From my Oubliette .... (page 3)

whathappened

Welcome my new friend. Such a gift you have! Please continue here.

Comatose

Welcome. I wish you peace. Please know that any prison can be broken out of. It just takes skill and time. Peace be with you friend.

In time you will write a new history all of your own. It took us three years to find our way to freedom, but we're living now for the first time ever, even though it is a new and different life from what we had before.

welcome all the same.

humbled

Dear friend,

Welcome. The shadow life you live is so well known to many here. I don't know how sensitive you are to outside/apostate information. In my dungeon time when I did not know if my inquisition and pain would result in a reslution of doubt or not--I did not want to increase my turmoil by reading the writings of a known apostate, a book I had heard quietly spoken of, CRISIS OF CONSCIENCE. So I did something that I believe may help you see that the Organization cannot strip you of your identity your history if you choose to walk free.

Go to Amazon and read the reviews of CRISIS OF CONSCIENCE. Between the two editions offered, there are perhaps 130+ persons who wrote to express the appreciation-even love- they have for a man whose prime years were given to an organization that tried to destroy him as it had others-- Ray Franz is better remembered for his years "of decline" out of the Organization. Certainly some of us love him for climbing out of his oubliette and helping us leave as well.

Don't give up.

Oubliette

-.-- --- ..- .-. / -- . ... ... .- --. . ... / --. .. ...- . / -- . / .... --- .--. . .-.-.- / - .... .- -. -.- / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

YOUR MESSAGES GIVE ME HOPE. THANK YOU

It is morning. The light from the rising son casts its rays on the far wall of my prison cell.

It is strange. The light can get in, but I cannot get out.

I spend my hours alternating between anger and despair. I search my mind trying to find a reason--a valid reason, a reason that makes sense--for my plight. Try as I might, I can find none.

Those that I trusted betrayed me. I am not without sin, it is true. But my sins pale into insignificance in comparison to the gross crimes of my accusers. Those that cast me mercilessly into this dungeon of hopelessness continue their lives as if nothing had happened. They move freely about while I am confined to these four walls.

I am forgotten. Perhaps in some small part of their mind there may yet be some remembrance of me, an echo of guilt. Occasionally, late at night they may awake with night terrors; sweating and alone in the dark--overwhelming anxiety washing over them in waves of panic. It is a vestige of their now crippled conscience crying out before dying, screaming in a vain attempt to rehabilitate their corrupted humanity.

But then, no doubt, the attack will subside. They will dismiss it as baseless, attributing it to nothing more than simple indigestion from overly rich foods. Perhaps they know they are lying to themselves; I do not know. I have not the gift to read minds nor the insight to understand the complex motivations that twist men that were once good into dark, fiendish caricatures of their former self. And yet I have learned that the powers of self-justification apparently have no limit, and the ability of humans to excuse themselves from otherwise inexcusable acts knows no bounds.

They were granted a measure of authority and that power had corrupted their souls.

As long as I am gone, away, imprisoned, I am out of sight and conveniently out of mind. And so I am forgotten.

But I do not forget. I remember, perhaps I remember all to well.

- - - - - - - - -

I am reminded of the plight of Edmond Dantès, falsely accused of treason and imprisoned in the dreaded Chateau d'If.

Those of you that write to me are my priests, Faria.

Please, I need your help, I need your training. Teach me ...

belbab

I stand in no-man's land

Who can stand in mine?

I stand in all-men's- land.

Who can stand in mine?

belbab

poppers

This is some of the most beautiful writing I've seen on this or any other board. My heart goes out to you. Stay here and continue to write and drink in the advice you are given by others - they hear you as well and are touched. No one who has seen your words can be left untouched. My only regret is that I hadn't opened your thread when you first posted it. I wish you well, dear one.

return of parakeet

Very "Silence of the Lambs."

Glander

The "oubliette" within the "Oubliette".

During the tour of Warwick Castle in the UK you are led down a steep, low ceilinged, staircase into dungeon. It is claustrophobic and very grim. However, that is not the worst of it. In an alcove off the main chamber there is a small iron strap cage door about 3" square at floor level. Inside is a dim lightbulb revealing a hole carved into the stone that would be just large enough for a full size person to fit into, taking a fetal position.

"This is the last goddamn torture chamber I am going to tour on this trip!", I told me wife. (We had previously toured the Tower of London). I still get the willies just thinking about all these years later.

If that is how you describe your present life situation I can only say that you MUST escape even if you have to chew your leg off.

From my Oubliette ....

rip van winkle