2013, Boyd Gaming sold the proposed site for $350 million to the Genting Group, which is redeveloping the project as the Asian-themed Resorts World Las Vegas.
Fontainebleau Las Vegas
Main article: The Drew Las Vegas Located on the Las Vegas Strip and originally known as Fontainebleau Las Vegas. Construction began in 2007, and the resort was to include a casino, 2,871 hotel rooms, and 1,018 condominium units.[25] Construction on the $2.9 billion project ceased in 2009, the year of its planned opening. Investment firms Witkoff Group and New Valley LLC purchased the unfinished resort in 2017.[26] In 2018, Witkoff and Marriott International announced a partnership to open the renamed project as The Drew Las Vegas in 2020. The resort will include a casino and three hotels totaling nearly 4,000 rooms, with the condominium aspect removed from the project.[27]
Harley-Davidson Hotel and Casino
A resort themed after the motorcycle manufacturer Harley-Davidson was proposed, complete with hotel towers shaped like gigantic exhaust pipes, but was never built.[4]
Jockey Club Casino
The Jockey Club is a condominium and timeshare resort at 3700 Las Vegas Boulevard South. It was planned to have a casino, and chips were made for its use, but the casino was never opened.[28]
Kactus Kate's
By April 1994, Gold Coast Hotel and Casino owner Michael Gaughan was interested in building a hotel-casino in North Las Vegas,[29] at the northeast corner of North Rancho Drive and Carey Avenue. In January 1995, the city planning commission approved the rezoning of the land for use as a hotel-casino. The resort, to be named Kactus Kate's, would be built by Gold Coast Hotel/Casino Limited. The hotel would include 450 rooms, and the casino would be 105,000 sq ft (9,800 m2),[30] later decreased to 102,000 sq ft (9,500 m2).[31] The resort would be located directly north of the nearby Fiesta and Texas Station resorts.[31]
In December 1998, Coast Resorts, Inc. received approval from the planning commission for a use-permit relating to the undeveloped property. In November 2000, the planning commission unanimously approved a two-year extension on the permit, giving the company more time to decide whether it would build Kactus Kate's. Because of a 1999 Senate bill that placed restrictions on casinos in neighborhoods, Coast Resorts had a deadline of 2002 to build the casino. The hotel would measure over 100 feet (30 m) high, and Coast Resorts was required to notify the Federal Aviation Administration of its final plans, due to the site being located less than 1,000 feet (300 m) from a runway at the North Las Vegas Airport.[32] In January 2001, Station Casinos purchased the 29-acre (12 ha) site for $9 million. Coast Resorts president Harlan Braaten said, "As we saw the competitive nature of that area intensify, in terms of the size of competing facilities, we just felt we would have to build something much bigger than we had intended to compete with Texas Station and Santa Fe Station. It was just going to be a very expensive project, and we didn't feel the returns would be that good." Station Casinos planned to sell the property as a non-gaming site.[31]
Las Vegas Plaza
Main article: Las Vegas Plaza Not to be confused with the Plaza Hotel & Casino.
This was to have been modeled after the Plaza Hotel in New York City. The project was announced shortly before the demolition of the New Frontier Hotel and Casino, where the new hotel would be built. Las Vegas Plaza was cancelled in 2011 due to the Great Recession.
London Resort and Casino
This announced project was to have been themed around the city of London, and featuring replicas of the city's landmarks. The project was to be built on land across from the Luxor Hotel and Casino. A second London-themed resort was to be built on the former land of the El Rancho Hotel and Casino. Neither project ever began construction.[4]
London, Las Vegas
This was a proposed three-phase project using London as its design inspiration. When completed, the 38.5-acre (15.5 ha) property would have featured 1,300 hotel rooms, a casino, a 500-foot-tall (152.4 m) observation wheel named Skyvue (partially constructed), and 550,000 square feet (51,097 square meters) of restaurants and shops — all of which would be architectural replicas of various British landmarks and neighborhoods.[33] The project was to be constructed on land across from the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino on the Las Vegas Strip, where — as of November 2019 — the partially-constructed Skyvue still stands. The wheel was to be "Phase I of London, Las Vegas".
Montreux Resort
This Swiss-themed resort was to have been built on the property of the former New Frontier Hotel and Casino, but was ultimately cancelled.[34]
Moon Resort and Casino
Proposed by Canadian developer Michael Henderson, this is a planned 10,000-room, 250-acre (1.0 km2) lunar-themed casino resort.[35] Gaming experts doubt it will ever be built in Las Vegas, simply because the space planned for it is too large for the Las Vegas Strip.[4]
NevStar 2000
Further information: Craig Ranch Station § NevStar 2000 Proposed by NevStar Gaming in 1998, the NevStar 2000 entertainment complex in North Las Vegas would have included a hotel and casino,[36] but the project faced opposition from nearby residents who did not want a casino in the area.[37][38] The project was cancelled when NevStar Gaming filed for bankruptcy in December 1999.[12]
North Coast/Boyd Gaming project
In May 2003, Coast Casinos had plans for the North Coast hotel-casino, to be built at the southwest corner of Centennial Parkway and Lamb Boulevard in North Las Vegas. The project would be built on approximately 40 acres (16 ha) of vacant land, surrounded by other land that was also undeveloped. At the time, the North Las Vegas Planning Commission was scheduled to review requests for zoning changes and approvals for the project. The project was not scheduled to be built for at least another four years, after completion of a highway interchange at Lamb Boulevard and the nearby Interstate 15, as well as the completion of an overpass over nearby railroad tracks. Bill Curran, an attorney for the land owner, said, "We're going through the zoning changes now so everybody knows what's going to be out there." The North Coast would include a casino, a 10-story hotel with 398 rooms, a bowling alley, movie theaters, and a parking garage.[39] In June 2003, the Planning Commission voted 6 to 1 to approve preliminary applications necessary to begin work on the North Coast.[40][41]
Boyd Gaming, the owner of Coast Casinos, announced in February 2006 that it would purchase the 40-acre site for $35 million.[42] Jackie Gaughan and Kenny Epstein were the owners at the time.[43] Boyd Gaming had not decided on whether the new project would be a Coast property or if it would be similar to the company's Sam's Town hotel-casino. At the time, no timetable was set for building the project.[42] In March 2007, the project was put on hold. At the time, Boyd Gaming had been securing construction permits for the project but decided to first review growth in the area. Construction had been scheduled to begin in mid-2007.[44] In August 2013, Boyd Gaming sold the undeveloped property for $5.15 million.[43]
Palace of the Sea Resort and Casino
This was to have been built on the former Wet 'n Wild waterpark site. Conceptual drawings included yacht-shaped towers that housed suites, a casino resembling the Sydney Opera House and a 600-foot (180 m) tall Ferris wheel-type attraction dubbed a "Sky Wheel". It never left the planning stages.[4]
Paramount Las Vegas
A casino and hotel and condo resort with more than 1,800 units that was planned by Royal Palms Las Vegas, a subsidiary of Royal Palms Communities.[45][46] The project was to replace the Klondike Hotel and Casino at the south end of the Las Vegas Strip,[47][45] beside the Las Vegas welcome sign.[48] The resort was approved in October 2006,[45] but an investor pulled out of the project in August 2007, and the land was put up for sale in May 2008.[46]
Pharoah's Kingdom
Pharoah's Kingdom was planned as a $1.2 billion gaming, hotel and theme park complex to be built on 710 acres (290 ha) at Pebble Road and Las Vegas Boulevard, five miles south of the Las Vegas Strip.[49][1] Construction was approved in October 1988,[49] with Silano Development Group as the developer.[50]
The project would have an Egyptian theme, including two 12-story pyramids made of crystal, with each containing 300 suites. The hotel would have a total of 5,000 rooms,[50] making it the largest in the world.[51] The 230,000 sq ft (21,000 m2) casino would include 100 table games and 3,000 slot machines, while an RV park, mini-golf, a bowling alley, and a video game arcade would be located beside the casino area.[52] Three of the project's various pyramid structures would house the 50-acre (20 ha) family theme park. Other features would include sphinxes, man-made beaches, waterways resembling the Nile river, an underwater restaurant, a 24-hour child-care facility, a 100-tenant shopping promenade, and a repertory-style theater that would be overseen by actor Jack Klugman.[52] Additionally, the resort would feature an 18-hole PGA Championship golf course,[52] and a monorail located within the theme park.[50] The project would have one mile of frontage along Las Vegas Boulevard.[52]
Frank Gambella, president of the project, stated that financing was in place, with groundbreaking planned for March or April 1989. Gambella said the project would be financed by several entities, with the money coming from a Nevada corporation, suggesting the entities would be grouped together as an umbrella corporation. Gambella stated that the project could be opened by Labor Day 1990. The resort was expected to employ 8,000 people. Following the completion of the resort, Gambella said a complex of 750 condominiums would be built on the land along with 900 retirement-care apartments.[52]
The project was cancelled shortly after it was announced, as authorities became suspicious of developer Anthony Silano's fundraising efforts for the project. It was discovered that Silano and his associates hacked into the Switzerland bank accounts of Philippine president Ferdinand Marcos following his death in 1989. Silano pleaded guilty to federal conspiracy charges. Another Egyptian-themed resort, Luxor Las Vegas, would open on the south Las Vegas Strip in 1993.[1]
Planet Hollywood Resort (original plans)
Not to be confused with the current Planet Hollywood Resort and Casino.
Originally planned to open in the late 1990s on the site of the Desert Inn, it was to be one of the largest hotels in Las Vegas. Because of the bankruptcy of Planet Hollywood Restaurants, the hotel was never built. However, in the 2000s, a group of investors bought the new Aladdin Hotel and Casino and remodeled it with a modern Hollywood theme.[4]
Playboy Hotel and Casino
A proposed casino resort themed after Playboy magazine was rejected in favor of a nightclub and suites built at the top two floors of the new Palms tower.[4] The planned location for the Playboy Hotel and Casino, on the Las Vegas Strip, was later used for the Cosmopolitan resort.[53]
Santa Fe Valley
Main article: Santa Fe Valley Santa Fe Gaming, which owned the Santa Fe hotel-casino in northwest Las Vegas, had plans for a second Santa Fe property in 1996.[54] The Santa Fe Valley would be built on a 40-acre (16 ha) lot[55] in Henderson, Nevada, adjacent to the Galleria at Sunset mall. The start of construction was delayed several times because of poor financial quarters for Santa Fe Gaming,[54] and because of the company not yet receiving financing for the project.[56] Site preparation started in July 1998, with an opening date scheduled for December 1999,[57] but construction never began. In 1999, the property was sold to Station Casinos,[58][59] which sold the land a year later for use as a shopping center.[60]
Shenandoah Hotel and Casino
A project by Wayne Newton. Although the hotel operated for a short time at 120 E. Flamingo Road, the management was unable to get a gaming license. After years of floundering it was sold to a Canadian company and became Bourbon Street Hotel and Casino.
Silver City proposals
By January 2000, Luke Brugnara was planning to build a San Francisco-themed resort on the site of the closed Silver City Casino.[61] Brugnara intended to give Silver City a multimillion-dollar renovation, with plans to have a fully operational hotel-casino by 2002.[62] In March 2001, Brugnara's request for a gaming license was rejected.[63] In May 2002, it was announced that Brugnara had sold the casino while retaining six acres located behind the building.[64] In 2003, Brugnara was planning to build a 24-story, 304-room hotel and casino resort on a portion of the Silver City property. The resort, to be named "Tycoon", was to be designed by Lee Linton, with an expected cost of approximately $100 million.[65]
Starship Orion
International Thoroughbred Breeders (ITB) announced plans to demolish the El Rancho and construct Starship Orion, a $1 billion hotel, casino, entertainment and retail complex with an outer space theme, covering 5.4 million square feet (501,676 square meters). The resort was to include seven separately owned casinos, each approximately 30,000 square feet (2,787 square meters).[66][67] Each potential casino owner was to contribute up to $100 million to own and operate a casino within the complex.[68] The complex would have included 300,000 square feet (27,871 square meters) of retail space, as well as 2,400 hotel rooms and a 65-story hotel tower. ITB hoped to begin construction later in 1996, with a planned opening date of April 1998.[67]
Sunrise
This was to have been located at 4575 Boulder Highway. Property developer Michael Mona Jr. built the hotel-casino and stated that he was going to break tradition by starting a "casino without a theme". He failed to get an unrestricted gaming license when suspicions arose concerning his associations with alleged organized crime figures. Chips were made for the casino, but were never used.[69] The building was opened as Arizona Charlie's Boulder.
Titanic
In 1999, Bob Stupak was planning a 400-foot-high (122 m) resort themed after the RMS Titanic, to be built on a 10-acre (4 hectares) property he owned near downtown Las Vegas. The resort would have included 1,200 rooms, 800 of which were to be used for timeshares to help finance the project. That year, planning commissioners rejected Stupak's request to change the zoning to allow for a hotel.[70] The project was later planned for the former site of the El Rancho Vegas on the Las Vegas Strip, but was rejected by the Las Vegas City Council.[4]
W Las Vegas
Main article: W Las Vegas W Las Vegas was proposed in August 2005, as a $1.7 billion joint project between Starwood and Edge Resorts, with a scheduled opening in 2008. The project would include a 75,000 sq ft (7,000 m2) casino and approximately 3,000 hotel, condo hotel, and residential units.[71][72] The project was cancelled in May 2007, after Starwood pulled out of the deal.[73]
Wally's Wagon Wheel
Wally's Wagon Wheel was to be developed by Walter Weiss through his company, Magna Leisure Partnership.[74][75] The project was proposed for 2200 South Boulder Highway in Henderson,[76][77] between Wagon Wheel Drive and Roberts Road,[78] near Henderson's Old Vegas western theme park. Manga Leisure Partnership purchased the 15.5-acre property in late February 1988. Weiss, at that time, had tentative plans for a western-themed, 112-room property known then as the Wagon Wheel Hotel and Casino. The Wagon Wheel was expected to cost $15 million, and financing had yet to be obtained for the project, which Weiss expected to open in early 1990.[74] The project, which would include a 55,000 sq ft (5,100 m2) casino, was to be built in two phases.[79]
By October 1991, Wally's Wagon Wheel remained unbuilt due to difficulty obtaining financing.[80][76] That month, the Henderson Planning Commission voted to give Weiss more time to make progress on the project. At that time, the project was to include 204 hotel rooms and would be built on 13.30 acres (5.38 ha). Weiss noted that the nearby successful Sam's Town hotel-casino opened with 204 rooms, and he believed his project would be successful if he opened with the same amount of rooms for good luck.[76] By the end of 1992, Weiss had still not acquired financing for Wally's Wagon Wheel. At the time, the project was the largest of five casinos being planned for Henderson. The three-story project was to include 200 rooms, two restaurants, a theater lounge for country and western entertainment, and a large bingo room. Weiss stated that groundbreaking was scheduled for May 1993, with an expected opening in June 1994. The hotel-casino would employ approximately 600 people upon opening.[81]
Weiss met with nearby residents to discuss the project, and he had the original design changed to include a larger buffer zone between homes and the hotel-casino. In November 1994, the Henderson Planning Commission voted to recommend approval of Weiss' requested zone change as part of the redesign. The project, at that time, was to include a one-story casino and a four-story hotel with 400 rooms.[82][83] In December 1994, the Henderson City Council rejected Weiss' plans for a 200-foot (61 m) buffer.[84]
In July 1997, the unbuilt project received its sixth extension from the Henderson Planning Commission for a use permit and architectural review.[85] In August 1997, the Henderson City Council approved the sixth extension, but denied Weiss' appeal for a one-year extension, instead giving him six months to make progress on the project.[77] Up to that time, $1.7 million had been invested in the project by Magna Leisure Partnership.[86] As of 1998, the project was expected to cost $80 million and employ at least 1,200 people, and the proposed site had increased to 19 acres (7 ha). At that time, Weiss stated that he was close to obtaining financing for the project from a casino operator.[87] The project was never built.
Wild Wild West
Not to be confused with Wild Wild West Gambling Hall & Hotel. As of 1993, Station Casinos owned a 27-acre (11 ha) site on Boulder Highway with the potential to be developed as a casino. The site was located across the street from Sam's Town hotel-casino.[88] In January 1998, Crescent Real Estate Equities Co. announced plans to purchase Station Casinos, which had intended to sell the land prior to the announcement.[89] By March 1998, Station Casinos was planning to develop a hotel-casino complex on the land, which was occupied by a vacant strip mall. The complex would be known as Wild Wild West, with local residents as the target clientele.[90][89]
Crescent's purchase of Station Casinos failed in August 1998, and Station Casinos subsequently slowed its plans to build the project.[91] By the end of the year, the project had received approval from the Clark County Planning Commission for a 273,000 sq ft (25,400 m2) casino and a 504-room hotel.[92] No timetable for construction was announced,[92][93] and Station Casinos had already decided by that point not to start any new projects prior to 2000.[92] Station Casinos sold the undeveloped land for $11.2 million to Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. in April 2004.[94]
World Port
In 2000, Howard Bulloch, David Gaffin, and their partner Tom Gonzales transferred ownership of the Glass Pool Inn property to their group, known as New World, with plans for a megaresort.[95] New World purchased several other nearby motels to accumulate a 77-acre (31 ha) parcel located on the Las Vegas Strip and east of the Mandalay Bay.[96] In January 2001, plans were announced for World Port Resorts, a megaresort consisting of hotel-casinos, a convention center and a fine arts facility. The project was to be built on the 77-acre (31 ha property, a portion of which was occupied by the Glass Pool Inn.[96]
World Trade Center
To have been located at 925 East Desert Inn Road. Leonard Shoen, co-founder of U-Haul truck rental, purchased the property of what had been the Chaparral Hotel & Casino in 1996, renovating it into the World Trade Center Hotel. A gaming license was applied for, but when it was discovered that two of Shoen's closest partners were convicted felons, the application was denied in 1998. He withdrew his application, and died in a car crash in 1999 that was ruled a suicide. Cards and gaming chips were produced for the World Trade Center Casino, but were never used.[97] The property has since been demolished and is now a parking lot, part of the Las Vegas Convention Center Annex.
World Wrestling Federation
A casino resort themed after the World Wrestling Federation (WWF) was proposed for a property near the Interstate 15 freeway across from Mandalay Bay. The project never went past the proposal stage.[4] The land where it would have stood is now Allegiant Stadium.
WWF also proposed to open the project on the property once used by the Clarion Hotel and Casino, which was demolished in 2015 to become a parking lot.
Xanadu
In February 1976, the Clark County Commission approved the 23-story Xanadu resort, to be built on the Las Vegas Strip at the corner of South Las Vegas Boulevard and Tropicana Avenue. The resort would include approximately 1,700 hotel rooms and a casino, as well as convention facilities, a showroom, dining, and indoor tennis courts. The resort was to be developed by Tandy McGinnis – of Bowling Green, Kentucky – and his Xanadu Corporation, and would be built on 48.6 acres (19.7 ha) owned by Howard Downes, a resident of Coral Gables, Florida.[98][99][100] The Xanadu would feature a pyramid design, and was expected to cost $150 million.[100] It would have been the first themed mega-resort. Much information and many artifacts of the project are housed at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas library. The Excalibur Hotel and Casino ultimately opened on the property in 1990.[101]
See also
Category:Defunct casinos in the Las Vegas Valley List of Atlantic City casinos that never opened

[Tournament Report] (Standard and Draft) A Hitchhikers Guide to 10th at Australian Nationals

Disclaimer: there’s going to be a lot of storytelling and fluff in this match report. If you’re after something more serious, that's also here too! I’ve written other match reports on other forums with a similar style, which I’ve linked to here and here.
I hope I didn't poop any reddit formatting.
Enjoy my awful writing!
Part 1 - The Prologue
There it was. The patter of feet turned into an echoing applause of hooves quickly getting closer and closer. Before I knew it, I was knocked to the ground. My last sights a rearing, victorious green horse as it trampled me underfoot.
Thursday. July 19. A cold sweat covered my body as I checked the clock. The bright light of my phone burned 05:55 into my corneas. My hands get to work feverishly to write up my midnight epiphany.
I spend the evening later that day putting cardboard and clothes into my bag, not bringing the spare parts to build anything else. This was it. Grixis was my Alamo.
Fast-forward the drive over the next day, where we all met at Strathfield for the ride over. Mostly an uneventful drive if you discount almost running out of petrol ten minutes outside of Canberra. We settled into our hotel and after some moderate play testing against Mono-Red Keld, I swapped over my basics by request to Unhinged, then cracked open my bottle of Fat Lamb dreading what was coming tomorrow.
I couldn’t sleep much.
Saturday had arrived. Shower. Brief daypack inventory. Breakfast at some fancy cafe across the road. An awkward round 0 of forgetting to bring dice, paper and a playmat, scrambling to write a decklist followed by an awkward anthem and we’re off.
Here’s what we registered: 2 Swamp 1 Island 1 Mountain 4 Aether Hub 4 Canyon Slough 4 Fetid Pools 4 Dragonskull Summit 3 Drowned Catacombs 3 Sulfur Falls (26)
4 Glint-Sleeve Siphoner 3 Champion of Wits 3 Whirler Virtutoso 3 Nicol Bolas, the Ravager 3 The Scarab God 1 Torrential Gearhulk (17)
3 Magma Spray 3 Abrade 3 Essence Scatter 2 Harnessed Lightning 1 Supreme Will 4 Vraska’s Contempt 1 Liliana, Death’s Majesty (17)
Sideboard: 3 Duress 2 Chandra’s Defeat 2 Arguel’s Bloodfast 2 Negate 1 Jace’s Defeat 1 Sweltering Suns’ 1 Glimmer of Genius 1 Yahenni’s Expertise 1 The Eldest Reborn 1 Torrential Gearhulk
I decided on Sulfur Falls over Spirebluff as untapped lands during turns 4, 5 and 6 are just as important as 1, 2, and 3. 3 Essence Scatter was an inclusion I didn’t see in most decks before the tournament, but they were amazing. In future I’d probably play two, and a second Supreme Will as the deck is a little thirsty on card selection or the fourth Champion of Wits.
Part 2 - This Is How Nationals Dies, With Thunderous Applause
Round 1 - Simon Linabury on RB Aggro (Top 8) A Canberra local and an all around nice dude that I’ve seen around a lot. I won the dieroll but shuddered as I saw t1 Bomat on the other side. I had no real response for the curve out as I had kept a pretty crappy hand for the matchup (Siphoner x 2, if i recall correctly) and saw myself die quicky as the Bomat was followed by a creature two drop and it was lights out once Unlicensed hit on my Virtuoso. Not much to do.
Sideboarding: +2 Chandra’s Defeat +2 Arguel’s Bloodfast +1 Sweltering Suns’ +1 Yahenni’s Expertise +1 Torrential Gearhulk -4 Glint-Sleeve Siphoner -3 Nicol Bolas, the Ravager
Glint-Sleeve obviously lines up extremely poorly against Chainwhirler, while I’ve found that Nicol Bolas getting slapped by a Chandra wasn’t exactly the line of play I was after. Further to that, the amount of times in test games that I saw RB players discard a Scrounger dissuaded me entirely from Bolas in the deck post board.
Game 2, I got an Arguel’s down and the draw managed to let me turn the corner with some threats. Game 3 involved another early Arguel’s, and a t4 Chandra from the opponent, but I manage to stick a Scarab God that weathers an Unlicensed and he scoops it up as Scarab start picking up permanents in the graveyard after successfully holding up Vraska’s Contempt to clear a threat. I wished him luck for the next round and slowly packed my stuff and went across the room to my team. Wins across the board (and a points bye, sack) mostly. Nice.
2-1 1-0
After the usual bad beats talk that happens between rounds, I flick through my phone’s browser for pairings, and head straight for the table.
Round 2 - Jesse Stewart on RB Aggro (30th) One lost die roll later and suddenly we’re off with a seven. Bomat Courier again reminds me that the red decks draw way more cards than I do, and if I recall correctly, we trade cards back and forth, and I try to flip a Bolas on an empty board while on 5. He plays Hazoret for the maximum punish.
Sideboarding: Same as Round 1
I keep a seven and we start taking tonnes of damage on board, followed by a Chandra. I try to stem the bleeding with two Whirler Virtuosos, but they don’t do enough as I extend the hand.
0-2 (2-3) 1-1
Bottle of water count hits one. I Taylor Swift it off and go to the next round.
Round 3 - David Huang on Mono-Red Keld (Top 8) Phones in the modern era tend to deliver a ton of unwanted news, and this is no exception. Having a teamkill in round 3 of a 12 round tournament sucks, especially when you’re both down a match and looking to stay afloat. Since we spent a decent amount of time yesterday playing the matchup, I safely keep a removal dense hand and take over the game accordingly after he bricks on his draws from Flame of Keld.
Sideboard: +2 Chandra’s Defeat +2 Arguel’s Bloodfast +1 Negate +1 Sweltering Suns +1 Yahenni’s Expertise -4 Glint-Sleeve Siphoner -3 Nicol Bolas, the Ravager
I knew he was gonna have a lot of Chandras that clap Nicol Bolas post board, and overall while Nicol Bolas was decent to stabilize on T4, I found that spending my T4 deleting their T4 was a more efficient trade in tempo. Game 2 involves me getting buried under the red tide, with me flailing about with my Negate catching a Chandra - but outside of that it was mostly drowning.
Sideboarding (Game 3): -1 Torrential Gearhulk +1 Negate
I thought the second Negate would be excellent on the play in order to smother his card draw sources, and it worked out in a back and forth game where I dipped down to four to flip my Arguel’s, and Liliana came down to give me a stream of 2 life a turn to get me across the line. Negate caught a Flame of Keld at a critical juncture where it would have let him completely decimate my life total. I aptly bad mannered him, took a photo of the match slip and headed up to the judges table before applying more rub ins.
2-1 (4-4) 2-1
Everyone else at this point had caught up to 2-1, with David being the exception. Good shit. I grabbed a second bottle of water (now, down $6) and chilled out with the team before heading off to next round.
Round 4 - James Chen on Mono-Red Keld Another round, another Sydney snipe which always sucks considering the aim is to see Sydney players do well, but time to bash. I win the die roll and get to work. Game 1 looks like it followed the formula: kill stuff early, play a Scarab God when you can, then take over the game from there.
Sideboarding: See Games 2+3, Round 3 - second Negate included.
Game 2 involves a Chandra, but for all intents and purposes my life total doesn’t dip below 10 after several turns, and I turn the corner quite quickly. In hindsight, I dunno why I was particularly concerned about the matchup, it feels a lot better than UB simply due to Whirler Virtuoso. I go off for my third bottle of water (for those keeping up at home, that’s $9 AUD down now on water) and first bathroom trip, and go spend the hour long lunch break talking about Standard rounds, and having David accidentally order food to our hotel room as opposed to the venue. Good shit.
2-0 (6-4) 3-1
Part 3 - You Underestimate My Power
Link to Deck Picture
We pick 1, pack 1’d the foil Pelakka Wurm, and put the blinders on and saw Green the whole rest of the draft. The Luminous Bonds were passed to me pack 1 quite late in the draft, so I had to believe White was open. I had to deathstare the person looking at their previous picks before the review period despite the two warnings from judges not to do that. It was definitely a train wreck, but I think we did pretty well considering the trainwreck we were getting passed into. Psychic Symbionte (why the weird spelling Wizards?) was an incredibly greedy splash and I never cast it, with it either getting stranded before I drew a blue source, or pitched to Macabre Waltz. It would have been fine if I nabbed the second Meandering River probably? We nabbed the Murder in pack 3 and never looked back.
Round 5 - Dean Williams on RW Smorc I was pretty afraid of any RW deck going into Round 5 - my deck has some decent game with Plague Mare to sweep away some tokens, but overall I think the battle was to survive to cast a Wurm to stabilize.
The games didn’t go as planned - he was playing a removal light, dude dense version of RW and outside of a Sigiled Sword of Valeron I felt pretty comfortable throughout the match. Game 1 I suited up a Vine Mare with Knightly Valor and went to town, he Cleansing Nova’d it away and I stared at the Rise from the Grave in hand which made a fresh Zombie Horse on our next turn. That was very much the beginning of the end.
In the second game, Viashino Pyromancer drew first blood, but between its triggered ability and attacking twice it was the only thing that managed to draw blood as I took down my opponent's life total in chunks. Once again, Vine Mare appeared - but it was working for me, so it was nightmare fuel for someone else for a change.
2-0 (8-4) 4-1
Round 6 - Michael Milton on GW Smorc 4-1 is pretty far ahead of where I thought I’d be day 1. Realities came tumbling down as my opponent ends game 1 on 21, while we end up dead.
Game 2, my back’s on the wall and he manages to push for 6 damage before Pelakka Wurm takes over the game - not much else to say.
The third game is a back and forth affair where he takes me down to 3 early, and ends up with a Star-Crowned Stag and a Pegasus Courser with his life on 7. My board at this point (I believe) is a Giant Spider from the board, a Zombie token and a Skeleton Archer; land in hand. I start attacking with the Skeleton Archer because the only way I win here is if he screws up. He throws the Courser under the bus. This happens again the next turn as he plays a second Courser. After a bit of draw go I eventually hit the wurmyboi and stabilize.
I asked him about it after the game, and he was playing around Titanic Growth (which is fair - but I disagree with the mindset that comes with that decision.) I had to get a little lucky to sneak past here. Deep sigh of relief as I move off to my mates who proceed to either show me dust or diamonds in terms of draft decks.
2-1 (10-5) 5-1
Round 7 - ??? on Temur (if you’re reading this buddy, sorry I forgot your name - it doesn’t show up on pwp!)
By the looks of the scorepad, Game 1 was quite a tight race on both sides but he ended up scraping through with the UG uncommon flying over my board.
Second game was a pretty slow affair where my first life total change was the wurmyboi, only to have it be Switcharoo’d for an Omenspeaker, followed by the UG uncommon making it a flying wurmyboi. Needless to say I packed it up real quick. 5-2 aint too bad for day 1!
0-2 (10-7) 5-2
The team had mixed results as we headed back - a 6-1, two 5-2s, two 4-3s and lets not ask about the last one, but needless to say we headed off into the Canberra night. Two hours later we finally ended up with food from Happy’s, it was decent Chinese but not exactly worth a two hour wait, but the Canadian Club we dragged back to the hotel was - and with free practice of GP Hockenheim starting up we managed to drink our way to bed in preparation for the next day.
Part 4 - I have the high ground, I guess? Bright and sunny start to day 2. I’m a liar. It was -4 celcius when I woke up. It was bloody cold. I spent the first hour of my day goldfishing one of the two Tron decks we had ready to run head first into the PPTQ, asking myself regularly “why don’t I play this shit more often” and my favourite question to ask when goldfishing “how do I lose?”. Same swanky cafe for breakfast, baked eggs hit the spot on such a frigid day before we headed back out to the venue for the second draft.
Link to draft deck 2:
This one felt nuts. I picked a Lich’s Caress pick 1 pack 1 over a Lathiss (controversial, I know), then proceeded to take all the good black stuff and green stuff that came past. The Thorn Lieutenant came to me in pack 3 alongside the Prodigious Growth, just to show how wide open green was. The Druid of Horns package was a little loose, but the plan was to board it out whenever it was bad for 2 Ghastbark Twins and a Titanic Growth. Needless to say, I was hoping to run into every token based deck possible…
Round 8 - Lyndon Maher on RW splash B This match went by quickly. Game 1 I swept away 4 2/2s worth of knights with a double Plague Mare turn and that quickly closed out the game. Second game, we kept in the Oakenform/Druid package and we quickly found ourselves on the back foot as we took a big swing for 12 early. That was the only damage we took the whole game was we quickly took over on the board after we weathered the storm.
2-0 (12-7) 6-2
A quick scope around with the team still playing the main event and everyone was still live. Good shit.
Round 9 - Grant Boyanton on Mono Red I was getting pretty nervous at this point, but I also had some extremely high expectations for the deck so I got back into the zone. Now $18 AUD down on water, we went on to our next round. The first game involved went quickly into a creature bogfest, with our opponent pooping out tonnes of 1/1s and Plague Mare does the damage He smashed early with a hasted Inferno Hellion that knocked me down to 6, but I managed to stabilize and the Lich’s Caress puts us out of reach of burn spells (Guttersnipe DansGame) as we clean up the game. Oakenhorn stayed in for the next game as it did wonders in clogging the board game 1.
Viashino Pyromancer once again draws first blood, but our opponent only knocks us to 10 while we take down his lifetotals in increments of 8. Plague Mare might end up being the waifu.
2-0 (14-7) 7-2
Round 10 - Ryan Cubit on BW Lifegain (15th) For some reason, they decided to put the lunch break between rounds 2 and 3 of the draft. That one might be my only tournament complaint as I wanted to ride my momentum into the last round of draft. I saw Ryan was in my pod and quite early I identified him as the real threat of the draft - I’d hoped someone else would snipe him down to the 1-1 bracket, but there he was (at the time, he was the Australian Pro Point leader, now he’s tied for first again). Well shit.
Honestly, the first two games were a bit of a blur back and forth, so I can’t really write on them with much context as the third game took a whole lot of my memory. Game 3 was a back and forth grindfest, where I had almost ran out of cards in my library and I managed to sneak in the last points of damage necessary despite missing a Poison-Tip Archer trigger. He showed me the rest of his library and it was a plethora of 5 drop threats and removal and I had to be really lucky to get out of that match unscathed (he drew all 17 lands!). The sideboard plan finally kicked in alongside a Plummet and a Daggerback Basilisk. Everything had to come together just right and it did.
No pressure kid. Just need to win one Standard round, what could possibly go wrong?
2-1 (16-8) 8-2
Round 11 - Ben Yulli on RB Aggro (Top 4) I wished him luck and quipped:

“Blue sleeves, Flooded Strand promo playmat, must be a ruse for a red deck right?”

A shaky 6 greeted me and before I knew it, a Bomat Courier had snuck in for the first points.

“Nailed it.”

I then proceeded to stall out, while he was playing Ahn-Crop Crasher which proceeded to ruin my life as I tried (with little effect) to block everything with Whirler Virtuoso. Needless to say, I couldn’t stop the bleeding fast enough.
Sideboarding: +2 Chandra’s Defeat +2 Arguel’s Bloodfast +1 Glimmer of Genius +1 Sweltering Suns +1 Yahenni’s Expertise -4 Glint-Sleeve Siphoner -3 Nicol Bolas, the Ravager
I had figured in the other games at this point that the second Gearhulk was good, but Ahn-Crop made me very averse to that kind of plan (look, in hindsight I imagine the second Gearhulk woulda done work, but I was just running through my logic here). I don’t mind Glimmer in this kind of matchup as it lets you do something on turns where the plan is to hold up Vraska’s Contempt. Alongside the equity you get during those Vraska’s Contempt turns, Glimmer adds some much needed card advantage after cutting the Siphoners. If he wasn’t playing Ahn-Crop, I’d say this plan was great.
Ahh, game 2, how I wish I didn’t have to relive you. The first seven was landless, the second six was all lands, and the five did about as best as it could to keep me alive.
It wasn’t enough. I signed the match slip and sighed myself out of there. At the moment I needed it most, the luck had run out.
0-2 (16-10) 8-3
I moved slowly towards the team to find out that the other two boys still live in the main event are still live or locked for top 8. Absolutely needed to hear that news to raise my spirits about the next round. It felt so unimportant to play the next round, but I was told there was a chance I could slip in as my breakers were insane.
Only one way to find out.
Round 12 - Keiren Macdonald on the Mirror (28th) Once again, I didn’t really record this game properly but I felt in control for most of both the games. In match 1, my life total never changed while I had every correct answer to hit all his threats on time while he was land screwed, and by the time he had recovered my advantage in cards took the wheel from there. All three Champion of Wits saw their way out of my graveyard, and usually that does the damage.
Sideboarding: +2 Arguel's Bloodfast +1 Negate +1 Jace’s Defeat +1 The Eldest Reborn +1 Sploosh Hulk -3 Abrade -2 Harnessed Lightning -1 Supreme Will
Game 2 felt a lot like game 1, I always had the answer cause I’m a sack and after a long slog through some Vraska’s Contempts I finally stuck a Scarab God. He extended the hand before I started activating it.
2-0 (18-10) 9-3
After walking over to hand in my match slip, I ran quickly over to the ‘feature match tables’ to see one of my team mates bashing another Sydney player to see who makes it into top 8. On the other table, David (my round 3 opponent, team mate and all around sack) had snuck his way into the top 8 despite the 1-2 start. It was extremely awkward having to root for my boi Benaya over another Sydney player, but once he won we all were ecstatic. Two people in my room in the top 8 was what they’d call a deece plus weekend despite my choke on top 8. I stood patiently for the top 8 announcement with very little hope to make it and that feeling was validated. Was locked out from the start of the round, oh well.
The team settled in to watch their top 8 matches before heading out to the casino to celebrate with a really good 9 course meal from Natural Nine - definitely recommend for those who head out there, followed by losing my Flooded Strand promo during the credit-card game. Whoops. Just to add insult to injury, Lewis Hamilton just had to win GP Hockenheim to increase the salt count in the room.
Epilogue - Is this really podracing? The weekend was a blast. I’m out of good words. The return to Nationals as a tournament was an excellent decision by Wizards as it wholeheartedly managed to unify regions of Australia under banners. I walked away very proud of Sydney’s performance.
Grixis is great. I’m extremely glad I only saw horses either: In my draft decks and On the ride over.
Avoid drafting white, that shit sucks and is overdrafted alongside red.
Big thanks to my team for the overall support and for their own damn excellent performance. None of us could have done it on our own so thank you to you guys. Shoutout to you the reader for actually making it this far through 12 rounds of ramble.
I stream occasionally on twitch.tv/syreal_ - check it out if you want to see me flail around haplessly on Affinity (or my original love, Modern Elves) some time.

Slaughter Theatre

Listen, mate. Something is rotten in the State of Victoria, Australia.
From the muddy banks of the Yarra, up and beyond Sydney Road, to the Dandenong mountain ranges….down to the borders of Port Phillip Bay where the fibreglass Luna Park clown, old Mr Moon, grins contemptuously over the brothels and slums of St Kilda. Fuck me sideways. Pernicious humidity followed by a spell of rain, and a sky perpetually overcast with moral decay. Something is wrong, and it rhymes with girder.
Yeah, see....in St Kilda, in July of 2017 a dead body was found in the Triangle construction Site near the Bay, adjacent to where the Palais theatre once stood —before it burnt to cinders. Body had also been burnt, and was unidentifiable, charcoaled as it was. Funnily enough...Nobody seems to know who is to blame. As daily race riots and brawls break out on St Kilda streets, and the cops impose tougher alcohol restrictions, this gaping wound remains untended.
J D Williams and the three Phillips brothers from Seattle had their part;— left their American legacy in Australia, no doubt about it— the Coney Island style theme park of vices, a carnival of underground crimes which led to that precise moment —a swamp of intertwined histories beyond my capabilities to research thoroughly or summarise accurately. Nevertheless, I swear to you old chum, like a moth to a flame, I was drawn into the tangled investigation of that mangled female corpse near Luna Park,... an investigation which would near drive me insane.
My name is Pharlap Dronefire, a Private Investigator based in South Yarra.
I’m not normally inclined to investigate murder cases, but this particular private client had a list of seemingly unrelated things he wanted me to research, the St Kilda murder being just one of them. As I didn’t have access myself to the police files, I resolved to meet up with my police contact, Andrew Barrington, and get the facts surrounding the case.
Officer Barrington consented to meet at Luigi’s; a video game themed bar on Acland Street. It was a hot Saturday, and the St Kilda crowds were wild and varied; thousands of English, Irish and American tourists flocked to the beach, whilst teenagers vomited on the rickety roller-coasters of the seaside theme Park. The scenes were impressionistic, with Bosch-like crowds, bollards lined with palm trees. Myriad junkies asked for change and cigarettes of passers by— on the street, whilst bips and boops sang out from customers playing the vintage arcade machines behind me.
I sat at the outside tables, drunks brushed by me on the cramped and cracked sidewalk, car pollution and smog slept thinly at knee level over the scene, as the green and orange blur of a passing tram flashed by.
I saw officer Barrington approaching from a distance and waved as he crossed the road, shortly he sat down at the table and we ordered two Pale Ales.
‘Thanks for comin’ Bazza’ I said with genuine appreciation. Barrington scratched his face, and muttered a kind of ‘no wukkers ’ through his chin.....he seemed to have a lot on his mind. ‘So what have you got on this St Kilda killing?’ I asked directly, ‘There’s almost nothing online about it, barely made a dent in the press.’ ‘Jesus Pharlap.’ Barrington sighed, ‘Haven’t you got anything better to do than dig up old corpses?’ ‘You know me Baz—’ I said, ‘I’m determined to end up a chalk outline myself. But this corpse is still pretty fresh i’d say. Why are the cops choking on this chicken anyway? What’s the unseen bone?’ ‘Look…’ Officer Barrington sighed, as our beers arrived and I took a big swig of lager; ‘The murder made the papers when it happened, toured the news for a week or so...but because the body has never been identified there hasn’t been much for the press to chew on. There’s no suspects, no motive or cause. We’ve only been barely able to piece together what actually happened.’ Barrington took a sip of beer, as I jotted down some notes. The officer looked down at my ex—left-hand for a moment, noticing the bandaged stub from the accident that had happened to me recently. ‘What happened to your hand?’ He asked. ‘My own bones have been chewed…You and I...’ I replied, ‘....Work in a dangerous line of work.....sometimes the danger of your profession leaks over to mine in unexpected ways ....probably best leave it at that. So what exactly DO the police know about this barbecued girl?’.
I noticed an extraordinary amount of discomfort in Barrington’s face as he discussed the girl. Being partially involved in the murder investigation, it seemed to have particularly disturbed him. He struggled uncomfortably in his seat, Barrington was a large muscular man with thick, black-rimmed glasses and layered, thin hair. His eyes seemed permanently tinged with paranoia.
‘Officially?’ Barrington replied nervously, ‘Nothing...... But unofficially....’ ‘You’ve got your own theories about who did this, don’t you?’ I asked making my own deductions. Bazza sighed and massaged the back of his neck; ‘Look’ he said, ‘Whatever I tell you here is completely off the record. You understand?’ I made an affirmative gesture.
‘You know well— I’ve been investigating various unsolved gangland killings for a long time.’ Said Officer Barrington, ‘We’ve discussed previously my unofficial research and interests.’ I nodded, motioning him to continue. ‘Well. Hexton Police Station is full of officer’s hunches. We’ve always known of these criminal families running things, and what not, but sometimes you don’t have the evidence to put the bastards away. This case goes back years....’
Another tram chimed past in the street as Bazza continued his story; ‘There was the Walsh Street Massacre in 1988; that set a wave of anxiety through the ranks. You’ve head of it?’ ‘Sounds familiar. That’s what ‘Animal Kingdom’ was about, right?’ I said. ‘Right. Before Howard took the guns away, you had the crime families, bank robbers, strings of crimes done with sawn-off shotguns in broader Hexton. Cops shot Greame Jensen, and Victor Pierce promised two cops would die in revenge attacks. After those two young coppers were murdered in Walsh Street, the cops fought back. Executed a bunch of the gang leaders. Then there were the trials of the Walsh Street killers, that bitch Wendy Pierce didn’t testify. Half the buggers never done time. I was trying to nail Peter McEvoy for a long time in the nineties. He moved up to NSW after he was freed.’ I furiously recorded notes as the officer spoke.
‘After the gangland killings of the nineties, and the Purana task force, it took years to catch up on who was doing what. Well that’s when I really went down a rabbit hole in my research. Started trailing these rich crime families who’d been running tricks over the NSW/Victorian border for over a century unchecked. I’m not talking about Gangitano, Gatto or the Manillas. Used to be all the crime was comin’ in from the docks, you know? The Painter and Dockers union, that’s where Victor Pierce worked, the Walsh Street murderer, the Moran family and the Carlton Crew, they were all running drugs through Port Melbourne. The Calabrian mafia, AKA the honoured society, the Ndrangheta—now they also got their claws into Australian society way back then too, they come down from Queensland, had their racketeering going through the fruit and vegetable markets. Everyone remembers the key events— Frank Benvenuto was killed in 2000, but even without their leader the ’Ndrangheta was obviously still operating —because in 2008 the cops seized 15 million ecstacy pills hidden in tomato cans from Calabria. Now, Frank Benvenuto rang Victor Peirce the day he died. You want my opinion— That’s because the thugs that organised Walsh Street, weren’t just acting on some petty revenge motive. The whole thing was planned from higher up, maybe Frank was fronting up to Peirce before he was shot, and maybe Peirce knew too much when he was blown away in 2002. You catch my drift?’
‘’Im trying my best to follow—’ I replied, still anxiously scribbling notes.
‘Keep up mate… Anyway listen, after the terrorist attacks on September 11, people have been too hung up on Islamic extremism to pay attention to what’s really happening with the Mafia and these other organisations, these crime families. Now there was way more knowledge of this in the police force, the internal corruption was proven to go right to the top….in the end — we know the Wood Royal Commission only really exposed the affairs of the Kings Cross Police in Sydney, barely scratched the surface of mafia interception and corruption within the government. Yeah, they brought in some regulations, hell… even that snake Roger Rogerson got done eventually,…the Labour party dealing with Mokbel was partially revealed… but all the while, secret meetings of the same groups were happening; members of corporations, corrupt police, board members, Australian politicians. I was still trailing them, I had addresses of mansions where these figures lived and hung out. Just waiting to catch a lucky break. This wasn’t just a few career criminals. It was like an underground cult.’
I polished off my beer and motioned with my hand to the waitress to bring out another one. ‘So you think this St Kilda killing was perpetrated by these underground crime families?’ I asked intrigued.
Bazza grew more paranoid still, almost sweating and glancing about him as if he was afraid of being watched. ‘There’s this urban legend among ...those interested in crime ....in this city. Have you ever heard of the the ‘Slaughter Theatre’ trilogy?’ ‘The what?’ I asked cluelessly. Barrington seemed peculiarly begrudging to keep telling me information about what he knew, nonetheless he obligingly indulged me;
‘Back in the days of Walsh Street there were rumours of these VHS tapes existing, you know?… It was rumoured that Peter McEvoy, Victor Pierce and other murderers involved in the police killings— used to film their crimes. Snuff videos —which would prove their identities in various murders —nail the Walsh Street killers, and hundreds of other crime figures….. these VHS were alleged to have been seen by multiple witnesses. The stickers on the old video tapes were supposed to be labelled ‘Slaughter Theatre’ in red permanent marker, creepy handwriting. That’s what all the legends say anyway. I know officers who claim to have seen some of this footage. I’m talking sadistic brutal shit. You remember Dennis Allen?’ ‘Sure’ I said. ‘Mr Death they used to call him, well— there’s apparently a snuff video of Allen cutting up one of his biker adversaries with a chainsaw, he’s covered in blood, films the whole thing as he approaches a bunch of slaughterhouse workers in their white gear. They’re all covered in blood and laughing their asses off, saying ‘What floor you working’ on then Dennis?’. Another guy I know claims he’s seen these tapes, proof of all kinds of things we just suspected… Mad Charlie being massacred at his home in Caulfield. Girls being raped and tortured and mutilated. One of the pieces of footage is allegedly of a group of about 30 members of the Comanchero Motorcycle club, and they’re standing around with a group of these government guys in suits, who pay them a bunch of money, then what follows is a sadistic orgy which ends in bloodshed and bizarre ritual.’
I sweated, my hand starting to cramp from the overload of information. I held my hand up for a moment, indicating Bazza to give me a second to catch up. Finally, after a deep breath, and massaging my wrist, I waved; ‘Go on’. Barrington continued;
‘In the nineties and noughties —more rumours popped up about these secret videos. Apparently rich perverts we’re paying criminals for these snuff films, this Slaughter Theatre….. some of them were even getting top notch production values with members of the Melbourne creative industry being involved. At least that’s how the rumours go. The legends are constantly embellished. In the 90’s it was burnt DVD’s which the files were allegedly being copied to. Press dubbed it ‘Slaughter Theatre part Two’. Then downloaded files, and well, you can imagine how the rumours escalated in the modern age of social media.’
I tried to absorb what Barrington was telling me, but had to admit it sounded suspiciously like an urban conspiracy theory. I tapped at my pad with the nib of my pen. ‘So how exactly does this relate to the burnt female corpse that was dumped here in St Kilda?’.
‘Listen,’ Barrington said adjusting his thick, black glasses nervously and preparing to stand; ‘I’m afraid there’s only so much I can tell you without compromising my job. That girl was burnt alive, with a can of gasoline. Autopsy confirms that much. If I tell you that urban legends suggesting that her murder was filmed— are prominent in police circles, would you even believe me? What if I told you I had proof that this murder was filmed as part of a third instalment in this snuff trilogy? Slaughter Theatre - Part Three. That these murders are having a resurgence ——that its all part of this conspiracy?’ ‘I’d say you were either crazy, or had something that would make the biggest news story in Australian history.’ I replied bluntly. Officer Barrington stood up and handed me a business card; ‘That’s all I can do, mate—to tip you off. Listen Pharlap… If you want to learn more I suggest you dig around about this snuff video, I think you’ll find more than you had imagined in your worst daydreams. The.... You’re going to want to speak to the guy —on this card’— (Barrington handed me a business card)— ‘…about a murder that happened at the Three Vertice construction site in Footscray in July 2016. Sorry I can’t be of more help...’ Officer Barrington then shook my hand firmly, and I thanked him before he disappeared into the St Kilda crowds.
So that was how it started. How my innocence was tainted, and I was dragged into this most unnerving and unusual investigation. The business card Barrington gave me belonged to somebody called ‘Drendyl Pex. Three Vertice Construction Company. Owner. Manager.’
For a moment I sat back, and tried to get the tangled mess out of my brain, sipping at the last of my beer. Surely Barrington had gone a bit nuts— reeked of classic Police conspiracy stuff. The idea that the whole criminal underworld is linked through some kind of satanic cult— it was absurd. Satanic Panic. And as for this snuff film? Well… I just had trouble believing that something that could’ve appeared on a /4chan creepy pasta/ could exist in any tangible reality. Nonetheless, right now, it was my only lead. If Barrington believed that the murder of the girl at St Kilda… could somehow be linked to another murder in Footscray, i’d have to investigate it, any other solution would be neglectful.
It was about a twenty five minute drive out to Footscray in my Valiant Charger. I had the air conditioning up to full blast, and my tinted windows down. The radio was blaring FURY FM, some poncy hipster DJ raving on about his succulent garden, and his batch of home-brewed beer. I was about to turn it off when a killer track came on, Head On by The Jesus and Mary Chain, so I cranked the volume and hit the gas. The DJ may have been an arsehole… but he did have decent taste in music, the next tracks were also great; King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, MGMT -Little Dark Age, ORB -Man in the Sand, Nap Eyes -Don’t be Right. The synthetic pulses of the Chromatics cover of Kate Bush’s ’Running up that Hill’ was playing as I pulled into the car park of the Three Vertice construction company.
It was a busy location, with an adjacent yard; many workers in their flouro orange high vis neons and yellow hard hats coming and going. I stumbled over a poorly concreted patch of turf, up a flight of roughly hewn stairs, through a mesh steel fence, until I came into a sheltered office, and temporary reception desk. The lady at the desk gave me a funny look, and I realised I was still wearing my aviators and tennis visor, and I removed them for politeness. ‘Pharlap Dronefire. I’m here to speak to Drendyl Pex’, I said flatly. The blonde woman with dark wirey eyebrows still had an aggravated look on her face, she scowled and said, barely curteously; ‘I’m afraid Mr Pex is quite busy, do you have an appointment?’ I thought cunningly for a few split seconds; ‘No. But this is of a very private and urgent nature. Mr Pex will see it in his interest that we speak as soon as possible—’ ‘Im sorry sir, but Mr Pex….’— ‘—You can tell him it’s in relation to something that happened last year—at this site— he may want to keep confidential…’ The woman sighed, looking fearfully at her computer, ‘Ill try his office, if you just want to take a seat Mr….?’ ‘Dronefire’ I repeated, casually taking a seat on the old, tattered couch.
It was about a seven minute wait —before a well dressed man, with shoulder length, greased-back hair, purple waist coat, cravat, dark velvet jacket and long boots walked into the room. The woman stood up to introduce us, but before she had a chance the man lunged forward and stood before me with his right hand held straight. The man commanded a strange authority, so that I found I quickly leapt to my feet in his presence, and before I knew it we were in the middle of a firm handshake. ‘Mr Dronefire I believe? Drendyl Pex.’ ‘It’s a pleasure, sir, Is there somewhere we can talk a little more privately?’ ‘Of course, please… Come to my onsite office.’ I followed Mr Pex outside of the temporary unit, and we walked up a hazardous mud slide mountain to a— 3 metre square— white cubicle or trailer. Pex opened a door, and we entered into the luxurious space, decked out with a bar and expensive furniture and entertainment system. ‘Can I fix you a rum, Mr Dronefire?’ Pex asked. ‘I’ve never said no to a rum before.’ I replied truthfully. Pex pulled down a bottle from his packed shelves, dropped ice machine cubes into two glasses and poured. ‘On the rocks suit?’ ‘Yeah…that…uh…that….suits perfectly’ I replied. Drendyl handed me a three quarter full glass of pale liquid; ‘Have you tried it?’ He asked ‘Australian brand, from Adelaide, Gunnery, white spiced. Best this country has to offer.’ I took a sip of the drink, and was surprised by the earthy taste, it was dirty but delicious.
‘Mr Pex’ I said, ‘May I be upfront?’ ‘You want to know about the death that occurred last year.’ Pex replied; ‘I’m guessing you’re a Private Investigator or amateur sleuth of some kind.’ ‘Your receptionist passed on the hint, I suppose?’ I asked. ’I must apologise for our quote-unquote reception. It’s a temporary head office, we’re building a new office space here. Miss Weabley is actually our occupational health and safety manager, just filling the desk whilst we get a new temp in—’ ‘I’m not here representing anyone in a legal capacity Mr Pex’… I said, sensing Pex’s defenses, ‘…you guessed it right, I am a P.I-——— my client is interested in a murder that occurred in St Kilda recently, however other trails of research have led me to a you. Did the death last year occur at this location?’ ‘Aha!’ said Pex, seeming to have figured me out, ‘You’re following the urban legend surrounding a certain snuff film.’ I tried not to act surprised. ‘I can provide you some information about that. But follow me, I want to show you something first.’
Pex swigged the rest of his drink, and placed down the empty glass, I followed his lead, and we exited the white building, trudging around a muddy path on the outer rim of the construction zone. My head was warm from liquor and smog, the sprawling horizon bore the haphazard scattering of Footscray industry. ‘Just up here…i’ll show you…. is where the death happened Mr Dronefire. Alice Goddard. Up over the hill there. I’ll show you the place alright…but….. Are you familiar with Footscray at all?’ ‘Not really…Not a bulldogs fan….I…uh…I barrack for Essendon.’ I joked. ‘Blasphemy’ Pex smiled with formulaic small talk, ‘This was Wurundjeri land, where we are standing. Some time ago it was an immense lagoon where the Koories went fishing. There was a factory here at the turn of the century when the industrial revolution hit. They bulldozed it in the seventies, and it’s been nothing much more than landfill up until 2007 when the Three Vertice construction company purchased it. It’s been a sort of base for some time, although our head office used to be in Fitzroy. We are an equal opportunity employer Mr Dronefire. In the last 20 years, over 50 thousand employees; South Vietnamese, Sudanese, Ethiopian, Somalian, Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan, Indonesian —they have all come through here.’ ‘I’m not quite sure why you are telling me this Mr Pex’ I confessed. ‘I know you’re not a fool Mr Dronefire. We’ve been through our trials and tribulations, pleaded our side in court cases. I don’t particularly enjoy going through the ordeal of recounting the horrific tragedy that happened here last year over and over again. But if I can be plain with you, off the record…’ I nodded. ‘There’s no doubt that girl Alice Goddard was murdered out here, and if you ask me, the likelihood that someone under the employ of the Three Vertice Construction company committing that murder— it’s more than just a likelihood. Of course, you can understand…. why, as leader of this company I would be cautious about publicity over this, i’m not a monster. My pity for the girl is endless. I’ve been very frank with the police about giving them all our employee files.’
I felt like I had just taken in a whiff of pure Drendyl heroine, and had to take a minute to contemplate it. ‘I’m not here to accuse you or your company of anything untoward Mr Pex. Just to seek out the truth. To be honest, I have absolutely nothing in my research which even suggests that the murder which occurred in St Kilda is in any way related to the death of Alice Goddard.’ ‘Well… if you’d done your research, you’d know that she—Alice— was burnt alive.’ Pex stated plainly, ‘Similar autopsy results as your St Kilda murder. I read the newspapers too Mr Dronefire. If I was a police man, i’d definitely be looking at the murders as a double homicide, or possibly two murders in a repeat serial killing. Mind you, this country’s never been well equipped to deal with the serial killer phenomenon, the AFP has a history of bungled investigations in that regard.’ ‘This snuff film?’ I asked increasingly intrigued, but distracted—’You said you were aware of——‘ ‘Everyone in Melbourne is aware of Slaughter Theatre, Mr Dronefire. It’s a legend that’s been spreading around parties in the Northern suburbs for as long as Venereal disease.’ I tried to hold back a chortle, given the morose aspect of the subject matter.
Mr Pex began to walk again, and I followed him up over the last dirt pile which led to the alleged murder site. We were quite high up on the elevation now and had a good view of the Melbourne CBD. Pex stared outwards towards the skyscrapers looming over the Yarra on the horizon. ‘Do you know much about the Crown Casino?’ Pex asked, looking in the general direction of the deluxe crown towers on the horizon. ‘Only that it’s putting a lot of cash in Andrew Packer’s pocket’ I replied. ‘Pfa haha… Packer’s barely here, he’s too busy in Sydney building his 60 million dollar pad at Barangaroo, when he’s not brushing gently against his Scientologist buddies. Good mates with Tom Cruise our James, they’ve all stayed out here at Crown towers too; prominent Scientologists, the Kardashians, the Bush’s, the Rumsfields. Kerry Packer was much more interesting than his son, you know Dronefire. Back in the days of VHS, back when him and Rupert Murdoch were fighting their cold war over who was to be the king pin of the Australian media.’ I took a moment to absorb the serene, pale view of the spires of Hexton CBD, and the dark crown towers silhouetted by the glare of the sun. ‘I’m waiting for the day when the full history of Consolidated press broadcasting comes out,’ Pex continued, ‘…there’s a dark past there the public may never know about. But ol’ Kerry, he knew how to separate recorded history into public and private.’ ‘How do you mean exactly?’ I asked ‘I’m not going to spill all the dirt on Kerry—Mr Dronefire. My father and he had some shared acquaintances. We’d be here all year, and besides, what’s the point. The old cunts dead. You’re a younger bloke, aren’t you Dronefire? I’m guessing 34?’ Pex continued without waiting for an answer, ‘My generation will always remember the day— ha— when Nine Network over stepped Packer’s rule book….’ We reached the top of the hill and stared down into a junkyard of scrap material where the body of the girl had allegedly been dumped. ‘During the shortly lived ‘Australia’s Naughtiest Home Videos’ hosted by the Triple M yobbo Doug Mulray, do you remember? Grown men all over the country were loosening their belts with joy, but Kerry knew there was a time and a place for pornography, and Network television wasn’t it… Haha…. ‘Get that shit off the air!’ That’s what he told the Nine execs when he called them. You should have seen Doug Mulray’s face. Now young James, he’s much more interested in chasing girls, much more interested spending his time in Casino’s than policing the media-boundaries of public and private.’
‘Forgive me Mr Pex’ I interrupted, ‘Maybe i’m misunderstanding all of this. But what exactly does this have to do with the snuff film? Slaughter Theatre?’
Pex seemed satisfied he had given me enough time to look at the scrapyard the body had allegedly been dumped, his body language suddenly changed, and suggested I had overstayed my welcome, and he authoritatively began to escort me back down the dirt hilltop. ‘I can tell you everything I know about the snuff film Mr Dronefire. I’ve heard plenty of rumours about these murders being connected. About them being filmed, and what not. The rumours are everywhere out West and up North in Victoria. They have been for the last 50 years— every time a body shows up, theres a new trail of gossip. Melbourne IS the murder capital of Australia, Mr Dronefire. But unfortunately, I can attest to the truth of those claims no more than I can—the millions of claims about the Loch Ness monster. For all intents and purposes, those of us who are sane rightly dismiss such conspiracies as absurd. Right wing nuts who can’t handle disorder in everything, want everything to be part of some master plan. Then you’ve got the left wing vultures, media types who love a scandal, any fad you can write an article about, or make an indy film inspired by. That’s all this is. Now I have to apologise Dronefire, but I am a busy man. Always happy to help out any investigation, and i’d just as soon see whoever is behind these horrendous crimes behind bars, as much as you, the police— and the girls parents. Now—‘ I could see Pex was wrapping up, but I wasn’t a hundred percent satisfied with the information I had been given, and needed a few more points; ‘Do you mind if stick around here for another ten minutes, just to get some quick interviews with the staff?’ Pex looked mildly disgruntled but not resistant; ‘I can give you ten minutes. Longer than that and you’d be interfering with our productivity i’m afraid. You can speak to our onsite supervisor, he works with most of the staff here.’
Drendyl whistled, and an ocker looking fellow with a mullet, safety vest and a hairy arms made his way over. ‘Fortyn Kildare, this is Private Investigator Dronefire. He’d like to ask you a few questions about the death of Alice Goddard.’ Pex excused himself and disappeared, as I shook Mr Kildare’s hand. ‘You’re a little late aren’t ya?’ asked the gruff man in a thick Aussie accent; ‘Press was all over this ten months ago. What are you hoping to dig up now—eh??’
Continued in Part Two: https://www.reddit.com/libraryofshadows/comments/7new6s/slaughter_theatre_part_two/

The Melbourne Ritual

It was raining lightly. I slinked along the Yarra Promenade, heading away from the crown casino amidst the somber Melbourne crowds. I spotted Kenny standing on the Evan Walker bridge, looking down into the water, staring at patterns of concentric circles of raindrops hitting water— cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
He was in off duty clothing. Brown fleece collar jacket, characteristic sunglasses and exposed balding head with tufts of stringy black hair. I’ve been spying on Officer Lothar for over a month. Ever since the yellow envelope turned up on my desk, addressed, ‘Urgent. For the eyes of -P. Dronefire’—inserted, a photograph of our mate Kenny, and a stack of hundred dollar notes. That’s me, Pharlap Dronefire’, (I work as a private investigator, from my inexpensive offices in South Yarra.)
Kenny’s been staying in a hotel in Southbank since Monday. I watched with binoculars— and waited till he left this afternoon, then followed behind him on the busy bridge crowds, crossing the river as the last glimmering rays of the sun fell behind the skyline of skyscrapers, domes and architraves on the Hexton North bank.
They say there are no corrupt cops anymore, well it’s true the old boys clubs were all taken down by the commissions in the 90’s and 00’s. They aren’t hiding in plain sight perhaps, but the smart ones just evolved, Kenny Lothar is one of the most cunning corrupt cops I’ve ever reviewed. A real bastard. If my hunch is right, Lothar dropped business mogul Art Herraway off the very same bridge I now watched him standing on, chopped up body parts in a green garbage bag —submerged now beneath ice cold, turpid Victorian water. That was three years ago today, it’s no wonder Kenny was staring down so melancholically into the green water of the Yarra river. He’s got a lot to think about.
We cross through the Flinders Street Station tunnel, and I follow at a safe distance in the busy commuter crowds. I almost lose sight of him as the green and yellow tram pulls past, ringing it’s gentle chime— but I just catch his frame as Kenny ducks into a small Vietnamese restaurant on the other side of the street. Shortly, I sneak in and take a seat at a small table behind a patterned screen, where I can see him but he can’t see me.
I order a raw beef Pho, taking a moment to absorb my surroundings and re examine Kenny’s case files in my mind. Something happened whilst Lothar was on the beat in Sydney, I’m sure he was involved with a murder that happened on Mcellhorne stairs in Kings Cross. Then he gets some contacts in the Victorian Police and transfers to Melbourne, but whatever he was up to in Sydney— he’s continuing it down here—I’m sure of that. There’s an underworld of clues, from the Walsh street massacre, to the gangland killings of the nineties. Unsolved murders and connections that create a puzzle leading straight to Kenny. Twenty two orange gold fish swish their tails longingly in a nearby fish tank next to a wooden statue of Bhudda. Fumes and aromas float over the counter adorned with green dragon carvings and a row of ceramic maneki-neko cats waving their arms in unison, below— Kenny’s balding head wrinkles with tension as he waits for his food.
I won’t pretend he doesn’t scare me. If it were just for Kenny’s underbelly credentials, and links to the Melbourne mafia— that would be enough to make me think twice about taking the case. But there’s more to Kenny Lothar than just power and murder. He is into some strange things— the occult. Pacts, rituals, self flaggelation. The case is so out of my usual line of work, I can’t help but wonder what the fuck I am doing taking it up.
I was slurping cautiously at my pho for two or three minutes before I got the break I needed. Kenny stands up to use the bathroom, leaving his wallet on the table. I know I’ve only got a slim chance to get it right, standing up as if I’m also going to relieve myself, then the subtle yawn, and sleight of hand. Before anyone notices I’m back out on the street, not having paid for my Pho, running —and holding the keycard for Kenny’s hotel room in my pocketed hand.
The rain increases. You get some weird cases as a Private Investigator. Most are straightforward; spying on cheating partners, divorce cases, over protective parents. Then there’s the ten percent, the odd cases from secretive private contractors, where you only learn bits and pieces about your client, what they want to find out and why. No doubt a lot of it is criminal linked, even though I do my best to filter out those types of clientele. Some of them are just perverts, mad eccentrics. This particular client was extremely secretive. Dealt only in cash, and written correspondence. I’d have hesitated entirely from being involved, but it’s good pay— and I’d do just about anything to help nail that prick Lothar.
As I’m walking back over the bridge towards Kenny’s hotel I start thinking about the objectives. The guy wanted pictures of Kenny’s hotel room— he was very specific about that. Seems very hung up on Kenny’s private activities. Wanted detailed notes and photographs on any occult rituals he was conducting. I mean—What the fuck, right? Ever get the feeling you’re getting caught up in the dangerous weekend games of eccentric rich people?
I pulled my collar up, ducking out of the rain inconspicuously into the Travelodge lobby. Trying to appear casual and sure of myself as I walked past reception and entered the elevator.
Kenny’s apartment was on the tenth floor, apartment 1001. Fortunately there was no one else in the lift, and I guiltlessly approached Kenny’s door once in the top floor. He had the ‘No servicing- do not disturb’ card over the door handle. The keycard tripped the beeping lock, and the door opened. There was a strange musty smell that hit me the instant I opened the door to his room.
Then the vision hit my eyes, he had been busy! Kenny’s hotel room was messy. It was a fairly big room, one huge decorative pillar marking the left wall, and drawn velvet curtains adorning broad, thick windows overlooking the city. There was a hexagonal table beneath the window covered in papers, and an adjacent chair on top of a zebra patterned rug which seemed to be concealing something staining the floorboards. The floor of the adjacent room was covered in curious objects that required detailed analysis. I resolved to first examine the table and the rug. Moving aside the chair, I quickly flipped up the zebra rug, and gasped as I observed the curious design beneath.
I took three photographs of the symbol with my phone, before continuing my analysis. It was a huge symbol, inked on the floorboards. The pattern was a kind of triangle with three six-shaped arms attached to all the vertices. My first thought was that the red stain was painted with blood, but as I touched the wet surface I concluded that it was more likely some thick kind of ink, pigment or paint. Certainly the symbol had been created for ritual occult purposes, thus far unknown.
I carefully placed the rug exactly where it was, so everything would be found exactly where Kenny had left it.
From my current vantage point I could see that there were two more symbols painted red on the walls in the first room; a circle with a serpentine line running through it on the left wall, and a symmetrical triad of lines on the right wall. I took some more photos of the symbols, and the layout of the first room with my phone.
I sat down at the table now, quickly examining the note books, covered in scrawled handwriting, books and reference material scattering the surface. It was immediately clear to me, that all of the written material was directly related to the ritual which Kenny had been enacting in the adjacent room— so I figured I’d better get a look at that room before any of the written material would make a lick of sense.
I walked cautiously towards the doorway marking the dark room beyond. I tried the light switch, but it appeared that Kenny had tampered with the power circuit. I turned the flash feature on, and snapped a few more pics of the dark room.
A friend of mine was a cop, who investigated the Hotel room of Vegas Shooter Stephen Paddock, the guy who turned his hotel room into a fortress of guns, before killing 58 and injuring 515 people at a country music concert. My friend had told me going inside that room had filled him with such a sickness and revulsion at being in the lair of such a demented mastermind he’d had to take psychological leave for a month. I was starting to feel the same sickness exploring Kenny’s hotel room.
The most obvious aspect of the layout of the darkened room was the kind of checkerboard Kenny had painted in the middle of the room. The entrance to the room was marked in each corner by two pillars, with square plinths, and miniature stair cases leading down each side. Leaning against the ridged pillars were an ornate Axe, and on the other side was a heavy, Ancient gold shield emblazoned with a red scorpion.
Scattered all around the checkerboard were a vast array of objects which could at first be construed as random clutter, but only slowly developed a sense of order — that chilled me to the bones. Drawn on squares of the checkerboard I could make out an upside down crescent moon in the lower corner, and a thin, narrow isosceles triangle in the upper right corner. To my horror, I saw too, in the centre of the checkerboard was a yellow piece of parchment — upon which appeared to be resting ; a bleeding, severed human hand. I now realised with abhorrent terror that the red liquid pouring from the severed hand was the same texture of the symbols in the first room, they had indeed been inked in somebody’s blood. Victim currently unknown. The smell of death became suddenly more disconcerting.
At the back of the room, lining the entry to the bedroom there were two classic statues, of Ancient Greek appearance, depicting the forms of two voluptuous women. Immediately in front of me, at the foot of the doorway to the darkened room was a sigil— two circles joined together by a malignant double-U.
I was unable to process the other scattered objects at that time, so resolved to return to Kenny’s notes which would hopefully bring some clarity or closure as to the meaning of these horrific scenes.
Once more, I sat down at Kenny’s chair. I flicked through several lined note pads, until I found a diagrammatic illustration of some of the items in the other room. This did help provide context to at least some of the items in Kenny’s ritual. Nothing about the severed hand.
The illustrations were grotesque and horrific. The placement of items in the other room mimicked very closely the items in the illustration, but the labels didn’t provide much more than a superficial meaning to the display. The shield leaning against the left pillar, with the scorpion engraved on it was marked as ‘Soldier’s Shield from Motaris’, whilst the decorative axe leaning against the right pillar was labelled ‘The Axe of Sagron’. Scanning the other illustrations I saw that the W shaped sigil was revered as the ‘Sigil of the Star Diver’, whilst the two statues of naked women were labelled ‘The Godess of the Dawn’ and ‘The Sister of the Moon’ respectively. These sculptures were given particular significance—as an ethereal field between the feminine statues was labelled ‘The Gateway’.
Another marking got my attention, and I had to return to the darkened room to confirm its presence, because I hadn’t noticed it the first time. Sure enough, inlaid beside the checkered board there was a cornucopia wedged on a tripod from which fumes were emerging- grey streamers billoughing through the darkness. Based on the diagram I gathered that there was ritual incense burning in the cornucopia and that this was the origin of that strange smell I had noticed on first entering the apartment. Returning to the diagrams, I began to panic as I realised that the herbs burning in the cornucopia weren’t in fact incense as I had first deduced, but some form of hallucinogen— utilised to accelerate the heightened state required for completion of the ritual.
Instantly I started to feel light headed, wondering if the hallucinogen was already taking some effect upon me. I must have inhaled quite a large amount already, I covered my mouth with a handkerchief to create a temporary toxin mask.
Just then, my paranoia was exacerbated, as I heard a clanking noise at the front door. I shivered, my soul sinking. Had Kenny returned early and been granted a spare keycard from reception? I cowered beneath the door, my heart began to pound in my chest like a professional’s basketball. Once more the door latch quivered and shook as though somebody were jangling the latch on the other side. Finally a voice called out, it was a vibrato tone, female, with an Eastern European accent; ‘Mr Lothar? This is cleaning. Do you want the service? Clean sheets? Mr Lothar?’ I breathed a sigh of relief, and summoned the deepest voice I could; ‘No thank you. Busy thank you.’ The sound of trolley wheels slinking away indicated the woman had taken the hint.
I breathed heavily, trying to recuperate from the trauma. As I stumbled away from the door, suddenly I felt a terrible sensation within. I realised that the hallucinogens were indeed taking effect. My head throbbed, and my face grew red, filling with blood. Then my eyes began to mist up, and I felt my body growing weak— soon I fell to the carpet upon my knees.
My vision was drawn to the terrifying sight beyond the large glass window— framed by red, velvet curtains. Something had occurred outside. Something uncanny and horrific. The day had changed. The sun was gone. Nature had somehow leapt off its natural track of organic physics. That which we call daylight and night had lost dimensional form, and their aspect had merged with the vast indescribable void of the universe.
It is almost impossible to describe the hallucinations I saw outside that window, except to say that the Melbourne skyline was changing rapidly, in the nature of a time-lapse video. Architecture, once familiar became foreign and disorientating. It was as though I was watching the build up of human culture along the Yarra from a perspective outside of the usual constraints of time. I remembered from my history classes, that the aboriginal Wurundjeri tribes had called the Yarra river Birrarrung, meaning "Place of Mists and Shadows". Never did this description seem so apt, for what appeared to me now — a world only perceivable as a kind of fog of place. First, all of civilisation seemed to vanish, as indigenous tribes gathered beneath gum trees for their corroborees, then did I see white settlers, and British red coats come and conquer the land, then suddenly dark and futuristic sky scrapers leapt from the earth.
Now something happened that even further defied explanation. My body seemed to grow numb and limp, and collapsed upon the floor. The truly strange aspect however, was that I watched this happen, seemingly from outside my own body. I found myself now, somehow as a ghost inhabiting the space apparently outside of my usual physical and mental constraints.
As I looked around the hotel room, everything within seemed ominously different, red hued and sinister. Particularly a curious demonic glow originated from the other room where the ritualistic items had been laid out upon the floor. There was an odd electric energy coming from within that room now.
Most of all, there was a plainly visible force field of energy growing, like a vortex, between the statues of the two Greek Godesses. This vortex now seemed to open up, like a gateway—- onto a world with a red sky. Beyond the gate was an immense marble staircase leading downwards into some unknown ethereal city.
I summoned up the courage to journey through the gates, knowing that I was surely hallucinating from the unknown drug, but prepared to ride it out. I stepped down the strange marble steps, coming into an unknown, slightly futuristic city. Perhaps it was Melbourne in the future, I couldn’t discern with any confidence. There did seem to be some grand palace or castle where the Crown Casino had been, and Kings Road was marked by a distinct vibrant road built of shiny red bricks.
There were no cars, or streetlights- but all around were immense skyscrapers and modernist buildings made of glass and steel. The river water of the Yarra had apparently dried up completely. I soon stood on the ground where once the Waterside Workers Hotel had been, there was now only a curious labyrinth of white, marble stair cases leading up and down in a confused jumble of intention. For a moment I sat on the step, flustered and bewildered by the strange situation and the concrete real ness of my imaginary world. I felt the presence of a kind of grid of familiarity— stretching out on the horizon. I felt strange allures pulling me and enticing me onwards. I feared these forces, and yet could not deny them. There was an odd heat and humidity. Something was compelling me to descend further down upon the staircases, heading underground into the catacombs beneath this strange city. The further down I went, the more intense the heat became, until finally there appeared an open platform which looked out into a vast abyss of plateaued rock and raging flame.
Amidst the hades-like landscape in the lower caverns, my hallucinations now took full and plain form. Amidst the acreage of darkness and flame a titanic figure now came forward. The giant’s skin was lush crimson, and his naked body was taught and muscular, his head barely resembling some insectoid creature of earth. But the enormous, many sphered and barbed tail which swung from his buttocks, and his claw-like hands identified him as a giant humanoid scorpion of some form. The scorpion demon, who was half engulfed in flames now bent in the darkness, almost crouching in the opposite direction to me. I soon discerned that he was engaging to speak with another small figure, perched on a plateau of rock far out on the other side of the chasm.
Something even more peculiar happened then; my body suddenly seemed to go utterly limp. At first falling in an almost fainting motion, my mind suddenly faded as though into a dream-like place. I was no longer a walking human, but a floating invisible mass, a watching eyeball floating over the caverns of fire. Soon, I drifted and became the voyeur overlooking the terrible scorpion being, and as I grew closer I soon was able to view with clarity the other being he was talking to on the rocky plateau.
It was Kenny Lothar.
I tried to analyse my dream logic, obviously it made sense that I would hallucinate about Kenny, he was at the forefront of my mind due to the case. But as I began to overhear the conversation of the unlikeliest acquaintances, I marvelled at my mind’s fantastic longing.
‘The ritual is underway’, the sinister balding figure in sunglasses had stated. The immense flaming scorpion being flexed it’s muscular neck, and clamped it’s jaw, leering like an avalanche over Kenny; ‘Do you know what forces come to roost under cover of the red skies of Val Galais?’ Asked the scorpion in a booming voice. ‘My role is not to question the will of the beings outside the dome..’ Kenny replied cunningly; ‘Mine is only to serve.’ The giant red scorpion flushed its face and furrowed its brow in gesticulation; ‘That is a good answer, puny mortal. But I know that your species is incapable of acts that aren’t driven by the most base desires of personal gratification. You follow commands because you wish some of the glory of the coming age to be bestowed upon yourself. Confess it!’ ‘If I am to be gifted any fortune by supporting the armies of the winning side, should there be any discomfort in it?’ Kenny retorted, ‘All that matters is the end goal. Victory for the beings outside the dome!’ The scorpion glowed with wicked pride; ‘Yes! It is true. For the watcher is at hand, and the sacrifices are being made, piece by piece. The vultures move into place, and the shapeshifter reigns in the land of the setting sun. The dead armies shall hold back the forces of Tennylind and a new dark age shall Dawn’... I watched with fascination as my hallucinations played themself out. With intrigue I followed Kenny’s monologue as he spoke about his dark motives. I knew they were not real, just the product of my delirious brain trying to draw loose ends together.
Nonetheless, in my imagination Kenny Lothar began to explain to the horrific scorpion demon his back story in this hideous plot. He spoke of the corrupt police forces in NSW, and how they had gone underground during the Royal Commissions of the 1990’s. He spoke of secret meeting places in Bishop’s Valley, Bathurst, Canberra and Ballarat. Organisations united in a common purpose, to protect the agenda of corrupt white men; the Freemasons, the Druids guild, The order of the Red Seal, The Knights of the Roman Grid, The Future guard. He spoke of gangland killings, and shuffled ranks in the Victorian Police. In my dream, Kenny was not acting alone; but conducting his nefarious rituals for wealthy underground cults.
I knew the dream was becoming too absurd now, and like my mind was rejecting outright the state of being, I felt my ethereal self begin to drift and return to Kenny’s hotel room where I lay unconscious.
Strangely, however, my awareness of that perpendicular plane of existence didn’t utterly fade. I watched with my mind’s eye, as Kenny slowly ascended a labyrinth of marble staircases, until at last it appeared as if I was watching —as Kenny exited the elevator of the hotel. He seemed to walk in a tangent universe just beside my own, walking alongside his hotel room. I was now floating above my own body, which lay unconscious on the hotel floor, as Kenny entered through the vortex of colour.
But something was magnificently wrong. Surely, I thought, I was still hallucinating. Yet, why did the room look so enchantingly similar and yet different? As I floated above as an ethereal mist, I noticed that all the ritualistic paraphernalia lay in the adjacent room exactly as it had —- with only one minor difference....
The decapitated hand was no longer placed ceremoniously on the parchment in the middle of the checkered floor. Nor were the strange three symbols painted in blood in various locations in the room where my body lay unconscious. With infinite terror, my mind started to leap to horrorible conclusions. Kenny was rubbing his skin, as if coated in a thin layer of goo. He appeared to be adjusting to his transition back into this reality. How absurd this dream was becoming, I thought to myself.
With malice, Kenny now begun to pace around the dark room, as if checking the artefacts for his ritual. He then raced to his desk, checking over his notes, and reading furiously. I tried to move my body, or wake from slumber, but I remained trapped in that elusive immaterial dream space.
I continued to watch paralysed. Kenny now turned in his chair with terrible and malevolent purpose. Returning quickly to the other room, he appeared to see something. I watched with horror now, as he came back into the main room holding the decorated Axe from the ritual. I began to curse under my breath with fear, as Kenny methodically approached my unconscious body. He had the most sadistic look of glee in his eyes, and malice on his lips, as he grinned with yellowing teeth.
With one sharp movement, Kenny raised the heavy axe above his head, then with a movement as swift as light, the heavy metal carved through the flesh and bone of my left hand. Although still detached from my body, I somehow still felt a piercing pain in my wrist, that ached like swollen agony, and throbbed with pain, yet I had no mouth to scream.
Satanically satisfied, Kenny squatted next to my decapitated hand, extending two fingers and dipping them into my freshly drawn blood. Time seemed to flash forward, or backwards as Kenny timelapsed around the room, creating the strange symbols on the walls and floor which I had investigated. Then returning the bloody Axe to the pillar it was resting against, and moving my gored and grotesque severed hand into place on the parchment on the middle of the checkered floor. Somehow this all made some terrible sense in my dreaming mind, that I had perhaps become a part of Kenny’s terrible ritual.
That was then. This all stands now, only as some sort of curious dream. The severing of my hand, I can speak about with certainty. For when I awoke in a hospital bed, my left arm was nothing more than a stump. Mercifully the doctors stopped the blood loss, and probably saved my life, though how I got from Kenny’s hotel room to there, I’ll never know.
It’s been a significant period of recovering, and for now, the investigation of Kenny Lothar is on hold. Right now I am too fearful for my well being to continue.
However, I feel this will not be the last time I have a run in with that dangerous and reprehensible character.
(This is the second story surrounding Private Investigator P.Dronefire. You can read the first story 'The Cockroaches Between the Clues' at 'The Weird Fiction of Goitye Powerhouse)
https://weirdfictionofgoityepowerhouse.wordpress.com/2017/12/11/the-cockroaches-between-the-clues/

The Mangroves of Bishop's Valley - Chapter Four (Of Six)

[Transcribed from the dictaphone of Flynn VanDeBerg, during his investigation into a murder of a man who's body was dumped in the mangroves of a rural Australian Town]
Chapter four - ‘The gateway. 9 rifles.’
I'm thinking more and more about documents; hidden in the dark of the basement, down the stairs, behind the green door in the courtyard at the back of Archbishop Raymond Gubbel's house.
I'm convinced there's some piece of information there which holds the explanation of these awful going's on. Tommorrow I will break the lock, search for the answer, today I must lie here in my own bed; reflect, record...then sleep.
It's been two weeks since my last recorded journal. It's a Thursday. A great deal has happened in the last fortnight. I can only guess where to begin filling in my readers.
I don't know what it was that possessed me to concede to Pheobe, my prejudices against heroine had always been strong. She'd always been civil to me, and I couldn't be cold towards her when she invited me in, confiding in me that the others were out in Oper Bodie for the night. Maybe it was her melancholy loneliness that I understood, or the creepy weather, the eerie sounds and my aching thumb which persuaded me to accept a drink, then stay for a several others. Yeah maybe it was loneliness, or maybe it was something more ; unavoidable attraction, of flames, and moths and.... As I was gathering up the tarot Pheobe had innocently asked me if I was able to do a reading with the dummy cards. Of course I'd told her it was possible, obviously I was keen to try out the new deck in any capacity I could. The wine was flowing steadily again; dangerously. She'd asked me first, if I could do my own reading while she watched, so she knew what she was getting herself in for. I told her that it was considered a dangerous omen to read your own fortune, and that cultured practitioners avoided it; she'd then nervously taken the role of client.
'Shuffle the deck, and think over some predicament', I told her authoritatively. There was a heavy tension between us, not least since the subject of heroin had not yet been broached. We avoided eye contact as she contemplatively allowed the cards to slide around in her slender hands, half closing her eyes.
I had an uneasiness doing the reading which wasn't typical of my temperament. I'd never interfered with a layout before, but as soon as she placed down the first card, and I read with terror 'The pointer of the bone' something inside me had triggered, and I slammed my hand over hers. 'Wait!' I said hesitantly, 'I'm supposed to shuffle first.' As I quickly lifted and flicked the cards in casino style my brain was racing delicately, Why had I just felt the need to lie? That wasn't like me. Because of my research today? Because I didn't want to deal Pheobe a bad omen? The second time Pheobe dealt, I didn't interfere; even though once more, something about the arrangement of cards had me siphoning dread. The first card I laid out was the 'Milky Way' card, then Criss crossed on top of it, 'Judgement'. Why the repetition of these two cards again? What could it mean?
Pheobe stared at me now, sensing the anxiety in my eyes; 'What does it mean?' She stammered, echoing my thoughts, 'Is it bad?' 'No! Not at all.' I replied recovering, trying to create a more superficial answer than the one I sensed in my terror filled heart, 'It's a metaphysical question you are asking.' I didn't say the words that were truly on my tongue, the words I feared; 'It tells me your question is a broad one, about life, you're seeking ...an answer ...to something profoundly deep, or perhaps you are trying to grapple with the random processes of the universe.' She looked at me, cynical but yearning, as if she knew I was right, but pondered the vagueness of the answer, couldn't any question be considered in that vain? No, not all questions. I laid out four more cards, then flipped them over one by one; Star cross'd lovers, the unlucky bushman. The rainbow serpent, the corroboree.
I didn't like the thoughts coming into my mind. But it felt impossible not to play them out now. 'Well?' She asked impatiently. I rubbed my face with apprehensive tenseness; 'The lovers in the past tense, to some degree I feel your question is about yourself, about fate?' 'Don't teeter around' she snapped, 'Obviously it's a question about love. I don't need your interpretation to see that the cards at least are on the ball.' 'Right' I said, wishing I could somehow move backwards in time, instead of forwards to the inevitable pitfall ahead; 'The unlucky bushman rising ...is in direct relationship with your fears.' I said avoiding what I read there, 'But what does it mean?' she hissed. I sighed heavily; 'Uh...it could mean, that there is a male figure who has recently entered your life. A man...a man who is...' 'Is what?' 'Doomed... Perhaps... Doomed...To some unpredictable fate.' Pheobe went silent. I read on, afraid to dwell for too long.
'The rainbow serpent and the corroboree in the future tense...' I said thoughtfully, (as this part at least hadn't clarified completely in my mind); 'There's a meeting place. An event in the future. A perilous meeting...' Pheobe leapt in here, trying to interpret the cards herself; 'A meeting on serpentine road,' she said; 'The man of my affection is fated to a fateful meeting on Serpentine road?' 'No..' I stopped her, my heart pounding, not liking the insinuation; 'I don't think the cards would suggest anything so literal.' 'So what then?' 'I...uh...' I stammered, 'Let me look at the final cards to put it in perspective.' I flipped the final four cards in a vertical row. 'The Gateway', '9 Rifles', 'Fall of the outlaw', 'Ye olde hangman'.
Some incalculable misery ran through my blood as I digested the cards before me. First, the uncanny and unwholesome fear came; that in spite of my best efforts and protestation, I was in some sense reading my own fortune, and even more, that there wasn't just the slightest of a hint of the tragic about it. Pheobe just looked at me silently now, her eyes demanded an explanation of the cards dealt. 'To the immediate future, and the conclusion of your fortune,' I said gulping in the back of my throat. 'There is something...something...' 'What?' She said, 'Something bad isn't it?' 'I don't know. Cards can be ambiguous. But the meeting referred to seems to be fated to some foreseeable ill.' 'What do you see?' She persisted. 'I....uh...the gateway. The gateway implies the opening up of some new...' 'Barry's Gateway! That's a place. It's a plateau up in Oper Bodie!' Pheobe yelled, 'Something about Barry's gateway.' 'No. I think you're being too literal. 9 rifles is a force of negativity, something surmounting against you ...or ...the male figure. There is a definite descent, an end to the narrative. A tragic decline to the romance, something....' 'What's the hangman mean?' She asked, 'what's the fall of the outlaw?.' I went quiet, feeling green, I backed away from the cards. Pheobe had sensed it in me.
I hadn't resisted at all, happy to take on any escape. She dove towards me and our lips met, the wine was heavy on both our lips, but the heat was irresistible, I felt my eyes close. Before I knew it she had pulled off her loose fitting top, and my hands were running over her soft flesh.
What impulse had so overpowered me? I wasn't a creature of such simple persuasion. In the frolicking of our passionate embrace, moving to Pheobe's bedroom; anything had seemed plausible, and with a sense of foreboding on the horizon I so desperately wanted to escape into the present. My pants had been around my ankles as she had thus straddled me. For a long time we warmly melded, thrusting toward nothing but a chemical bliss.
When she'd sidled off for a moment I had appreciate the tease, continuing to stroke my hard cock. I hadn't even registered negative emotion as I watched her tie the strap around her arm, and push the syringe over the bubbling spoon. The intoxication was all over me, I'd only asked ; 'Why do you need it?' To which she had seductively whispered; 'Try it. Try it.' And somehow all will power and resistance within me had absconded. I tied the black leather strap on myself, pulling until it was taught and my arm throbbed with lack of blood flow, the pain in my blackened thumb increased and I welcomed the sharp piercing dullness of the needle which heralded a christ-like relief from burden. The instant the chemicals hit my bloodstream I felt the warm thrill of incalculable ecstasy which I had avoided my entire life. The screaming apathy of utter release from the pain of life.
I don't recall at what stage in our love-making the hallucinations begun. It all sits fresh in my memory like a dream I've just awoken from. I remember kissing her neck, when I'd noticed something unusual about the birthmark below her collar bone. It pulsed. I'd calmly watched it grow, the laceration glowing like pink neon, as the lips of the wound, pursed and opened up like a budding rose petal. Emitting light. I vaguely remember looking inside that gaping pink hole, and inside the periscope of pink ribbon: viewing objectively a thousand sexual fantasies, bodies writhing over each other in a glorious bright-pink mardigras of lust and life. Cocks sliding in and out of cunts like pistons. Platforms of tits. I must have lost time.
It could've been hours later for all I know, as I recall coming to a relative degree of consciousness, slumped against the grimy bedroom wall. The walls were textured like leaves. Wet leaves. Pheobe was not in sight, but I was hallucinating twice as much now. I remember feeling like my body was submerged in water. That the room was filled with ecstasy, like a bath tub, but through some unseen sinkhole --joy was slowly draining.
Something had alerted me to the sensation in my penis, and I had looked down, initially seeing Pheobe's dainty hand rubbing furiously up and down. But then I'd looked, surprised by the change; and what I saw when I looked down first succeeded the paranoid half of the trip. Instead of a dick, all I could see when I looked beneath was a wet, muddy mangrove stalk, pulsating wildly and dribbling at the end. The floor was all mud now. That was all I could see from wall to wall, my mangrove stalk throbbed and gibbered. The mud bubbled and spluttered.
I sat there, like a tree submerged in the water for I don't know how long. I knew that all joy had fled, but still there was something darker that permeated everything. I remember my black hand, behind like tree roots that wound down into the earth. Thumb was like the night sky. The pain was mere being. There was a laptop on the dressing table. I stared at it for half an hour at least. The light of the screen, wavy digital lines warped by my viewpoint. There was a meaning I couldn't grasp. The plant thing stumbled back into the room now. Wet branches for legs, it rustled with leaves, slinking like a dragging branch. The plant lady straddled me, rubbing itself over my trunk. I don't remember how I got home. I know that I lay in bed for hours before the trip subsided. I know that the peak terror came traversing the dark path from Pheobe's house to mine. I still can't think over it clearly as I lay here in bed. Was any of it real?
Pheobe and I have continued casual encounters. I may be mildly addicted to heroin. I've spent a great deal of time with Norah and David, we are becoming good friends, though the whole group's foundations appear to be built upon quicksand, in some ways we are all tip-toeing around glass, aware of some inevitable looming catastrophe in our self funded addictions. I believe David and Pheobe may have had previous sexual relations. There is a tension there, although I sense that their passion was extinguished some time ago. We've had some intense and deep conversations as a group ; about the meaning of life, the nature of reality, love, existentialism and death. I see something in David that I failed to recognise in myself previously, now I can't help but sense it constantly. He is looking for something, the same thing I've always been seeking myself, some grand join the dots; a map of information to collate the puzzle pieces of history, philosophy, science, psychology, art, knowledge, the world and the self ; somehow unite it all under a colossal shadow. To recognise a faceless demon of truth who haunts the living with its indescribable yet terrible form. Something... something...
More abrasive run-ins with the locals. There is a constant threatening air amidst their kin; only mildly masked by passive aggressive mockery. David and Pheobe have given me deeper information about the local fraternities but that puzzle may have to wait till later. Pheobe told me the truth about how she got her 'birthmark'; I don't know if I'm ready to share that information yet either.
My agent called me last Wednesday. That was an odd conversation. I only met Jaycen Briars once, but he seemed like a nice gentleman. Jaycen was the artist who was supposed to be working on the tarot project. It would have been, if successful, referred to as the Briars/VanDeBerg deck I suppose. I can't pretend I wasn't shocked when Vicki told me that Briars had shot himself in his home; and wouldn't be working on the project anymore, I didn't know the man well enough to be devastated, but it certainly had an effect on me. Jaycen and I had brief conversations online via snap chat. I'll probably miss his funeral, which is a shame. It's a tragic waste of a rare talent. I hope there is nothing correct in my suspicious nature which wants to see something more in this tragic event than a horrid, but accidental, waste of life.
It seemed to pass very quickly and conveniently that Davo would subsume the role of artist. Actually it had partially been my idea. The agent thoroughly embraced it. David has also jumped at the opportunity. He was already painting large images of the tarot cards on the walls of the old hospital-- last I left him --on Monday. His picture of 'The unlucky bushman' is quite haunting, taking all the qualities of the rider Waite 'fool' card and adding some unique Australian menace, he perfectly captured the crackled bushland, in that arid cruelty, something akin to Sydney Nolan's outback and drought series. Weeks in the library have gotten me no closer to revelation. Chelsea has curiously not been working, her replacement is a sullen old man who never says a word, and watches me with his squinty eyes; through cloudy spectacles. I dare say I have grown extremely paranoid.
I never leave the house without taking Gubbel's shotgun from the wall above the fireplace. I've taken to hiding ammunition in random places; my bag, the car. I took the gun out just last Tuesday, determined to see more of the sacred indigenous sites. I have already seen 'The crown of the shadow King' and a great many other remarkable artworks in the surrounding caves. The usual congregation of hard boiled men collect themselves up town. They stare at my car, going to and from the sacred places, of course. I've taken to clutching the old double barrel, even as I wander around the sun damaged bushland near the cave sites. Sometimes I sense men tracking me. I have seen men with suits and fedoras congregating at odd locations during my walks. Often I've cocked my gun, pointed it nervously, as the sound of twigs breaking under hard shoes pursues me. The paths to and from the cave sites are almost always second rate, overgrown, and clearly neglected by men for some time. I've often had to bushwhack through hard scrub, sometimes hacking my way through miles of dry wood, in the surrounding fields of ash grey, burnt out banksia trees, the crackling fingers snap off at the touch. Surreal towers of rounded red stone, mark the indigenous defensive spiritual barrier towers. There appears to be a parasite or virus affecting the gum trees on the northern end of town. Most are ridden with a thick purple moss, the insides often festering, mulched leaves rotting in piles upon the dirt. I have also had to endure chastisement from stinging nettles, and heavy set briars which pierce through the flimsy material of my pants.
The rewards have been supple. The sacred art suggests an intricate paranoia to the Warriwul not usually allowed 'primitive' societies. The painterly mathematical diagrams at different locations around the valley form a complex equation about the slow degradation of the Warriwul way of life. It's almost as if they saw the downfall of their culture before it happened, and though they knew the presence of white man marked their extinction; their calculations are much more aligned with the terror of whatever spiritual threat they perceive as occupying or emanating from the mangroves. Most disturbing.
More disturbing still, was today as I was wandering down the trail between the library and Aviary paddock; I had been petrified by a gun shot. Diving onto the lumpy, gum-nut covered dirt and clutching the shotgun, I couldn't see a damned thing through the walls of twisting bushland on either side of me. I know the gunshot had been fired nearby; above my head from the sound of it. I don't think the shot had been fired at me, but I do believe it had been intended to threaten me. It had been my object to explore Oper Bodie and Murro vale sometime in the coming week, and the morning gunshot had been enough to fast track the idea.
I returned home to get the car. Pheobe was there on my verandah with Norah, getting high, I didn't tell them about the gunshot; staving off chit chat, and explaining my intention to travel to Murro Vale. No, I didn't want Pheobe to come, I told her, it would be too distracting to my important work.
An odd feeling returned to me as I drove uptown. Ever since the fateful tarot reading with Pheobe; the night before we first made love, I have been afraid of Pheobe's curious over intellectualisation of the cards. Her predictions of her lovers downfall, a fateful meeting at Serpentine Road, and some mystery at Barry's Gateway ; all had me over analysing everything. Was I the lover who had been foretold of in Phoebe's cards? Had I predicted my own doom? Serpentine road was the only way in and out of Town, and knowing I had to traverse it to get to Murro Vale ...had already made me cautious to go. What if this grave foretold meeting ...came true?
As usual, the townsmen were all gathered around the shops on Prime Street. Today they had seemed particularly testosterone fueled. With their backs to the street, they were mobbing raucously around the doctors surgery for some reason, obviously clammering to look at something inside. I could hear Bruce laughing boisterously from within. Keen to get out of this suffocating town for a few hours, yet highly curious as to what the men were doing, I cautiously slowed down my car to suss out the brouhaha. I had never paid attention to the surgery previously and now found myself analysing the strange building, with its archaic blue communist-style logo, and deco trimmings. There was an old style sign near the side alley which read; 'Cameron Bane and A. Tasman.' Who I suppose were the town surgeons. But then, to my utter perplexity I observed their specialist titles beneath - 'bio-sculptor' ; 'skin resurfacer'.. Now... What on earth was a bio-sculptor? And why would a small town like this need anyone remotely aligned with that profession?
Two of the men had noticed me now, and turned to face the car, walking towards me. I was tempted to drive off but didn't want to draw excess attention to myself. I recognised the men, they were men I had been aquainted with in the last couple of weeks. One was Clancy Digston, he was a hired muscle man from out of town, I believe he worked for Banjo, (the town figurehead). The other was Gazza AKA ‘mudslide’. The other men apparently referred to Gary as 'mudslide' because he comes from Murro-vale, and near ties to an aboriginal lineage 'through a rape'. 'Hello Flynn,' said Digston threateningly, 'Come to hang around some real men 'av ya? Sick of your dead beat junkie mates already? It's the dogsballs isn't it, being a no good nick, eh?' 'You better get out of this town VanDeBerg if you know what's good for you. ' Gazza re-affirmed like a ten dollar lackey. 'Even mudslide wants you gone you old coon. What do you think of that?' 'I'm already on my way,' I said firmly, '...off to Murro Vale. Sightseeing'. 'Snoopin' around again? You've got some nose on ya mate. Be careful where you go stickin' your nose into around here. We don't want no snoop Dogg in these parts. Here me matey-o? That's the sort of mutt --ought to be send straight to the pound. Ya git me? Now. Piss off ya dog.'
A feeling of loathing burrowed into me as I slowly drove away, as Digston came at me with a few more slurs of encouragement, his face red with hatred; yelling at the carboot. The winding bends of Serpentine road were not as ominous as I feared. At least they were clear of human life, dumb cows in fields; anything seemed soothing after you were out of the presence of those rednecks up town. It wasn't a long drive into Murrovale, and it occurred to me I really had no plan of where to visit. There weren't many sacred sites in Murro Vale, and I wandered if my reason to explore wasn't entirely based on getting out of Bishop's Valley for a day. As I drove into town, those familiar dull factories and industrial warehouses came into view. It wasn't as ugly as the first time I viewed it. With the big purple mountain behind it...It was difficult for the scene to be made completely ugly. Even with all the wasteland of industrial ambition.
The town seemed busier than last time I had driven through it, the hustle and bustle of rusted country cars surrounded. The men who peered from car windows looked no less sinister than the brawny men who hung around Bishop's Valley shops all day.
In my rear view mirror I received another uneasy jolt. I recognised the car behind me. It was the grey Nissan Pulsar that had been parked at the library two weeks ago. It was definitely the same car, I remembered the licence number; TYZ 999. What was the car doing out here in Murro Vale? Was somebody following me? I couldn't get a clear image of the driver. He had scrappy brown hair, maybe a hair-piece, and he was wearing dark sunglasses.
He was trailing me at a distance, moving out of sight whenever I slowed or parked. I wanted to get out of sight for a while, see if the man in the pulsar would give up, so I stopped at a public observation area. There was a steep incline through a bush path which led up to the observation green. Some kind of viewing spot. I figured if I blew some time here the guy in the car might lose interest in my tourist activities. Quickly I staggered along the trail, a pile of twisted broken wood, a dead tree, a pagan essence following me up, I stopped on the flat, overgrown grass, out of breath. I hadn't expected anything eventful to occur up the hill, however, the view point gave an excellent vantage to see Murro Vale. A sprawl of tin roofs, brick houses and smoking factory chimney's ; lay over the horizon like an oversized industrial cemetery. But my eye was drawn particularly to one area of interest in the bushland beside a nearby factory.
There was a procession of men engaged in apparently sinister activity. About twenty men in suits, labouring in a way their attire didn't necessitate. They were moving some type of goods, dragging heavy sacks from one place to another, loading the giant brown mesh bags into a commercial truck whilst others looked on and directed. There was a large hall nearby their location, I could tell by its architecture it was a niche hall, not a corporate place. Some of the men were leaving the lodge, whilst others loaded the trucks. For some reason I resolved to investigate, sliding carefully down the grassy hill, being careful to stay behind the bushes, out of sight. I think I could just make out what the men had been loading into the bags, because there was a mound of something not quite right to the far side of the grass clearing. From the looks of things, the men were cleaning up from an event which had occurred earlier. Clambering over the shrubbery, I continued my descent to comprehend the strange scene.
I had to tread carefully. Since I'd been taking the junk, I'd noticed some odd side effects. I'd never hallucinated sober, but I had starting getting a hazy, purple discolouration to my vision sometimes of late. Occasionally my eyes blurred, and I couldn't see well. I still couldn't tell what the light brown mound was. The men carrying bags had all but left now, and one of the big trucks had started up its engine. Something convinced me it was safe to enter the open field. Bile rose in my throat as I realised what the pile of fresh bodies was, of the same matter as those dangling slabs of meat nailed to the trees. Massacred kangaroos. I'd hopefully assumed some sort of butchery for consumption, but the dressing of the men, and the way they loaded the carcasses in brown bags into trucks. Something was not at all right in this arrangement. I quickly scaled the walls of the hall, in case the men returned to retrieve more kangaroo corpses. I wonder where the trucks were taking the corpses? I could hear male voices talking now; but one of the trucks was definitely departing along the road, out front. Slowly moving along the other side of the building, I tried to examine what the strange hall was.
The building had an almost religious quality. Like a modern Protestant church in its functionality, but with more trimmings. Almost an air of Scientology about it. Ominous closure of a kind was brought when I noticed the strange symbol of a chess bishop upon the balustrade. The same one imprinted on the old library book I had borrowed.
Moving stealthily like a jaded private investigator, I made my way further around the side of the lodge; hoping to find some more useful clues as to the buildings purpose. There was a partition of the building, which extended out, upon which was an open window. Maintaining a low altitude I strafed along the wall until I could get a narrow view inside. Slowly raising my head, I found myself looking into a room, empty of people ; lights off. In the darkness, I could only vaguely deduce the shapes of a filing cabinet, a safe, and metal shelves. The voices out the front of the building made me hesitant to break and enter, but with a little optimism, I noticed a bound leather folio on the table just below the window. With a small bit of flexibility and cunning, I was sure I could reach it through the opening. Red in the face from flexing muscles; on tip toes, my arm stretched as far is it could, the hard wooden frame dug into my under arm, but successfully I grasped the book and retrieved it.
I fled, hurriedly, back into thick foliage, paranoid I might be seen. Not stoping to read the book, I concealed it beneath my coat, then with wilderness cunning; I hurriedly ascended the hill I had come down, maintaining in the shadows of the shrubbery, scarpering to return to the viewing plateau. Top of the hill. Scanning the horizon, and convinced I had gotten away with my theft, I returned to the path that led back down to my car.
At the bottom. I couldn't see the man in the grey Nissan Pulsar, and eager to keep it that way, I placed the book on the passenger seat of my car and engaged the throttle. Within a minute I was back on the road, uncertain of my destination, heart beating in my chest from the thrill of my crime, but moreover from the brash red iconography that stared up at me. There it was again. shining blasphemously; the all too familiar, 'red seal'. On the cover of the book.
I knew i had to pull over and browse the book somewhere. But no sheltered parking spot seemed to reach out. I drove in through the industrial end of Murro Vale, until I reached a quiet street, with an odd assortment of run down shops. There was an out of the way parking spot, behind a tall, twisting blue-gum. Turning the ignition key off, I immediately grabbed the leather journal and flipped through it. It was another odd corporate record of some kind. For the most part it was nothing more than a list of names and numbers, my lungs collapsed in a disappointed exhalation of warm air. Flipping from page to page, I was daunted by the mundane cryptically vacant notes. Then I stopped and shuddered. I recognised some of these names. There! J. Briars. What was Jaycen doing listed in this curious account keeping book? I searched the listing under his name. 'Termination of employment'. Then another! P. Rimbaud. That was Pheobe's name. There was a tick next to her name under the title 'Bishop's Head'. N. James. D. Arnesto. That could be Pheobe and David! C. Hersch. I'll bet a million dollars that's Chelsea, the librarian. She said herself she was employed by an agency named RedSealRecruit, though I only just now made the correlation. I wondered how the 'Red Seal' corporation were linked to Blacklab, my publisher. My name was in the book too. 'F. VanDeBerg. Scheduled for Relocation.'
This had given me much to think about. Hiding the book in my glove box, I exited the vehicle, choosing to browse the quaint old antique store opposite; to give my brain space to think, and to keep looking natural, just in case I was still being observed. The shop was called 'Alderman's little junk shop', in the window were various vintage anomalies; a giant polyester statue of 'Blinky Bill' the classic Australian cartoon koala, A cardboard cut out of Ned Kelly (legendary Austrslian bush ranger). An array of vintage police rifles. Unavoidably, my eyes scanned, counting them. Four. Eight. Nine. There were nine rifles.
My thoughts were racing as I entered the store. Primarily in regards to what Pheobe had told me about how she had gotten the mark on her neck. All the input of my senses suggested that there was something sinister happening, orchestrated by this red seal company. But what?
Rows of colonial pottery, jolly men's faces with pink noses, governor's hats and whiskey bottles in hand. Then there were Asian and Pacific Islander masks, Tikki and tribal sculptures. Some authentic indigenous spears. None of this did anything to sedate my fears, or provide me answers.
I started to feel altogether queasy. Claustrophobic in Murrovale, my resolve was to quickly drive up the ridge and scope out Oper Bodie before sunset.
The owner of the antique store scowled menacingly as I left through the strings of hanging beads, a ringing bell marking my exit. But before long I was back out on the road, leaving the putrid pollution and slums of Murrovale, and winding back into the stark country road North Westwards, into the humble mining town. The view towards Oper Bodie was altogether beautiful, rich bushland skirting the lower half of the other ranges of the valley. Blue's and purples and reds collected in a moving impressionist painting as the sun slowly rested its head against the mountain, ready for sleep.
I'm ashamed to admit, but certain urges had begun to take afternoon liberties with me, right now I was stinging for relief. For a fix. As I scanned the tattered map on the passenger seat beside me, looking for a more uninhabited region of Oper Bodie to take a quick pit stop, one particular landmark stood out to me, impressed upon my brain; 'Barry's Gateway.' It was only five minutes down the road from where I was, and before I knew it -- I'd arrived at the remarkable bushland reserve; lush native banksia trees furtively lined the outskirts of the park. Further up on the hillside, the quaint rooftops of residential properties were observable, but there was no sign of life in Barry's Gateway except for the old Barn on the far side of the park. I looked nervously around, to make sure I was alone, then untying the ribbon on the black velvet purse, I removed the syringe and a small saddie. It's amazing how quickly habit becomes second nature, before long I had a lighter burning under a used stainless steel spoon. The tension of the strap was jubilation. I felt my heart accelerate as the point of the needle pierced my vein. Then, my memory fogs somewhat.
There was the part where I stumbled out of the car to look at the sunset. Orgasm running through my blood, and heat in my pink cheeks, I'm quite sure I stood on the grass at The gateway for a long time. The hallucinations had come to me again in droves. They were positive at first. It was almost like a 70's musical, in the pastel colours of the sunset, I'd envisioned thousands of naked, dancing bodies. Life celebrating itself, dancing in an orange heaven; happy memories waltzed around in the refracting light whilst I'm quite sure ; 'Let the sunshine in' had begun to play on invisible loud speakers inside my ears. But as the coloured disk of daylight had actively fell behind the mountain, as heat dissipated and night stretched out it's arms... Panic and sorrow returned to me.
I felt that sensation again, of joy slowly draining away with the night sky. I began to think too much, the story of the massacre at Barry's gateway began to occupy my thoughts. The slaughter of the indigenous population here was horrible enough, but there was something about the murder of 2000 convicts by the gentry of Bishop's Valley that disturbed me even more. Racism could at least be negated to bigotry, ignorance, scape goating. But who were these men ; who so loathed humanity, race, class, gender ; meant nothing to them. These men scared me more than all others. Men who were colourblind, yet homocidal, psychopathic, having no empathy, yet desiring power, dominion over other men.
I think I fell asleep on the grass. Merging with paranoid dreams of flowing interconnected serpents of nature, art nouveau tentacles stretching through everything, life and nature, a patchwork quilt of an unknown yet sinister design.
I believe I reached some sort of spiritual endarkenment, out there on the grass at Barry's gateway, Oper Bodie. Gazing up at the stars. My consciousness became one with the valley. I became Bishop's head.
All the time, I felt the ego conflict with tomorrow, as though the place itself wanted to erase my new memories, so it could awake to some purer daylight tomorrow morning. In the car, a procession of hallucinations followed me home. Flying along beside the car. It was as though invisible alien life forms had always been occupying dimensional spaces beside me, but only now had I been able to grasp their function in the ecosystem of time, weaving destiny, inhabiting separate dimensions like reality amphibians. The strange orbs, with skin textured like testacles, may have been the ones digging those holes, I thought, insanely. Their spindly appendages seemed well acquainted to cutting and digging.
Eventually I accepted that nothing was actually there outside the car, as I sobered up and arrived home. The hallucinations had abated but my troubled mind had not.
I've been laying in bed for hours now, unable to sleep or calm my racing thoughts. I need to know what happened to the Honi line of bishops and to what extent the Gubbel men were involved. There must be some explanation, some link between the red seal company and the replacement of local figureheads. I can still hear the trucks, driving in and out of town, and parking down on the Southern boat ramp. I know what they are doing. I know that they are dumping that kangaroo meat down on the mangroves, but I still can't understand why.
The answers are in Gubbel's basement. They must be. Tomorrow I'll have the answers.
Audiobook available here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVWQ8g_1tSw&feature=youtu.be
Chapter Five - https://www.reddit.com/libraryofshadows/comments/6j0e0t/the_mangroves_of_bishops_valley_part_five_of_six/

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