Monthly Archives: October 2008

C.A. Milson visits the “City of Death” – Chapayevsk

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

My journey to Chapayevsk was something left to be desired. I had heard local rumors of this town, and from legends believe, the town of Chapayevsk reminded many people of a version of Silent Hill.

Now you can imagine just how my imagination was running riot on my hour long train ride to Chapayevsk. Buildings falling apart, scrapings of paint ascending into the sky, darkness that covered the area, the sound of a warning siren every few hours, flesh eating zombies from beyond the grave every which way you look, some guy wearing a helmet to cover his lava scorched face, brandishing a 20 foot steak knife….

But was there any of that fantastical stuff? NO! I was sadly disappointed by no sign of flesh eating zombies from the beyond 🙂

What I did see though was a town so heavily polluted that entering the town was like being exposed to an extreme overdose of radiation (Hmmm, one conjers up the thought of a Simpsons episode here where Bart calls out “Watch Out Radioactive Dude!”)

We started our little trek by visitng the ticket booth, then taking a walk past the chemical plant. Hmmm, gave me some ideas, but not many. The chemical plant looked like a demiliterized zone. The eerie thing about this chemical plant was that it had a hell of a lot of ravens in the trees. Now I am not talking about just your average 3 or 4 ravens here. I am talking about DOZENS and DOZENS of the feathered creatures. Seeing them was like watching a scene from Alfred Hitchcocks flick “The Birds”. For a second I thought I may have to high-tail my ass to the nearest phone booth and duck for cover 🙂

No such luck this day 😦

Next up was the old church they were restoring. A beautful piece of architecure that has been in restoration for the last decade. Obviously there is a serious lack of funds to maintain this church as it is literally falling apart everywhere you look, and the grounds are maintained by a gypsy woman who looked like she was born when Stalins’ parents were children 🙂

The food in this little town was also something left to be desired. It is well advised that if you are going to buy food here, take with you a good litre or more of Pepto Bismol. (Seriously, with a town on the brink of a major environmental holocaust, would you “really” want to buy food here?).

With the town features looking anything but scary, we did see an elderly woman in a wheelchair begging for money. Such a sight is common around these parts, and it makes you wonder just where the likes of The Salvation Army is. In many places in Russia, there is a definate class of those who have nothing, and this woman really had NOTHING. So I gave her ten rubles. Her eyes lit up, and she was amazed. As I am told, that is a whole day wage for common people. But it made me wonder just how many others in this town were just like her.

We saw an abandoned puppy with a broken leg. No one seemed to care or bother to notice. Infact, when I went to pet it, it cringed. Obviously it’s former master only showed affection in the forms of beating it. Very sad.

After that we bid farewell to Chapayevsk, and got on the train to return home to Samara. Another eventful trip in which not only did the train take 2 hours to make a 60 minute trip, but the train driver overshot our stop by several miles.

Although the town was extremely depressive, it did give me some ideas for scenes and characters. Like the guy who works in the convenience store who handed me a lighter after having his dirty hand in his mouth; the druken woman who walked down the street, staggering, yelling and crying; the abandoned buildings that were on the brink of collapsing; the ravens (Strange, that reminds me of E.A.Poe); and who can forget the puppy with the gimpy leg.

Alas I await my next adventure.

For those who don’t know much (or anything) about Chapayevsk, here is a little something I found online. For more results you can google the town


Harsh winters, polluted air, crumbling apartment blocks – the residents of many Russian towns might feel that they have cause for complaint. But in Chapayevsk, a town of about 70,000 inhabitants in European Russia, the mayor himself has suggested a novel way of solving the town’s problems – abandon it. You can hardly blame him – 96 per cent of all children there are deemed unhealthy.

Chapayevsk, close to the Volga river and the city of Samara, is home to factories that produced chemical weapons for many years, and is blighted by air and soil pollution. According to the newspaper Nezavisimaya Gazeta, at a round table meeting on the environment in Samara this week, the town’s mayor, Nikolai Malakhov, said that resettling the town’s residents would be an “ideal solution” to Chapayevsk’s problems.

The town was founded about a century ago and was named Chapayevsk in 1929, after the Bolshevik Civil War hero Vasily Chapayev. It was the site of a chemical weapons factory that churned out mustard gas and other deadly weapons in industrial quantities. The factory also made conventional bombs and mines. According to factory veterans, chemical warheads were made by pouring mustard gas solution from a teapot into the bombs, with the toxic chemicals frequently spilling over into factory drains. Over time the city’s water became contaminated with dioxins and other poisons. Today the factory produces herbicides, not chemical weapons, but the pollution in the air and the ground is there to stay.

A study undertaken by American scientists in 2005 found that not only was the air in Chapayevsk contaminated with dioxins, but also locally produced fruit and vegetables, as well as the meat from locally farmed animals. The more local produce that people ate, the more likely they were to get ill. The scientists found dioxin levels in the ground as high as in those parts of Vietnam sprayed with the infamous Agent Orange during the US campaign there. According to Nezavisimaya Gazeta, the fatality rates from throat, liver and kidney cancer in Chapayevsk are three times higher than in nearby cities. The American study found a whole range of sexual abnormalities in Chapayevsk boys, who typically have a late start to puberty.

With the factories no longer providing work, the town also has a high level of unemployment, and one of the highest levels of heroin use in the country, which is contributing to the start of an HIV epidemic. So the mayor’s plan sounds like a good one. But a spokesperson at the local parliament denied that there was any serious talk of relocating the town’s inhabitants.

Some experts believe that abandoning the town might be the most economically viable option, however. “For 100 years, factories in Chapayevsk have been producing weapons, powders and chemical components,” Oleg Mitvol, deputy head of Russia’s official environmental watchdog, told a Russian agency. “There are several cities like this in Russia. But we can spend 50m roubles (£1m) on recultivating the stream that runs through the village that has been contaminated, and nothing will improve. To do it right, we’d have to dig a new channel, redirect the stream there, and remove all the soil. Can you imagine how much that would cost? The only sensible way to solve this problem is with resettlement.”

But despite all the problems, a representative of the Federal Service for Hydrometeorology and Environmental Monitoring, said that Chapayevsk was far from being among the worst Russian cities. “It had an air pollution index of 7.8 in 2007,” said a spokesperson. “To be in the league of the dirtiest towns in Russia, it should be 14.”



C. A. Milson in Samara, Russia

Saturday, September 6, 2008:

Last Monday we prepared to say farewell to Japan, and we went to check-in our baggage with Aeroflot. As expected we had a long wait ahead of us, but what we didnt expect was the service we experienced at the check-in counter. Apparantly it seemed that Aeroflot didn’t have Anna’s updated E-ticket that we purchased in Sydney, and so after alot of unnecessary stress to us both, the attendant went to go find out from her supervisor what could be done as the computer she was using was “not working”. It once again showed that Aeroflot is as efficient as a fart in a dust-storm.

The situation was not pleasent for us both, but after about 20 minutes they found Anna’s updated E-ticket and we prepared to say our farewells to Japan.

I can remember the last time I flew with Aeroflot, back in April. Although they try to seem that they are a world class airline, they are still anything but. Granted, the meal we had was a definate treat from my last experience (day old ham and cheese crossant), but still, the airline could really do with much needed upgrades. Like, how about a better class of airplane, instead of ones designed and built during the Eisenhower Admininstration 🙂

After 11 long hours and little sleep (did I forget to mention the entertainment that was limited to a crackling radio?) we arrived in Moscow. Apart from the extremely long line-up at Customs Control, at least this part was alot easier and very standard for Russian Immigration. The process is this: You go up to Customs Control officer and hand over your passport and visa and say nothing. These people are trained to ignore any questions anyway, rather opting to engage in idle chit-chat with the other officer who is almost sat on their lap 🙂 They look at you, (another words, they give you “A look”) and give you back your passport. No “Have a nice day” or “Welcome to Russia”. No, just a somber look and you are admitted. Thrilling…. But hey, this is Russia and things here work differently.

When we got our baggage, you have to go through another inspection. This time a second baggage inspection. Goodness knows, we went through baggage inspection in Japan, so God forbid if we somehow managed to sneak top secret documents into our baggage in the cargo hold during the 11 hours we were in the air 🙂

Okay, so once we get through the formalities, no sooner had we exited to the main area, when we are greeted by Russian taxi drivers. Not one, but all of them. It seems that these guys have nothing better to do with their time than ask you ten times if you want a taxi. Granted, I find it a pleasent change compared to Sydney where you have to go on a hunting expedition to find a taxi driver who will take you ten minutes downtown. No, infact compared to Russian taxi drivers, Sydneyite taxi’s are downright rude and lazy.

So, after being hounded by several taxi guys, we agreed to use one who would take us to the train station for a price we were both comfy with (Note: If you want to go downtown or anywhere else by taxi, always haggle. You will be surprized how quickly they will agree to a price. Note: Dont haggle to low. Taxi drivers need to make money too 🙂

So our journey did not stop in Moscow as we soon had to board a train for Samara. Not a short trip either, but a very LONG 18 hour journey, on a train that was obviously used during the Stalin years 🙂 (Note: On such a long journey by train, it is always advised to get food before leaving, as the food they sell on the train is VERY limited and extremely overpriced) So once Anna purchased goodies (not all that good either), we boarded the train and set off for Samara.

Another restless night was in store… For more reasons than one 😉 Good thing we had a sleeping booth to ourselves 😉

The journey by train had some nice scenery, but nothing worth writing home about. So I wont go into details about that and how we passed the time 🙂

Finally at around 5 the following afternoon we arrived in Samara. And none too soon either as after 18 hours I had “had enough”. It was a relief to finally get back to Samara. But it wasnt over yet as we got “another” taxi and journeyed for 40 minutes to our apartment at the other end of town. Of course while Anna and mama joked with the taxi driver and listened to his stories of his adventures overseas, I felt like a fish out of water as my Russian is limited to just a few phrases. So you can imagine how many songs I played in my head during those 40 minutes. 40 LONG minutes. Needless to say, our taxi driver was extremely friendly and offered to take me fishing (I hope he meant fishing and not use me for bait).

Okay, so Wednesday came along as it normally would do each week. That day was pretty much resting after such a long trip. Thursday was pretty much the same.

Oh, did I forget to mention dinner? Dinner on Thursday was pancakes and liver. A Russian specialty and quite delicious! Ah how I have missed Russian food!

Friday came the day that we went to OVIRS. In Russia it is mandatory to go into an OVIRS (Immigration) office and notify them that you have arrived. A good system, but note that in most places OVIRS only works 4 days a week, and limited hours, so it is best that you arrive first thing in the morning. This process can be a real headache if you have no idea what you’re doing. But to break it down: You walk into an office where there will normally be 3 people working. They will tell you that you need to get photocopies of your passport, your invitation, visa, sponsor’s passport. (Note to the wise: Do this before you go there to save time). After registering, you will be send to another room where they will stamp your visa. Sound easy? Yes it should be, but it is anything but. In OVIRS there is no such thing as “take a number and wait til your number is called”. No, instead, it is “First in best dressed”, so to speak. When we were there, we waited for ages before we were seen, and then after that we had to wait another 30 minutes before we could get my passport stamped. Although standing around can be about as fun as watching paint dry, there are some moments that can be priceless. Like, when we were waiting, we saw a fellow who thought he was Captain Ahab (And smelt as bad too). This champion of efficiency took it upon himself to start “a list” of people who were “next in line”. Of course, this list had no real meaning in the real world anyway, and Captain Ahab would have been much smarter to invest in a bar of soap rather than paper and pencil 😉

Then there was his “recruits” who joined in on his idiocity and out their names down on his list. Hmmm, seems Ahab would have been brilliant in recruiting people for Amway. Pity he doesn’t know the meaning of cleanliness. (Yes, I mentioned this before, but this boofin looked like a darn idiot pirate wanna-be .. Arrgghhh! 😉 )

It is a good thing mama knows someone in OVIRS otherwise we would have been there all day. After mama had a chat to this person, we got ahead of Ahab and his “pirate recruits” and got my passport stamped and we were gone… Leaving Ahab and his crew to continue arguing ….. about their list!

Okay so the rest of the day was spend sightseeing. For 15pyt (About $0.80AUD), you can go from one side of Samara to the other by taxi-bus. But before I go on I better explain afew things here.

Taxi Bus is a yellow cab mini-bus. These come along about every 5 minutes and go to various parts of Samara. These seat about 12 people. Getting on and paying is on a trust system. You get on and hand your 15pyt to the driver. If you happen to get a seat up the back, you hand your cash forward and the lucky passenger who is sat near the front will hand over your 15pyt to the driver. (See what I mean by “trust system”. Not something that would work in Sydney or Auckland!)

Trolley Bus is much like a tram. Except it is a bus that runs on electricity. Buses run frequently and also go to various parts of Samara. Trolleys or buses cost 10pyt. The only difference here is that on a bus or trolley they have a conductor who will come up to you and give you a ticket.

Russia certainly has alot to offer and so much to see. I highly recommend those who like to travel to visit this country. It certainly is a wonder.

Keep watch for more news

C.A. Milson in Japan

After a long flight from Sydney we arrived in Narita Japan. The whole process of arriving was almost without incident, as since Anna is from Russia, she did had a slight problem with customs in Japan, but that situation was quickly solved, thanks to the outstanding hospitality of the Japanese customs officers. Infact they were more than helpful in the situation. As it turned out, since Anna is a Russian citizen, she needed a visa to stay in Japan, which is somethign both Flight Center AND Aeroflot failed to mention when they ticket was booked.

We are staying at the Holiday inn in Narita, and although the food is overpriced in the hotel, the accomodations are great!

Day one: Tokyo. The weather was humid, but the place is awesome. After a light breakfast in the Holiday Inn dining room, we decided to head to Tokyo for some sight seeing. There is a complimentary shuttle which goes to Narita train station, and the trip to Tokyo took about an hour. To amuse myself, I decided to people watch.

We noticed in Japan, everything is very prompt. We decided to go on a walking tour around the city and Imperial Palace Gardens. There are a few shuttle services around Tokyo, but the one we found to be the best is the complimentary service which goes on a 30 minute tour around the city. The one down side to all the bus tour services is the one called Sky Bus Tours. They leave about every hour from several pick up points in Tokyo, but we found that when we tried to book tickets, they told us they were booked up. Not exactly true, unless the customers were of the invisible kind.

So Sky Bus Tours gets a rating of 1 out of 5 for their service.

Tokyo city is very clean. One of the cleanest cities I have seen in a long time. That, added to the Complimentary shuttle services that goes around the city, Tokyo is one the best cities I have seen in a long time and Sydney sure could learn from their example. As far as service, hospitality and overall rating, it is a great place to visit.

Dinner we had at a restaurant called OhSho. A nice little Japanese restaurant in Narita district. We had Wontons, Fried Rice and Shrimps in Chilli Sauce. Unlike alot of traditional restaurants you would see in Australia or elsewhere, the wait time to be served dinner was incredibly fast. The kitchen area can be seen from the table where we were sat, and it was impecibly clean. I highly recommend the Oh/Sho Restaurant in Narita. (Located about 5 minutes walk from Narita train station, and around the corner from McDonalds) OhSho restaurant gets a rating of 4 out of 5.

The Chosen – The Origin of Jamiesonn

Jamiesonn could remember his former life, a life that started so simply and full of promise. There was once a time when he recounted the days of when he was a mortal. He remembered there were many people from his former life who thought that he was born around 1763, but this was far from the truth. Jamiesonn was born in a filthy environment in a town called Nesikan, located in a small province in northern Russia.

He was born in 1329, to a woman of hideous by nature. He never knew his father. He could have been any number of men who used her for sex. His mother often frequented the local village when she needed food. Most of the time, the only thing she received was a beating. She was so easy and stupid.

Jamiesonn Sabbilarnotz grew up in a small shack infested with rats. It was made of stone for the lower part of the walls, and timber for the upper walls and roof. It was a far cry from even being livable. Day in, day out, the brutally he suffered from the hands of his mother, Olga, were commonplace, and by time he was a teenager he had become so conditioned to the violence that it had become natural to expect the torment. But something happened one day that changed his life.

He was fifteen when he met Danska at the local festival. Danska was young and beautiful. She was the same age as Jamiesonn. From the first moment he saw her, he loved her. But she didn’t feel the same, not in the least. She was repulsed by the sight of him.

She was the only daughter of a local merchant, and seeing an opportunity to advance her own social status, Olga bought her for all the silver she had, and the young couple were married, much to the disapproval of Danska.
As much as Danska despised Jamiesonn, she did like his mother, and the two of them formed a strong bond, mainly due to the fact that Danska’s own mother had died some years before from the plague.

Jamiesonn’s new life seemed like an ideal nightmare. He had a beautiful wife who didn’t love him, and he lived with his mother. The only thing that really changed for him was now he was married. The beatings continued and along with the physical abuse he suffered from his mother, he also endured emotional abuse from his wife. The longer he was in her presence, the more she hated him.

Even his first sexual experience was under duress from his wife, during one of her drunken rampages.

That Danska was sleeping with every new suitor who passed through the village was no big secret, but he didn’t see it. In his eyes, she was perfect and could do no wrong. He wasn’t even wise to the fact that she was having sex with travelers and anyone who offered food and warm clothing.

A year after his non eventful sexual experience, Danska gave birth to a stillborn, deformed male child. Of course, it wasn’t his, but his mother blamed him for this curse, and like any other day, he was beaten violently and then thrown out of the hut by his mother and his wife with nothing more than the tattered clothes on his back.

That day, his eyes were opened for the first time and he saw the true nature of his beloved wife. And his hunger for revenge on them both fueled his rage, and he would do anything—anything—to get it.

The revenge took place, seven years later.

Jamiesonn had gotten heavily involved in witchcraft and black magic. By the time he was twenty-two, he was second in rank to the high priest of a little known cult. This, in his eyes, was an achievement. Satan had become his lord and master and he gave his life to him. He was considered a promising son, and the high priest taught him everything there was to know about the forbidden realms in no time at all.

Exactly a year later, he became the high priest. As his sect grew, so did his power. His followers feared him greatly, because he would kill anyone who crossed him. The one aspect about his position that he truly loved was sacrifices. He took joy in sacrificing anything that had a heartbeat. Jamiesonn had grown into a person who knew only evil, and had great power to add to it. Before he could become Satan’s one and only son, he first had to prove his loyalty and devotion.

“If you want to be my son, you must go to those who persecuted you and do unto them what they did to you,” Satan had once told him.
Jamiesonn was excited about this. He could torture them at last. He had to torture their minds and bodies. Jamiesonn had no problems fulfilling his master’s wishes.

Olga and Danska never expected to see him approaching their filthy home, and they didn’t know that this man was in fact the teenager they had tortured many years ago. Jamiesonn was nonchalant about seeing Danska again. As much as he wanted to tear her flesh from her bones, he remained cool as ice. The only thing he had on his mind when he approached that shitty little hut was revenge.

Danska saw the strange, tall man, and obviously thinking he was just another customer, she rushed into the house. He could hear Olga snoring as she slept in the back room, and did not stir as Danska invited him in. Jamiesonn gazed around the room briefly, and saw that nothing had changed. He looked at Danska, and noticed how beautiful she still was, even though she was older.

“What would you like?” she asked.
Jamiesonn looked into the room where his mother slept, and then stood by the warmth of the stove. That hut brought back many painful memories. Danska shifted nervously from one foot to the other. She clearly felt uneasy with him just standing there, but she said nothing.

In the time between his departure and now, he had heard from travelers that these two particular women were known as the local prostitutes.

“Would my lord like some wine?” Danska asked.
He turned around and looked her right in the eyes. “You don’t remember me, do you?” His tone was calm and steady.
“I don’t know? Have we met before?”
He stepped closer to her. “Oh, yes. Many times.”
Danska looked at him hard, but there was no recognition in her eyes.
“I was one of your favors,” Jamiesonn stated.
Danska grew fearful. “I want you to leave.”
“You have no right to be here!”
“What rights did I have when I was bound, gagged, and tortured by you and my mother?” He paused, noticing the shock on her face. “Ah, now you remember, don’t you?”
She shook her head in disbelief and went to run but couldn’t. He had her firmly in his grip. She begged for his forgiveness, claiming it was not her fault, but his mother’s.

Awakened by the commotion, Olga stormed into the room and demanded to know what was going on. Jamiesonn threw his beloved wife against the wall in one quick movement and faced his mother. Olga grabbed the first thing she could find and charged him.

Jamiesonn stared at her and she stopped suddenly, bound by an invisible force. With a word from him, she was thrown to the far side of the shack. He grabbed Danska by the hair and ordered her to tell his mother who he was. She cried out in pain, but couldn’t bring herself to speak his name.

“Who are you?” Olga shouted in her old crackly voice.
“I am the one you two slews found pleasure in torturing,” Jamiesonn replied, his voice full of bitterness and anger.

His mother gasped in shock, and her eyes widened in fear. He knew she had suspected that he would return someday, but she had no idea what to say. Her mouth moved, but no sound emerged. She feared him. Her eyes told him that. She began to cry and plead with him not to harm them. She promised change, but Jamiesonn knew better.

“I have not come for an apology. You two shall pay for what you did to me!”
He picked up Danska and threw her face first into the hot coals of the fire. She screamed out in horrific pain and fell to the floor weeping. Jamiesonn laughed when he saw his wife’s once beautiful face now bloody, blistered, and scorched.

Olga looked at her and then at Jamiesonn, her expression angry but he didn’t care. He listened as Danska wailed continuously in pain as the blisters spread all over her face.

“It’s your turn now, Mother.”
Instinctively, she put her hands up to cover her face. Obviously, she thought she was to suffer the same fate. This was not the case. Jamiesonn had something special planned for her. He grabbed her by the throat, snarled, and threw her out the front of the shack. She landed heavily on the muddy ground. He wanted to finish this, but something suddenly came over him. He turned around and looked at his deformed, screaming wife, and felt pity for her. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the memory of how beautiful she had once been. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t stand to hear any more of her pathetic wailing. For whatever reason, Jamiesonn clicked his fingers, and all her sores immediately disappeared.

She crawled to a corner and sat there sobbing as she watched him walk outside.

“Well, Mother,” he snarled, grabbing her up and placing her on her feet.
“Jasha, please don’t.”
He just shook his head, and hit her hard in the face. She fell to the ground again and cried out for mercy.
“I’m not in a giving mood today,” Jamiesonn stated. He kicked her hard in the chest, leaving her gasping for air. “You will now get what you deserve.”
The ground began to tremble. From the depths of the earth arose a wooden cross. Jamiesonn was intent on crucifying his mother. He threw her against the cross. Thick iron nails suddenly appeared from within it and pushed through the flesh of her feet and hands. Then a crown of thorns appeared and embedded themselves on her head. Blood gushed from her brow as the crown’s thorns stabbed deep into her skull. He found real pleasure in this sight of ungodliness. Just before she died, she begged God to forgive her son for what he had done. Jamiesonn took little note of this. In his mind, she was going straight to hell.

His revenge was complete, he felt.

Virtual Book Tour

C.A. Milson will be on his VBT from November 2008 through February 2009.

Catch up with the Horror Novelist as he is a guest blogger and interviewed on various websites.


I will be on the Virtual Book Tour de ‘Net on Oct 27.

Also catch my interview with Karina Fabian on


Bitten by Books is going to be hosting the Haunted Blog Carnival from October 27th through November 2nd on their paranormal fiction review site:
As well as their sister site:

Catch up with The Haunted Blog Carnival and be in to win a copy of The Chosen. 10 Winners will be selected at random from each site.

Stop by and join in the fun!


In first part of November catch my interview on The Dark Phantom website with Mayra Calvani.


But don’t go too far. On December 1st catch my interview at J.K.

J.K. Coi
The Immortal Series…Immortals to Die For
The Trouble With Destiny…October, 2008


Stop by Book Talk with J&J on December 6th and catch my interview. One commentor will win an E-Book of The Chosen.


The festive season keeps coming. Catch my radio interview on Elemental Musings on December 14th. The broadcast is at 7 p.m. Mountain time (8 p.m. Central/9 p.m. Eastern).


Also in December I catch up with Kim Smith, Author of Avenging Angel on BlogTalkRadio. Listen in as Kim and I talk about all things Horror!


Bloodline Of Darkness – Untitled Chapter

Alex looked around at the place where Jamiesonn’s shack once stood. Now, instead of being a rustic shack, the ground was scorched and dead. Nothing could grow here, nor would it ever again. He didn’t want to do this, face his nemesis once again, but he knew he had to.

He shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes.

In an instant he vanished and reappeared in Jamiesonn’s world. He looked around and even here everything had changed. Jamiesonn was no longer a captive in his own world, and everything was how it was before. His victims were once again suffering in his private hell, and he was once again free to roam and destroy. The only difference now was that Jamiesonn was limited by what he could do. Sure he had power to enslave his victims, but the one thing he could not do was manifest in the real world, and for that he was pissed off.

“Greetings Soo-kah.” Jamiesonn spoke from behind him.
His voice was powerful, even maybe moreso than what Alex remembered. “Jamiesonn.” Alex said as he turned to face him.
Jamiesonn stood proud before his enemy and glared at him with pure hatred.
“See you made some changes since my last visit.” Alex quipped.
“Scoff not, boy. As soon you will be suffering with them.” Jamiesonn replied as he stepped forward and stood right infront of him.
“You said that last time and look what happened. I kicked your protoplasm ass all over this world of yours, and made you an example to all your captives.”
Jamiesonn glanced away for a moment, and then looked back at Alex. “Be that as it may hero, but take a look around. What you see is by my will.”
Alex glanced around and although he was surprised to know that everything had been restored to what it had been previously, he sure did not show the puzzlement.

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