Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, gather 'round if you will for what I hope will be a fairly enchanting, enticing and overall entertaining tale.
Seriously now...to be honest, I don't expect this story to be that much of a success, especially considering the fact that it will be the first ever written and posted by me on the Bbs forum.
However, what I want almost as much as success (but not quite ;) ), is some good ol' criticism. I'll need it, folks, if I'm ever going to get any better at this. I'm asking you to tell me when and where I may have screwed up, along the way. Messed up sentence here, unessassary gory-scene there...whatever you guys think is too much or too little, just talk to me about it.
Now, before starting this whole thread off, I'd like to take a wee moment to thank that handful of nice, gentle people that agreed to be a part of this story. I also apologize beforehand to a few of you, since...well, not all of you are going to be getting out of this tale in one piece :D
And now...the story begins.
"City of the Dead: a Bbs story"
(part one)
Introduction:
Date: 14th of April, 2009
Location: Anchorage, Alaska
Hey bro. Missed me much? I'll bet you'll be a tad surprised to know that I'm still alive and kickin', huh. Truth is, I doubt I'll manage to stick around for long...I'm guessing I've plum run out of luck by now, no matter how many friggin' lucky stars I may have been born under. Anyhow, what's in this notebook should answer all of your questions, regarding my considerable absence, and above all it should clear up the doubts and questions you must have about why I haven't even been able to so much as contact you, over the past few months.
You've probably heard of the catastrophe that struck the Eternal City about half a year ago…the one that devastated the Colosseum. The one that set the outskirts of the southern residential area ablaze. The one that actually took the lives of over half a million people, that almost crippled the entire country because of the economical back-lash of the whole mess.
The one that, surprisingly, no one really knows jack-shit about.
Some people around the globe, when speaking of the mysterious shortage of details concerning the supposed bio-chemical terrorist assaut on Rome, have called the lack of news "shocking" and "nearly unbelievable". Others, a little more bold than the rest, have gone so far as to refer to the ordeal as "an extremely suspicious affair, that should be looked into by the authorities". The wiser ones amongst the world’s populace, however, simply keep their mouths shut and never speak a word about the whole matter altogether.
And that's because they're probably wise enough to know that, with a little skill and determination, by using unconventional methods of research, one would be able to discover a very, very nasty truth concerning the mind-numbing catastrophe: anyone, and I mean anyone that has ever seemed to divulge their knowledge of the tragedy that devastated Rome has just...disappeared, over the past 6 months. "Desaparecidos". Gone without a damned trace, as if they'd never walked the face of the Earth.
With one exception, of course; the media, from time to time, have thrown a few bones to the public: a picture of a few dead bodies here, a column about the merciless methods used by the terrorists there. But still, nothing that actually explains the whole deal. Not by a long shot.
But, as you know, most people around the world have (sadly) actually gotten used to such news about wars overseas and terrorist blowing themselves up, and so on and so forth. And the members of the rest of the populace that aren't that emotionally numb, as you may have guessed, are just smart enough to avoid digging any further into the matter.
But what you've got in your hands, big bro, is a freaking diary containing hard, cold facts about what really went down in the Heart of the Catholic Church. I can already see the look on your face...you're probably a tad skeptical about all this at this point. It isn't everyday that your brother reveals a terrible truth to you, such as the explanation of a world-wide conspiracy, or the terrible answer to a fucking enigma. But to prove that I'm not absolutely insane, that this isn't a book of memoirs of a lunatic, just check the video that I’ve sent to you, along with this notebook.
…you might want to sit down and take a few deep breaths before watching it, though. And make sure the kids are asleep...better yet, send 'em to Mom's house for the night.
And above all, for your own safety, do NOT share the contents of this notebook with anyone (and I mean ANYONE, Danny) except for close friends and family. If the wrong people get wind of this diary being in your hands, something terrible will happen...
...all I know is that, for all intents and purposes, you'll just vanish into thin air, leaving nothing behind you. And I don't want to see that happen to you.
I doubt we'll ever meet again, bro. You see, I can't let you get involved in this. We’ve had our differences and perhaps a bit more than our fair share of sibling rivalry, sure…but hell, you’re still my brother, and I still care about you. I can’t let anything happen to you, or to your new family.
But the fact remains: you've got to know. SOMEONE needs to know.
Someone needs to know the truth.
Chapter One: The beginning of the end
10:00 a.m. , 23rd of March, year 2008. Downtown Rome
"...thank god for these freaking cappuccino's, I say."
A tired, grumpy Scotsman quietly sipped at his steaming hot morning coffee one warm spring morning, searching in the meantime throughout the living room of the small rented apartment for the remote to the TV. Unsuccessful, he decided to just sit himself down on the small couch near the balcony and enjoy the view instead.
Which was when he sat down on the remote, and accidentally turned on the TV. He simply shrugged.
"Eh, it’s all good".
Truth be told, he didn't understand a word of Italian, nor did he care to learn any of it. The vacation he was on was tiresome enough, what with his bride-to-be dragging him around the city half the time to go sight-seeing (and the other half of the time...well, they did what young, passionate lovers do, which was absolutely fine with him). It was all that boring tourist crap that bothered him...he was sure that no bloke alive actually wanted to check out the remains of Saint Bartholomew's front teeth, or get serious neck-cramps from staring at ceiling-paintings for hours on end. But that's what his little lady was into, and what she wanted, she got. For the life of him, he just couldn't say "no" to her. It was one of the reasons he wanted to marry her.
But even though he didn't understand the common language that the Romans spoke, he still felt like watching some good ol' common Roman TV. He needed a rest, and sitting down in front of the 'tube essentially let him rest his mind up as much as possible while he was awake...at least, until his fiancèe woke up too.
He pulled the remote out from under his backside, and started flicking aimlessly through channels.
"Nothing, nada, zip, nu-uh, nope..."
He kept going on and on, simply more interested in sipping away at what remained of his coffee than he was in searching for something good to watch, until he hit the news channel. What stopped him from going on to the next program was the way the reporter was acting…she seemed to be yelling at the top of her voice. Gunshots could be heard in the background.
He sat up straighter, raised the volume, and (regardless of his ignorance of the language) tried to get the gist of what was being said.
(end of part one)
