My bf M(24) and me F(24) have dated for almost 2 years. We’ve had a lot of up and downs and what I mean by that is I used to be an escort and a stripper. I was able to take care of myself financially that way. I’ve given all of that up we weren’t dating officially when I was doing that but we were seeing each other. I accepted to be his girlfriend once I let go of the other lifestyle. I have now moved back in with my parents and now he’s telling me he’s hurt by everything I’ve done and he feel like a fool that he’s no longer in love with me but he loves me. He doesn’t want to lose me but he can’t get over all those things. We went in a break back in January for a month. I feel like I did a lot of self work but he didn’t do any. Now that’s another issue he says he loves the person who I’ve become and now I’m the perfect girl he would’ve wanted but I just can’t seem to come to terms with it. He’s also my first real relationship. I threw him a surprise birthday party 4 days ago. We had also spoken how we shouldn’t talk about the future. Honestly I don’t know wth I’m doing. I seriously don’t why am I allowing all of this but yet I can’t walk away. Also he almost did cheat on me with escorts off of euros website. Why can’t I walk away. I know I don’t deserve this regardless of my past actions.

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

When I was three years old I was in a really bad car accident. I didn't know it at the time, but that singular event would come to define everything about my life moving forward. What I remember about the accident is mostly a collage of backdated comments I was able to reel out of my father in the following years. He was driving me and my mom in his old '91 Chevy Tahoe through the twisting backroads of Southern Illinois, weaving his way through the gnarled branches of oak trees which interlocked into a braided ceiling overhead. A fog had rolled in, giving the impression that we were driving through a cloudy tube. Everything was simultaneously bright and opaque. I didn't mind though, as I was in the back seat working on a coloring book. My mom was in the front, talking with my dad or turning around to entertain my completed pictures.
Although I was of the age where my memory was just beginning to mature, I still recall two things very clearly from the accident. First was the sensation of breaking. I remember feeling the way a plate must feel to be dropped: weightless at first, then suddenly meeting a much larger, more solid object—the air popped like a firecracker, and the entirety of my body shattered into hundreds of fractals. And then I remember a hand. It was my dad's hand pulling me from the wreck.
I ended up hospitalized for weeks after the crash. My mom was less lucky. The impact had killed her instantly.
As I've alluded to, I was young, and at the time I didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened. I knew something was missing, but it was like a word on the tip of my tongue, or the forgotten vanilla in a cherished cake recipe—coloring my experience, but not the whole of it. Not like my dad. For him, it was the whole fucking cake. He had somehow made it out with only a few scratches. I'm sure he had a really bad case of survivor's guilt, and frankly, looking back, I wouldn't have blamed him if he slumped into despair and spent his days drinking away his sorrow. But he wasn't that type of man. He got help. It took him years before he was able to recall anything that happened that morning, and most of it is still repressed, but he shared with me what he could. Or at least that's what I had thought.
My dad was a Middle School teacher since before I was born, and he kept his job until very recently. As a result, we didn't have much by way of resources. I grew up on Disney Channel and TV dinners for the most part, but I didn't mind. When I became of school age, his job actually made caring for me pretty convenient. Since our Elementary and Middle schools were connected, he was able to drive me there and back each day.
It was around third or fourth grade that I realized I was different. I didn't understand the other children or even the adults most of the time. They would say things then immediately change their mind, or they would talk about something and in the next breath forget its existence entirely. I remember one day at lunch, I had just gotten my tray of hot food and sat down with some friends. One of the kids, Alex, was talking about a stuffed bird he had won for getting first place in Mr. Curtis's pop-up math competition. We were all admiring its blue wings and white belly and sharp black beak and beady eyes. I left mid-conversation to get a chocolate milk. When I came back, I asked to see the bird again, and Alex said "what bird?" I was perplexed. "The bird—the bluejay you were just showing us." I remember all of the other kids looking at me like I was crazy. I figured they were all playing a trick on me, so I got up and went over to Alex's seat and crouched down, looking under the table, then I sprung up and tried to open his lunchbox. "What are you doing!?" he yelled. I felt so confused and embarrassed that I ran to the bathroom to cry.
And then there was another time a group of kids were laughing about a joke one of the girls, Taylor, had made about our homeroom teacher's face looking like a seal. I knew it was mean, but at the time I just wanted to fit in so I played along, but when I made a comment about her resemblance to the semi-aquatic animal, they all looked at me confused. "What are you talking about? We never said that…"
These misattributions kept happening, and it led to me being ostracized from most of the little childish cliques that popped up. I developed a quasi-standoffish temperament which I used as a shield against a chaotic world that I didn't understand. My dad eventually had me tested for ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), but I passed the test. He asked if I wanted to move to a different town with different schoolmates, thinking that perhaps I was getting bullied, but I told him it was fine. Somewhere deep down I felt like no matter where I went, this problem would follow me.
You may think that I was simply coping with the absence of my mom, and while I'm sure that her absence has left certain holes in my life, kindly, no, that wasn't what was happening. You see, at first I didn't notice the instances of what I'll call "blinking". I simply thought that I was misremembering things: objects, words, events. They were all little things anyway. A bird, a joke, my pencil box. It wasn't until sixth grade that I realized the magnitude of the phenomenon.
I was in my dad's 6th grade Social Studies class and we had just been assigned our "Ancient Civilizations" project which involved creating a diorama of our chosen civilization and presenting its features to the class. My friend at the time, Claire, had taken my first choice of Ancient Rome (which we had a heated argument about at lunch), so I was left with Ancient Egypt. At the time, all I pictured for Egypt was a plate of sand. However, my dad and I went through some illustrated history books and pictures on the internet and he really built up the project for me.
Over the course of a couple months, he helped me shape three pyramids out of small wooden planks and a bunch of tan clay. We placed them in the center of a giant square shoebox lid which served as the container for the diorama. Then he bought some small wooden mannequin puppets and we dressed them up in cloth clothes (mostly kilts and tunics) and colored their eyes, mouths, and hair. We added a few obelisks and some small box-huts which were collected into a little village around the Nile. Finally, we added a light glaze of glue where we felt would be necessary and then covered the whole project with golden glitter.
As we worked on each part of the diorama, my dad helped me understand what we were adding and why it was important to Ancient Egypt. I loved the way he talked about history. He spun everything into a miraculous story. To this day, I don't think I've ever had a teacher who came close to his level of charisma and creativity. As a result, I became really proud of my diorama. I memorized all the little details and rehearsed my speech in front of the mirror for hours leading up to the last couple weeks of class. And then, two days before I was supposed to give my presentation, everything fell apart.
First, I need to apologize for deceiving you about an aspect of my story. I thought it might help you to understand what I was going through at the time. What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane. I get that. But please hear me out. The truth is that I was never assigned to present on Ancient Egypt; everything else about Clair taking my first pick and dad helping me with the whole project and my excitement leading up to the presentation was all true, but it wasn't a project on Ancient Egypt, it was a project on Ancient Sidovan, which was a civilization located on the eighth continent called "Catalan" (the same name as the spoken language, but unrelated) which was due West of Australia in the Indian Ocean.
I know this sounds incredible, and if you want to believe it's all in my head, I get that, but I remember clearly all sorts of facts about it: the Malagasy, the same people who populated Madagascar, were the first peoples to discover Catalan and settle it. However, about five hundred years later, Indian ships would arrive and create the civilization known as Sidovan. A pidgin language formed between the indigenous population and new arriving Indians called "Hiesa" (pronounced: Hai-E-suh or Hai-ʔ-suh). Catalan had a warm climate with plenty of natural resources, but Sidovan had a dense enough population to require agricultural production. They grew rice, grain, sugarcane, vegetables, and even tobacco.
I remembered all of these facts and more. My diorama reflected the main features of the Sidovan civilization. And then two days before my presentation, I woke up and my diorama was entirely different. The hilly grasslands were traded out for sandy dunes. The Hindu statues and stone palaces became clay pyramids and large spear-like pillars. And everything was covered with the ickiest yellow glitter I had ever seen. Tears stung my eyes as I trampled over to my dad's room and banged on his door. "Dad! What did you do!?" I yelled.
"Honey?" He responded, rushing over to the base of the stairs. "What's wrong?"
"The diorama. It's ruined!"
"It's what?" he asked and ran up the stairs, leading me to my room. He looked over it for a few seconds, checking to see if everything was intact, then said, "I don't see it, honey. Where is it ruined?"
I was completely dumb-struck. What did he mean he didn't see it? "All of it!" I shouted. "The whole thing is wrong. Where's the grass and the stone buildings and the lady with the four arms and the elephants? Where is my project!?"
My dad looked at me in silence. "Lauren, baby, what civilization do you think you were working on?"
"Ancient Sidovan, of course! We've been working on this for months now! Dad, please tell me you remember."
He knelt down and put his hands on my shoulders. "Honey, your project was on Ancient Egypt. There is no Ancient Sidovan."
"Y-you're lying." I protested. "Books, you have books. On your bookshelf."
He took me into his study and showed me all of his books. None of them were on Ancient Sidovan. He even turned on his computer and typed in the name of the civilization, but all that came up was a near match "Sidon". I remember feeling the sudden urge to puke. My entire body felt like it was pumping battery acid instead of blood. "I—I don't," I started but suddenly my head felt very light, and I fainted.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital. I had lost consciousness for over half an hour, enough time for my dad to call 9-1-1 and have the ambulance transport me to the nearest ER. They ran all sorts of tests on me, but they all came back fine. After a couple hours of IV fluids and monitoring, they released me with my dad.
I ended up skipping the rest of school that week. My dad didn't make me present my diorama. In fact, he never brought the subject up again. Part of me was glad. I just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened. But another part of me couldn't move past what was clearly the most absurd thing to ever happen to me. About a week after the incident, I tried to broach the subject, but when I asked my dad about it, he didn't seem to remember our conversation at all. He said I had fallen ill and that's why I needed to go to the ER and miss class. I felt like I was going crazy. If I was older, I probably would have voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric ward. But I was young and helpless and alone, and I decided that if I just ignored the changes well enough, I could still get along. This proved difficult though, as the blinking would only exacerbate in the coming months.
Up until the time of the project, I hadn't been able to directly observe the phenomenon. It was always in retrospect that things disappeared. It was during the summer after sixth grade that this changed. I still remember the first time it happened. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying my hair in front of the mirror. After it was dried, I threw on my clothes then went to tie my hair up in a ponytail, but as I went to set the elastic tie, I felt its weight dissipate in my hand. I gasped and held my hand out. The circular black band was gone.
Fast forward to seventh grade and the blinking had spiraled out of control. Reflecting back on it, most people would probably have assumed I was drinking psilocybin-infused water, as the delusions were somewhat consistent with psychedelic phenomena: except these distortions were real (at least they felt that way to me).
I'd wake up and grab the box of Special K but end up eating Cheerios. The McDonalds logo would look yellow and red one day, but purple and black the next. I'd be watching a show, and then a different show, and then a different one. It was as if the entire universe was a Christmas tree with millions of lights, and the lights kept shifting hues randomly, faster and faster, and I was the only one who could see their changing colors. I remember one night my dad made spaghetti for dinner and we went out onto the porch to eat it. While we were sitting, I saw our neighbor's house, a two story townhome, blink and become a single story bungalow. I gasped, and my dad asked what was wrong, but when I tried to explain he just gave me a strange look. For him, no matter what changed, the world was "always that way". While for me, it didn't have "a way".
The situation peaked when Clair, that friend I mentioned before, disappeared. I texted her (my dad had bought me a BlackBerry at the beginning of summer break) but didn't get a response. When I asked her other friends if they knew where she was, I got the usual "what are you talking about?" look. I knew right away what had happened, even though I didn't want to believe it. I went to the teacher and asked if there was a Clair in our class. She said "no". I broke down in front of everyone. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran out of school. The lady at the front desk tried to stop me, but I just barrelled past her. I kept running until I got to a big park across the street and bawled my eyes out until the police arrived and escorted me home. When they tried asking me what was wrong, I didn't say anything. There was literally nothing I could say that they would understand.
That night I prayed to God for the first time. My dad wasn't a religious man. He went to Catholic church with my mom when she was alive, but after she died he never went back. Still, I knew how to pray, even if I never did it. I copied some of the people I saw praying in movies and interlocked my fingers and knelt down on my bed, stuffing my head into a pillow. "Dear God," I said, "Please, please, please help me." I told Him about my struggles and asked Him to make them stop. I spent an hour saying the same things over and over again. And when I was finished, my little body was so tired, I fell right to sleep.
I knew something was different the second I opened my eyelids. I didn't only feel relieved, but I felt… embraced. I felt like someone was watching over me. I felt like I wasn't alone. I moved through my day with cautious apprehension. I didn't want to get my hopes up only to be let down. But to my surprise, the blinking had stopped. At least I couldn't remember any of the inconsistencies, and to me, that was a win. I began to pray regularly, and the more I did, the more I could feel the sense that someone was looking out for me. It was like I was getting a big hug from some cosmic force that loved me and wanted me to be happy.
I made it a habit to pray regularly. I asked my dad if he could take me to a church, and he agreed to take me to St. Mark's, the same church that he and my mom used to attend. Over time, I realized that the actual church services weren't as important to me as the praying. For whatever reason, there was something about praying that was like a glue for my brain, holding the entire universe together. As I got older, I considered that maybe it wasn't that the changes were no longer happening, but that I simply didn't see them anymore. In other words, maybe I was just becoming like everyone else. Either way, I didn't mind.
In my teenage years, I got into mindfulness meditation. I thought that I'd want to go into religious studies and become a theologian, so I started to learn about Eastern traditions in addition to Christianity. I joined a bunch of different school clubs to meet kids of different faiths: Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam. I tried to find a common thread which linked them all and would explain what happened to me as a child. The metaphors of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, the Taoist Yin and Yang—duality. Every religion seemed to speak about a way of being that would lead to a better place. In some cases that better place was a physical future existence, and in others it was merely being in contact with the perfection of nature or the present. Metaphorically, the teachings could explain what I had gone through in a kind of loose way, but there were no explicit statements about my condition.
***
I want to fast forward to why I've decided to write about this now. To give you an idea of where I'm at, I'm now 25 and working on finishing my MA in Computational Linguistics. I know that's a bit of a switch from what I was thinking when I was a teenager, but I really only interested in religion because of the value praying afforded me as a child. I didn't actually have much interest in the subject, itself. After my first year of college, I changed to an English major, which ultimately led to me taking a linguistics class and enjoying it so much that I switched tracks in my Junior year. Considering the state of the world, I thought minoring in Computer Science might help me financially in the future, so I ended up charting a path which I figured might lead to something like developing translation software.
Anyway, everything was going fine until a few weeks ago. I was out at an all-night diner with a few of my friends from the program. There was Jeremy, Martin, Bella, Jordan, and Macy. We had been working on a group project together involving modeling construction grammars by generating primitive 3D structures using C# and running the code through a game engine (it's a bit weird, but essentially we were trying to create a multidimensional model for language using a similar but more advanced concept than other LLMs), and just had a breakthrough. It was 2AM though and not a brain cell existed between the six of us, so instead we focused on a different problem: Macy's ongoing breakup with her semi-long distance trucker boyfriend. We tried to explain why Mike wasn't going to work out as we ordered a round of milkshakes and waited for the lone overnight kitchen worker to scoop out three balls of ice cream from the Deans carton for each of us, blend it, then have the server deliver the vintage diner glasses on a plastic tray.
I dug into my thick strawberry shake with a spoon. It was delicious. I kept eating but focused back on the conversation. I remember feeling something odd about one of the scoops, but I was so entrenched in Macy's story that I didn't notice the metal shard in my ice cream until I felt it against my lip. "P-tuh" I spat out the shard and ice cream all in one motion, then covered my mouth which I was sure was bleeding. The silver blade was probably as large as my thumb, and it had two jagged edges, as if it was fastened for the purpose of causing damage. "What the fuck!" I yelled.
Everyone at the table turned to see what was the matter. "Hey, Lauren, you okay?"
I spoke through a covered mouth, using my free hand to point at the table. "That was in my—"
But it was gone.
"In your… shake? Was something in your shake?" asked Jeremy.
I froze. In that moment, the stories of my childhood that I had only remembered as faint nightmares came back in a wave of crushing terror. How could I have been so stupid to think they would simply vanish forever? No, this isn't the same thing, I thought. But deep down, I knew it was. I drew my hand away from my lips and saw that it was dry—no blood. When I looked back up, all of the blood in my veins went cold. My friends were… smiling at me. Their lips were elastic like taffy, stretching to reveal their teeth. I could feel them radiating malevolence, as if the only thing holding them back from picking up their utensils and stabbing me to death was some thinly veiled force field. The moment lasted for what felt like half a minute, then Jordan said two words which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Found you"
The words ricocheted in my now adrenaline powered skull. But just as he spoke them, the world blinked and my friends were back. Bella reached out and grabbed my hand. I pulled away, but when I saw her concerned expression, I relented.
"Sorry, guys, I think I'm going to have to call it." I said.
"You sure, L?" asked Jordan. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, thanks, but I just…" I stumbled for a lie, but when one wouldn't come, Martin stood up and said he'd walk me out to my car.
"Thanks," I said as I got into my little 2015 Jetta. "It's just been a long day."
"No problem, Lauren. You know, if there's ever anything—"
"I know," I said but didn't mean. Some things just couldn't be shared.
I drove for about five minutes before stopping at a gas station. I pulled in and parked near the back. Then I interlocked my fingers and prayed for half an hour. I apologized for not taking my praying seriously and asked to once again be granted peace. Unlike my younger years, I also drifted into other avenues of thought. I imagined my mom. I pictured the whole arc of my life, all of the little decisions that led me to where I was. I cried for a long time. I felt like that little girl again reaching out for help. I still felt so lost, so out of control; there were so many things missing, and I was so confused.
I decided then to take a trip back home and visit my dad who was now working as a private tutor. He made enough prepping affluent students for the ACT and SAT that he could spend his free time pursuing his real passions: reading and writing. When I arrived at his doorstep that weekend, he greeted me with open arms. "How are you, kiddo? It's been, what? A year or so?"
It was actually more like two years, but I didn't tell him. I just smiled and nodded.
"Well, come in."
The house was almost exactly how I remembered it. Linoleum floors, beige walls, a few scattered pictures, the scent of camomile. Everything minimalist. There was a quaintness, a prettiness to the way everything seemed to be well kept and in a perfect place. From the cherry wood chairs we'd sit in to eat, to the cream-colored loveseat. I felt at home.
I spent the drive thinking of what I would talk to my dad about, but ultimately I wasn't sure what I'd say. I loved my dad, but I think growing up it was easy to see him as naive. After all, arguably the most important episodes of my childhood were completely unknown to him. In that way, I kind of loved him from a distance. Maybe losing my mom also played into that. Maybe I just had trust issues. And after what happened at the diner… Luckily there hadn't been any blinks since.
I stayed for a couple days and he showed me around some of the different coffee shops where he'd tutor kids or write some of his stories. I met some of his friends, mostly other retired or part-time teachers who were in a similar place in life. I was happy for him. Then, on Sunday, he made me my favorite meal growing up: homemade carbonara pasta with chicken and broccoli. The sauce had a few different cheeses, butter, olive oil, and a raw egg yolk. It was the perfect blend of creamy, savory, and sweet. After we ate, he cracked open a scrapbook of some old photos and other clippings he had put together.
We reminisced about the past and laughed whenever I'd cover up one of my awkward pictures. He brought up some stories from school that I had forgotten, naming some teachers that I hadn't thought about in years. Apparently I had started at the end, because as I moved to the other end of the book, I kept getting younger and younger. I flipped to the last pages and noticed a couple pictures of my mom that made my heart sink.
"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" said my dad.
"Mmm," I agreed.
I flipped to the last page and saw a collage of newspaper clippings. One of them was related to the accident. It was headlined: "Two Survive Head-On Collision". After a cursory glance at the text, I noticed something odd. It said, "Both the husband and child, a three year old girl, sustained life-threatening wounds. The husband was found unconscious on the scene. The girl was found twenty meters away from the vehicle, crying." I swallowed, trying to remember back to what happened that day. The feeling of crashing, of the world slowing down, then breaking, returned. And then there was a hand. My dad's hand. Or was it? If he was unconscious, who pulled me out of that wreck?
I looked up at my dad. He was smiling.
I shot up and started backing up slowly toward the door. "No, not you, too. What is this? What's happening? Who are you?"
My dad, or whatever was controlling him, laughed."Oh, Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. You know who we are." he purred as he stood up. He lifted his hands and the lights began to flicker then bend in a way which shouldn't have been possible. Dark figures began to propagate from the shadows along the walls. The pictures nailed there began to blink out of existence. I turned to run toward the door but the handle was gone. Glass shards materialized all around me and swarmed like locusts. Certain I was going to die, I dropped down on my knees and once again turned to prayer, this time asking God to directly intervene and save me.
Everything went quiet.
"Honey? Are you okay?"
I didn't trust his voice. I knew if I opened my eyes, I'd see that awful smile. He was just toying with me. "It's not you," I said in between muttered prayers. "I know it's not you."
"Honey," my dad said, closer. I felt his arms wrap around me. This was it, I was going to be suffocated. I waited for the inevitable crushing weight of my chest collapsing. I waited to break all over again.
"I would never hurt you, Lauren. I love you more than anything in the whole world."
I burst out in tears. "No, it's not you, I know it's not you. You don't exist!"
My dad's weight dissipated. I opened my eyes and saw that he was no longer there. "Dad?" I called aloud. "Dad? Where did you go?"
I checked all over the house, but there was no trace of him. There were still pictures of him all over the house, so I knew he hadn't blinked out of existence like everything else, but somehow he was missing.
***
I left the house and got a room at a hotel, where I am now. I'm sure at this point that whatever is happening to me is no longer random. Something out there is actively trying to hunt me. Maybe it has been my whole life, but only now it can see me—however weird that sounds. If that's right, then God has been on my side trying to protect me from this demon or monster or devil or whatever it is. Regardless, the methods I was using when I was younger are not going to cut it anymore. I already posted my story in several other small circles and have gotten one reply. A man who goes by the name "Trent" (apparently it's an alias). He said that he has some insight into my "condition" and can offer help if I want it. I'm planning on meeting with him tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but at this point I need answers. I can keep you updated with my progress if that interests you, and to anyone who knows anything about what's happening to me, please… I could really use your help.
***
I was just about to post this when Trent sent another message. This is what it says:
Trent: We can do the \*** at **** O'clock. Also, if what you're telling me is true, your mother may still be alive.*

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UPDATE: I've finished the documentary. It's offensive. No real sympathy for the betrayed spouses whose lives were ruined. Far too much sympathy for the cheating men on the site (because the women were almost all bot accounts.) And way too much focus on the money-hungry "Christian" vlogger couple who are doing so much damage by advertising (because of course they wrote a book) that you have to forgive a cheating spouse because that's what god wants. Respectfully, fuck you.
I'm going to preface this by saying that my now ex-husband was not only a violent, abusive narcissist but also a serial cheater so when AM was hacked I immediately searched the data and was not surprised to find him listed. So, I understand that people are going to cheat regardless but jesus christ that doesn't mean you have to HELP THEM DO IT. Noel Biderman might be one of the most revolting people I've ever heard speak. EDIT: I wrote that last line before I knew he was also a serial cheater who asked escort agencies to send him barely legal teen girls and he'd "choose" one. I mean, I'm not surprised at all, but GROSS.
Here's why I'm making this post though - some of these people being interviewed are actively gaslighting us as the audience. Saying "Ashley Madison taught me that the cheater is not the only one to blame."
Yes, they are. YES, THEY ARE. I have no issue with open/poly relationships that are built on communication, honesty and consent - that's not cheating... but when your partner who has sworn to be faithful to you lies to you, goes behind your back and has an affair (emotional or physical) with another person that is your cheating partner's fault and ONLY their fault. Saying otherwise is so damaging for people who have been hurt in this way, especially if we've also been victims of narcissistic abuse.
I'm still in episode one, so maybe the doc will address this - but so far, the irresponsibility of letting that statement go unanswered needed a response.

OK, so...I was in the mood for some company last Friday night, decided to call an escort, got in touch with one, then pulled the plug because she started putting off a heavy scam vibe. No money or deposit sent, and I thought that would be that. Am I a reckless, horned-up idiot? Yes. But I'm not a total idiot. The next day, I got a super angry text (from a Nigerian number) saying I wasted his girl's time and I owe him $1200. Of course, I blocked and deleted. The next day I got an even crazier text demanding that I pay, along with an extremely explicit death threat against me andmy family, along with a photo of two beheaded human heads. Super disturbing and now - pissed at behavior, deleted and blocked the scammer again.
And today (three days later) I get this: "Greetings I’m writing to you to tell you that yesterday you were talking to my girl and I lost a lot of money for your game I’m Tony Gonzales boss and proletarian of the dating house which you wanted to be with one of my girls and you only played I have your information and everything about your family we’re going to solve this in a good way that’s why I communicate with you you owe me 2500 you can pay everything or something until I finish the payment you decide how we do it on the phone or in person"
(The use of the word "proletarian" was pretty amusing, actually.)
They called my cel at the same time they texted this, and then listed my name and address. So naturally, I will keep deleting and blocking until they hopefully go away, but shit I'm not gonna lie this has been a little rattling. Again, I know I was impulsive and reckless, so I consider it a lesson I definitely needed to be taught.

This story is also being posted on royal road, my username over there is cosmicslime. You can find the rest here: ROYAL ROAD
If you do end up reading this story, then I'd appreciate a follow over on Royal Road. I'd also like to hear your thoughts on it up to chapter twelve. You can share them in the form of a review, mentioning what you did and didn't like about the story, I'll try to get through as many of them as possible.

Chapter Two - Beginning Of Ruin - Part Two

Slowly coming to a halting stop, the wooden boat previously acting as my mode of transport came to a complete rest against the river's gentle current, precisely lining up with the river dock now on my right.
Stepping out of the drifting craft, my feet made contact with the solid ground once more. For some reason the ground below me felt somewhat ethereal after travelling that short distance by water. Laid out in front of me was a paved path that perfectly divided the rows of red spider lilies on either side.
Strewing the familiar weapon across my shoulders, I flicked the timeless hood over my head before traversing the vacant road with no particular destination in mind, as I walked by, the spider lilies blowing in the wind would halt their swaying motions in an unnatural display of primal fear.
No matter how much I tried to tone it down, it seems the ominous pressure being emitted by this body couldn’t help but inspire fear in the hearts of living creatures. Even here in this Celestial realm, it was still the domain of the living so my presence here was hardly ever warranted, nor welcomed for that matter. It wasn’t hard for me to see the effect my presence had on a given setting, it would always elicit a combination of three reactions from those around me.
It was either fear, hatred or anxiety.
That was the case for all but one....just a single girl didn’t seem to mind me being near her at all.
Just as I was about to rescind myself to the inevitable fate that came along with this existence, I saw something or rather, someone approaching in the distance.
It was another young female wearing glasses and speeding towards me as fast as her nimble legs could carry her. She was holding something like a scroll in her right hand and given how awkward her tumbling strides were, it was clear that athletics weren’t her forte.
As soon as she’d gotten within range, her eyes sparked with a sudden realization, and she abruptly placed her right leg in front of her to slow her awkward sprint. Kicking up a fit of dust in the process, the green haired girl stopped just a few footsteps away from me before immediately bowing in a trembling motion.
“G-G-good evening, Sir Shinigami....or would you prefer Sir Reaper instead?” That timid question trailed behind her upturned eyes.
“It doesn’t matter. What is it Minerva? I doubt you sprinted all the way here just to give me such an awkward greeting.”
“Eh....you-you know my name?”
“Naturally.”
I saw her face lose a bit of its color after I spoke those words, but she soon collected herself before correcting her posture.
“Ah! I wanted to ask you about something. You see I’m in charge of managing the souls that get sent to reincarnate from both the overworld and Eden, but something odd has come up.”
“Something odd you say?”
“Yes, I was going through the archives just now and from what I’m seeing, none of the celestial souls that were sent to reincarnate have entered the cycle. Our souls usually tend to take a little longer to recycle but this is just an anomaly, for the past four hundred years very few of the celestial souls have managed to successfully reincarnate. That’s why I was rushing over here, I wanted to see if you could somehow properly escort Luelle instead of just letting things happen the usual way.”
“I saw her off just as she’d requested, she didn’t want me to personally send off her soul for some reason.”
Minerva’s neon eyes drooped a little lower just then, it almost seemed as if she was staring at the scroll now in her hands but after a few seconds it quickly became clear that it wasn’t the case at all.
“I see...so she’s really gone then.”
“Yeah.”
The distant silence that fell over us seemed to drown out even the humming winds now passing through the field of lilies.
“That scroll...doesn’t it automatically record everyone who enters the source?”
“Yes, I was just about to check it myself.”
She unraveled the thick parchment like material, scanning the myriad of letters that were appearing on its surface.
Her eyes widened in anticipation and after a while, a careless stream of words escaped her mouth. “It’s.....not....here.”
That was the beginning of it.
“Not there? You mean her soul....hasn’t returned to the source?”
The edges of the well-aged scroll crumpled under the force now being exerted by her slender fingers.
“Usually if I want to search for a particular soul, I just need to concentrate on the name of the person I'm trying to find. Even a vague image would usually be enough but....no matter how hard I focus, nothing comes up when I skim through the archive for Luelle’s name.”
This was a problem. All souls were originally supposed to return to the source, a realm even beyond reach of the Celestials for reincarnation, but for some reason that just wasn’t happening this time.
Souls did occasionally lose their way along that journey and eventually become evil spirits, but that kind of thing only happened by coincidence, the mere prospect of it ever occurring for a Celestial spirit like Luelle was simply absurd.
“Well, this is a problem. I’m certain I witnessed Luelle’s soul drifting off just now, but I’ll have to look into this. For now, you shoul-”
Before I could even finish speaking, a strange mechanism appeared in the skies above us.
It was a large white crack, the kind of thing you’d almost exclusively see on a mirror. The sprawling white lines spread across the sky, leaving an ominous screeching sound behind every time they expanded their jagged paths. Each fissure seemed to tear through the fabric of the heavens, revealing glimpses of an otherworldly darkness beyond. As the cracks widened, a sense of foreboding filled the air, suffusing the atmosphere with an eerie tension that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of existence.
“What....is that?” Minera barely managed to mutter those words in astonishment.
Soon after, a litany of white cryptic markings began escaping from the jagged openings, spreading across everything from the skies above to even the waves washing below. The strange symbols glowed with a demeaning white light, emanating a strange kind of energy each time it cast its ethereal glow.
“U-Uhm....Shinigami...do you know what this is?” Minerva asked from beside me, timidly surveying our unusual surroundings.
“No....but you should head back just to be-”
Cutting me off once again, the strange markings etched on to the world itself began emitting bright white sparks like a timid, yet persistent firework display. The sparking lights grew fiercer and fiercer by the second, and before I could even execute my next move, the entire world was seemingly engulfed in a blinding cascade of light. It was as if the very essence of existence had been ignited, and we were just insignificant specks adrift in the vast expanse of creation.
Before my vision was completely overpowered by the tormenting flash, I saw Minerva extend a hand towards me with tears flowing from her eyes. I wasn’t able to hear the words that escaped her, but for a second it looked like she was calling out to me.
Apparently, even Celestials found solace in my presence at the end.
The world was divided into three realms. The first of these was the lower realm that the humans inhabited, we called it ‘Terrania’. It was a land festering with humans, a world where only they were able to dominate and reign supreme - Or at least that’s what they thought anyway.
In reality, that realm had only managed to continue functioning because of the efforts of the beings known as ‘Celestials’. These Celestials resided in a realm that was far above Terrania known as ‘Eden’. They were responsible for overseeing the various aspects of the world these humans inhabited and that just meant that they were in charge of maintaining its balance. If things ever started getting out of hand, then they would intervene to re-establish that balance, but that would only happen if it was absolutely necessary. Though they could influence aspects of the world itself, the Celestials weren’t gods but rather akin to something like a superior version of humanity, the humans of the lower realm often referred to them as ‘angels’.
The only thing in the entire world that came close to mirroring anything even close to that level was the entity known as ‘Akasha’ or the ‘Source.’ It wasn’t an actual person but rather, the mechanism in place that managed the influx of both mortal and Celestial souls accordingly, managing them in a timely manner and allowing them to reincarnate given time.
It resided in an exclusive realm that surpassed both Eden and Terrania. Akasha was the recycling mechanism put in place to cleanse and return souls to the mortal cycle. Every time a human died, their souls would naturally return to Akasha over a number of years given that they hadn’t become an evil spirit or deviated from the natural order in some other way. That’s why even as a Reaper, I didn’t actually need to guide the souls of every single mortal that had perished, but rather just the ones still clinging on to the mortal realm or those that had deviated from the natural order.
Seeing as only pure souls could pass between the realms without restrictions, very few Celestials had ever gone directly to Akasha, but just about anyone who wasn’t mortal could detect its overwhelming essence radiating from some far-off place. The same went for me and I was neither mortal nor a Celestial.
That was how it had been, the way in which the world managed to maintain some amount of balance even without outside intervention, but the moment I saw those strange cracks appear in the sky I could already tell that the fragile balance keeping this world afloat was beginning to crumble.

Original post

The 4-year-old girl bitten in the face and arm by an american staff was released from hospital on Sunday. Her mother and the firefighter who rescued her testify.

In her Croix-Racine apartment in Isbergues, four-year-old Kenza is having fun and teasing her mom. A smile that is a pleasure to see, so terrifying was the attack she suffered last Thursday.
The weather was fine that day, and so the family, who had just moved to Isbergues from Lillers, decided to get some fresh air in the park. It was late afternoon. "When we got home, Kenza asked for an ice cream. She bought two, one for her and one for me. The two of us are very close," recalls her mother, still traumatized by the tragedy.
In front of the building, the little girl and her mother came across a neighbor, accompanied by his dog. "Kenza wanted to pet him. She loves animals. I asked the owner if it was possible. He said yes, but that we had to go slow, because the dog was sometimes a bit rough..."
And then, in a split second, the animal attacked the little girl. "It savagely bit her arm, her face... There was blood everywhere... I saw death before my eyes."
In shock, the mother placed her hand against the little girl's torn cheek. "People were watching from their balconies, but I was all alone! I kicked, opened the dog's mouth to save my daughter."
Fortunately, not far away, a neighbor who is a firefighter at the Isbergues industrial platform heard the desperate call for help.
Lionel explains: "At first I heard shouting, so I thought it was a neighborly quarrel. Then I heard the mother screaming that it was going to kill her... So I ran."
When he arrives, the owner has already locked up the American staff-type dog.
In front of the building, the mother tries as best she can to help the little girl. Lionel, who knows all about first aid thanks to his profession, takes over. "The mother was in shock and needed help too. My wife took care of her, and I took care of the little girl. I sat her down on an embankment and pressed her cheek, which was in tatters, hoping her eye wouldn't be damaged. She was so brave!"
He explains that, despite the seriousness of her injuries, Kenza remained calm: "She didn't scream, she didn't fight when we helped her. Really, at that age, it's admirable!"
The Smur and the gendarmerie quickly arrived on the scene. "They hesitated between two solutions: heliporting her, or having the firefighters' ambulance escorted by Gendarmerie motorcyclists. The fear was that there would be a lot of people on the road, as it was a public holiday...".
In the end, the second option was chosen. Kenza was taken to Lille, where she was immediately cared for. Her mom explains: "She had a scan, then was taken to the operating room, for her face and also her arm. She was really well looked after."
Kenza's mother is now awaiting a response from the courts. "I'm going to fight for my daughter. I won't give up."
According to the neighbors, the dog had already bitten before. He was taken to a kennel in Haverskerque.
Today, the little girl is doing better. She is very much in the care of her family, who thank the neighbor: "Without him, I don't know how it would have ended...".
Kenza, who has just moved to Isbergues, was due to start school in the next few days at the local school. "But we're going to wait... She needs to be reassured and pampered," explains her mother.
She will have to undergo another surgery this Wednesday to remove the stitches. "She's still on antibiotics, and she has to wear a hat to protect herself from the sun." Her face still bears impressive scars from the bite. "Later on, there will be reconstructive surgery. She's very shaken, she tells me she's no longer beautiful... But despite everything, Kenza is a pretty princess." And a brave warrior.
Source: https://www.nordlittoral.f209719/article/2024-05-14/la-maman-de-la-petite-kenza-attaquee-par-un-chien-isbergues-raconte-le-drame

Hey everyone, this is my first attempt at putting this story, or any story, to words. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!
When I entered the hotel where my wife was last seen, nothing seemed out of place at first. Children ran through the lobby, bellboys escorted new arrivals while pushing luggage trolleys, and a small line was gathered at the front desk. It seemed like any busy hotel would over summer vacation - full of life and warm, humid air from the continuously opening front doors. The hotel, named ‘The Oxman,’ was located near the southwestern national parks of the United States. School had ended and families now flocked here for reservations booked months in advance. There were also many young people in search of adventure in the desert.
My wife had been one such adventurer. We were part of a rock climbing club that planned a trip to the area to explore some popular climbs in the canyons. I had been unable to join due to work, so she joined in the group’s rental van while I stayed behind. I was going to join once the work week was over, otherwise she would have bunked with one of the single girls. Only she never met the group in the lobby the next morning and after the police came, the rest of the trip was called off.
That was three days ago. The police searched her room and found all of her belongings gone. The investigation has continued, but the hotel hasn’t provided any further information, and with a packed suitcase gone with her the police thought she had chosen to disappear. So I came here myself, knowing I wouldn’t find anything the police had missed, but not knowing what else to do.
It was strange to see the normalcy around me in the lobby. My life was shattered by events that happened here just this week, and yet everyone else continued with their own lives. But as I joined the line at the front desk, I started noticing small ways in which things weren’t right. At first I noticed that as I passed people, no one so much as glanced at me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to outright stare, but not a single person looked in my direction as I passed them. Then I noticed the way they all smiled, their faces strained in looks of delight. Even those just sitting alone in the plush lobby chairs grinned relentlessly. I started to make my way towards an elderly man just sitting there and smiling, to ask him anything that would get him to interact with me, when the concierge behind the desk called to me. I had already made it to the front of the line.
“Good morning, sir, and welcome to the Oxman. How can I help you?”
The young man smiled as did everyone else, but at least he looked at me. His eyes told a different story than the others’.
“Hi, I’d like a room just for the night.”
“Of course sir, just a single bed?” He started typing quickly on the computer in front of him.
“I’m surprised you have availability during such a busy time of year,” I said, “My friends stayed here recently and booked their rooms months in advance.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “We had a cancellation this morning! It’s your lucky day, sir.” He looked up from his computer. “Surely you didn’t come here not expecting to get a room?” He was right - the question made me look like the strange one. “I started to lose hope when I saw how busy the lobby was.” But as I turned to gesture towards the people around us, I suddenly realized they were all gone. It was a moment before the shock wore off and I gathered myself, in which time the concierge spoke again.
“Traffic ebbs and flows!” He proclaimed cheerily. “Once I see your license and put a card on file, I’ll be happy to take you to your room sir.”Goosebumps pricked my skin as uneasiness washed over me. Something was clearly off about this place. But I couldn’t turn back now. I didn’t know where else to look for her and felt the need to see this through. I passed him my information and received a traditional key on a ring.
“I see you didn’t bring any luggage. I trust you can escort yourself to your room, Mr. Flinton?”My eyes were back on the lobby as he spoke, searching for any sign of the life that was just here. “That’s fine. Thank you for your help.” I took my key and read the tag. Room 716. I made my way towards the elevator as the concierge called after me.
“Thank you for your business, Mr. Flinton! We hope you enjoy your stay at The Oxman!”I didn’t turn back as I pressed the elevator button. Hopefully my room wouldn’t be this unsettling. And hopefully, through some miracle, I would find a sign of my wife. As I turned and pressed the button for floor 7, the second highest floor, I looked into the lobby one more time while the doors closed. Now the concierge had vanished as well.

Beseiged by nasty rumours and a whisper campaign, Priyanka Chopra has decided to immerse herself in work and focus on her forthcoming music album. But while the 29-year-old Pee Cee has opted for a dignified silence in the face of nasty media whispers, friends of the actress claim that her calm faade is just that.
Juggling work, her father's illness, and these rumours have taken a toll on the star. In particular she is upset and flummoxed by the campaign unleashed by a powerful producer-director who can make and break careers in Bollywood. "At a recent party while he was feeding her cupcakes, she heard rumours of him bitching her out-all this is very hurtful," said a close associate of the actress who did not want to be identified. The associate-cum-friend believes that a powerful clique of star wives is behind this spate of anti-Priyanka stories. "Priyanka has done nothing wrong. If these women are insecure about their relationships with their husbands, they should sort it out with them, at home. Why should they attack her?" thunders the friend.
The actress, who along with Vidya Balan has often been seen as Bollywood's go-to girl for meaty writer-backed roles, has confided to her friends that whatever is happening to her could be a function of the way the male-dominated industry operates. But she refuses to let it affect her work. "The only way she can strike back is by doing more work, good work. And it is not just films. There is music, endorsements… she is a brand, a multi-faceted personality and there is no way any star-wife can take that away from her." Says the friend emphatically, adding, "To all those who are calling her names, we would like to ask them, what are your achievements? You will only be remembered as Mrs so and so…!"
As for the stars that have allegedly refused to work with the actress, another friend counters by pointing out that she has always maintained a healthy professional relationship with her stars. "Truth is, she has not signed any new films for this year, as she is busy till October. There are several big-ticket projects she has been approached for. But since she has a policy of not announcing any project before it is ready to go on the floors, people will have to wait until August for news on that front."
When Mumbai Mirror called for her version of the events, Priyanka said she would only talk about her work and the music album. "Whatever has happened is in the past," is all she would say.
However, her protective friends were more forthcoming. "Ever since she was nine years old Priyanka has been in awe of Shah Rukh Khan. But now she is scared to even utter his name in public, no matter how innocent or professional the context." Responding to rumours that the two will not be seen together because of various pressures, the friend says, "Priyanka and SRK shot together for Farhan Akhtar's adult literacy mission film recently. There is nothing on the anvil right now for them to share a platform in public." But sources close to the actress say they continue to remain friendly.
The actress, who is flying out of the country to finish work on her music album, has a lot going on in her life right now. For the last six months her father has not been keeping well. According to her concerned friends, it is not easy for her parents to read the vicious reports about their daughter every day.
"She is a feisty fighter, a hardworking girl and will not tolerate any attempts to discredit her
professionally," says the friend, before joining the actress on the sets of Krrish, where she is shooting till the wee hours of the morning
Poor Little Rich Gauri
Is she on the verge of a nervous breakdown or is she just a bratty star wife?
From being fiercely private to being Bollywood's biggest party animal – Gauri Khan's recent uncharacteristic and irregular behavior has left her husband and friends shocked. So, what's really going on with the gorgeous Mrs Khan?
Kicked out of London hotspot
Gauri Khan and friends were kicked out of famed London club Tramp, leaving lines of illegal substances and broken bottles of Champagne in their trail. Known for its infamous celebrity guests, the club is no stranger to nefarious activities, so the party of 10 must have been doing something seriously bad to have to be escorted out of the premises!
Partied till 7am at IPL without SRK
Despite her husband leaving South Africa mid IPL, Gauri decided to stay back and party till 7am every night with her four girlfriends. Fellow party animals were shocked to see that the usually reserved Gauri was letting her hair down on the dance floor, somthing no one had seen her do before. Masala! heard someone quipping, 'We want what she's on!'
Keeping bad company
From safe (and boring) K-Jo to wild (and bored) star wives, Bhavna Pandey and Maheep Khan and hot (and spoilt) south Mumbai IT girls Renu Chainani and Nandita Mahtani – Gauri has changed her company drastically in the past few years. SRK expressed how he did not approve of their group activities and was heard telling Gauri to 'grow up and accept the responsibilities that fame comes along with'. His harsh lecture, however, fell on deaf ears as she made plans to go to with the same friends to Europe, Miami and then LA soon after! When confronted about her irresponsible behavior and the fact that SRK was sitting at home playing video games with the kids, while Gauri was out partying and neglecting the kids, the latter lashed out at SRK telling him that he had no right to control her life and abused him. So angry was the actor that he finally threatened to leave for Mumbai with the kids if she didn't get her act together!
Fed up of being the perfect mrs Khan
For years now Gauri has played the role of the perfect star wife – dressing and acting the part, being seen with the right people (only those who SRK approved of!) and building an image that she exploited and enjoyed at the time. She confided in a friend saying: 'I am tired of living for the world of fans, I want to live for myself. Why can't I?'
Breaking free or breaking down?
While many of Gauri's friends believe that she's just living life for herself, other's are convinced that she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown!
Masala! verdict
Tired and fed up of playing the perfect celeb spouce, the allegedly bratty Gauri is trying to break free. A friend of the couple told Masala! "Gauri now wants to live life for herself. What's wrong with living in the fast lane?" Nothing, we guess, as long as she's got her seatbelt on and her hands firmly on the wheel!

Chapter 1
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Concept art for Sybil
Of Men and Ghost Ships, Book 1: Chapter 17
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First, Carter met an AI who looked like an old-earth pirate, and now he met an alien who looked like an old-earth viking. Well, if that viking stood nearly eight feet tall, had fangs and claws that could put some daggers to shame, and a bony carapace armor seemingly covering most of his vital organs. He wasn't sure if he just had some odd luck when it came to encountering the weirdest entities the universe had to offer or if he was at the butt of some galactic joke.
Carter showed Erik how to use the goo dispenser, to which the larger alien made a face but managed to politely keep any complaints to himself as they both got a bowl and sat down at a table with Sybil's two robotic guards passively waiting not far from the table. As he sat down, Cater couldn't help but ask. "So, Erik, huh?"
Before he could ask his question, the behemoth of a man laughed. "Yes, it's a human name. I was 'raised,' for lack of a better term, by pirates who gave me the name. No, I don't know where I came from or even if there are more like me somewhere out there. Long story short, I got my freedom the hard way, and ever since, I've just been trying to get by in this galaxy!"
That answered several of Carter's questions without him having to ask them. "Get asked those a lot, do you?"
Erik nodded while he tried a spoonful of the much, then looked down at the bowl with surprise before taking another bite. "You could say that! Probably the most common questions I get right after people screaming incoherently or begging for their lives. Not that those are questions, but I kinda feel like they're implied, if you know what I mean!"
Carter nodded cautiously. "Do you get that a lot? People begging for their lives, I mean?"
The bigger alien grinned. "Well, yeah! And more than half the time, I didn't even do anything to warrant it! Guess I'm just too big and scary for my own good!"
Carter made a show of taking a bite of his own mint-flavored sludge. "And the other half of the time?"
Erik shrugged, but Carter couldn't help but notice his grin became just a bit more predatory. "Well, let's just say I don't start many fights, but I sure do end a lot of them! Guess I seem like an easy mark or something!"
Carter suspected it was the "or something" but decided not to push the issue. Instead, he figured maybe he could bring up some common ground. "So, not a big fan of pirates then?"
The larger alien shook his head., "No, I like them just fine! Why, they're just about my favorite thing to test the sharpness of my axes on!"
Carter looked at his dining companion skeptically. "Axes? Really? In this day and age?"
Erik laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I know, they're not the most efficient weapons out there, and I'm not above using some more traditional armaments in a pinch, but I tell ya, there's nothing more satisfying than cleaving through a battle suite in hand-to-hand combat with a good heavy axe! Sides, I got used to them back when I fought as a gladiator."
Carter supposed he should have been ready for a crazy story, but he still found himself surprised for the umpteenth time in one conversation. "Wait, wait, wait... You were a gladiator? Like as in an arena, fight to the death kinda thing?"
Erik laughed again. "Yeah, pretty much! However I ended up fighting monsters more than people. There weren't many pirates willing to get in the ring with me, even with a battle suit, and I wasn't willing to kill any ordinary folk who got thrown in with me. Thankfully, I was too big a draw for them to just execute for refusing to kill normals, though I'm sorry to say they didn't get out of the situation any better than if I had. Still, I've killed more than my fair share of wild beasties! They even managed to bring in this giant wolf-like monster with a bladed tail. It was the size of a moose! I kid you not! I got no idea where they found that monster, but it would have killed me for sure if it hadn't been for Vanessa backing me up. Even then, we were both out of commission for the better part of a month after that one. Well, we might have been fit to go a bit before that, but that was the one that made us decide it would be considerably better for our health if we got out of the gladiator business sooner rather than later!"
Oddly enough, Carter found himself grinning along with Erik despite the nature of the story. There was just something about the guy that made listening to him ramble on about stuff kinda fun. Despite his thick accent, or maybe partially because of it, the man was a heck of a storyteller. However, now that the story seemed to have come to an end, the larger alien seemed to think for a moment before asking his own question. "So tell me, captain, where's the rest of your crew? The only ones I've seen since coming aboard are you and your robotic monsters!" He pointed back at the two escorts Sybil provided.
Carter looked askance at the alien. "I invited two aliens who look like they might be able to pick a fight with a full squad of commandos and come out on top, and you're wondering where my crew is?"
Erik kind of nodded and laughed again. "Yeah, I guess that tracks! No sense puttin' everyone at risk when you don't know nothin' about us, and we won't be here very long, is there? Speaking of, how much longer is my friend's treatment gonna take?"
The word "friend" was a surprising choice. Was Erik just using it as a general term, or did he really consider the kid he'd hauled onboard the ship a friend? Carter supposed it didn't matter. Instead, he figured he might as well find out. "Hey, Sybil, how's the treatment going?"
The girl appeared. "Well, the patient looks like he'll pull through. However, given the nature of his injury and how long it's been since he received it, we cannot save his foot. We're discussing whether he would like a temporary replacement or if he'd rather a replacement be grown in a better-stocked facility."
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Alen looked at the disturbingly attractive woman in shock. "What do you mean you're gonna lop off my foot?"
The woman in red just looked annoyed with him for some reason. "I mean just that. Your foot is too badly damaged to save. I can fit you with a temporary replacement, but that'll come with some unpleasant side effects while you adjust and again if it's removed. Alternatively, you could just wait and have an organic replacement grown at another facility and bypass the side effects, but you will be short a foot for however long that takes. Now choose. It'll determine where I cut through the bone and nerves."
Having just woken up from his drugged sleep, Alen had assumed the surgery was over, but apparently, they were still in the middle of treatment. His head was still somewhat groggy as he fought through the haze to understand and decide. "Um, well, I don't know when I'll be able to get anything better, but...uh...how unpleasant are we talking here?"
The attractive woman crossed her arms and glared at him as if he was wasting her valuable time. "It varies from one individual to the next, but the side effects can range from mild discomfort to occasional sharp pains strong enough to require medical intervention."
That was when another voice spoke up from behind Alen. He quickly realized it was Vanessa. "Is it not possible for you to deaden the pain receptors in the area while leaving enough nerve function to enable the use of the replacement?"
The woman in red shook her head. "Pain is an essential tool, especially if we're fitting him with a temporary replacement. It'll let him know if something's gone wrong. Without it, he could get an infection or even tear something without realizing it. It's better to err on the side of leaving too much sensation than too little. It can always be adjusted at a proper facility as needed."
On the one hand, that really sounded unpleasant. But on the other hand, who knew how soon Alen could get a replacement grown? What would he do in the meantime? "Uh... I guess...if I have to pick one... I'll take the temporary replacement..."
The lady in red gave only a brief acknowledgment. "About time." Then, before Alen could have second thoughts, the world went dark again.
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The girl nodded as if receiving some unheard report. "Well, that settles it. He'll be getting a temporary replacement. It'll take a bit longer as we'll have to fit him with some attachments for the augmatics. A rough approximation puts the remaining time at an hour and a half. We should finish cannibalizing the pirate vessel shortly afterward."
Carter turned toward his guest. "Well, there you have it..."
However, the girl interrupted him again before he could finish his thoughts. "Sir, we've got more incoming. There are more of them, and they're more dispersed this time..."
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Next>
Poor Alen! That dude has definitely not had it easy as of late!
My Wiki has all my chapters and stories, including the short series and stories that I write for an occasional change of pace or style!
As a reminder, "Of Men and Dragons" Books 1 and 2 are available to purchase in e-book or physical form. (Both softcover and hardcovers are available!) Book 3 is almost done being edited, so I'll just have to get the cover art and formatting done, and it will be available to purchase as well! Hopefully, in no more than a month or two! (Barring more Amazon drama like last time... fingers crossed!)
OMAD Book 1: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NCPP3PP
OMAD Book 2: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQ7FQ1ZJ

The princess really doesn't want to go the ball. Lucky for her she happens to have a maid to do it for her.
You can edit the script or make more parts to it if you want. You can paywall it but please send me a link if you do.
928 words.
Feedback is welcome.
Script
"Stop fidgeting so much, you're going to wrinkle my dress! Although I suppose it's more "your dress" for the night." *Giggles*
"Of course I'm sure about this. Sister dear insisted that I needed to attend her ball, well I told her that I had other arrangements. She thinks just because she's the Crown Princess she gets to boss me around? Well I'm not giving up on my plans that easily."
"Not when the gods have blessed me the perfect lookalike to take my place! I swear getting you as my maid was the best thing that could've happened to my social life."
"Need me to stand in the background and look pretty while everyone fauns over my sister? I'd rather stay in with a book and a nice cup of tea. Like that brew you made for me last week, what was it called again?"
"Right, right. Maybe you can brew me another pot before you go? Never mind, one spill and you'd stain the dress."
*Lacing the dress* "Speaking of, why do fancy dresses have to have so many laces to them. I swear they're a tighter fit than armor."
"Why yes I have worn armor before, remember the royal procession I had you sit in for me at last week?" *Giggles* "Don't look so scared, I promise I'm not running off to become a knight. I'd miss your company too much, my kitten."
*Giggles* "Keep blushing like that and I won't even need to apply any makeup."
*Finishes lacing* "There we are! Still fidgeting? What's the matter, kitten? It's not as though this is the first time we've done this."
"True, I suppose this is the first time you'll be attending an actual social event. Usually, I have you stand in for me at functions where I don't have to speak or interact with anyone for longer than a few seconds. Aww don't fret, I know you'll do perfectly."
"Just remember, all the second born princess is expected to do is stand around and smile. If anyone tries to talk to you, remember your pleasantries."
*Sarcastic* "So happy you could come! So happy to meet you! Pardon me but I must go freshen up!" "Trust me, it gets you through any dull conversation."
"Hmm, I see you're wearing your hair in curls now, good girl. That'll make it a lot easier for you to blend in. I just need to add a little eye paint and... Perfect!"
*Smugly* "I'm a good look for you, kitten."
"I promise it's like looking in a mirror, nobody will even notice. Besides I can't be the only one who's thought of this before, for all we know half the guests at that ball are going to be other servants in disguise." *Giggles*
"Even if you are caught everyone will just blame me. It's not like anyone's going to think you've got me trussed up in a closet somewhere, trying to take my place. Not with that adorable blush and stammer of yours! I promise, if they find out, just say I made you do it. It's not like it's far from the truth."
"If you really don't want to do it though, you know I'd suffer through the ball for you, kitten. Just say the word."
"That's my good girl. I guess that means it's time for the next step, your tiara!"
*Laughs* "You look so terrified! C'mon you've worn it before haven't you? I'll tell you what, give me a nice deep curtsy and I'll coronate you!"
"There we go, love that form. And now..." *Puts tiara on listener* "I crown thee queen of the maids!"
"Hey, it's a step up from the queen of kittens, isn't it? I swear you overcooked my scone on purpose for that."
Alright." *Sarcastically* "Your ladyship may rise."
*Sighs* "I don't know if I've ever told you this properly, but I really appreciate you doing this for me. I know it may seem a bit, irresponsible of me, but I do take my duties seriously. It's just that sometimes they can become a bit, suffocating."
"Instead of dancing, dining, and gossiping sometimes I need to read, learn, and explore the kingdom for myself without a whole parade of servants and bodyguards following me wherever I go. You really help me with that. I've learned more about the kingdom this past year than I have my entire life up till now!"
"Plus it's kind of nice to go to market without everyone staring me at me." *Teasing* "At least not for the reasons they normally do."
*Laughs* "Don't panic! I promise I've taken good care of your name and reputation." *Sheepish* "Although, um, you might want to apologize to the tailor the next time you talk to her."
"I'm sorry! But there was no way that was genuine elven silk, more like orcish leather."
"If it helps, I wouldn't mind if you "accidentally" spilled a little tea on my sister?"
"Oh and don't worry about those maids that've been giving you trouble." "What did I do?" *Giggles* "Why I told them the truth."
"Now they're petrified thinking that every time they see you, it might actually be me. They won't bother you ever again, not if they know what's good for them. I can't have anyone else push my kitten around, can I?"
"I should get ready so I can, ahem, "escort her highness to the ball." Then maybe I'll settle in with a book, or take another trip to the market, I could buy you something pretty?"
"Or... find you a new tailor." *Awkward laugh*

OK, so...I was in the mood for some company last Friday night, decided to call an escort, got in touch with one, then pulled the plug because she started putting off a heavy scam vibe. No money or deposit sent, and I thought that would be that. Am I a reckless, horned-up idiot? Yes. But I'm not a total idiot. The next day, I got a super angry text (from a Nigerian number) saying I wasted his girl's time and I owe him $1200. Of course, I blocked and deleted. The next day I got an even crazier text demanding that I pay, along with an extremely explicit death threat against me and my family, along with a photo of two beheaded human heads. Super disturbing and now - pissed at behavior, deleted and blocked the scammer again.
And today (three days later) I get this: "Greetings I’m writing to you to tell you that yesterday you were talking to my girl and I lost a lot of money for your game I’m Tony Gonzales boss and proletarian of the dating house which you wanted to be with one of my girls and you only played I have your information and everything about your family we’re going to solve this in a good way that’s why I communicate with you you owe me 2500 you can pay everything or something until I finish the payment you decide how we do it on the phone or in person"
(The use of the word "proletarian" was pretty amusing, actually.)
They called my cel at the same time they texted this, and then listed my name and address. So naturally, I will keep deleting and blocking until they hopefully go away, but shit I'm not gonna lie this has been a little rattling. Again, I know I was impulsive and reckless, so I consider it a lesson I definitely needed to be taught.

There are two guys that I met on a trip who both expressed interest in me, an INFP.
ENTP
-Bonded over talking about politics and current events
-One day, he was pulled away from conversation, and seemed genuinely irritated that our conversation was cut short
-Was very shy talking to me; I'd usually have to be the one to initiate
-I got super drunk one night, and he helped hold my hair back as I threw up in the toilet
-Got jealous of ESTP’s behavior towards me, and told him and all of ESTP’s's cousins that he liked me
-Turns out, ENTP had a girlfriend, and he didn't mean to catch feelings for me, but he did
-He cut off contact with me after, but they broke up not too long later, and there were some signs he was stalking my social media
-Three years later, I’m having a mental breakdown online. ENTP sees this behavior, and asks our old friends (including ESTP) to check on me
ESTP
-He was unintentionally rude to me during our first interaction, but realized he was in the wrong, and started being nicer to me after
-Was making out with another girl at the resort the day I met him (they tried to hook up, but his mom caught them and stopped them)
-When I first started hanging out with ESTP and his cousins, I got kind of drunk, and went to sit down by myself on a couch. He got me a water and sat down next to me. He even offered to escort me to the restroom
-The same night that I got super drunk, I apologized to everyone for getting wasted. ESTP shushed me, putting his finger to his lips before putting it on mine
-After ENTP turned me down, I was more quiet after, and ESTP asked me why I was quiet. He then asked me what I like to do for fun
-After ENTP cut contact with me, ESTP ried to, in his way, ask me what was going on, and how I felt
View Poll

Today complete 1 month without watching porn. I am happy for that. I am also trying to sleep well. During the last two days I have slept at least six hours and 30 minute. The goal is 8 hours. In the afternoon, I had strong urges to have sex and considered calling an escort. Fortunately, I was at the office and the urges didn’t last much time. I wanted to call a girl that I like to eat something but it was late ( I also was nervous because I don’t talk to her very often). I will try again this Thursday.

Wade took a breath as he picked up his old duffel bag, now loaded with his DD uniform and a few other items from the Ceres mines as he slotted it to his side, with the large band handle around his neck. Having gathered his belongings, he joined Tina, who was waiting near the ship's open bay door as he walked over to her. The couple watched several of the other troopers inside marching out as well, some carrying crates of supplies and items out of the craft as they departed for the base outside. Kelly was one of the last ones still on board, checking on a section of the cargo bay as she did what Wade presumed was some maintenance work.
With the way now clear, Wade and Tina stepped off the transport, glancing at the massive base around them as they touched the roughened pavement. Throughout the large landing port were several more chameleon dropships, their crews disembarking with similar items and loads of rescued drones aboard. Beyond the ships were several hangar bays and fighter craft, mostly A-20s and their space-borne cousins docked in lines going across the pad. And beyond the landing zone, towering over several buildings at the base, were the few cruisers docked to the large clamps holding them in place.
Walking ahead with Tina, Wade observed some of the departing Coalition troops as they neared one of several tents stationed near an inactive group of planes, the military personnel interacting and exchanging the crates with the Coalition officers upon reaching each other. Hearing a low roar of engines from afar, the lover drones looked upward to see the large USN warship that was present at the factory earlier, having followed the transport convoy home and now was beginning to descend for landing. Wade gave a silent gasp as he caught a glimpse of the ship's name and SIC number at the side, remembering it from the ship he and Ron saw while returning to Earth.
"Always a wondrous thing to see, isn't it Wade?" Tina said as she and her boyfriend watched the ship slowly come lower to the unoccupied dockyard clamps below it.
"Sure is, wonder how they built those babies?" Wade replied as the two looked upon the landing starship, the former worker drone smirking as he added, "I could've swore I saw that same exact ship over Henderson when Ron and I came back, before we got mugged earlier."
Tina glanced to Wade with surprise as she spoke up on his claim. "Really? Well, that had to be the one that helped our friends here back at the factory. I think I saw the same name on it too!"
"Wouldn't surprise me, seeing all that's happened today." Wade replied as he chortled a bit, Tina doing the same as the former spoke further. "I wonder, what kind of ship is the... Vickers again? You know?"
"Autumn class, dear. A heavy destroyer variant, not as strong as those enormous Yamato dreadnoughts or Adelaide battlecruisers, but she'll put up a good fight for whatever comes at her." Tina explained as she held back another chuckle, thinking of her education on various USN craft as she teased Wade lightly. "You know, I may just have to grab one of those ship roster tabs when we get in the base. I'd love to show you all they got in their arsenal."
Wade chortled again as he gave his thoughts on the idea. "Well, it wouldn't be bad to have a little more knowledge in ship-story."
Tina almost burst out laughing at his crude pun, Wade smiling at her as F and Nathan jogged over to the two, the latter carrying his own backpack behind him as he spoke. "Well, not a bad place, huh? You guys heading to the clearance station?"
"Oh yes, we were just admiring the ships around us while we walked." Tina said with a stifled laugh, easing herself as she chatted with her new friends. Wade, however, was quickly overcome with panic as he remembered something. Checking his pockets, his fears were confirmed as he failed to find one of his key possessions: his ID card. Wade felt he must have lost it when he was stripped of his old clothing while in the factory.
Oh no, guys? I don't think I can pass through." Wade said with greenish-yellow circles for eyes as Tina and the others looked to him in concern, the drone feeling through his pockets once more before stating his issue. "My ID, they must've taken it off me when they turned me into a disassembly drone!" Wade began to hyperventilate lightly as he grew fearful of the potential outcomes when they reached the security gate ahead. "Oouuugghh, if I don't have my ID, they'll have to keep me lo-"
"Wade, Wade... it's okay. I'll have them make a pass for you, surely we can get them to after getting them to understand what's happened." Tina stated as she put her hand to Wade's chest, who eased his panic as he looked to his girlfriend.
"Yeah, and besides Wade, those people over there went around gathering what ever items the company stole from the drones during their conversion. I'm sure that once they find it, they'll have it sent off to be given back to you!" Nathan said as F nodded in agreement, shunting Wade's panic out of him with their words as he replied to the hopeful responses.
"Right, yeah, they should do that. Sorry." Holding Tina's hand, Wade spoke to her once more. "Lead the way."
Tina nodded to Wade before the two began to walk over to the security gate nearby, several people, drones and humans alike, already in the line as they checked themselves in to the base to relax after the hard-fought battle. Once they reached the line, the four stood together as they waited for the line to slowly go up, more troops and rescued drones coming over to add to the long line. During the wait, a loud, mechanical 'SLAM' erupted through the air, prompting Wade and Tina to glance over to the direction of the noise. The two felt at ease once more as they saw the Vickers finally landed at the base, the loud clang being the docking clamps attaching to the ships hull just moments ago.
As the line moved up further to the gate, Wade and Tina caught sight of a pair of A-20 aircraft passing over them, the two watching as the planes slowed down while descending onto the runway nearby. The four drones' collective viewing of the fighters landing ceased as they caught sight of J, who took flight as she departed the transport nearby before flying over to the tents near the hangar bays.
"Huh, wonder what she's over there for?" Nathan said as he observed J landing onto the ground in front of one of the tents.
"Probably checking on the drones we got back, or meeting up with one of those commanders there." F said as she motioned an arm towards the tents, J walking under one as she made her way to one of the soldiers coming over to her. "Seems like the latter, from the looks of it."
Wade shrugged as he responded to the group's pondering over J's actions. "Well, she'll be here with us if we need her, right? Shouldn't be much to worry about."
Returning their focus to the line ahead, Wade and his team waited as the line moved up over the next few minutes, moving impressively fast as the people in front cleared themselves in one at a time. Eventually, the four of them were up, Tina stepping up to show her ID for clearance. "Hello, it's been a busy day, hasn't it?"
The security agent smirked at Tina's small-talk. "Hah, not too busy here until you all showed up."
As the guard finished scanning Tina's ID, she handed the card back to her as she raised a finger to begin her request. "Oh, um, there's a little issue we need to resolve." Putting a hand to Wade's arm, Tina explained her boyfriend. "This is my dear friend Wade, Wade Carter. We both managed to escape that blasted factory with the help of those Coalition folks there." Wade gave a pleading look as Tina continued. "Unfortunately, Wade was converted into a disassembly drone before he was rescued, and it seems those people at the company took all his belongings he had on him, including his ID. Do you think there's... anyway you could write up something to let him by?"
Stepping forward, F gave her end of the story. "I can vouch for him, Ma'am. Wade and I we're among the teams helping in getting the worker drones out of the factory during the operation." The disassembly drone pulled out a pair of cards as she finished her explanation, one of them being her company-issued Disassembly Service Passcard, which resembled a normal civilian ID in appearance, save for the 'JCJenson (In Spaaace!) Logo on the top left and hazard markings around the rim of the card. As for the other card, it was a well worn, still legitimate ID card, showing F as how she appeared when she was a worker drone. At the side of her picture was a name with an initial. "FELICITY A LEE"
Taking the two cards in her hand, she looked them over and scanned them as Nathan tried to back Wade up as well. "So can I, Ma'am! I helped there too, when he was under the company's control. We all got him out of the factory so we could get him back in order." Pulling out his own ID, Nathan handed it out as the guard returned F's IDs to her.
The guard accepted Nathan's ID as she spoke over what to do with Wade. "Well, normally it takes clearance from higher ranked personnel here to allow someone inside without a legitimate form of identification. We can't just take someone's word on things like this, after all." Tina seemed to frown in disappointment as the guard explained her protocols, Wade looking down at the ground as he felt his worries were about to be proven correct. Going over Nathan's ID further, she gave an intrigued expression at the card before continuing. "Huh, interesting. Got two veteran folks here, I see?" She glanced to Nathan and F as she said that, taking into account their former military background as the former spoke up.
"Three, actually. My pal Kurtis is somewhere back there, I think. He should be heading down here later this evening." The guard glanced back at Nathan's ID as she took in the veteran drone's reply, sighing as she decided to make a slight amendment to the issue put before her and the four friends.
"Well, seeing you two here, I believe I can write something up. The Major won't be happy with me for this, but I think I can trust you with appropriate behavior." Taking a small sticky name-tag, the woman pulled out a pen before starting to write on it. Initially, she glanced to Wade, who stated his name again before she began to write his name on the tag. Once she was finished, the guard gave the tag to Wade, who slapped it onto his jacket before she spoke to him. "You should be fine to enter for the most part, just stick close to your friends and don't cause any trouble. Understood?"
Wade gave a stern salute to the security officer, who held back a chuckle at the honest, yet amusing effort the disassembly drone showed to her. Giving a simple nod and a flick of her hand, she permitted Wade and his friends entrance to the base, the four walking past the walkway barricades as they made their way past the gate.
Wade let out a heavy sigh of relief as he thanked his allies. "I owe you both so much for this, thanks!"
"Don't mention it, Wade." F said warmly as she and Nathan laughed at his joyful face.
"Yeah, just doing what any good friend should." Nathan said as Tina wrapped an arm around Wade, holding him tightly as the two walked together.
Looking to his girlfriend, Wade spoke to Tina about what to do next. "Well, since we're in, you wanna go fi-" He ceased his words as he remembered that there was someone else they needed to find amongst the base. "Oh, I almost forgot about her,"
"Jasmine!" Tina and Wade said aloud together as the former remembered her sister, Wade's words snapping her mind to Jasmine in an instant. "We should look for her, you think she might be here somewhere?"
"Probably. If they got Ron after they captured me, they have to 've picked her up too." Wade stated, Nathan raising a hand as he offered to help.
"I could go looking for her! You know what she looks like?" Readying a holo-projector, he tried to display an image of Jasmine from one of his many memories of her. The picture was, while pixelated and under a blue hue, incredibly well-detailed. And for Nathan, that was all he needed to see to note Jasmine's appearance in his memory. Nodding, he spoke again to his friends. "Got it! I'll see if she's around!" Then, turning to run down one of the paths leading to a nearby base facility, he stopped as he asked one more question. "Oh! One more thing, you got a smartcomm on ya, Wade?"
Readying one from his holo-projector hand, he nodded as he spoke into it. "Seems so, though I don't seem to have all my contacts added in."
Running back over, Nathan pulled out his own smartcomm before putting it up against Wade's hand one, allowing the two devices to exchange information. Upon the devices beeping, Wade and Nathan nodded to each other, the former ignoring a pop-up that stated, "New Contact Added" while the latter spoke once more. "Okay, I'll call you once I spot her!" With that, he began running down the path once more, intent on finding Tina's sister at the base, wherever she could be.
"Fowley! Her last name's Fowley!" Tina said aloud to the departing Nathan, hoping he heard her words before turning away from the miner drone and facing Wade and F again.
As Tina sighed in partial relief, Wade put his own arm around her before asking the question he tried to ask before. "So, uh, with that out of the way for now... You wanna go look for one of those ship tabs?"
Putting a hand to Wade's chest, Tina smiled as she replied. "Oh, certainly." Then, as the three began walking down a different path that Nathan hadn't taken, the pilot drone continued with a chuckle. "I hear they have a place here that sells model kits too!"
...
Jasmine sat in silent sorrow as she took another gulp of her glass of Proxi-Vodka, a tasty, but heavy alcoholic beverage produced at the colony of Proxima 2... and one of Jasmine's preferred drinks to have when she wasn't in a good mood. When she awoke after being stunned by the station guards, she found that she was just recovered by a group that called themselves the 'United Earth Coalition', and that her drone friend, Tina, was unfortunately taken by the JCJenson corporation to be turned into one of their horrid disassembly drones. While the people that saved her offered to help her find Tina, so far there had been no luck in doing so. No successful calls, no response from Wade nor Ron, nothing.
The whole situation widdled at her like scrapes to her form, slowly draining any bit of hope that she had in finding her sister. And once the mission at that factory was over, the ship began heading back to the Nellis Base to escort the recovered drones back to a safe area. Unfortunately for Jasmine, Tina's presence was not given confirmation. Alone, she walked off to one of the bars down at the base, specifically Drexler's Cantina, one of the more popular bars down at the military starport. Thankfully, though she didn't openly exhibit feelings of wanting to be alone in her wallowing, she was glad the place was nearly barren of patrons, with only a few at a couple of tables within the bar.
The stage at the back of the bar also had a few singer drones performing aloud, the lead singer girl reciting the words of a quiet, yet exciting song that, instrumentally, consisted of a strange mix of bass, techno, and a hint of opera. The song itself was one Jasmine had heard a good many times before in her life, known as, 'You Complete My World' by a decades old Earth band by the name of HeartStar. The song, as Jasmine and many others who'd heard it interpreted it, was about someone who described their world like a puzzle, and that the one whom the main singer cared for beyond all was the only thing that could keep their world from shattering into ruin before them.
An oddly fitting tune, given what had just happened on the JCJ Central earlier. For all Jasmine knew, Tina was either alive beyond her knowledge, hopefully searching for her wherever she could, or, the answer Jasmine feared... Dead.
Not wanting to even consider the thought, the human pilot took another swig of the colonial Vodka, relishing in its taste before forcing herself to swallow, almost gagging from the strength of the drink. Easing herself, she glanced out to one of the windows of the bar, taking the faint glimpse of night into her eyes. Then, looking to the clock at the wall ahead of her, she saw the time was about a little over an hour to 10 pm. Jasmine gave a sigh to herself, certain she would be alone for the rest of the night.
Unbeknownst to her, however, Jasmine had been spied upon a little while ago. Nathan, in his search for the woman Tina called Jasmine Fowley, had spotted a woman matching the physical appearance of the target. Knowing Jasmine wouldn't know who he was if he tried to talk to her himself, Nathan immediately went looking for Wade, easing his return to his team by calling the former worker drone and signaling him about his findings.
Deciding to check on the news, Jasmine slowly pulled out her smartcomm, resisting her urge to press the contacts button as she tapped the news app. Looking through it, she spotted a recent story that was posted just over an hour ago, titled, "JCJenson 'Recall' effort sabotaged by joint Government/Militia forces! The Truth Exposed!" Above the article was a video, a play button in front of it teasing Jasmine. Curious over this sudden development, she pressed the button, her attention in complete focus on the video as it began to play.
After the news station's logo appeared on-screen for a short few seconds, the current host for the story, Mrs. Tiffany Joy, appeared at her seat before beginning the story. "Good evening, this is Nevada-78, I'm your host, Tiffany Joy. Tonight, we start with a rapid development for the 'drone recall' incidents propagated by the business conglomerate JCJenson In Space. Throughout the afternoon up to now, several advanced factories under the ownership of the corporation have fallen under violent assault by various militarized forces, ranging from official United Nations operatives to private militia groups with varying goals." The small screen to Joy's left shifted to show the state of Nevada, zooming into it to show a portion of the Mojave desert as Joy continued her story.
"Among these facilities, one such factory based right here in southern Nevada has recently succumbed to the successful efforts of the USN Defense Force and a group by the name of the United Earth Coalition, an alliance consisting of humans and automatons working to create a unified world for both species." The screen shifted again to show the logo for the UEC, which appeared as one half of a human head outline and another of a drone's, along with two arms behind the heads belonging to both beings pictured. "With the attack having concluded just hours ago, we have reporters gathering at the New Nellis Staryards near Henderson City to bring you the aftermath of the conflict. We go to Mr. Jelico, on the scene in five."
The camera shifted after the countdown of five to show Mr. Jelico in front of the camera, the cameraman filming a large tent housing several worker drones being tended to by the base soldiers. "Alright, Jelico here, we're on station at New Nellis. What you're all seeing here are some of the recovered worker drones, many of them were pretty spooked by the events that unfolded in that factory earlier." As the camera panned over the lot of drones, some of them looked to the camera, curious at the news crew filming them as Jelico continued. "A few of them are real glad to be here, Joy. Seems like they feel safe here, as far as I can tell."
As the camera moved to show Jelico again, a plane could be seen taking off as he spoke. "Yeah, these people did them quite a service. The staff here are working to find their original owners and families, it'll probably be a little bit before they can get them all home." The camera switched once again to another view of the base, the lights of various buildings illuminating the night as the news story continued.
At the entrance, Nathan pushed open the door to the bar, the chime failing to catch anyone's attention as he, Wade, F and Tina stepped inside. Carefully pointing at Jasmine, he whispered to Tina, "That's her, from the looks of it. She's been here for a good minute!"
Taking another drink of the Proxi-Vodka, Jasmine listened further to the story. "The authorities didn't just recover a majority of the worker drones taken into the factory, however. A recent update provided by Mrs. Yuka, shows her interviewing a disassembly drone who claims to be among the unfortunate drones the assault force failed to save before their conversion."
"Jasmine!" Tina called out, the voice instantly grabbing the woman's attention as she paused the news story. Swiftly turning her head, her heart began pounding with immense excitement as she saw her drone sister, who grinned upon seeing her face.
"Tina!" Jasmine said aloud, somewhat weakly from her previous wallowing as she tried to run over to her sister, landing on her knees as the two embraced in a flush of emotions. Wade and his friends stood behind the two girls as they hugged each other, clinging onto one another as tightly as they could give. Jasmine seemed to erupt with a pained cough as she allowed some of her sorrow out of her heart, Tina carressing her back in a comforting manner as she held back her own tears. The sisters held the hug for a long moment, not daring to let go of one another for fear of losing each other again. Eventually, however, they did, the two sisters taking heavy breaths as Jasmine spoke up while wiping her face. "I thought I'd lost you."
"Can't say I didn't feel the same way, love." Tina replied as she broke out in light laughter, glancing to Wade before continuing. "But, fortunately, those Coalition boys helped out quite a bit. Though, not as much as my knight in his new armor."
Standing herself up, Jasmine took Tina's helping hand as she looked to the one her sister spoke of. A grateful smile formed on Jasmine's face as she saw Wade, standing in front of her and Tina as he returned the expression. Looking upon her family friend, Jasmine noticed something... different about Wade. He was taller now, his arms were shaped like white cones rather than the silver bendy tubes he and Tina normally had. As for his face, his pure green eyes were replaced with a set of greenish-yellow ones, and above his forehead was a band holding five yellow bulbs that she didn't know the function of.
While the pieces started to click together in her head, Jasmine took Wade's held out hand as she spoke to him. "Wade, I'm so glad to see you! You look different, too. Did something... happen to you?" She already guessed it by this point, but feigned confusion as she opted to hear Wade's take on the matter.
"Yeah, I hope you don't mind your sister dating a vampire from now on." Tina chortled in amusement at Wade's comment at himself, Jasmine raising an eyebrow in confusion at the former worker drone as he returned his expression to a more sincere smile. "The company got me too, and unlike the workers we got out... they managed to turn me into a disassembly drone. From now on, I'm gonna need to take in more oil than I usually did before I was turned. My cooling system's not as good as it should be, from what I've heard." Pulling out his two full canteens, Wade finished his partial explanation. "Don't worry, though. I've got some to keep me down."
Jasmine took in the news with immense surprise, noticing the hazard stripes at the rims of Wade's arms as she replied to her friend. "Oh... Well, if Tina's fine with it, then I see no problem with that, Wade." Admittedly, she was a bit unnerved by the change, concerned for both him and Tina's safety due to this supposed oil coolant issue. Trying to sound as nice as she could on the matter, Jasmine hesitantly asked Wade, "Though... I am a bit concerned with that bad cooling problem you mention. You... don't think you would-"
"Hurt Tina?!" Wade assumed, understanding Jasmine's concern as he gave a horrified glance to the two sisters. Standing with his fists to his hips, he gave his answer to Jasmine's presumed question. "Don't even say such a thing, Jasmine. I'd rather overheat than dare strike her."
Admittedly amused as well as concerned for Wade's selflessness, Tina chuckled at him before speaking up on the matter. "Now now, Wade. It won't be so bad. We'll manage."
Jasmine nodded as she agreed with her sister's optimistic view on the problem. "Indeed we will, we always do." Then, taking notice of the other two drones in the room, Jasmine smiled at them before speaking again. "Ah, I see you brought some friends too."
Wade and Tina glanced over to Nathan and F upon Jasmine's statement, the two friends smiling pleasantly as Wade spoke up. "Oh, yeah. These are some of my work buddies from Ceres, Jasmine. This is Nathan, I first met him when Ron and I came to the mines, showed us around a bit too." Putting a hand on F's shoulder, Wade introduced her too. "And this is Serial Designation F, or, just F. She was one of the guards keeping watch on the place while we worked."
F seemed to blush out of embarrassment as she remembered her and Wade's first meeting. "I... did come off a little rough on them when they first came in, though. Stopped Nathan's touring run too. Just following colony protocol."
Nathan patted F's back as he tried to ease F's guilt. "Oh, it's nothing F. We had to start work in a few minutes anyway. Besides, it's a bit more fun exploring the place yourself without a guide." He winked at the others as he finished his praise. "Trust me, it really is."
Wade, Tina and Jasmine all chuckled at their friend's amusing words, F joining in as she replied to Nathan's encouragement. "Alright, alright."
Walking up to the two, Tina put her hand onto Nathan's as she gave her own praises. "And they may not look like it, dear, but Nathan and F were both formerly in the military, from what Wade's told me."
Jasmine gave a proud smirk at the two as she responded to her sister's claim. "Well, that's quite something. Did she tell you we used to fly for them some years back?"
"Oh, she did, Mrs. Fowley." Nathan replied as he chuckled lightly, F giving a smile of her own as she added her own part to the story.
"Yeah, and given what's happening now, maybe they might call you back for service again. Wade told me you two were excellent pilots."
It was now Jasmine's turn to blush as she chuckled from the compliment, knowing Wade's high praise for her and her sister's flying as she replied. "Well, I can't say that's wrong, Tina saved the day during the flight back here. We ran into an asteroid cluster while in the middle of a jump."
Wade patted Tina on her back as he quietly cheered his love on. "That's what I'm talking about, she's a wonder among the stars, I'm telling you!"
The group fell into an excited fit of laughter at the conversation, a few of the bar patrons taking notice of the bunch as they eventually ceased their joyful moment.
As everyone calmed down, Jasmine spoke up, intending to bring the discussion to another place. "Well, with all that said, it feels great to see you all here. It was such a terrible day after all those company folk showed up." Then, as she scanned the group of friends around her, she noticed someone else missing from this puzzle. "Hey, uh... is Ron here? Did he head off somewhere?"
The mood was quickly put down to a mournful aura as Wade and Tina glanced to the floor in sadness, Nathan and F giving uncomfortable postures as they awaited for someone to speak up on the matter.
Eventually, Wade was the one to open his mouth, breathing steadily as he tried to speak to Jasmine. "Um, Jasmine? Things, uh... really took a nose dive after we got captured. You think we could find a place to sit? It's a lot to talk about."
Looking to the four drones with concern, Jasmine eased her returning fear as she nodded to Wade in agreement. "...Sure, there's plenty of space at the table here." Pointing her arm to the table, which was surrounded by a U-shaped seating bench, Wade and his friends began to move to the table as Tina spoke up.
"I can get us some drinks for the talk, you all want anything?"
"Just some oil, thanks. "Wade answered as F and Nathan gave their own nods to Tina, the drone girl walking over to the bartender near the stage as she went to purchase some beverages.
Sitting down, Jasmine picked up her smartcomm from the table, glancing to it as she spoke up on her half-finished drink. "Heh, and to think I was drowning myself in this drag of a drink before. Probably have to find a different glass."
"Proxi-Vodka? Haven't seen you touch that since we lost Aunt Susan." Wade said solemnly as he examined Jasmine's drink, sighing as he reluctantly continued. "Well, maybe it can go for a few more sips."
Looking to the vodka, Jasmine nodded as she put her smartcomm in her pocket. "I figured, I didn't think this was gonna sound good."
"I wish it did." Wade replied as Tina walked back to the table, a plate of three oil glasses resting on her careful hand as she set it down.
After delivering the drinks, Tina took a seat next to Wade, holding his hand as Jasmine spoke up. "So, where do we start this terrible story?"
Wade gulped a bit as he began to recount the events that transpired today. "Well, it all started when Ron and I came back from the mining colony."

Little Author's Note up here since it was missed in the last chapter by some people: I don't approve of anyone "narrating" or using my story for their youtube channels or whatever as it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been getting messages whenever I post a chapter asking the same thing and I keep saying no. If you see this story on youtube or elsewhere, I didn’t approve of it or give them my permission to do so.
Also I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had some difficulty writing it, so it’s probably not my best quality.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I smirk at my wrist data pad as I can see Triwt is basically hunting and chasing down the remaining pirates while expertly leading them to me for a trap.
“Triwt, you know me so well.” I say with a fully smug tone as I ready my rifle and prepare to open fire.
Not yet
The footsteps are getting louder.
Not yet…
The footsteps, given how good my hearing is, have now rounded the corner and there’s a shriek of terror.
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
I can’t help but smirk, it seems the ugly bastard did come aboard the ship. What’s better is that Triwt has grabbed him, leaving the remaining 4 pirates not looking this way.
Now.
Triwt, Female Valis-Trobat Hybrid, Security Commander
I’m slightly annoyed as I have to constantly dodge and weave going through the corridor. These dumbasses aren’t even aiming where they're shooting. I quickly duck low to the ground to dodge a barrage of plasma bolts, when I hear the one thing I was looking forward to. Click click click…
Silence follows the clicking of empty TOR’s besides the frantic running. It’s then replaced by one of the pirates, not the Captain, shrieking as she runs ahead of the others in a panic. In no sense am I a sadistic person, but however in this situation, I might have smiled a bit to her reaction as I pick up the pace and quickly enter melee range.
Hm, maybe we can afford one prisoner…
I see the corner coming up as I whip my body around and grab the Captain with my tail.
EWWWW He’s all slimy and mucusy! Goddess this is worse than Jordan Cores bleeding on my fur. EWWW!!!
“Boys! Turn back and save your damn Captain! The damn girl has me!”
Despite my own internal hatred of the sensation of having to get that gross slime like mucus on my tail of all things, I still pull the Captain back as they round the corner looking back at me as they abandon their captain. I give them a wave right before a hail of gunfire shreds through them, leaving only a fine mist.
I’m surprised Cerelia is allowed to even own such a modified weapon. I can’t even shoot it while holding it with all 4 of my arms due to the recoil! She says it’s registered as a ceremonial weapon. I suppose a sudden funeral is a ceremony in itself.
I smirk at the thought before returning my attention to this gross captain wrapped up in my tail.
Cerelia, Altrin Female, Captain of The Opal Star
I let out a relaxed sigh as I released the trigger from my grip. I don’t particularly enjoy battle, but there seems to be something within my own instincts that triggers dopamine at the end of a battle.
Probably something to do with Altrins being a hunter race before we were modern and spacefaring. Might have to ask a historian about that, if not at the very least a psychologist.
I lower my rifle as Triwt slithers down the hall, her fur was undeniably red in a few spots where it came into contact with Jordan’s blood, but it was mostly on her uniform. She keeps moving with the Alcoranth Captain getting dragged along by Triwt’s tail as she had already bound up and gagged them.
“I can deal with the blood of Jordan Cores, but take this bastard away from me before I slit his throat for getting mucus on my tail.”
Oh, she is pissed. She’s just doing a good job at mostly containing it.
I nod before speaking, “Just knock him out for now and we’ll put him in a cryopod or something. His slime-like excretions from his skin might make him an easy flight risk since we can assume he can slip out of handcuffs and other bindings fairly easily.”
Triwt nods at me and uses a Stun Baton to knock him out for now after hitting him with probably more volts than regulated.
I suppose it’s better than bashing his head against the wall until he passes out.
The remaining guards who were left with me take the now prisoner captain away from Triwt and begin transporting him to a cryopod room meant for emergencies like if the ship’s thrusters were to stop working and we’re years away from rescue.
We could just set up an SOS frequency broadcast and then put everyone in cryo until rescue arrives. But now, it’s a makeshift prison for a cowardly pirate.
Now… for the real battle in all of this. The battle on the inside.
Lys, Verkrawn Male, Fauna Research Specialist
Silence. Well, except my ears are ringing from the sound of gunfire that has now stopped.
I take in a shaky breath in what feels like the first time in forever. Everything is shaking now that the fighting seems to have stopped. It seems I’m not the only one who was holding their breath for so long as other crew members near me seemed to breathe in, while a few start to break down crying.
We’re not fighters like security, Triwt, or Cerelia. Most of us had never seen people die, to say the least how brutal it was to see how Jordan Cores attacked the Alcoranth. I feel my face with my clawed hands and feel the warm liquid of my tears running down my face.
When did I start crying?
The realization hit me like a powerloader as it’s my turn to break down crying, my own legs failing me as they shook before I found myself weeping on the floor as the thoughts and emotions flooded my head with what happened and how terrible this was. I keep crying as I feel the large paw of my older sister as she slowly sits me up and holds me in a warm embrace. It makes me think about when I was younger. The days when she and I were in the orphanage. She used to hold me just like this after she would chase away the older kids who would be mean to me. I still remember some of the things she’d say to them.
“I don’t care if a Verkawn’s scales can deflect most bullets, he still has feelings!” The first thing she ever said to the bullies as she chased them off. It was also the day I met her. She had lost her family due to a Slaver raid on the colony world she was living on at the time. She didn’t tell me much about it, and I doubt she would tell me even today, but she always called me her little brother, so I started calling her my older sister. It’s been like that since.
I keep crying until it’s more of a sniffle as I slowly return the embrace.
“They will never hurt you like they hurt me, Lys.” She whispers to me before slowly turning her attention to the crew members with a sad expression. “Nor any of you. Oh, none of this was ever supposed to happen.”
“Y-You can’t predict pirates, Cerelia”
“I know, but they got so close to hurting and enslaving you. I failed to keep you all safe.”
“Cerelia, we’re fine. No one got hurt physically. We should probably just go to the nearest planetary city, maybe see some therapists and psychologists while the ship gets repaired.”
Cerelia nods as she thinks about what I said.
“Yeah, but what about the furless beast? What are we supposed to do about it?” A member says as everyone was slowly coming to grips that they are alive and well. “Are we just going to keep it here? Who knows if it’ll attack us again like it did to Lys or that Alcoranth on the floor there!?”
“He was scared!” Cerelia counters, with a hint of personal anger in her tone. “He couldn’t understand us and was only trying to escape because he thought he was in danger!”
“He was in danger? He is the danger for all I’ve seen!” They countered as I felt like shrinking down and hiding away, before a bit more of an emotional burning sensation rose up in me.
“Shut up!” I suddenly snapped. Silence follows as they wait for me to say something. I have never raised my voice.
“Sure, they found us in here because Jordan Cores had a chip on him, but he didn’t know about it! Not only that, but he at least protected us from that psychopath, breaking his own body and getting shot before doing so! You haven’t even had time to interact with him. While my interactions with him were brief, I could at least tell that he was scared and that he was sorry!” I huff as I silently cry while I look at both Cerelia and the crew member. I think their name is R’dorn. They’ve always been brash and rude, so I had a tendency to avoid them.
R’dorn looks at me annoyed, but as they are seemingly unable to come up with a good counter argument, they storm out of the safe room.
I look at Cerelia and Triwt before sighing and sitting down. “Sorry…”
“It’s alright, you kinda said what we were all thinking.” Someone says as they place a wing on me. “That, and R’dorn needs to shut up every now and then.” There’s sounds of agreement before it becomes a group embrace of comfort. Much different to huddling in fear.
“So wait, where is Jordan Cores now? Is he okay?”
“He’s in Med Bay 07’s only regeneration pod. He’s going to be fine, but it’s going to be a while until he’s out due to his injuries.” Triwt responds as she slithers to the entrance of the room. “How about everyone gets cleaned up, or takes a hot shower to calm their nerves, and in about 2 hours time, we can see how Jordan Cores is holding up?”
That sounds like a good idea. To wash away the stress and some time to think, it sounds super nice.
I let out a sigh and nod. “Yeah, that sounds good to me… I’ll be there then. I guess if everyone else wants to show up, you can as well? Not like I can stop you or force you to, but the suggestion is there. Just trying to be considerate.”
With that, I stand up and I’m escorted back to my room to try and freshen up and clear my head.
And that is chapter 9! I was personally a little bit of mental and emotional wreck while writing because sometimes I don't know what I'm doing. At least that's how it feels. Gonna try and do some experimenting as I kinda want to explore some places now as we’ve been stuck on The Opal Star since the very beginning. So what are we feeling? A desert world, tropical world, or maybe a world that’s high in gravity, but Jordan seems to be just fine? Let me know your thoughts, ideas, and suggestions below, and thank you so much for reading!
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