From the journal of Rowdy Randy, May 18

This journal entry was found in a saddlebag on a motorcycle by James Cohen and his people. There were three motorcycles with saddlebags and three men crucified on poorly constructed log crosses. James searched the bikes to see if there was anything useful or with information on who did this to the men. They found a small spiral notebook written by one of the bikers, who used to go by the name of Rowdy Randy. It had a few entries, usually about enjoying the females their group found. The last entry is included below to show the mentality of the men in the motorcycle gang looking for James Cohen and Rebecca Martin.

May 18, 2017

I thought he had gone too far and that Jackson needed to be taken out as our leader. He and Mather grabbed some middle school age girls and their mother and passed them around to their favorite men. Don't  get me wrong, I love a good piece of ass. But it needs to be old enough to have pubes!
I am not the only one who thought so and we tried to take him out. We waited and planned for two weeks before striking. We had at least a third of the group, some really high up in the ranks. But we were still not able to take him down. The three "leaders", which I am one of, are going to be made an example of in front of everyone else.

We didn't start out this way. We were just some guys who used to ride together sometimes and when the shit hit the fan, we packed up and hit the road together. We were all outsiders before the pandemic and that didn't change after. We were never angels. We stole and killed when necessary to save ourselves, but we didn't rape at first. If fact, we rescued women and at least a dozen of them are still with our group. Jackson's wife, Rhonda, is one of them.
Something changed though. We took in another group of 10 bikers and one of them became Jackson's new best friend. Mitch convinced him that all the old rules don't apply anymore and why shouldn't we do what we wanted, all that we wanted. After that, women became prey and any men became dead. The woman's lives were short and hellish. Although, some of us men refused to take part in these activities.
As the days turned to months, the group got more and more into their own desires and fuck everyone else. Shit, the two people Jackson is after only defended themselves from him and a small group of bikers. The woman was under attack and some guy in a big rig drove right over most of them, but not Jackson and Rhonda.

I can hear them hammering the nails into my crucifix. Never thought I would die like Jesus. My Grandpap would be cackling with glee. He told me I would suffer like Christ, just don't think he was really speaking literally.
Well, I am not sorry that we tried. Better dead than still going around with these assholes. Maybe it will give someone else the same idea. It might be smarter, though, to just go after Mitch and try to bring Jackson back to the person he was before. Of course, he might not be able to go back.
I have been trying to come up with some really awesome final words, like in a movie. But I can't think of anything profound. So, fuck this world. Fuck the undead. Fuck Jackson and fuck Mitch. Peace out.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.