Z2012SITEADMIRALTAIL



November 15, 1996  “Psychopathic liars, that’s what they are,” said the voice in my head. It was a deep gravelly voice that reminded me vaguely of Morgan Freeman.  “The doctors are going to kill you.” This was not the first time I had heard Morgan’s voice, as I had taken to call him, usually he spoke to me when I was about to take my medicine, begging me not to take it. Or he spoke to me on exercise hour, the one hour we are allowed to go outside each day.  When I told the nurses about Morgan they looked alarmed and not at all passionate. I was diagnosed with __#|schizophrenia__ and mild paranoia and forced to take Clozaril, the latest __#|schizophrenia__ drug. I tried to tell them that I wasn’t paranoid, Morgan was. When I took my medicine the voice would fade and disappear all together, until about 8 hours later when the drugs wore off, then Morgan always came back. Morgan always spoke encouraging words in my mind, reminding me of the world outside, telling me the latest news, and begging me not to take my medicine.  Because of my yellow eyes I was classified as “infected”; the nurses injected different medicines and doctors did unexplainable experiments on me, trying to slow down or stop the bacteria. This new infection of unknown bacteria was known as “The Event.”  November 15, 1996  Sitting in an old white van sat two men, one operating an out of __#|date__ radio signal transmitter, the other was at a microphone speaking slowly and calmly, “Do not take the medications, do not take the medications, hide it under your pillow.” Slowly the signal faded.  “Damnit, Dave he took the medicine again” said the frustrated Mark as he ripped off the speaker headphones he had been using to hear his projection through William’s ears.  November 15, 1996  I sighed in relief as I began to hear Morgan’s voice fading in the background. It was difficult being crazy. You have to act like there isn’t another voice in your head when you’re talking to people that is insulting them, egging you on until you’re in an uncontrollable rage. When I get like that, 5 nurses usually come in and put restraints on me. Then they take out their clipboards and document the reactions I am going through like I am some science experiment, not a human being.  Or at least that’s what Morgan tells me to think; he says thinking like that will help me escape in the near future. I really hate it in here, the monotone white walls and florescent lights discolor all truly beautiful things like the blue sky outside or the morning flowers that always appear on my __#|bed side table__ every morning. The colors are too bright almost as if they had been dyed with __#|food coloring__ and then placed on my bedside table. The late night screaming is the worst though; you can hear it all through the night, people being taken off for surgery or extermination. But that’s only in ward C and I’m in ward A, so I’m okay.  December 1, 1996  The opaque box arrived in my room last night; I don’t know what it is…  I tried talking to Morgan last night, he told me to not tell the nurses about him anymore and I asked him, “Why?” He didn’t answer I think he gets angry at me when I don’t do what he says, sometimes he yells at me and makes me cry; my mom always told me to stand up to my bullies, that’s why I became what I became, Admiral of the United States Navy so no one could bully me. But is it different when the bully is inside your head?  “I sent the box to him” said Dave, “he should have received it this morning.”  “Good” said Mark, “that should give him a more effective way to communicate with us.” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The box is staring at me, I really want to open it, but I’m scared of what will happen. I’ve started having dreams about the box, everywhere I go the box is there. The doctors say I’ve developed a felling of paranoia and give me medicine for it, but I don’t take it. It doesn’t help that Morgan keeps telling me to open the box. When he yells at me I often take one of the pills I’ve been hiding because he tells me to, just so he will go away. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Why isn’t he opening the box? The one damn thing we ask for him to do and he won’t open it.” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Woah, calm down Mark; the box isn’t crucial to what we need for him to do, we’ll just find another way” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Last night in bed while I was thinking about the box, I remembered the story of Pandora. Pandora was allegedly the first woman, who was made out of clay, and created by the gods. Each god gifted the woman with a gift and then gifted her with a box and told her not to open it. Pandora opened the box out of pure curiosity and released the horrors of mankind on the world leaving only hope in the box before she closed it. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The story made me think of whom the box was sent by, some worldly being? Was it meant to test me? So I have decided not to open the box, I believe the box is the deciding factor on whether I get out safely or not. The box contains my one hope. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> December 11, 1996 <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Man I don’t think he’s going to open the box,” said the exasperated Mark. Hours were spent developing their plans of torture for the admiral and after all of their time and effort to have him ignore their gifts were frustrating. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Me either” replied Dave. <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">June 16, 1993 <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">10 P.M <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The seas sparkled and gleamed with the gift of sunlight glancing off its bright and unruly surface. The wind was at 30 naught and the sun was rapidly descending leaving a sharp cool wind that bounced off the deck of the ship. Dave Kimawski stood watching the land slowly fade off the line of the horizon. Once he was satisfied with the sight of the land slipping away, he returned below deck to the radio controls. One man sat in the next seat over from Dave, Mark Lauden, after turning from the radio controls said, “Lookin’ good up there, boss?” Laughing softly at the old routine, Dave replied, “Always a good day for the open sea, probe.” The two settled into their jobs side by side as the sun slipped away under the horizon and they pulled out of Landsbury Naval Base. <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">December 13, 1996 <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">Dave <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The cool December air brushed my face, leaving a cool residue of Charleston air resting on my cheeks. The house staring at me was a log cabin built by hand. Three tiny pairs of eyes were peeking through the curtains in the front windows. Stepping out of my car, I heard shouts in the house, “Mooomm, Uncle Dave is here.” Stepping up to the front porch the door opened before me and two children ran out, Maria, 4 years old, hugged my legs, as I swept up young Shelby into my arms. James Jr. sat just on the inside of the doorway, the man of the house at just 12. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “How are you taking care big man?” I asked, “Are you taking care of the family alright?” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Yes, sir” he replied “I’m just trying to make my dad proud. That’s the one thing I could and wouldn’t ever forgive Admiral Tail for, yes he was selfish, to take the lifeboat was one thing, but for taking their dad away from these children is unforgivable. That’s why I vowed I would never cease in getting revenge, that’s why I vowed that I would make the man who made a 12 year old the man of the house, who left two little girls without a father, Admiral Tail will pay.

<span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">December 15, 1996 <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">June 17, 1993 <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">2 A.M.   <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">June 17, 1993  <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">4 A.M.  <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">* <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; line-height: 24px; text-align: center;">**January 1, 1997** <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Sometimes I like to think back to my life before I arrived in the ward A; it’s hard because of all of the medications they give me but I try my best. Before my ship sank we were heading out of Landsbury Naval Base, there had always been rumors surrounding the naval base, like ships heading out and never being seen again. That’s what I thought they were, rumors, I didn’t believe there was actual truth to them. Of course all sailors and navy men have their own superstitions like when you leave your equipment, you’re supposed to leave a tiny green plastic soldier there to keep it from getting damaged. Sailors operate off of dozens of superstitions a day just to keep themselves sane, but I had no idea that the superstitions surrounding Landsbury Naval Base and Old Tom Long Legs were real, I really had no idea. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I’m starting to remember what I did, the horrible crime I committed against my crew mates, as Admiral of the United States Navy, I should have given up my life with and for my crew members, maybe I deserve to be here. <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">June 17, 1993 <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">4:30 AM <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Admiral Tail, we’re sinking fast. All lifeboats are deemed unfit and all equipment is failing. What is the next order of business Admiral?” asked Jimmy Hansen, the first mate and second in command of the ship. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Follow all standard rules and regulations tell all men to get their life jackets on and report to the upper deck.” replied Admiral Tail. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Yes sir,” said Jimmy and running off to retell the orders to the rest of the crew. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> After Jimmy was well out of sight, Admiral Tail sprang into action, removing his bunk with a softened crash. Under his mattress and bunk were two large boxes. Opening one the Admiral pulled out a life jacket as well as survival supplies, in the other he pulled out a large plastic blow up lifeboat that could easily fit 10 men without sinking. The Admiral quickly went to the air pressure valve and allowed the pump to inflate his life boat partially and with that pushed through the now empty halls to the empty lower deck. There he lowered his lifeboat into the water through a pulley system looking over his shoulder the whole time, making sure no one would see his getaway. After successfully entering his lifeboat into the water the Admiral himself jumped the several tens of feet it took him to land in the dark ocean water. With that the Admiral pulled himself up into his private boat and started rowing away from the rapidly sinking ship. <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">* <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">January 10, 1997 <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">Admiral Tail <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The morning of June 17th still haunts me to this day, I dream of the voices my men screamed when the sharks attacked them, me just only managing to get away from the shark infested waters with my life boat. I’ve started having the same reoccurring nightmare of that morning and the nurses are concerned that it has something to do with the fact that I have not been taking my medicine. They have started talking in whispers around me, I’m afraid something big is about to happen but they just aren’t telling me. Morgan hasn’t talked to me in a long time, I think he’s gone away; that’s good isn’t it? <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The nurses found the stash of medications under my mattress, so they’ve given up on pills and now they either inject it straight into my bloodstream, or they give me an IV. I also think they increased my dosage of medications because most of the time I can’t really do anything but look at the walls, my limbs are tired and my brain feels like it can’t think. When this happens I mostly sleep and try to forget. <span style="display: block; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;">January 16, 1997 <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Two men walk into the infirmary on the Charleston Naval Base. They are both medium build with strong chins and brown hair, one has blue eyes, and one had brown eyes. They make their way to the nurse’s station quickly and quietly, as if from experience. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “We are here to see an Admiral Tail, please ma’am” said one of the men to the nurse at the station. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “I’m afraid Admiral Tail has just been moved to ward C, sir and there are no visitors in ward C.” replied the kind, but stern nurse. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> With that the two men walked out of the infirmary together into the sunlight shining down upon the cool January day.
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The nurses returned today with a present for me, it’s a new kind of tape recorder, so instead of writing my words I can tape them. Dr. Raven came in to see me today telling me it was time of my evaluation. An evaluation is where a doctor comes and starts asking questions and takes blood work. I know what their trying to do, they’re trying to diagnose me as crazy, and who knows I might be with Morgan in my head, but last night I started remembering things I hadn’t remembered in a while. I started remembering things, I don’t think they tell us our names or title because they want to see if we can remember them on our own, or maybe they don’t want to feel threatened. I also remembered the reason why I was here, my ship, as it was pulling out of Landsbury Port, sunk and I was the only survivor. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The alarm went off suddenly jarring awake the off duty crew members, they had all been through this before the bright red alarm scream was designed to penetrate people’s sleeping minds as swiftly as possible. Mark had been asleep in his bunk and at the sound of the alarm awoke soundlessly and pulled on his uniform. Just another routine drill, thought Mark as he made his way to his designated drill post, one always happens at the beginning of a journey. The ship had been moving forth at a slow pace to warm up the engines and was about 20 miles off shore, moving against head winds. Before Mark reached his duty stations he realized there was something off, the air usually cool and dry because of the recycled air now had a salty, humid quality to it. With another start Mark recognized the energy around him as not being one of a uniform drill, looking into another man’s eyes he realized the look of panic that had settled in around him, what the hell happened, thought Mark as he pulled himself up into his duty station. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“You haven’t spoken to him in awhile Dave” said Mark, “don’t you think you ought to give him the old admiral’s wakeup?” The thought burned in his mind the blood red thought of hatred and the sharp green apple idea of envy. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I’ve been waiting, hoping he would settle down a little, not be so afraid of me” replied Dave with a smooth buttery lilt that reflected his southern hometown of Charleston, SC. The idea of the admiral being afraid brought forth the image, of the lifeboat the night of the sinking; with the sunlight yellow fear radiating from his body admiral denied access to the life boat and rowed away with the sight of the crew in his mind. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My nights have become nights filled with terror, my mornings the same. Between my dreams remembering events in my life, and the nurses new medicines they are giving me, I live my days with a constant fear. Now instead of being filled with fear at Morgan, all I want him to do is come back. It gets lonely in here, with no one but the nurses who come and go, so lonely that I’ve started to remember my wife and daughter. I’ve discovered that I cannot remember their faces and it startles me to think that I haven’t seen them since I shipped off on June 16th, the night before she sank. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The red, blinking alarms filled the corridor for a third time. The ship was rapidly filling with salty water as the crew went about their jobs in a quickly timely manner, they were securing all equipment and sending out the necessary SOS signals, but they were not getting anything back. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What the hell is wrong with our equipment? Why are we sending out the signals, but not getting any returns; we’re 20 kilometers away from port the Christ’s sake.” screamed Dave. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Mark rapidly started pounding out the telegraph machine, the outdated, rusted machine, not used since the 80’s. The machine light started blinking, confirming the fact that the signal was transmitting. Silently the two waited for a reply as the loud alarm continued ringing. They both knew the risks, they had both heard the stories of the old Landsbury naval base, the stories of the ships that left the port being cursed, but neither had been big on superstition. The stories ran through the men’s head as the alarm abruptly shut off and the ship was left with an eerie silence. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “The engine’s off,” yelled a voice in the corridor, “surprised it ran this long really. The ship was sabotaged, wires cut, gasoline compromised; get to the lifeboats.” **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “Well I guess that’s our cue, one last try and we’ll abandon ship.” said Dave. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Like the rest of the tries the men’s signal got no response. Hurriedly they followed the trail of bodies out into the corridor, where they realized the ship was listing toward port. The hot, humid air penetrated the corridors and left the men smelling of ripe sweat. Pushing their way out onto the deck the men looked around at the unorganized chaos. Men were unsuccessfully untying lifeboats, as the boat’s corridors filled with water the men got more and more frantic. Instead of untying the boats the men started using their knives as trying to saw through the incredibly thick and metallic rope. Slowly the thought deemed on the minds of the sailors of the ships, the engine was intentionally cut and the life boats were sabotaged, the rope being of the material that none of the men could cut through them with their knives. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> “We never had a chance,” said Mark to Dave, “whoever did this didn’t want any survivors.” **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;"> And to that Dave had no reply. **