I was reading the Crime Library dot com the other day and came across a story that both thrilled and chilled my blood. The perpetrators were not your typical serial killers but the crimes they were starting to commit were well on the way to being sexual sadists killers. It is instead a tale of extreme survival, since you may not want to look it up at the web site and read it I will some info so that if you choose to read it you can either buy the girl’s book or go to the site for the abbreviated version.
I Have Life, by Alison Botha can or
be ordered here
http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/criminal_mind/sexual_assault/alison_ripper_rapist/1.html
In case this doesn’t come through properly I will give you these alternatives: I Have Life, by Alison Botha, is the book and the story is Ripper Rapists on the crime Library. You can goggle the topics and find either one easily. If you do read it, then we can discuss it better.
I have felt conflicted about how I feel regarding the nature of life…it is so complex that it sometimes boggles the mind…trying to decide what the truth really is. Pondering the differences between fate and destiny…environmental influences and inherited traits…the real history and the victor’s version of history…capitalist versus a socialist versus democratic …etc…there is just so much to think about not including such things as religious versus evolutionist creation nor the evil bedfellow of political debate between friends. Or how about the universe can we be truly Gods only creatures or is there life on other planets by other gods..
I have researched the lives of some of the famous rock and movie stars and it appears that they would have been successful people in whatever career they choose to follow, some especially just seem to have all the right needs and associates in their life’s to spring up into instant stardom. While other people seem to be born behind the eight-ball doomed to failure or a short life ending in a tragic death.
How much do you know about the Manson family, I recently downloaded a documentary called ‘The Six Degrees of Helter Skelter , 2009’, it is slightly more informative then some of the movies about what happened mostly because it is not a product of Hollywood propaganda or hype. I was actually living close to and in Hollywood during those times and even though I wasn’t really following the news; I saw some of the girls both with and without their hair, in and around the area. Years later I recalled a few tidbits like walking around Sunset and Vine to the Sunset Strip and seeing this little square papers plastered all over the place, saying stuff like ‘Sex Sadie is a Liar’, ‘Helter Skelter is Coming’ and many more that I can’t quite visualize at the moment. Then it didn’t really register to me what it was about, I was 18 and on the prowl with stuff I felt was more important in my life going on. If I went back in time with my current knowledge what would have seen that then I casually strolled by? If things were different or I was a different person or gender could I have somehow been sucked into that strange Manson universe, could I have been so drugged out that I would have let myself be so used by the like of him?
Most movies, books are not scary to me in themselves but some little thoughts got stuck in my head like the scene in one of the Ted Bundy movies that showed one girl handcuffed to a pipe in a small shed coming to, and as she clearing those cobwebs away then; trying to figure out how and why she was in that predicament has to endure him dragging another semiconscious girl into the room. At first she doesn’t realize who the monster is who has them both captive, even as he savagely rapes the other girl, she just whimpers, hoping to be let go after he is done abusing them. But as she watches him bash in the brains of his current victim, her real terror begins. If she would have had the tools or capability I think she would have removed her arm in the attempt to free herself; like many animals caught in traps have done. I realize it takes longer to describe something scary happening then the actual event itself unfolding.
But from some of my experiences I know that time seems to go into slow motion during traumatic events. I can distinctly remember the last and worst fall or disaster I had a coup0le of years ago and it became so imprinted on my subconscious that it gave me intense nightmares for a long time. It had to have taken mere second to happen but it felt like hours. I was climbing a 20 foot ladder when time stopped.., and my heart skipped a beat…as the base slid backwards ever so slightly…I was very close to the top …so close in fact that I could almost grab the edge of the roof with my right hand…,instinctively I froze, while debating my next action…after a slight shift of my weight with a mind to dash for the safety of that roof…it moved again this taking the object of my desire farther away…glancing at the ground was the wrong thing to do but I couldn’t help myself from taking a peek…more sliding, this time a little sideways…when next my eyes returned to the roof parapet the ladder was barely clinging to its edge…I was now like a deer caught in headlights frozen in time unable to move forward a back for fear of the what was happening…even as the backward and slightly sideward motion of the ladder stated again this time with seeming acceleration as if time was starting to catch up to me. I couldn’t close my eyes nor could I look away as while the ladder started sliding ever so slowly down the wall. When it neared the three quarters of the wall’s height the speed increased exponentially, at the same time my heart beat had increased like it was racing the ladder to be the first to the bottom.
During this whole time it was like I was watching something happening to another…it seemed so unreal up until the final seconds when my face impacted a rung of the ladder, mangling my glasses before the flew off my face. For those few moments I was that girl chained to the pipe, until a mind numbing pain roused me back into the time stream. On rolling off the ladder and forcing myself to a sitting position, then getting to my feet in a effort to distance myself from that terrible place, I felt another excruciating pain in my right ankle and something running down my face…I tried to gain my sea legs anyway fighting a wave of nausea and dizziness…before feeling something wasn’t right with my left arm which I had raised toward my face in effort to discover why my face was wet and what was dripping from it…on look forced me into the realization that it would be better to sit back down…my wrist and forearm were at an unnatural angle from each other…it dawned on me that it must be broken and if I wasn’t careful it would break through the stretched skin holding it back. It pain in my ankle and face seemed to lesson watching my arm swell… I had made a connection to the pulsating waves of pain from origin and inside I wanted to scream for help…
Instead I looked around puzzled by the guy on the roof yelling down at me and the coast guard guys running toward me…I remembered where I was… the 9th street coast guard station…I had brought the guy on the roof to measure the HVAC unit and he had put the ladder up….looking at it I figured what had caused it to move like it did…it was only half of a 40 foot ladder the top half and it had been placed upside down with the rounded top to the blacktop…no wonder it had been so unstable. It is strange how the mind can detach itself from trauma, and the actions of my rescuers seemed remote like my vision was obscured by a thin layer of gauze…time changed direction seeming to speed…reality twisted like Into a weird dream I didn’t want to wake from…the clouds thinned some as I was wheeled into a room of blinding light then transferred onto a stainless steel table like a slab of meat ready to be butchered…an endless sea of faces appeared over mine like a swarm of bees looking for pollen… each asking questions, the looks I returned may have gave the impression I didn’t understand them, but that wasn’t it…I was trying to talk but could not…I felt like a mute, unable to command my vocal cords into action…at last my struggle succeeded in my uttering enough for them to satisfy their more pertinent questions…these busing bees rapidly completed their tasks.
Eventually figured out I was stable enough to self in a corridor at the x-ray department for further study…still strapped on a backboard with my neck in the vice grips of the neck brace. Fortunately an attendant was left that tilted me enough to vomit up the blood flowing from my shattered face down my throat into my stomach was not only making it harder for me to breath it was creating extreme nausea. In the end it wasn’t as bad as it could have been I ended…although I suffered for several broken bones. My large toe on the right foot, my right ankle, my left radial bone being almost a compound fracture of the radial bone; my nose was cornflakes, (it had been broken before in 7 places), my cheekbones were all broken loose from my skull allowing them to free float and my upper jaw was broken in the area under my nose. Everything else was just bruises and contusions besides the gash across the bridge of my nose where all the blood was coming from. I learned all this from the plastic surgeon as he gave me the good news he was going to set my arm, but not to worry he was going to give me the good stuff usually reserved for the stars. Dilaudid or Hydromorphone is a schedule 2 drug and very potent, about 6 to 8 times stronger than morphine with less dependency issues. At any rate after put some of it in my IV; all my pain vanished; I was high as a kite fluttering on a warm summer wind. I am glad It is not something I could easily acquire on my own and that they didn’t give me more to take home. The side effects were nil and the feeling it gave to good to repeat without necessity.
Well I better close or I will never get this posted. Johnny
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