Bag of Tricks

Darren Reynolds. I can say it over in my mind as many times as I like, but it still doesn’t sound right. It is my name, but it just doesn’t feel like me. After all, everyone calls me Sticky.
Yeah, Sticky, because my hands are so sticky. No, I don’t mean they are like tree branches or covered in glue. It’s just . . . when I see something that I really want, I can’t help it, I have to take it, things are always getting picked up with my sticky hands. Now, yeah, I know stealing is wrong. Mum, Dad and teachers have lectured to me about it for hours, but, hey, if people didn’t want stuff stolen, they would take better care of it. I look at the guy beside me.
Yeah, perfect example, I can see the wallet in his pocket, it’s sticking out so far, it’s pretty much going to fall out on its own. I easily, but carefully, slip my hand over and slide the wallet out.
See? He just wasn’t paying attention. I open the wallet and search around. That $50 note looks alright. I slip it into my own pocket and then put the guy’s wallet on the floor.
And here’s the most fun part. I tap him on the shoulder “Hey, man, you’ve dropped your wallet.”
The guy looks surprised and picks his wallet up off the floor,
  “Oh, thanks,” he says.
  “No worries.”
As he turns around, I can’t hide the smile on my face. Not only does he not know, but now I’m the nice, young fellow who found his wallet for him, he never suspected a thing. Fantastic. The bus stops and I look out to see the tall buildings of the City. Yep, my stop, I wonder where the guys are?
I stand up and follow the shuffling crowd off the bus. As people start spreading out to head off, I spot Charlie through the crowd.
  “Hey! What’r’ya doin’?” I call over.
  “Waitin’ for you, come on.” He says, obviously not wanting to waste any time. He almost drags me through the people to the centre of the Mall. “Phil said he’d be here.” He murmurs, looking over the crowds, “Why does EVERYONE have to meet at Hungry Jacks?”
  “Hey! You lot!” Phil suddenly calls over, from down the street, “You gotta check this out!”
When he gets close Charlie moves behind Phil and slaps him in the back of the head “Hey! Wha’s that for?” Phil grumbles. As Phil groans in pain, I can’t help but laugh, he got hit right in the back of the head.
  “We’re s’pose to be meeting here dingus, if you’d not come runnin’ up, we’d’ve been waiting here for hours.” Okay, even I know that’s a stupid reason, but what can I say? Charlie likes to hit people.
  “Whatever, I was just sayin’ that you should come check this guy out down here.” Before we learn anymore, Phil turns around and starts going back down the street.
  “Come on Sticky, either we follow him or we’ll lose him forever. We never can settle Phil down.”
I start jogging after Charlie down the street and soon enough I see a large crowd of people standing on the side of the street. Phil’s waiting just beside it.
  “Guys, look, it’s a magician!” Phil leads us around to the side of the crowd and we can just see through the people. The magician is around his forties, and he is wearing dark black pants, held up with red braces over a chequered shirt, and he has a black, short-brimmed hat on his head, and he’s standing on top of an upturned milk-crate so that all the people around him can see him. The magician reaches down into a large, brown leather bag by the foot of the milk-crate and pulls out a pack of cards.
  “Pick a card, any card.” He says, fanning out the deck toward the volunteer in front of him.
  “I think I know how to do that trick,” Charlie says behind me, suddenly chuckling.
  “This old coot has just bought a magic book, and now he’s trying to get money from it. It’s ridiculous.”
I had thought the magician was pretty cool, but now that he mentions it, these tricks are pretty ordinary, Charlie’s right.
  “Yeah,” I pipe up “I think I could do some better tricks than that.” I say
I turn back to Charlie to see him smiling,
  “Hey, that’s a good idea. Sticky, you’re pretty good at making things disappear, why don’t you show him how to really do magic.” The idea sounds pretty good to me, performing to such a big crowd.
  “Alright then, I will.” I turn back to the magician just as the crowd is applauding. Before he can start his next trick, I push through the crowd to where the magician is and stand right next to him. I notice some disapproving looks from the crowd, and the magician even looks down at me from on top of his crate.
  “Excuse me, do you wish to volunteer?” he asks
  “No,” I say, suddenly noticing the edge of a bright, yellow scarf sticking out from his pocket, “I’m here to do magic!” I waggle my empty fingers to the silent, stone-faced crowd and then walk behind the magician. As I pass, I easily slip the scarf from his pocket and scrunch it up into my fist.
  “Ta da!” I call as I throw the scarf up into the air with flourish and catch it as it floats back down.
Some of the people clap, but most keep staring coldly, I think I hear one person murmuring loudly ‘Attention-seeking fool . . .’. The magician clears his throat
  “Isn’t that my scarf?” he says , stepping off of the crate, looking slightly cranky. I hold it out for him to take back.
  “I guess so,” I say as he snatches it back and puts it into his pocket.
  “Then, you are merely a thief?!” he cries out. I can barely keep a straight face as he gets more mad.
But, suddenly, his face turns friendly and smiley again as he turns back to the audience.
  “You are a thief, but I am a better one!”
I stare at him, confused. Did I just become part of his act?
He turns me to face the crowd
  “Ready yourself,” he says. Then, as I am facing forward, he walks behind me. I don’t feel a thing, I know he hasn’t stolen anything. I turn to my other side to see him announce to the crowd
  “Okay, I have now stolen something from you!”
I really don’t get it, I know he hasn’t stolen anything.
  “What? Don’t think I’ve taken anything? Are you sure?”
I start to check my pockets, just in case, my wallet, the $50 note, my detention slip . . .
Suddenly, I hear the crowd burst out in laughter and I look up to the magician. He’s holding up a pair of underwear.
No . . . he couldn’t have . . .
I put my hand down and check, just to be sure. Yeah, they’re there, but . . .
The crowd is laughing, Charlie and Phil are laughing, even the magician is chuckling to himself. It was all just a trick, but these people would never believe me. I’ve been made a fool of.
I turn to walk away, but the magician stops me.
  “Oh, don’t forget to take these.” He says, stuffing the underwear in my hand. I just take them and saunter through the crowd. I step up to the laughing Charlie and Phil,
  “Now THAT’S a magic trick!” Phil screams, and it sends the two almost rolling on the floor in laughter.
  “I’m going home.” I say, turning away from Charlie and Phil,
  “Oh, come on! Just ‘cause you got outdone by a 50-year-old? Come on Phil, let’s leave him to sook.”
They wander off, still laughing to themselves as they go. I continue on down the street, headed for the train station.
Damn it! All those people laughing at me, it’s all that Magician’s fault, how dare he laugh at me.
I look down at the pair of knickers in my hand.
  “What kind of sick paedophile carries around a pair of undies anyway?” I say, throwing the underwear into a nearby bin. That sick, old man, I should get him back. He should still be performing, I could just . . .
I turn back to look up the street, but I see the crowd has spread out, the act is over. Just my luck. I continue back down the Mall, cross the street to the train station, and start making my way to the platforms. How am I gonna get him back? Maybe tomorrow I’ll show up and ruin all his tricks, tell everyone how they’re done . . . No, I’ll just seem like a crazy heckler . . .
Maybe I could start my own magic act and . . . No, that’s just stupid.
I pass through the station and see my train’s on the platform. People are already on the train, I’m gonna miss it if I’m not fast. I jump down the tiled steps and leap through the doors onto the train. Phew!
The doors slam shut behind me and the train begins to crawl it’s way along, slowly speeding up.
Damn, I lost my train of thought. Where was I? Damn it! I dunno how to get him back. Suddenly, my eye catches something just in front of me. A forty-year-old man wearing dark pants held up with red braces over a chequered shirt and a short-brimmed hat on his head. Just my luck . . .
It’s the Magician. The Magician is on my train. How did he get here before me? Oh, who cares, this is just too perfect. My mind is racing a mile a minute, the old man can’t even see me, because he’s facing towards the other side of the passenger car. This is the perfect chance, I can’t think of anything, there’s so much I could do, but what can I get away with?
I suddenly notice a bag at his feet. It’s large, bulky and made of weathered, brown leather. It’s his bag, the bag full of his magic tricks. I can’t help but smile. This guy does magic tricks for a living, he couldn’t do that very well if he didn’t have his magic trick bag, could he?
I look around. Nobody’s looking, it’s now or never. As naturally as possible, I lean over, hook my hand through the handle and stand back up straight. I nearly fall over from the weight of the bag, but nobody seems to notice me. No reaction from the Magician, this is the easiest steal of my life. Now to slowly walk away . . .
I slowly turn and start walking to the back door, tilting slightly from the weight of the bag. I check behind me, but the Magician doesn’t even notice, the deaf, old fool. I pass through to another carriage and shut the door behind me. I try not to smile too much, but I can’t help it. I can just imagine the look on the old guy’s face when he sees his bag is gone, possibly forever. The weight of the bag is nearly dislocating my arm, so I slowly place it on the floor. Damn, what’s in this thing? Bricks? I lean against the wall to stay standing as the train begins slowing down.
Oh, damn! This is my stop. I really should pay more attention when it comes to public transport.
I lean down and grab the bag again. Wow! It feels heavier than before, I nearly rip my arms off as I try to pick the bag up, how does that old guy do it? I walk quickly off the train, not so much so that I can be home quicker but rather so that my arms don’t fall off before I get there.
As I’m, quickly making my way home, I get a thought in my head. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see some of the tricks in here? I mean, that crowd in the City was pretty big, just imagine if I could get attention like that, it’d be awesome. I drop the bag by the front door as I grab my keys from my front pocket. I’m suddenly really anxious to see what’s in the bag. It’s so heavy, it probably holds hundreds of tricks. I throw the door open and drag the bag through to the living room.
Mum shouldn’t be home yet, I should have heaps of time to check this thing out. The living room is pretty much two sofas, a coffee table and a TV. I grunt with effort as I drop the bag onto the coffee table, I can swear I hear it almost crack from the weight. Wow, I slowly lean forward and look at the bag, I wonder what’s inside. I take the two handles and slowly start prying them apart . . .
BANG! I quickly spin around. It was just the front door closing. I almost chuckle at my foolishness. The door, what am I so afraid of? It’s just a bag right?
I turn back to the bag and continue prying it open. Inside, the first thing that catches my eye is a large book, it’s decorated with red and gold colouring. It must have all his magic tricks in it. I pick it out and read the cover:
Les Livre de Magique
& pour le Magicien entraîné ou le expérimenté prestidigitateur
I stare open-mouthed at the cover of the book,
  “French?!” I throw the heavy book onto the coffee table with a bang. “How the hell am I supposed to read a French Magic Book?!” I think for a moment. Perhaps it’s just a ruse, to stop people reading it. I flip through a few pages
disparaître sort . . . Sort de mille oiseau . . .
  “Damn it! Just my luck he’s an immigrant . . . French . . .” I slide the book from the table onto the floor in anger. But then a thought occurs “I don’t need a magic trick book to tell me how to work magic props, I’ll work it out myself . . .”
I look into the bag again. There’s a small, wooden rack full of glass jars, a few bundled up silk bags, all sorts of strange things all around it. I reach in and start to move stuff around, and I see an old-fashioned top-hat. It’s interesting because it isn’t crumpled even from being carried around in the bag, it must be a trick hat. I take it out and inspect it.
It weighs the same as an ordinary top-hat, at least I guess so because I’ve never seen one before.
I look at it all over, but I can’t see any secret compartments or hidden sleeves. It seems normal, but why isn’t it crumpled up? What’s it made of?
I hold it by the brim and tap it on the table. It knocks on the wood the same as a rock would.
  “What’s so good about a rock-hard top-hat?” Suddenly something white jumps out of the hat into my face. I jump back and start swiping at it with the hat.
  “HEY! Get off!” It flutters around the room madly then comes to a rest on the table, cooing softly. The perfectly white dove starts pecking at the coffee table.
  “Whoa, a dove out of a hat.” I look at the hat again. “Where the hell did it come out of?” no secret compartments, it’s too thin for a dove to have hidden inside of, and how did it come out anyway.
Cautiously, I lean over again and tap the table again with the hat, then point the opening away from me. Another dove flies out and circles the room before coming to rest beside the other dove.
  “Wow, now that’s magic.” As soon as I say it, I realise it sounds stupid, but it’s the only explanation.
  “Damn! That Magician is cheating! He’s using real magic.”
I drop the hat on the table and start searching through the bag again.
  “What else could be in here?”
My fingers grasp around something metal, like a wire-mesh. I pull it out and hold up a small, metal cage, which is just a bit bigger than a tissue box. It’s like what people use to hold guinea pigs or small pets in, but why does this guy have one?
I start fiddling with the cage. It’s pretty normal, the only thing that moves is the little hatch which opens so you can put the animal inside, I also see a little sign on the side of the cage which says:
Nibbles
  “I don’t get it.” I move to put the cage down on the table, but just before I put it down, suddenly it feels like it’s being pulled out of my hands.
It hits the table with a clang and starts . . .squealing?
I look down at the cage again, there’s a small, brown rabbit inside, and it seems a little upset about being dropped. “How the hell did you get in there?” I lean down and look at the rabbit. It’s definitely real. I look into its black, beady eyes. Suddenly there is a faint pop!
The cage is empty. I stand back up and look at the empty cage
  “Oh my god, a disappearing bunny.” With another pop! Nibbles the Bunny reappears in the cage.
  “For the Rabbit in the Hat trick, I get it.” I pick the cage up, I can now feel the weight of the rabbit in the cage. “This is too cool, what else is there?”
I move to put the rabbit back on the table, but realise that there isn’t any room. The table is covered with a dozen cooing doves.
  “What in the world?” I see a thirteenth dove suddenly jump out of the hat and join the rest.
  “Hey, Get off!” I shoo them off and send the doves flying all around the room, spreading feathers and such. I put the now empty cage back on the table, then grab the hat and flip it over so that the opening is face down. “There, that should do it.” I turn back to the bag. I reach in and grab one of the little, silk bags.
  “What’s in these?” I undo the little draw-string and reach into the bag. Inside are just three rubber balls. “These must just be ordinary props.” I pack the bag back up, put it back and grab another bag. It has a pack of cards, another holds a small coil of rope.
  “Boring.” I move to get more stuff but I’m distracted by a shrill squealing from the small rabbit cage.
Nibbles is fidgeting back and forth in the small cage. “How could that cruel old coot keep you locked up in a cage so small?” I say, surprised myself how caring I sound for a freak-of-nature vanishing bunny. I open the cage and take the little bunny out, holding it carefully in my hands, it feels so soft.
Suddenly, it disappears with a pop!
Hmmm, that’s a weird feeling. I decide to let Nibbles roam free, and so I turn back to the bag.
Stuff the props, where’s another magic spell. I move the stuff around, looking for another good trick. Then I see it. A small, black stick hidden within the little bags. Along the stick in small silver letters it says:
Léviterbaton
  “What the hell does that mean? Is this a magic wand?” I take out the stick and try waving it around.
Nothing seems to happen.
I try to bend the stick, but it seems to be just as strong as the hat.
Then I think . . . that hat worked when I tapped it on the table . . .
I lower the stick and give it a sharp tap! on the table.
I stand up straight and wait to see what happens. The table seems to be moving, I lean closer. It seems to move more . . .
Suddenly the bag starts to slide off the table. I jump forward to catch it, but as I grab it, birds start flying in all directions from the table. I stand perfectly still and wait for the birds to settle down. What startled them?
Then I see the table, it’s standing on two legs, now with the top-hat and Nibble’s cage on the floor. What the heck? What did that wand do. I put the bag back on the ground and bring the wand up to my face.
CRASH! the table flies up and slams into the ceiling, cracking the plaster and smashing the light.
  “ . . .Whoa . . .” I look at the wand again. I moved the wand up, and the table went up . . .
  “The wand moves stuff! Cool!” I slowly lower the wand and make the table float back to the ground, to reveal the large crack in the ceiling and the broken light.
  “Damn! I’ll have to deal with that later . . .” I jiggle the wand and watch the table shiver.
  “Really cool . . .” But how do I stop it? I point the wand down and walk closer. As I get close enough, I let the wand go. The wand drops on the table, it seems to have stopped.
  “What else is in there?”
I turn to move back to the bag, only to realise my path is blocked by a flock of cooing doves.
I wave my arms to move them out of my way and slowly make my way back to the bag.
As I finally get to the bag and start to move things around, Nibbles appears inside the bag with a pop!
  “Come here you,” I say picking it up “You stay out of there, maybe I should put you back in your cage?” at that, Nibbles wiggles his nose and disappears, pop!
Then I start thinking again, I don’t usually think so much in the afternoons.
  “This is full of magic tricks . . . so that French Magic Book . . .”
The book is sitting on the floor besides the now slightly cracked coffee table, that could be filled with some crazy cool magic tricks, maybe even something that can fix the roof and the coffee table.
I shuffle through the doves toward the book and pick it up.
  “I can only hope I can understand some of this French . . .”
I start flipping through the book, all the pages are slightly crinkled around the edges, but all the words are there, all the freakishly twisted French words. I look at one page that catches my eye because it is so short and I understand most of the words:

Sort du Vivre

Appliquer Transition Potion sur la animal apprivoisé. Ensuite agiter Léviterbaton au-dessus de désir objet (par exemple – table) à l’époque réciter:

Unir le vie tu le n’est pas vie

“Okay ‘Transition Potion’; ‘Animal’; ‘Leviter baton’; ‘Table’ and ‘Recite’. That sounds simple enough, I just got so see if he’s got this ‘Transition Potion’ and we’re in business.”

I close the book as I turn around, wander through the thickening flock of doves and look in the bag again. The small wooden rack catches my eye, and so I grab it and pull it out. It’s like a wooden toolbox, but it seems to be full of small, glass jars and bottles. On the side it reads:
Magique Potion Étagère: N’est pas pour public utilisation
  “Magic Potion ‘Etager’, this sounds like what I need.” I say, opening it up.
Each little bottle is about as tall as my thumb, with many variations on shape and width
& . . . séparer breuvage . . . Vingt-Minute Poison . . .
  “Ah, here it is, ‘Transition Potion’” the bottle is like a tiny, little wine bottle, it’s even got green-tinted glass like they have, except it has a small bottle cap instead of a cork. I close up the case, put it back in the bag and close it tight, just to be safe. Then I open the book and look at it again
  “ ‘Appliquer’? I guess that means apply . . . to an animal, what animal? Where’s that rabbit?”
I start to look around, but think to ignore it, because there is a flock of doves at my feet, and it would be too hard to catch Nibbles, he moves too fast.
  “Well, I hope this gets one of you . . .” I say, flicking the bottle around. The small amount of bright, green liquid spills out over the doves, and when it hits them, the birds start fluttering around again, flying in all directions, spreading out.
“Whoa, that definitely got some . . .” I say, turning back to the book “ ‘Leviter baton’ . . . where’d I leave it?” I slowly push my way through the birds, it’s now getting harder to move through the flock without stepping on them, I have to be careful. Eventually I get to the coffee table with the ‘Leviter baton’ and pick it up.
  “ ‘Leviter baton’; ‘Table’ and ‘Reciter’ . . . Okay, I’ll just.”
I start waving the wand over the table, making it shiver slightly, and start reading out the words in the book as best as I can
  “ You-near, lee vie too lay nest pass vie!” I say. Suddenly, there is a loud BANG! like a balloon popping, and the room starts raining white feathers. “Oh no! I think I killed all the birds!” I drop the magic book on the floor and start making my way through the feathers, which are slowly settling onto the ground. I can’t find the birds, it just seems to be their feathers . . .
Suddenly, all the feathers settle like a blanket over the living room “I made all the birds disappear . . . huh?”
I walk through the carpet of feathers, when I hear something like shuffling behind me. I quickly turn around . . . Nothing there but the couch. Was it always that close to the coffee table?
Then I hear shuffling from the front of the room.
I turn just as the noise stops to see the television . . . did it just move?
I move slowly closer to it to touch it . . .
I lightly place my hand on the television . . .
Suddenly, the television runs sideways out of my grasp and around the room to group up with the couch, which starts shuffling along to make room for it.
  “Holy mother of . . . the furniture is alive.” The coffee table starts edging its way towards the bag and magic book, which are now in the centre of the room.
  “Hey NO!” I shout running forward.
As I approach, the table recoils to group up with the TV and the two couches.
  “Now Stay Back!” They seem harmless so far, but I’m guessing that being run down by a couch is equivalent to being run down by a small rhinoceros.
I lean over to the bag, when I hear a faint pop! and look up in time to see Nibbles the Bunny appear on top of the table.
The coffee table starts shivering in fear . . .
  “Oh No!” I scream, grabbing the bag, just as the table runs straight at the wall, in effort to get the bunny off. Nibbles safely disappears in time to avoid the collision . . . BANG!
The loud noise sets all the furniture off in blind panic, and they start running around the room.
I run as fast as I can out of there, in time to hear the sudden cacophony of collisions
BANG! CRASH! BOOM!
I turn around and look at the living room, the furniture is destroying itself and its shredding up the walls by ramming them in the manic furniture stampede.
  “They’re going to take the house down if I’m not careful . . . How do I stop it?” I start to recall.
When I did that spell, the doves disappeared, then the furniture started moving . . . the doves must have somehow become part of the furniture . . . I’ve got to separate the furniture from the doves . . . yeah, separate . . . didn’t I see something like that?
I drop the bag, rip it open and take the potions ‘etager’ back out. I open it up and start scanning the little shelves
& . . . arc-en-ciel peau lotion . . . changer le face . . . séparer breuvage.
  “AH! Here it is! ‘Seperar Brewvidge’ sounds like ‘separating potion’ to me.”
The thin, vial-like bottle seemed to be filled with bright-red paint, and was corked with a little, rubber stopper.
  “I’ll just put this stuff on the furniture, and the birds should come out . . . I hope.”
I try to take the little stopper off . . . but it’s hard to get a grip on the little bottle.
I hold it tight in one hand . . . crunch!
The red liquid squirts out as the vial crushes in my hand and squirts out over me, even some of the glass cuts into my palm
  “AH! Damn, that hurts, and this stuff tastes like turpentine . . .”
I rush into the kitchen and put my hand into the sink and start the water running. The stuff seems to wash off easily, taking the glass shards with it into the sink. As the water’s running, I look over at the living room door, which leads from the kitchen into the side of the living room. I can see some of the feathers fluttering out through the door, obviously stirred up by the furniture running around.
Suddenly, something cold, wet and metallic slaps into the back of my hand. I look down at my hand to see what it is . . and I nearly scream
  “Oh my god! Where’s my hand!” at the end of my wrist, where my hand usually is, there is slightly rounded stump. I look into the sink, and see my hand is lying under the running water at the bottom of the sink.
  “Oh No!” I try wiggling my fingers, and the hand in the sink obeys. “Oh, gross!” I grab my hand out of the sink. It’s so strange, I feel like I’m holding my hands together, but it’s not connected.
  “Damn, it’s the separating potion!” I quickly wipe my hand off with a towel, which is hard without two hands, and start searching through the kitchen drawers for something to keep it together.
I find some masking tape and put it on the kitchen bench.
  “PERFECT!” I say, as I pick it up, suddenly the world start to topple over . . . oh no!
I grab tight on both sides of my head with my hand and my . . . stump.
  “Not my head! No!”
I hold my head straight with my handless arm and start wrapping the masking tape around my head.
I go around about five times and let my head go.
It feels a little crooked . . . oh god!
I take the tape and start taping my hand back on, when I feel something cold and hard slap against my thigh, and I lose my balance. I fall onto my backside and see my right leg, from the knee down has disconnected and is sitting on its side.
  “I’m falling apart faster than I can fix myself!”&  I scream, scrambling over to my leg and setting it back in place with the sticky tape. I wrap it around and around, when my left arm, at the elbow, hits the floor right on my funny bone.
  “AAGH! This is hell!” I scream. I try to peel the tape off one handed by using my teeth, but that nearly dislocates my head again, so I try using my fingers to slowly pry it out. I finally re-attach my arm when my left foot falls off and slaps into the tiles.
I try to get more tape, but the roll is empty.
  “No, no no no no no . . .” I grab my foot in one hand and start walking, with one leg shorter than the other, and the other held straight by masking tape, hobbling back to the front entry for the magic bag. I lie down next to the potion rack thing and start scanning through it.
  “Come on, there has to be a fixing potion!” I look through the rack and quickly pick up a little, white bottle which looks like a small jar which says: Solution Potion
I quickly pop the cap and swallow it. It tastes like olive oil. I swallow it, but it feels really strange, and seems to get stuck in my throat.
I try to swallow, but it feels like it’s choking me. I lean forward and cough it up, spilling it onto the tiles. No! It won’t work! My head isn’t connected to my body! I can’t swallow it!
Suddenly, behind me, I see the coffee table charging into the hallway.
  “No!” I scream.
If that thing runs into me, It’ll snap the masking tape apart and I’ll never fix myself!
I can’t try running around the house, I’ve got to get out of here!
I quickly jump up (as best as I can at the moment) and quickly hop out the front door and slam it shut behind me in time to hear something CRASH! into it.
I look down the driveway, and see something I wasn’t expecting.
A forty-year-old man wearing dark pants held up with red braces over a chequered shirt and a short-brimmed hat on his head. The Magician.
  “Hey! It’s YOU!” I shout, I try to point, but the masking tape is too loose, and my hand dangles lamely toward the ground.
The Magician chuckles to himself.
  “I see you’ve found my magic bag.” He says, smiling “You’re really quite amusing, I especially enjoyed the part when you tried to read French, very amusing.”.
  “You!” I scream “You have to fix this!”
  “Have to fix this? You made this mess all on your own, why should I fix this?” I know he’s right, but I don’t dare say that.
  “Please then, you can’t leave me like this!” I says, my head becoming more crooked by the second, and I even feel my right shoulder starting to loosen.
  “Alright then, I guess I’ll fix it . . .” The Magician claps his hands together, and there’s a blinding white light. I hear a loud scraping like a million chairs being scraped across the floor as the house rearranges itself and banging and clanging as the walls fix themselves. Suddenly, I feel my whole body tingle and start to straighten out. My bones start cracking as they connect back together. And finally, I’m whole again. The light dissipates and I look over at the magician.
  “There, both you and your house are fixed again. However, you stole my magic bag.” He says, suddenly frowning, “I’m afraid that’s very bad.”
I feel my whole stomach start to turn, this must be that ‘guilt’ thing
  “Uh . . . I’m really sorry Mr . . . Magician, I won’t do it again.”
The Magician waves his hand, and the front door opens and the magic trick bag starts floating out
  “Oh, I know you won’t. See, you stole my magic bag, you know my secret . . . and I can’t have that, if people knew that I was a real magician, things would get very . . . difficult.” He takes hold of the bag, and with a faint pop! Nibbles the Bunny appears on his shoulder, twitching his nose.
  “I said I was sorry.” I say, trying to sound as apologetic as possible
  “Sorry isn’t good enough my boy.” He says, walking up to me so that he is just a metre away.
  “You’ve been stealing for quite a long time, but today, you stole from the wrong person. I’m afraid that, now that you know my secret, I can’t let you stay. You’re going to have to disappear.”
Oh no, by his face I can tell he is serious
  “But, I’m sorry.” I mumble weakly
  “No, dear boy. I’m sorry.” The magician raises his hand, and clicks his fingers. And with that, in that second, in that very instant, the boy known as Darren Reynolds . . . disappeared.
The Magician sighs deeply “Oh, Nibbles, children these days, how will they ever learn . . .” He turns down the driveway and begins walking toward the road, as he walks, he begins to fade into nothingness, until finally, the Magician, Nibbles and the Bag of Tricks . . . were gone.

THE END

The Pain Game

We find ourselves two nights before Halloween, and with just two more posts before we find ourselves at All Hallow's door. Well, one post after you've finished reading this one . . .
I originally planned to write a post all about how certain traumatic incidences can result in specific psychological trauma. However, after doing some research, I came to realize that my conclusion: "do this, and it will result in that" was wrong.
I will explore this in the future, do more research and see if I can write it properly. However, it's currently Monday the 29th of October, and I have a blog post to write. So, realizing that it was just two days from Halloween, I was reminded of a post I wrote a long time ago about my personal experience with the theme of the Countdown. That year, the theme was "bloody" and confronting one's own mortality, so I wrote The AWN'S Top 5 Personal Near-Death Experiences, and told you about five times that I nearly died.

Since this year is about pain, suffering and Torture, this year, I've done some personal reflection, and I have come up with the five most painful injuries that I've ever sustained. Now, after creating this list, I realized that I live a rather privileged life. In fact, I said at the very beginning of this year's Countdown:

"And as someone who has lived a very privileged life - privileged enough to have earned 27 years of it so far - pain isn't something that I encounter in my life. At least, not pain inflicted upon me, anyway."

- The Absurd Word Nerd, The Torment of Tartarus, 2018

The thing is, this is very true. Sure, I've chipped a tooth, I've been electrocuted, I've had a root canal (in that same tooth), I've been in a fight before & I think I may have had a concussion, although I don't remember it very well . . .
But, not only are all of these not on this list because they didn't actually hurt that much at the time, but I spoke with my parents just to be sure I wasn't forgetting anything and I have confirmed with them: I have never been bitten by an animal larger than an insect, I have never broken a bone in my body, I have never been hospitalized & even with my mental illnesses, I've never self-harmed.
Genuinely, before I sat down, and managed to jog my memory, "gas pains" and "sunburn" were on this list. I left off gas pains because that's not really an injury, but Sunburn was on a list of the worst pain I've ever experienced. And yeah, it was nasty-looking sunburn, but the point that I'm making is that this is a personal list, it isn't a contest . . . but, the reason I called this is "The Pain Game" (besides the fact that it sounded cool) is because, if you want to, you can make it a contest if you'd like. Feel free to write your own list of the most painful physical injuries that you've experienced in your life, and share your pain with the world. Until then, this is . . .

The Absurd Word Nerd's Top 5 Most Painful Injuries (That I Have Experienced)

5. Carbon Fibre Splinters
Incident: Have you ever been inside of a roof? Not just under the ceiling, but inside the roof of a house? I have, a few times, but one of the worst was definitely in my current home (at time of writing). We decided to put in an attic, for the sake of storage, so we installed a ladder (yes, it turns out you can just buy roof access ladders), and my father put down boards for the floor, and some shelves, and ta-da, we had an attic. Now, we helped of course, by cleaning up a little, and my brother helped to organize our network cables so that they weren't under the boards, and he also helped put in the ladder. After the ladder was installed, I helped the set up the shelves, and clean up the roofspace.
But, whoever had installed our roofing insulation had been incredibly lazy, and just kinda chucked big slabs of fibreglass insulation, also known as "glass wool" around the roof. So, even though I never laid my hands on it directly, the little fibres were everywhere, and that afternoon when I climbed down, I realized that my hands were stinging. We eventually swept and even vacuumed up there, and made sure that the fibres were gone. The only real way to get it out is to use sticky-tape, but it took me two days, and several attempts with the sticky-tape roll, to remove every single fibre from my hand.
The Pain: Fibreglass is what it sounds like, glass that's turned into thin fibrous strands. So, essentially, my hands were being impaled by hair-thin shards of glass. Don't get me wrong, there's a reason why I say I'm privileged, this is not the worst pain in the world, but if you have just one of these fibres in your hand, it hurts a lot, because they're quite rigid, so every time you move your hand, you will feel the fibre move inside your skin, which is a sting that is not entirely unlike the feeling of being bitten by a small ant, so having it all over my palms, and between my fingers, was very painful.

4. 11-Hour Walk
Incident: My friend Sean and I do some silly things sometimes, and one time, out of boredom, we decided to go for a walk. I had some vague notion that I was going to see a friend but we didn't really have a goal. So, even though neither of us had slept, we both decided "fuck it" and so we just left my place and started walking North, with a map in my pocket and nothing else. It was an interesting time, because we actually encountered some obstacles which we had to overcome, and on more than one occasion we got lost, but after eleven hours of walking, we were nearly at our destination, and our feet hurt a little bit, and we were both tired. So, we both sat at a picnic table and fell asleep. I don't know how long we slept for, but when we eventually woke up, we decided to stand up, and when we did, our feet hurt like hell.
The Pain: I don't entirely understand the mechanism, I think that because humans are supposed to walk, when we walk for a long time, our body must numb the pain. I'm sure you've had the experience of sitting down and realizing that you can't stand up again because your feet hurt too much? Well, we did, but we did after walking for eleven hours. After you've walked for eleven hours, every step feels like you're walking barefoot over sharp gravel, and your feet are hot and throbbing the entire time. The worst part is that at the time, we still needed to get home. So, we were actually stuck until Sean decided to walk to the train station. So, we had to walk about half a kilometre to the train station. That was the hardest part of the whole journey.

3. The Stomach Pinch
Incident: My grandmother used to live in a house in Grafton, with a big garden out the back, a huge shed, and beside a caryard. It was a lovely house, but for some reason after living in it for several years, she installed a gate by the stairs leading from the back patio to the backyard. I don't know why she bothered, it was just two or three steps, and nobody had tripped on it before. Maybe it was because my grandfather had dementia and she didn't want him to walk out. Maybe it was to stop the kids from heading outside, maybe it was to keep the dogs out - I honestly don't know, I don't even know if she still had dogs at that point. What I do know is that, it went across the top of steps, and the gap was about a metre and a half across. So, to make sure that the gate folded away neatly, it had a hinge in the middle as well as on the side, which you could unbolt.
Because my brothers, cousins and I were stupid, little kids, we really liked playing on that gate, by standing on the lower bars and opening it. If you unlocked the middle bolt, then opened the gate, it would feel like you were floating, since it would swing open, but you'd turn on the hinge . . . this was before everyone had iPhones, and we had to make our own fun. We would play on it all the a time, but parents would yell at us because "it's not a toy", so of course we had to do it when they weren't looking. One day, I was heading to the shed to join my brothers or something - I think they were doing something with the car, I can't remember. What I do remember is that I stood in the middle of the gate, unlocked it, and swing. But, I heard someone coming, so I quickly pushed off the wall to close it, and straightened the gate whilst I was leaning on it. and some of my skin just under my bellybutton caught in the metal hinge as it closed.
The Pain: It's hard to describe, because it was definitely a pinch - if you've been pinched, you know what that feels like - but it actually tore out a little chunk of my flesh, and I still have the scar today, a little round spot about the size of a fingernail. Because it ripped out so quickly, it actually felt like I'd been punched in the stomach, and I remember stepping back from the gate and doubling over. It throbbed and was sore for the rest of the day, and even once it started to heal and scab over, there was a bruise on my stomach around the wound. It didn't bleed, but it hurt for a week, and when I first picked the scab off, it was gross to see that it literally had ripped my skin out, since there was a little concave hole where skin was, and now wasn't. It grew back, but I know how much it hurt because even though I don't know how old I was, or what else happened that day, I remember that pain.

2. Getting Foot Stitches
Incident: When I was younger, my uncle had a boat and a few times, he invited us to go with him to some publicly-accessible river somewhere, we usually had picnics and went swimming, it was fun. But, one thing we sometimes did is that, beside the river, there was also a big mud puddle, near the mangroves. It was fun playing in it, and slopping around, because you could just walk in the river to wash it all off, then keep playing or doing whatever. I'd played in the mud several times before, but when I headed in to join my cousin, as I stepped into the mud, I felt something happen to my foot. The best way I can describe it is, imagine you're thirsty, so you're about to take a drink of water, but before you gulp, the water suddenly disappears, and you gulp air. That's what it was like, I was going to take a step through the mud, but instead of touching the ground, I felt something, and it felt weird, so I pulled my foot out, and as I moved, my foot hurt. So, I limped into the river to wash the mud away, and saw that the water around my foot was stained red. I'd cut my foot. That, in and of itself, didn't hurt much. I think it throbbed a little, but my aunt told me to elevate my foot, which I did, and Dad organized for me to get to the GP. What hurt wasn't the damage, but what they did to fix it.
The Pain: We went to the nearest doctor, still in my swimming gear. Since I didn't know what I'd stepped on, I got a tetanus shot and some other things, but then they lay me on my stomach, applied some anaesthetic, then started stitching my foot. The thing is, either because my foot was cut open, or because the doctor hadn't put the anaesthetic in right, I felt some of the stitches. Unfortunately, the way it feels is exactly the same way it sounds - it felt like someone was stabbing my foot with a needle. But, it was made worse by the fact that it was in a spot that was already throbbing, and because I wasn't allowed to flinch. I had to bear the pain. I remember that my way of coping with the pain was rapid-fire, bad puns - to get my mind off the pain, I just tried to think of something funny to say. It didn't help much, though, as I still remember how much it hurt to have someone stick a curved needle in my foot, six times.

1. The Forearm Burn
Incident: As part of Work for the Dole, I volunteered at several venues. There was some administration and data entry work, but mostly I worked hospitality because I had a certificate in hospitality, and experience with it. So, one of the gigs I got was as one of the cooks and helping hands at the Salvation Army, Bayside. It was a church, but it also helped to feed people, as there were a few people who struggled to afford food. We would give people tea and coffee, as well as some food, and even made dinners which could be frozen, and given to people. We relied pretty heavily on foods that were donated to us from businesses that either couldn't sell them, or had excess. So, one day, we got two large slabs of meat - I think they were pork and beef, but they were huge, and perfect for roasting. We had an oven, a little gas-fire thing - basically there's just a tube full of holes in the bottom that leak gas, you light them and that cooks the food. This oven was quite small, so we had to take out all but one of the racks just to fit this thing in, and to make sure that it didn't stick to the oven, we put aluminium foil over it. So, we put it in, we cook it, and it cooks beautifully. So, we go to take it out. However, as we take it out, we realize that it's actually changed shape slightly, so the foil is sticking up, and as we pull it, the grill plate is pulling off the foil. So, to make sure it doesn't wreck the roast, I get the tongs and help it slip under the lip. So, we manage to slowly but surely pull it out. However, halfway through, a rogue piece of foil falls off, and lands right on the fire of that gas pipe I described before. In a split second, I realize that it could potentially melt and fill up the holes in the pipe - ruining the oven. So, quick as a flash, I reach in the tongs and snap up the foil, but in the process I touched the grill-plate.
The Pain: A burn is an insidious injury. When I touched the hot metal, it hurt, but when I pulled it back, it didn't feel too bad. I actually felt pretty good, since I'd saved the oven (I did research, and aluminium melts at about 660 °C, and the flame in a gas oven burns at over 1950 °C, so if I hadn't done what I did it easily could have melted and damaged the oven).
Because I know you have to, I ran it under the tap, and told the supervisor who went to get a first-aid kit. I stopped the tap, and it felt fine, so when they offered cream, I said "okay, sure, but it doesn't hurt that bad", but the supervisor told me that the burn looked red and angry. So, they put on the cream and sent me home. I didn't understand all the fuss . . . but then I started driving home. On the drive home, I don't know whether the cream wore off, or if my body just decided that it would stop numbing the area, but the burn on my arm suddenly felt like it was on fire, it was boiling hot, and as I drove it got worse and worse. I rolled up my sleeve to make sure it wouldn't touch it, and I remember as I drove, I kept yelling and swearing at my steering wheel, because for some reason it helped take my mind off the pain. There was no throbbing or stinging, it was just pure heat, I felt like I was being branded - and by some definitions, I think I had been. I am lucky that when we got home my mother had a numbing gel for burns and cuts in the cabinet, because painkiller pills didn't do anything at all. And that's the most painful injury that I've ever experienced.


Anyway, that's my list. Again, I know that I'm lucky I've had to suffer so little throughout my lifetime. Perhaps this is part of the reason why I feel like psychological horror is more powerful to me, because the things I've suffered as a result of mental illness are much worse than my physical pains.
If you asked me whether I would prefer to burn myself again or have a panic attack - and I had to choose one of the other - I would turn on the oven myself. But, I don't know if that would be true if I'd also experienced greater physical suffering.

But, do you know what this makes me think of? My fingernail is purple . . .
I am a Polished Man, still, and I will continue colouring my nail until the end of the month. As well, afterwards I will continue to support the ideals of the campaign, about leading by example and .
But, this list reminds me that this is what I want for children, everywhere. Yeah, a scratch here and a burn there, maybe sore feet . . . but, most of these injuries are just incidental - heck three of them happened because I hurt myself while having fun. Like I said, your personal pain shouldn't be a contest, but in a just world I would win that contest, because in a just world, children wouldn't be victims of rape, assault and murder. Because it shouldn’t hurt to be a child.
Anyway, this list is just for fun, it's not meant to be another part of the Polished Man campaign. I would like you to donate to myself or others, but the main point if this list is because I kept talking about the pains other people have suffered - so, I wanted to reflect on my own.
I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, these are just some of the experiences I've collected throughout my lifetime. I'm sure there will be many more to come in the future, but with any luck they won't make the list . . .

The Hunter's Guide to Monsters - Chapter Eleven

We have seen what horrors have come down to us from the heavens, but what lurks in the dark holes of the world? Tonight, we explore the horror of being frozen in place, as teeth, claws and piercing eyes come slithering ever-closer. Such tortures come to us, courtesy of the 'GORGON':

Gorgon /'gawgən/ n. 1. Greek Legend Any of the three sisters whose heads were coverd with snakes instead of hair, and whose glance turned the beholder to stone. 2. A mean, ugly, or repulsive woman.

11. Gorgons
  by Hunter Jeremiah

I have never Hunted a gorgon, myself. However, this chapter is based on the expertise of experienced Hunters, and I have seen gorgons in captivity and whilst they were being transferred, so I assure you that what you're about to read is based on the knowledge of those who have first-hand experience, even though I myself have very little. The gorgon, or “a medusa” as it is sometimes known, is a dark cohesion of a human and a serpent.
Some believe that this hybrid is the result of a human cursed to gorgonism through some dark magic. Others believe that it is the result of praying to a false god, and being punished. Personally, I believe that gorgons are incredibly dangerous, so it doesn't matter where they are from, all that matters is what we do when they get here. Gorgons are incredibly dangerous. Not only is their vision captivating, but they are quite cunning, their bodies are very strong and they have sharp, venomous fangs.
If you step inside the gorgon's lair, and face the beast with serpent-hair, avert your gaze and do not stare - or you'll never get out alive.

The gorgon is native to Europe and some parts of Asia, as they prefer a warm climate but nest in dry, cool rocky areas, often in caves and mountains with access to warm sunlight and water. In Europe, they are mostly known as "gorgons", "basilisks" "lamia", "pythons" or "typhons", but across Asia they are known as "naga", "nugua" & "nure-onna". They have been seen internationally, but this is due to travelling bestiaries, as well as black market smugglers. They cannot survive outside of their native habitat due to the fact that they are cold-blooded and unable to survive in tropical climates. Also, due to the high danger that they pose, any and all gorgon nests that pop up outside of Europe tend to be destroyed rather quickly by Hunters.
The reason why gorgons are so dangerous comes from their frightening gaze. It is a misconception that gorgons can turn a person to stone with their vision - such alchemy is beyond them - rather, their icy stare is capable of transfixing any victim that looks them in the eye. This is a powerful psychic phenomenon, akin to a form of mind control, but with the sole capacity to make someone become as still as a statue, and only for as long as the gorgon keeps their gaze steady. It is not yet known if the limits of this ability are metaphysiological, or due to the gorgon's limited intelligence, but many suspect that it is the latter.
What is truly dangerous is the bite of the gorgon - they have a very powerful venom which causes paralysis, hypothermia and intense pain, and leads to death anywhere between 15-minutes and 3-hours after being bitten, depending on the location of the bite. There is, as yet, no anti-venom for the bite of a gorgon, and some suspect that there is a supernatural aspect to its potency, but this is still being researched.

A gorgon looks like a very large, very long snake with a human torso in place of the head. I have seen mature gorgons which, from head-to-tail, measure ten metres, but I have been told that some exist which are fifteen metres long, or perhaps more. They are covered with scales, from head to foot, and are most commonly dark green, but they have been yellow, red, orange & black - the specimen which I saw happened to be an albino gorgon (incredibly rare), which had white and cream-coloured scales. From the waist, up, or slightly higher along the spine, the scales are much smaller, smoother and usually a colour akin to human skin tone. Although they are not human, their skin does make them look much like human men and women from the waist up, unless you looked at them up close. At the tips of their fingers, they tend to have small, white, sharp climbing claws, like that of a lizard. As well, they have retractable, venom-injecting fangs in their mouth, where one would expect canines. Their most iconic feature is that their scalp grows "snakes" of varied sizes, usually between shoulder and waist-length, and always with scales the same colour as their tail.
The latest research has found that gorgons not only are gorgons capable of seeing through the multiple eyes of their "serpent hair", or "prehensile vibrissae" as the researchers referred to them, were in fact a complex set of sensory organs which can see, smell and hear in multiple directions at once. Researchers are currently investigating the structure of the gorgon's skull, and how these sensory organs affect their psychic abilities.

One of the most unusual features of the gorgon is that they are capable of vocalization. Some captive gorgons are capable of very basic, influent human language, but most gorgons speak their own language known as "Nagee" (or "Gorgonese", by some Hunters) with two known regional dialects of nagee: Western and Eastern. Eastern Nagee is the most well-understood, as it has been researched in India for a very long time, and Western Nagee is quite similar, but research is limited in this field due to a lack of interest in the community. Their language is composed of harsh, breathy vocalizations, which sounds like clucking, hissing and purring. This is a very limited language, with less than twelve-thousand recorded words in Eastern Nagee, but it developed due to gorgons being a very social species. They are monogamous, often remaining with the same mate until one of the pair dies, and the pair will raise their young until their children can find mates of their own.
Although gorgons do not feed often, as it would take a gorgon a month to digest a "full stomach", but they can be very dangerous when they are hungry. Not only is their gaze petrifying and their venom deadly, but gorgon tails are essentially pure muscle, and incredibly strong. With their long, powerful tails they can move with sudden speed, climb trees and easily crush victims with their tail. In fact, once their prey is dead, they tend to wrap around and constrict it, so that it is easier to swallow.
The only other unusual feature about gorgons is that they are scared of bison, yak and buffalo. I was told that this is because those are big animals with horns and eyes on either side of their head, meaning that they are not as vulnerable to a gorgon's stare, and can attack them - so, presumably, this means that a gorgon would also be scared of other similarly large, horned animals such as bulls, deer and mooses. I'm not certain of this, but it's a reasonable assumption.

Like I said at the start of this post, I haven't faced a gorgon myself, and this is because they are not native to my area. However, even before I began writing this guide, I travelled to Asia to learn about some of their local monsters. Although I haven't faced a gorgon, the insight I gained there has been invaluable, and helped me to face other creatures in my duties as a hunter. So, whether you, yourself, are at risk of facing a gorgon, it is important to know how to handle yourself when confronting these dangerous beasts.

Protection
If you believe that you are encroaching upon a gorgon's nest, or fear that you or your neighbours are at risk from a gorgon that has come to your area, here are some methods to keeping yourself safe:

• Hiss, Purrs & Whispers - When gorgons speak, they have a very distinct-sounding language, very breathy and harsh. If you hear someone speaking in Nagee, turn and walk away.
• Keep Your Eyes To Yourself - Direct eye contact is a death sentence, so only view them indirectly. A mirror, a camera or a cloth across your eyes can protect you from their glare.
• Let There Be Light - Gorgons are not very clever, the light can blind them, and due to their cold-bloodedness, they avoid heat. A torch could save your life.
• Lose Your Patience - A gorgon can last a week without water and a month without food. So, if you think one is near, don't try to hide, just get out of there.
• Salt and Vinegar - Gorgons have a powerful sense of smell, and sensitive skin, so they like to avoid reactive substances like alcohol, salt, vinegar, 
• Sink or Swim − If you know how to swim, swimming far from the water's edge will keep you safe. Gorgons are heavy, can't swim and cold-blooded, they won't swim after you.
• Turn and Run - Although fast, gorgons tire quickly; you can't outrun them, but you can outlast them. So, if you're in range, run away and don't turn back.
• When in Rome - Where gorgons are native, the locals have lived there for thousands of years alongside them. They must be doing something right, so follow the example of the locals.

Hunting
Because they are yet another endangered species, gorgons in their homeland are protected, and if you find one, you're required to catch and release. However, I don't live in their homeland, and everywhere else in the world, no such protections exist. The only reason you would need to capture a gorgon in a country other than their native Europe or Asia is if the person that the creature belongs to is the one hiring you to find it. But, in every other case, they represent a severe danger to local life and liberty, and so it is our responsibility to Hunt them down.

Find
Gorgons are big, heavy snakes. Because of this, if the ground beneath them isn't entirely solid, they leave very large and very distinct, zig-zagging tracks behind them. This is the most common way that gorgons are tracked down. Your victim, if a gorgon has tried to attack someone, will probably be dead and gone (eaten by the monster). Usually, gorgons take their food back to their nest to feed, but if not, there is a chance that there could be some blood from when the gorgon crushes their meal, and this will mean a blood trail, which can point you in the right direction. However, if neither of these work, your best bet is to look for somewhere that is not too far from a natural source of water, and is cool and dry, as this will be your location, the nest. If you can find your nest, then you will find your gorgon.
As for your suspects, unless you are in their native country, meaning that the creature is meant to be there, you have two major suspects: artefact collectors & black market dealers. If your gorgon has come from an artefact collector, then it may simply be a case of them buying an egg, and having it accidentally hatch on them. Gorgon eggs are very rare, and so highly prized, but some smugglers will trade them, even though they're not unfertilized. If this is the case, check your victim, it is likely that they will also be your suspect. But, if not, you can either check the artefact registry with your local authorities, to see if anyone in the vicinity is a collector, or alternatively you can usually douse for such high concentrations of magic, then question them, and see what they know. If they knowingly bought a fertilized egg, then you need to report them to the authorities.
For black market dealers, these too may be your first victim, so check the crime scene as well as their homes and businesses for any Hunting equipment, as some smugglers use tools similar to us. If this is the case, interrogate them for information, then be sure to report them to the authorities.

Kill
Because gorgons are flesh-and-blood creatures, killing them is relatively simple, even if it's not easy.
The most humane way to kill a gorgon is to Decerebrate it with a gun, the most effective method is to shoot it in the head with a shotgun. You can lure the creature close, but still hit your target whilst looking at them through a mirror, which is why I think it's the most effective. Some Hunters like to shoot them from a distance with a ranged weapon like a scoped rifle, but I've never fired a weapon like that personally, and hitting your target requires either luck or patience, neither of which I'm particularly fond of. If this isn't available to you, then the next best thing is to Decapitate them. This would be very difficult, if you're not used to swinging without seeing, but the Hunters I spoke to claimed that they can fight very effectively with a bandanna over their eyes, as they can still see through the cloth when it's close to their face, but it protects them from the gorgon's gaze. I attempted this myself, but I found that it made my vision very blurry, so I don't recommend it. But, if you can see clearly enough, and this allows you to get close and quickly sever the neck, then it's a good option.
If you're low on options, then as cruel as it seems, you can Incinerate the poor beast. Especially if your gorgon is hiding deep in its nest, and won't come out, lighting a fire will easily bring the creature out, and dousing it in fuel should end it rather quickly. Although, I warn that you should still have your weapon of choice handy to finish the job if its death throes are getting too violent.


Final Notes
I think that the lesson we should all take away from this is that, when it comes to wild animals, they belong in their native habitat. Forcefully taking a creature away from its home and dumping it half-way across the world puts everyone in danger, including the creature itself. And that is an awful shame, because these are magnificent creatures. The albino gorgon which I saw was a beautiful, innocent creature with a power that was stunning, both literally and metaphorically. It would be a shame to have them suffer and die, just because someone wanted to treat a wild, intelligent creature like some kind of pet.

The Puzzle of Jigsaw

I believe that any Idea could be made into a great Story. Not just "kind of good", and not just "technically a story, by some definitions", but something truly great, which can excite, intrigue or amaze.
For some stories, this is easier than others, as some ideas have a great deal more potential than others, and for others it would require a very talented writer to make it work.

I am saying all of this right at the beginning because I want to say that I don't think that the concept of writing yet another Saw movie was necessarily going to suck. I do believe that it is a "bad idea", in the sense that there is a lot of risk involved, especially in a series which has already come to a slow, painful conclusion.
But, as much as I never wanted another Saw movie, the reason I inevitably watched Jigsaw (I mean, the other reason, not just "so I could blog about it"), is because I felt like, if it was done right, they could reboot the series to recapture the style and intrigue of Saw, whilst telling a great story.

So, the idea behind Jigsaw could be have been a great movie. However, one of the reasons I know this for a fact is because the best way to turn it into a great movie already exists, and that movie is called Saw II.

Several people, locked in a building both owned and engineered by a famous serial killer, with personalized traps for each player, with specific rules of play and the promise of freedom for those who successfully complete their game, whilst the police in the adjacent storyline are piecing together evidence and trying to find out where the game is taking place - all the while not realizing that the actual killer is toying with them - and in the end, the twist is that the killer wasn't working alone.

Yeah . . . that's Saw II, and that's also the exact storyline of Jigsaw. The traps are different, because . . . "duh", a staple of this series is having new and different traps each time. Otherwise, this is that same idea but done much, much worse. And maybe you disagree that Saw II is "a great movie", but it's definitely a greater movie than Jigsaw.

But, the reason it sucked isn't just because the idea is unoriginal - a lot of ideas are unoriginal. Making a sandwich is not an original idea, that doesn't mean that you can't make an amazing sandwich.
It ruins this movie because using the exact same idea in the same movie series gets old much faster. In fact, that twist I talked about has already been done three times before. This is the fourth time they've used that "twist", in a movie that is now eight movies long, half of them now have had the exact same twist ending.

The second major reason why this sucked is because rather than rebooting this series, and trying to recapture the greatness of the first few films, instead this movie just picked up right where it left off, warts and all.
So, instead of writing great characters, and basing traps off of the ironic way in which the trap is going to test them, it just creates random traps for random people that will hurt or kill them in the most spectacular way possible. So, yes, this is yet more torture porn, without any of the psychological aspects previously explored in the first few movies. But, rather than create believable people with believable flaws, we have yet more "Acceptable Targets" for our killer to eviscerate.

But, this film added a third aspect which totally destroyed the fun for me, and that aspect is science-fiction. A major flaw in the Saw franchise is the foresight of the Jigsaw killer, because in several of the movies he creates traps with multiple stages, as well as complex mind-games, many of which rely upon the killer knowing the outcome of the trap beforehand. This is present in several of the movies, and this one as well, but in this one it's even worse - one of the later traps relies on there being only two people left to take part in it - which means that he had to know for a fact that right people would survive twice, in order for the trap to work. So, we know that the killer must be psychic, that's the only explanation.
But, that aside, several of the new traps in this series work by magic. The film doesn't say that it's magic, but some traps would be impossible otherwise. In several of the traps, the only way to free yourself is by doing as you're told - spilling your blood, or stabbing yourself. However, once the characters cut themselves, their locks magically come undone. They don't "find a key", "activate a mechanism", the locks just snap open, because the plot needed them to.
In one scene, a character needs to reach between some incredibly sharp wires to retrieve something, but when he attempts to use a long stick to do so, the trap is triggered and snaps it in half. Yet, when he reaches in with his hand, it doesn't trigger, and he retrieves it safely.
And worst of all . . . and it always annoys me when films do this. The filmmakers seem to have forgotten that medical laser beams don't exist, sure, we have technology which suggests that it may be possible in the future, maybe a few decades down the track, but as it stands it's currently impossible. The same thing happened for the creators of Now You See Me, when they somehow "forgot" that hyper-realistic, three-dimensional holograms don't exist. And the film doesn't even need it. Remember how I mentioned that scene, where a character nearly gets his hand cut by sharp wires? You could recreate the effect with the laser cutters just by using the super-sharp wires from that trap.
Oh, and did I mention that some of the traps are inescapable? Because, yes, more of the traps are inescapable, making them completely pointless as any kind of "test". So much of this film could have been better with some minor tweaks . . .

And this film kept on doing that. It had some ideas that were really cool, but then rendered them lame by the way that it was executed. Usually, the people who are in these traps are chosen because they are "wasting their life" in some way; in earlier Saw movies, people were chosen for things like: cheating on their wife; drug addiction; lying; self-harm; insurance fraud; self-destruction due to grief; obsession with work & kidnapping.
This film begins by hinting at the concept that, maybe, this is still the case. One person was a thief, one person was a dishonest businessman, one was a drunk . . . but throughout the film, we learn that every single person is a killer - by directly or indirectly leading to the death of an innocent person. That's NOT good storytelling!
As well as this, there was a trap which I actually thought was kind of interesting. These films have frozen, burned, cut, drowned, melted, crushed & eviscerated people before, but I think that this was the first one threatening to bury someone alive. Sure, the mechanism for escape is contrived and not well done, but at least it was new . . . but, this film ruins it by stopping half-way through the trap to throw knives at them. WHY?! You finally came up with an original idea, something I hadn't seen before, and you stop so that you can go back to throwing sharp things?
Oh, and the part of this film that bothered me the most - even though it wasn't the worst thing, it was present through the whole movie - everything was too clean. The first trap has shiny, metal walls. The sharp wire trap I mentioned before looked like it had been polished. The scene where the characters are being buried alive, had them being buried by clean, pure, fresh-looking grain. Even the set-piece trap of the film, the trap that they were clearly the most proud of - the spiralizer - looked like it had been painted.
Have none of the set designers or prop masters in this industry ever heard of "ambience"? Personally, I thought that part of the reason why the Jigsaw killer liked setting his traps in dingy factories, run-down houses and dark rooms is because he saw these tests as punishments, he wanted to bring them to the darkest, lowest point in their life, so that they could return to the world and see how bright it is. But, either way, the reality is that these films are set in grimy, dark, broken and run-down places is because these are horror movies, and places like that evoke an atmosphere of isolation, sickness, crime, danger and mystery. When you sweep the floors, polish the set and turn up the lights, your movie doesn't feel like a Saw movie.
And that's why this film fails so miserably. Yes, it has some of the minor thematic elements like the Billy puppet, the tapes, the traps, the twist . . . but, this feels like the cheap knock-off that it is. I mean, I say "cheap", even though the budget was bigger than the first two Saw movies combined (and remember, those were the best of the series), but that's because I'm talking more about what it's worth, not what it cost.

But, I'm not just here to be negative. After all, I don't think this film is as bad as the last Saw movie. I think this is about the same level as "Saw V" - not the worst, but still not good enough to recommend others see it.
So, rather than continue complaining and deconstructing the film, I'm going to do something constructive. Like I said at the beginning of this post, I honestly believe that you can turn any idea into a great movie - yes, even the idea of "let's continue the Saw franchise". So, let's keep the same title, same basic idea of people scared that Jigsaw is still alive & I'll even keep the characters similar, and borrow some of the ideas, just for fun. So, here is . . .

THE AWN'S STORY OUTLINE FOR A BETTER JIGSAW MOVIE

So, here is how I would do my movie. One of the aspects that this film brought up is the idea of "Jigsaw Worship Sites". So, what if we start the film with someone trapped in a dark room, tied to a chair in someone's garage. He starts screaming, the light comes on, and and in front of them is a man wearing a black hood with red highlights (Saw's usual get-up). The person then plays the tape, in Jigsaw's voice, and it says the usual spiel "I'd like the play a game. you are a terrible person, because you slept with my wife. You have two minutes to admit the truth, or you will burn."
Then as the trapped man protests, the guy in the hood pours gasoline on him.
After less than a minute of this, the police burst in, and arrest the guy, releasing his victim. As they drag him away, he screams "I am Jigsaw! This is Game Over for you!" nonsense like that.

Then we can go title screen, or whatever. Then we go to the police as they interview this guy, he basically makes it clear that he's a whackjob. Meanwhile, in the observation room, our main police character people are talking about how despite the fact that he killed so many people and resulted in one of the greatest manhunts for the police department, ever since John Kramer died, there have been a number of attempted copycat killers like the new guy here. We can reference stuff like, people who worship school shooters and other realworld drama, and how five or so people have died now, because of these copy-cats.

We flick back to the interview, and we learn that the tape he used had John Kramer's voice on it. The copycat admits that he downloaded it from a worship site, it's basically a "text-to-speech" program that reads out any text in John Kramer's voice. The police check out this website, we can do some character development, then they see a link to someone saying "real jigsaw murder" or something, and they they discover a video livestream of what looks like a standing coffin in a small, empty pool, and then we can get to our traps.

The Coffin Trap
A coffin-shaped box, with wide slats so that the person inside can see out, and light gets through. Inside stands a woman with grey hair, not too old, but not young. Her left hand is bent up so that it's near her face, and held in place on the side of the "coffin" with three screws through the palm - each one held in place with a washer. Around her neck is a mechanized "lobotomy collar" (it is designed to slowly stab a skewer under her chin and up through her brain). As well, there is a tape recorder, hanging on a screw near her face, and a screw driver hangs on a chain above her, poking through the slats.
When she awakens, the tape explains that the woman, Carla, is homeless and a thief. [dialogue: "You have been living in a box, but tonight you might just die in one."]. When she grabs the screwdriver, it will pull the chain, opening the hopper and slowly burying the box with dirt.

The Tractor Trap
A man is tied by thick ropes to the seat of a heavily modified tractor, which has the seat turned and raised so that he is facing the large wheels, which have nails and staples all over them. There is also a noose around his neck on a very long rope, that loops down and ties to wind around the axel. He, like the other person has a special collar around his neck, the "crusher collar" (essentially, a sort of vice, with clamps either side of his jaw, designed to slowly close together, and crush his head). In the seat cushion, between his legs, a kitchen knife has been stabbed He awakens to the sound of the tractor when it suddenly starts up, and a loud speaker attached to the wall tells him his fate. The character, Mitch, is a mechanic who sold a bike with faulty brakes, [dialogue: "You will need to cut yourself free before you reach the end of your rope. But, I'm afraid this vehicle doesn't have any brakes either . . ."]. He is forced to use his feet to stop the spinning wheels, and then cut the rope.

The Drink Trap
A man awakens in a room with several smashed beer and wine bottles all over the ground, he has nothing but a thin t-shirt and shorts on, and his hands secured behind him with handcuffs, and on the floor near him is a tape recorder. He, also, has a collar on, the "knife collar" (A collar with several knives sitting up like teeth around the edge. They are designed to bend downwards over time, to stab into the neck). On one side of the room, at eye-level there is a tap, pouring dirty water into a sink at foot-level. On the other side of the room is a very thick, clear glass pipe, at least a metre tall, secured to the wall with thick, metal brackets - in this pipe is a key attached to a ping-pong ball.
When he finally plays the tape, Ryan is told that because he is an alcoholic, he needs to walk over the broken bottles to retrieve the key from the bottom of the glass [dialogue: "Will you be able to fill the glass with liquid, before the room fills with your blood?"] Ryan will be forced to use his mouth to hold the water. The first time he tries it, he should spit the water out, and gag, to show that it does taste gross.

The Smoke Trap
In this room, there is simply a woman lying on the floor, with a cast-iron fireplace burning away, and the pipe leaking smoke throughout the room; the room has one locked door, with a 6-figure combination lock. She also has a collar, the "noose collar" (this one is essentially a steel-wire noose, which is designed to slowly tighten over time). As well as the noose, a tape recorder hangs on a chain around her neck. Anna awakens, coughing, due to the smoke. Her tape says that she suffocated her child, and so now she must suffer through choking smoke in order to escape. It explains that the code to unlock the door is written on the walls (it is in relatively small writing), and she must find them and enter the numbers before she chokes on the smoke.
She at first tries to stop the chimney, and burns herself as a result.

The Finger Locks
Once these people all break free of their traps, they leave them and enter a long corridor. It simply has four doors along one side, where they enter the room from their respective traps, one table on one side which has a hammer, a chisel (and maybe some other sharp tools) all chained to the table, as well as one tape recorder. There is a door marked exit, which is very heavily reinforced, and locked with an electronic lock.
On the free, long wall, there are four devices. Basically clear boxes, so that they can see inside. Each is designed with four holes, each close together and wide enough to fit one finger of one hand. but some of the finger-holes aren't long enough to fit an entire finger, and at the end of each finger-hole is a button.
The tape explains that each one of them is wearing a collar, which is slowly killing them, but there are keys to remove them on the other side of the door. Since they have all been so selfish in their lives, they must work together to collectively sacrifice something in order to leave the room. So, they simply need to activate each finger-lock, by reaching their hands into the box, through the holes, and pressing the buttons, but they will need to remove portions of their fingers, in order to fit each lock, using the tools on the table [dialogue: "Like any lock, you will need a key that fits. Which is why I have given you the tools to create your own."].

I might also steal that Shotgun trap, since that was kind of clever. Since, in my head, the killer will be upset because, the way they escape the finger traps is that all but one of the people involved will cut off their fingers - in several gutwrenching scenes of people measuring the shape of their hand, and putting the chisel against their finger . . . then raising the hammer - but the final person will decide they're not going to cut off their fingers, after seeing how painful it was. So, the others . . . do it for them. This upsets the new Jigsaw, so they decide to force them into another trap.

Also, in the background, we will have the police tracing the signal, and trying to hunt down this place where the livestream is taking place. But, my thinking is - to hell with the reveal in the show. I want the Jigsaw Killer to be a female, this time. The last time he had a girl helper, she was killed off for being too emotional. That's total bull. So, have a mature woman who is a fan of his because her father was in one of Jigsaw's traps, and that changed her life.
I haven't planned out the full scope of this because, well, this is just for fun. You could easily throw in more references to copy-cat killers, and the like. But, the idea is basically the horror that Jigsaw isn't a person, but an idea - the idea of inflicting traumatic growth upon people who are wasting their lives. So, the cops aren't battling a person, but an idea. Kinda like V for Vendetta . . . actually that movie had him torture someone in order to force them to learn something too, so yeah, a lot like that movie. Also, this is kind of reminiscent towards Untraceable as well.
The thing is, I haven't got a big plan for the ending, however if you want to go full on twisty-twisty woo, and play around with the timeline, you could make the girl - the one who decides to carry out these new traps - Corbett Denlon. Don't worry, I didn't know that name either until I looked it up, but that's the name of the girl whose father, Jeff, was the main character in Saw III; she was captured by Jigsaw for the purposes of that trap, and later rescued by the police. What if her experiences then, lead to her deciding to continue the legacy, in the name of both Jigsaw and her parents? Does that sound like a cool idea? I think so.
But, this is just for the sake of continuity fun-times . . . not necessary at all, but could be a fun continuity nod for geeks, like myself, and it's a fun, little twist. Oh, and the most important part of all - no lasers!


Anyway, that's how I would have written Jigsaw . . . if I had to. Or, alternatively, if someone paid me a lot of money to. If you think it's good, bad, crazy or something in between, feel free to comment below.
I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and until next time, I'm going to take a break from the Saw franchise for a while. Because at this point, watching these movies is starting to really hurt.

The Wrong Hands - Part 2: Cold Hard Science

At approximately five o'clock in the morning, on July 16, 1945, J. Robert Oppenheimer and Kenneth Bainbridge stood at the top of Compania Hill, wearing gloves, welding goggles and sunscreen. They were at the USAAF Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range in the Jornada del Muerto desert, overseeing the first test of a Y-1561 implosion-type nuclear weapon with a solid plutonium core, as part of the Manhattan Project.
At precisely 5:29 am, the bomb (known simply as "The Gadget" exploded in a foul and awesome display, which appeared to glow brighter than the sun, in brilliant yellow, red, purple and white. At the sight of this, Oppenheimer was reminded of two separate verses from Chapter Eleven of the Bhagavad Gita, which he had translated from Sanskrit to mean:

"If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one. [Verse 12] I am become Death, destroyer of worlds. [Verse 32]"

As the light began to subside, Bainbridge turned to him and remarked:

"Now we are all sons of bitches . . ."

This is the power, the beauty and the horror of science. It is a tool that can achieve great things, and things which we, perhaps, considered impossible. I have talked about religion and science, and this was once seen as the collision of religion and science - men who attempt to usurp gods, by achieving power equivalent to that of a god.
Whilst I consider this notion regressive, the moral implication of this still lingers. When we have the power to reshape the world, literally, with the power of science and in the blink of an eye, the caution necessary to avoid chaotic consequences is of the utmost importance.

Today, I am presenting a list of five times that we failed to take that caution . . .

Before I begin, however, I am prefacing this by saying that I have excluded all human experiments conducted during World War 2. This is for two unfortunate reasons . . . first of all, if I were to do that, then practically every item on this list would be Nazi experiments. Secondly, this list is exactly five items long, but there are over 20 separate, torturous experiments which utilized unwilling human subjects just from two of the wartime research facilities that I investigated whilst researching this list. This is not a discovery which I take lightly, but for now I am leaving this particular stone unturned, so as to focus on some of the more international ways that science has tortured the innocent . . .

5. The Speech Therapy Monster Study
What? In 1939, the University of Iowa conducted a speech therapy research study, in an attempt to understand the phenomenon of stuttering in children, and the best way to treat it.
How? Johnson selected 22 children from local orphanages, some as young as five, and some as old as fifteen. 10 of them were specifically chosen because they were determined (by their tutors and orphanage guardians) to be stutterers, and the other 12 were selected randomly from the orphanage population. First, their I.Q. was tested, as was whether they were right-handed or left-handed. Then, each group was split into two groups. The stutterers were split into IA & IB, two groups of five each. The non-stutterers were split into IIA & IIB, two groups of six each.
Half of the stutterers were told that they spoke very well, and that despite people who critiqued their stuttering, it was merely a phase. The other half were told the truth, that their stuttering was quite noticeable and poor, and that they needed to work on it. Half of the non-stutterers were also told that they spoke very well, and were to be complimented on their enunciation. The other half were told that their speech was deteriorating quite noticeably, and that if they did not work to prevent it, then they would develop a stutter.
The reason this is considered the monster study is because it lead to worse grades, withdrawal, diminished social activity and - in many cases - silence from practically all of the children who were told that their speech was poor. Although this study only lasted for five or six months, not only is there evidence that several of the negatively-reinforced childrens' ability to speak "deteriorated significantly" as a result of the study; but also, several of the children involved were left with persistent negative psychological effects as a result of their treatment during the study.
Why? The purpose of the test was to determine whether positive or negative reinforcement could affect one's ability to speak without stuttering. I guess in one sense, the study succeeded . . . but, in a much more potent sense, I feel that we all failed these children.

4. The Guatemalan Syphilis Experiment
What? From 1946 to 1948, the Pan American Sanitary Bureau conducted experiments on unaware Guatemalan soldiers, prisoners, mental patients & orphans by infecting them with sexually-transmitted diseases, so as to monitor the results and attempt to develop a vaccine.

How? With funding granted by the U.S. National Institutes of Health, the Sanitary Bureau sent John Charles Cutler M.D. and a research team to Guatemala, where they selected test subjects from the Guatemala state penitentiary, and later the army barracks, hospitals and local towns. They began by organizing for prostitutes infected with syphilis to sleep with them Guatemalan prisoners, then monitored the progress of the disease and treated those who contracted it with penicillin (although, according to reports, they were all underdosed). As the infection rate of sexual transmission was too low for the purposes of research, they later made abrasions on their test subjects' arms, faces and genitals and directly applied syphilis bacteria to their skin, or in some cases by injecting it into the spine. Over the years that this experiment took place, they used methods such as this, to infect 1,500 soldiers, prisoners, mental patients and even orphans.

Why? Because the researchers wanted to test if penicillin could prevent someone from contracting syphilis. They conducted these experiments in Guatemala because they knew full well that what they were doing was a human rights violation, and they even kept the experiment strictly off-the-books because this occurred during the Nuremberg trials, a highly publicized case condemning unethical Nazi experiments. In fact, alongside the unsuccessful results of the experiments. it is believed that the study was shut down after just two years because gossip was beginning to spread regarding the large number of sick people that were being sent to hospital as a direct result of this experiment. So, the records were kept secret and as his own tests had failed to garner any useful data, the lead researcher later helped to take part in the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment.

3. The Rawalpindi Gas Experiments
What? From 1916 to 1989, the British Military Service conducted several chemical weapon tests on Indian soldiers, who were unaware of the nature of these tests, in an effort to determine the affects of certain chemical weapons on different subjects.
How? Scientists from the Porton Down science park, travelled to India and set up several gas chambers, for the purposes of their experiments - but, as the records were buried, the exact location of these gas chambers is unknown. It is also unknown if the participation was voluntary . . . if they were treated like the British soldiers, they would have volunteered for "experiments" without being informed as to the specifics of these experiments, but due to the way the British tended to treat Indians, many doubt that this was voluntary.
These men were then sent into gas chambers filled with mustard gas - sometimes with very little clothing, sometimes with nothing but a respirator.
All of these men sustained burns, but some were serious enough to have men hospitalized, which we know due to hospital records from the Military Hospital Rawalpindi. These men had severe burns on their skin, genitals, faces and in their eyes due to exposure to the gas.
More than 500 Indian soldiers were exposed to mustard gas during the course of these experiments, and experienced severe discomfort and upset as a result. The scientists were well aware of the torment these patients underwent, as one scientist commented upon this in their report by saying: "Severely burned patients are often very miserable and depressed and in considerable discomfort, which must be experienced to be properly realised."
Why? Because the researchers wanted to know how the gas affected its victims - in particular, they wanted to know if the gas reacted differently to non-white skin compared with the white skin of their British test subjects.

2. The Apartheid Africa's Aversion Project
What? From 1971 to 1989, the South African Defence Forces conducted medical torture on unwilling homosexual conscripts in the form of compulsion shock therapy, drugs and other "therapies", in an effort to "cure" them of their homosexuality.
How? Due to a deliberate loophole in the law, homosexuals in South Africa could not join the military at the time, but they could be conscripted into it. However, as there was still a heavy degree of prejudice against homosexuality at the time, it was seen as a deviant and mental illness. To "solve" this, any drafted men which were identified as homosexual by the SADF were sent to Ward 22 at the Pretorian Voortrekkerhoogte Military Hospital. There, under the administration of Aubrey Levin, they were forced to undergo conversion therapies, to "cure" them of their homosexuality. Some of these "therapies" included compulsion shock therapy, whereby subjects were shown pictures of naked men, and when they became aroused were electrocuted; then they were shown images of naked women and told to fantasize. As well, some subjects were given testosterone, and (according to some reports) forced to have sex with women, and some subjects were even chemically castrated.
When these conversion therapies failed, as they inevitably would, these homosexual men were forced to undergo genital reassignment surgeries, and had their identities legally changed to female. According to reports, almost 900 homosexual men were forced to undergo genital reassignment surgery - without their consent - some resulting in incomplete surgeries and even death. Many of the gay men who were tortured, mutilated or medicated in this project committed suicide due to the trauma and disfigurements they sustained.
Why? HOMOPHOBIA. Clearly, these doctors didn't know what they were dealing with, didn't understand and didn't want to understand. Thankfully, at time of writing, Aubrey Levin is in prison because of the role he played in these crimes, but he is due for release in 2019.

1. The Soviet Poison Laboratories
What? From 1921 to 1953 (and apparently, reactivated in the 90s), the Soviet Secret Services tested a variety of deadly poisons on unwilling participants from forced-labour camps, in an effort to discover an undetectable poison which left no trace.
How? According to records, in 1939, the "Special Office" laboratory had been renamed Laboratory 1, and head researcher Grigory Mairanovsky - with the direct supervision of NKVD director Lavrenty Beria - initiated the secret poison program. The facility tested a variety of poisons on unwilling political prisoners which they had taken from Russian gulags. The poisons they tested included curare, cyanide, digitoxin, mustard gas, ricin, sarin gas, and many others including radioactive and biochemical poisons. They often either released the gas into sealed rooms with the subjects inside, or were given to the victims, with a meal or drink, as "medication". Once the subject died from the poison, they were then taken away and autopsied, so that more data could be collected. If the subjects survived the poisonings, they were executed and then autopsied so that more data could be collected.
Why? Poisons can be implemented in a number of different ways, they can be inhaled by poisoning the air we breath, ingested by poisoning the food we eat & even injected by harming someone with a poison-laced weapon. It is incredibly useful, especially in assassination. The Soviet Secret Service was testing the viability of several different poisons, as well as their effects on a people of different ages, races and physical conditions, to determine the best ways they could be utilized. But, the ultimate goal of these laboratories was to create the perfect, undetectable poison. Not only a poison that could not be tasted or smelled, but one which did not present during autopsy - perfect for political assassinations.
The scariest part of this is that, unlike some of these cruel experiments, apparently the Poison Laboratories succeeded. Carbylamine Choline Chloride, more commonly referred to as C-2 or K-2, is a poison that is near-undetectable, and kills a victim in just 15 minutes after poisoning.


Science is not free from sin. I believe that curiosity is a powerful force, and that learning should be celebrated; however, each one of these projects - even the attempts at "curing" a non-existent illness, for they too tested theories, and rejected failures - all of them came from a desire for knowledge, to broaden the reaches of science.
I deeply wish that I could say this were completely unnecessary, but even I am a skeptic of this optimistic view. How can we know what is safe without risking being unsafe? How can we draw the boundaries, unless we are willing to step over them?
I don't know the answers to these questions, and the fact that I do not know is both sobering and worrying . . . and I fear what I would need to do to find out.
I'm the Absurd Word Nerd, and I am sorry that ignorance must come before knowledge, just as religion came before science, but as someone who values both truth and well-being, I am anxious to think that they, at times like these, come into conflict. Until next time . . . please, get consent before you experiment.