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The Revelation to John
Reader discretion is advised.
Also trigger warning - discriptive of mental health issues, self harm and violence.
Running. I'm running. I knew the enemy couldn't contain me in their grasp much longer. I'm alone...am I? Maybe not, it doesn't matter too much. This dense smog is suffocating me, but I mustn't stop running . I’m not prepared, I must run, I'm not prepared, I must hurry. I’m not ready, I must prepare.
~200mg of Sertraline and 2.5 mg Procycladine on a morning, another Procycladine at dinner and 30mg Dalmane, 500mg Seroquel and another Procycladine before bed.
Fucking criminals, it’s poison, but I already feel better, and the only way is up following my detox from that shite.
They feed the nanomites through the tablets, I don’t give a fuck what people say. I know they’re devouring me so they can replace me.
I can feel the pain in my Cerebellum; a pain that moves like a snake up a ladder, it scales. It’s spitting on my tongue, I can taste it. Moving on my tongue. I can see it, it’s crawling, pulsating,under my skin. It’s okay though, because pain is irrelevant now. Only one thing holds any relevance and that is the war. The Lord will heal me... even beyond the grave.
Caesar's forces are closing in. I reach the door of the munitions stores - Locked. Infiltration is no problem. I just hit the wood with my boot.
The fear in his eyes upon realising his troop's shortcomings in their attempts to restraint me twitched in time with a frantic mass of men, seizing to then liquidate upon his demise.
He utters some bollocks, it’s the silly cunt’s attempt of mind control but my suitably adjusted Gillette spared my ear drums.
~What's tha done that for thi slack 'oyle. Look at the flaming mess! Ya'v fucked it now, kid!
Shut the fuck up.
Silence. My hunt continues. And it continues. Fumbling in the blinding darkness, I curse my spectators. They must have moved it in a bid to annoy me. I watch it materialise before me. The cold metal burns my fingers. It's glowing, God is happy. Thank you? It's glowing.
BRIB? No you dumb cunt its BR-18. You call your self a soldier.
I remove my adaption of the Gillette from the degenerates jugular. I feel his filth ooze on to my skin; I think I'm getting an erection.
I must pay for this atrocity - I take the blade to my genitals and make a clean incision through the skin, tearing through the flesh like a hot knife to butter. One of my testes hangs loosely on my ductus deferens. All the sin is being cast out now.
Forgive me Father, heal me.
Redeem me.
I'm on the floor. The poisons debilitating effects still inebriate me. There's a haze in the air - I'm running. Gotta keep my mouth covered or I'll keel over. I can't. Gotta keep running. For the Father, the son and Holy spirit.
~Keep running, John.
I'm holding my breath, performing a rustic pirouette to assemble with the shadows. I'm close. So close. The shadows confirm this with a static smile. A warmth vibrates through me. Shit. I think the anxiety made me piss myself. I feel the piss and discust cover my body. I'm a fucking delinquent. There's laughter. My ears are bleeding. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!
~I'm afraid there was an incident with another pupil, unfortunately your son's time on our ward must be terminated. The authorities are transferring him to another one of our partnering hospitals...
There's one of the maggots patrolling this alley, I'll take his kilt. Unconventional but ultimately just temporary. I can't let the boys see I fucking wet myself. Or that cute nurse from Camp Rampton.
I find myself wrapping the gun around his neck in a trance, disassociating to the enchanting thought of my eternal harmony following the war.
Their head jolts back into my chest.
Mam? You're working for the n-AI-zi scum? In a fit of rage, I throw her to the floor. I bounce my foot from her head. Like a squash ball, bouncing. Bouncing. Bouncing.
I was most likely shouting profanities upon every strike. I don't like to raise my voice but this occasion is one of those trying times.
Her filth has decorated the asphalt. Her soul tries to clamber away. Crying like an infant. It disgusts me, but admiring the scene is cathartic. I create a second puddle, adjacent to the delinquent bint who birthed me. Is this my rebirth?
"For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but imperishable, through the living and enduring of the word of God"
I am now invincible. Born again like the Son of Man, to redeem mankind, I'm the biblical Barry Scott. Bang! And the filth is gone.
That thought is is humerous. Enough jibber jabber. The Lords battle is upon us. The shepherd has called upon his collie to collect the flock. Woof.
My defensive drones in my tissue have cleansed the poison from me. I have prepared. I am ready.
~That lads just cost me an arm and a leg cossa those pups! Look's dead chuffed with himself, absolute wrong’en! Cunt should of slit his own throy't [throat] and done his family a fucking favour.
Old tosser. He should see me now, on the front line. Never mind eat his words, I'd make him choke. It's a shame the poison killed him. Don't trust the quacks daddy-o.
I need to infiltrate the camp. Everyone's possessed. Bastards. All their words are spoken in tongues - I'm the only one who’s pure.
There's eyes. Eyes everywhere. They're eating me. I want to pop them all, like greasy pimples on a pubescent boys face. I try but they’re biting my fingers. I stumble, falling into a grave. I fall onto my mother. We scream. It's perforating my eardrums, like the maggot's which have slowly devoured her putrid corpse. I’m covered in her filth, I think I’m getting an erection.
Clean it off me, get it off me. Now! Get it off. It’s spreading, it’s filling my pores like a transdermic patch. It burns, like sulphuric acid to a freshly inflcted wound. Shit. It’s filling the grave. Engulfing me like a neanderthal in a tar pit. I cant escape. Lord forgive me, help me escape. I can't see.
Now I can see him, not the lord but his nemesis. No name is needed.
-Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. I will grant your redemption.
He consumes me, he is me. I am him - I am reborn for a third time. It all makes sense now, the revelation to John is the revelation to me, for I am John; and it is bestowed upon me to enforce the apocalypse.
I’m no longer running, this is it, I’m here.
The enemies are camping, unaware whilst continuing with their usual errands, grabbing supplies and such. There must be hundreds, thousands maybe.
I don’t care. Caesar can know I’m here. By now he must know I’m here. Unleashing multiple slugs into the masses, I incapacitate everyone in my vision. Soldiers, reptillian drones, all falling left-right-left. Their filth laying a grotty carpet across the ground. Their screams are harrowing in the sweetest of fashions.
I am fueled by white-hot wrath. I hear sirens. Caesars goons are here. I will consume them. The door splinters open.
I’m laughing. I know they can’t hurt me, not with their mortal restrictions. I am the new ruler of this world and I will not be stopped. They're surrounding me; moulding together into malevolent humanoid prisms. Their uniforms protruding from their oozing cavities which are comparable to the most extreme cases of gout. That disgusting black and green. Bones are protruding from almost every angle. My moneys on that they’re a self-defence mechanism. I try hurling my previously unstoppable blasts but they just move and reshape.
Lights are flashing. My purity is leaking. Their lead has managed to break through my shell. It hurts real bad. Fuck. I think I'm getting an erection. Everything’s swirling into a haze of indescribable colours. I don't know if im stood. I'f floating. I have recieved my redemtion. For you my Lord, I have delivered the apocolypse.
Jonathan Brohanderson was a troubled individual, who escaped from Rampton secure hospital early last year. It can only be described as a tragic series of events that unfolded after his escape.
Brohanderson endured a lot of physical and mental abuse as a child, which ultimately had detrimental effects on his mental health and his moral compass and was institutionalised at the young age of just 12 years old. This was following a string of brutal slaughterings of neighbourhood pets. During his time incarcerated in hospitals, he never spoke to a single member of staff or fellow patients.
During the short time he escaped from Rampton, it is confirmed he killed 17 people, one being a mother walking home carrying her young infant, for Brohanderson to then steal her skirt after he had mutilated his own genitals. There was a separate incident involving a known local firearms dealer, though the connection was speculated, nothing has ever been confirmed.
He was shot dead by armed police in the Trespass store in Ponfractum, it is reported that he was screaming biblical phrases, cursing his father and speaking in tongues during this ordeal.
Local Authorities were praised for their swift actions and the hospital is currently under scrutiny for their security measures.
Also trigger warning - discriptive of mental health issues, self harm and violence.
Running. I'm running. I knew the enemy couldn't contain me in their grasp much longer. I'm alone...am I? Maybe not, it doesn't matter too much. This dense smog is suffocating me, but I mustn't stop running . I’m not prepared, I must run, I'm not prepared, I must hurry. I’m not ready, I must prepare.
~200mg of Sertraline and 2.5 mg Procycladine on a morning, another Procycladine at dinner and 30mg Dalmane, 500mg Seroquel and another Procycladine before bed.
Fucking criminals, it’s poison, but I already feel better, and the only way is up following my detox from that shite.
They feed the nanomites through the tablets, I don’t give a fuck what people say. I know they’re devouring me so they can replace me.
I can feel the pain in my Cerebellum; a pain that moves like a snake up a ladder, it scales. It’s spitting on my tongue, I can taste it. Moving on my tongue. I can see it, it’s crawling, pulsating,under my skin. It’s okay though, because pain is irrelevant now. Only one thing holds any relevance and that is the war. The Lord will heal me... even beyond the grave.
Caesar's forces are closing in. I reach the door of the munitions stores - Locked. Infiltration is no problem. I just hit the wood with my boot.
The fear in his eyes upon realising his troop's shortcomings in their attempts to restraint me twitched in time with a frantic mass of men, seizing to then liquidate upon his demise.
He utters some bollocks, it’s the silly cunt’s attempt of mind control but my suitably adjusted Gillette spared my ear drums.
~What's tha done that for thi slack 'oyle. Look at the flaming mess! Ya'v fucked it now, kid!
Shut the fuck up.
Silence. My hunt continues. And it continues. Fumbling in the blinding darkness, I curse my spectators. They must have moved it in a bid to annoy me. I watch it materialise before me. The cold metal burns my fingers. It's glowing, God is happy. Thank you? It's glowing.
BRIB? No you dumb cunt its BR-18. You call your self a soldier.
I remove my adaption of the Gillette from the degenerates jugular. I feel his filth ooze on to my skin; I think I'm getting an erection.
I must pay for this atrocity - I take the blade to my genitals and make a clean incision through the skin, tearing through the flesh like a hot knife to butter. One of my testes hangs loosely on my ductus deferens. All the sin is being cast out now.
Forgive me Father, heal me.
Redeem me.
I'm on the floor. The poisons debilitating effects still inebriate me. There's a haze in the air - I'm running. Gotta keep my mouth covered or I'll keel over. I can't. Gotta keep running. For the Father, the son and Holy spirit.
~Keep running, John.
I'm holding my breath, performing a rustic pirouette to assemble with the shadows. I'm close. So close. The shadows confirm this with a static smile. A warmth vibrates through me. Shit. I think the anxiety made me piss myself. I feel the piss and discust cover my body. I'm a fucking delinquent. There's laughter. My ears are bleeding. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!
~I'm afraid there was an incident with another pupil, unfortunately your son's time on our ward must be terminated. The authorities are transferring him to another one of our partnering hospitals...
There's one of the maggots patrolling this alley, I'll take his kilt. Unconventional but ultimately just temporary. I can't let the boys see I fucking wet myself. Or that cute nurse from Camp Rampton.
I find myself wrapping the gun around his neck in a trance, disassociating to the enchanting thought of my eternal harmony following the war.
Their head jolts back into my chest.
Mam? You're working for the n-AI-zi scum? In a fit of rage, I throw her to the floor. I bounce my foot from her head. Like a squash ball, bouncing. Bouncing. Bouncing.
I was most likely shouting profanities upon every strike. I don't like to raise my voice but this occasion is one of those trying times.
Her filth has decorated the asphalt. Her soul tries to clamber away. Crying like an infant. It disgusts me, but admiring the scene is cathartic. I create a second puddle, adjacent to the delinquent bint who birthed me. Is this my rebirth?
"For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but imperishable, through the living and enduring of the word of God"
I am now invincible. Born again like the Son of Man, to redeem mankind, I'm the biblical Barry Scott. Bang! And the filth is gone.
That thought is is humerous. Enough jibber jabber. The Lords battle is upon us. The shepherd has called upon his collie to collect the flock. Woof.
My defensive drones in my tissue have cleansed the poison from me. I have prepared. I am ready.
~That lads just cost me an arm and a leg cossa those pups! Look's dead chuffed with himself, absolute wrong’en! Cunt should of slit his own throy't [throat] and done his family a fucking favour.
Old tosser. He should see me now, on the front line. Never mind eat his words, I'd make him choke. It's a shame the poison killed him. Don't trust the quacks daddy-o.
I need to infiltrate the camp. Everyone's possessed. Bastards. All their words are spoken in tongues - I'm the only one who’s pure.
There's eyes. Eyes everywhere. They're eating me. I want to pop them all, like greasy pimples on a pubescent boys face. I try but they’re biting my fingers. I stumble, falling into a grave. I fall onto my mother. We scream. It's perforating my eardrums, like the maggot's which have slowly devoured her putrid corpse. I’m covered in her filth, I think I’m getting an erection.
Clean it off me, get it off me. Now! Get it off. It’s spreading, it’s filling my pores like a transdermic patch. It burns, like sulphuric acid to a freshly inflcted wound. Shit. It’s filling the grave. Engulfing me like a neanderthal in a tar pit. I cant escape. Lord forgive me, help me escape. I can't see.
Now I can see him, not the lord but his nemesis. No name is needed.
-Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. Worship me. I will grant your redemption.
He consumes me, he is me. I am him - I am reborn for a third time. It all makes sense now, the revelation to John is the revelation to me, for I am John; and it is bestowed upon me to enforce the apocalypse.
I’m no longer running, this is it, I’m here.
The enemies are camping, unaware whilst continuing with their usual errands, grabbing supplies and such. There must be hundreds, thousands maybe.
I don’t care. Caesar can know I’m here. By now he must know I’m here. Unleashing multiple slugs into the masses, I incapacitate everyone in my vision. Soldiers, reptillian drones, all falling left-right-left. Their filth laying a grotty carpet across the ground. Their screams are harrowing in the sweetest of fashions.
I am fueled by white-hot wrath. I hear sirens. Caesars goons are here. I will consume them. The door splinters open.
I’m laughing. I know they can’t hurt me, not with their mortal restrictions. I am the new ruler of this world and I will not be stopped. They're surrounding me; moulding together into malevolent humanoid prisms. Their uniforms protruding from their oozing cavities which are comparable to the most extreme cases of gout. That disgusting black and green. Bones are protruding from almost every angle. My moneys on that they’re a self-defence mechanism. I try hurling my previously unstoppable blasts but they just move and reshape.
Lights are flashing. My purity is leaking. Their lead has managed to break through my shell. It hurts real bad. Fuck. I think I'm getting an erection. Everything’s swirling into a haze of indescribable colours. I don't know if im stood. I'f floating. I have recieved my redemtion. For you my Lord, I have delivered the apocolypse.
Jonathan Brohanderson was a troubled individual, who escaped from Rampton secure hospital early last year. It can only be described as a tragic series of events that unfolded after his escape.
Brohanderson endured a lot of physical and mental abuse as a child, which ultimately had detrimental effects on his mental health and his moral compass and was institutionalised at the young age of just 12 years old. This was following a string of brutal slaughterings of neighbourhood pets. During his time incarcerated in hospitals, he never spoke to a single member of staff or fellow patients.
During the short time he escaped from Rampton, it is confirmed he killed 17 people, one being a mother walking home carrying her young infant, for Brohanderson to then steal her skirt after he had mutilated his own genitals. There was a separate incident involving a known local firearms dealer, though the connection was speculated, nothing has ever been confirmed.
He was shot dead by armed police in the Trespass store in Ponfractum, it is reported that he was screaming biblical phrases, cursing his father and speaking in tongues during this ordeal.
Local Authorities were praised for their swift actions and the hospital is currently under scrutiny for their security measures.
