​It’s 1964, and Gene Roddenberry is fighting a losing battle. NBC, who was airing his military drama The Lieutenant, has refused to air an episode called “To Set It Right,” a blunt jab at racism. The plot’s simple - a black and a white Marine clash over bigotry, forcing the lead, Lt. William Rice, to get the two to see eye to eye. Roddenberry, a WWII vet turned TV writer, saw it as a chance to spotlight a contemporary American issue. But the U.S. Marine Corps, who’d been providing equipment and extras, weren’t having it. They didn’t want their image tarnished by a story that showed bigotry in the Marines. Pressure mounted, and NBC - nervous about ruffling feathers - yanked the episode from its February 22, 1964, slot, airing a rerun instead.

Variety’s review two days later - February 24, 1964 - confirms “To Set It Right” made it to air somewhere, thus securing Nichelle Nichols' first television appearance. Roddenberry, not one to sit idle, rallied the NAACP, who saw the episode’s merit and leaned on NBC to reconsider, arguing it was a step toward racial dialogue. But the network, caught between sponsors, the Marines, and a divided audience, wouldn’t budge. 

The damage was done - the Marine Corps pulled support, and The Lieutenant was cancelled by March after 29 episodes. For Roddenberry, it was a gut punch but a revelation: going head-on with social issues could sink a show faster than a torpedo. Two years later, when he launched Star Trek, that lesson became his secret weapon - subtlety and allegory would carry his message where bluntness had failed.

The Lieutenant debacle wasn’t a dead end - it was a launchpad. Roddenberry learned the hard way that preaching directly to networks and viewers was a recipe for rejection. After that 1964 fiasco, he turned to science fiction, crafting Star Trek as a cosmic Trojan horse. Allegory and subtlety could slip past the radar where bluntness crashed and burned.

​Take “A Private Little War” from The Original Series - the Federation and Klingons arm a primitive planet, Neural, mirroring Cold War proxy battles like Vietnam. By setting it off Earth, Roddenberry made the critique digestible, letting viewers chew on superpower meddling without choking on politics. Or look at “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” - two aliens, one black on the left and white on the right, the other flipped, locked in a pointless war over a trivial difference. It’s racism distilled into a sci-fi metaphor, sharp yet subtle enough to dodge censors and stick with audiences. Even bigots could watch it without flinching, quietly opening up to the lesson.

Why does this work? Science backs it up - psych studies, like one from Frontiers in Communication (2021), show narratives processed easily, like allegories, persuade better than raw facts. They call it processing fluency: when ideas flow smoothly, they hit harder and linger longer. Roddenberry nailed this, cloaking big ideas in alien garb to make Star Trek a cultural juggernaut. “The Cloud Minders” is another example - elites float above toiling miners on Stratos, a sly jab at class divides that invites reflection, not resistance.

Sure, the original series eventually got axed after three seasons, but it roared back in syndication. This wasn’t a passive show you could half-watch while scrolling social media - it demanded attention, forced you to think. That allegory kept offense at bay, cracking open progressive ideas to just about anyone. Subtlety didn’t just save Star Trek - it turned it into a slow burn revolution, proving a whisper could outshout a sledgehammer.

Now fast forward to 2025. Alex Kurtzman’s Star Trek: Section 31, a Michelle Yeoh led spy flick, crashed on Paramount+ with a budget rumored between $80 and $150 million. Slate’s January 24, 2025, review branded it a “disaster” and “possibly the worst entry” in Trek history - clunky dialogue (“your corporate culture is straight up shit”), tonal whiplash, and a plot too shallow to honor Yeoh’s gravitas. Where Roddenberry wielded allegory like a scalpel, Section 31 swings a blunt axe, trading Trek’s depth for a generic action romp that forgets Trek’s soul.

Compare this to Roddenberry’s Trek bibles - the TOS Writer’s Guide (1967) and TNG Bible (1987) - the disconnect screams. These were his gospel, blueprints for a franchise that soared on hope and wonder. TOS demanded “action-adventure with meaning,” pushing writers to dodge tired tropes and spark awe - no “mad scientists” or cheap thrills. TNG went further: Earth’s a paradise, no poverty or war, crews united like family, no petty squabbles tearing them apart. Stories had to provoke through metaphor, not preach from a soapbox. Section 31 flouts them all: its cynical, gray toned espionage clashes with Trek’s optimism, its focus on rogue agents ignores crew harmony, and its lack of layered meaning betrays the bibles’ call for wonder. Roddenberry’s subtlety made Trek soar; Section 31’s heavy hand shows how far Kurtzman’s veered off course. The bibles begged for layered tales that linger; Section 31 delivers a heist so flat it’s DOA, with Slate hinting at studio meddling or slashed budgets leaving fight scenes limp and a climax that fizzles.

This isn’t just a misfire - it’s a case study in Kurtzman’s drift. Roddenberry’s subtlety turned “A Private Little War” into a Cold War mirror without a lecture; Section 31 can’t even nail a spy vibe, let alone a message. For a franchise that thrived on big ideas in clever disguise, this is a kick in the nuts - proof Kurtzman’s traded Trek’s warp drive for a stalled engine.

I’ve been waving this red flag since Star Trek: Discovery. It ditched Roddenberry’s playbook from the start. Where TOS and TNG used allegory to probe universal questions - Spock and Kirk balancing logic and emotion as a human mirror - Discovery leaned on serialized drama, emotional outbursts, and in your face commentary. Subtlety got swapped for spectacle; hope and wonder drowned in a sea of shouting matches and tear streaked confessions, and swelling orchestral cues that scream “feel this now.” Roddenberry’s Trek invited you to think; Discovery grabs you by the collar and yells its point.

Worse, it broke Trek’s canon and aesthetic. Spock’s secret sister Michael Burnham? Klingons, once rugged warriors with a code, get a bizarre makeover, bald and ornate, resembling Orcs more than their predecessors from The Motion Picture to Deep Space Nine. The ships and uniforms that clash with TOS’s retro charm is jarring at best. These weren’t tweaks - they were ruptures. Roddenberry’s Trek was a cohesive, optimistic universe where humanity had evolved past division. Discovery’s darker edge—war-torn, fractured crews, a Federation on the brink—tosses that vision out the airlock for shock value and grim stakes.

Fans felt the sting early. Season 1’s war arc and Burnham’s mutiny sparked fan backlash, while the Klingon redesign drew groans across forums. Roddenberry’s bibles - the TOS Writer’s Guide and TNG Bible - preached a future of harmony, not dysfunction; Discovery’s five season run kicked off a decade of drift that Section 31 only amplifies. Alex Kurtzman, steering this ship, traded Trek’s quiet brilliance for a louder, messier beast - less “Errand of Mercy” teaching peace through subtlety, more melodrama chasing modern TV trends. It’s not just a new take; it’s a betrayal of the cosmic Trojan horse that made Trek a legend, setting the stage for a franchise now teetering on the edge.

Then there’s Strange New Worlds, the supposed return to form. It’s episodic, yes, and it recaptures some of Trek’s optimism with Captain Pike’s easy charm and a crew that actually seems to like each other. But it’s still tethered to Discovery’s universe - its canon breaking aesthetics and convoluted backstory drag it down like an anchor. The redesigned Enterprise, the retconned Spock - it all feels like a glossy reboot rather than a true heir to Roddenberry’s legacy. Worse, it lacks subtlety. Where Roddenberry might have explored grief through a quiet parable, Strange New Worlds opts for overt trauma dumps, spelling out emotions instead of letting them breathe. It’s a step in the right direction, but it’s still miles from the destination.

The cracks in Kurtzman’s stewardship widened with a bombshell from Fandom Pulse on March 26, 2025. Actor Rob Kazinsky, who played a human in a mech suit named "Zeph", relayed a not so shocking admission if you've been paying attention: In a conversation between the two, Kurtzman told him, “Star Trek is dying.” 

Picture a starship drifting near a collapsing nebula, its captain scanning the void. Red Alert! Sensors blare - hull fractures spreading, warp core faltering—but he broadcasts calm to the crew while quietly putting out a distress call. In the engine room, a lone officer witnesses a coolant leak and communicates to the whole ship that the warp core is about to explode. She tries to patch a signal to the bridge, but the captain silences it, staring at stars that dim one by one. The crew watches, waiting for orders that never come, as the nebula’s pull tightens - an unseen end cloaked in cosmic silence.

​Section 31’s flop, following Discovery’s divisive run, paints a grim picture. The fact that Kurtzman actually admitted that "Star Trek is dying" is pretty damning. He knows he's running a damaged brand but refuses to take responsibility for the damage. He’s lashed to a mast of his own making, blind to how his allegory-free, blunt force Trek is running it aground. Kurtzman, facing backlash and a reported nine-figure misfire, seems content to steer Trek into the asteroid field. Instead of trying to right the ship, he decided to pull a 32-flavors approach that took an already niche genre and divided it into even more niches in the hope of snagging a newer generation of fans. He believes that in order to save Star Trek, you have to make it generic, but in the process, he transforms Roddenberry's vision into a monstrosity.

Paramount stands at a pivotal crossroads, teetering on the edge of a transformative moment in its storied history. The impending sale to Skydance, a media powerhouse, looms large, casting a long shadow over the studio’s future. Skydance, known for blockbuster hits like Mission: Impossible and Top Gun: Maverick, thrives on properties that deliver big audiences and bigger paydays. They’re not in the business of propping up underperformers or indulging in vanity projects - they want winners. For Paramount, this means Star Trek can no longer coast on its legacy; it has to earn its keep. 

Kurtzman’s tenure has been a slow unraveling. His "32-flavors" approach has splintered Star Trek into a large array of shows: Picard, Lower Decks, Prodigy, Section 31, Starfleet Academy. It’s a shotgun blast of content, chasing every demographic and trend, while diluting the franchise’s identity. What was once a starship soaring with purpose is now a leaky raft, patched with gimmicks and member-berries, drifting without a clear course. Picard turned a beloved captain into a robot; Discovery prioritized spectacle over substance; Section 31 misfired entirely. Even the animated Lower Decks and Prodigy, while less jarring, feel like side dishes to a main course that’s gone cold.

​If Paramount wants to save Star Trek, they need to pass the helm to someone who can chart the stars again. Roddenberry’s lesson - subtlety, allegory, hope - isn’t a relic of the past; it’s the lifeline to the future. The new leader must embody Roddenberry’s spirit: a storyteller with vision, not a showrunner chasing trends. Someone who respects canon but isn’t paralyzed by it, who can unify the franchise rather than fracture it further. They’d need to prune the excess - focus on one or two flagship shows, not a dozen - and rebuild trust with fans by honoring what made Star Trek endure. Kurtzman’s era has run its course; it’s time for fresh eyes to steer the ship.

FIRST ENLISTMENT
Arthur Fusco’s first enlistment in the U.S. Navy, spanning from October 1, 1970, to May 7, 1974, marked the beginning of a distinguished 22-year career as a Radioman. Initially enlisting in the U.S. Navy Reserve (USNR) on October 1, 1970, he was promoted to E-2 on February 1, 1971, during his inactive period, reflecting early recognition of his potential. Transitioning to active duty on July 25, 1971, as a Radioman in Mechanicville, New York, he began his active service with foundational training at the Naval Training Center in Bainbridge, Maryland.  From July 25, 1971, to November 5, 1971, he completed Radioman “A” School, followed by Basic Nuclear Weapons Training with the Nuclear Weapons Training Group Atlantic in Norfolk, Virginia, from January 17, 1972, to January 21, 1972. These courses equipped him for roles involving secure communications and nuclear-related operations during the Cold War. Arthur was advanced to E-4 (RM3) on October 27, 1972.
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From 1971 to 1974, he served at RAF Machrihanish, Scotland, which housed the U.S. Naval Aviation Weapons Facility, Machrihanish (NAWF) for storing, maintaining, and transhipping classified weapons, including nuclear depth charges for anti-submarine warfare. As a Radio Operator (RM-0000), Arthur likely handled communications supporting these operations, contributing to maritime security in the Atlantic against Soviet submarine threats. His service at this remote Scottish outpost, near Campbeltown, was recognized with the National Defense Service Medal, reflecting his role in Cold War readiness. By November of 1973, he was promoted to E-5. On May 7, 1974, Arthur was honorably discharged from Machrihanish, immediately reenlisting to continue his naval career, having accumulated 3 years, 2 months, and 22 days of active duty.

THIRD ENLISTMENT
Arthur Fusco’s third enlistment in the U.S. Navy, spanned from January 6, 1978, to October 30, 1984. Continuing his service aboard the USS Canisteo, serving as an E-5 in the Atlantic Fleet (LANTFLT) out of Brooklyn, New York. His role on the USS Canisteo involved managing advanced communications systems, including teletypewriter operations (e.g., AN/UGC-20/25, AN/UGC-6), radio transmitters (e.g., AN/URT-71, AN/URT-73), and converters (e.g., AN/URA-17, AN/SGC-1). Additional qualifications on the USS Canisteo, inlcuded operating AN/UGC-20/25 teletypewriter systems (January 25, 1978), AN/WRC-1 transmitters (March 25, 1978), and AN/SRR-19 systems (March 31, 1978).

By September 16, 1978, Arthur was promoted to RM1 (E-6). Additional training, included Landing Craft, Mechanized (LCM) training at Amphibious Base, Little Creek, Virginia, on June 28, 1979, and Position (POS) damage control operations training on July 14, 1979, reflecting his versatility in both communications and operational readiness.

This enlistment also included a transition to shore duty in Panama, where Arthur reported for duty at the U.S. Naval Communication Station (NAVCOMSTA) Balboa on December 10, 1981, marking a new chapter focused on strategic communications in the Inter-American Naval Telecommunications Network (IANTN). At NAVCOMSTA Balboa, he played a critical role in supporting communications for U.S. and allied navies across South America, leveraging his expertise in teletypewriter systems, radio operations, and cryptographic security. His responsibilities included serving as a basic control station and local message delivery point for Pacific-side Navy and Marine Corps activities, as well as supporting the U.S. Southern Command and annual circumnavigation operations of South America.

Arthur’s training accelerated. On April 14, 1981, he earned numerous qualifications, including general damage control, satellite communications (SATCOM), high-frequency teletypewriter operations, and fleet secure voice communications. On August 28, 1981, he completed a one-week course on the Airborne Early Warning Squadron (AESD) Naval Modular Automated Communications System (NAVMACS) and on May 7, 1982, he finished a one-week Communications Technician Training (CTT) course.

He was promoted to Radioman Senior Chief (RMS, E-7) on September 16, 1983, and earned his Third Good Conduct Award on July 25, 1984. On October 30, 1984, Arthur was honorably discharged from the Naval Communications Station Atlantic Detachment (NAVCOMMSTANTDET), Inter-American Naval Telecommunications Network (IANTN) Farfan, Republic of Panama, immediately reenlisting for his fourth enlistment, having accumulated 6 years, 9 months, and 25 days of active duty, 1 year, 6 months of foreign service, and 3 years, 8 months, and 16 days of sea service.

FOURTH ENLISTMENT
Arthur Fusco’s fourth enlistment in the U.S. Navy, spanned from October 31, 1984, to July 2, 1989. Reenlisting as an E-8 after his honorable discharge from NAVCOMMSTANTDET IANTN Farfan, Republic of Panama, Arthur began this enlistment in the Republic of Panama, continuing his shore duty at Farfan, an important node in the Inter-American Naval Telecommunications Network (IANTN). His role at NAVCOMMSTANTDET Farfan involved managing advanced communications systems, including teletypewriter repair (e.g., Model 28, UGC-4, UGC-20) and OMNOS communications systems management.

This period saw Arthur deepen his leadership responsibilities, completing a two-week Chief Petty Officer (CPO) Leadership and Management Education and Training (LCMET) course at the Naval Amphibious Base, Coronado, San Diego, California, from February 15, 1985, to February 28, 1985. His service in Panama included maintaining the IANTN’s communications infrastructure, supporting U.S. Southern Command operations, and facilitating annual circumnavigations of South America, as well as potential disaster response efforts. His continuing good behavior earning him the Fourth Good Conduct Award on July 25, 1988.
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This enlistment was notably marked by Arthur’s participation in a significant humanitarian operation, which likely led to his receipt of the Humanitarian Service Medal (HSM). His expertise in satellite communications (SATCOM), high-frequency teletypewriter operations, and fleet secure voice systems, qualified on April 14, 1981, at NAVCOMSTA Balboa, ensured effective coordination with regional navies and disaster response teams.

This period also saw his enlistment extended for 13 months on October 30, 1988, at the request and for the convenience of the government, extending his service until July 2, 1989. On July 2, 1989, Arthur was honorably discharged from the USS Knox, immediately reenlisting for his fifth and final enlistment, having accumulated 4 years, 8 months, and 2 days of active duty, 2 years, 1 month of foreign service, and 9 years, 3 months of sea service. His awards by this point included four Good Conduct Medals, the Navy Expeditionary Medal, Sea Service Deployment Ribbon with 2 Bronze Stars, National Defense Service Medal (2 awards), Navy and Marine Corps Overseas Service Ribbon, Meritorious Unit Commendation, HSM, and Navy Achievement Medal.

FIFTH ENLISTMENT
Arthur Fusco’s fifth and final enlistment in the U.S. Navy, spanning from July 3, 1989, to January 31, 1992, marked the culmination of his 22-year career as a Radioman Senior Chief (RMCS, E-8). Reenlisting immediately after his honorable discharge from the USS Knox (FF-1052) in Long Beach, California, on July 2, 1989, Arthur began this enlistment in Long Beach, continuing his expertise in naval communications systems management.

On August 1, 1989, he transferred from the USS Knox to the Naval Communications Station (NAVCOMMSTA) San Diego, with the move finalized on September 15, 1989, marking a return to shore duty in a key Pacific Fleet communications hub. At NAVCOMMSTA San Diego, Arthur managed advanced teletypewriter systems (e.g., Model 28, UGC-4, UGC-20), OMNOS communications systems, and other critical infrastructure. His role involved overseeing local modular automated communications systems, satellite communications (SATCOM), and high-frequency teletypewriter operations. This period also saw NAVCOMMSTA San Diego deliver over 48 million messages in 1989, underscoring the high volume and strategic importance of Arthur’s responsibilities, which included training and mentoring junior radiomen as a senior enlisted leader.

This enlistment occurred during a time of significant naval drawdowns following the end of the Cold War in 1991, his role likely included supporting routine naval exercises, maritime security operations, and potential disaster response coordination. His receipt of the Coast Guard SOS Ribbon, suggests collaboration or joint operations with the U.S. Coast Guard, possibly for maritime rescue, search-and-rescue missions, or other cooperative efforts in the Pacific, though specific events are not detailed in his records.

Arthur’s fifth enlistment ended with his honorable transfer to the Fleet Reserve on January 31, 1992, at NAVCOMMSTA San Diego, having accumulated 2 years, 6 months, and 29 days of active duty, with no foreign or sea service during this period, but with a total career service of 23 years, 2 months, and 8 days (including inactive service). His final awards included four Good Conduct Medals (ending 1976, 1980, 1984, 1988), the Navy Expeditionary Medal, Sea Service Deployment Ribbon with 2 Bronze Stars, National Defense Service Medal (2 awards), Navy and Marine Corps Overseas Service Ribbon, Meritorious Unit Commendation, Humanitarian Service Medal, Navy Achievement Medal, and Coast Guard SOS Ribbon.

Arthur Fusco passed away November 16, 2024 in San Diego, California. 

​My name is Jack Beers and I'm a Sim on The Sims 4. I live in the creepy old mansion in Forgotten Hollow that used to be owned by Vladislaus Straud, now called "Beers Manor" after my last name. How am I able to afford such a large residence? I'm a prominent writer who has written screenplays for every Dracula and Batman film that was greenlit in the 20th century. I'm also the author of the Official Vampire Encyclopedia and have composed hit music dedicated to my late cat, Munchie. It all makes good money in royalties and my place makes a great vampire layer, but royalties can only last so far.

​Recently, I decided to sell my writings directly to consumers by opening a shop in Magnolia Promenade called "Jack's Bookstore" to avoid the middlemen of publishers. My plan was to mainly sell all of my screenplays in book form, but also an occasional painting, as I had recently taken up the hobby and learned that the best paintings become expensive. 

​The store is small: a two-story building with a showroom on the bottom floor and the top floor set up as a small apartment. It used to sell random odds and ends but I made it a bookstore and gave it a creepy theme as appropriate for consumers of vampirism and Batman. 

I had decided that I would only run the store on weekends, Thursdays to Sundays, to avoid burnout and opened the store with a small celebration that was attended by a tiny gathering of people, mostly fans, when tragedy struck: One of the older attendees, a woman named June Vatore, just keeled over and died in the middle of the store. To our shock, we then watched as the Grim Reaper arrived to take her away, leaving nothing but an urn in her wake. 

I remember trying to do something... it was my store after all. I was in charge and I wanted to kick Death out of the shop or at least plead for the life of the woman I had just met, but I was frozen in terror. I just stood there and cried as the Grim Reaper carried out the death and then attempted to dance to the spooky music playing on the jukebox I had set up in the store, before he vanished into nothing. 

​I felt so bad. I felt hot - physically hot. I needed water and remembered going to the sink several times to drink an oddly large amount of water that day. The urn Death had left in my store was just sitting there and had to be removed to prevent further mourning from my customers, so I temporarily hid it in the upstairs apartment. That Monday, I took the urn and brought it home, since it otherwise would have been left unclaimed at Magnolia Promenade. I then tried to offer the urn some Sugar Skulls and put all of that behind me, but it became impossible when the following weekend, another customer died. 

Cameron was the first of two Landgraabs to die at the store. It was the same scenario as it was with Vatore: They keeled over, the Grim Reaper took them, the customers were traumatized, and I was left drinking more water and trying to figure out how to properly handle these deaths while managing a business. I dutifully took the urn home and gave it the same treatment I gave June's. At first, I summed it all up as a grim coincidence that would eventually stop, until the tragedy of the next weekend occurred. 

On my third weekend working the bookstore, two more customers died, Arjun Lothario and the second of the Landgraabs, Lindsay. Arjune died on a Friday and Lindsay died on a Saturday. It was shortly after bringing their urns back to my home when I began to believe that my little shop of horror-books was somehow cursed.

​When the fifth person, Roman Alley, died the weekend after that, I considered closing the store because it was then that I learned that it was the scorching heat of Magnolia Promenade that was causing elders to die of heat exhaustion in my store, as well as causing me to constantly reach for water to drink: That weekend was so hot that I realized that I needed a thermostat, but at the time, I concluded that I couldn't afford it, so I carried on without one, which I will forever regret. Then, for the next three weekends, nobody died at my store. I hoped that it meant the curse that I believed inhabited my store had somehow been lifted, but I was then presented with a whole new problem.

During those three weeks, it became clear that the spirits of the people that the urns had belonged to, had come back with me to Beers Manor and had since taken residency. At first, I was shocked and scared, but that seemed to pass quickly. I then made quick friends with some of those spirits and began documenting their existence. The first picture I snapped was a depressing selfie between myself and Arjun Lothario. The first painting was of Roman Alley when he didn't realize it. I was then able to take selfies of Cameron Landgraab and Roman Alley interacting with each other. I began to get along with the ghosts as well, and in return I was able to document them and sell the work at my shop to great success. 

When the sixth and seventh customers died, I once again considered closing the store. However, it had since made so much money off of the deaths and ghost hype that I changed my mind. Instead, I had learned to capture the ghosts on camera and in paintings and made the decision to sell them in the same store the ghosts had died in. While the spirits weren't happy... even embarrassed to be snapped on camera, the subsequent sales went through the roof, which is why I'm now writing a book on it. 

​This book is about the lives of the men and woman who died of heat exhaustion in a small gothic bookstore, only to live again as spirits in a very welcoming creepy vampire mansion. The lives of June Vatore, Cameron and Lindsay Landgraab, Arjun Lothario, Roman Alley, Cory Handy and Darrius Kim-Lewis not only live on in Beers Manor, but in this very book. 

​I never knew her. She just died in my store the first weekend it was opened. June Vatore was a retired schoolteacher, and she was very sweet, but shy. Before she died, she told me she was a fan of my work and was planning to make my store a "daily destination". I managed to find out from her family member, Lilith Vatore, that she also enjoyed family, television and the study of vampirism, which is what brought her to my work. 

The Vatores aren't well known but I hear they used to get along with the Strauds, a family whose patriarch built the home I now reside in - A home where June's spirit will now reside in forever. 

Cameron Landgraab was the second elder to die of heat exhaustion as she was reading a book in Jack's Bookstore (and Sauna). She died the second week of the store's existence, and her cousin, Lindsay, would join her the following weekend. Before she passed, Cameron approached me in my store and gushed about my later Batman screenplays and was interested in picking up some of my earlier Batman screenplays. 

Cameron has been described as a "cheerful", but "lazy" individual who "likes to practice" and "loves the color gray". Lindsay was a goofball who enjoyed, cold weather, borrowing things from friends and not liking the color green, making her an overall genius. Lindsay arrived at my store the week following her cousin's death originally to tell me off, but then we started to get along as we shared interests and mourned together... that is until she dropped dead at my feet. Once again, the Reaper came and left an urn. Once again, I was helpless to stop it. 

Unfortunately, that's all we can really give on Cameron and Lindsay, as we are currently in a feud with Cameron that I will write about in another book. Needless to say, that with all those deaths, I thought my store was somehow cursed.

​When we did get along though, I know Cameron was rooting for me, even if she once jokingly masqueraded as a "great, great, great, great" grandfather of mine. She was the one who made Lindsay understand that her death the week before was not my fault and I appreciated that.

As time passed, I was exposed to more of Cameron and Linsday as I took in more pictures and paintings and really began to wish that I gotten to know them better when they were still alive.

They have a large family out in Oasis Springs that has a deep history starting with Gregory Landgraab, who became a wealthy landowner. Yet their history dates back even further to the time of the great Admiral Landgraab. Their family holds a lot of respect in my eyes, and I just wanted to take this time to apologize to them and to let them know that I'm taking care of their urns in my home and their ghosts have been seen wandering my halls. 

​Poor Arjun Lothario dropped dead on the third week of my store along with Lindsay Landgraab. It was actually the first time I began to question if there was something wrong with the store. The only thing I learned about him before and after his death was that he had been interested in interviewing me. Though he doesn't seem to communicate much, he has been seen in ghost form at Beers Manor. Roman Alley, who died the following weekend, liked the color gray and disliked the color yellow. He was family oriented, a vegetarian and loved being around children. He came to the store out of curiosity, but unfortunately left in an urn.

After three weeks, Cory Handy "the Mohawk Guy", died right after arriving at the Thursday opening. He had described himself as a "romantic" and "erratic perfectionist" who hated the colors black and yellow. When asked about being dead, he said he was very sad about it and has conflicting feelings. 

The final death, Darrius Kim-Lewis was the son of Sun Young Kim and Bradley Lewis, with the Kim Family having emigrated from China. He's described himself as an "clumsy art lover" who also loved the outdoors and the color, while hating purple. He died just hours after Cory and was actually good friends with him. He had come to mourn and had died the same way as the others. The following week, I installed a thermostat. 

​To the memory of these seven souls and the families that raised them. While their ghosts roam the halls of my home for the time being, once they pass on, may they find peace in their deaths. Their urns will be forever enshrined in the basement of Beers Manor as a monument to them and their lives.

-Jack Beers, Author