Unworthy Of Your Love: A Dark Stalker

forbidden Romance Sasha Rc

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 UNWORTHY OF YOUR LOVE
Copyright © 2023 Sasha R.C.
All rights reserved.
First edition

Published in the United States

Book cover, book design, formatting:

Books4Movies/Order of The Bookish

Unworthy of Your Love is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents are the product
of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events etc. are entirely
a work of fiction and completely coincidental. There are no real events or people in this book.

NOTICE:
SEE WARNING, AUTHOR NOTE and
TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING
BEFORE READING
THIS BOOK.

authorsashachristophersen.org
There are millions of people that suffer with addiction every day.

A lot of us feel alone and feel as if there is no way out.

If you or someone you know is suffering with addiction,

please know that you are not alone.

You matter.
Below is the hotline number, there are people that
want to help when you are ready.

1-800-662- HELP (4357)

 This story will give you an insider’s view of what it is like to be addicted.
Please know that everyone’s addiction and experience is different.
Do not use this book as a blueprint to diagnose.
Please be aware that no two addictions are the same.
But this is their story.

Please read Trigger and Content warnings.

Your mental health matters.

This book is insane, not just the topics but also the writing style.
Please be advised that it is not meant to make sense and this book will be confusing.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE TIMELINE.

The timeline in this book is important.
Please also be aware that some of the details will be confusing,
some of them will not make sense.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

read all the warnings before reading this book.

You will be warned several times.

 SPECIAL WARNING - Please Read
PLEASE be advised that the main characters are under illegal substances throughout this entire book
which means that there are grammar issues, run on sentences, wrong words used, missing words,
repetitive thoughts, cut off thoughts, and cut off sentences. PLEASE remember that all of this was and
is intentional.
This book will give you a deep point of view of what it is like to be addicted to substances.
Remember that the characters are not meant to make sense.

Not only are the topics hard core but so is the writing style. Be advised that it might make you feel
uncomfortable with the thoughts that certain characters have.

You have been WARNED.

 Author Note
Hello my fellow readers,

This is a dark addiction stalker romance. This is a why-choose romance between the MFC (main
female character) and two MMCs (main male characters). Please be advised that there is a
relationship between all three characters including a sexual relationship between the two MMC’s.

This book dives right in from the start. The attraction of the MMC’s is instant, the sexual and desire
tension builds from page one. Please be advised that when the dark themes and topics start, they do
not stop, things happen quickly within these pages. There are things within this book that might trigger
and be uncomfortable for some readers.

Again, be aware there is breaking in/ grooming, rape, sexual assault, overdose, drug use, alcohol use,
sex trafficking and mind games that happens within this book.

PLEASE be advised that the main characters are under the influence of substances throughout this
entire book which means that there are grammar issues, run on sentences, wrong words used, missing
words, repetitive thoughts, cut off thoughts, and cut off sentences. PLEASE remember that all of this
was and is intentional.
This book will give you an in-depth point of view of what it is like to be addicted to substances.
Please remember that the characters are not meant to make sense.

This book is a work of fiction and there are no true events that take place inside these pages. Please
read the trigger and content warnings.
 Trigger/Content Warning
This is A Dark Addiction Stalker Romance. This is a ‘why choose’ romance between the MFC (main female character) and two
MMCs (main male characters). Please be advised that there is a relationship between all three
characters including a sexual relationship between the two MMC’s.
There are dark sexual elements and themes in this book which include: bondage, breathe play, anal,
knife play, praising, dominant sexual behaviors, and submissive sexual behaviors.
Other dark elements and themes in this book include psychological abuse, mental abuse, sexual
assault, rape, breaking in/grooming, stalking, foul language, drug use, alcohol use, forced overdose,
sex trafficking, violence including murder, and tortured and possessive controlling Main Male
Characters.
The grooming/ breaking in of the MFC is rough, and in detail which includes drugging the MFC
during sexual acts, taking pictures of the MFC while she is sleeping.
The situations that take place inside this book maybe uncomfortable for some readers, if breaking in/
grooming, drugging, rape, or sexual assault is something you are not comfortable with I would advise
you to stop reading now.
PLEASE be advised that the MC’s are under substances throughout this entire book which means that
there is grammar issues, run on sentences, wrong words used, missing words, repetitive thoughts, cut
off thoughts, and cut off sentences. PLEASE remember that all of this was and is intentional.
This book will be giving all of you a deep point of view of what it is like to be addicted to
substances. Please remember that the characters are not meant to make since.

This book is fiction. There is no real events or people inside this book. This book is all fantasy. I
want to make it clear that I do not condone anything that happens in this book.

Please use caution. You know yourself best. You have been warned.

It is advised that this book is for mature adults over 18.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

 A Special Dedication

Nicole Meacham-
Here is a different kind of stalker for you friend.
Thank you for all of your support and for being amazing.
I appreciate you.

Order of The Bookish-

to my PA/manager/my everything, my editors,
my cover designer, and formatter, to my promoters, street team-
I don’t even know where to start, you are all so amazing and I wouldn’t have been able to do this
without you guys, thank you for all you do, you are amazing, and I appreciate you so much.

ARC/Street Team-
You are all so amazing, thank you for always being willing to read my crazy stories.

To All of My Readers:
Thank you so much for taking the chance and reading my books.
I appreciate all of you and I couldn’t have made my dream a reality without you.

Kay-
Girl thank you, thank you for being you.
Thank you for believing in me.

Mel Staab, my Alpha Reader-

Thank you so much for what you have and are doing.
I appreciate you falling in love with my stories as much as I have.

Bretnie Shepherd-
Thank you for being you, for staying up until 4 am with me on the phone listening to my craziness
and helping me with coming up with more crazy-ass ideas.
Thank you for creating the chapter symbol for this book. You are absolutely amazing.
I appreciate you so much.
 Contents
SPECIAL WARNING - Please Read
Author Note
Trigger/Content Warning
A Special Dedication
Contents
Playlist
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Other Books by Sasha R.C.
Acknowledgements
About the Author:
 Playlist

Bottom of a Bottle by Smile Empty Soul

Let it Die by Three Days Grace
Break by Three Days Grace
Bad Things by I Prevail
From Yesterday by Thirty Seconds to Mars
On my Own by Three Days Grace
Somebody That I Used to Know by Three Days Grace
The Thunder Rolls by All That Remains
Over and Over by Three Days Grace
In the End by Linkin Park
Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch
Under Your Scars by Godsmack
Awake and Alive by Skillet
Cold by Crossfade
Empty House by Jelly Roll
Legacy by Motionless in White
Stiletto by Seconds Away
Listen to Your Heart by Through Fire
Darkside by Neoni

Find the complete Unworthy of Your Love playlist on Spotify

 Prologue

They say it’s wrong to desire something that you don’t deserve.
They say it’s wrong to desire something that you are unworthy of.
They say it’s wrong to stalk, dream, and love someone that doesn’t know you’re there, but those
people have never spent a minute inside of my scary fucking addict brain.
All the things that they say are wrong are things that I see in my world daily.
Addiction comes at a cost, they say. They say to be aware of the lure and the pull that drugs and
alcohol can bring.
They try to warn those of us that already know the fucking warnings and honestly, we don’t fucking
care about them. I knew all of this when I started, and the cost was worth paying then and I have no
problem paying it now. When you’ve been raised in the environment I was in, you would understand
why the dope and the booze are my only way out.
The dope promised me numbness, distance, and isolation.
The booze promised me courage, joy, and happiness.
So far, they have given me exactly what I wanted. So far, they have given me exactly what they
promised. They have kept all of their promises to me.
 The darkness inside me is calling my name, and I am willingly taking its hand without question.
The hands that have been slowly killing me.
Can something kill you if you already feel dead inside? Can someone feel love, know love if they
are dead inside? These questions continue to overtake my head, causing me to lose more control of
myself.
Even though I feel the way I do, the calling of wanting to be wanted, to be loved, is still there. I am
human after all. Humans need connection, we need to feel like we are a part of something, of
someone.
I wonder if someone can change your entire world by just being a part of it. I wonder if love can
change a man like me.
Does love like that fucking exist? If so, lead me in the right direction, because so far, I haven’t
been able to find it.
Can love save you when you don’t know you need saving?
I’m not deserving of compassion and love, those two things I will never deserve.
After all, an alcoholic addict like me doesn’t deserve love and compassion. I deserve the comfort
of the darkness, not the light. I never deserve the light.
I have always wanted things that I shouldn’t, everything I touch seems to get destroyed.
I am not a good man, I am a criminal, I am cruel, heartless, selfish, and mean.
So, I will suffer alone, and I will die alone, just the way my addictions said I would.
After all, an alcohol and drug addict like me needs the substances to keep their promises, and so
far, they have. So far, they are the only thing that has kept me above water, while also killing me.
It is the price you pay to escape. It is the price I am willing to pay to escape myself. There is no
turning back. There is no fucking reason to.
 I have seen what others never will, seen what the world really is like behind the light. The
darkness takes over and covers my eyes from the normal world. I have done things that others never
will. I have forced myself to take from others, enforce pain and suffering, and I have never thought of
what the consequences would be.
The consequences of losing myself in a lifestyle that only wants more, that will always need more
from me.
My thoughts have been dark and twisted, a dangerous black hole within myself. The hole continues
to get deeper, and I continue to fall. Free falling into the unknown. The dope gives me a way out,
away from myself. The dope has promised that it would take away the disgusted feeling I get as I look
at myself in the mirror. The booze gives me the courage to stand on my own two feet and continue to
go on, even when I feel like my knees are going to give out.
The sex allows me to give my pain to another, to use them however I want. That need of being
needed and wanted is a fucking addiction in itself.
Everything was fine.
Or so I thought.
But when we think we have everything under control, that’s when we realize that we don’t know
shit.
 Chapter 1
Gabriel

Sarah’s pussy wraps tighter around my dick as I continue to push in and out of her at a rough and
violent pace. We both know what the fuck we need from each other. I don’t need to be fucking loved, I
just need someone to help get rid of the heavy fucking pain in my chest, even if it’s only for a little
while.
The pain in my chest is weighing me down to the point that I can’t breathe, but don’t know what I
would do if it just stopped. Which makes me feel more uncontrolled. More uneasy with the idea of not
being able to control shit. But I can control this, I have to fucking control this.
The only time my head is quiet, or at least quieter, is when I’m balls deep in a fucking chick or
high or drunk, or any combination of the three. The rest of the time, my thoughts and emotions are
completely fucking irrational. The more I try to control them, the more irrational and uncontrolled I
become. I am a fucking wrecking ball destroying everything and everyone around me.
In this moment, my heart is racing, my legs are starting to shake with the need of wanting to feel,
but also being afraid to feel. What a dangerous fucking combination. A combination that is slowly
starting to destroy me from the inside out. But I shouldn’t be surprised that my need for escape is
starting to destroy me. It was always supposed to, I just never wanted to admit it, and I still don’t.
The lie is sweeter than the reality I am living, the life that I have created for myself, or more like
the one that was always meant to be mine from birth. Nothing is easy in my life, and nothing will be
easy due to the fact that I make everything so fucking complicated.
I shove my face against Sarah’s neck and tighten my grip on her legs, digging deeper into her skin,
likely leaving bruises, she lets out a moan as her pussy wraps tighter, her release washing over my
dick. A few more deep thrusts and I fall forward, burying myself deeper as I find my release.
I release her legs and cage her against the tree, her body slick with sweat as the rain continues to
fall down on both of us. She always comes when I call, we both need the escape from reality and
sometimes we can find it in each other. No attachments, no regrets, just a violent fuck and we both
move on until the urge comes back.
The urge always comes back, it will never be enough, I am chasing something that is always right
out of reach. I can see it, I can almost feel it, then it gets ripped away from me. A sick game I keep
playing willingly because I am not strong enough to stop.
“Gabe,” she moans.
I pull back from her as she tries to catch her breath, and I pull my spent dick out of her dripping
pussy that it has gotten to know so fucking well, and I back away from her. I reach down and pull up
my boxers and jeans as I continue to back away. She fucking had to say my name like that, with desire
and longing. Fucking hate that.
She knows how I feel about her saying my name like that, it fucking turns me off, it makes me want
nothing to do with her. I don’t need her desire or longing for me, I just need her fucking pussy, I just
need her pain. Everything else is a turn off, and too fucking much.
Is it so hard to just fuck with no emotions?
 I don’t want to feel what others feel, I feel enough already. I feel the pain, hurt and suffering inside
me, reminding me of who I am, where I came from and where I am heading. The pathway was set in
stone for me the moment I tried drugs for the first time. I gave my soul away; I willingly gave into this
life.
Even this life I guess can disappoint, like right now. I’m disappointed to hear Sarah say my name.
I’m disappointed that I heard the desire and need in her voice for me. It hurts because I will never be
able to give her a normal fuck, a normal life. We are fuck buddies. That is all we will ever be. And
one day soon I know I will have to walk away from her because she will want more.
I am not willing to give her more, I don’t have it to give her.
Sarah turns and looks at me as I pull out a smoke and light it, inhaling a deep toke and releasing the
smoke into the air as the rain continues to fall.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, Gabe,” Sarah says softly, but I know she’s fucking lying to me.
Sometimes I think she forgets who the fuck I am, that I don’t do this whole boyfriend-girlfriend love
shit.
Sometimes she forgets what the fuck we have here, but I will continue to remind her. If she wants
me to love her, need her, she is going to be very fucking disappointed. I don’t need her; I just need the
escape her pussy gives me. If she needs me to love her, she will be even more disappointed. I don’t
know how to love, not in the way she is wanting.
Since the beginning I have been nothing but honest with her with what I want, she says she
understands and that she doesn’t want more from me, but her tone, her eyes fucking tell me differently.
We need to fucking cool off for a while, maybe that will help remind her what the fuck this is.
Sarah is fucking stunning - covered in tattoos, long blonde hair, deep green eyes, she is a sight to
behold, and she fucking knows it. Every guy in this damn town wants a piece of her, but for some
reason she latched onto me. I don’t want to be a dick, but this is who I am. I am violent, distant and
cold, and I won’t be changing for anyone. This is what has kept me alive.
“It’s fine, I’ll call you later,” I say in a distant voice. Distance is what I do best, it’s what I’m
comfortable with. Distance means you won’t get fucking hurt.
“Okay,” she says as she pulls down her dress and pushes off of the tree, walking around me and
into the darkness of night.
I lean against the tree and the demons in my head take over. Love, compassion, desire, longing -all
those things scare the fuck out of me, because I’m not worthy of any of it. I’ve always been unworthy
of it. I can handle pain, rage, and violence, it isn’t Sarah’s fault that I am this way, but this is who I
am. There is no changing me and she knows it.
A twig breaks behind me. I turn around, scanning the darkness, looking for the person that’s lurking
just outside of where I can see.
“Dude, where have you been?” A voice says from the trees.
I relax as Kyson walks out of the darkness and stops beside me. By his tone I can tell he is loaded
and a little drunk. The party was getting to be too much, the woods and the silence is what I needed,
and a good fuck, which Sarah gave me.
Even with us both being high and drunk, we both will remember everything from tonight, just like
we remember most nights. The more we want to forget, the more our brain makes sure that we
remember. It is our punishment. It is the consequence of us being fucking us.
“Had to get out of there, Kyson,” I reply.
 Kyson loves wild parties and things getting out of control. I can handle it most times, but I’d rather
be on my own. The chaos is nice sometimes, but too much of it makes me feel even more on edge than
I already am.
“Come on back man, the party is going wild,” Kyson says with a smile. He’s always trying to make
sure that I’m okay, but I’m never okay. I’ve just learned how to survive in this fucked up world.
I shake my head at my best friend and say, “No I’m gonna go for a walk, you go have fun.”
He stares at me for a minute before asking, “You okay?”
Even when he’s loaded and drunk, he still tries to make sure that I’m good. He is loyal like no one
I have ever met.
I nod. He doesn’t need to hear about the chaos that is raging on in my head right now, he wants to
have fun and I’m not going to take that away from him. He deserves to get lost in pussy, drugs and
booze. I can suffer on my own.
“Yeah, just need to escape,” I confess. The escape that I need is something that I never seem to
find, not fully anyways.
Kyson nods and turns around, heading back the way he came. He’s learned not to ask questions; he
knows I won’t answer them. He wants me to let him in, and in some ways, I have, but I keep even my
best friend at a distance.
I push off the tree and start walking in the direction of the hospital. These woods have been more
of my home lately than my actual fucking house. Out here, I feel free, and the voices inside my head
aren’t as loud, but they are always there, haunting me, screaming at me to get more.
I take in another big drag off my smoke as I stumble through the woods. The dope and booze are
finally starting to take effect, and soon I won’t even be able to fucking walk. I stop at the edge of the
woods and lean against a tree, staring across the street at the Emergency Room entrance. The same
entrance I’ve been rushed into more times than I can count. It’s what happens when you drink and do
drugs like I do. We all wind up in the emergency room, or worse, on a cold slab in the morgue.
I watch nurses and doctors and other staff run out of the doors, as an ambulance rushes to the
entrance, another one down. I scan over the workers, and I spot one girl. She is standing still,
watching everything happen, she doesn’t seem confident or sure of what to do like the others, she must
be new. Maybe she doesn’t work at the hospital at all, she’s in normal street clothes, telling me that
she’s just a normal girl watching someone’s nightmare come true.
I wonder what she’s thinking, standing there, watching someone like me deal with the
consequences of their life choices. What does she think about people like me, people that are
addicted, violent, distant, and cold?
She starts to slowly walk away, keeping her eyes on the guy that’s being looked at and rushing
through the open doors. He’ll either live and choose to change, live and make the same damn mistake,
or he will die because of his use or whatever the fuck happened.
Me, I will continue to use, I will continue to make the same mistake over and over again until my
addiction takes me - it’s the deal I make with the substances I take every damn day.
And when you make a deal with the devil like I have, there is no fucking escaping the end result.
You just continue on doing the fucked-up shit until one day the devil takes you, and it’s all over.
I wonder if hell is better than the reality of my life.
I wonder if hell will welcome me for the person I have become, or if hell itself will turn its back
on me. Well, with how my addiction has been lately, I will probably find out sooner rather than later,
and until then, I’ll continue to give into my desire and urges without question.
 Chapter 2
Kyson

I stumble my way through the woods, Gabe is not ready to talk to me, and for good reason, that
man has been through more shit than a hundred people have. Sometimes he lets me in and other times,
he doesn’t, but one thing I have learned about my best friend is that when he’s ready, he’ll talk.
I make my way out of one side of woods and onto the sidewalk toward the other woods that takes
me to our house. Even high and fucking drunk, I can find my way back to our house. One time though, I
was gone for a whole fucking week, but eventually Gabe found me. I was high and drunk as fuck, and
found comfort in a fucking bush in the middle of the woods by our house. At least I wasn’t that fucking
far away from it.
I lean against a tree as I try and catch my breath, okay once again I think I fucking over did this shit.
I can never just have fucking one. I know that my brain knows that, fuck even my body fucking knows
that but that doesn’t stop my fucking lust for the good shit from saying ‘dude just one more, come on
dude.’
The voice of addiction is louder than anything else. Gabe and I have been using so long that our
tolerance doesn’t fucking help our escape. It just means that we have to do more. Even on nights like
this when I know I have overdone it, I know I could do more if I wanted. Even with me starting to feel
sick, I know I won’t get sick.
When you’re in this life as long as we have been, you know your limits. Most days and nights
when we use, you wouldn’t even fucking know it. Thanks to our tolerance, thanks to us being in this
life this long. It is a crazy thing; all of this is crazy. A normal person would stop, a normal person
would fucking run, but I am not normal, Gabe is not normal, and we will be in this life until the day
we die.
Don’t fucking ‘dude’ me, I should have fucking stopped. I shake my head, as the battle in my head
gets louder. I am always at war within myself. You wouldn’t know it, I hide it well, Gabe most times
can hide it well, but he is losing control tonight and now I am.
It’s a battle within myself trying to separate what I need and what I desire, but for the most part I
just fucking give into whatever shit my mind and my body is asking for. Normally I fucking regret it,
like right now in this moment as my brain tells me that I need more, and at the same time is screaming
at me because I took too much.
Fucking crazy man. I feel my stomach start to twist as I rest my forehead against the tree, taking in
deep breaths. Maybe the fresh air will help, or it will make me throw up, haven’t really figured out
which one it’ll be just yet.
I feel someone grab onto my arm, forcing me to pull my head back and look down, my vision is
blurred but I fucking would remember her anywhere. Sage fucking Rainer
“Kyson,” she whispers.
 The encounter with her and Gabe has made him lose his mind, and now without her fucking saying
more than my name I’m starting to understand why. We all went to school together. She was always
nice and accepting, which is painful for me because she doesn’t fucking judge, she doesn’t talk shit,
she just looks at you and her eyes look right into your soul. Just like she’s looking at me right now.
Even with blurred fucking vision and being completely fucking high, she is affecting me.
I look into her deep eyes; fuck they are deep and all-consuming.
Does she know how she looks at me?
Does she know how she looked at Gabe?
“Sage,” I whisper.
My heart was already racing being I am fucked up but now because of the way she said my name,
the way her hand is resting on my arm, it feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Nope,” I shake my head, feeling my stomach turn even more.
She pulls my arm around her neck, I start to lean into her when I become shaky on my own legs,
yeah this is just fucking great.
Sage leads me in the direction of my house. I was going to ask her how she knows where I live, but
then again this is a small town. I shouldn’t fucking be surprised.
“What did you take Ky?” she asks in a concerned voice.
“That is a very good question Sage, I don’t remember,” I say with a chuckle. I never ask questions
when people give me shit, I just take it.
She just shakes her head and continues to help me into the forest, using it as the shortcut. This
small town is surrounded by woods, and we all know that it’s quicker to go through them than around
them.
“It’s been while Sage,” I say to break the weird ass silence, but Sage has always been quiet, like
Gabe. Me, I’m outspoken, loud as fuck, and always doing something.
“Yes, it has Ky,” she confirms gently. She’s so gentle. “How is Gabe?” she asks.
I don’t know what happened in the hospital between them, but I know her words fucked him up. He
hasn’t seen her since he was in the hospital even though he talks about her all the time. He won’t let
anyone else see his feelings but me, although there are times, like tonight, when he hides them from
me too.
“As well as I am,” I answer, feeling my stomach turn more.
“I haven’t seen him since the hospital,” she confirms, her voice sad.
“Yeah, well you haven’t been at the hospital,” I whisper before I can stop the words from coming
out of my mouth.
Gabe and I have watched the hospital off and on, and she stopped going to work there, which
makes both of us confused. From what Gabe said she seemed to be good at her job. Honestly, it's none
of my business why she hasn’t been there, but Gabe and I always seem to put our noses where it
doesn’t belong. She doesn’t respond but she does pick up her pace and I have to really focus on
putting one foot in front of the other to keep up with her. I take deep breaths and focus on not throwing
up on her.
I stand up straight, removing my arm from around her. “Thank you, Sage,” I say seriously, leaning
toward her so I can see her more clearly.
“Take care of yourself, and him, okay?” she whispers.
I nod and look down at her. Her baby blue eyes stare back at me.
“I’ll try,” I tell her.
 She looks up at me, sad, as she looks over my face. She lifts up her hand and pats my chest, then
she turns around and walks back the way we just came. I turn and watch her disappear into the
blackness of the woods.
Fuck. I don’t ever remember her making me feel this way in high school. Maybe it’s the booze
talking, maybe it is the dope talking, but I have a feeling that things are about to fucking change.
 Chapter 3
Gabriel

I’m standing outside of my house, and I can hear them screaming. Our house has always been filled
with screams of either pain or anger, and most of the time it’s both. People look at me like I’m an
outcast. I guess, in many ways, I am. I don’t fit in anywhere, and the places I should fit in don’t want
me, they have made that clear. Being an outcast used to bother me, but now I don’t fucking care. Me
being alone is better anyway, I don’t have to answer a million fucking questions about myself or my
family.
People don’t ask questions because they care, they ask questions because they are judging. They
aren’t trying to understand, they’re trying to find evidence that I am a lost cause, and I am. I am a lost
cause. It would be pointless to lie, and act like I got my shit together. I don’t have my shit together, I
don’t think I ever did, and when I thought I did I was just lying to myself. The lie was sweet, and I
believed it forever, but now it’s time to face the fucking music.
My birth father has told me on a daily basis that I’m unworthy of living at all, that I was a mistake
and that he never wanted me. I guess that’s what happens when you’re born into a world full of
addicts and alcoholics. My birth parents made it clear what’s important to them and they let me know
that it isn’t me. Parents are supposed to love their children, but my birth parents don’t know what that
word means, and neither do I. I just know that I’m not worthy of whatever the fuck it is.
A chuckle leaves me as the nickname I’ve given them runs through my mind. I do know that it takes
more to being parents than just fucking and pushing out a kid, you have to actually love and want that
fucking child, and they don’t love or want me. I can do whatever the fuck I want, they don’t ask
questions, they’re too busy fucking whoever walks in wanting dope or booze.
They can’t even stand looking at me anymore, and I can’t blame them, I can’t look at myself either.
I’ve broken all the fucking mirrors in the house just making sure I don’t try and look. When I did look
in the reflection, I was ashamed of who was staring back at me, so it’s just better and easier to just not
look at all.
The man I am becoming is not who I wanted to be, but it is who I am becoming anyway.
I need to fucking escape, escape the madness inside my head, escape the madness outside of me.
All of it, I just want it to fucking disappear, and being sober is not doing it. I promised myself that I
would never use, I would never be like them, but then again, I was already lying to myself. The pull to
this life is stronger than I am, and if my birth parents don’t want me, and this sober world doesn’t
want me, I know the addiction will. The addiction is always looking for new souls to take.
The voice of addiction has called to me since I was little, but I always refused to listen. I refused
to give into it because I truly believed that I was meant for more. I don’t believe that anymore. I don’t
believe the lie I told myself. I see it for what it was now. I come from a long line of addicts and
alcoholics; the odds were fucking against me before my birth parents fucked.
I walk up the steps and take a seat on the top step to look out over our backyard. It’s nothing but
weeds and burnt grass, shit everywhere. My life has always been like this. I don’t know why I ever
thought it would be anything different, that I could escape the life I was born into.
 I look down at the five white pills I took from the counter. The pills have to make me feel better,
they have to take me the fuck away from here. I need a way out. I need to fucking escape. I throw them
into my mouth without a second thought and close my eyes as I swallow them dry.
I look up to the sky, I know the pills will keep their promise. They’ll make me feel numb, even if
it’s for a little while. I tried to get a better life, but I was just fucking kidding myself. I was just living
a lie, because I was always meant to be this - this broken man, this worthless man. My parents are
right, I am worthless.
Who in the fuck would ever want me?
I don’t even want me.
I am undeserving of love and compassion. I have never felt those two things from anyone around
me except for Kyson, and he’s already an addict. He is my best friend and if he can escape this way,
then I want to escape with him. It’s time I stop trying to kid myself and become the one person
everyone already thinks I am.
I’m sitting here staring up at the sky, feeling butterflies flutter in my stomach. I know it won’t be
long now. Soon, very fucking soon, none of this will matter.
The beatings won’t matter, the cussing and violence won’t matter, and the touching won’t matter.
They can do whatever the fuck they want to me because I won’t feel a fucking thing.
Oh, how I can’t fucking wait.
 Chapter 4
Kyson

I sit against the porch as the drugs start to take effect. The more I take, the more I need. It’s this
never-ending fucking cycle of needing more, of needing to feel nothing. Let that fucking sink in for a
minute.
I lean back as I feel my heart rate start to increase, a side effect of the drugs, maybe I shouldn’t
have mixed them, but one drug wasn’t enough, it’ll never be enough. Most normal people can find
ways to deal with everyday life, but if you have seen the things that I have seen, you would need the
dope and booze too.
If you lived the life I have so far, you wouldn’t ask me why I want to be anywhere but where I am.
It would make since why mixing the drugs is a solution for me right now. A solution that won’t last but
it will give me just enough time to get more. I will always get more, it is easy when you come from
drugs dealers, I can have as much as I want, and I am never questioned.
The sex, well that’s just a bonus. When you have a father like mine, there’s no choice but for me to
start young. The expectation is that you do the dope, you drink the booze, and you take the pussy
without question. I wouldn’t be addicted to shit if it wasn’t for my family. They’re all drug dealers
and I learned how to make dope before I learned how to ride a bike. I will say that the odds were not
in my favor.
People don’t really know my family, and they never will. We’re good at hiding the cracks in our
foundation, and we only let people see what we want them to see. The only person that knows
anything is my best friend Gabe. He comes from a broken family, somewhat like mine. Our parents
are different in many ways, regardless, the end result is we’re both fucked up because of our parents.
He's the only one I trust with my fears and with me questioning what my family wants from me.
I’ve never told my father no when he’s asked me to do something or has asked me to sit in with him.
At a young age, I sat at the table next to my father as they talked about business. It’s just what we do in
our household, no secrets, no second guesses. My entire family has been in the business of drugs for
like fucking ever.
We have many fronts for the community, but they’re all lies, just like the lie I’m telling myself right
now. The lie that the dope will take away my pain and make me feel nothing. It never keeps its
promise the way it did the first time, Gabe will find that out soon enough. You’ll spend the rest of
your days chasing a high that you’ll never ever be able to fucking touch again.
What a sick fucking twisted game, but I’m willing to play, gamble, lose and try and try again.
I open my eyes when I hear the women scream from inside the house. I try lifting myself off of the
porch, looking for the fucking strength to get up.
 I shake my head as the fuzziness I’ve been chasing increases, I can’t get enough of this feeling. I
stumble my way up the porch, into the house, down the hallway, and into my father’s room. He always
keeps the damn door open. I think he likes people hearing who he fucks, he enjoys letting my mother
know where she stands with him. They both fuck other people, and when they’re together, they are
together. It’s wrong to the outside world, but in our family, having an open relationship is just a part
of the deal.
I lean against the door frame, and I am frozen by what I am witnessing. I see my father kicking a
woman that is on the ground next to his bed. They are both naked, and he is screaming, and she is
crying, whatever this is, it isn’t something she signed up for.
My father stops, turns and looks at me, there is no love in his eyes, only rage and disgust. My
father is a violent man, a man that doesn’t like to be told no. No one tells him no and gets away
without getting hurt.
The tears escape and start to roll down my face as the dope takes full effect, as I watch my father
turn back around and grab the girl. He forces her up and pushes her over the bed frame, he shoves her
face into the sheets as he grabs his dick and takes her from behind. I feel my stomach turn as I push off
of the door frame and turn around and go back outside.
I want to help her, I want to stop him, but I can’t. If I go in there and stand up for that poor fucking
woman, the beatings to the both of us will be so much fucking worse.
This is the life we live in; these are the things we have to learn to live with.
 Chapter 5
Gabriel
I open eyes, my breathing continues to be rapid and all fucking consuming while I try and process
what the fuck woke me up, I wipe my chest and my hands come away wet, I’m fucking covered in
sweat again. The nightmares from my past always seem to find their way in when I give into the
blackness of sleep. It doesn’t matter how much booze I drink or dope I use; they don’t keep their
promise of taking away the nightmares.
Nightmares always wake me up after a few hours, I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s
sleep. Another after-effect of what I’ve lived through and who I am now. There are always echoes of
the past, we never truly get over it or move on from it, no matter how hard we try. Because believe
me, I have fucking tried.
Even though I will never be able to fully run from myself, it doesn’t stop me from trying. Every
fucking second of every fucking day. I am trying and will continue to try until my last fucking breath.
One day I’ll grab onto that feeling I’m chasing and this time I will not let it fucking escape me like it
did the first time I used. I should have hung onto that shit, but I didn’t fucking know I would never feel
that high again.
Lesson fucking learned.
I sit up and swing my legs over the bed, it’s now that my stomach decides it’s going to make itself
known by cramping up on me. I sit looking out of the open window, it’s dark, probably in the middle
of the night, the cold air pushes its way through my room and still I feel like I’m on fire. This is my
body's way of telling me that it’s time to do more dope. If I don’t soon, I’ll start to go through
withdrawals, and every time that happens, I wind up in the hospital or puking my fucking brains out.
Both are never a good thing.
I get up from the bed on shaky legs. I can’t make things out clearly, and my balance is fucked. I’m
able to get across my room and into the bathroom. I find the light switch and turn on the bathroom
light, stumbling to the counter. I find a white line already sitting out and waiting for me, I don’t
remember fucking leaving out dope so it must have been Kyson. He’s always making sure that we
both have what we need to not go through withdrawals.
I lean down, plugging my left nostril, as I sniff the line with my right. I stand up, feeling the burn in
my nose as the rest drains down my throat, letting me know that soon I will feel fucking better than I
do right now. My tolerance is getting higher and higher, so I’m not surprised that I already need more,
even though I know I just used it a few hours ago. With Kyson and I being drug dealers, we have an
unlimited supply of dope, and when we want something else, we know which drug dealers have what
shit.
We have all the connections we need in this world to ensure that we will be able to continue to
live this lifestyle, no matter how violent, unbalanced, disturbed and dangerous it is. This is the world
I know, this world I understand. When I was a teen, I tried to live a normal life- whatever the fuck
normal means. It didn’t last long; the odds were fucking against me from the start.
 I grab onto the edge of the counter, lowering my head, as I feel the dope starting to take hold. I can
hear my phone going off in my room and by the ringtone I know that it’s Sarah, she must need her next
fix of my dick, which honestly is fine by me. It’s been a few weeks since the last time we fucked. And
right now, a good fucking is exactly what I need to get the fucked-up nightmare out of my head.
The need to escape myself continues to increase, just like the amount of dope and booze I need to
use and drink to stay stable, if you want to fucking call it that. My tolerance is growing with fucking
everything I do, even with my need to fuck. Another dangerous game I’m playing, but I do it willingly
and without hesitation.
Even though I don’t want the women to fall for me, feeling their desire, their passion, them letting
me fuck them, and them taking whatever the fuck I want to give them fills a need within myself. It’s not
the connection I need, it’s the knowing that they need me more than I need them.
I know I’m not making any fucking sense; my thoughts never make sense anymore. All I know is
that my needs are increasing, and I know for a fucking fact that I will do whatever I need to do to
fulfill my needs even if it means I am consumed by this life and consumed by my addictions more.
I will give them whatever they fucking want, they don’t need to ask me twice, they want my soul
they can fucking have it as long as I get what I want in the end. My demons inside want things, need
things, and just like I’ve done a fucking million times before, I will give into them, because feeling
nothing, feeling numb, is so much fucking better than feeling everything.
 Chapter 6
Kyson

This life is filled with chaos, pain, and loss. It’s all around us and we see it every fucking day.
Being drugs dealers, we see firsthand the pain and suffering addicts and alcoholics are going through,
so much so that they will do anything to escape.
Just like Gabe and I will do anything to fucking escape.
Our pasts are not completely the same, but we both come from broken fucked up drug dealing
families and what we were told as children is what has us chasing our tails now to fucking escape
and get away.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t like this life - most days I fucking love it. I get to get high, fuck
whoever I want, and make tons of fucking money. But at times I question how Gabe and I both got to
this place where getting high, getting drunk and fucking women has become our main coping skills to
feel better in our own skins.
Gabe doesn’t say it, but I know when we both look in the mirror that the person staring back at us
is not the person we thought we would become, but we have accepted it, and try not to let it affect us
now. You can see how well that’s fucking working.
Not very fucking well.
Normal people don’t do what we do to escape, they are able to function without the chaos, pain
and loss - we need it. Fucked up, I know, but this life is just as addicting as the actual drugs are. It’s
easy money. Easy pussy and we make our own shit, so we have an unlimited amount of dope. And it’s
easy to get the booze. This life is hard, but it’s also easier than the sober one.
I can’t tell you the last time I was sober. The first thing Gabe and I do when we wake up is use and
drink, the last thing we do before we go to bed is use and drink. And every few hours throughout the
day we use and drink. It is normal for us. We use and drink and we function just fine, you wouldn’t
even fucking know that we are high and drunk.
There is not one minute that goes by that we aren’t high or drunk, or about to be. The cycle might
be crazy, but when you do something long enough, it just becomes a part of you. This life is a part of
us. It will always be a part of us. Once you make the deal with the devil there is no going back. We
sold our souls, and for the rest of our lives, we will do as our addiction tells us without question. It’s
a part of the deal.
Some days we win the battle within ourselves and other days we are fucking broken and lost. I
don’t know what kind of day it will be. It’s 3 a.m. and I can hear Gabe moving in his bathroom, which
means he had another bad dream, just like he does most nights, just like I do most nights, which is
why I don’t get that much fucking sleep.
When I can’t sleep, I go for a drive or go for a walk in the woods. It’s colder tonight, so driving
around in my car will have to do. I step out the front door, down the five steps, and get inside my car.
I pull out of our driveway and go past the woods that Sage helped me get through. She’s been on my
mind a lot lately, but I haven't seen or heard from her since that night. I guess Gabe and I are not the
only ones that are good at disappearing.
 I make my way through this shithole town where people think they know me, but really, they don’t
know shit. They look at me, but they don’t see me, they only see what they want to see. They only
believe what they have been told, and what they have been told is only the half-truths. There are
reasons why I do what I do.
People don’t know what happened when I was a kid, or how I was raised into the person I am
now. Even my own family are ashamed of me, but not for the reasons you may think. My father wanted
me to be more than just a drug dealer, he wanted me to run the sex trafficking ring that he runs, when I
refused. He beat the fuck out of me and kicked me out.
To my family, I am a disgrace because I didn’t want to use women in the way that they wanted me
to. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to hear your father say that I’m fucked up because I don’t
want to hurt women. That’s the world I was raised in, and I wanted no fucking part of it. My past, my
father, my fucking family, they fucking created a messed-up person that needs dope, booze and sex to
feel anything. I use women, but not in the way my father wanted me to.
I wipe my sweaty hands down my thighs as the memory flashes to the night my father kicked me
out, the night my father told me he was ashamed of me, ashamed of who I had become. Most parents
want their kids to be good people, graduate school, go to college, and have a wife and kids. Fuck not
my father and family, they wanted me to take over, they wanted me to kidnap women and do horrible
fucking things to them, and they wanted me to allow others to do the same. I refuse to be that kind of
monster. My addiction has created a monster, just a different fucking kind. I’m not making any sense.
But what else is new? Welcome to my world.
I’ll continue to stay away from my family, and honestly, Gabe is the only family I need now. He has
been with me from the beginning just like I have been with him. Both of us only trust each other,
because in this life you don’t know who you can or can’t trust, and I am not risking my life trusting the
wrong fucking person.
I continue driving through the small town, looking at how dead it is. At least I’ll be able to find
some peace and quiet after I get my dope and allow it to take me away, at least for a little while. I can
hope and pray that it does what it’s promised and make me feel fucking nothing.
 Chapter 7
Gabriel

I look out on the dance floor to see Kyson dancing with yet another girl. We’re loaded as all fuck; I
can’t remember the last time either of us was fucking sober. We’re always getting high and drinking
until we end up drunk and at some fucking party. It’s the best way for us to escape.
It is hard for us to get to the point o forgetting our past, the tolerance is getting so fucking high, that
most times when we are at parties even though we are fucked up we both still feel somewhat normal,
which pisses me the fuck off. Don’t our minds know that we need this, we just need to feel nothing?
I guess our minds have other plans, being consumed with pain and guilt and shame is something we
will have to live with. Some day it might not affect us the way it does right now. But I can tell by
Kyson that tonight is not that night, we are still affected by our past, so both of us are chasing
something that we will probably not fucking get.
Fuck man.
Stupid ass drugs and booze, and fucking pussy. I will take more and more until I can’t take
anymore, and then I will still convince myself that I can take more. I am my own worst enemy. I don’t
need to listen to the outside noise when the noise in my head is louder than anything else.
We’ve just accepted that this is who we are, and we’ve learned to enjoy it. We have no intention of
quitting or giving up this life and why would we, this lifestyle makes us feel free, even if it’s
temporary, but we aren’t fucking free, not really, the drugs and alcohol own us, we don’t own it. We
do as it tells us, when it fucking tells us, and like good little bitches we listen without question,
because the need to feel nothing, nothing is better than feeling the shit we’ve been through.
The pull is strong as fuck to get loaded. We get high and drunk because being sober means that we
have to deal with the parts of ourselves that we don’t want to fucking deal with. When we’re loaded,
looking at ourselves is hard enough but being sober and looking in the mirror, we see how this life
has affected us and we tend to shatter the fucking things.
I stumble through the crowded room, through people who are just as fucked up as I am, to the back
door. I somehow make it down the three steps to the side of the house, where I lean against it and try
to catch my breath. I’ve been doing this shit almost every day for the past year, and even with my
tolerance level increasing, the drugs and alcohol are still able to put me on my fucking ass.
Shit, maybe I overdid it a little fucking bit, but they kept handing me shit and being the addict that I
am, the word ‘no’ is not in my vocabulary, the one word I fucking know is ‘yes’ and tonight is no
different. I will fucking take anything and everything handed to me without a care or question. There
are drugs I prefer over the rest, but I’m not fucking picky, if it will numb me and the demons in my
head, I’ll take it.
I don’t have fucking boundaries the more shit I take, the more pussy I get, the better I feel even if
it’s fucking short-lived. I’ve been chasing that high I got that first time a year ago and still I haven’t
been able to get my fucking hands on it, but that won’t stop me. I’ll continue to chase it until I fucking
grab it and once I get it I am never fucking letting go.
 I have never felt like I did that night on those steps. The fighting, the violence, the not good enough
feeling, all of it disappeared and for the first time in my life I actually felt at peace. The peace was
short-lived of course, the high couldn’t last forever, but it was amazing while it lasted.
“Gabe, I was looking for you,” I hear a sexy voice say.
I don’t remember her name, but I do fucking remember her voice, the way she moans my name, and
how it feels to be inside her. I have fucked so many women, I’ve lost count, and I’ve stopped trying to
keep fucking track. Knowing their names doesn’t matter, it only matters that we want each other, and
we’re searching for the same thing - fucking pleasure.
Fuck man, sex, it’s like the most dangerous drug of all, it’s like a sea of fucking chemicals going
off inside my head, but just like with the dope and the booze, the high of release doesn’t last forever,
so once again I am on the chase for it all over again. I have a long list of women I can call whenever I
need that fix, it’s worked so far, they all help me to fucking escape in a different way than just getting
loaded does.
She stops beside me and when I look at her, she starts to pull down her underwear and she steps
out of them, my mouth starts to water. The only thing that can compete with the high I get from any
substance I take is sinking my dick inside a wet pussy and finding my release. Sex is the only thing
that I may be more addicted to, because fuck man, I can’t get enough, it’s never enough.
She places her hands against my chest and pushes me against the house, I lean down and press my
lips to hers, I nip at her bottom lip, and she moans, opening up her mouth for me. I reach down and
grab her by her ass, lifting her off of the ground. She wraps her legs around my waist as I turn us
around and slam her against the house. I swallow the moan she lets out while I continue to devour her
mouth with my tongue.
I can taste the booze on her tongue. She’s grinding her bare pussy against my now-hardened dick. I
reach between us, freeing my dick from the confines of my pants, I lift her up a little to line my cock
against her wet entrance. As soon as I get lined up, I enter her in one swift thrust.
We both just need to fuck and escape within each other, it is the only thing I know how to do these
days to get fucked up, and fuck, to escape. Women know that when they come to me that all they are
going to get is fucked, no emotions, no feelings, if they want anything other than that they won’t be
fucking getting it from me. I’m not the kind of man that knows how to love gently, I don’t know how to
love at all actually, at least not in the way I should. I am fucking possessive, dominate, and I will do
whatever I have to do to get what I want, and I don’t care about the consequences.
I begin to pick up my pace, feeling her pussy wrap tighter around my dick making me groan. My
pulse is racing as I allow myself to feel this woman against me, needing her to feel my pain, my
suffering, needing her to make me feel anything other than what I fucking feel right now. This
overwhelming feeling of being undeserving and unlovable. I can hear my father’s voice rattling
through my head as I continue to fuck this woman.
The voice that will continue to push me over the edge, the voice motivates me to continue to get
lost in the dope, booze and pussy. One day his voice will disappear from my head and until then I will
continue to try and make it disappear my own fucking way.
Another random document with
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The box of
whistles
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The box of whistles

An illustrated book on organ cases: with notes on organs at
home and abroad

Author: John Norbury

Release date: October 13, 2023 [eBook #71862]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Bradbury, Agnew & Co, 1877

Credits: deaurider, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOX OF

WHISTLES ***
 Transcriber’s Note
Larger, higher-resolution versions of the pipe organs may
be seen by clicking (Larger) below them.
Additional notes will be found near the end of this ebook.
The Box of Whistles.
 Cooper & Hodson Lith. 132 Red Lion Sq. W.C.
(Larger)
ST. PAULS CATHEDRAL LONDON.
OLD ORGAN.
 THE

ox of histles
AN ILLUSTRATED BOOK ON ORGAN CASES:

WITH

Notes on Organs at Home and Abroad.

BY

JOHN NORBURY.

LONDON:
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., 8, 9, 10, BOUVERIE STREET, E.C.
1877.
[All Rights reserved.]
 LONDON:
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS
 PREFACE.
N publishing this work, it is not my wish or intention to
attempt to teach the Player how to use, the Maker how to
build, or the Architect how to encase, the second
instrument mentioned in the Bible, but to put before the
descendants of Jubal that which may incite them to continue to
improve the noble instrument, which the combined efforts of taste,
science, and skill, have brought to its present degree of excellence.

JOHN NORBURY.
32, Gordon Square, London,
April, 1877.
 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
PAGE
THE BOX OF WHISTLES 1

Introductory.

CHAPTER II.
THE ORGAN CASE 2
Division into Four Classes.—Subdivisions of ditto.

CHAPTER III.
WHAT A GOOD CASE SHOULD BE 4

Style not necessarily Gothic.—Renaissance Style.—Tin

Pipes now seldom used.—An Organ Case need not
correspond with the Style of Architecture of the Building.—
English Cases during the last Hundred Years.—An Organ
Case should be good.—Unequal Number of Towers.—
Ponts.—Oak and other Woods.—Culs-de-Lampe.—
Ornaments.—Arrangement of Pipes.—Arrangement of
Towers.
 CHAPTER IV.
THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE PIPES 7

Number of Pipes.—Not all of the Same Height.—Two

Tiers of Pipes.—Oval and Circular Openings.—Pipes
arranged in Perspective.—Carved Panels.—Inverted Pipes.
—Double Pipes.—Projecting Mouths.—Fancy Mouldings on
Pipes.—Pipes, gilt—diapered—painted—tin—bronzed.—
Tubes of Reed Stops projecting horizontally.—Tuba at York.

CHAPTER V.
THE CHOIR ORGAN AS A SEPARATE CASE 8

As a Screen to the Player.—Choir Front in the Lower Part

of Case.

CHAPTER VI.
THE MINOR DETAILS OF AN ORGAN 9

Room in the Loft.—Loft should not be used as a Singing

Gallery.—Reversed Key-boards.—Black Keys for Naturals,
&c.—Rows of Stops, perpendicular, horizontal.—Varied
Forms of Pedals.—Music Desk.—Lights.—Looking Glass.—
Clock.—Carving between the Pipes.—Fox-tail Stop.—
Electric and Pneumatic Actions.

NOTES ON ORGANS AT HOME AND

ABROAD.
NOTES ON ENGLISH ORGANS 10
NOTES ON FRENCH ORGANS 12

NOTES ON BELGIAN ORGANS 18

NOTES ON DUTCH ORGANS 22

NOTES ON GERMAN ORGANS 25

NOTES ON SWISS ORGANS 28

NOTES ON ITALIAN ORGANS 30

 ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGES
ST. PAUL’S, London. A fine Case by Grinling Gibbons, the
design is exceptional for one of Father Smith’s instruments
Frontispiece.

ST. LAWRENCE, Jewry, London. One of Harris’s

Organs, of nearly perfect design, according to the
old French rules. Since I sketched this Organ, it has
been rebuilt, and the Case much enlarged in the
same style 10–11

ST. MAGNUS THE MARTYR, London Bridge. A

good Case of peculiar design. This instrument is
remarkable as one of the earliest that had a Swell
Organ introduced 10–11

ST. SEPULCHRE’S, London. A fine Case in Harris’s

style 10–11

ST. WOLFRAM, Abbeville. A good specimen of a

French Renaissance Organ Case 12–17

ST. ETIENNE, Beauvais. A nice French-designed

Organ Case 12–17

THE CATHEDRAL, Rheims. A grand Organ Case in

the French style 12–17

THE CATHEDRAL, Rouen. A very large fine Organ 12–17

Case. The four similar flats in the Great Organ are a
blemish
ST. MACLOU, Rouen. A very pretty French Organ 12–17

ST. OUEN, Rouen. An elaborate Organ in the French

style 12–17

THE CATHEDRAL, Troyes. An excellent example of

a French Organ in a western gallery 12–17

THE CATHEDRAL, Antwerp. A fine elaborate Case 18–21

ST. PAUL’S, Antwerp. A fine Case, the carved work

of which is perhaps the best in Belgium 18–21

ST. BAVON, Ghent. A well designed and well carved

Case 18–21

OUDE KERK, Amsterdam. A fine Case, of a

thoroughly Dutch pattern 22–24

ST. JOHN’S, Gouda. A quaint Dutch Case 22–24

ST. BAVON, Haarlem. A very fine Case, the effect of

which is damaged by being painted 22–24

ST. JANS KERK, Hertogenbosch. Said to be one of

the finest Cases in Europe 22–24

ST. LAWRENCE, Rotterdam. A very fine Dutch

Case, in a sober style 22–24

THE CATHEDRAL, Freiburg-im-Bresgau. A good

example of a hanging Organ 25–27
INDEX TO NOTES ON ORGANS.

Abbeville—
St. Sepulchre’s, 12;
St. Wolfram, 12.
Amiens—
The Cathedral, 12;
St. ——, 12.
Amsterdam—
Nieuwe Kerk, 22;
Oude Kerk, 22.
Antwerp—
The Cathedral, 18;
English Church, 18;
St. George, 19;
St. Jacques, 19;
St. Paul (Dominicans), 19.

Bayeux—
The Cathedral, 12.
Beauvais—
The Cathedral, 13;
St. Etienne, 13.
Bellaggio—
Private Chapel of Villa Melzi, 30.
Berne—
The Cathedral, 28.
Bois-le-Duc—See Hertogenbosch.
Boulogne—
The Cathedral, 13.
 The Cathedral, 13.

Bruges—
The Cathedral, 19;
St. Anne, 20;
St. Jacques, 20;
St. Jean (Hospital), 20;
Notre Dame, 20;
Convent des Sœurs de Charité, 20.
Brussels—
Ste. Gudule, 20;
Notre Dame des Victoires, 20.

Caen—
St. Etienne, 13;
St. Jean, 13;
St. Pierre, 13;
St. Trinité, 13.
Chester—
The Cathedral, 11.
Chiavenna—
San Lorenzo, 30.
Coblentz—
St. Castor, 25.
Coire—
The Dom (St. Lucius), 28.
Cologne—
The Cathedral, 25;
Minorites, 25.
Como—
The Cathedral, 30.
Coutances—
The Cathedral, 14;
St. Nicolas, 14;
St. Pierre, 14.

Delft—
Nieuwe Kerk 22;