Chapter 5 (previously Chapter 6)
The Dark Side of Bestrewn
“Show me the way
To the next little girl
Oh, don’t ask why
Oh, don’t ask why
For if we don’t find
The next little girl
I tell you we must die
[Chorus]
Oh, moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We’ve lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why” – Alabama Song (Whisky Bar) – The Doors, 1967 – (Reprise) Perception, 2006
The hum of the dial-up. That’s the sound of the abyss opening. '99. Feels like a lifetime ago, a different world. Y2K looming, everyone terrified of the computers crashing, while I was just excited to plug mine in, finally join the party. Somerville, that was my stomping ground back then. Little did I know, that machine wasn’t a gateway to the world, but a trapdoor to hell.
Before, there were excuses. DVDs, videos, bought in a store, so, legal-ish, right? Deny, deny, deny. But the internet, the internet whispered something else. A secret, a promise, and a black hole. And I, Andrew Jacobucci, was already teetering on the edge.
Fell right off. No hesitation. No looking back. Sucked ...
