Remember back in the 1960's when the Manson Family murders occurred. The nation was shocked by the terrible acts caused by the Manson Family. Mourning occurred in some families for months. I was born in 1967, two years before the murders. I was a toddler when they occurred in my standard nuclear family.
Usually people would be shocked, terrified and want justice against the killers. If there was atleast one family that didn't think that way it was my dad's side of the family. That family was quite "inspired," by the event. In fact, you could say they wanted to participate in the event.
When they were denied by a smaller member if they could join, they decided to start there own family. The name of it was Deception Association and Raptorial Cult or D.A.R.C as it was commonly abbreviated between in our family. The people inside of it were relatives in our family, some of which didn't come from our family before. Take Jason Stone for example, my step-cousins, husband.
A few other relatives included, Marcus Anderson, an office worker in New York who moved to Sacramento in March of that year. My sister's boyfriend Brian, who is probably the least related to us. To put if briefly, my mother's, brother's, elementary school friend's, son. My grandparents started the cult and my dad and mom were put in second command.
For a few years mysterious activity would occasionally happen. In one case a baby suddenly came into our lives. I was 11, and knew from that time my mom was never pregnant or never seemed pregnant. When I was 13, I found a door I had never remembered. I was curious of course and asked my dad. He looked and listened to me, until I asked what was inside the room, where he just turned away and went back to watching the Super Bowl.
Finally, they left on this one day. I can't say exactly, all I know is me and my grandfather were the only one's in the home. When he fell asleep on his rocking chair, the door opened a crack. It opened all the way revealing my now 7 year old little brother hiding inside. He whispered and lured my inside. It was extremely interesting what I saw. A desk with two computer monitors with a small PC underneath. A wall of filing cabinets and another wall of photos.
Checking the cabinets, the front of them were listed with each of our names. My brother, me, my parents, my cousins, everyone! I opened my little brother and skimmed his files. Turns out he was a stolen baby from a general hospital in Las Vegas. I started at the word stolen for about a minute. The car pulling up in the parking lot stole my attention. I shoved my brother's file back in very quickly.
Just before I ran out I stole my files and my other siblings files. I quietly shut the door, hid the files under my bed and went to sit on the couch. Thanks to me having to lie to my parents a few times before, I knew how to act like nothing had happened. My brother unfortunately didn't he was as suspicious as ever. Biting his nails and wide-eyed.
My brother confessed, but did not bring down with the ship. He didn't get in much trouble, but he was restricted from supper and sent to bed early. Later that night I skimmed the files, first reading mine. Turns out when I was 3, my family had kidnapped me from a local park. My sister was suffered amnesia and she was stolen from a psychiatric center in Los Angeles. My other sister was born in our family, but was autistic which no one was informed of, not even her school.
The worst one though was my youngest brother. When I said, I put his file back in a panic, I only put the folder and kept the papers for myself. When I skimmed through them again, it did say he was stolen from a hospital. However, it said he was found dead in a pile of garbage a few days before I saw him at 7 years old.
That leaves me with one question, who the hell let me into the file room and got in trouble at my home.