THE LOT

The proverb “Time waits for no man” tracks back through the centuries to its earliest recorded source in English literature—Saint John Mirk’s Festial, authored around the year 1400 as a warning to mortals about the unyielding, crushing forward march of time.

But old Saint Mirk made a foundational error in his ‘book keeping’. He assumed every predator walking the pavement was bound by human blood.

In the sovereign case of Peter LeBlanc, time actually does wait. It has to. For Peter, while inhabiting the body of a man, is really not a man at all. Not bound by the confines and limitations of a mortal’s coil—his existence is an ancient one whose path runs through the eons as travel receipts from one existence to another.

Peter has let a nine-year chasm sit completely idle. But “SHE,” Madeleine Ugarte, was able to do something few if any ever have… gotten under his skin… Made him feel. Something he kept buried until now… until the exact mechanical thread home reminded him—his triple-black 1961 Jaguar E-Type—came back to the lot.

He looks to rectify this error on the ledger in chapter two of “SHE,” “Cracks in the Mirror.”

They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… but ‘they’ have never met a fallen angel whose dignity has been defiled.

Here is the finalized cinematic trailer for Chapter One of THE LOT. I wrote and composed this original 1968 Chicago electric blues score from the ground up to anchor this sequence, capturing the bleeding, raw energy that surrounds Madeleine Ugarte, a woman who literally faces many transitions deep within the Carpathian mountains to escape something far worse than death.

The steady voice of our guide takes us through the blind, suffocating fog as Peter LeBlanc dials the ignition of his triple-black 1961 Jaguar E-Type Fixed Head Coupé to hunt down a defiant asset.

Turn the volume up. Listen to the skin peel.

The gate to Exodus Motors has opened in the first comment below. Step inside and secure your perimeter on the master line.

— Markus Machado // Writer-Composer

#thelot #horrornoir #chicagoblues #twilightzone #cosmicdread #audiodrama #independentfilm

Peter LeBlanc is driving a triple-black 1961 Jaguar E-Type Coupe straight north into a suffocating wall of Napa Valley fog, its twin chrome center-exit exhaust pipes screaming against the freezing midnight air. The ancient cosmic architect falling victim to his shell of humanity, Peter has spent eons orchestrating the precise geometry of the stars—but tonight, he is tracking a broken heart and an open wound on the ledger. He is hunting Madeleine Ugarte, his ultimate masterpiece, the only soul who ever possessed the unyielding nerve to thwart his will. But the black leather seats of the Jaguar only hold the lingering scent of her French lavender and clove perfume; Madeleine has fled four thousand miles away into the Carpathian mountains, paying an agonizing price to a Romanian witch to transform her own flesh into an un-trackable firewall of seven dead souls. The chase is on and officially live on the pavement.

PREMIUM AUDIO ANTHOLOGY SERIES

Look closely at your signatures, fellow travelers.

Every legal title, every pristine escrow clearance, and every ink-wet contract you sign in the bright, climate-controlled comfort of modern society carries an underlying carrying fee. We crawl across the pavement of this world driven by a frantic, short-sighted anxiety to accumulate the assets—the real estate, the high-status bloodlines, the uncompromised family inheritances. We tell ourselves that a solid bank portfolio is an absolute shield against the dark friction of reality.

But we habitually misread the columns of the baseline.

The ancient ledgers do not calculate value in paper currency. When you strike a bargain to preserve your worldly inheritance without checking the carrying costs, you aren’t clearing a debt—you are simply upgrading to a vastly superior, far more predatory master.

The traps of the mortal coil are never sprung with crude iron spikes. They are laid out elegantly on paper.

This is not a sanctuary. It is an industrial liquidation.

Turn the volume dial clockwise. Step past the glass showroom. Listen to Peter LeBlanc outline the terms of the acquisition before the night manager closes the books.

Stay in the light... or be swallowed by the shadows.

You believe you are safe because you run with the pack. You think there is shelter in numbers. But you misread the ledger.

Birds of a feather do flock together—but it doesn’t mean a sanctuary. It just means when the executioner finally steps onto the concrete, he doesn’t have to waste time hunting you down one by one. He clears the nest with a single stroke.

Chapter Three of THE LOT: “Birds of a Feather” is live. The link to stream the file instantly is pinned in the first comment below. Click the wire and listen before the auditor closes the books.

“A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished.”

— Proverbs chapter 22, verse 3.

For Thomas and Courtney White, the ledger did not open with a terrifying scream or a sudden, violent breach in the midnight dark.

No, it opened with the turn of a lock and the inheritance of a dream home in the sun-drenched intoxication of the Carmel Valley escrow clearance.

They believed a sprawling, mid-century modern architectural sanctuary nestled deep in the Santa Lucia foothills—backed by a solid portfolio and good bank standing—was an absolute shield against the haunts of everyday life.

And in so much as everyday life, they were right.

But the inheritance they took in, had nothing to do with life whatsoever.

In this jurisdiction, their default was written the moment they gave themselves over to five of the seven deadly sins.

Hidden deep within the property, behind the chained doors of a concrete outbuilding, sat a pristine, Aluminum Alloy-Bodied 1954 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing—immaculate, silver, and holding an unnatural, pulsing warmth beneath its metal skin.

The happy couple believed they had won an absolute lottery, an estate, a truly ‘unGodly’ amount of money, and a rarified chariot of steel.

What they did not understand is that the lottery ticket they won would be paid for in blood.

The ancient Bizango secret societies of the Haitian underground do not issue warnings, and they do not negotiate with banks.

They simply collect the principal balance.

Join us for the opening chapter of REPOSSESSION, and learn what happens when one’s appetite is bigger than one’s stomach.

Stay in the light, or be swallowed by the shadows.

Oh you can run, and in the interest of good sport by all means DO.

But you cannot hide.

Amos Chapter Five, Verse Nineteen:

“As if a man did flee from a lion, and a bear met him; or went into the house, and leaned his hand on the wall, and a serpent bit him.”

Such a shame, people should read more.

Now, Listen in if you dare, for Chapter two of Repossession, “In For A Penny”.

Welcome fellow travelers of the dark, tonight the illusion of a modern West Coast sanctuary is completely stripped away, and the cold, unyielding reality of a defaulted blood ledger takes center stage.

Tonight, Chapter Two of RE-POSSESSED, “In For A Penny,” is live and we will learn that the adgeage ‘you can run but you cannot hide’ holds true. Lock your doors, pretend you completely secure, close your eyes, cover your ears—but know a blood debt does not dissolve or disappear and when it comes calling you must pay.

Step into the suffocating, claustrophobic bowels of the Carmel Valley foothills where Thomas White sits bound to a chair inside a hidden subterranean sacrificial alter. Seated beside him a half decomposed but “breathing” catacature of dear Aunt Helen. He is about to learn exactly what a true family inheritance looks like.

And in the driveway sits the mechanical straight-six heart of the 1954 silver Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing, having just ignited all on its own in the driveway fog a spirit that will come to claim all.

The collections are being reassigned, the boundaries are breached, and the players are about to find out they are nothing but pawns in a larger game of cosmic proportions and unholy ‘corporate’ takeover.

Turn the key, incline your ears and listen if you dare… welcome back to THE LOT.

Welcome fellow travelers of the dark, the algorithms of the artificed platforms of world will tell you that a pristine mid-century modern architectural sanctuary nestled deep in the Santa Lucia foothills is the ultimate California dream.

They will tell you that a solid bank portfolio and an elite escrow clearance are absolute shields against the dark friction of reality. But to the ancient Bizango secret societies of the Haitian underground, these are meaningless and the ledgers they keep use the weighed currency of one heart, blood and soul. Tonight, the first official teaser trailer for RE-POSSESSED is lives beyond the graveyards of social media.

See what happens when Thomas and Courtney White cut the rusted iron logging chains on a darkened concrete garage outbuilding, freeing a cursed engine driven by a Voodoo blood pact— one that stands to turn their multi-million dollar inheritance into a funeral parlor. The headlights of the 1954 silver Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing have ignited in the pitch-black bay. Something has just opened its eyes on the asphalt, and the road is open once again as the toll taker waits to collect the principal balances owned in blood.Welcome to THE LOT. Re-Possessed chapter 1.

CHICKENS COME HOME TO ROOST —

“A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished.”

— Proverbs chapter 22, verse 3.

For Thomas and Courtney White, the ledger did not open with a terrifying scream or a sudden, violent breach in the midnight dark.

No, it opened with the turn of a lock and the inheritance of a dream home in the sun-drenched intoxication of the Carmel Valley escrow clearance.

They believed a sprawling, mid-century modern architectural sanctuary nestled deep in the Santa Lucia foothills—backed by a solid portfolio and good bank standing—was an absolute shield against the haunts of everyday life.

And in so much as everyday life, they were right.

But the inheritance they took in, had nothing to do with life whatsoever.

In this jurisdiction, their default was written the moment they gave themselves over to five of the seven deadly sins.

Hidden deep within the property, behind the chained doors of a concrete outbuilding, sat a pristine, Aluminum Alloy-Bodied 1954 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Gullwing—immaculate, silver, and holding an unnatural, pulsing warmth beneath its metal skin.

The happy couple believed they had won an absolute lottery, an estate, a truly ‘unGodly’ amount of money, and a rarified chariot of steel.

What they did not understand is that the lottery ticket they won would be paid for in blood.

The ancient Bizango secret societies of the Haitian underground do not issue warnings, and they do not negotiate with banks.

They simply collect the principal balance.

Join us for the opening chapter of RE-POSSESSED, and learn what happens when one’s appetite is bigger than one’s stomach.

Stay in the light, or be swallowed by the shadows.