Onward Towards The Ranch

In any life time one has to take for granted that many, if not all, of our memories are false. If you could look back on the actual events of any moment you remember clearly, the events would transpire so completely at odds with what you remember that you would doubt it was truly the way it happened, even when face with a true account. Then, there are memories that are completely false. Memories, which you have no right in having, that were told to you over and over until it became fixed in your mind that you were there and experienced it all.

What I am about to share with you has been written down by myself as the events happened. I will transpose the entries for you to read, while attempting to give you that clear lens of truth to see what really happened all those years ago at the Wine Hill Ranch. Writing is such an imperfect form of communication. None the less, I know of no other way to tell the complete story. Age has taken most things from me, and to have the final thing taken away without telling the story of Wine Hill would leave my immortal soul in turmoil for a long eternity.

The journal entries at the beginning (and which you will read first) are most coherent and give a good account of the events that happened as I came to live, first in the town of Pineville, then as a guest at the ranch. As the story moves into its maturity, the journal entries become more arcane. It is here that I will attempt to give you the truth of hindsight as best as I can. As well, when possible, I will report the memories of as many of the surviving players of this story as is feasible. When the decision came to me to record these events, I tracked down as many people who were there as I could and recorded what they had to say on the matter. Keep in mind, that most of the people who could be found had spent much of the last few years in a semi vegetative state and have accepted the truth of what happened as it was told to them. Contained herein are not those truths, but rather the flashes of coherent thought screamed at locked bedroom doors in the night.

Never the less, this story is essentially one of Bart Foley, and me. I can find no way to separate myself from the events that unfolded at Wine Hill, as I have come to realize that most of what happened did so due to my own actions. I came to Pineville hoping to be an observer and, looking back, have discovered that the scientists own expectations, for good or for ill, can ruin the experiment as conclusively as death. Hopefully, you will come to see that, even though the story ends with death and destruction, they are inevitable. It is only through release that you can receive renewal. And so I release this story, so that, one day, my own soul shall find renewal, or at least redemption.