the saltbox

  I’m done trying to play by the rules. I’ve tried posting this four times. I’ve had posts hit over 200,000 views only to vanish an hour later. If you missed it before they wiped it: My grandfather was a Chief Radioman (RMC) in the Navy from ‘50 to ‘75. He died in 2018 and left me a footlocker he told me to burn. I didn’t. Instead, I’ve been reading through thousands of pages of logs about something called Project ARCHER. The gist is that the Cold War was a cover. The U.S. and Soviets were working together to track "ANTs" (Aberrant Non-Terrestrial Signatures). Entropic fields. The files claim that the "shadows" at Hiroshima are what's left behind when a person gets pulled into one of these fields. He has logs from Operation Wigwam (1955) claiming they were trying to kill a massive biological signature in the Pacific. They lost men, and then they erased them from the photos. I’m dumping everything I have onto my user profile and my archive, which is linked in my ...

  Around four months ago, I inherited my father's footlocker and started posting about what I found inside. If you've been following me since September, you know some of this already, but if you're new, I'm sorry, this is going to probably be a lot, but I need to get everything out while I have the chance. They've been deleting my posts and scrubbing my accounts. I've been banned from r/ conspiracy, had posts removed from r/ HighStrangeness, and lost access to two Reddit accounts. Something appears to be actively hunting what I share online. I call it the DG, or the Digital Ghost, and I know the name sounds stupid, but that's all it is to me. A fucking ghost. A goddamn taunterer. I don't know if it's the government, some system they have in place, or if it's just corporate censorship bullshit, or something else. I've been on the run since, I think, October, but it's hard to tell. I've been sleeping in my car and moving every few days....

The sea is where I love to be. To know the sea takes time, you see. Seagulls and waves are crashing around me. The smell of salt is in the air. The sea is where my despair will be. To die at sea gives me peace. My love, the sea, time will show. I'm unsure of where to go from here. The possibility of sea creatures, scaly, and bile gives me my fear. One day I'll leave this pier. To know the sea is to know my psyche. I've fallen off the edge of the earth. It's time to disperse; goodbye, my love, the sea. May the sea rest with me for eternity. - Seaman Franklin 'Weeks' Young, USS Tawasa I found this folded in my grandpa's logbook. It was dated May 13, 1955. Just a day before Operation Wigwam.