Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.


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Unknown Location 2 "The Short Film"

There is a short film that has until recently been only found on the most obscure sites on the internet. Independently made, it is only four minutes long, but has grown a large following. Strangely, no original film stock is known to exist, though it has been in circulation for nearly thirty years. The entire piece is shot in first person, as if to recreate the feel of seeing it from someone's perspective, much as Orson Welles had planned on doing in his rendition of “Heart of Darkness.”

It is rumored that the filmmaker managed to actually record a real murder, and that what we see is seen from the eyes of the actual victim. How such a thing could be accomplished is unknown, and despite many people offering ideas, none have proven conclusive. This has proven more difficult due to the absence of the original film stock, which makes testing all but impossible.

Strangely, it is hard to find a full version of the film, as most contain missing scenes, something especially puzzling with a film of this length. The filmmaker has never been found, nor any of the cast and crew. Most disturbing though is the impact that the film has had on people, with symptoms ranging from the minor to the severe.

People claim it has scared them for weeks, the lifelike quality of the film adding to its popularity. Many people claim to see the film in their dreams, some even claiming to have it play fully from start to finish, even if the version they saw originally was missing those scenes. A select group of more sensitive people have been known to need psychological treatment, though the specifics of their experiences are usually not revealed. Most of their symptoms stem from a inability to sleep, as well as a deep set depression that seems to set in just before and just after going to bed. Most of these more serious reports come from therapists who treated these persons, and they have proven to be hesitant to talk about the specifics. This is strange, as patient confidentiality would certainly prevent them from revealing the names of their patients, but wouldn't necessarily bar them from sharing selective details.

I managed to view a working copy of the film, held onto by a woman who had managed to transfer the information over to a CD a number of years ago. The film follows a person waking up on a couch in what we assume to be a parlor. The perspective is an angled view of a large archway. Slowly, a light in the adjoining room turns on, showing that the room in question is the man's kitchen. Standing in the archway is a figure wearing a lumpy mask with a large grin. The nose on the mask is extended, and the eyes are comical in their size, with white yarn for hair. In their hand is a strange knife of significant length, the blade the color of rust. They are wearing a black suit, with white gloves and a white bowtie.


On Mike Dariano

This is a very rough draft of an essay for an upcoming book. Enjoy.

When I was in high school computers were becoming ubiquitous. Libraries, schools, and homes all began having them and I was just young enough and just savy enough to be seen as some sort of computer wizard. As such a wizard I needed to help a great many plebs with their computer trouble. The trouble was that I didn't really know much. I knew the acronyms and what they stood for; RAM, CPU, MB, GB, but how they interrelate I hadn't much of a clue. If I was tasked to make clothes instead of fixing computers I would be cutting out sleeves of different length, using fabrics that didn't match and sewing with all the wrong stitches. But I fixed a lot of computers.

The secret to fixing them was figuring out how to reset something. Most often this meant holding the power button until it shut down, waiting a minute, then turning the device back on. I still don't know exactly how this works. My guess is that some bit of code got stuck and a reset stops it. The beautiful thing was that this worked for nearly any program for nearly any problem at nearly any moment. It was like duck tape for fixing computers. I felt like someone cheating the system because I was solving problems without actually knowing how. What I didn't know was how helpful this would be when it came to being an adult.

As an adult people expect you to be right. It's really hard to say 'I was wrong' as an adult because there is an expectation that now we know things. It's even worse when you begin to lose your head as a parent. You and I? We are supposed to be the mature ones but when little Johnny begins coloring the walls or making holes in things we lose our shit. We yell and screech like they've failed to push the button in the television show Lost. We get so angry at our kids and the anger builds.

My daughters and I were building a block tower one day when I was letting the anger build and I realized the tower was a great metaphor for how I was feeling. I was letting blocks of anger stack up and when they fell down it was going to be epic. Then I realized the power of a reset.

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