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A warm and hearty welcome, all avid readers, friends and fellow writers to my internet living room. I, with conspicuous and anxious gaze, await your much anticipated arrival!This is Stephen Taylor writing near a bright and open window found within a universal location of the mind which is situated squarely within the heart and soul of the universal world, this, my current residence of Scarborough
***NOW AVAILABLE*** If you will, my friends, read, soon to be collector’s item, this, the true account made of murder and madness, occurring on the streets of Toronto! It is a true story concerning this city’s most notorious murderer, who in truth was never brought to trial nor charged of any crime.
This tale entitled,The Happy Hour is true story of a man named Armstrong, who, described to those now attending him within the fortified walls of one of Ontario’s safest, most secretive and most secure asylums, is known as the ‘Machete Murderer’.
Here, within these pages, may you read all of his gruesome exploits of which some have been, at least in part, described to me by members of Toronto’s finest team of homicide detectives. Yes, all the elements of criminality, spirituality and horror are described as they are properly exploited, thus to reveal the mind of a killer destined to become in all certainty, Toronto’s darkest and most tightly guarded secret! About to be set free upon the citizens of Toronto and indeed the citizens of the world -he is here, Willie Armstrong, as he, with his killing blade held righteously above his head, is about to cut and chop until all his victims are made to feel the wrath of a blade, both poised and polished in the most pristine manner, to kill! The ‘Machete Murderer’ comes not only to destroy but to make love to the body butchered now purified by his blade of holiness. It is here the reader shall witness within these fraught filled pages, the desecration and the defecation of a mind gone mad! Here, if you please, read this true, never to be told account of Toronto’s ‘Machete Murderer’, whose victims now cut, are then stuffed quite unceremoniously into a duffle bag, their remains weighted down and made to sink down to the very bottom of a blood-red River known as the Don.
Please, I implore of you, to read Volumes I and II, a three part work of true – soon to be historical account of this city’s only serial killer entitled ‘The Happy Hour.’ Look for it, my fellow readers.***NOW AVAILABLE at firstname.lastname@example.org. ‘THE HAPPY HOUR’ StephenTaylor – available exclusively, of course, only on the internet publishing book shelf site both in regular and E book format. Be seeing you. Stephen
***The Friends of Poe***, Literary Society Canada. First prize winner 2005. Best original theme based on an adaptation of an Edgar Allen Poe short story: ‘The Premature Burial. The ‘House Of Triblinkus’ was judged for its originality, uniqueness, and overall horrific impact. The story of ‘Triblinkus’ has therefore been deemed to have attained a level of gastly grotesquerie not yet defined, nor probably ever understood by the average and casual reader of gothic or modern day horror.
Once more, a warm hello and heart-felt welcome to one and all. Again, may I take this brief moment to introduce my second book entitled:’The House of Triblinkus’ which, indeed, as Edgar Allen Poe may wish to suggest is a tale told that is, “All too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction.” So, too, it is a story narrated to me by the citizens of a small and rural northern Ontario community where, by all true and accurate accounts, a man named George Triblinkus held the rather dubious and dishonourable title of town undertaker; too, as sworn by me, all names and events surrounding this horrible murder have been altered, therefore appeasing the aching and still grieving hearts of the remaining family members, loved ones, and friends of an innocent woman named Tracy Harris. With undue and everlasting gratitude, their wishes having been granted. This author nevertheless has removed all caution in an attempt to describe the perverse and devious nature of a small town’s only undertaker, who, according to a most lengthy and descript list of details supplied to me by the citizens of a town named Thornsby, was a long deemed to be worshipper of all things unholy and sacrilegious. It is George Triblinkus, the murderer of an innocent young collge student, who is boldly and blatantly but accurately described nonetheless within these pages, seemingly, at first glance, that are made of nothing less than unbelievable narration and desecratory description. So, too, within these pages is found a woman destined to become prematurely buried, or, in her sad case, laid to rest before her time. Read, if you will, my friends, her tale of sorrow, her woeful cries for help; who, then, in disbelief at her ever fearful plight, will come to better understand her final preparation and burial soon to be at hand. Looking at her not only from within, but down as well, Tracy tries in vain to call out to an audience, as she, Tracy Harris, the young and innocent college student, prepares to travel down into her deep and decaying humus of final burial. It is here within her burial box, Tracy breathes no more, but somehow faintly still, as she, in futile and final attempt, screams out her warning to anyone venturing too near this small town, and to stay clear of a mortician named Triblinkus and his house! It is here within these deep and dark pages of unnatural narration, the reader may feel somewhat uncomfortable, or, perhaps by a certain sense of entrapment, to be somewhat shackled as one might experience when becoming suddenly entombed within a box…now unable to think…unable to move… barely now, it seems, able to breathe within an ever sinking vessel containing the corpse of a woman murdered! It is here from within these cloddy-caked pages of narration that Tracy is held like a prisoner tightly locked away forever -now destined to be taken down by the oblong box encircling her! Made of madness and murder known as the mind of Triblinkus – it is from within this tomb that a woman is soon buried certainly before her time, by a man determined to make perverse and passionate love to her before forever burying her. Knowing her fate, Tracy, as she slowly descends into the depths of everlasting oblivion, shall, as the reader must do, clutch and claw her way, both out and away, from the dirt of her demise, while screaming, at the same time, loudly, passionately, helplessly, hopelessly, as the earth of her everlasting dread buries Tracy for the very last time! Yes, my friends of the horrific, idyllic, the fantastic and the esoteric – read, if you dare, the tale of Triblinkus with caution and a certain degree of respect for the man and his devious nature who is destined to bury all readers venturing too near the perimeter of his pages, wherein you will certainly discover the body, mind and soul of a man, along with his house, this, ‘The House of Triblinkus’, available on email@example.com. Come now, I implore of you, to a secret place wherein is found the passion, the perversity, and the madness of a man living within his own house named quite aptly: “The House of Triblinkus” available on:firstname.lastname@example.org. Read the words, if you will; then, to me send, if you please, your much needed comments where all shall be recorded and published on this website which is again: email@example.com. Be seeing you. Stephen
The Happy Hour
Now available upon the internet book shelf found at currently sitting on: firstname.lastname@example.org bookshelf as well is a most extraordinary account of man not previously known to the general public, who, before his eventual capture, killed in the most brutal and sadistic manner five women; not known as well, a Catholic priest killed by the same man for whatever ungodly, insane reason; and through the streets of Toronto, Willie Armstrong was once allowed to roam unfettered, unabashedly, shamelessly up and down a city once famous for its cleanliness and its dutiful concern for the safety of its citizens. Perhaps this is why the true story of the Machete Murderer,at least up until this very moment, was never fully revealed to anyone except to those select few guarding him. A privileged few indeed have come to both hear and see the man himself, who is today still feared even as he sits shackled behind iron bolts and steel cages, wherein he is most certainly to be found locked behind inescapable and unbreakable concrete. Willie Armstrong waits here no doubt sitting – perhaps waiting his chance to escape as he would like – where he the killer of six innocent citizens, whose story has been told, in part at least to me, by members of a police force not willing to become involved, yet concerned enough to give to me the paultry bits of information needed to further investigate this previously unknown and untold story! The description of this man and his horribe deeds are as hideous and criminal as they are frightful to behold! To be sure – this maniacal, once manacled man of unholy deed dances the ‘pas de deux’ ever night with the blade of destruction at his side, wherein this man, now self appointed Paraclete of Destruction and Death, has duly been granted the absolute power to butcher, to maim, and to slaughter – all given to him by the highest and holiest authority! Willie Armstrong, my friends, is coming your way most assuredly, if not already amongst us. He, the man of the machete, who deems himself more righteous than you, who, in fact, has been given the power to judge and to sentence all of mankind especially the women of this world. All, to him, are deemed not worthy – not one of them – to breathe his air! And Willie Armstrong may indeed have already escaped from the confines of his maddening and tormented self from which, now liberated from the manacles holding him fast, shall this man of the machete now be let loose upon us all, whose sword of sanctification and purification has already been righteously raised – both ready and poised to strike! Perhaps, this man of unholy and self righteous purpose has already escaped his confines, waiting as he is around every street corner, every avenue of the world, waiting for all the sinners of the world who have fallen short of the glory and goodness of God. Watch, my fellow readers, for a man named Armstrong – his head shaved – his arms bulging now fortified by the strength of a madman – who cannot stop – who cannot alter his path of choice nor the destiny of his demise! My fellow readers and citizens of the world, this man of the machete has arrived, to be sure, now upon the bookstore located at: email@example.com. This very minute he waits, no doubt, in long and painful silence to be heard along with his dutiful and deathly blade of purification – to be felt by all those not worthy to be near him. Made of criminality most profane, horror most terrifying, and spirituality most twisted – please, I urge one and all, to read this grotesque, this pleasing, this utterly entertaining tale told to a world now ready to receive The Machete Murderer! Hear, within him the arcana of his thoughts, along with the screaming symphony of his madness – all serving to reinforce and to better define his profile, and to describe the motivation for this man’s compulsion – all serving the deliberate and accurate depiction of a man now finally captured! However, soon, no doubt upon the hour of his escape, The Machete Murderer shall escape – about to be set free once more – allowed to kill again with neither impunity nor conscience! Be seeing you. Stephen
The House of Triblinkus
Log on, if you will my friends, to firstname.lastname@example.org and there, if you will, look up the title: The House of Triblinkus. There you may purchase a copy sent directly to your door and delivered within five days. A caution is given to the reader: This book therein contains, arguably, one of man’s most detestable and disgusting aberrations! This man’s proclivity therefore is not described in any fanciful or wanton manner, nor gratuitously, but is described as a vehicle to better define and understand, finally, one man’s fascination and passionate for the dead. I shall meet one and all, my guided tour to be graciously and ghastly presented to one and all reading this delicious, but altogether deathly horrific narration occurring within the silent walls and sacrilegious halls of The House of Triblinkus. See you there, but beware within! For those entering are not surely to leave ever again alive!
The Happy Hour