TEENAGE DREAM

Algol -- the “Daemon-Star” - is actually a system of three stars located ninety-three light years from Earth in the constellation known as Perseus.

The inhabitants of the Algolite system (my own people) are known as the Watchers. Masters of all Space and Time, we are the oldest and most highly advanced civilisation in all the known Universe. In reality we exist as beings of pure ecstatic energy, but maintain a humanoid form for cover and the necessary humility to interact when necessary with the other beings of the Cosmos. Our science appears as what is known as “magic” to mortals.

Now, it should be understood that the Watchers of Algol never interfere in the affairs of other races and civilisations -- well, officially anyway. There does exist, hidden deeply within the government system of Algolitish society, an elite “secret service” organisation known as the KOSMIKOS or Cosmic Intervention Department. It is the ongoing mission of this agency to defend against the numerous dark and unholy evils that have bred in the darkest eldritch corners of the Universe.

You see, whilst our home planet of Daemonia (the central world of the Algol system) has given rise to the word “daemon”, meaning a spirit of inspiration, some other life forms have become a perversion of this, being what some refer to as “demons” or “evil spirits”, utilising their own technologies for purposes of interplanetary conquest and suppression of weaker beings.

These wicked ones include the Kakodemons of Andromeda, the Shaitans of Eblis, the Maskim of Mercury, the Mutations of Manverkoss, the Leknii Replicants, the Reptilians of Lemuria and Atlantis, and many others. It is these creatures of ungodly malevolence and perverse iniquity that it is my purpose to fight.

My name is Rumanos -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. Born of the most noble and illustrious family of the Watchers of Algol, I have taken it as my duty to work as an operative of the Kosmikos, assigned to the planet Earth, from which I protect the human race and defend against all manner of threat. I am the living image of Algol upon this world. I am the Daemon-Star! …

I had arrived in the area known as Lutherville, in northern Baltimore County in the State of Maryland, by special request of a young lady residing there. You see, my work has become known upon Earth to a certain extent, publicity actually aiding as a form of concealment in this case, and I am sometimes contacted by private citizens of this planet to aid them in bizarre circumstances that have gone beyond their control or ability to cope. Such was the case here.

The girl’s name was Sarah Porter, age sixteen, and she was a student at the near by high school. I could tell from the telephone conversation that we had had that she was an intelligent and thoughtful young person, though somewhat overwrought by certain experiences she had recently undergone.

A friend of hers, a girl named Nancy, had died some time before under rather strange circumstances. You see, Nancy had been having a series of strange dreams in which she had apparently imagined being molested by an individual known as Andrew Howard-Bee, a convicted sex offender who had died in prison decades before. This execrable miscreant, known to local legend as “Andy Bee” (though he preferred to be known as “Drew Bee“, and had made a big issue of this in his taunting letters to the police and media) was said to have been a practicing Satanist, though this was not mentioned at his trial for fear of “religious discrimination”!

Andy Howard-Bee, after being found guilty of rape and child molestation, had received the maximum sentence for his crimes. He was kept isolated from other prisoners to avoid the moral outrage that even hardened criminals allegedly feel for paedophile types, but nevertheless was found hanged in his cell a few months after the beginning of his incarceration at the Maryland State Penitentiary. Apparently, he had committed suicide by tying bed sheets together and jumping off the unused top bunk of his prison cell.

Howard-Bee’s death was considered good riddance by the people of Lutherville. His remains were quickly cremated and he was buried without ceremony in an unmarked grave. After this, his name was only used as a sort of “bogeyman” to scare local children. “Be a good little girl or Andy Bee will get you”. That sort of thing.

Because if this, nobody thought much of young Nancy’s claims to be having nightmares of Andy Howard-Bee. That is, until she had died from bleeding to death in her sleep, the bleeding caused by a violent rupture as if she had been brutally raped by a monstrously-endowed man.

There was, however, no additional evidence of rape or violation with any other object that could have caused such profuse bleeding. The medical diagnosis, therefore, was that poor Nancy, fifteen years old, had died of natural causes due to some unnamed physical ailment. Rest in peace and let the media move on to the usual political news and community events. Hideous.

And so, you can imagine that when, nearly a year after these horrible proceedings, Nancy’s friend Sarah Porter began having dreams in which the deceased rapist Andy Howard-Bee was chasing her through the woods, the young girl thought it prudent to take them seriously! Having heard of my own work through certain interesting (if distorted) Baltimore-area news reports of UFO sightings and “paranormal” cases, the teenager contacted me as soon as she had a chance.

I had arrived a bit early at Lutherville Station Shopping Centre, where I had an appointment to meet Miss Sarah Porter at noon in order to discuss her experiences. I was clad in my usual silk suit, leathern greatcoat, jungle boots, sunspecs, and panama hat.

It was 11:15 AM by my watch and seeing as I still had some time before the young lady was due to arrive, I stopped at the local bagel joint for a Reuben sandwich. After my luncheon, as I walked back out into the glaring midday sunlight, I suddenly noticed the form of a man standing in the parking lot staring at me. He was of medium height and somewhat obese, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers -- all black. He looked to be perhaps a mixture of Caucasian and Native American ancestry, and sported a shaven head and a short goatee and moustache. In his dark eyes seemed to lurk unmitigated evil, and I saw hanging from a silver chain around his neck the horrid inverted pentagram of Satanic worship.

It was just as this person unleashed a wave of incredibly-powerful darksome energy at me that I realised whom he was. It was from old mug shots I had seen that I recognised him, for this was apparently none other than the long-dead devil-worshipper and serial rapist Andrew Howard-Bee!

I braced myself for the confrontation with “Andy Bee” when suddenly, to my astonishment, he just faded and vanished. The man, along with the dark energy he seemed to wield, was simply no longer there.

I stood there wondering what exactly I had experienced -- A mentalist projection? An hologram? -- When I heard a pleasant female voice from behind me.

“Excuse me. Are you Dr. Rumanos?”

I turned and beheld a stunning young brunette with enchanting green eyes standing before me. She was wearing a tasteful purple dress which was tight in that delightful way the dresses of still-growing girls tend to become tight.

“Miss Porter?” I enquired, glad to affirm by my knowledge of her name that I was indeed the person she sought.

“Sarah,” she said, proffering her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” I said, briefly taking her hand. “Just call me ‘Doctor’.”

The girl was real enough, and I did not mention to her the recent apparent apparition of Andy Howard-Bee, instead enquiring further concerning her own recent experiences and any knowledge of local lore concerning the late criminal.

As it turned out, it was well-known to the locals that Howard-Bee’s home was close by, though no one had approached it in years -- so great was the superstitious fear of this horrid individual, even long after his death.

Sarah Porter was obviously an intelligent and brave young lady, only showing fear or nervousness when she mentioned her recent dreams, along with some tiredness from having lost sleep trying to avoid them. She offered to show me to the location of Andrew Howard-Bee’s house, and I thought it was indeed a good opportunity to unravel the mysteries at hand.

Behind the shopping centre, and on the other side of the tracks of the Maryland Transit Administration’s light-rail train, we came to a path through the woods. Somewhat overgrown as it was, we soon enough made our way to the dilapidated old shack that had been the home of the now-deceased Andrew Howard-Bee (alias “Andy Bee”, alias “Drew Bee”), convicted sex offender and suspected devil-worshipper.

I quickly opened the rusted lock of the dwelling and we entered, with much-suffused sunlight filtered through the surrounding trees and the framework of the broken windows being our sole illumination. Clearing away some cobwebs, we found the only furniture of the one-room shack to be a decrepit old armchair, a decaying mattress on the floor (beside which was a shapeless stack of what had once been pornographic magazines), a couple of broken lamps, and a now-rotting wooden table.

On the table, however, was the most important thing: several old, mouldy books of the “occult” variety. Included were the _Satanic Bible_ and _Satanic Rituals_ of the late Anton Szandor LaVey; the similar _Satanic Scriptures_ of the neo-Nazi dwarf, Peter H. Gilmore; the terrible _Dark World_ by the paranormal pederast known as Zak Bagans; and, worst of all, a sheaf of stapled-together photocopied papers of the horrid _Necronomicon_ of the medieval “Mad Arab”, Abdul al-Hazred. The latter had obviously been made from the edition of that work found at the Eisenhower Library of Johns Hopkins University.

Along with these volumes was a spiral notebook that Howard-Bee had utilised as a diary or journal. As he had pled guilty at his arraignment, this important evidence had never even been presented in court.

I looked through the diary pages, straining to decipher his crabbed, barely-literate handwriting. Here are a few extracts of what was found there (I have corrected his spelling and some of his grammar, and have also slightly censored a few of his more perverse statements):

“They who I worship say they can enlarge and make stronger that part of my body, but I got to sacrifice myself for them to be able to. I don’t like hearing that but guess I will since they say I also first can raise up energy by having some little girls in my bed. Real little ones I hope. …

“They I worship say they are called Chironines. I don’t know what that means but I don’t guess it matters. I just want to have the young chicks and get my thing made bigger. I think me having the Cherokee blood makes this all easier, since they were more psychic or whatever it’s called. …

“Have done another one. Got a little yellow-haired hottie from the school bus stop and brought her here. She ran away after and I hope she don’t go to the cops. It don’t matter though cause I’m about ready to make the transforming, as they I worship call it. That means I got to be dead for awhile anyways. They say I will first come back in dreams and my new thing will tear open the girls dreaming about me. The power from them bleeding to death will be enough after a few for me to come back in the real world. …

“I hear the cops outside. Guess this is it. I’ll be back soon and do them all so hard. Hail Chiron! Hail Satan!”

I pondered in horror what this revealed to me. The “Satanic” force with which Andrew Howard-Bee’s occult delving had come into contact was that of the Chironines! Now, this had originally been a monastic order on the planet Saturn before being forced to flee that world when its society’s then-new socialistic government had suppressed all religious organisations.

The order had migrated to Chiron, a tiny planet that lies just outside of the orbit of Saturn. In time, the monks and nuns of the Chironines, as they came to be called, had left celibacy behind and degenerated into an unusual kind of partially-telepathic sexual perversion. This due to their isolation coupled with the fact that they had, as with most Saturnians, certain mentalist abilities. Physically dying out after generations of inbreeding among their small number, the Chironines were rumoured to have continued some level of existence by appearing in the sexual dreams of others on their former home-world.

However, the Saturnians had soon put an end to this. Their psychiatric expertise along with the technologically-enhanced mentalist defence barrier eliminated all supposed traces of the Chironines and similar threats on Saturn. But now, upon Earth, the dead Satanist and serial rapist Andrew Howard-Bee had contacted what remained of the Chironines and used their power to extend his own perverted life beyond the grave!

I turned to speak to Sarah and saw that the poor damsel had fallen asleep in the old armchair whilst I had been preoccupied examining the old books.

Then I heard her talking in her sleep.

“No. No.” she said whilst squirming in the chair. “Leave me alone. Don’t touch me. No. Please, no.”

“Sarah!” I shouted. “Sarah, wake up!”

But it was no use. She was deep in an unnatural slumber, and dreaming. Dreaming a dream of an horror far too real -- and potentially deadly. For she was, I realised, dreaming of being attacked by Andy Howard-Bee!

Knowing that there was no time to lose, I quickly knelt down and touched my forehead to Sarah’s, whilst using my Algolitish mentalist powers to enter a state of lucid unconsciousness within her already established dream-world.

I immediately found myself in her dream. The setting was a distorted version of the interior of the old shack. I saw Sarah Porter lying helpless on the floor. She was nude, as people often find themselves to be in dreams. Standing over her was the form of Andrew Howard-Bee, his prurient intentions more than obvious.

A midnight-blue energy shimmered around Andy Howard-Bee’s repulsive form -- an energy I recognised as the power of the Chironines.

Howard-Bee turned, distracted by my sudden appearance upon the scene. Nevertheless, as I began to leap to-wards him, I unexpectedly found myself taken away from the situation. I was then in a different dreamscape -- if that is indeed what it was -- entirely.

I seemed to be in a type of limbo, as in the centre of a vast colourless void, filled as it was with the rushing sound as of electronic white noise. 

Do you recognise the sheer horror of this situation, the horrendously unspeakable terror of it, my friends? With no time to left to lose, I had suddenly been taken away from the scene of Howard-Bee’s intended assault upon the helpless girl; an assault which, if I did not succeed in preventing it, would likely result in her death!

I then perceived another figure standing before me. It was as of a man, taller and thinner than Andy Howard-Bee, and cloaked entirely in black. I deep cowl hid his face.

There was a feeling of unmentionable, palpable evil emanating from him.

“Who are you?” I enquired in astonishment. “What is this place?”

The figure raised a hand and pointed at me as if in accusation. I the heard him speak, his voice muffled somewhat by the white noise.

“Rumanos,” he said mockingly. “Doctor Daniel Rumanos. It is over and I am coming for you soon. The Age of Horror and Hebephilia has begun, and the spectral paranormal terrors will be multiplied beyond your endurance. I will destroy you, Dr. Daniel Rumanos! I will kill you and scatter your corpse throughout the very limits of existence!”

I realised that his voice, distorted as it was, held a quality of elusive familiarity.

“Again, who are you?” I insisted.

“Die, Dr. Daniel Rumanos,” he reiterated amongst continued peals of his grotesquely evil laughter. “Suffer and die!”

He then unleashed a wave of demoniacal energy at me, a wave of ebony-black force of the type I knew could only be wielded by those amongst the most powerful of wicked beings. 

I prepared my Algolitish defences to ward of the dark energy, barely managing to do so in time, and feeling the horrid concussion of its undeniably powerful force.

I then sent a bolt of my own bright orange and blue power back at my mysterious antagonist.

I hit him squarely in the midsection, my energies sparkling luminously, and thought for I moment that I had vanquished him. But then, when the flash had faded, I beheld him still standing before me, and heard again his wicked mad laughter.

“You have failed, Dr. Daniel Rumanos,” he shouted. “You have failed!”

To my own horror, I felt the creeping sensation that he was correct.

“I will kill you, Dr. Daniel Rumanos,” the mysterious one again exclaimed, “Do you hear me? But first, I will completely and totally humiliate you! I will ruin your life and your reputation for all time and then -- then -- I will kill you!”

“Who are you?” I again demanded.

I was answered only by further peals of his grotesque, insane laughter.

Again, do you see the unmanageable terror of this situation, dear readers? It is indeed beyond all earthly expression.

Then, I saw the figure suddenly start to fade, along with the surrounding void and its strange white-noise sound. It all soon disappeared entirely.

In a matter of moments, I was back in the dreamscape of Miss Sarah Porter being menaced by the execrable Drew Howard-Bee.

I noticed that absolutely no time had elapsed here whilst I had been occupied with the mysterious figure in black. Apparently, my encounter with the other had indeed taken place outside of any manifestation of temporal existence, even that of dreams.

Howard-Bee was still looking in my direction as he stood over the helpless teenage girl. The shimmering midnight-blue power of the Chironines still played about his dreadful form.

Without hesitating, I hit Drew Bee with a tackle that would have done credit to any rugby football player. This contact, due to my Algolitish powers, caused him to be taken out of the dream immediately. I found myself struggling with him on the floor of the real-world shack and gave him a sharp blow to the face before regaining my feet.

The body of Drew Bee, being as it was only a partially-physical construction, very soon dissolved into nothingness. He had not yet completed enough of his psyche-sexual transference in order to assure his return to any true corporeal existence, and my punch to his ugly face had caused just enough pain for him to not be able to concentrate on escaping back to the dream-world. His form dispersed, and not even dust remained. I knew then that the hideous satanic rapist Andrew Howard-Bee, alias Andy Bee, alias Drew Bee, was no more.

It was then that Sarah Porter woke up screaming. She quickly jumped to her feet and I rushed over to comfort her.

“Doctor, what… ?” she finally said, calming down at the sight of the real world and the safety of my presence. “What happened? I was dreaming and saw you fighting him and…”

“There is nothing more to fear, Sarah,” said I, putting a consoling arm around her shoulders. “That nightmare is over and will not return.”

I indeed knew, as I led the girl out into the light of day, that neither she nor anyone else would be further molested by the sickening criminal known to infamy as Drew Bee, and that the contact upon Earth of the Chironines had been severed.

None the less, at the same time I could not help but wonder about the other figure; the mysterious man cloaked in black; the one who mocked and threatened and had seemed to have about him an aura of unspeakable evil beyond imagining -- the one only I had encountered. Was he just a figment of my own unconscious mind or something more? Little could I know in what way I would discover the horrifying truth of this in days to come.

Forsooth, little could I even begin to know in what horrendous and unmentionable ways this had already commenced to change my life forevermore!