The Bright Light of Cruel Judgment
The glow comes from somewhere – the walls are infused with it, maybe? He senses that he’s not in pain. Not hot. Not cold. He’s not tasting anything in his mouth. His eyes aren’t burning or unfocused.
He’s seated. On some kind of molded chair that he can feel around him.
There’s silence. Complete silence. It’s not unnerving – or disturbing. It’s serene. Like floating in water that’s your exact skin temperature.
He isn’t seeing with his eyes as much as he just knows.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here – wherever here is. He understands somewhere in his mind that he’s waiting.
He suddenly hears something. Someone is to his right. Then words.
“William Heinlen.”
He looks at who is speaking. He’s a man. Tall, well built – actually, muscular. His face shows no emotion. His tone – and manner – seems clinical. Like he’s reading from a medical chart.
The man is dressed oddly. A waist-belted robe, of sorts. High collared. Made of some kind of shimmering material that accents his fulsome build. Longish, wavy gray hair. His eyes are deep blue. He’s wearing boots that hug his calves.
“William Heinlen. You needn’t try to speak. I can hear whatever thoughts you wish to share…
I am Gabriel.
Your physical body is dying in a hospital.
You were asked by Simon Magus to continue his Mission on Earth. It appears that your tenure as a Hetman is in peril.
Do you know why he nominated you to fill his shoes? Why he believed you were the one to discharge such an awesome responsibility?
Please enlighten me.
Heinlen stares at the man – or Angelic apparition – or whatever it is. He knows that he must select his next words carefully.
“Simon Magus nominating me as his successor was as much a surprise to me as it was to everyone who knew him.
I am not a man of stellar character. I’ve done sinful things. Perhaps Simon Magus hoped this was my chance for redemption… a way to prove myself worthy of God’s Grace…
I have no special gifts – such as Simon’s ability to wield Magic as a weapon. I only have Simon’s consecrated SAEX. But I promise to use it wisely.
Please give me this chance to serve our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
Heinlen senses that time is passing by – but can’t grasp for how long. His disorientation is complete. He’s not in a place where time has meaning. He may not be in a place at all. Gabriel speaks again.
“You are a man of Faith. That is a good start.
But Simon appears to have selected you because of your lineage.
You are Varangian. Your father was a Scandinavian Dane. He was of the bloodline of Rurik. Your mother was of pure Russian blood.
You are Rus. Unfortunately, you have no other qualifications.
Prayer and reflection are necessary for you now. Retreat to the Monastery of Saint Panteleimon on Mt. Athos. There you will find answers. There you will find purpose.
Until we meet again…”
CLINIQUE de LAVOISIER
Lausanne, Switzerland
SURGICAL THEATRE #3
Dr. Alicia Brabenfeld, Chief of Neurosurgery
Dr. Marina Vorshilovka, Assisting Surgeon
Dr. Denton Allaire, Neurosurgeon
Dr. Cyrus Ashari, Chief Anesthesiologist
CONTEMPORANEOUS DICTATION OF CRANIOTOMY – PATIENT 097;
OPERATIVE RECORD AND DIGITAL VIDEO:
DR. ALICIA BRABENFELD:
“This is patient 097. His head has been duly shaved and secured into a Mayfield Clamp to immobilize it for the duration of the surgery. I contemporaneously report each step we take in the procedure. We are using a SIEMENS DRI software navigation system to coordinate MRI and CAT scan data to map our approach and guide our surgical intervention.
Scalp incision executed. Skin is peeled back from skull. Temporary staples are applied to hold skin flap in place pending closure. Outline of skull bone window dimensions is etched on to skull bone flap by the SIEMENS DRI laser-guided parametric guides.
Using Perforator Drill to cut Burr holes in the skull, preparatory to utilizing Craniotome bone saw to cut skull bone flap over blood clot area. Craniotome excavation is now opening the skull bone, proceeding from each Burr hole in trace pattern etched on skin by the MRI / CAT Scan mapping software.
Skull bone flap is now pried out of skull access window and placed in biostatic Betadine fluid suspension pending closure. DURA Matter membrane now revealed. We are visualizing an extremely distended clot – actually extruded – a blood bolus – an accumulation ready to burst just immediately below the DURA membrane.
Cutting the DURA Membrane – peeling it back to reveal the clot itself.
We are releasing the clot internal pressure at this time, sucking out blood – deflating it – so we can extract it and tie off its blood supply.
The time duration of patient’s blood pressure exertion against brain under the DURA appears to have been minimal, however, permanent COMA or long-term contralateral paralysis or brain herniation is still an open issue. Irrigation proceeding apace. I’m employing vigorous Lavage.
Visualizing now a slowly deflating clot sack on the parietal lobe of the brain. It appears to be external only and has not invaded or drained into the brain matter. Clamping off the clot completely now. I am carefully positioning a drain tube to continuously remove excess blood and fluids from parietal site post closure.
Dr. Vorshilovka has excised the drained clot sack and is cauterizing its blood supplies, assisted by Dr. Allaire. Copious Lavage is employed to cleanse the operative site and internal drain tube site in preparation for closure. No other clots are seen. Brain pulsations appear consistent with blood pressure monitoring. Betadine and topical antibiotic wash being employed to finalize cleaning of cauterization.
We are suturing the brain DURA back together over the operative site. Retrieving skull bone flap from biostatic prep – and now fitting same to precise dimensions of the MRI / CAT Navigation-mapped opening. Dr. Vorshilovka is drilling holes for titanium screws and plate bracketing – placing eight titanium screws and four brackets now – allowing for drain tube to extend from the wound through a small Burr hole cut into Bone flap border with the Perforator drill.
Scalp is being stretched back over operative site – we are applying staples to the scalp flap to hold it pending complete and final suturing around the dimension of the opening – taking particular care not to crimp the wound drain tube accessing the repaired blood clot site beneath the stitched DURA.
Drain tube is taped to head and neck of patient to receptacle at shoulder level. Thorough application of antibiotic ointment to suture site. Ringers Lactate Intravenous has been maintained throughout this Craniotomy procedure.
Patient status, Dr. Ashari?“
DR. CYRUS ASHARI:
“Patient is……. breathing steady, blood-oxygenation levels approaching acceptable. His carbon dioxide levels are mostly manageable. Patient’s blood pressure is stabilizing. Praise Allah. He’s not out of the woods – but the tree line is in sight.”
DR. VORSHILOVKA:
“Craniotomy completed. TIME of operative procedure – 7 hours, 22 minutes. Video is duly archived on CBES encryption system and RBS Archive, St. Petersburg, Russia.”
Chatsworth, NJ
Home of Floyd Beesom, 667 Tabernacle Road.
It’s cold at 3:00AM this time of year in the Pine Barrens. The wind whips up Reeds Branch of the Rancocas River and draws every bit of icy dampness out of the marshland surrounding it. The wind that smacks against the fungus-stained and rotted clapboard siding of Beesom’s house leaches completely through to the insides of his kitchen.
The structure is basically a hunting cabin that became – over about sixty years – adapted to people living in it year ’round. Electrical wiring is strung outside its cracked plaster walls and runs to an old-fashioned screw-in Fuse panel. The old glass fuses are almost impossible to buy anymore. Extension cords are strewn over the floors like long orange snakes. Its old paper-wrapped wiring shorted out and burned at least four times over the past ten years but Beesom can’t afford to upgrade the archaic 60 Amp system and just doubles-up plugs in every power outlet.
Floyd Beesom lives there with his wife Bessy and their daughter, Flora.
The wind lulls around 3:30 AM and that kind of deep silence that only happens inside thick Pine trees and bramble takes over. The brisk temperature even keeps the nighttime insects quiet.
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
Floyd Stirs early – he’s got to report for work at janitorial service across town that cleans public buildings. And they start before six AM. He’s gotten out of bed at 3:00AM his whole life.
He’s just blinking the cobwebs out of his eyes when he catches movement outside his small bedroom window. He gets out of bed and wanders over to the filthy glass to peer outside. He grabs the powerful MAGLITE flashlight he always keeps on his nightstand and shines a beam into the inky darkness beyond the glass. Seeing nothing, he unlatches the lower window casement and lifts it, extending his hand outside – moving his heavy hand torch from side to side. He’s immediately assaulted by a stench – a foul putrescent odor like rotting carrion.
Suddenly something grabs his hand. Searing pain rips through his forearm as teeth rip into him. Beesom starts screaming at the top of his lungs. He can feel pieces of his arm being torn out, his flesh stretching like cheese.
Then the pulling starts.
Something is dragging Floyd Beesom outside through his open window as it maintains a macerating vice-grip on his arm. It then heaves Floyd’s skull into the open window frame-wall like a battering ram. Whatever the thing is – it’s screaming and howling like a wild banshee – deafening crazed and blood-curdling noises, from some rabid fiend in the grips of a feeding frenzy. His wife, Bessy, throws her 300-pound body sideways into Floyd to bulldoze her thrashing husband back inside the room. The yelling and the ungodly racket paralyze Flora, who can do little else but stand frozen in place and scream at the blood erupting from her father’s arm and covering both of her parents like thick red paint.
The entire house – especially the window frames – are rotten and termite-ridden. The flimsy window walls can’t withstand any sustained pressure or impact against it. Both top and bottom casements of the window soon disintegrate, splintering outwards creating a gaping hole in the side of the shack. For an instant, Floyd falls backwards on top of his wife, his mangled arm now completely torn off at the shoulder socket. He’s spurting blood everywhere.
Then they see it. A leering, grotesque face from Hell moving through the opening to reclaim its prey. But all they focus on is its teeth. Huge teeth of a snarling and shrieking animal coming at them. Its mouth is dripping foul, bloody slime that’s cascading down its neck and chest and its clawed hands are spasmodically tearing at the air in front of it, soon grabbing at whomever it can catch hold of – Floyd and his large wife. It leers at Flora is its dessert, an immobile morsel waiting in terror for her turn to be eviscerated.
It’s an evil monster consumed by murderous rage, creeping forward to butcher anything it can grab. A large claw slices into Floyd’s throat, tearing out his windpipe and carotid artery, releasing the final torrents of his life’s blood everywhere. The beast then thrusts its claw upwards into the man’s nasal and brain cavity, crushing and tearing out his upper jawbone and nose cartilage – greedily digging deep for what it craves: Brains.
It pulls what remains of the man’s shredded face to its mouth and fangs and loudly sucks out everything it can. The clawed hand then disengages from Floyd -and plunges into Bessy’s mouth and throat, tearing off her lower jaw completely. It feeds loudly at what’s left of Bessy’s throat while her lower limbs spasm and dance in a macabre convulsion – an obese marionette doll cruelly pinned to the floor by her torturer. Wet, slapping sucking noises replace howling and screeching for the time being – but the fiend’s blazing red eyes are already focusing on a final tasty prize: Flora.
All the while Flora is standing – frozen in shock – her mouth incapable of sound. Finally, the Satanic intruder pounces on the little girl, burying his clawed left hand deep into her stomach and ripping out her entrails. It shovels her abdominal insides into his gaping maw and savors them surrounded by a mountain of her parent’s gore and human organ meat strewn all over the floor. The place is awash in red and reeks of human waste.
The shack goes silent – but for the sucking noises and occasional celebratory shrieks that are not human. The attack is over. The intruder satiates his appetite – it’s now a calm and deliberate feast. A veritable smorgasbord of delicacies for the nightmarish creature. It picks the bodies clean, moving from glistening pile to pile of reeking guts, muscle and bone. It spends the last few hours of darkness – the time of safety – packing his rapacious chops with gore and blood, brains and human organs.
It has been a good hunt.
*NO PART OF THIS WORK PRODUCT IS AI
Copyright, 2026 – Jon & Jedediah Croft
www.bogironfoundry.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
