GROUND
ZERO PLUS 1082 DAYS--New York, NY, Thursday,
August 26, 2004--Waking
in the middle of the night to hear yourself scream isn't a
pleasant experience--especially if you are an alleged Terror
Hunter as I proclaim myself to be.
But
that's
what
happened
last
night.
 |
II
couldn't
constrain
the
Beast
Within
and
screamed
into
the
night
the
night
|
In
the
middle
of
the
night
I
felt
the
suffocating
Fear
of
the
Beast
Within.
I
cannot
recall
the
psyche
surrounding
the
prelude
to
the
scream.
That
part
is
a
total
blank.
All
I
remember
is
the
scream,
a
guttural,
primal
force
rising
out
of
my
guts
and
blasting
into
the
air.
It
was
a
slow
scream
as
I
remember,
roiling
up
from
deep
within
some
well
of
human
pain,
the
unraveling
of
some
knot
of
Fear,
Intimidation
and
Complacency
that
one
tries
to
stuff,
hide
and
deceive
the
world
into
thinking
we
fragile
human
beings
can
control
the
power
of
the
Beast
Within.
Perhaps
we
can
in
our
waking
hours
constrain
the
Beast
so
that
we
can
coexist
in
a
somewhat
peaceful
state.
But
when
we
sleep
the
Beast
roams
within
the
dark
crevices
of
our
mind,
scratching
and
sniffing
about
in
search
of
some
thought,
memory
or
emotional
pustule
he
can
pierce
with
his
fangs
and
claws,
infecting
us
with
his
venom.
Last
night
the
Beast
landed
on
such
a
spot
within
my
psyche.
My
scream
was
his
roar,
the
evidence
of
his
presence
within
me,
skulking,
seeking,
finding
and
ravaging
some
vulnerable
part
of
me
with
such
ferocity
that
I
howled
like
a
banshee
in
the
nether
land
of
unconsciousness.
My
wife
grabbed
hold
of
me
and
settled
me
down,
mothering
me
with
words:
"It's
going
to
be
okay.
You're
okay.
It's
all
right."
I
rested
back
on
the
pillow,
an
icy
chill
surging
through
me.
I
was
under
attack
again.
I
work
hard
to
build
my
defenses
daily,
to
establish
my
own
Homeland
Security
against
the
Beast
of
Terror
by
writing
about
his
presence
and
those
who
overcome
his
attempts
to
force
them
into
his
servitude
through
Fear,
Intimidation
and
Complacency.
I
felt
for
a
moment
I
had
failed
last
night
to
protect
myself.
The
child
in
me
that
counts
on
the
man
in
me
was
victimized,
not
unlike
the
innocent
youth
who
believes
there
are
monsters
in
the
closet
and
muffles
his
or
her
scream
for
fear
the
"monster"
will
know
where
he
or
she
is
at
and
come
and
eat
them.
 |
More
often
than
not,
I
am
quiet
in
my
terror,
like
the
children
who
muffle
their
screams
so
the
monster
in
the
closet
won't
eat
them
|
I
know
there
is
a
scared
little
boy
inside
me
that
hasn't
yet
matured
and
may
never.
Perhaps
in
all
of
us
there
is
that
same
child,
the
one
who
never
grows
beyond
the
belief
of
bogeymen,
who
never
quite
reaches
that
state
where
he
or
she
can
flick
on
the
lights
of
reality
and
cast
forever
the
shadows
of
the
unknown
into
oblivion.
Maybe
that
was
the
lesson
I
learned
last
night--that
no
matter
how
hard
I
try
to
expel
the
Beast
of
Terror,
he
is
still
there
doing
push-ups
waiting
for
my
arrogance
to
slip
into
Complacency
so
that
he
can
burst
through
the
walls
of
my
feeble
defenses
and
remind
me
that
I
am
just
as
vulnerable
as
a
five-year-old
to
the
things
that
go
"bump
in
the
night."
The
Terrorists
who
attacked
the
U.S.
on
September
11,
2001,
reminded
us
all
that
our
children
aren't
safe--the
ones
we
have
given
life
to
and
the
ones
that
reside
deep
within
our
own
selves.
Evidence
of
that
truth
for
me
was
my
scream.
It
was
so
long.
It
seemed
to
last
for
eternity,
crawling
out
of
my
viscera
like
a
centipede
until
finally
it
erupted
as
a
volcano
might,
hurling
its
molten
lava
throughout
the
bedroom,
piercing
the
quiet
of
the
night
with
such
force
as
to
awaken
the
deepest
sleeper.
One
might
think
that
after
such
a
scream
there
is
relief,
similar
to
the
heaving
process
that
makes
one
feel
relieved
in
the
aftermath.
That
sensation
did
not
occur
for
me.
I
felt
branded
rather
than
relieved.
 |
Perhaps
the
presence
of
The
Beast
Night
Monster
reminds
me
of
the
work
yet
to
do
|
Inside,
I
was
marked.
The
Beast
was
alive
in
me
as
cancer
cells
spin
about
in
non-malignant
form
within
me
waiting
for
that
precise
moment
to
metastasize.
Maybe
it
was
a
reflection
of
"Rescue
Me,"
the
Denis
Leary
show
I
watched
last
night.
There
was
this
heavy
scene
about
the
difference
of
people
who
were
at
Ground
Zero
and
those
would-be's
who
claim
to
have
PTSD
simply
by
watching
the
events
on
television.
Maybe
I
was
angry
at
those
who
deny
my
right
to
be
in
pain.
Maybe
my
pain
is
self
imposed.
Maybe...maybe...maybe...
All
I
know
for
sure
is
that
the
Beast
lives
within
me.
 |
Perhaps
the
presence
of
the
Beast
is
more
good
than
bad
|
That
is
not
a
reason
for
me
to
surrender
my
Vigilance,
or
to
stop
my
quest
to
have
others
become
Sentinels
of
Vigilance
and
take
the
Pledge
of
Vigilance.
Perhaps
the
presence
of
the
Beast
is
more
good
than
bad,
for
it
reminds
me
of
the
roads
I
have
yet
to
travel,
and
the
work
I
have
yet
to
do.
If
you
have
ever
awakened
screaming,
you
know
the
Beast.
You
know
him
on
a
personal
level
far
beyond
your
ability
to
describe.
You
know
him
as
the
child
knows
the
shadows
in
the
night
that
move
about
in
such
a
manner
as
to
make
the
child's
skin
crawl.
You
should
be
first
in
line
to
become
a
Sentinel
of
Vigilance
if
you
have
ever
screamed.
 |
When
your
child
screams,
let
it
be
a
reminder
to
not
let
up
on
your
Acts
of
Vigilance
|
Then,
when
your
child
screams,
you'll
know
it
is
a
reminder
to
not
let
up
on
your
Acts
of
Vigilance,
for
the
Beast
is
somewhere
stalking
another
child,
and
maybe
something
you
can
do
or
say
will
help
that
child
become
a
Sentinel
of
Vigilance
to
ward
off
the
Beast's
attack.
Screaming
isn't
so
bad.
Not
if
we
learn
how
to
become
more
Vigilant
as
a
result.
.jpg)
