Peter peter, pumpkin eater
It had been 7 months since he had moved into the Wimmera-Mallee town, some 836 inhabitants strong. Peace and quiet was prevalent, almost delightful but of course, all things change. The “Voices” had returned, in droves to be exact but this time around they were different from the previous incarnation of hideously wailing individuals. Back in the day, many years ago, he had been drugged by his neighbour and given Rohypnol so that he would not recall the event,Rohypnol, a drug that blocks the memory. Of course, needless to say he was quite insane after being drugged due to the nature of the drugged drink, but he had managed to regain his sanity some 18 years later after an intensive course of medication and later on a radical new treatment plan of his own devising.
January, perhaps February the voices reappeared, but instead of violent incoherent noise, this time they were quite audible and easily discernible. He wondered about the dramatic change in tone, content and meaning, at first they were interesting because of the fact that they made sense and introduced themselves by their name. So he listened for months and months and began concentrating on the voices that made the most sense, and over time he was able to devise a plan that would be of benefit to his well-being. Chaos and a random jumble of events began to take form, this was after some time, months to be exact, but he followed his nose and when he heard a good idea from one of the voices he acted on it, if it was of benefit to him. These well intentioned, good ideas were hard to discern from the cacophony of abuse that accompanied each and every day, but over time he began to use those ideas on the back of his own judicious approach to life and what fate dealt to the individual and was able to radically improve his life.
Early on in the piece he was assaulted, drugged and bashed as he lay sleeping in his own bed and unable to walk properly for about 6 weeks. It was after that event that he knew he would have to alter his lifestyle, change everything and adapt to the new paradigm. It took time, time to strengthen his defences, his security, his budget but over time he succeeded. He launched his own campaign of information in order to combat the incessant flood of disinformation that swirled around him, he told his story of what actually happened to him over the course of his lifetime and published it on the internet, just to stick it up his attackers.
August came around and the chaotic melee of abusive voices had died down, till there was one lone voice, chanting his dirty little lies. He listened till he had a name, a name that had been mentioned to him by one of the locals. This man and his gang of fellow criminals had been responsible for stalking and abusing several woman and children and their families over the preceding years, how many years and how many victims he did not know, but the families were driven out of town because they came from Melbourne, or they were different, or they had an ulterior motive. At this delivery of relevant information, he was assured that he was their current target and eventually ascertained that the local gang was in cahoots with the very same people who were responsible for numerous drugging schemes, sexual assaults and various other crimes perpetrated against himself.
He glanced at the clock, 8:43, adds up to a 15 which when 1 and 5 are added together adds up to a 6. It was deathly quiet and he could not hear a sound, save for the clacking of his keyboard as he typed. It sounded like they had retreated, were they regrouping, he thought not, they had chanted “Henry Banwell is a serial paedophile”, over and over again, even though there was no basis to this allegation and he listened as some of the voices rationalised the situation to some of the offenders and explained to those people why and how they were being used to serve the interests of a gang of serial, rapist, sex-trafficking individuals who were responsible for numerous violent sexual assaults ,primarily against women and children. How did he know this, because of the 3147 different articles handed to Police depicting young women being violently assaulted, photos, videos, chat room transcripts, names, etc., that he had found in his flatmates possessions that his flatmate left behind him, after he did a runner on him and left behind his junk and owing a lot of money in bills.
He knew where one of the stalkers lived, had his address and went and stood in front of his assailants house and returned home, pretty much just to ascertain that the information was correct. A few days later he gave him a toot-toot of his car horn as he drove past, just to let him know.
