Laura's Story - John Stormm (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

and had probably blown it all out of proportion, and since nobody was really hurt, they apologised and the officer took me to an all night gas station to get some gas, and escorted me the rest of the way home, in case my car was having more trouble. It was having electrical problems at the time. Such is the reality that makes no sense to Vernon, but always works for me when I do what I know is possible, even though the rest of you sleepwalkers think it's crazy. That was not to be the only time that I left a sleepwalker in the fetal position with their thumbs planted thoroughly in their mouths, but I digress.

There's a whole world of horrors and wonders before your very eyes, that most of you will go your entire limited lives to your graves and never see. I needed to share some of that with you, in order to make you understand why and how keenly some of us will miss Laura. There are certain matters of privacy that I need to respect for many and diverse reasons as I share this story. It would open up the lives of good people to all sorts of scrutiny, suspicion, persecution and derision. In sharing my own story, as I have on Facebook, and in my articles, YouTube videos, radio interviews and fantasy novels; I have opened my life up as a proverbial freakshow. I don't much care, because I really am a very serious witch and MK Ultra, and I really don't have any problems with what I am capable of doing, to the very worst of you out there. As far as I'm concerned, this world is a dark, cruel place, and it will better serve the kinder, gentler folk in it, if you were no longer in ti, and making it worse for us. That's my reality, and when it comes right down to the pinch, I have always had the power to make my reality over ride yours. That was their purpose in making me an Ultra, except that I no longer serve at their whims either. Between those traits that I inherited naturally, and those that were put upon me, through Rockefeller funded eugenics, I have become a force to be reckoned with, and eventually, I took ownership of myself.

Laura was always a denizen of Rochester's north west side as far back as I can remember. She lived with her dad, who was a blue collar worker at Kodak Park, and her younger brother Rusty. She almost never spoke of her mother and what had happened to her, and knowing how painful some memories and truthes in one's life can be, I had never pressed her about it. I was kind of a neighborhood "big brother", who was known for keeping bullies and gangs at bay, and more than a few bigger than life exploits around town. I was the karate freak, even before anybody heard about Bruce Lee. It was not by accident, but by design, but then, few would ever listen or consider how it was, that this was so.

In the early Seventies, I was working as a medic for Parkside Ambulance and putting some of my talents to the best use that I could. For me, I needed to validate myself as something a bit more promising, than being Frankenstein's Monster, which was how I saw myself as an MK Ultra. I was altered by ex-Nazi doctors to be a sort of super soldier, designed to efficiently kill off other badasses with a host of what many would consider as unfair advantages. I've listed most of those in my other articles and videos. I just include them here, so that you can understand where my heart was at when I met Laura, and how we got on as we had. She was to be one of the most unique relationships, that I had ever had with a woman in my lifetime, and not in any of the ways that quickly and commonly come to anyone's mind. Even my own.

I had recently split up with my first wife. I was challenging a doctorate in theology, to help me with my own questions about my life and experiences. It was summer time in Rochester, and I was in my early twenties, and I was way too popular, with far too many nurses about town, and beginning to not like the kind of cad that this made me feel like. Like most emergency workers, we carried pagers and ate most of our meals at various diners around town. At any given time, our meals could be interupted with an emergency call, so we frequented those places, who would be so kind and understanding, as to put our meals away for us, for when we would return and settle our tabs later. Laura was about 18 or 19 at the time and worked as a waitress at the old Maplewood Diner, that used to be on Route 104, near Lake Avenue. She lived only a few blocks away from there.

Coming in with our usual crew of medical misfits and misanthropes, there she was: An exotic looking redhead, with a lithe, willowy figure, hair the color of polished copper strands, freckles sprinkled liberally about a cute, pert little nose, and irises the color of a brushed brass finish and an impish,, mischevious smile. Depending upon the shift we were working, there would be me, Glen, Rick, Dana, Rosy or any of a few others. Glen was about 27 or so and was instantly taken with Laura. But then, Glen's idea of women was strictly as a life support system for a pair of tits and a vagina.

I was brought up with an entirely different world view. But I knew the moment that I first met eyes with her, that she wasn't "normal" as most people would describe normal. Neither was I. I just wasn't too happy about my own habits with women of late, and I wasn't going to allow myself to become infatuated with any more, at least for a while, until I settled a few things in my own heart and mind first. So I was friendly and professional with her, and Glen was as lecherous and predatory as he could be. The more she seemed not to care, the more he became obsessed with her and the harder he tried.

Working on an ambulance in a midsized industrial city like Rochester, was about as exciting and hectic as you can well imagine. As I wasn't desirous of adding Laura to my list of conquests that summer, my meetings with her at the Maplewood were sporatic at best. Glen, Rick and I shared a penthouse apartment on Lake Avenue in those days. In the beginning of that lease, it was like a contest between eligible bachelors, as to who could best keep the pad furnished in hot and cold running nurses. I was ahead for a few months, but I was losing interest. Not in the nurses, but my self respect as a man. I couldn't escape the idea that my world was meant for bigger and better things. Glen would sometimes disappear for a few days of drunkeness and debauchery and come back drained, with enormous bar tabs, and a bit late or short, on his share of the lease agreement. Evidently, in his constant obsessive pursuit of Laura, he got lucky... or not.

We come home to find him back at the pad, looking drawn and thin, like he was 60 instead of barely pushing 30. Most ascribed this to Glen's lecherous lifestyle and drinking, taking its inevitable toll on him. But I knew that no single evening of sex and booze could do that to any man. The rest would believe any lame excuses they could concoct, to explain it in terms they could accept. But I knew differently. I knew he had been with Laura, as he had bragged that he had finally gotten his chance. And I knew parts of Rochester that they never dared look upon or believe in, if they had. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I considered Laura as another monster, such as I or worse, or a gal using her own resources to rid herself of a bothersome lech such as Glen. I had to be fair about this, but I also had to confront it head on. I've always felt responsible for the kind of power I wielded, and whether anyone else knew or understood this; when something evil made its threat to myself or those around me, I intervened. Because I could, and it was mine to do.

I had pulled nearly 72 hours of straight service on the rigs, and I was entitled to a couple days off with no calls. So I made it a point to take all my meals at the Maplewood, until I could catch Laura on shift and talk to her. I wasn't sure about what I would say or do about any of this. It wasn't as if anyone actually asked me to look into it. They had already convinced themselves of what the reality of that situation was all about and content with that. I had rarely, openly met with anyone like myself of like Laura before, and to someone like me, the curiosity factor was irresistable. I was about to see my horizons expanded and get an education of my own.

I came in for dinner, and she waited on me. Most of the better waitresses are flirts, and their attention to service and smiles net them the best tips. Laura was no scrounge. As she was filling up my coffee cup for the second time, and asked how all the gang at Parkside were doing ; I mentioned that Glen had bragged that he had finally gotten a date with her. I didn't say how he looked or anything. But she stopped and looked me long in the eyes, which doesn't happen to me very much. Most people find my direct gaze uncomfortable. There was hardly any customers, so she took her break with me at my table. I didn't invite her, though I would have, if she had not thought of it first.

"I like you," she said, looking me straight in the eyes. "You're more of a man than you seem."

This totally threw me for a loop. I've known many gals over the years that manage brute men by constantly keeping them off balance, and guiding them about as if they were as easy as puppies. I come from a matriarchal witch clan, and women aren't all that mysterious to me. I appreciate them for all my own reasons, and the qualities they possess, beyond the "right one", "left one" and a heartshaped hiney. Men think of everything in linear terms. They have mass and strength of sinew to push their way through nearly any obstacles that life throws in their way. Women do not have this mass and strength, but are no less formidible for this, as they tend to think circularly, and know how to get around most of the big obstacles in their lives. Where guys like to charge straight into things, women are more subtle and crafty about how they deal with things. Laura was like "femininity squared".

My first thoughts were that she was about to drain my masculine life force out of me like she did Glen's, and was flattering me to get me to take the bait offered. But I was mistaken. Laura always had this penchant for making colorful metaphors and euphanisms. It was like a hobby or entertainment that we shared together. To Laura's thinking, there were two basic types of people in the world, regardless of race, color or creed: "Breeds", or hybrids, and the common, garden variety of sleepwalking humans. Male breeds are known as incubi, and females as succubi. This was why she