Night Station # 3

Hamilton Krone was old. He had none of the good graces that most Seniors possess. He was old like calcified limestone — ancient and filled with holes and sharp crags. Each new day added to Krone’s litany of humiliations. He had money when he was young and nothing seemed to matter then. When he first noticed age creeping into the lines on his face he became manic, trying to stave off the insidious creep of slow death. He lashed out against the world and everyone he knew. Krone left his partner of fifteen years and went on a rampage of debauchery. He forced himself on naive teenagers — seducing them with money. He wanted to control them to enhance his own power — using and abusing — encouraging drug addition and prostitution. Krone’s plan was to suck them dry — to consume the vital energy of youth in order to stave off the quickening of old age. Hamilton Krone the alchemist; instead of chemicals and compounds Hamilton mixed and mashed, and corrupted the lives of fragile, young victims.

The corruption continued for many years until one day he clearly recognized the decay of his surroundings. He was living in an abandoned building surrounded by homeless squatters and drug addicts. His money was gone. His young prostitutes were used up, pitiless creatures living in their own shit. A cracked mirror revealed the final blasphemy: a shrunken head, his own, wrapped in swaths of wrinkled and pocked flesh. His frail body screamed with every small movement. He pissed his pants and suffered bouts of diarhea — no longer able to control his own body. He imagined his brain filled with holes from worms that tunneled through his memories, eating and shitting out his life. He lost a little more each day.

The letter was his only hope. He wasn’t certain anymore how he received it (it might have appeared like magic). The embossed envelop looked important. Hamilton waited several days before he opened it — clinging to the unopened envelop like a straw in a hurricane. Finally he could wait no longer. His trembling hands held the letter and Krone mumbled the words to himself, “Dear Sir, we have been searching for a person of your high caliber to become part of a visionary program. Come to the Night Station.” A map was included with directions. Hamilton Krone was skeptical, after all he had been party to the cruelest tricks that life could play; But he had nothing left to lose and nothing else to gain.  

Old Age



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